#his stick looks like someone's scribbled on it all the time and it is genuinely delightful

[dstrome]

I wanted to ask you about the tape job you have on your blade? What's the thought behind that?

Halfway through the year -- I get crap for this all the time -- me and Gabe Perreault had a night or two off. Weren't really scoring the way we wanted to, and that week at practice we were like, "Let's just do something funky, why not"

He's always done puck marks and I've always kind of been standard, but I started doing it? One of our goalies, Jan Korec, he's an engineer, can make pretty cool designs on the stick - honestly, I can't really look at my stick anymore if there's not a puck mark on it

[sequinsmile-x]

Our Great Divide - Chapter 3: Haunted by the Look in My Eyes

It's what they'd hoped would happen for years. For close to a decade it's what they would talk about late at night whilst snuggled up in bed together, quiet voices whispering about a life where Jack and Haley came back, where Jack could meet his siblings and their family would finally feel complete. Now it was finally happening, Emily had a pit in her stomach. A heavy weight made of fear and guilt as she worried that this could actually be the thing that tore them apart.

A Foyet Arc AU

-x-

Hi besties,

I am genuinely blown away by the love for this story!! It means so so much. I really hope you like this chapter, and I'm excited to know your thoughts <3

-x-

Warnings: Full list of warnings can be found on the Master List

Words: 4.2k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

He was used to this office no longer being his. Handing it over to Emily once he’d retired had seemed natural, her step up into Unit Chief something he’d supported since the moment he’d decided to leave the FBI. It always brought a sense of familiarity when he came to visit, one or more of their children in tow as he walked in to see her, to give her a taste of home on her bad days. The room had a sense of comfort to it. Pictures of them and the kids on her desk, framed drawings from kindergarten and 1st-grade classes proudly displayed on the bookcase - bright messy lines and shapes standing out against the dark wood and gloomy nature of the work Emily did here. 

The work Aaron had left behind when Hugo was born.

He was used to stepping into her office and it not being his, but this time it feels like he’s stepped back in time, like he could blink and the nameplate on her desk would transform into his. She’s busy fussing with the pictures of their family, turning them so they can’t be seen unless someone is sitting in her desk chair.

“I should put these away,” Emily says, pulling him out of his thoughts as she turns to the bookcase and reaches for a drawing Leo had presented her with one day after school, 5 stick figures drawn in front of a house staring back at her - all brightly coloured and wobbly lines. She runs her finger over the glass, drawing in a shaky breath as she traces the outline of their home and then she clears her throat, reaching for the others and piling them on top of each other, “Don’t want these to be the reason they find out about the kids.” She opens one of her desk drawers and gently places the drawings in there, her gaze lingering on the picture on top, something Stella had drawn - a mess of scribbles she’d claimed was their cat, Sergio. She blows out a slow breath and closes the drawer, standing up straight again as she looks over at her husband, her heart clenching at the look on his face, how lost he looks. She walks over and grabs his hand, linking their fingers together as she squeezes gently, her smile soft when he looks up at her, “How are you doing?” 

He huffs out a breath and squeezes her hand back, “This is what I’ve wanted for years. But now it’s happening…I’m…”

He drifts off, not sure how to put into words how he was feeling. He was excited to see his son. Devastated he’d lost out on so much time with him. Guilty that he and Haley had been gone for so long when Foyet hadn’t been a threat for years. Aaron feels it all churn in his gut, nausea threatening to climb up his throat as he swallows thickly. 

Emily wraps her arms around him and pulls him close, sucking in a deep breath when he holds her tightly, a desperation to his grip she hadn’t felt in years, “I know, honey,” she says, turning her head to kiss him, her lips catching his jaw, “I know.”

A knock on the door draws them apart, and she smiles tightly at Matt when he pushes the door open, “They’re here.” 

“Thanks, Matt,” Emily says, clearing her throat as she steps away from her husband, her fingers slipping out of his as she puts a little space between them, wanting to make sure he got to do this at his pace, “Send them in.” 

He nods and walks back out, leaving them alone again. The few seconds it takes for there to be another knock on the door feels like an eternity, the way their life together had been drawing to a close, a quiet, peaceful death as the new one is brought to life. 

The first thing Aaron thinks when he sees Jack is how tall he is. He’s towering above Haley. All long awkward long limbs that probably appeared overnight one day, a moment Aaron remembered himself when he was a teenager. He’s skinny, his eyes and hair are Haley’s, but other than that he looks like him. He looks like his little brothers he doesn’t know exist. His nervous expression one he’d seen countless times on Hugo and Leo’s faces, one he remembered from a lifetime ago when Jack was no older than Stella and broke a picture frame, his eyes wide as he waited to be in trouble. 

They stand in silence, staring at each other, unsure what to say or where to start. The time they’d lost a chasm that they could not cross even though they were just a few feet apart. 

“Haley,” Emily says, breaking the silence, knowing someone had to as she steps forward. She falters when she’s within reaching distance of the other woman unsure whether she should shake her hand or hug her. She clears her throat, settling for crossing her arms over her chest so she doesn’t make this any more awkward, “It’s…good to see you.”

Haley clears her throat and nods, her blonde hair now shorter than it once was, flecks of grey blended into it, wrinkles around her eyes that Aaron once thought he’d watch bloom, “You too,” she says, her eyes flicking back and forth between her and Aaron, her lips pressed together, “I wasn’t expecting that we’d have company.” 

“Oh,” Emily says, her eyebrows furrowing as she scrambles internally, unsure what she should say, “Well-”

“She’s my…” Aaron clears his throat, his voice croaking now he’d found it, “She’s my wife.”

Haley’s eyes go wide and she looks at their hands, at the matching gold bands and she blows out a slow breath, “Oh,” she says, licking her lower lip, “I see.” 

They fall into silence again. Deafening and awkward and overwhelming and Emily hates it. Hates that this wasn’t like a reunion you’d see in a cheesy made-for-TV movie, when people were brought together after years apart as if nothing had changed. But so much had changed. So much had happened, and Jack and Aaron didn’t know each other because of it, and part of her wanted to go to the crematorium and find something creative to do with Foyet’s remains because of it. 

“Why don’t we sit down?” Emily suggests, looking over at her husband who nods, his smile fleeting but grateful as they all walk over to the couch. Emily sits on the arm of it next to her husband, lets him tug her closer, use her as a comfort blanket, his arm hooked over her legs. She looks at Jack, “I don’t know if you remember me, but-”

“You’re Emily,” he says, his voice deeper than either of them had expected, “You were on my Dad’s team.”

She smiles and nods, “That’s right.” 

“This is…so weird,” Jack says, looking at Aaron, his eyebrows knitting together, “You’re older than I remember.” 

Aaron laughs, the sound catching in his chest before he can stop it, “You’re older than I remember too buddy.” 

It breaks the tension, the way they all laugh for a second easing something in the air. They talk for a while, asking Jack about what he enjoyed at school - French - and what he did for fun - track. Aaron beams with pride he worries may be misplaced when Haley explains Jack already had a space on the high school track team even though he was still in middle school. That he was that good they’d already poached him. Haley tells them about her job, about how she’d gone back to school and got a qualification in child care, that she managed a daycare centre in the small town they’d called home all these years. If anyone else was listening in, it would seem like old friends catching up. Idle chit-chat to pass the time on a street corner before agreeing to not be strangers before going their separate ways. 

“What about you two?” Haley says, looking at their linked hands on Emily’s lap, “How long have you been together?”

“Eight years,” Aaron says, squeezing his wife’s hand, “Close to nine.” 

Haley smiles politely, “I’ll be honest, I always thought there was something there,” she says, her smile getting wider when Aaron frowns, “It’s true - just ask Jess. I said it to her before…” she drifts off and clears her throat, “Anyway. That doesn’t matter. How did it happen?” 

“I was away for a while,” Emily says, being as purposely vague about her time in Paris as she could be, the memories of it still painful after all these years, “And I came back and went to his place…we’ve been together ever since.” 

Despite everything, Aaron feels warmth spread through his chest at the memory of it. The look on her face, when he opened his door to her, stood there on his doormat, still wearing the outfit she’d work to the Senate Committee, a shine in her eyes he now knew had been love. 

“Are you with anyone?” Aaron asks without thinking, cursing himself as he says it, sure it’s too intrusive, “You don’t have to-”

“No it’s okay,” Haley replies, “There’s…there is someone but I’ve never let it get serious,” she says, her lips pressed together, “Just in case.” She doesn’t have to explain what she means, they all know what she hasn’t said. That her life was on hold just in case this very thing happened, in case she was suddenly pulled from her life in a second with no questions asked. She clears her throat again before she carries on, “Do you have kids?” She asks, and Emily can tell she’s asked on instinct, that it was a follow-up question she’d ask anyone if she was getting to know them, her flashing as she realises what she’s asked, her assumption that they didn’t have children clear, “I’m sorry, that was-”

“Actually,” Aaron says, cutting her off, his grip on Emily’s hand bordering on painful, “We do.” 

The silence returns with a deafening crack. Loud and painful as Jack’s brow furrows and Haley heaves in a deep breath, her jaw clenched before she replies, “You do?” 

“Yes, we do,” Emily nods and she squeezes Aaron’s hand before she disconnects herself from him. She walks the short distance to the desk and picks up one of the framed photos, smiling briefly at the photo of her, Aaron and the kids. She turns back, not missing how Haley’s attention has been drawn to her nameplate on the desk,  and she passes the picture to her, sure that any warring emotions would be calmed by seeing her children’s sweet faces, just three more innocents pulled into one dead man’s determination for power and control. She sits back down on the arm of the couch, reaching for Aaron’s hand again, “Hugo is 7, Leo is 5 and Stella is 3.” 

“You had more kids?” Jack asks, frowning as he looks between Aaron and the picture in his mother’s hands, his siblings all smiling up at him from behind glass. A moment in time of a normal family life that he’d only been able to dream about. He stands up, forced upwards by his emotions and he clears his throat, “I want to go.” 

“Jack-” Aaron says, standing up too, not letting go of Emily’s hand, “I know this isn’t easy.”

“Can we go, please?” Jack says, looking at his mother, ignoring his father’s gaze and Haley nods, leaving the picture in her hands on the couch as she stands. 

“Of course, honey,” she says, smiling tightly as she looks back at Aaron and Emily, “I’ll call you,” she says, “We can talk again when everything is a little less…”

She drifts off and Aaron nods, holding Emily closer to stop himself from reaching out for his son, not wanting to cross any boundaries the teenager was firmly putting in place, “Jack, I-”

“I’ll wait in the hall,” Jack says, cutting over him as he steps out of the office, Aaron deflates, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly, and Emily wraps both of her hands around one of his as they watch Jack leave. 

Haley sighs and closes her eyes, her grip on her purse tight as she looks at them, “It’s hard on him,” she says, her lips pressed together, “He’s spent years asking about you. We talked about you every night at bedtime when he was small and now we’ve come back and you’ve…moved on.” The way she speaks is full of anger neither Aaron nor Emily deserves, but that they know she isn’t wrong to feel and it hurts, a dagger to their guts that makes it momentarily hard to breathe, “Like I said,” she says, turning towards the door to follow her son, “I’ll call.” 

Once they are alone again Aaron slips down onto the couch, his head in his hands as he lets out a shuddering breath, “That was…” 

Emily sighs, her eyes temporarily drifting shut so she can gather herself before she sits down next to him, her hand on his back between his shoulder blades as she rubs circles there, “That was as good as it was going to be, I think,” she says, smiling encouragingly at him when he looks up at her, “It’s a lot. And he’s a kid. Being a teenager is rough at the best of times.” 

He hums in agreement and rests his head on her shoulder, “I know it’s stupid, that it was never going to be easy,” he says, sinking further into her embrace when she wraps her arms around him, her hands holding his head to her chest, “But I really wish it was.” 

She turns and kisses his forehead, taking a moment to breathe him in before she rests her cheek on the top of his head. She looks over at the other end of the couch, at the face down picture of her family, hidden from view, and she feels anxiety spark in her gut, a feeling that things were only going to get more painful and complicated taking up room in her chest. 

“Me too, honey,” she says, holding him closer, “Me too.” 

___

October 2012

“Everything looks good.”

The relief is palpable, her sigh stuttering as she looks from husband to her doctor, her smile wide and eyes shining, “Really?”

Aarons squeezes her hand, shifting as close as he can to her from where he’s sitting next to the bed, his elbows skimming her side. The doctor nods, her smile kind as she looks back at the ultrasound screen, “Your baby is measuring perfectly for how far along you are,” she assures her, “And the anatomy scan hasn’t shown any anomalies,” she smiles kindly, clearly used to the mix of relief and disbelief washing over the expectant parent’s faces, “Your baby looks perfect.” 

Emily chokes on a sob, shaking her head at herself as she starts to cry, “Damn it,” she sniffs, wiping her cheeks with the hand not linked in Aaron’s, “I cry at everything these days.” 

The doctor chuckles politely and hands her some tissues, “Don’t worry, it’s totally normal,” she says, “I’ll print you some pictures in a minute, but before I do I just want to check if you still want to know what you’re having?” 

Emily nods, her heart stuttering in her chest as she squeezes Aaron’s hand, her gaze flicking to him, his reassuring nod all she needs. In another life, she thinks she’d have waited to find out, but she knew what emotions would be attached to them having a boy. She wanted them to be prepared, to know whether they were having a son or a daughter, so whatever they might feel in this room would be long gone by the time their baby was born.

“Yeah,” she says, turning back to the doctor, “We want to find out.” 

Aaron leans in closer, a kiss stamped against her knuckles as he trails his thumb across her forehead, desperate to be as close to her as possible. The doctor shifts the wand on Emily’s belly, the only sound in the room the clicking of buttons on the ultrasound machine as she focuses on the screen. 

She smiles at them, “Congratulations - you’re having a boy.” 

Emily’s joy is sharp. It’s overwhelming and almost suffocating as it fills her lungs, but it’s short-lived. Aaron’s hand briefly loosens around hers, his thumb stuttering on her forehead, and he doesn’t cover the flash of pain in his eyes before she looks at him. He smiles at her, as much happiness carved into his dimples as there was sadness, every moment in their life together tainted by what was missing from it. 

“A boy, sweetheart,” his voice shaky in a way the doctor would mistake for excitement, “We’re having a boy.” 

She smiles, her hand on his cheek as she pulls him in for a soft kiss, the taste of grief passing from his lips to hers, “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he replies, recovered from the news now, his happiness overtaking everything else, but it’s too late for her to have not noticed, for it to not forever be a part of this moment.

When they get home, Aaron excuses himself to the home office. She doesn’t question it, swallows down the pain she feels because she knows whatever he’s feeling is worse. She sits on the couch, an ultrasound picture in her hands as she stares at it, trailing her fingers back and forth over the image of her son’s face, a smile flickering over her face at the slope of his nose. 

“Sorry about the nose, sweet boy,” she says, placing her hand on her bump, her smile getting wider when she feels him move, a shifting beneath her skin she wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to, love and joy spreading through her every time she felt it. She was excited for Aaron to feel it too, for the movements to get stronger and sharper so he could be a part of this, “Although,” she jokes, smiling when she feels more movement that she’d watched so carefully on the ultrasound screen earlier so she could picture it now, her eyes drifting closed as she imagines her son wiggling in her belly, “Daddy’s nose isn’t small either. So I think you were screwed either way,” her smile fades as she thinks about the sadness that permeated everything do with this. How even finding out they were having a little boy only highlighted what they were missing, “I love you so much, baby. Daddy does too. And we’ll do everything to make sure you’re safe.” 

She isn’t sure how long she sits there, talking to her son about anything and everything, her fingers drawing patterns over her bump as she chases his movements. Eventually, she hears the office door open and her husband’s footsteps. She turns to look at him when he walks into the living room, her smile soft as their eyes meet. 

“Hi,” she says, swallowing thickly as she looks back down at her bump, her throat clogged with emotions she can’t bring herself to name, “I was just telling him about his Aunt Pen,” she says, her smile shaking as Aaron comes over to join her on the couch, “And how she’ll buy him everything he ever wants.” 

Aaron chuckles, a half-hearted thing that hangs in the air around them as he places his hand on her belly, “She will love spoiling you,” he says, his eyes meeting Emily’s, “We may have to tell her to calm down, it’s not like we can’t get him everything we need ourselves.” 

She smiles, leaning in to kiss him, her lips soft against his, “Well,” she says, kissing him again, “You can be the one to have that conversation with her,” she says, pulling back, her lips pressed together, chasing the taste of him on her skin. His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, the sadness he was trying his best to hide from her lingering in them. “I’m sorry.” 

He frowns, his eyebrows knitting together as he tilts his head slightly, “What for sweetheart?” 

She huffs out a breath, “I don’t know,” she says, shaking her head as she wipes tears from her cheeks, unsure when she’d even started crying, “For the fact we never got Foyet. That Jack and Haley are still gone. That my birth control may as well have been candy,” she laughs bitterly, leaning into his touch when he cups her cheek and wipes her tears for her, “That we’re having a boy. I know…” she looks down, her chest heaving, “I know it would have been easier if we were having a girl.” 

“Em, you have nothing to apologise for,” he says fiercely, the sternness in his voice a contradiction to his soft touch on her cheek as he continues to wipe away fresh tears, “You are the reason I’m still standing after everything with Foyet,” he says, pressing his forehead against hers, “You’ve held me together since long before you showed up on my doorstep saying you had no place to stay,” they both chuckle, his desperate and hers wet at it catches in her throat, “We’ll get him one day. And the baby…” he swallows thickly, “We made him together. We’ll love him together too, and I could never be sorry about that,” he pulls back to kiss her forehead, “And, not to mention that Reid would remind you I’m the one who determines if we have a boy or a girl,” he smiles at her, a lopsided thing that warms her from the inside out, “You have nothing to apologise for, and I’ll tell you that however many times you need me to.”

She nods, leaning forward so her face is pressed against his chest, “I love you,” she says, sucking in a shaky breath.

“I love you too,” he says, rubbing circles on her back, “And him. I never want you to doubt that. I just…I just needed a moment.”

“I know,” she replies, smiling tightly when she pulls back, “I know,” she runs her fingers through his hair, “It’s hard,” she pauses, unsure if she should acknowledge the elephant in the room, but she pushes forward, not wanting anything unsaid between them, “Especially with Jack’s birthday coming up.” 

He nods, his hold on her tightening, “Yeah,” he replies, shaking his head, “He’s turning 7 and I don’t even know what he likes. If he still likes Captain America or if he’s grown out of it. If he’s already riding a bike,” he smiles sadly, “Haley was always terrible at riding a bike so I wonder if someone else taught him.” 

She knows she can’t say anything to make it better, so she moves to sit in his lap, her side pressed against his chest. It was the closest she could get to him these days, her bump already in the way of a chest to chest hug, and she couldn’t pretend she didn’t like it, that she didn’t enjoy being completely curled up in his arms. 

“Do you want to do what we usually do on his birthday?” She asks, idly thinking about how they’d have a baby in tow next year, strapped to her chest or in her arms as they ate in Jack’s favourite diner before they went to the park and walked around, sad smiles on their faces as they watched children play. They could take their little boy on the swings, sit him in Emily’s lap as they barely moved back and forth and tell him all about his big brother he’d meet one day. 

“Yeah,” he replies, kissing her forehead, “I’d like that,” he rests his hand on her belly, “Is he moving?” 

She hums and nods, “Yeah. He is.” 

“I can’t wait to feel it,” he says, his thumb stroking back and forth over her bump, “Now we know, we can start to think of names.” 

She groans, “Most boy names suck,” she says, scrunching up her nose, “How did you come up with Jack?” 

He chuckles, “It took a while,” he admits, “We kept trying to think of names that didn’t belong to a serial killer.” 

She furrows her brow, a disbelieving chuckle catching in her throat, “Honey, you named him after the most prolific-”

“I know,” he says, cutting her off, “Trust me, I see the irony in it.” 

She chuckles, and she rests her head on his shoulder and kisses his neck, “We should buy a book of names or something.” 

He smiles, his chest warm with love and joy all because of her and the baby that lay beneath her skin, “I’ll go out and buy one tomorrow.” 

They argue back and forth about names for weeks before they settle on Hugo, a name she’d chosen because it honoured the man called the father of science fiction, something that had earned her an eye roll from her husband and a low whisper about her being a nerd. He relents, because he was always going to, the joy in her eyes when she finally found a name she loved addictive to him. She smiles in victory when he agrees, and for the first time since she found herself looking at a positive pregnancy test, she allows herself to believe that everything would be okay. 

[briefcasejuice]

math homework masterlist / AO3

author's note: matt's 'extra classes' are taught by someone named stick, btw. word count: 515 characters: matt & mike murdock summary: evenings after highschool. content: brother shenanigans.

“Based on intuition– like just guessing based on what you know about her,” Mike raised his hands above him, his left leg swinging from its place crossed on top of his right leg as he laid on his back on the couch. “What's the probability that Cindy will go out with me?”

“Maybe you could calculate that if you stopped having me do your Math homework,” Matt mumbled from his place on the floor, fingers scanning papers imprinted with braille, scattered across the second-hand coffee table. “Read me the next question.”

Mike made a noise of exaggerated frustration, sitting up anyway, “I was gonna leave the rest for tomorrow before school.”

“We both know we’re not getting up early enough to do that. It’s either we finish up now or miss the subway.”

“Damn it,” Mike surrendered, leaving the couch for the opposite side of the table in front of his twin. Matt’s glasses were off, the backside of his hair sticking up oddly — from his unintentional nap earlier, Mike guessed. “Your hair looks like shit, by the way.”

“Get a dollar, dickhead,” Matt teased him, sticking a thumb behind him and in the general direction of the entertainment stand where the swear jar stood beside the television. He smoothed his other hand over his fiery-red head.

“Hey! You too, man,” Mike chuckled, not even getting up. They’d given up on the swear jar weeks ago, the plastic jar with a half-torn off paper sticker labelling it ‘COFFEE’ standing three quarters empty; the lone quarter was filled with rusted pennies and crumpled dollar bills. It didn’t stop them from making jokes about it, though. Mike liked thinking about the inside jokes when he was bored in class, anyway.

Matt yawned, rubbing his eye then planting his head on top of the most recent handout he’d pulled out. Mike paused tapping his pen against his forehead to observe him, “Not sure why you took all those extra classes. You’re tired all the time and we never hang out much anymore.”

“Need ‘em for law,” Matt murmured into the paper, not even raising his head, making his voice muffled.

“You’re really going through with it, huh?” Mike mumbled, more to himself than his burnt out brother. If Matt was doing law, what would he do? There was his ‘job’ but it made him feel as if he could genuinely be doing more; it felt like he was forgetting something but he didn’t know what.

Matt hummed, the sound lethargic and whispered, making Mike tap him on the head. “Don’t fall asleep, dude,” he said urgently.

“Shit,” he whispered, sitting upright a bit too quickly.

“Swear jar,” Mike teased, his voice monotone as he scribbled down the answer for another question, right beside a misshapen drawing of a polygon. Two inches. Or maybe it was just one? He’d figure it out when his teacher marked it, he shrugged.

“Cindy’s never gonna date you,” Matt bit back a little too harshly.

Mike dropped his pencil in defeat; his voice held the sound of a pout, “C’mon, man. Too far.”

all feedback/criticism is appreciated! i do not give permission for this and any of my fanfiction to be reposted or translated to any other platform without my consent.

[donutsupremacy]

Periodic table

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Summary

"When your own crush rejecting someone else's confession, it gives you two feelings: Hope and fear. The alchemist never thought he'd had to experience those types of emotions before. But hearing his light-green haired assistant turn down someone's heartfelt confession— there was still hope for him, but he feared having to take the risk."

Warnings

Very Fluffy

Very long (giggity-)

Rejection (Sucrose to Timaeus)

Corny pick-up lines

Science stuff

1 Dirty joke (Poor innocent and naive bedo)

A/N: I only made this cause I wanted to make Albedo choose the worst person as his wingman, Kaeya lol

also from what I read on Timaeus' stuff, he envied Sucrose for her work, but hey I already said I diddle daddle with stuff like this so for the sake of this fic imma make him have a smol crush on her. It's either him or Tighnari, idk who else to ship Sucrose with and it's very random to ship ber and tighnari—

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Witness the romance

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"I'm sorry... Timaeus. But I think we should just stick as being friends."

Halting his scribbling, the light blonde male perked up at the sound of his assistant's voice coming from outside. Turning his head, he saw no one standing by the entrance of the camp, but he could still make out the sound of his fellow assistants chatting nearby.

"Uhm... y-you're certain you won't give me a chance to prove myself?" Albedo gazed back at his clipboard of notes, they were almost done, all he needed to do now was to record the conclusions of his small experiment.

But he couldn't focus on writing, the lead of his pencil hovering over the paper as his teal eyes squinted in an attempt to concentrate. Yet, all he could focus on was Sucrose's voice.

"It's not that I don't think your skills are bad... I just see you as more of a sibling to me. I genuinely think you're amazing and you have a lot of potential." His assistant's voice spoke, softer than the snow on Dragonspine. "But... I actually already have someone else on my mind."

'Ah, so she does have an interest in someone... how lucky.' The blonde shook his head, opting to place his clipboard down on the table for the time being, he can't focus on his work if all he could think about was this mysterious suitor for Sucrose.

It's odd, he rarely ever felt some sort of... 'hatred' towards a person before.

Albedo placed both of his hands on the table, slightly leaning towards and staring at the large glass beaker in front of him that was filled with a type of chemical substance. The reflection on his glass displayed his furrowed brows and frown, as though he was bothered by something. But truth to be told, in a way, he kind of was.

So, what if she's in a romantic relationship with someone? That just means she'll have someone who'll be there for her when she's in trouble, they'll make sure she's resting after many hard days at work, hold and cuddle her when she's completely tired out, listen to any of her troubles...

His teal eyes, though concentrated and deep in thought, stared at the eyes of his reflection that returned the gaze. His mind was like static, buzzing in annoyance as he wondered why this little 'revelation' was bothering him.

The more he stared at his reflection, the more he thought about Sucrose... and taking the place as her suitor.

Albedo placed a hand over his mouth, his brows knitted together when he thought about being his loyal assistant's romantic interest. It would work, right? After all, he certainly enjoys her company almost as much as he enjoys playing with Klee. She likes his company too, right?

He would be lying if he said he disliked being with Sucrose. He admired her dedication when it comes to work and her caring nature when she noticed he was ignoring his needs, her timid nature only made her even more precious in his eyes.

"Mister Albedo? Sorry for taking so long, but we found some starsilver ore!" The blonde looked over his shoulder, absentmindedly smiling at the sight of Sucrose happily waving at him with a small bag of said ores.

Perhaps... it wouldn't hurt to express his feelings for her?

"It's not a problem. Set them by the shelf over there and sort them by size, please." Albedo instructed, picking up the clipboard and briefly scanning his notes.

His nose scrunched as he pretended to jot down his findings, wondering how to ask the light green haired girl about who she took an interest in. Sneaking a glance at the girl, Albedo noticed his other assistant entering the campsite. They were no longer alone. 'It would be an inappropriate time to ask the question...' Albedo thought, letting out a muted sigh as he attempts to push those thoughts away and focus on his work.

<Timeskip>

"Big brother Albedo!" The alchemist smiled upon seeing the little girl in red scurrying down the Favonius Headquarters flight of stairs, her light blonde hair bouncing from each and every step along with her elf-like ears. However, that smile soon dropped once he saw the notorious calvary captain following behind her, his face showing the same sly cat-like grin he always wore.

"...Kaeya." Albedo greeted rather coldly, to which the blue haired male only playfully hummed in acknowledgement. As expected with how their personalities clashed, the two rarely ever get along unless necessary. Even so, Albedo would much rather keep his distance from the calvary captain.

Unfortunately, perhaps he could be useful for once.

His teal eyes returned to Klee, who was now already clinging onto his leg and looking up at him with her big bright crimson eyes. His smile returned, his teal eyes shining as he went down on one knee to pet her head. "Hello, Klee. How have you been?"

"Great! Kaeya took Klee to Cider Lake today and we let the ducks play with Jumpy Dumpty!" Albedo looked up at the taller male, raising a brow to which Kaeya only shrugged.

"That's great, Klee... Ah, but, i'll play with you in a bit, there's an important... 'Issue' I have to address with Kaeya. Sucrose and Noelle are outside, why don't you go play with them for a bit?" Albedo urged, already dreading his decision to have a chat with the blue haired male who seemed quite interested and eager to talk with the alchemist.

With a bit of persuasion and after whining a little, the Pyro wielding child eventually exited the building, leaving the two alone. "My, my. I never thought there would be a day where the chief alchemist of the Knights of Favonius wants to have a chat with me."

Today's going to be a long day for Albedo.

"Yes. Well... this is because I inquire... your assistance." Albedo reluctantly admitted, knowing it's best to just get straight to the point rather than beating around the bush and stalling with idle chatter.

"Very well, then, i'm all ears." Kaeya waved his hand, signalling for the shorter male to continue. Albedo thanked the Archons for making him compliant.

A sigh left his lips, already seeing the embarrassing outcome as soon as he explained everything to Kaeya. And unfortunately for him, he was correct.

"Ahahaha! So, you need my help... to woo Sucrose?" The blue haired male teased, leaning down a little to grin and enjoy the sight of Albedo's cheeks slowly growing red.

"...Would it kill you to not behave like this?" The blonde asked, surpressing his anger while glaring Kaeya right in his one eye. Though, as he already knew, a meaningless threat like that won't be enough to stop the taller male from laughing.

To be fair, it was either him or Lisa. But, it was Lisa's day off. He knew better than to bother the normally busy librarian on her break, lest he decides to endure a shockwave to the chesy.

"Okay, okay... i'll stop now, hahaha... Well, when it comes to charming a special someone, you've certainly chose the right person for this job." Kaeya smirked, a hand on his hip as Albedo only rolled his eyes.

"It's better to say that I chose the most annoying person instead." The alchemist grumbled under his breath. "Let's not waste any more time here... What... should I do?"

Albedo missed that twinkle of mischief in Kaeya's periwinkle eyes.

<Timeskip>

He really should've just went to Lisa instead.

After a string of ridiculous attempts to charm the timid girl, all of his results were ended in comolete disasters.

First, treating her to dinner sounded like a perfectly normal choice, plain but romantic. It was by pure coincidence that Good Hunter's chef, Sara, had suffered an accident and closed the restaurant for the time being.

No matter, from Kaeya's suggestion, he could always treat her out for a lovely picnic. Unfortunately, he had underestimated the amount of Hilichurls and Slimes wandering around outside, seemingly more aggravated than usual. Not even allowing a moment of peace before he was dragged into several dozen fights with them, where was the traveller when he needed them? Poor Sucrose decided to call of their unofficial picnic date in favor for their safety.

Kaeya's suggestions only grew more and more ridiculous from there, but his suggestions for pick-up lines were even worse.

"You're so sweet, it's giving me a toothache."

"Really? Mister Albedo, I think you might have to consult a dentist..."

...

"The doctor told me I was lacking vitamin U... will you help me?"

"Oh, of course! I suggest you eat various cruciferous vegetables like cabbage, broccoli, kale..."

...

"Do you have a map? Because I keep getting lost in your eyes."

"...A map?... To where?..."

...

"If women were boogers, i'd pick you first."

"...Y-You think i'm a booger?..."

...

"Hey, Sucrose, did you sit in sugar?... because you have a very sweet rear."

*SLAP*!

He shuddered at that slap Noelle gave, it was a mistake to say that line, let alone when the maid was nearby.

Albedo let out a tired groan into his hand, it almost 10PM and he was wondering if he had wasted the day by sabotaging his relationship with her instead of improving it. Maybe it would be better if they'd just stay as friends... it might interfere with their work.

"...No." The blonde clicked his tongue, disappointed at how easily he was backing down. "I can't just give up this easily..." Albedo ran his gloved fingers through his fluffy light blonde hair, massaging his scalp as the brain inside was wondering how could he express his feelings for her.

His teal eyes dart around the items on his desk, frantically looking for any sort of inspiration, the only light source in his room coming from the desk lamp.

And that's when he saw his notebook, opened to a page that was displaying the periodic table.

Hesitantly, he dragged the book over and scanned every single element name along with it's symbol. His brows furrowed, concentrated as an idea slowly formed in his head.

"...Let's just hope this works."

<Timeskip>

"Ah, there you are." The light green haired girl jumped at the familiar voice, glancing back to see Albedo walking towards her with a calm smile.

As if on instinct, Sucrose frantically gathered her equipment, preparing to make a dash to get away from her teacher who was acting abnormal. Realizing she was attempting to escape, Albedo rushed over and slammed both of his hands onto the table behind her, effectively trapping her between him with his arms as the cage.

It's unlike him to lose his composure this easily.

Sucrose let out a squeak, her face flushed brighter than hed superior who froze for a few seconds, his brain registering the intimate position they were in. "A-Ahem... My apologies, Sucrose... but please, don't run away."

The shorter girl only shrank away, hiding the lower part of her face with her gloved hand. "I... wanted to apologise for my odd behavior yesterday. It was inappropriate and thoughtless of me to not realize how uncomfortable I made you." Albedo sighed, looking away with regret and guilt in his eyes. "I only ask for your forgiveness..."

Slowly raising his arms away, he let out a mental sigh of relief as Sucrose remained in place and not running away from him. "M-Mister A-Albedo... I genuinely don't know what's gotten into you yesterday... what happened?"

Her amber eyes no longer held fear, but concern and worry for the blonde who felt his heart flutter upon seeing them. "It's... complicated. But, I can explain... I take it you have forgiven me?"

"Of course I do. Is there something bothering you?" His assistant asked, eliciting a chuckle out of him.

"In a way, yes. Take a look." Albedo opened his notebook, quickly flipping to the same page where the periodic table was in. "Yesterday, I was experimenting with a few of these elements and I have discovered something... 'special'."

Sucrose's eyes shined brightly, impressed by his work just by his words alone. "Really? What did you find out?"

"Here, I have combined these four elements together to achieve a marvelous result." Flipping to the next page, he had written down 4 elements; "Lithium, Oxygen, Vanadium, Europium".

"These combination of elements don't they crea—"

"I know what you're gonna say, Sucrose... But please, I ask that you take a look at these elements and connect them by their symbols." Albedo's heart was racing, watching her puzzled expression as she flipped back to the page with the periodic table.

She was getting closer to figuring everything out.

"L..."

His palms grew sweaty.

"O..."

His teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

"V..."

And here it is.

"E..."

"..."

"L-Love?..."

Her surprised amber eyes meet his anxious teal ones, awaiting for her response that was stuck in her throat.

"I-... I-It's a 'chemical reaction' that I have been feeling everytime we were together... Sucrose, you have been making me feel... odd everytime I saw you. It's only until recently that I have come to a conclusion in this experiment; I love you."

Albedo reached out for her hands, holding them gently and raising them to his chest. "Tell me... do you feel the same as I do?"

Out of surprise, Sucrose slightly flinched from the touch of his hand on hers. But her eyes softened as she stared into his pleading anxious ones, she has never seen him like this before. "M-Mist— I-I mean, Albedo... y-you 'love' me?"

Albedo wanted to awnser with a short and simple 'yes', but he couldn't help and spill all of his thoughts. "Back in Dragonspine, I had overheard your conversation with Timaeus."

Sucrose's face immediately turned bright red, her ears perked upwards in embarrasment as he continued, unaware of her flustered state. "I didn't mean to, of course. But when I heard that you not only turned down his feelings, you already had someone in mind. I couldn't help but feel... afraid. I was afraid of seeing you get taken away from me. You're everything to me, Sucrose. I can't stand the thought of you being with anyone else but me."

The alchemist risked a glance at the girl who had a look of astonishment on her face, he couldn't decipher if she would accept or reject his confession. "But, I understand if I am not the one you're looking for. I can't take you away from someone who makes you happy‐"

Before he could continue, he felt a pair of hands cup his face, his gaze now on Sucrose who was now smiling at him. "Albedo, I think there was a bit of a misunderstanding."

"...Pardon?"

The light green haired girl giggled, letting his face go and shyly tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "You see... when I said I already had someone in mind; I was actually taking about you."

"Y-You were??" Albedo's jaw dropped, but he was partially relieved at the same time for obvious reasons.

"Of course. Albedo, I love you too. You're kind, intelligent and hardworking... Honestly, I can't believe you didn't have a partner, let alone choosing someone like me." Sucrose shyly admitted, adjusting her spectacles that were starting to fall.

Albedo chuckled, slipping two fingers under her chin and tilting her head upwards for their eyes to connect with eachother once more. "Now, why would you think of yourself like that?"

"After all, you've created a reaction between us."

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

A/N: The choice of last words are so ironic for me because Geo is one of the elements that can't be swirled lmao

i should really stop making these oneshots hella long jesus christ what have i been writing-

[bloody-oath]

Any headcanons about Hannibal and Bubba swapping cooking tips, please? Probably definitely have to go shitpost on this one, haha. :D

＼（＾○＾）人（＾○＾）／

Hannibal in Bubba's Kitchen:

⋆ Wanted to chuck when he saw the Sawyer's kitchen. Fastest time he has ever pulled out a hanky to hold against his face. GG on the PB. The air reeks of brown minesweeper. He desperately wishes to give the room a thorough clean - with gasoline and a lighter. The bowl in his cell was more pristine to drink out of than any crockery in this pigsty.

⋆ Wonders if he should stop giving $10 a month to the disadvantaged in Africa and start giving it to Bubba instead. He has seen huts on the Discovery Channel in a better state than this bomb-struck outhouse. Refuses to lay a finger on the slab of human flesh Bubba placed in front of him, but no matter because a group of cockroaches just made off with it.

Hannibal Trying Bubba's Food:

⋆ (He doesn't. Can't eat what isn't edible.)

Hannibal's Cooking Tips for Bubba:

⋆ Stop trying. Stop calling this dumpster fire a kitchen. Stop inching closer to death for eating the filth that gets produced in this room - this house.

⋆ Never use salt and throw in a lettuce leaf once in a while.

⋆ Taking pity on the simpleton, he scribbles down an easy-to-follow recipe for Bubba to learn. It's like giving a pogo-stick to someone in a wheelchair because Bubba can't read, and even if he could, there is no chance he could translate that loopy handwriting resembling coiled telephone cord.

Bubba in Hannibal's Kitchen:

⋆ This is the first time Bubba has seen his reflection in the cutlery. He is like a bird staring into a mirror for a good minute. One pretty boy looking at another. Holding a polished fork makes him feel rich. If this ain't going to be a family heirloom... Simply existing in Hannibal's kitchen makes him feel like he's dirtying the immaculate space.

⋆ Disappointed in the lack of a personal touch via decorative, bonified (literally) items. The absent clutter and disinfectant fragrance irritates the rural man. It's so clean, it's uncomfortable. Bubba is about to head home and waft up a gift sack of eau de farm to spruce up the hospital-smelling hellhole.

Bubba Trying Hannibal's Food:

⋆ What fucking slop has he been consuming all his life if this exists? The delicate presentation on his plate makes him think twice before eating it. Is it even food anymore? Hannibal's MasterChef dish goes underappreciated and stone cold before Bubba has a taste of it. Then, it hits him: Drayton can't cook for shit. It's the next closest thing to an orgasm he has experienced.

Bubba's Cooking Tips for Hannibal:

⋆ (Speaks absolute dribble and doesn't assume it's a problem. Might have genuinely shared good advice, but the wiser man is clueless.)

Next time on Cannibal Swap...

[unohanadaydreams]

How would the captains react to catching their partner cheating on them? I’m feeling angst tonight

Finally some good fucking food. Angst; it’s what’s for dinner and I’m chowing down with you, anon.

Features: angst. Some violence and torture with Gin and Mayuri.

How The Original Captains React To Being Cheated On:

Genryusai Yamamoto:

There’s little to no reaction. You wouldn’t be the first and won’t be the last to use him for status or money or petty bragging rights. Just another day.

Quietly, behind closed doors, he does mourn. Not for the loss of you, but for the prospect of starting again. He caresses the pretty things he’s bought you, each touch a vote for or against bothering.

If you come to him, apologetic and willing to repent, he’ll look past the transgression. Less work for him to undertake, in the end, and the power of demanding this is that in the name of forgiveness suits him.

Shunsui Kyoraku:

He can’t help but laugh. All those years chasing girls and washing his hands of the consequences come to catch him now that he’s standing still with just one hand holding his.

Business goes on as usual, but he’s sloppier around the edges—spilling sake on paper work, falling asleep against Jushiro’s grave, and forsaking the frequent partying he’s known for in lieu of furiously scribbling down the perfect love story he didn’t get.

Honestly, he’s willing to forgive if it wasn’t done out of love for the other person and there’s a willingness to work on the relationship. Shunsui has played the unfaithful lover more times than he can remember; being black out drunk more often than sober will do that to you.

Soi Fon:

She can’t speak and doesn’t bother. Throat closed with anger, she lets her body tell you where your relationship lies—thrown off the bed and kicked outside.

There’s nothing but hatred for you and humiliation for herself. Not just personally, but professionally; a leader of the 2nd division being caught unawares is irony at the cost of her reputation.

People are always leaving her behind once she trusts them. After weeks, she’ll ask you why. Because that’s always the question burning in her chest. Why can’t she be a person someone stays for.

Gin Ichimaru:

Cute, how you think you can shuffle off and away from him after getting caught. He doesn’t flinch, talking with conversational tones. Hey, sweetie, who’s your little friend? Aww, they don’t talk or some thin’?

There’s two options; submit to grueling public humiliation or die. Gin loves to have fun, after all. And, isn’t it fun having to watch the person you cheated with get toyed with like a mouse under kitty claws? Aren’t you having fun kissing the corpse? Wasn’t your silly mistake worth it?

Gin has never forgiven, forgotten, or turned down an opportunity to make someone who cares about him regret feeling so. Your life is hell and the jailor can’t decide whether to keep your head under boiling water or kill you. Fun!

Retsu Unohana:

The impulse to leave as the only one alive is temptation incarnate. She is firm, restrained, and digs into her cheeks until her teeth pop through.

She keeps waiting to calm, for the situation to become objective instead of the turmoil in her gut. Retsu is especially brusque with everyone while working, making every stitch job a painful one. Why is there always something. Why can’t all the change finally stick; why is she still glad to feel the pain so she can inflict it back?

The betrayal was the end and there’s years of coping methods that keep you from spilling your guts on a sword, but it feels like a very near thing to her. Professionally, she’s less kind, and your next set of wounds healed by the 4th get infected. Poor thing.

Sosuke Aizen:

As far as you know, he’s stricken with heartbreak and disappointment. His voice is a touch too loud when telling you off—others hear. And disapprove greatly. He asks any bystanders for their discretion towards his privacy, adding a tear or two for effect.

Your relationship being over matters little; dime a dozen are the people who’ll fall over themselves to be his. The audacity of treating him, your better, with such unfairness? Affects him like an itch under skin.

Of course, he forgives you. He makes a show of it and the number of people out for your unhappiness grows. How could you cheat on such a gracious, loving man? You are punished with little action from himself, the many shinigami who view him with starry-eyes doing their work without needing explicit instruction.

Byakuya Kuchiki:

There’s little to say or do outside of making it clear he wants you gone in a permanent way. Reaction is the thief of dignity, so he saves any emotion for when he’s alone.

Self flagellation is his favorite dessert and he is convinced the bitter taste reflects his character somehow. In a way, it speaks to his lack of care and dignity as a clan leader; what fully aware man could let this happen?

For you, there aren’t any chances let alone forgiveness. You’ve stung his pride in multiple ways and only social norms keep you from dying in a duel over it. But as a shinigami—as a captain—he has avenues to vent his vindication until he feels the crime has been payed for. Too bad for you that pride is worth it’s weight in gold for a Kuchiki.

Sajin Komamura:

He runs away from the situation as soon as possible. Of course you cheated on him; how foolish to think anyone would not. At least he knows now and can get back to his normal.

Being alone isn’t all bad. There’s more time for his pets, his company, and his training. Comforting, familiar, he can pretend this is how it always was. Just him, alone.

His lack of self-esteem outweighs his want for justice. It was unfair to subject anyone to…himself, anyway. He can’t blame you for wanting someone untouched by the curse of the beast.

Kaname Tosen:

There’s more anger than even you expect. Injustice in anything, especially something so personal, enrages him. But he has the self control and sense to only send you packing.

Still, it’s all he can think about. Better to be consumed by this than the glacial pace his better world is taking. You’re one of the people holding that goal back, he’s sure. He insists on a talk that’s really just a long, painful lecture.

People like you, who disregard what’s right, don’t deserve forgiveness and the upset within him darkens. Maybe there is a way you can make things right. They’re so close to perfecting the Arrancar and he’d like to see how you’ve contributed once his eyes open, finally able to see.

Toshiro Hitsugaya:

There aren’t any dramatics or punishments or even words to give you other than ‘goodbye’. He sees the break and he cuts it cleanly. There’s no need for anything else.

Largely he copes by doing what he always does—working, training, meditating. There are a few sips of alcohol and punches to his pillow, but you’re no longer someone he cares about. The ice has holed over the spot you took just fine.

You don’t exist to him anymore. If you try to apologize, his eyes will pass over you and he’ll remind you once before ignoring you again: He’s a captain and he’s closed the conversation and now he’s getting back to work. Goodbye.

Kenpachi Zaraki:

So you’re fucking somebody. Is that a big deal or something? Should he be hurt? Because all he can muster is annoyance.

And then he thinks about it. He lets it sink in that somebody was touching you while you’re his. Kenpachi understands the want to play, but isn’t love when someone is the best in your heart and only them? Like, strength but more fucking confusing.

He’s still undecided if there’s anything to forgive. He tells you to give it another go with him in the mix and likes the feeling better than walking in uninvited. So maybe it was just play…and maybe he’s more rough with you two than intended. But he leaves more content than he came, so he figures everything’s fine. He can always kill somebody later, once he’s figured it out for good.

Mayuri Kurotsuchi:

You’re knocked unconscious and so is the person you were in bed with. That’s the last you see of them or the world beyond one lab room.

Congratulations, you are now confined to a pill that is swallowed by gigai after gigai designed in your likeness. Isn’t he generous, letting you take part in his research still? Don’t you feel honored to still feel any part of his touch as he takes you apart somehow more painfully than the time before?

Because it is just research. He didn’t care about you enough to still feel enraged about it. This is purely out of principle, a logical response to your base actions. Don’t worry, it’s just forever.

Jushiro Ukitake:

The discovery is emotional and he struggles keep his dignity, especially when a coughing fit starts soon after. He can’t even tell you off without sickness leaking into the moment.

The spiral begins. You’re awful one moment and justified the next. He’s the victim, then the one who should’ve known. There was no good reason and then he coughs again and there’s one.

He could forgive you if you’re genuine and forthright with a reason that isn’t the weight which holds him under blankets or pushes blood past his lips. As long as the illness isn’t what poisoned the relationship, he could forgive you.

[chrisbitchtree]

For @disdaidal and @bisexual-cupcake, who wanted to see an expansion on this post about Billy accidentally sending a dick pic to Steve. I hope you both enjoy!

***

Billy was getting bored of waiting around. For a few days now, he’d been trying to find time to have Steven, a guy he’d met on Grindr, over to his dorm room for some fun. The problem was that Steve, his roommate, was always around. He was in nursing school, so the bulk of his time was spent studying. Late at night, and in the morning before class, he was around, nose in a book, looking adorable as he scribbled out notes, or chewed on the end of his pen, lost in thought.

The whole point of fucking Steven was to try to get Steve out of his head. It had been torture, living with Steve for the past year and a half. When they’d first met, on move in day freshman year, Billy had been immediately attracted to Steve. All long legs and doe eyes, messy brown hair and kissable lips, a god that Billy didn’t even believe in must really hate him to make Steve his roommate. Billy had fucked his way through what felt like half of Grindr trying to numb how he was feeling.

The longer they roomed together though, the harder it became. Along with being one of the hottest guys Billy had ever seen, Steve was a genuinely sweet and caring person. He always brought Billy a fancy coffee from the shop he worked at parttime on campus, he kept his half of the room neat and tidy the way Billy liked it, even though it was against his messy nature, and he was always there to lend an ear when Billy was having a bad day, or the nightmares woke him up again, thoughts of the pain his father had inflicted upon him dancing around in his head.

So, Steven was supposed to be the latest in a long list of hookups, none of which had left him half as satisfied as a single hug from Steve ever had. He’d sent the guy a photo of his hand wrapped around his hard dick, sticking out the top of his boxers, leaking pre from the tip to Steven 20 minutes ago, captioned I’m ready and waiting. Why the hell had the guy not responded yet? Steve would only be in class another hour, according to the big dry erase calendar they kept on their dorm room wall, to help them keep track of when they would have the room to themselves. He didn’t have long.

His phone buzzed, and he picked it up quickly. Oh, that’s why Steven hadn’t responded. Because Billy had sent the photo to Steve. And holy shit, from the sounds of his reply, Steve had liked what he’d seen.

11:02am

Steve: Fuck, Billy. I was hoping you’d feel this way. I’m leaving class early. I’ll be back soon.

Billy’s mind was racing. This was the exact thing he’d wanted for the past year and a half. But he should do the right thing and tell Steve the truth, right? But what if he was turned off, even if Billy told him that he did want him? He took out his phone and after triple checking that he had pulled up the right text thread, he texted Steven and told him not to bother coming over. He didn’t feel that bad. The guy was hot. He’d find someone else.

Billy pulled off his briefs and laid back in his bed and lazily stroked his dick, waiting for Steve. He heard the key in the lock, and put his arm behind his head, trying to look as enticing as possible. Steve entered the room, and Billy could see that he was already chubbing up in his khakis. Even if Billy had wanted to tell Steve the truth, he wouldn’t have had a chance, because the other boy was on him the second he got to Billy.

He straddled Billy’s hips, leaning down to capture his lips. They kissed, hard and fierce, then soft and slow, until they had to come up for air. Steve finally spoke. “Shit, baby. You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to do that. Since the second I saw you carrying all those moving boxes into our room, your arms flexing, I was hoping you’d want me as much as I want you. I can’t stop thinking about you. I’ve been jealous of every single one of those guys you’ve brought back here.”

Billy laughed. “You can’t stop thinking about me? I can’t stop thinking about you. But I never thought I’d have a chance. Didn’t know you were into dick. Every one of those guys was just a poor stand in for yor Fuck, Steve, that feels good. Don’t stop.” Steve was making his way down Billy’s neck, probably leaving hickeys as he went. The thought of Steve marking him was driving Billy wild. He moaned, tugging on Steve’s hair, spurring him on. He could feel Steve’s dick, now hard as a rock, pressing into his thigh, burning hot, even through his pants. Billy cupped him, finally getting a feel after wanting to get his hands on it for so long.

When they had first moved in, they had swapped stories about high school, and Steve had told him about his nickname, King Steve. When Billy had asked Steve the reason for the nickname, Steve had just laughed and winked. The first time Billy had seen Steve naked it had all come to light. The other boy was harbouring a monster in his pants. Even soft, it was huge, and ever since, Billy had been drooling for a taste of it.

Now he was going to have his chance, and Billy was going to take full advantage of it. “Come on, pretty boy, lets get you undressed,” he managed to spit out between moans of pleasure, as Steve took each of his nipples into his mouth in turn, tonguing around the silver barbells that ran through them. Steve reluctantly detached himself from Billy’s chest to yank his polo over his head and shove his khakis and briefs off. Springing free from the confines of his underwear, his dick slapped against his belly. If Billy thought Steve was huge soft, it was nothing compared to when he was fully hard.

Billy’s eyes almost bugged out of his head at the sight, and Steve blushed. “I know it’s a lot. I can bottom if you want. I never have, never done anything with a guy before, but I’ve been watching porn and fingering myself, just to see what it would feel like in case this opportunity ever came up…” Billy made it his mission to take Steve past the point of embarrassment. He shut Steve up with a kiss, sliding his hand behind the other boy’s neck, pulling him in, and shoving his tongue in his mouth. Steve groaned, tugging on the curls at the base of Billy’s neck.

Finally, Billy broke the other kiss so he could reassure Steve. “Princess, as much as I’d love to take you up on that, and I will soon enough, I might actually die if I don’t get you inside me, like yesterday. Be prepared for the ride of your life.” He took Steve’s leaking dick in his hand, giving it a few good tugs, as he dug his hand into the meat of the other boy’s thigh. He wanted to mark Steve up as good as Steve had marked him.

Before he ruined pussy for Steve forever, he wanted to have a taste of his prize. He gently pushed Steve back, so he was laying down, and kissed his way down his body, starting at his neck, and making his way down, stopping to lick and kiss every mole that he came by. “You’re beautiful, princess. So beautiful for me. I can’t wait to have you in my mouth.” Steve groaned loudly in response.

Even having said that, Billy teased the brunette, nipping and sucking on his thighs before taking him into his mouth. Steve was going wild, moaning so loudly that Billy was starting to think that the neighbours might hear. He loved it. “You like that, don’t you, princess? Feels good, doesn’t it?” Steve nodded, whimpering. “Come on baby, please.” Billy took pity on him, taking him into his mouth, as far as he could go. He couldn’t get him all in, but what he couldn’t take, he stroked in time with the bobbing of his head.

He sucked for all he was worth, and it was paying off, Steve yanking at Billy’s hair, practically wailing. “Ohhhhh Billy. Billy, baby. It feels so good, so fucking good. I’m gonna come though.” Billy didn’t pull off. This was exactly what he wanted. He wanted to taste Steve, and if the other boy came now, he would last longer inside of Billy. He kept sucking and stroking, and Steve gasped, spilling into Billy’s mouth. He swallowed what he could, some spilling out the sides of his lips. He reluctantly let Steve’s softening dick slip out, and licked his lips, gathering any stray drops that he could.

Steve petted Billy’s hair, practically boneless. “Holy shit, baby. That was amazing. I never knew it could feel that good.” Billy chuckled. “That’s one of the advantages of being with a guy, Steve. We know exactly what guys like.” Steve smiled. “Well, I don’t think I ever want head from anyone else again, guy or girl. That was too good. You’re too good, baby.” Billy beamed at the praise, soaking it all in. “Don’t worry about that, princess. Now that I’ve had you, I don’t think I could let you go, I’ve waited too long.”

Steve pulled Billy up on top of him and nosed at his neck through his curls. Billy could feel Steve’s grin against his skin. They stayed like that for a few minutes, but Billy was becoming painfully aware of how hard his dick still was. He started rutting against Steve’s leg, trying to relieve some of the pressure. Steve noticed what he was doing and flipped them onto their sides, taking Billy’s dick in his hand, and capturing his lips in a kiss.

Oh wow, that felt good. Steve really knew what he was doing with his lips and his hand. Billy groaned into the kiss, rocking his hips to thrust up into Steve’s grip. They continued to explore each others’ mouths, and Billy continued to buck his hips, his movements becoming faster as he chased his pleasure. Steve pulled away from Billy’s lips to capture his earlobe between his teeth, and that sent Billy over the edge. He came with a moan, spilling all over Steve’s hand. Steve stroked him through the aftershocks, finally stopping when Billy batted his hand away, as he was getting oversensitive.

By that time, they’d missed lunch, but neither wanted to get up, so they replenished themselves with waters from their mini fridge, and a couple of the protein bars that Billy kept under his bed. After an hour so of laying side by side, holding hands and talking, Steve turned on his side and looked at Billy. “So, I remember you saying something earlier about the ride of my life. You want to make good on that, baby?”

Billy grinned, pleased to hear that Steve hadn’t changed his mind about fucking him. “Of course, princess. There’s nothing I could want more right now than your monster dick inside me. You’re going to have to prep me real good though. Think you can do that?” Steve nodded eagerly.

Billy grabbed the lube from his bedside table drawer, drizzling some on Steve’s finger, then his own hole. He shivered at the rush of chill. “Ok, babe. Start with two. I can take it.” Steve pressed against Billy’s hole, until his fingers breached his puckered rim. He slid them in, before slipping them almost all the way out again, repeating the motion until Billy was begging for more. “Please, give me another, princess. Please. I need it.”

Steve slid his fingers out, drizzling more lube on them, before slipping three back in, stretching him now. He curved them, searching for Billy’s spot. He knew he’d found it when Billy made an almost inhuman noise, arching up off the bed. “Shit, princess. That felt amazing.” Steve looked at him in awe, seemingly addicted to drawing more sounds from Billy. He was driving his fingers in, hitting that spot again and again, driving Billy mad. “Ok, babe. You’re gonna have to stop. If you keep going like that, I’m going to come just from that. And I want to come with you inside me.” Steve withdrew his fingers, clearly agreeing with the plan.

Billy rolled over and grabbed a condom from the drawer, handing it to Steve, who rolled it onto his dick, sighing at even his own hand touching his painfully hard dick. Billy laid him back, taking his place atop Steve’s hips. He guided Steve into him, slowly sinking down until he was fully seated, taking a moment to revel in how full he felt. So fully of Steve. He leaned down to kiss the other boy before he started moving, sinking down and then drawing back, until his thighs were shaking, and he was covered in a sheen of sweat.

Billy was glad to see that Steve also seemed to be having the time of his life. He was babbling incoherently below Billy, holding onto his hips for dear life. “Fuck, Billy, you feel so good. So fucking good. I’ve wanted this for so long. Thought about it all the time, but I never knew. You’re so tight. I’m not going to last, babe. Gonna come.” Billy grinned at him, loving how fucked out he looked. “Come then, princess, come for me.” That’s all the encouragement Steve needed, filling Billy up with a deep groan. Billy rode him through it, loved watching him come apart, knowing that he’d done that to Steve. Billy had made him feel that good.

After Steve had slipped out of him, taking off the condom and disposing of it, Billy took himself in his hand, needing to come. Steve batted his hand away, kissing his way down Billy’s chest, following his happy trail down, nipping at his hips and thighs, before taking Billy into his mouth. It was sloppy, being Steve’s first blowjob, he kept scraping Billy with his teeth, and he kept gagging because he was trying to take too much of Billy into his mouth, but it was the best blowjob that Billy had ever received, because it was Steve. Steve who he’d wanted for so long. He could feel his pleasure rising and warned Steve just in time for him to pull off. He came on his own belly and got a bit on Steve’s face.

Steve licked his lips experimentally, making a face. Billy chuckled. “You’ll get used to it, pretty boy. I promise.” Steve eyed him suspiciously, wiping his face with a tissue, before handing a couple to Billy so he could clean off. Steve joined him on his pillow once they’d cleaned off. Billy pulled the blankets up over them, wishing they could stay cocooned together in their room forever.

Eventually, Steve’s phone rang. He looked at the clock. “Fuck, I was supposed to meet my friend Nancy to study in the library at 3.” Billy gave him a look. “Your ex-girlfriend from high school Nancy?” I think she can take a rain check. You’re mine for the rest of the day.” Steve buried his face in the crook of Billy’s neck, mumbling something. “What was that?” Billy said. Steve pulled his face away, so he could be heard. “I said I was kind of hoping I could be yours forever?” Billy smiled. “I think that could be arranged, baby. Will you be my boyfriend, pretty boy?” Steve took Billy’s hand in his own. “Yeah, boyfriends. I like the sound of that, baby.”

***

Six months later

Billy and Steve were playing truth or dare with their friends Robin and Heather in Robin’s dorm room, drinking beers that Billy had scored with his fake ID. Robin turned to Billy. “Truth or dare, blondie?” Billy picked truth, as earlier that night he’d picked dare, and had to run through the quad in only Robin’s bikini bottoms. “Do your worst, Buckley,” he said, not knowing that he’d immediately regret it.

She smiled devilishly. “Ok then, what’s the biggest mistake you’ve ever made?” Billy thought about making something up, because in the end, actually ended up being the best thing he’d ever done, not the biggest mistake, but he figured it was time to spill the beans. He turned to the other boy. “So, Steve, remember when I texted you that photo...” Steve managed to stay mad for about a minute, before he realized that Billy’s biggest mistake was the greatest thing that had ever happened. “Billy baby, you’re an idiot. A beautiful idiot.” Steve’s beautiful idiot, and the love of his life.

[honeytae]

if you’re open for regular requests i’d love to request lil scenarios of the boys learning english alongside their english-speaking s/o! this is totally self-indulgent i’m doing the TEFL program and i’m going to south korea next year to teach :)

first of all, that’s amazing omg!! congratulations my love, i hope you have the best time over there and please don’t be shy in sharing your stories with us!!! i tried to stick to the boys actually learning english with their s/o but i strayed from that with a few members just bc i ran out of ideas lol but i hope you still enjoy!

fair warning....i’ve never ~seriously~ tried to learn korean, so i’m not entirely certain of the parallels between korean and english. i just hope these are wholesome enough to override that lmao

namjoon:

“You know,” Namjoon looked up from his phone, “I understand expanding your vocabulary, but why are there so many weird slang words?”

“Kids these days?” You shrugged, the man chuckling in response before flipping his phone around to show you what had puzzled him.

“If something slaps, that’s...good?” He wondered, watching as you suppressed a smile at the tweet he was showing you.

You could tell by the profile picture that the user was an ARMY, one of the many fan profiles on the platform, and the tweet was written completely in English.

Although there was a ‘Translate to Korean’ option readily available with just a tap of his thumb, you knew Namjoon never missed an opportunity to challenge himself to be able to fully comprehend what a native English speaker was trying to say.

You nearly snorted at the tweet’s content, smiling as you read it out loud.

“The Dis-ease bridge just saved my life. Seriously, this song slaps.”

Glancing at Namjoon, he raised his eyebrows, eagerly waiting for you to translate and explain what that could equate to in Korean.

“It’s definitely a good thing, Joon. They love it.”

At your interpretation, Namjoon grinned, nodding to himself as he pulled his phone back in front of his face to scroll through more reaction tweets to the new album release.

seokjin:

“What the hell is that?”

You picked your head up from your sketchbook when you heard Seokjin whine from beside you, eyebrows knitting together at his distressed tone. Taking a glance over at his laptop screen, you found his mouse bouncing from letter to letter on one of his weekly english lessons.

“What is that, like 15 letters? How do you even use that in a sentence?” He went on, obviously flustered by the word on the screen.

Pulchritudinous.

You placed your hand over his to stop his panicked counting of the letters, causing him to look over at you with a sigh as he frowned.

You nearly giggled at his reaction, but the genuine fear in his eyes made you stifle it as you soothingly held his hands in yours. 

“It’s just an over complicated way of saying beautiful. I don’t know why they’re teaching you that, nobody ever uses it.” You assured him, his eyes going down in size a bit at your words before he nodded.

Watching as a smirk tilted his lips, you raised your brows at the sudden expression.

“What?”

“Well like, I could say I’m...that?” He said, eyebrows raised cockily as he gestured to the long word stretched across the screen.

“Well it’s actually not used like,” you paused, giving in with a shrug as you grinned back at him.

“Sure, love.”

yoongi:

“Why did I skip English class all the time?” Yoongi sighed, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers as he plucked at the skin in frustration.

“Because you were trying to be a rebel.” You answered without looking up from your phone, the man obviously not liking your answer as he reached over to where you were laying beside him to pinch at your hip.

Yelping, you scooted across the mattress to get away from his hand, whining his name with a scoff before looking over at his notepad.

“What are you doing, anyway?” You asked, leaning on your palm as you scanned the rows of scribbled English letters written on the page.

“I’m trying to get better at writing.” He admitted shyly, a small grin on his face to match the fond one on your own. 

“Aw,” you pouted, Yoongi raising his eyebrows at your tone, “but I like your chicken scratch.”

“You’re such a brat.” He chuckled, adjusting the velcro on his brace with a grunt.

Since Yoongi’s shoulder surgery took away obvious straining activities like dancing and performing, he’d turned to studying English from the comfort of your bed during his recovery as one of the only safe activities he could partake in for a while.

It was now one of his favorite past times, learning new words and phrases he could potentially use in the future. It worked for you both because it took his mind off the pain and kept him motivated, and since you could speak both his and your language, you could help him out whenever he got stuck on something.

Usually he did lessons verbally on his phone, but it seemed today he had taken the old fashioned route.

“Your handwriting really isn’t bad, Yoongs.” You observed, the carefully placed tails at the end of each ‘a’ making you smile out of fondness for the man.

“My man has the prettiest handwriting.” You cooed, pushing a strand of his stark black hair out of his eyes as he blushed down at his notebook.

“Stop that.”

hoseok:

“Hey, babe?” Hoseok called for you, listening to your footsteps growing closer before you popped your head into the kitchen doorway.

“Yeah?”

“I’m having a little trouble.” He gestured to his open laptop on the counter, you recognizing it as an assignment from his English course.

“What happened?”

“Pronouns. Pronouns happened.” He pouted, his disdain for the new chapter quite obvious as he stared down his computer screen.

“What about them?” You asked, stepping closer to the man sitting at the kitchen island and placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“I need to make ten sentences using proper pronouns and I feel like I’m doing it all wrong.” He explained, causing you to hum as you looked over his sentences.

“These look great, Hobi.” You smiled as you glanced over the first three he’d written, flawlessly executed on the document.

“Can you help me with the next one?” He wondered, you nodding your head as you took a seat on the stool next to his.

“What do you want the next one to say?” You asked, watching as he glanced off to the side in thought, slightly squinting his eyes at the tile floor beneath the sink.

“My house is next to,” He spoke in English, pausing as he searched his brain for what pronoun to put next.

“Theys?” He answered as more of a question, then shaking his head as he switched back to Korean, “wait, no.” He sighed, placing his chin in his hand in thought before glancing over to you.

“I know it’s wrong, I just don’t know what the right answer is instead.” He explained, you shooting him a loving smile as you pushed the dark raven hair off his forehead and pressed a kiss to the newly revealed skin.

“I’ll help you, Sunshine. No worries.”

jimin:

Flopping onto the bed, you let your tired body fall on top of Jimin’s hoodie clad chest, his arm encircling your body as he mumbled a soft greeting to you.

“Hm, what are you learning about today?” You nuzzled into his chest, peering at his phone propped up on his thigh.

“Animals. Birds, mostly.” He answered, briefly turning from the screen to press a kiss to your head before focusing back on the row of English words matched with pictures of popular birds glowing from the device.

The first was a robin, the next a blue jay, and then a dove.

You listened as the virtual instructor prompted Jimin to repeat after her, spelling out the letters before stating the whole word. You smiled as your boyfriend followed instruction, pronouncing the words the best he could after the microphone chimed for him to do so.

“D-o-v-e. Dove.”

“Dove.” He repeated, smiling to himself as the app announced he got the point with a little heart.

“That’s cute.” He went back to his native language, you humming in confusion as you lifted your head up off his chest to look at him.

“The heart?” You asked, reaching up to twist a stray strand of hair out of his eye as he shook his head.

“Dove.” He said again, making you tilt your head, not knowing what he meant.

“It sounds like ‘love.’” He connected the two English words, you smiling fondly at him in response before scooting up the bed to kiss the tip of his button nose.

“You’re so cute.”

taehyung:

Three knocks at the door announced someone’s arrival to your bedroom, causing your head to lift from the novel you’d been so immersed in. Taehyung was home, but you’d wanted to give him space because you knew he needed to work on lyrics for his mixtape in order to submit them on time. 

“Hey,” he poked his head in with a small smile, “can you help me with something?” He asked sheepishly, stepping further into the room when you nodded.

“Of course. What is it?” You set your book down, marking your place before closing it to pay full attention to your boyfriend.

“Well, I’m trying to write this verse in English and,” he trailed off with a shrug, “you know.” He finished, you nodding in response with a gesture for him to come sit next to you.

He eagerly walked over to you with his notebook in hand, lowering himself to the mattress before rolling his way over to where you were leaning against the headboard.

Honestly, Taehyung’s English wasn’t bad at all. He was insecure about it, but you’d never really understood what the reason for that feeling was. His vocabulary was more than decent, his comprehension was good, and his pronunciation was great for having such a thick accent.

But there were many times where Taehyung came to you for guidance, as you were a native English speaker yourself.

And so, as he rested his head on your shoulder confiding in you about everything he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it, you patiently took him through what would work and rhyme best, smiling as he hummed the melody to himself to see if the phrases would work in his creation.

jungkook:

“Baby, can you read it to me again before we go on? Just one more time.”

You glanced over at your boyfriend in his makeup chair, several employees bustling around the man as they attempted to get him ready to go on stage while they had him seated.

With his arm extended backward to where you stood behind his leather chair, he offered his phone to you while shooting you a grin through the reflection in the mirror.

Taking the device from his hand, you opened it to the notes app where he’d written what he wanted to say in his statement on stage in just a few minutes.

You were in London tonight, which meant that all of the boys had been rehearsing their English so that they could communicate easier with their audience.

Jungkook, ever the over-achiever, was determined to do the toughest English tongue twister he could possibly find. Not only that, but in a British accent for his British ARMY’s.

“Betty bought a bit of better butter to make her bitter butter better.” You read from the phone, barely able to read the sentence yourself before you glanced up at Jungkook through the mirror again.

You watched your boyfriend nod as his brain took in the words you’d just said, taking a deep inhale before he began speaking the phrase back to you.

You gawked as the man effortlessly repeated after you, a few of the makeup artists stopping as well as Jungkook raised his eyebrows back at you.

“Was that okay?”

[tobi-momo]

You Belong With Me

PAIRING: Tsukishima Kei x Reader GENRE: Romance | Fluff | Angst (?) | Comfort (?) | Mutual Pining | Slowburn | Confession WARNINGS: tsukki has a toxic gf | cursing | ooc? | implied infidelity (not you or kei) | prolly more sry WORD COUNT: 2k A/N: this fic is HEAVILY based off of You Belong With Me by Taylor Swift- if you've seen the music video this is like it but my way 😌 uhh i hope you like it <3 oh also pls don't cringe it'll hurt my feelings

“What was she so mad about?” Your voice bleeds through his phone as he scribbles on his homework with his number two pencil, sighing at your question. He looks up briefly to his window to see you at your desk across your two properties’ filing the papers for your math class, organizing your work. Your phone is sandwiched between your shoulder and your ear, your eyes narrowed as you focus on what assignments are what.

“Kei?”

He shakes his head as his mind snaps out of the daze, his golden eyes flicking down to his work. “Uh,” he sighs as he re-grips his pencil, “I teased her a little bit and she got mad,” he finished. You chuckled before covering your mouth with your hand, finally looking up at the man through your clear panes.

“You’re kidding,” you giggle, a smile leading onto Kei’s face while he listens to your voice, although refusing to look up at your face, he shakes his head in a joking dismissal.

“No, I’m not. But we are never mentioning it again.”

“Oh, good luck getting me to keep quiet!” You shout as your back straightens against your desk chair, a smug look playing on your face once the blond male looks up at you.

He stands up, a reciprocating smirk laying on his lips before he says, “You will,” before he takes his phone away from his ear, pressing the “hang up” button and raising his arm to close the drapes. You laugh with satisfaction while you exit his contact, turning on some music and tossing your phone on your bed before cleaning up your area and strumming your fingers like an imaginary guitar.

He opened his curtains expecting to see you sulking while doing your work, only to see you dance like an idiot while you blast your music, your pencils acting as a microphone as you perform your concert in front of your stuffed animals. He could hear the music from across the yard, him identifying it as your shared playlist that you two made a couple years back, the duration over fifteen hours as about three-hundred songs reside. An accidental chuckle escaped him as his eyes rested on your jumping figure for just a couple seconds. It was for entertainment. Yeah. That’s it.

~.~.~.~

Sticking your fabric marker on the construction paper, you write out your message to Kei.

“I love you”. It was a message that would tell him that he deserves the best and nothing less. It was something that you treasured and wanted to share that value with him. Something that told him that he belonged with you.

You hoped that one day you’d be able to give it to him, to tell him how you really feel, to show that you can do a better job than her, but you never got the chance. Carrying the folded slip in your pocket, ready to pull out, his phone rings. As you sit on the bench on the side of the road, you wonder how long it had been since you had seen him really smile. You had made him smile a lot before, even if he doesn’t smile a lot genuinely, there are some times where real happiness seeps through his facade. You like it when that happens, always have. You noticed how much his happiness had reduced over the course of these last few months, though.

He answers the phone very monotone, very uninterested. He sounded obligated while he spoke to his girlfriend, sighing sharply once he hung up.

“What was that about?”

“Just drama. Kind of sick of it at this point.” He sticks his phone in his pocket, looking over to your concerned expression. “It’s nothing to worry about,” he says while rolling his eyes, placing a soft hand on your head and letting it rest. His hand retracted quickly when the sound of his name rings through his ears, his head whipping towards his girlfriend's figure. He readjusts his glasses, sitting straight up and swinging the strap of his school bag over his shoulder before he gets up and sluggishly walks across the street, meeting up with the one he was set to have a date with later. He subtly waved to you prior to turning his head away and continuing his stroll with his date hanging on his arm. You ignore the glare served your way when you wave back to him, forgetting the multiple reasons of why you wanted him away from her so he can enjoy his date. Hopefully.

~.~.~.~

As you stand on the bleachers of Kei’s game, you watch him stride over the court and jump to block the ball, a playful smirk residing on his lips as he sends the ball to the other side. You clap for him, shouting praises his way in hopes he might hear you over everyone else. Especially her. The screaming and unnecessary noise making your ears bleed a bit. You didn’t mean to be irritated by it, but the pulse on your forehead and the grit of your teeth made it painfully obvious you didn’t really like her.

When the end of the game hit, you were overloaded with joy at Kei’s victory. You hurriedly make your way over to him before gripping him tightly in a hug, not caring about the sweat that drips off his body. You could feel his arms flex as he raised his arms to hesitantly reciprocate your actions until his arms completely dropped, his body stiff.

“What the hell?” He muttered under his breath as he firmly moved you aside to walk away. Following after him, you let your head peek out from the side of his back, watching it all occur in front of you. “What’s this?”

“What? Nothing, Kei,” she mewls, setting her hands on her boyfriend’s shirt as if she thought he was silly.

“Yeah, we were just, uh, talkin’.” The man before her fibs.

“Not according to what I just saw,” Kei accuses the two with a furrowed brow, fed up. You come out from behind him, glaring at his girlfriend in hate. This was it.

“Don’t worry about it, man,” the man dismisses, turning to keep the conversation with her going.

Stepping forward, you place an arm in front of Kei, stopping his movements as you eye his girlfriend. “Tell me you were not just flirting with this man and we’ll leave.”

“I wasn-”

“Don't,” you pause, taking a deep breath as you watch her take a step back, “don’t lie to me, or you will regret it,” you threaten, a sharp glint in your eye telling her that you are oh so serious about this. Behind you, Kei watches as you make his girlfriend stammer on her words, a subconscious smile leaking on his face.

She stomps away with anger, the man beside her moving away as well, scoffing.

~.~.~.~

He didn’t say much on the way home; you trailed behind him as he walked away in part anger and denial. You didn’t really know what to say. Should you go back and find the girl and beat some sense into her? Should you give some words of the wise to Kei? Would he even take it?

As you watch him slow down to match your pace, you grow confused. You were headed to your place, so why was he suddenly following? “Kei?” He hums in response, his head hanging low. “Would you like to stay at my place? I can make coffee and we can stay up shit-talking our least favorite people,” you giggle and softly bump into his side, a stifled chuckle escaping him.

“Whatever,” he mumbles with an obvious smile as he continues to walk with you. When you quietly shut the door and take your shoes off, you softly tread to the kitchen to turn on the coffee machine- the man that you took home followed, his arm planting on the marble counter as his eyes trail over your moving figure.

As you sit on the stool next to him beside your kitchen island, you converse about the drama he’s been scooped in, him rolling his eyes twice a minute and his irritation level going off the charts as he recalls the events. He hated it, you could tell. He made it pretty obvious he wasn’t happy about it, too.

“Are you still going to the dance with her tomorrow then?” You speak curiously, twirling your fingers around each other while staring blankly into the marble as you awkwardly sit there, awaiting an answer.

It takes him a second to respond, a long sigh and a deep thought coming into play in his mind once he looks over to your spaced expression. Does he really want to go? Did he want to go with her, or with someone else- you? “Probably.”

Oh. “Are you sure you wanna do that? After what happened today?”

“Why not. Nothing better to do,” he justifies, shrugging. Yeah, you probably should have seen that coming.

The note that resided in your pocket seemed to crumple a little bit when you came to terms with the fact that he may never notice you the way you wanted him to.

~.~.~.~

“Are you going?” Kei asks over his phone as he takes his suit out of his closet.

“Ah, no,” you breathe out as guilt pools in your stomach, your elbow balancing sitting on your desk while dozing off into something that is not mathematical equations.

“Oh,” is all he says before telling you he needed to get ready, giving his goodbye.

After the call ends, you see the light fading away from his room as he closes the drapes, giving you a sign to start working again. You wondered what would happen if you possibly showed up. You originally were going to go, but the date that canceled soon beforehand gave your mind a gentle squeeze, telling you that the dance wasn’t for you. Still, the tiniest urge told you to make an appearance. You groan in waver, giving in.

~.~.~.~

You felt good. You felt really good. Wearing your planned outfit to this dance, you make your way inside carefully, minding the crowd. You catch the eye of the one girl that you held a grudge against, watching her grope another man on the dance floor. You roll your eyes in disgust as you move your head around to find a tall blond in the crowd. He leaned against the wall across from you his arms crossed while his dilated pupils trace the light that bounces off the floor.

“Hey,” you greet him, his attention whipping to you as he raises his head.

“Hi,” he reluctantly answers you while standing straight up, a relieved smirk leading onto his lips. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

“I didn’t want to put my outfit to waste,” you smile, spreading your arms to show your attire.

“Yeah, well you came at perfect timing,” he points towards his girlfriend which you identified earlier, although he seemed like he didn’t care all that much.

Gripping the folded paper in your pocket, you slip it out with two fingers confidently. “I have something to tell you,” you admit, your eyes staying centered on his black suit.

“Go on,” he eggs, hands staying at the side of his body while he watches you fluster yourself. It takes you less than a second to shove the note in his stomach and turn around, your face turning hotter and hotter every moment. Your hands lay against your cheeks as your nerves rattle beneath your skin, your ears tingling when you hear a sweet chuckle glide against his lips. “You should have told me a long time ago, Y/n. I wouldn’t have to deal with,” his eyebrows turn up as his head tips towards the dancing figure just a couple of feet away from you guys, “...that.”

You turn around slowly, disbelief covering your face when you look at his smug expression. “Are you kidding me? You’re telling me this,” you gesture at the both of you with your pointer finger, “could have been something a long time ago?”

He sucks in through his teeth, taking a grip on your arm and pulling you with him as he walks through the crowd to the middle of the room. “Yep. Guess you missed out.”

“Says you,” you roll your eyes with attitude as you pick up your pace and place your hand in his.

He knew he belonged with you, he was just wondering when you would admit that.

aaa here it is! three days of work! sry i havent been posting lately ive been working <3 (reupload bc tumblrs a little bitch)

REQUESTS: OPEN

reblogs are VERY appreciated!

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 3

A certain redheaded tabloid journalist tracks y/n down at work. Y/n finds out how persistent she is when she makes her an offer she just can’t refuse. 

Trigger warnings: Christianity, stalking, survivor’s guilt

You made it out alive, and that was more than could be said for some. 

Your consolation prize was a ghastly scar on your hand that you kept bandaged up as to not scare small children. You did get some worker’s comp after all; enough to pay for your medical bills and a little extra to make up for the lost workdays. All things considered, you were the lucky one. Four people lost their lives that day and three more were injured far worse than you. You should have felt grateful to be alive.

But somehow that was even worse. You got a couple stitches and some time off. It wasn’t worth four people’s lives. 

Your therapist explained it to you very gently. You were experiencing a phenomenon known as "survivor's guilt". She encouraged you to join a support group, get outside and familiarize yourself with your new experiences. 

This was good advice and all, but yours was the newest, hottest crime. You couldn't go anywhere without being hounded by reporters looking for whatever details you had somehow left out. Dr. Bloom encouraged you to take some time off work until the media circus died down, but you had bills to pay.

"I feel like there should be some rule about re-opening a restaurant within a week of it being an active crime scene." Charissa observed as she wiped down a table. "If anything, it's a health hazard."

"Are you serious?" You scoffed. You'd been tasked with refilling the salt shakers. Appropriate, because there was plenty of salt to go around. "Demand for this place has never been higher. Everyone wants to see if the blood is still on the carpet."

"Hooray for capitalism." She rolled her eyes. "Are you gonna be okay, [F/N]?"

"'Okay' is a very relative term." You forced a laugh. "I think I can make it through the shift if that's what you're asking."

"Aren't you behind the bar all evening?" She asked.

"Yeah, but that means I'm trapped." You folded your arms. "First thing you see when you walk in is the waitress who survived the- what are they calling him?"

"The Baltimore Butcher." She answered with a voice full of vitriol. "Do you think they ever consider the ramifications of giving literal murderers these weird superhero names? Like, no wonder we get copycats, they treat these guys like celebrities."

"Holy shit, right?!" You slammed the salt shaker down on the table. "Y'know, last night on the news, they used the creep's graduation photo and kept saying that he was a good Christian young man with a lot of prospects."

Charissa stuck out her tongue in disgust. "I saw that. And how he was 'corrupted' by crack cocaine. Once again, blaming a drug that was used to villainize poor Black neighborhoods in the 80's as some kind of corrupting agent."

You nodded furiously. "Instead of understanding that Christianity is a violent imperialist religion that lets violent white men absolve themselves of any guilt."

"And they knew it wasn't crack." Charissa added. "I heard that shit was completely uncut. You know he spent a lot on it."

"And I will say this until the day I am put in the goddamn ground," you tensed up. "The only reason the fucker escaped is because he is white."

"Hey y'all." Another waitress walked in for her shift. "What are we talking about?"

"Cocaine." Charissa answered. “Also white privilege.” 

"Great." She said dismissively. "Hey [F/N], can I scoop up that bar shift? I could really use the tips."

"Madison!" Charissa scolded. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"What?" Madison shrugged and glanced at you. "I didn't get any paid time off. I need the money."

"Was that supposed to be a joke?" Charissa scowled. "Are you seriously joking about her trauma?!"

"It's fine, she can have it." You rolled your eyes, then turned them to Madison. "Just know you're the reason I have survivor's guilt."

"Well now I feel bad." Madison frowned.

"Good." You and Charissa said in unison.

It was sort of comforting to get back to the script. Almost nostalgic. It provided the illusion of normalcy in an incredibly abnormal new reality. 

You approached the first table in Madison’s block, hoping for a new beginning. A young woman with fiery red hair sat alone by the window. 

“Hi!” You greeted, with a smile as genuine as you could muster. “My name is [F/N], I’ll be your waiter tonight.” 

The woman smiled back. “Evening.” 

You couldn’t tell what, but something was off. Perhaps you were trying too hard to force normalcy. Or maybe it was the borderline predatory way the woman was looking at you; like a shark following a trail of blood. Either way, the vibes were rancid. 

“Can I start you off with a drink or is water okay?” You ask. 

“Could I possibly trouble you for a glass of chardonnay?” She asked, lowering her eyebrows. 

“Of course.” You nodded and reached for your pen. 

“Actually,” She corrected herself. “If you could bring a bottle and two glasses, I’m expecting company.” 

“Absolutely.” You scribble the order down on your notepad. “Do you have a preference?” 

She thought for a moment. “Oh, dealer’s choice. Whatever you prefer.” 

You soon returned to her booth with a bottle of your favorite chardonnay and two stemmed glasses. You poured a small bit in one glass to let her taste. 

“You have wonderful tastes.” She complimented, filling her glass. “It’s very delicious.” 

You rocked on your heels. “Would you like to place your order now, or do you want to wait until after your guest arrives?” 

“Actually,” she repeated, filling the other glass. “My guest is already here.” 

She slid the glass across the table and gestured to the other seat. 

You felt stupid, but there was no way to avoid this. You couldn't just not do your job. She cornered you by the confinements of your profession.

"I really can't, I'm on the clock." You said, apologetically. The wine beckoned you. "I'm sorry, maybe another time."

"Oh, bummer." The woman placed her chin in her hand and pouted. "Well, I'm sure there's something that would make your boss look the other way."

She glanced down at your bandaged hand, then met your eyes. "The bandages are a dead giveaway, [F/N] [L/N]."

You then noticed a wire sticking from her pocket. Undoubtedly some kind of recording device. You looked at the ground. "I'm afraid I have to ask you to leave."

"But who will drink all this wine?" She asked, raising her glass.

"Ma'am." Your voice hardened as you tried to bite back an overwhelming rage. "Please leave the restaurant. I'm not going to ask you again."

Your manager, Matthew, passed by. "What's going on here?"

"This waitress is being very rude." The woman complained. "I ordered chardonnay, and she brought me chablis."

"Chablis is a type of chardonnay." You corrected. Even you found it strange that this was the hill you were willing to die on. "She asked for my preference, and I prefer the unoaked varieties."

Matthew looked confused. "Well, she's right."

You gestured to her pocket and he caught on immediately. He narrowed his eyes. "Ma'am, please leave the premises or I'll be forced to call the police."

The woman stood up, rummaged through her pockets and slapped a handful of bills down on the table. She then proceeded to drink both glasses of wine and walk away.

Matthew looked at you apologetically as he collected the bills. "Are you sure you want to be here tonight? I can call in someone to cover for you."

You shook your head and grabbed the bottle by its neck. "No, it's okay. I appreciate the concern but I really just want things to go back to normal."

"Hey!" A woman from the adjacent table called out. You prepared to immediately recant your statement about not going home.

"We like chablis." The woman said, gesturing to herself and her friend.

Her friend joined in. "And if that nosy reporter lady isn't gonna drink it..."

You glanced at Matthew, who shrugged. "Sure. It's yours."

The women exchanged delighted looks as you placed the bottle on their table. Matthew handed you a couple of clean glasses and you began to pour.

"For this wine, I suggest any of our wonderful seafood dishes." You explained, your cheeks stinging with a smile. "It also pairs quite nicely with chicken and game bird."

"Thank you." One of the women said. "If you don't mind, we'd like to take a look at the menu, please."

"Of course." You nodded. "Just flag me down whenever you're ready."

"This is why I put you behind the bar, by the way." Matthew gently scolded you as you collected the soiled glasses.

"Didn't you hear?" You said. "Madison needs the money because we can't all have paid time off."

"You should have come to me first." He sighed. "She has no right to say those things to you."

"Never stopped her before." You shrugged.

"I'll talk with her after the dinner rush." He said. "Just... try not to get cornered tonight, okay?"

"I'll do my best." You answered, flatly. “Because that’s definitely something I can control.” 

The rest of your shift went smoothly, or, as smoothly as could be expected given the circumstances. The nosy reporter was right, your bandage was a dead giveaway. You had to dodge a couple of questions, but most people had enough decorum to know the wound--metaphorical and literal--was still fresh. 

You said goodbye to Matthew and Charissa, collected your things and walked out to your car. You put the key in the ignition, only to find your gas tank was completely empty. You had just filled it that morning. 

You bit back a scream and fought the urge to slam your head against the steering wheel. Throwing the door open, you mentally prepared yourself to either make a long trek to the nearest gas station, or beat someone up.

“Looking for this?” A smug voice said over the cicadas. 

You turned around and saw the nosy reporter from before holding up a canister. A deep, blistering fury overtook your face as you slammed the car door. “You siphoned my fucking gas?” 

 “It’s not like you left me with much choice, [F/N].” She crossed her arms. “You’ll get it back once you answer my questions.” 

You threw your head back in disbelief. “You’re Freddie Lounds, aren’t you?” 

“I see I’m not the only one who does my research.” She said, looking a bit impressed. “How’d you know?” 

“It’s the first thing that comes up when you search ‘unethical crime journalists Baltimore’.” You answered. “There’s a whole flair dedicated to you on the subreddit for murder survivors.” 

Freddie seemed proud of herself. “Need a ride?” 

“I’d rather drive off a cliff.” You said, honestly, before turning around to leave. 

“Where are you going?” She walked after you. 

“To get more fucking gas, you evil bitch.” You shouted back. “Are you gonna follow me to the BP too?” 

“Look, I heard what you were saying to your friend.” She called out. “About white privilege.”

“Yeah,” You rolled your eyes. “It’s the same privilege that allows you to siphon a stranger’s gas and sit in a parking lot all night without getting arrested.”

“And I agree with you.” She hurried to your side, her chunky platform boots clacking against the asphalt. “They did you dirty and they’re shooting themselves in the foot by not listening to you.” 

You turned around and threw up your arms. “Why didn’t you just lead with that?”

“I invited you to sit down over a bottle of wine, did I not?” Freddie chuckled. 

“Cornering me at work is not a gesture of goodwill.” You huffed. “And I actually do want to put my story out there, but all you’re accomplishing by stalking me is guaranteeing you won’t be the one to do it.” 

“Are you really in a position to be that selective?” Freddie smirked and placed all her weight on one hip. 

You groaned. “What?” 

“The Baltimore Butcher is still out there, and you won’t be the hot new victim forever.” She grinned sadistically. “Soon enough, him or some other psycho is going to strike, and your fifteen minutes of fame are up.” 

“Good. Then I can go back to living my life.” You said. 

“But what if his next victim is a Christian?” Freddie grabbed your shoulder. “What if the next person who narrowly avoids getting their throat slashed decides to go on record and say that he doesn’t represent ‘real Christianity’?” 

You went quiet. You hadn’t considered it, but the thought of anyone downplaying his faith as a motivation made your blood boil. You looked into the man’s eyes and saw a person driven to kill for his god. A god he shared with the crusaders, conquistadors and slavers. 

“...but it does. Christians colonized half the planet for--” 

You stopped yourself when you saw Freddie’s smile. 

“You want to get on your soapbox, now’s your chance.” She bit her lip. “Take control of the conversation while you still can.” 

“Fine.” You spat. “I get off work tomorrow at four.” 

Freddie shoved the gas can into your hands. “I’ll see you then.” 

[outercrasis]

Sessions

Pairing: College!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: None (let me know if I missed something!)

Summary: Everyone is talking about the mysterious new guy on campus

A/N: I had a ton of fun writing this extremely self-indulgent AU and I have plans to keep writing more about these two. It won’t be an actual chaptered fic, but at some point I’ll throw together a masterlist with a chronological order to things.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Introductions

The semester had only started four weeks ago and he was already a legend around campus. Almost everywhere someone could be found whispering about him. You'd even heard faculty speculating, wondering about the rumors they overheard their students sharing.

You first heard of him in your literature seminar, some of your fellow classmates discussing a recent rumor about the now fabled man. Something about a motorcycle and a child caught your ear, prompting you to interrupt and the girls in front of you who they were talking about. 

The looks you received from the pair were incredulous at best. “You mean you haven’t heard about him?”

“Heard about who?” you asked, genuinely confused. It had only been the first week of class at the time and you were too caught up with your own busy start to check in on the rumor mill.

“Mando, obviously. He’s all anyone is talking about.” From there the girls had happily filled you in on all the latest sightings and rumors. 

Mando, as they called him, was shrouded in mystery. He'd popped up on Corellia University's campus when the semester began and no one knew a thing about him. He hadn't gone to Corellia before, internet searches turned up nothing, and even the skull-like symbol on the back of his leather jacket wasn't familiar to anyone. Any information on him was conjecture at best and there was plenty to go around. Once the rest of the class caught onto what you three were discussing, theories began to fly.

People discussed how he’d been spotted downtown, beating on some guys in a back alley. He’d also been seen uptown the same night though, strolling through Basalt Park. One girl was nearly certain that she’d gone to elementary school with Mando, but he’d mysteriously disappeared one day without explanation. Someone else was confident he was just a cop trying some weird shtick to go undercover. Then one person insisted he had a kid with him sometimes while another was trying to explain that he was actually a murderer. The rumors only became more ludicrous from there.

By the end of the discussion you only ascertained two things for certain. He went by the name Mando and he wore some kind of special helmet. Information you could have gotten by watching him pick up a drink at the Java Hut. Not nearly enough to warrant this level of fervor in your opinion.

From there, hearing about Mando was inescapable. You got home that night only to have your roommate and best friend, Layla, launch into theories about him. Within the week someone set up a social media page to try and track his location around campus via DMs fellow students sent in. That had struck you as invasive and unsettling, but the messages about him kept flooding in.

By pure chance, you had yet to actually see him for yourself. There weren't even any creep shots for you to look at. People had been trying to take photos of him, but he was like a ghost. In the time it took them to pull up their cameras he'd disappear. 

There wasn't even more concrete information about him beyond what you'd learned that first day. Just more and more speculation, a good amount of it made up purely for the shock factor. Another week slipped by, the semester picking up, and Mando news became standard in your day. There was always something new going around about him and as much as you tried to avoid it and focus on your studies, you couldn’t help but wonder about him yourself.

Who was this guy? Was this all some stunt or ‘social experiment’ that would be revealed by a sociology student at the end of the semester? Or was he a legitimate peculiarity, doomed to stick out like a sore thumb? You weren’t sure if you should hate him for making a big deal out of himself or pity him for all the unwarranted attention. Either way, you were sure that whenever you met this enigmatic Mando, you’d know.

×××××

You grumble looking at the submission form. The name and student ID information is blank again. You told Todd last week those fields needed to be made mandatory. How else were you supposed to know who to email when you end up with a no-show for the hour?

Looking further down you're pleased to note that they're at least a grad student. Despite the unfinished form, graduates almost never skip sessions like these. You're thrilled to have the opportunity to discuss something other than freshman composition for once. It's fun helping the wide-eyed freshies, but you can only go over basic comma rules so many times before you start to lose it a little.

There's a knock at the study room door and you look up only to be rendered speechless. It's him. Mando. With a kid on his hip. So Alissandra hadn’t been lying when she told you about the toddler she saw with him. Interesting. Continuing to take him in, you can’t help but focus on the obvious - the only thing you knew about him other than his supposed name, the helmet. 

It’s unlike anything you've seen before. You're fairly certain it's a motorcycle helmet, but it's been modified. Rather than the typical rounded shape, his is all sharp angles and flat at the front. It’s colored a sleek, shining chrome that gleams under the washed out fluorescent lighting. Most arresting is the way he's changed the face of the helmet. The cheeks dip inward at a sharp angle, creating deep, curved contours. His visor is a T of black glass in the center, entirely impossible to see through. It's intimidating and… kinda hot?

The little boy he's holding starts to wiggle in his grasp, physically demanding to be set down in the study room. Once his feet touch the floor, he immediately runs over and climbs into the chair next to you. He's a welcome distraction from his father’s? brother's? guardian's? commanding presence in the room.

The boy can't be older than three, smiling up at you with a wide toothy grin. His hair is covered by a green beanie with large floppy ears sewn onto it and he's wearing a little brown jacket with a sherpa collar. Maybe a bit too heavy for the early autumnal weather, but if the rumor that the kid rides on a motorcycle with Mando is true, it’s perfect. His eyes are large and brown, shining up at you with a slightly mischievous glint.

"Hello, what's your name?" you ask, smiling back at the child.

"Grogu," comes the reply, not from the kid, but from Mando.

You arch an eyebrow at him. He can't be serious with that name. "Grogu?" you ask.

He shrugs, placing his bag on the table. "I came home one day and he told his babysitter that was his name now. He won't respond to anything else. So, Grogu."

You look back to the bouncing toddler. He's still grinning, nodding along with what's been said about his name. They must not be lying then. Either that, or it was some elaborate prank between them and you would never be in on the joke. 

"Well okay, Grogu it is." 

You extend your hand out to Mando, offering your name alongside it. He offers a leather clad hand in return, giving you a firm handshake. You're pleased when he only gives your hand a gentle squeeze, not crushing it like so many other students have done. His gloves are unique as well, black with orange fingers, the leather well worn in. It's warm to the touch, his body heat radiating through the thick fabric. 

"Mando," he says, officially introducing himself as he takes the seat on your other side, across from Grogu.

"Mando," you repeat, cementing it as a truth from the rumor mill. "Got any other names?" You hope that comes across as casual and not intrusive. He hasn't even gone to remove his helmet, telling you he isn't a man who cares much for people prying into his business.

"No. Why?" Mando cocks his head slightly as he asks, the helmet adding an exaggerated look to the movement. He reaches into his bag, pulls out some crayons and a pad of paper, pushing them over to Grogu.

You shrug, trying not to think about how you heard his name might be David from someone in your composition course. "Just thought I'd ask. One hears many things around campus and it's hard to tell what's true or not."

"What do you mean?"

That question makes you pause. Surely he knows. Part of you is still convinced he’s doing this act on purpose, trying to gain notoriety for some reason. The way he asked though, something about it tells you that the poor man is clueless about the buzz he's caused.

"Mando, you're like the talk of the town right now. We only just met but I've heard plenty about you," you explain. It's hard to tell with the helmet on, but you're fairly sure he's shocked underneath. Grogu ignores you both, excitedly scribbling away on his paper.

"I'm fairly sure most of it's just rumor and speculation, but still. You're like a thing around campus," you add.

He's quiet for a moment, his laptop only half out of his bag. "Oh," he finally says. "I didn't know."

Grogu gives a happy shriek not a second later, breaking the awkward tension that had begun to creep into the room. He's beaming, holding up his crayola masterpiece. On the paper there is what appears to be a hastily drawn frog using every color in the box.

Mando returns to himself, pulling his laptop the rest of the way and continues to get set up. "Great job, kid. It looks good."

Most people would have said that dismissively, a platitude to get their child to stop bothering them. When Mando says it though, the authenticity is palpable. He said six words and you can hear the pride lacing them all together. It’s sweet, the obvious affection this clearly private man has for the toddler. 

You can’t help but wonder what his connection to Grogu actually is. The way he spoke just then, if you had to put your money on it, you’d say father. The kicker then though is if he’s biological or not. And if not, then how else does a grad student get strapped with a three year old? Thinking about all the potential scenarios is enough to make your head hurt.

You’re also left wondering where all the more violent rumors about him are coming from. His tenderness is so readily on display that it’s hard to imagine the man before you choking someone because they cut him in line at the local froyo shop. He’s mysterious and gives off a vaguely dangerous vibe, sure, but less than five minutes around him and the kid and it’s obvious he’s no threat to you. He’s just a guy trying to get his assignments done for class, same as everyone else.

Your stomach still catches in your throat as Mando starts unexpectedly tugging off his gloves. From what you’d heard, he never takes anything off: not his jacket, not his gloves, and certainly not his helmet. All anyone knows of his true appearance on campus is that he’s obviously male with rumors flying around about everything else including simple attributes, like the color of his skin. Now, here he is, casually revealing this groundbreaking information to you.

His hands move fluidly, pulling off each glove in just a few easy tugs. His skin matches the heat you felt from them just minutes ago, a warm golden tan, with a few faded lines of scars worn in. Watching him type, pulling his paper up for you to discuss, you feel a deep and sudden ache to have his hands touch you again. A simple handshake is no longer enough. Every stroke of the keys is measured, deliberate, and leaves you wondering how he would use those fingers on you.

“This is what I have so far.”

His voice snaps you back to reality, a quick wave of shame washing over you. Where did all of that come from? It was just a man’s hands for heaven’s sake, certainly not something you should be horny about at two in the afternoon. Not to mention that he came in here looking for your help, not wanting you to start fantasizing about his hands expertly working you over.

You clear your throat and tear your eyes away from the offending appendages. “Great, let me just read the introduction here so I can get an idea for what you’re writing about.”

You settle into working with him easily. His paper is already well-written, just needing tweaks here and there to bring it to the next level. It’s nice working with him. He’s attentive, clearly listening to everything you have to say and taking it into account. He doesn’t even try to challenge you as some of the more macho male students are wont to do. By the end of the session, you can’t help but wish all of your time as a tutor was that easy.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely, tucking his laptop away. “You really helped.”

You smile at him, thrilled with his genuine complement. “Of course, that’s what I’m here for.”

He finishes packing up his and Grogu’s things, with you silently lamenting as his gloves slide back on. It still feels like a ridiculous thought, but he really does have beautiful hands. There’s a small tap on your arm and you look to your left to see Grogu patiently waiting. He’s offering something to you, paper outstretched in his little hands.

“Thank you,” you say, taking the sheet from him. You look at it to see a frog carefully drawn on the page. It’s not the same as the first one he showed you and Mando, this one more deliberate and thoughtful. The colors are still just as varied, but it’s obvious he took more time to think about where he was using each one. You can’t help but smile at his small masterpiece.

“It looks great, buddy. I’ll keep it forever,” you tell him. Grogu beams at your praise, excitedly looking over to Mando. 

Mando nods at the kid. “Yeah kid, I heard her too.” He turns his head towards you. “Thank you again. I’d take good care of that drawing. He’ll never forgive you if he finds out you got rid of it.”

“Does that mean I’ll be seeing you again?” Your own boldness takes you by surprise. You have no idea where that came from, how those words spilled without a second thought. Part of you is already cringing at Mando’s potential reaction.

He surprises you once again though, holding a hand out for Grogu to take. Shouldering his backpack, you hear an amused huff of air from under the helmet. “Yeah, mesh’la, I’ll see you around.”

There isn’t a chance to reply as Mando turns, escorting his tiny charge out of the room with him. You’re a little dumbstruck, now equally surprised with him as you had been with yourself. 

And what was that name he just called you? Mesh’la? You don’t even know what language that could have been, much less the meaning. Something about his tone when he said it tells you it’s a good thing though, that he’s not secretly calling you rude names in some unknown language. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever get to find out.

.

.

.

taglist: @honestly-shite

[xamassed]

⟬ @constellaris​ ⟭

There was a warm,  gentle smile on the demoness'  face as she simply watched over him for a while,  simply admiring Mammon as he finished up his work.  No doubt he was tired  -  she could see it in the way his eyelids drooped  -  but he  had  finished everything he'd been tasked with that day ...  

Carefully she pried he pen from his grasp,  setting it aside along with the finished work before softly tipped his head to look up at her,  a kiss pressed to the avatar of Greed's lips before she spoke.

" Come on you .  Time to get some rest . "  Nethalia hummed. " I have a little surprise anyway ~ "

He felt her eyes on him, but they didn’t burn holes into the side of his head the way the eyes of his brothers did. Hers, in all their bright and shimmering light, encouraged him. Her gaze wasn’t condescending and pitying, like she had found a poor, broken bird on the side of the road. She looked at him like she saw potential, like she saw someone she could genuinely be proud of if he tried hard enough — and for her, he did.

No amount of motivation could dispel mental exhaustion, sadly. Try as he might, and despite her efforts to help him learn, he still found himself drained after a few dozen worksheets. He pushed himself, reminded himself that she was bound to have something in store for him if he finished his work. Rewards worked, and he had become conditioned to reach the end if it meant even the smallest reward: a kiss, a drag of her fingers through his hair or the promise of another date.

“Wait, I gotta——!” He had forgotten to scribble his name down, but the pen was gone. Too late. Didn’t matter much to him, anyway, after the kiss she spoiled him with wiped away every thought concerning schoolwork. Already heavy lids fluttered downward, hiding the flash of gold in his eyes that came with her affection. His own lips pressed harder to hers, while the fingers on one hand reached out to grasp at the side of her shirt. Come closer. Even an inch was too far away for him.

She pulled away too soon, the slightest whine leaving the Avatar’s lips. A single kiss wouldn’t satisfy him, but he was willing to wait for more so long as it meant her sticking around a little while longer.

“A surprise?” He didn’t fully snap out of his love-struck daze, but he did open his eyes and push himself away from the desk. “What kind of surprise?” Praise. Money. More affection. Anything from her was a gift, and he desperately needed it before the urge to sleep overtook him.

[biggest-stupidhead]

Never Ready (part 2) 

Summary: “It’s not like I’m ready to take her in.”

“And I was ready for you? Kid, nobody is ever ready for things like this. That doesn’t mean they don’t happen.” Levi is faced with the difficult decision of taking in his newly orphaned cousin. But he can't do it alone.You're a newly graduated college student looking to make some extra cash, but get more than you originally bargained for...

Word Count: 4.6K

AN: Sorry for the long wait, I've been very busy this summer but I'm trying to keep writing! Thanks for sticking around you guys :)

find part 1 here

--

Levi woke up early, as usual, however, he skipped his usual workout in favor of deep cleaning the house for the third time this week. Just as he was putting his broom back into the closet when the doorbell rang. He anxiously smoothed out his cotton dress shirt, tugging at the seam as he tried to tuck it into his pants.

“Hello-” His shoulders slumped when he found a young suburban housewife on the other side of the door instead of the gloomy social worker.

“Oh hi there! So sorry that it’s taken me so long but…” She held out a bottle of red wine with a neat ribbon tied around the neck.

“You didn’t have to,” Levi answered tensely as she beamed politely at him.

“I know but...it just felt like the right thing to do.” She shrugged, her strawberry blonde hair swaying, the strands just barely touched her shoulders.

“Well...thank you.” He thanked her, hoping that she would take the hint that this was a bad thing.

“No worries! By the way, my name is Petra, my husband and I live across the street.” She gabbed her thumb towards the house across from his.

“I’m Levi, nice to meet you.” He said, fighting to keep from grinding his teeth. It wasn’t that this woman was in the wrong, no it was simply the timing of her gesture. He was already on edge and he was never a fan of new people.

“Nice to meet you too! If you’re ever interested, we have a book club and-”

“Look, I appreciate the gesture but this isn’t the best time.” Levi cut her off and he felt a small pang of guilt at the way her expression dropped.

“Oh no of course! Anyway, you know where to find me.” She chuckled anxiously as she began her hasty retreat. It couldn’t have been soon enough, because a silver honda accord pulled into his driveway. Levi swallowed thickly as he watched Michelle climb out of her car and brave the icy sidewalk.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything.” She said curtly as she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and waited for Levi to step aside. When she crossed the threshold, he shut and locked the door behind her. She immediately began checking out the front room and the living room. The house had a nice open floorplan, so the first thing that anyone saw when entering was the living room and kitchen.

“Not at all,” Levi responded as she slowly wandered into the kitchen. He followed helplessly behind her as she began jotting notes down on a clipboard.

“Well, I must say that I am impressed with the hast you made these arrangements.” She complimented as she paced down the hallway, poking her head into the room that Levi had prepared for Mikasa.

“I don’t like to leave projects unfinished.” He responded as he waited in the doorway.

“Admirable.” She scribbled a quick note before finding her way back into the kitchen. Levi chewed the inside of his cheek as he waited with bated breath for her next words.

“Everything seems in great condition here. I don’t see any reason that she can’t move in by Monday.” She placed her clipboard on the counter and faced him with a tense smile.

“Monday?” Levi couldn’t hide the nerves in his tone and she smiled genuinely.

“Of course, we try to keep kids out of the homes as much as possible. Have you figured out what you wish to do for child care?” She moved seamlessly onto the next topic and Levi nodded, motioning for her to take a seat at the island.

“Uh, there’s a daycare that I was looking at. I’m also looking for a nanny.” Levi said as she settled into her seat and he sat a chair away from her.

“Excellent, my only concern with the daycare is that she has been attending the same one for some time now. It’s not far from here, I would highly encourage that you keep that the same.” She went back to her clipboard, jotting down some more notes as Levi contemplated what she had said.

“Makes sense.” He mumbled as she placed her pen down with a soft sigh.

“I got to say, I’m very grateful for your enthusiasm with this, makes my job a lot easier.” She smiled at him and Levi nodded curtly.

“Anyway, I’ll drop her off Monday morning, I believe that her current foster family uses the same daycare that she’s attending, Carla is the mom’s name. She’s made it clear that she is more than willing to lend a hand if ever needed.” Michelle jotted down a number on a scrap piece of paper and slid it across the counter to Levi who blinked stupidly down at her chicken scratch.

“That’s all I need from you.” Michelle stood and gathered her things, Levi trailed behind her to the front door and watched her leave. It was already Thursday, meaning he had less than five full days to finish preparing for Mikasa’s arrival. He felt like a tortured spirit in his own home, wandering the halls hallowly, he had never lived in such a large space. Not that his past homes had been small, but rather, he had always lived with someone.

Kenny and he had shared a small trailer all through his elementary years and well into his high school years. Then in college, he had roomed with Erwin and Mike, first in the dorms and then in shitty apartments. But now, he was alone. At least it was only for a few more days, but could you really count a four-year-old as company?

He found himself once again outside of the empty room, standing right on the threshold. The mere sight of the room made his stomach sink, from the subtle baby pink comforter to the dresser that was filled with tiny clothes. He turned and shut the door softly before marching back into the living room. The mid-afternoon sun was drifting in through the front windows and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

His phone rang obnoxiously and he scrambled to dig it out of his pocket. Hange’s contact lit up his screen and he inhaled sharply, preparing himself for whatever it was that Hange found important enough to share with him at one pm on a Thursday.

“Levi, is this a good time?” That was his first red flag, Hange was never considerate of his time when she called.

“It’s fine why?” He sighed as he began pacing the length of his living room.

“Well, I’ve got excellent news.” Hange couldn’t contain the excitement in her voice.

“What is it?” He encouraged her and she let out a muted squeal.

“I’ve found the perfect nanny for you! She just graduated last semester, I’ll send you her contact info.” Levi felt a small weight lift off of his chest, even though it wasn’t set in stone, at least he was making headway.

“She’s done this before, ever since she was a senior in high school actually. She told me over lunch that her usual employer doesn’t need her anymore so she’s on the hunt for a job!” Hange babbled on and Levi nodded along as he dropped onto the leather sofa.

“Got it thank you.” He confirmed as the ping of her sending the contact info came through his phone.

“Have her over for dinner, or maybe go out for tea. Ask her some questions and I’m sure you’ll find her more than qualified. She has no commitments so I bet if you can make her like you, then she’ll stick around for a while.” Hange chuckled deviously and Levi clicked his tongue.

“I have no idea what criteria I even have to look at to see if she’s qualified.” Levi scoffed and Hange snorted.

“Mikasa’s four years old, she has school and such, I mean as far as I’m concerned your nanny just needs to be able to drive and cook.” Hange shrugged as she flipped through her lesson planner.

“There’s got to be more than just that.” Levi bit the skin on his knuckle as he began wracking his brain for what makes a good nanny.

“Sure there is, I’m just brainstorming.” Hange chuckled and Levi rolled his eyes.

“I’ll make a list.” He concluded and Hange hummed her agreement.

“That’s a great idea, I mean in the end she’s going to be working for you so just put down qualities that you think make a good worker. Or something.” Hange seemed rather indifferent and Levi felt his jaw tick in annoyance.

“Right, well thanks.”

“No problem, catch ya later!” And with that, she hung up.

--

Levi stood outside of the coffee shop. He snuck one last glance at the shortlist that he had made. His brow creased when he read through it, the first point he had put down was: in-state driver’s license. Closely followed by good hygiene. Frustration bubbled into his chest as he wadded the paper up and shoved it deep into his pocket. He finally pushed through the door and approached the familiar counter. He ordered his usual and went to sit in one of the secluded booths in the back.

He had arrived a good ten minutes early, hoping to gather himself before meeting the nanny. As he watched the steam rise off of his cup of tea he savored the few moments of silence. That was until the bell on the door chimed. He knew it was you, Hange had described you in-depth when he had told her he reached out to you that evening she sent your contact.

Your hair was pulled back off of your face in a half up half down style. You wore a pair of fitted jeans and a knitted sweater. Levi watched you as you ordered your drink, you seemed so sure of yourself, the way your shoulders were pulled back and your jaw set in determination. Already off to a good start and he hadn’t even heard you speak. Levi watched you grab your drink before doing a half-turn, eyes scanning the small cafe. They landed on him and Levi knew he’d been caught staring. He did a small tilt of his head, inviting you to join him, you smiled warmly and took quick steps in his direction.

Levi stood and extended his hand to you, which you accepted with a firm handshake.

“You must be Mr. Ackerman.” Your voice was smooth and honeyed, immediately putting him at ease.

“Levi is fine.” He said as he sat back down in the booth. You slid down into the seat opposite of him, clutching your purse in your lap.

“I understand that you have some...experience.” Levi started a bit awkwardly. You nodded eagerly and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

“Of course, in the past, it’s mostly been under the table, but we can work around that of course.” Levi examined the typed-out document. A resume of your past jobs and a few recommendations from past employers.

“Under the table is fine…” He mumbled as he thumbed through the pages.

“So, Hange told me a bit about your...unique situation.” You pressed and Levi stilled in his motions.

“What’d she tell you?” He asked, grey eyes boring into you from over the tops of the papers.

“Just that you were a new parent and you needed a hand. Takes a village you know.” You chuckled a bit tensely and Levi felt some tension leave his shoulders. At least Hange had given him the liberty of explaining himself.

“She’s not wrong, I’ve taken custody of my distant cousin, I know nothing about child-rearing,” Levi admitted point blank and you weren’t sure if he was kidding or not. When his expression remained as cold as stone, you realized that he was in fact not.

“I see...I’ll admit that I don’t have much experience with...well stuff like this either.” You smiled at him in an attempt to diffuse the tension between the two of you. Levi’s eyes narrowed and he reclined back into the booth, eyes never leaving yours.

“We’ll just come up with it as we go.”

“So you’re set on me as your nanny?” You beamed and he scowled, although you were right. Levi knew from the moment he shook your hand that he would choose you.

“Yes, Mikasa arrives on Monday and I expect you to be there when she does.” Levi scoffed, lifting his teacup by the rim and taking a long sip.

“Be where exactly?” You were getting smart, something that simultaneously annoyed and intrigued him.

“My house, I’ll send you the address the day before,” Levi answered with a roll of his eyes.

“Sounds perfect.” You hummed, lifting your coffee cup to your own lips.

“What are my hours going to be?” You asked as you placed your cup back onto the tabletop.

“Mikasa goes to half days at preschool, so I’ll need you to drop her off and pick her up from that. She needs to be dropped off at eight am and picked up at noon.” Levi tapped his finger on the rim of his cup and you nodded.

“I can do that, so I’ll fix all three meals then?” You asked and Levi felt a tinge of guilt. He knew that he wasn’t completely prepared to be a parent, but he still felt ashamed for seeking help. Kenny had raised him to be independent. It had taken so much to reach out to Hange, and now he was relying on a strange young woman.

“Yes, that’s preferred. I don’t have any rules besides keeping the house spotless.” His finger was planted on the tabletop now to emphasize the importance of his only rule. You nodded in understanding.

“You can set the boundaries for Mikasa, I trust that you have enough experience in this area.” Levi continued and you tensed. Never had you ever had so much responsibility riding on a nanny position. Your employers set the rules and you enforced them, but now you were expected to be both parties. But when Levi slid a paper across the table your eyes widened. On the notepad was a range of wages that he was willing to pay. You struggled to contain your shock as you clutched the paper.

“T-This is way too much.” You squeaked as you pushed the paper back to Levi.

“Seems reasonable to me.” He shrugged and you felt your face flush.

“Well...it’s your money after all.” You reasoned as you grappled internally to regain your composure.

“But if at any time and for any reason you need to lower it that’s fine too.” You waved your hands in front of you and Levi’s brows pinched together.

“Don’t worry about it.” He assured you and set his empty cup aside.

“Was there anything else you wanted to cover?” You asked, sneaking a glance at your watch.

“That’s all from me, I’ll text you my address and get you set up to pick up and drop off with the school,” Levi said as he pulled his coat on over his shoulders. Your cup was still full so you remained seated as you watched him straighten the fabric of his jacket.

“Alright, see you Monday morning then.” You said as he marched towards the door, his posture rigid. As soon as he disappeared through the door, the doubt swirled in your chest. You had never worked this many hours and the added pressure of Mikasa coming from a traumatic past made you uneasier. But you weren’t one to shy away from a challenge, you pulled your phone out and began to dive headfirst into the internet. After about twenty minutes of scrolling through countless tabs and foster parent forums, you felt at least somewhat prepared.

You ended up ordering three more cups of coffee, by the time you were halfway through your third cup, your hands shook as you held your phone. The screen was beginning to put a strain on your eyes as you squinted at the black font. With a heavy sigh, you placed your phone screen down on the table and tossed your head back against the booth’s cushion. After a few deep breaths, you collected your things and made your way out into the chilly air, determined to continue gathering information and preparing yourself for the task at hand.

--

Levi did some research of his own that afternoon. Sitting in his desk chair, he clicked through tabs, a simple google search had shown him your Instagram. He had been relieved to find it public, your page seemed average, nothing too out of the ordinary. But he was disappointed to find it rather small, with not a lot of posts or followers. It seemed that you, like himself, were not too fond of posting every small movement that you made for the world to see. In fact, your most recent post was from almost a full year ago, right around spring break. The post was a compilation of photos you had taken on a biology trip that Hange had organized. He closed the tab and pulled up a new one, the official website for the daycare that Mikasa had been attending. He found the phone number and dialed it into his keypad on his phone. He needed to register you as one of Mikasa’s emergency contacts and as her primary source of transportation.

The process was easy and he was relieved to be able to check it off of his list so he could at least attempt and get some of his work done. He needed to savor these last few child-free days before Mikasa became a permanent and very prominent factor in his life.

__

As promised, Levi sent you a text with nothing but his address and the time he expected you there the next morning. Your sleep that night was fitful, tossing and turning well into the early hours. You only ended up sleeping a grand total of six hours before having to get up and get ready for your first day of work. You sifted through your closet in search of an appropriate outfit, as badly as you wanted to wear a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, you knew Levi would likely frown upon it.

So you ended up choosing a plush sweater and a pair of jeans. Pleased with your appearance, you then left your small apartment and made the twenty-minute drive out to the suburbs where Levi was located. The roads were icy the sky was dark with promises of more snow, by the time you had arrived a few fat flakes were already dwindling from the sky. You parked on the side of the road, careful to not block his mailbox, and trudged up the slick driveway and up to the front door. It only took one soft knock for him to pull the door open. He was as handsome as you remembered, his hair was damp from a shower and his hands were busy as he finished tying his tie. He stepped aside and walked back into his house as you kicked the snow off of your shoes.

The space was remarkably clean considering a single man occupied the space. Levi gestured vaguely with his head for you to follow him into the kitchen and you obliged. He pulled out a neon green piece of paper and handed it to you, Mikasa’s name was written in stark penmanship.

“That’s your tag to pick her up, don’t forget it.” He said as he shoved a set of keys into his back pocket.

“Is she here?” Your voice was hushed and your eyes strayed to the hallway which was dark.

“Not yet, the service worker should be here any minute now,” Levi said as he folded his collar down over his tie and finally turned to face you.

“Oh, alright. So what time are you usually off of work?” You asked, setting your purse on the island in the kitchen. Levi sighed and licked his lips thoughtfully.

“Depends...I normally stay late but technically my workday ends at 5:30 but I probably will be at least an hour later than that.” Levi said and you nodded along in understanding.

“That’s not a problem, do you have any idea of what time Mikasa goes to sleep at?” You asked, and judging by the way his shoulders tensed up, he did not.

“Not a clue, but I’ll ask the social worker.” He assured you and you nodded, allowing your eyes to scan over the kitchen. The marble countertops were so white and obviously well kept, you knew that they would give you grief, the oven and microwave looked fancy, as did the fridge. As Levi reached up for a cup from one of the deep navy cupboards, you noted that they were the kind that shut quietly. Your staring was interrupted by the shrill ring of the doorbell. Levi sat his cup aside and walked briskly back towards the front door.

“Good morning Mr. Ackerman, may we come in?” An unfamiliar voice could be heard, followed closely by the sound of two new sets of footsteps on the hardwood floors.

“Of course.” Levi’s voice was even lower and harder to make out as the newcomers shuffled in. They rounded the corner and your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest when your eyes landed on the small girl. She wore a white dress paired with a pink cardigan and a scarlet scarf. The older woman helped Mikasa out of her plush pink coat and draped it over her forearm.

“Who is this?” The woman asked, eyes slightly widened as they landed on you.

“This is (Y/n), my nanny,” Levi said vaguely and the woman nodded slowly before gently pushing Mikasa out from behind her legs.

“Honey, why don’t we go take a look at your new room?” The woman asked and the girl’s brows knitted together, but she let the social worker guide her down the hall and out of sight. Levi tailed behind them, you almost followed as well, but you feared overwhelming her. Levi hauled the small suitcase down the hall and you heard the soft chatter of the two adults. A few moments passed before they returned, the social worker shook Levi’s hand and knelt down to give Mikasa a tender hug.

“We’ll be in touch.” She promised as she showed herself out. Levi’s shoulders drooped once the woman left and he looked down at the small girl who stood near his side.

“Mikasa,” He cleared his throat and the small girl looked up at him, eyes swimming with tears and lip quivering. A rush of panic flooded his chest but you were quicker than he was.

“Mikasa, my name is (Y/n), we’re going to be spending a lot of time together.” You had crossed the room to kneel before her with your hand outstretched invitingly. The girl gripped the edge of her dress and swayed it anxiously as she avoided your eyes.

“I know this is really scary and confusing, but we’re going to work through this together.” You assured her when she remained closed off. Levi watched with wide eyes as tears slid down her face and rolled off her chin. You leaned forward and swiped them away with your thumb and Mikasa whimpered unsurely.

“Tell you what, I was just about to make some breakfast. Have you eaten yet?” You asked, after a moment of contemplation, Mikasa shook her head no shyly.

“What would you like? I’ve been told that I make a mean waffle.” You smiled wryly and Mikasa’s lip quivered as it quirked up in an unsure smile.

“I wanna make cinnamon rolls.” She spoke softly and you nodded with wide eager eyes.

“Totally.” You agreed, still holding your hand out as you slowly stood. Mikasa accepted your outstretched, her small hand was easily enveloped in your own as you led her around the island.

“Hey Levi, how much time before you’ve got to leave?” You asked as you stopped to hoist Mikasa up onto the counter.

“About 30 minutes.” He said, trying to contain himself from scolding you for putting the child onto the counter.

“Want to help us?” You invited and Levi sighed, knowing it would be wrong to decline.

“I don’t have cinnamon rolls.” He said instead of answering the original question.

“Oh that’s not a problem. Do you have flour? Yeast, eggs?” You asked as you turned and began rummaging through the cabinets.

“Of course, I’m not an animal.” He scoffed and you chuckled as you pulled out a bag of flour.

“That’s all we need.” You sat the bag next to Mikasa who reached out and touched it experimentally. Next you pulled out the carton of eggs from the fridge, Mikasa opened the carton and gently held an egg. Levi could easily imagine her losing her grip and dropping the egg onto his freshly cleaned wood floors.

“Where’s your cinnamon?” You asked, back turned and arms outstretched as you held the cabinet open.

“Here.” Levi slid past you, opening the neighboring cabinet and held the spice out to you. With a smile you accepted it and added the container to the growing pile of ingredients.

“How long does this take?” Levi asked, glancing at his watch.

“Not 30 minutes.” You answered wryly as you handed Mikasa a wooden spoon, she accepted it happily. Her small hands wrapped around the handle and she placed the spoon against her cheek, basically hugging the utensil.

“What else do you need?” He asked as you perused his kitchen.

“Just yeast and sugar.” You answered as you crouched to look for a bowl.

“It’s over here.” He opened a cabinet near the one you were inspecting and pulled out a bag of sugar and a handful of yeast packets.

“Do you cook a lot?” You asked and he shrugged.

“Enough, I hate eating out.” He answered and you hummed in understanding.

Levi watched as you began making the dough and Mikasa leaned on your shoulder as you kneaded the dough. Her grey eyes widened when you motioned for her to join in. She poked the dough and you smiled as she splayed her small hands over the surface of the squishy dough.

Once again, all Levi could think about how dirty her hands were as she began kneading the dough as you had previously.

“That’s great! Now we can let it sit for a while before we roll them up!” You explained as you gathered the dough back up into the bowl and laid a kitchen towel over it.

“Want an apple while we wait?” You asked and Mikasa nodded enthusiastically as you turned to grab the fruit. Levi looked at his watch once more, he still had about 10 minutes before he had to leave. But he felt the pressure and reality of his newfound responsibility weighing heavy on his chest. So he went to get his shoes and retreat like the coward he was.

“Leaving?” You asked as he pulled his shoes on, you had already cut the apple and Mikasa was watching with curious eyes as she crunched on a slice.

“Yeah, I’ll be back before 8.” He promised and you nodded.

“See you then.” You called after him as he slipped out of the garage door, throwing up a careless wave of acknowledgment as he went. You then turned back to Mikasa and sighed exasperatedly and she giggled as you returned to making her breakfast. This was going to be a long day.

[bratkook]

eleven months. (m) myg. one.

masterlist.

pairing: min yoongi x reader genre: fluff, slow burn!!!, eventual smut, warnings: none this chapter. word count: 2.8k author’s note: this chapter is on the shorter side, just diving into them meeting and giving you all a small glimpse into them as individuals! im really excited for this story so let me know what you think, feel free to scream about anything in my inbox bye ily lmao summary: it’s been years of yoongi living his routine life, accustomed to his pace of living, going with the flow and simply existing. until you come along. yoongi absolutely can not see the logic in the way you live, but he weirdly craves it. craves the feeling of not being afraid of not knowing what’s coming, being able to just let the cards fall wherever they land. and maybe you can help with that.

Yoongi loves the rain, really he does. The way the clouds gloom over the city, encompassing it in this darkness that reminds him of underexposed film. He wishes he could always see the world through this filter, always smell the scent of wet soil and tarmac as he makes his way through the streets. Something about hearing the soft patter hitting the sidewalk, bouncing off the rooftops and dripping from the gutters calms him. A soft smile spreads across his face as he exhales the smoke in his lungs, letting the stick hang loosely off his lips while his hands clutch onto his umbrella.

When he stomps his foot into a wide puddle, the cold water splashes up onto his ankle and he grimaces. He hates being caught in the middle of rain. It didn’t matter if he had his umbrella or not, or if he managed to bundle enough for the downpour, he hates stepping into puddles and getting his socks wet. Hates how some of the raindrops that slipped under his umbrella—since it was now raining sideways—have managed to make his cigarette slightly soggy.

Pulling the cigarette out of his mouth this time, he holds it in front of his face with a frown. It was halfway done but no longer burning properly due to how wet it had become. 

What a waste.

As he passes a trash can, he stubs it out fully and tosses it inside, a small pout on his face at the loss of something to fidget with. But then he sees the glowing sign inching closer, the bright neon yellow standing out in the grim weather. The illuminated Rkive360 in the distance stops him from slipping out another smoke, choosing to stuff his unoccupied hand into the pocket of his jeans, moving his legs a little faster to get to his destination.

The bell at the top of the door jingles as he stumbles in, his foot tripping over the small lip of the mat by the door. That was a safety hazard he’d playfully bitch to Namjoon about later. 

“Yoongi, hey!” When he balances out, closing his umbrella and giving it a good shake by the door, he looks up and grins at Taehyung. He spots him standing by a flat spread of clothes a few feet away, folding out some new items as he stares at Yoongi with a genuine smile. His curls flop over his eyes and Yoongi chuckles to himself as he wonders how a guy like him was here folding shirts when he should probably be the face of Gucci or something. 

Well, that’s life. 

“Hey man,” Yoongi mumbles out, his eyes catching the plastic bin beside the door that’s labeled ‘umbrellas here’ in a messy scribble he can only attribute to Taehyung. Not needing to be told twice, he sticks his dripping umbrella upside down into it and shuffles inside the shop, taking a minute to look around like he always did. 

Record stores have always been his safe space, even as a teenager. The amount of time spent in one after school, loitering inside with his friends as he sorted through the racks of CDs and vinyl, exiting with his bag of new goodies that left him excited to get home and play them. It was god sent that his best friend decided to open up his own place years ago, keeping it fully stocked with anything he could imagine. Maybe Yoongi was a little biased, but this was definitely the best shop in the country. 

It’s a welcoming place, pops of color in every corner, tall standing sculptures mixed in with displays of music, autographed albums and posters framed onto the wall behind the counter. It’s the full embodiment of his best friend, down to the tiny KAWS figurines perched beside the register and the music playing through the speakers. The small melody in the background fills his ears once the door is shut, recognizing the song playing as Dang! by Mac Miller and he bobs along as he approaches Taehyung.

“Quick question,” he starts, his hands coming up to shake at his gray hair that was slightly damp from the rain. Taehyung sets the shirt down, resting both of his palms on the table as he leans towards Yoongi with interest. “Any chance you guys miraculously got Seventeen Seconds in your stock this week?”

Taehyung hums in thought, his brows furrowing together as he tries to mentally sort through the massive boxes of new vinyl Namjoon had brought in a few days ago. New shipment comes once a week but every now and then Namjoon goes out of his way to find specific records, never missing with his selection. 

A small flash of blurry trees crosses his mind and then he's smiling at him. “Yeah, we actually got it the other day. Pretty sure Namjoon hunted it down for you since you’ve been asking. It should be in the back.” His thumb points behind him, towards the display tables that held all the LP’s available at the store, a very familiar spot. 

Yoongi mumbles out a thanks as he makes his way over, eyes already locked onto the bin that he knew would hold his prized possession. It’s not until he gets a few feet closer that he sees your crouched frame over a box, figure slightly hidden by a giant CD rack. You’re rummaging through the records, almost making him flinch when you quickly stand back up and find their proper spot in the display. You don’t notice him approaching until he’s right beside you, eyes once again glued to the bins lined in alphabetical order once the initial shock of another person subsided.

That’s when you give him a glance, sending him a soft smile as you slip the record in its rightful spot, crouching back down to grab the next bunch. His hand pauses on the edge of the bin at the glimpse of something familiar, momentarily distracted by your shirt. When you stand back up, feeling him staring at you, you slowly turn to face him once more with your eyebrows raised up in question.

He takes note of the tag clipped to your shirt, it reads Sana but he’s used to dealing with Sana and you are definitely not her. You’re new.

The smile remains on your lips as you rest your hip against the edge of the table holding up the record bins, preparing to put your best customer service voice to use. His eyes glance at the writing on your shirt again, cracking a grin when he confirms it's a New Order shirt tucked into your black jeans. “You like New Order?”

Your smile falters slightly, your arms crossing in front of you as you narrow your eyes at him in defense, not entirely sure how to take his tone. “If you’re about to ask me to name five of their songs I’ll have to walk away to avoid getting fired.”

His smile widens at that, soft and gummy, breaking his cold appearance as his arms raise up in front of him in surrender. “No, just an observation.”

Your demeanor softens again, your arms sagging back down to your sides and smiling once more. “Good, it's my first day on the job and I’d really like to keep it.”

Yoongi chuckles softly, going back to his searching for his precious album, leaning over the third bin dedicated to bands starting with the letter C. His nimble fingers flip through the LPs until he gets to the Cure, sorting through Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me, passing Pornography until he reaches Wish and his brows furrow, flicking back and forth as if the album he wanted would magically appear.

“Need help finding something?” You speak up again when you take note of him sorting through the same chunk of vinyl. He grunts lightly, letting the stack slant back in a heap as he purses his lips.

“Yeah actually, Taehyung said you guys got the album Seventeen Seconds but I don’t see it.

You step back from reorganizing the bin labeled S, trying to remember if you had brought the record out or if it was still sitting in the second box ready to be unpacked. Your brain was already overwhelmed from all of the information you had been given on your first day, trying to unscramble the entire backroom and it’s countless boxes—most of which were unlabeled because Taehyung said it’s not necessary since he knows where everything is. 

Much like Taehyung, you recall seeing a flash of the album cover when you sorted through the new box of records, knowing exactly where it was tucked away since you had been the one to store it. You were under strict orders to not put it out on the floor, because according to Namjoon, if someone else took this album you’d be attending his funeral. 

“Oh, uh gimme a sec.” You shuffle away, leaving him behind as you approach Taehyung, still folding away. “Hey, Tae?”

He hums in question, turning to stare at you with a small smile. “Whats up?”

“That guy is asking for Seventeen Seconds but Namjoon told me he’d be murdered if I gave this out to anyone.”

Taehyung starts laughing instantly, setting the shirt down as he stares at a confused looking Yoongi still standing by the LP’s. “Yeah, he was saving it for him specifically.”

“Got it, okay. Thanks.” You make a beeline back to the tables at the back, passing Yoongi with a polite smile. “Be right back!” you exclaim, wagging your finger at him as you make your way towards the back room, clearly on a mission.

Yoongi just stands there as you enter the employee stock room, not trying to cross any professional lines and follow you since you have no idea who he is. It's only a few feet away and you left the door propped open so when a few minutes pass and he hears rustling, followed by a heavy sounding thud and some curse words, he can’t help but wander over and peak his head in.

“You okay?” he asks, leaning against the door frame with a smirk on his face when he sees the way you’re frozen, one foot on the ledge of the shelf and the other on a not so sturdy looking stool, caught in the act of a poorly made decision. Below you lay two brown boxes that carry shirts you’re meant to unpack later, definitely the cause of the loud thud he had heard.

“Yep,” you confirm as you pluck out the record you need, shoving the box back into its safe spot and hopping down haphazardly. “Here you go.”

Grabbing the record carefully, he flips it over to skim the track list and smiles widely when he looks back up at you. That familiar warmth fills his chest as he holds the new item, making him feel the same way he had as a teenager when he bought his first LP. He had been searching for this vinyl for months now. It wasn’t as if it was no longer in production, he just couldn’t seem to find it in stock anywhere he looked and buying it internationally was the last resort he would take since the shipping fees were downright illegal. “Thanks.”

You’re already hunched down on the floor as you open up one of the boxes that had fallen in your haste to scale the shelves, deciding to just unpack in now since you were here. 

“Yeah, no problem. Tae can ring you up at the front.” Sending him off with a smile and a wave, he takes that as his cue to exit, making his way to the front again. 

When he leaves the backroom you flop onto your butt with a huff, your legs sprawling out with the second box in between them. You were hoping your words didn’t come across as rude to him but you couldn’t take the way his sharp eyes stared at you. Had he lingered any longer you would have embarrassed yourself, it was a miracle your footing hadn’t slipped on your way down from the shelves. You can’t imagine your ego being able to recover from a tumble like that. 

Taehyung spots Yoongi leaning against the front counter, setting the final shirt down and going to stand behind it with a smile. “Did you find everything okay?” he asks automatically, the general phrases they had to use coming out without a thought and Yoongi scoffs, sliding the record across the counter and nodding.

“Of course I did, you let Namjoon know that I said your customer service is unmatched.” His finger gently rubs against the first black KAWS figurine, smiling at the remaining four as he remembers how Namjoon had excitedly told him that this was their friend group, representing them all perfectly. 

Taehyung grins with a roll of his eyes, scanning the album and slipping it into the brown paper bag they provided. “Wonderful. Your total is 40,000 won.”

“Wow, your customer service voice is phenomenal.”

Taehyung laughs now, his nose crinkling up at Yoongi's sarcastic tone, watching how Yoongi grins back at him, succeeding in getting him to crack. “Fuck you, man.”

“Ah, there he is.” Yoongi hums with a chuckle as he pulls out his wallet, sorting through his bills and handing them to Taehyung. “Who’s New Order girl?”

Tae raises his brows as he enters the amount into the POS, the drawer popping open against his hips. “Oh, Y/N?” Yoongi only shrugs, you had Sana’s name tag on so how the hell should he know.

Taehyung stuffs the money into the drawer and slams it shut, ripping off the receipt from the machine and slipping it into the bag. “She just started today, can’t remember where she moved from, some place far though.” He shrugs as he hands the bag over to Yoongi.

The older boy ruffles his damp hair up, accepting the bag with his right hand. “Oh, cool. Well thanks, I’ll see you guys later then?” Taehyung just waves him off with a smile, similar to the way you did and he laughs to himself when he realizes Taehyung must be the one in charge of training you.

As he approaches the front door he pulls out his pack of cigarettes once more, sliding one out and slipping it between his lips. He finds himself looking towards the back of the shop again, seeing you resuming your organization, but your head lifts up as you feel him staring at you from his spot at the door. The spark of his lighter flashes across his face when he lights up his smoke, opening his umbrella once more now that he's partially outside. When your eyes meet, he smiles around the stick, giving you a nod before turning and walking back out into the rain.

You watch as his figure disappears down the street, his dark silhouette blending in with the rest of the people roaming the city, and when you can no longer see him through the store window you turn towards Taehyung. He’s stood at the POS, fidgeting with the screen, but when you call his name he glances up at you. “Is he a regular?”

He nods in response, eyes going back to stare at the screen as he begins to print out a sheet to fulfill the online orders the store received. “Yeah, he comes in at least once a week. Buys strictly vinyl. I think Namjoon mentioned he’s a music producer, or maybe it was a DJ, I can’t remember.”

Taehyung evidently doesn’t have the best memory, that much had been made clear in the short span you’ve known him. He had forgotten your name twice during your interview, Namjoon having to subtly repeat it for him, he had also asked you three times where you were from and at first you thought he was joking but when his face remained serious you realized he had really forgotten already.

“Hey, where’d you move from again?” he asks one more, genuinely curious as if you hadn’t told him a handful of times already. 

“I told you, Iceland.” It’s a lie, but when he hums in thought—pretending to suddenly remember—you chuckle at the newfound way to mess with him. 

He’s quick to start questioning you about Iceland, nodding along to the lies you spill while you both go back to your tasks of sorting albums and folding shirts. It makes your first full shift eventful, passing jokes back and forth as the sky grows gloomier. As distracting as your conversations get, you can’t help but glance up through the windows whenever a dark clad figure walks by, the thought of the sharp eyed stranger lingering in your mind. 

[innocentimouto]

Personal stuff

People make Zuko into poor innocent angsty soft always good was taught better by his mother everyone should love him how dare anyone not baby boi

And I say let them.

Hear me out.

I like to look at a blog as a semi-public journal, made for oneself and other likeminded people. And once you do that, it’s not exactly reasonable to try to go into their journal and scribble on pages about why they’re stupid or ruining the fandom.

And even when I find it annoying that they woobify Zuko, because my whole point of liking him was that he was abused and acted out in anger and that’s a rare depiction of abuse in children’s media because it’s messy and not easy to deal with in real life like he was cruel to Iroh and felt entitled to things because he was royalty he stole from Song and we never see him feel guilt over that and he was angry let him be unreasonably angry exactly what are you saying about people with anger issues

Even if I dislike when people take all that away and use the defense that ‘you think being soft isn’t masculine’ when that isn’t the point, even then, if you look at their posts just talking about Zuko (and not demonizing other characters, which some don’t), they’re so happy.

Is it weird to feel happy for them? Like I got into the fandom late. I always saw numerous Zuko fics but each time I lost interest because he wasn’t Zuko. He never did anything messy that made me interested in his character in the first place. So I just got out of the fandom, but so many people are fed up with others always talking about him and making uwu fics.

But it’s genuinely amazing that so many people, from across the world, can get together and gush about something they love. If it’s in their own space, then don’t attack them.

It may be irritating to me that they’re changing a character. At the end of the day though, what exactly are we supposed to do? Attacking them accomplishes nothing, if you somehow forget they’re actual people and we should never do that in the first place. There’s much more merit to people making their own posts against those misconceptions because more people will see it and not worry too much about getting caught in drama.

(And you won’t ruin other people’s fun, which I think we should consider more even with people we disagree with.)

Also, on a more extreme side that’s not really specific to anyone, it may help to remember that if someone goes as far as to call a 12 year old a rapist or sympathize with Zuko or Azula but call Jet an irredeemable monster, or some other extreme take, then it is very unlikely anything we say to them will change their mind. Better not waste energy and your happiness on those people and focus on producing content to counter that.

Since it’s entirely fictional, I think people should be able to change a character if they want to. (Personally I just wish they acknowledged that and didn’t attack others for sticking to canon. Or reducing characters because they erase the flaws but keep the reactions of the rest of the cast, which can only result in demonizing them.)

I understand the urge to see your favorite character in everything, to never shut up about them, to consider writing them in numerous different situations. And I find it very freeing to watch people get happy talking about Azula, Zuko, etc because it’s their blog, their hobby, their words.

This is coming across as strangely at peace with it all when in reality I get so fed up with all the Tim Drake fics that put down Dick or Damian or any other character. Or just how he straight up steals their character traits, their backstories, etc, in the comics.

My solution to that isn’t ideal as I’ve essentially stopped reading most fics in the DC fandom.

But I still hate the idea of commenting on those fics to point out why I hate them, or going to Tim Drake blogs to tell them how much I hate his character. Because why?? Those are people. I may disagree with them strongly, but ultimately I wouldn’t want them jumping onto my work and putting down my favorite characters.

It’s a work in progress, but I think I’ve managed to get to the point where I feel happy for anyone who gushes about a character, fanon or otherwise, so long as they don’t reduce other characters as a result.

[amazingphilza]

study buddies :: cc!multiple x reader

fluff , platonic , gender neutral ! some headcanons if the mcyts were trying to help you do hw :D

cc’s included in order: tommyinnit , tubbo , ranboo , wilbur soot , philza , technoblade

tommyinnit

i feel like he’s the type to be in a long discord call with you whilst you both try to finish your work

mans uses the screensharing feature like there’s no tomorrow

“y/n watch my stream on discord and help me guess the answers”

“tommy no! i haven’t even taken a film class before”

“your guess is good as mine”

“just cheat and google the answers!!!”

“fuck you”

he actually just wants your attention because he’s bored out of his mind doing homework

five minutes later of asking you to help him guess questions he’s like

“hey y/n”

“what now?”

“let’s play bedwars”

“oh my god shut up!!!”

if tommy has to speedrun something before a deadline, it is a whole different story tho; he will be so focused on completing that he won’t hear what you’re saying

if you’re struggling in math, you’re on your own

“math is shit, only numbers i need is my primes and youtube analytics” says tommy any time you complain about math

besides the fact he isn’t good at solving math problems, you can’t even read his handwriting if he did try showing you how to do a problem

“okay, y/n, it’s simple, just look” he says in his kareninnit voice and everything

you’d be like “is the variable a G or a 9??”

“fuck you that’s a 4!!!”

tubbo

i don’t know if tubbo ever talked about school before but something about him makes me think he’s actually pretty good at math

like he can explain a few things when it comes to math / algebra

CODING GO BRRRR

no geometry or calculus though, anything past algebra will go bad

if tubbo is doing homework with you, he will definitely tune you out

“hey tubbo can you help me on this question?”

you don’t get a response until like 20 minutes later

“oh yeah, what was it y/n?”

like now you answer? i just got the answer myself after so long, forget you smh

“oh nothing tubbo, nevermind!”

but you’re still grumbling in your head because if he answered just a bit earlier you wouldn’t have gone through the work of finding the answer online

i can also imagine if you’re taking chemistry tubbo is like ;

“oh you’re taking chemistry? let’s make some bombs!” /lh

tubbo would definitely pull an all-nighter with you to finish your projects together

if you had a group project, he would make you do the writing part while he does the drawing part

“we definitely aced this project”

“of course we did, if i made you draw we would’ve ended up with stick figure diagrams”

“TUBBO. THE FUCK?”

ranboo

okay i know ranboo said he isn’t a theatre or band kid (unless im wrong and forgetful) but i feel like he’d be somewhat educated in the topics nonetheless

half the time he’s great moral support, helping you stay motivated !

the other half is him making fun of you

“i cant believe you’re failing, that is so sad, can’t be me”

“it’s literally an honors class, ranboo! it’s supposed to be hard!!”

“taking an honors class willingly? also cant be me AHAHA”

i honestly can’t see ranboo going to school like i know he’s a minor and said he had zoom calls before and plays volleyball but like did i miss something? has he dropped out yet? like something about ranboo does not scream “student” /lh

besides that, i’m not sure what subject he would actually be good in,,, but something about nutrition/health sciences,, he knows a few things

don’t get me wrong, i don’t think he actually likes the subject but somehow remembers what he learned from the class

also gives me the type of energy of the type of person to take a first aid class to be a certified person to do cpr on someone just to kill time during his lunch breaks for a while or something

“i am a certified cpr person”

“my life in ranboo’s hands? oh god please no”

you two would probably joke about the ‘bad’ people in your classes or talk shit about your schools than actually doing anything homework related ngl AHAHAH

“you think your school is down bad? mine went back to campus full time after like 6 months into quarantine because they were running out of money”

“what the hell y/n? your school is a scam, drop out”

“arghhhh i knowww”

“i bet i make more money than your teachers combined AHAHAH”

wilbur soot

he doesn’t seem like the best person to ask for help for homework but can info dump you on very specific historical events + a bit of geography

i kinda see him as the person you can ask to proof read an essay for you and would help it improve immensely

who needs a thesaurus when you have vocabulary boy wilbur?

i dunno if it’s an american thing only or at all, but if/when you get to studying hamilton in your english class, he will get so fucking excited

“no wilbur it isn’t fun! imagine listening to lin-manuel miranda rap ‘alexander hamilton’ at the white house from like 2009 on repeat for over an hour whilst trying to write an analysis about it!! it was so distracting”

“well clearly someone has a personal problem with mr lin-manuel. if i were you, i’d be singing the whole thing”

is this last bit personal and complete spite from my freshman year english class? yes. i do not care? no. /hj

unrelated but i actually scribbled nice guy ballad lyrics and other songs on my english scratch papers in freshman year but anyway

probably isn’t the best person to be in a call to do homework with but wilbur doesn’t mind you ringing him occasionally sometimes

i dunno i can just see him easily get bored of the silence or something but also doesn’t want to bother you too much

but he is genuinely proud of you whenever you tell him you aced a big test you were studying for :D

philza

this man’s bad advice is as bad as him trying to help you on any subject

he’s an old man so /hj

but like honestly, he hasn’t been at school for so long, phil can probably only help with the most basic things when it comes to school

if you have a wack teacher that makes you collect data through surveying people, phil would be one of the best people to ask! straightforward and won’t take too much of your time compared to other people ahem,,

statistics things ! sobs

if you ever complain a lot about your classes and contemplating dropping out and stuff, he will def scold you hard

“ugh phillllllllll can i just like,, never go to school again?”

“do not drop out”

“argh fine, i won’t just ‘cause philza minecraft said so”

honestly if you get a high score in a big test like your sats/gcse’s (whatever you’re taking from wherever you are) he’d probably order you a small meal or something to celebrate :D

like how phil bought ranboo bought him food to his house, it would start as a joke but when you get your test scores back he’s like “YOOO GOOD JOB Y/N”

expect a left meat pizza coming to your house .

technoblade

like wilbur, techno is also helpful when it comes to history!

def knows a decent bit of literature too

besides that i don’t really see him being that helpful

even if he was supposed to be an english major

he will just get mad at the school system for teaching you useless things

“being in school is good but why do you need to know how to know if something is a triangle or not? i can obviously see with my eyes that it’s a triangle”

“i dunno! ask the person that made up geometry”

“just look at a kaleidoscope and be over with it, it isn’t that hard”

“that isn’t how it works—”

“bruhhh”

if you’re looking for the person to call while doing homework, he is not the person /lh

it’s either like 0 or 100 with techno

he can just completely not say anything and ignore you or go on a full rant about whatever class or homework you have

if you have an essay you need written, it will take a lot of bribing but he might take the opportunity if you are rich

“techno i’ll paypal you $10 please help me”

“no. i can make 10 times that amount in 5 minutes if i just started streaming right now”

“techno i don’t have that kind of money! pleaseee”

“no. instead of complaining, you can use that time to actually start you work”

“you’re the worst”

then you speedrun the essay and get an A just to spite him