#like i gotta memorise where all these keys are?

[ali-anne-undertale-stoof]

Now here's the brothers taking a slice at being delivery men!

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Chapter 4: Around Town (Piece of Cake)

Finally! Just one more dollop of butternut cream, and Cottin Cinnabun's Cookies And Cream Cake was complete!

The purple rabbit stood back to admire her handiwork. This client of hers was in for a real treat! Now all she has to do is deliver it! And to Cottin, that's just a day's work.

Ring ring! Whoops! Looks like Cottin had another customer to tend to. Not just one, but two. Two skeletons... Oh, of course! She was wondering about those two. At least now she had the chance to meet them for real.

The taller skeleton spoke up. "HELLO, MISS CINNAMON BUNNY, MA'AM!! IT IS I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS!!" And he delightfully pushed the smaller skeleton in front of him. "AND THIS IS MY BROTHER!!! HE MAY BE LACKADAISICAL, BUT I PROMISE YOU, HE'S A SWEETHEART!"

"laying it on a bit thick there, buddy. hey. i'm sans. sans the skeleton."

Well... This was certainly interesting. Cottin leaned against the counter, smirking and crossing her arms.

"Nice to meetcha. Is there anything you need?"

The smaller skeleton started scratching his neck. "yeah, uh, we were wondering if you have any jobs for us. y'know, like... for gold 'n' stuff."

Oh. Well, that was unexpected. But then again, it's understandable. These two did just move in, after all.

"Well, I don't really have any jobs open to you right NOW, but if you want, I can-"

"ARE YOU SURE?! WE ARE VERY HELPFUL SKELETONS!!! WE CAN BE YOUR FRIENDS!!! YOUR PALS!!! YOUR RIGHT HAND MEN!!!! WELL, I CAN BE THE RIGHT HAND, SANS CAN BE THE LEFT HAND!! AND YOU CAN BE.. UM... THE LEGS??? IS THAT HOW IT WORKS???"

Cottin chuckled. Man, this guy has so much energy.

"Nah, sorry, Papyrus. I just have to make a delivery, but that's about it."

"really? you don't want to have someone watch the store for you?"

Cottin shook her head. Both skeletons seemed to deflate a bit, one a lot more noticeable than the other. Aww, poor kids... The rabbit turned to the box on the counter. It was right next to the other empty boxes. Hmm... Maybe they could do something for her.

Just as the brothers turned to leave, Cottin called out to them. "Hey, boys?"

The boys turned around. "uh huh?" "YEAH?"

"Say... You know, I have this cake to deliver, and if it's not much trouble at all..."

Papyrus lit up first. "OH MY GOSH!!! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU" He just went on like this!

"alright, buddy, that's enough," Sans chuckled. Cottin's confident smile noticeably formed into something warmer. She supposed it was the effect of watching a good sibling relationship thrive.

Papyrus cleared his throat before talking, "WHERE DO YOU WANT US TO TAKE IT?"

Cottin proceeded to point towards the address on the label. "103 Icicool Street. Think you can handle that?"

"no problemo." Sans gave the rabbit lady a thumbs up.

"YEAH!! IT'LL BE A PIECE OF CAKE!!!"

"Well, let's just hope you manage to take the WHOLE cake, alright, boys?"

"O-OF COURSE!!! THE WHOLE CAKE!!!"

Cottin nodded. Yeah, she has faith in these two. "Cool. Whatever tips you get, you can keep." She grabbed her keys and started heading out the door. "I gotta go."

"WHAT?! WHERE?!"

"To see my nibling. They've got a surprise for me. See ya."

And just like that, Cottin was gone. That meant Papyrus had to take charge.

"ALRIGHT, SANS!!! 103 ICICOOL STREET!! MEMORISE IT!!"

"memorising..."

Without looking, Papyrus picked up a box from the side. "ALRIGHT!! LET'S DO THIS!!! SKELEBROS, SKELEGO!!! WAIT, I MIGHT NEED TO CHANGE THAT..."

The streets are notoriously quiet today. It would have freaked the boys out if Snowdin wasn't such a peaceful town. Instead, it was just a nice stroll around the corner. Easiest delivery ever.

And that's what made it so BORING! Sans thought he needed to spice things up a bit.

"sooooooo... can i see the cake?"

Papyrus held the box away from Sans. "WHAT?! NO!! IT'S NOT FOR YOU, IT'S FOR THE CUSTOMER!!"

"come on, i promise i won't eat it."

"YOU DEFINITELY WILL!!!"

Sans feebly tried to reach up. "c'mon, i wanna see!"

With his superior height, Papyrus easily held the box away from the short skeleton. "NO!!! IF YOU WANT A CAKE, WE CAN BUY ONE AFTERWARDS!!!"

"please? i won't lick it or anything."

"YOU DON'T HAVE A TONGUE!!!"

"exactly, so i won't lick it."

"SANS-" Papyrus felt the box slowly falling out of his hand. The few moments between Papyrus dropping the box and it hitting the ground felt like it was going in slow motion.

POOF!

Both brothers stared at the box in horror. Oh god, what have they done?!

Papyrus fell to his knees and cried to whatever god was watching them. "NOOOOOO!!! WHYYYYY?! WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?!?!?!?!??!"

Sans sighed, both out of guilt for causing this mess in the first place, and on Papyrus' half because really? Why did he have to make such a scene?

"maybe they wouldn't mind a squashed cake."

"NO, SANS!!! IT'S RUINED!!!"

"let's just try to do damage control, okay?"

When Sans lifted the box, he found it was a lot... lighter than what he was expecting. Huh. Strange. Wonder why that is.

He opened the box. Oh.

It's empty.

Papyrus gasped in shock. "WHERE'S THE CAKE?!?!?!"

"huh. must've picked up the wrong box by mistake."

"HOW COULD I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, PICK UP THE-"

Yet another one of Papyrus' theatrics got cut off by the peculiar sight of a dog. But not just a dog. A dog with what looks like a cake sitting neatly on his back. Uh oh.

"is that..."

"...THE CAKE?"

...

"how??????" "HEY, GET BACK HERE!!!"

Thus began a wild goose chase... Well, more like a wild DOG chase. The sight was pretty silly, with two skeletons chase a dog with a cake on his back. In addition, Sans constantly kept bumping into the few people that were roaming the streets.

Bump! "sorry!" Bump! "sorry!"

Papyrus is fully aware that Sans is no athlete, but did he really have to be so clumsy NOW???

"SANS!!! WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOI-" CRASH! Speak for yourself, Papyrus. You just crashed into a tree. And smashed into the ground on impact.

Sans approached the tree and patted it. "sorry."

"GROAN..." As the taller skeleton dusted off the snow, he took the time to look around for the dog and the lost cake. "WHERE IS THAT MEDDLING CANINE?!"

"uhh, bro?" Papyrus glanced at Sans, who was pointing upwards. Huh. He looked up. Oh, there's the dog. Sitting on the branch, next to the cake.

"HEY!!! DOG!!! I WOULD LIKE TO INFORM YOU THAT THAT CAKE IS NOT YOURS!!! IT IS FOR OUR COOL CLIENT!!! SO I IMPLORE YOU, PLEASE GET DOWN AND RETURN THAT CAKE TO US!!!"

The dog doesn't respond. Papyrus huffed and clenched his fists. This dog...

"HEY!!! CANINE!!! I SAID GET DOWN!!!!!!"

Still no response. Papyrus wished he had hair so he could rip it out!

"HEY!!!!!!!!"

"relax, bro. maybe we could get it down with a treat."

"YES, THAT'S AN EXCELLENT IDEA!! HMM..." Papyrus tapped his foot and scratched his chin, trying to come up with an idea. "WHAT DO DOGS LIKE?"

Sans shrugged. "bones?"

"AHA! YES! BONES!"

It's a good thing they're skeletons! Papyrus summoned a fine-looking femur bone with his magic. Surely, this will work!

"HERE, POOCHIE POOCHIE POOCHIE!! I'VE GOT A TASTY BONE FOR YOU!!!"

All that got the dog to do was tilt his head.

"...NADA."

"maybe we should put a little meat on it?"

"EWW!!! I AM NOT CONTAMINATING MY PRECIOUS BONES WITH RANCID MEAT!!!"

"sigh... fine. i'll do it." With a flick of his eye, Sans disappeared... and then reappeared! This time with a juicy burger that honestly made Papyrus want to throw up. But if it works, it works.

Sans carefully skewers it with a thinner bone, and holds it out like a giant lollipop. "here, boy! want a juicy burger? it's on the house. well, no. it's on the bone.

The annoying dog tilts his head to the side and sniffs curiously. This action knocked the cake to the side a little.

"wait wait wait, stop stop stop!" The dog stopped. Sans sighed in relief. "okay, pap. make sure to stay under the cake, alright? be ready to catch it."

"I KNOW, SANS!!" Papyrus stood under the branch with his arms wide. "I'M READY!!!"

A team effort! Sans lured the dog down with the burger, and Papyrus...

SQUEAK!

...caught the dog toy?

"WAIT A MINUTE..." Just to make sure he got this right, Papyrus inspected every inch of this so-called "cake." It looked awfully realistic for a dog toy. "THIS ISN'T THE CAKE!!! THIS IS JUST A DOG TOY!!! NYEH!!!" He slammed it to the ground in a huff.

"really?"

"YES!!!"

"seriously?"

"YES, REALLY SERIOUSLY!!! WE WERE CHASING A DOG FOR ITS TOY!!!"

"oh." Sans chuckled and gave the toy back to the dog. "sorry, little buddy. we're idiots."

"YOU CAN SAY THAT AGAIN!!"

"we're idiots."

"NOT LITERALLY!!!"

So if the cake was a lie, that must mean...

"WAIT!!! WHAT ABOUT THE REAL CAKE?!"

"like i said before, it must be back at the shop. you must've taken an empty box by mistake. say, how come you didn't notice earlier?"

"WELL, BROTHER, AS YOU KNOW, THE GREAT PAPYRUS' MUSCLES ARE VERY LARGE AND STRONG!! CARRYING A CAKE BOX IS LIKE CARRYING A FEATHER!!! I BARELY FELT A THING!!"

Okay, that got a chuckle out of Sans. Papyrus never wasted an opportunity to show off his "muscles". Well, that only left one thing to do.

The trip back to the shop was pretty uneventful, as was actually grabbing the real cake box and travelling back to Icicool Street.

Sure, the door was locked, but it was nothing a little shortcut couldn't fix. And just like that, the brothers were back on track, with no funny (bone) business this time. It wasn't the first time the brothers had goofed during a job, and it certainly wouldn't be the last, but this time, they were working as a team.

When they finally arrived at 103 Icicool Street, it was a huge relief for the brothers. The cake wasn't messed up, there were no shenanigans. It was all smooth sailing from here.

Papyrus proudly knocked on the door.

...

And someone answered???

"Ahh, what a beautiful knock...Maybe if I don't answer, I'll hear it again."

...

Papyrus knocked it again, hesitant this time.

...

"Ahh, my patience rewards me."

Sans chuckled a little, but Papyrus could tell he was a little nervous. "uh, looks like patience isn't rewarding us right now."

If Papyrus had any form of pupils... Can he just get pupils??? "I'LL SAY."

A small voice called out.

"I'll take it in."

Sans and Papyrus were momentarily startled by the tiny voice. They look down to discover a tiny little rock monster! Sans cautiously placed the cake on top of the tiny rock.

"Thank you. Papa will be pleased."

The tiny rock goes inside. A few moments later, 20G slid through the flap and plummeted to the ground. How generous!

All the brothers had to do was look at each other and they knew... That they were definitely not knocking on this door again unless they really have to.

[anxiouscritter]

het so ive beem relearnign how w touch type recently and i thought id make some ranfom posts to dociment ot? om trying ,y best not to liij at the leybpatf vut i dont thin itd hel;ping so muvh. im also not correcting my mistakes, i shall live with the siffering kmowledge of mt failures as a means to motivate my improvement.

that is all

[deanstead]

Reel to Real

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Request by anon: hiii! can i request a dean winchester x reader where they have to fake date for case and they end up confessing their feelings for each other by the end of it?? please and thank you so much!!!

Warnings: mention of suicide (kind of), mention of injury/passing out

A/N: First Dean Request! Sorry I’ve been having a drought since the end of Supernatural but here it is! Hope you like what I did with it, thanks for the request! Dean requests are open, so please feel free to send in an ask! ^^

---

Dean leaned over, putting his arm around you in the diner.

You felt your heartbeat spike, although you knew all Dean was doing was pretending. You looked around the diner, trying to memorise the faces that were here, pausing slightly on Sam who was seated at the other end, not looking at the both of you.

You guys had no idea what you were hunting. What you did know was that it was couples that went missing and that they all stopped at this diner – which made sense considering it was the only diner for miles.

But because of the fact that couples were disappearing, that left you to have to play a couple with Dean. Dean who could make your heart jump out of your chest with just a smile or a little chuckle. But you had to remain cool.

You let out a breath as Dean looked down at you. “You okay?”

You looked up into his green eyes and gulped, smiling. “Yeah.”

You shook your head. You had to focus.

“What can I get the both of you?” The waitress came by, smiling.

Dean looked back up and smiled. “We’ll both have the cheeseburger. And two coffees.”

The waitress smiled as she wrote down the order. “New in town?” She asked, her eyes lingering a little too long on Dean.

Dean smiled. “Road tripping with my girl.” His hand tightening a little around your shoulder, his fingers running down your upper arm. Dean was a natural.

A small disappointed smile flitted across the young waitress face as she waved her order pad. “I’ll get your orders in.”

But the diner was a complete washout. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary – no EMF, no cold spots, nothing.

“Maybe just showing yourselves has already set something in motion, let’s just hang tight for a while more.” Sam reassured you as the three of you pulled up at the motel after leaving the diner.

You nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Dean tossed Sam a key. “That’s yours.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Gotta keep up the act.” Dean said, winking at you. “After you.” He said, swinging the door open.

Great, now you had to share a room with Dean. That wasn’t going to be pretty.

Sam smirked. “Later, lovebirds.”

You would have kicked Sam if you had been near enough. Instead, you rolled your eyes and headed into the room, dropping your bag off at the entrance.

“Dean.” You sent him a glance, as you stood in front of the king sized bed.

Dean grinned. “Come on, you love sleeping with me. At least I don’t snore.” He pointed to the wall.

You chuckled. “Point taken.”

By the time both of you had settled in, you were itching for a drink. “I’m gonna go grab something from the vending machine downstairs. You want anything?”

Dean looked up from where he was loading his gun and nodded. “I’ll come with you.”

You raised an eyebrow and Dean shrugged. “Hey, I’m just being a good boyfriend.”

You rolled your eyes. “You really think this thing is watching us?”

Dean shrugged. “Maybe.” He looked out the window, tucking the gun into his pants. “Come on.”

You followed Dean out, heading straight for the vending machines as Dean leaned against the wall outside the room, his eyes following you. You looked around as you reached the vending machine. It was quiet. A little… too quiet.

Dean seemed to share the sentiment as he looked at you from across the lot, his eyes roving the deserted lot.

You jumped as the canned drink fell with a loud thud. Now you were just scaring yourself.

You shook your head, chuckling at yourself when you felt a pair of hands grab you.

The last thing you saw was a blue light, as the sounds of Dean yelling your name faded out.

---

Dean groaned as he opened his eyes, the room swimming in front of him. He looked down, his hands tied securely to a chair. “What the…”

He looked up again and that’s when he saw you, your head lolling to the side. “Y/N? Y/N!”

Dean’s eyes darted around the room, his hunter instincts coming to the foreground, trying to find a way out. He needed to get to you.

The sound of footsteps made him look up again.

“Oh you’re awake.” It was a female voice and Dean growled as he noticed the markings along her arm.

Djinn.

“So you’re the one responsible for the couples disappearing? What, is this like a fetish of sorts?”

The female djinn laughed. “One for me, one for my partner. I happen to like the guys, he the girls.” She motioned her head towards you, where another male djinn was circling you.

“You stay the hell away from her!” Dean yelled, before turning furiously back to the female djinn in front of him. “What did you do to her?”

The female djinn just chuckled. “You are really a couple, aren’t you?” She cooed. “My partner prefers to feed on dreams and desires, you know their happy place.” Dean growled again but she continued, “I, on the other hand, like to leave my prey awake. At least, at first. It’s always tastier when the males get all... protective.” Her hand glowed as she touched Dean’s forehead.

Dean groaned as he was touched, before his eyes rolled back.

---

Your eyes snapped open and you sat up, panting as if you had run a marathon. You were in an unfamiliar room that seemed too… homely?

You were extremely confused and you crawled out of bed. You frowned. There was too much crap here, things you never thought you’d see. Photo frames of you and Dean littered around the shelves. What kind of crazy world was this?

You closed your eyes, trying to remember something, anything, but you came up blank, it was like your whole life had been erased and now you were standing in the middle of what seemed to be your house that you had no recollection of.

“Y/N?”

Your head snapped up.

“Dean.” You breathed, glad of at least one thing.

“How did we get here?” You asked.

Dean’s brow furrowed a little in confusion before he smiled. “Still asleep? Go on, get ready then come out for breakfast.”

You cocked your head to the side, wondering what the hell was going on.

In slight confusion, you re-entered the room after getting dressed to see Dean dressed… nothing like Dean. “Dean, what’s going on?” You asked again.

Dean frowned a little. “Honey, you okay?” He reached out to touch you as a searing pain ripped through your skull and you thought you heard Sam’s voice.

You spun around. “Sam?”

Dean, who was sitting in front of you raised an eyebrow. “Y/N?”

You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the headache but images were now flashing in your brain. The Dean in front of you wasn’t talking but you could hear his voice in your head, calling your name over and over.

You dragged your chair back, standing up and moving backwards.

“This isn’t real.”

You looked around, at everything that was almost too perfect. The happy pictures of you and Dean, Dean standing over the breakfast he had made you, the too-perfect life in a too-perfect house.

“This isn’t real.” You repeated.

You sprinted to the kitchen counter, grabbing a knife.

“Y/N wait!” The Dean in front of you called out. Everything felt so real that you were worried you were going to give in to him.

“Don’t do it, honey. Put the knife down.” He said, his hands outstretched, those green eyes you loved so much staring back at you.

You shook your head again.

“Honey, look at me, it’s me. It’s Dean. Your Dean.” The words bounced around in your head.

“Out there? That’s not real. This is real. You can stay here with me, for the rest of your life, we can be happy together.”

You could feel the strong magnetic pull towards this Dean, this Dean that loved you, this Dean that wanted to be with you.

This Dean that was fake.

You ground your teeth against each other.

“No.” You spat before you ground the knife into your heart.

---

“Dean!” Sam yelled, pushing a syringe filled with the antidote straight into Dean.

Dean gasped, his eyes snapping open, panting.

“Sammy?” Dean was still panting.

Sam yanked off the ropes. “You’re okay. Take this.” He handed him a knife dipped in blood.

“Y/N.” Dean breathed, “Where is she?”

Sam spun around. Your head was still lolling by the side, the colour slowly leaving your face.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean breathed, running towards you, Sam following close behind him.

“Y/N, Y/N!” Dean called, as Sam pulled the restraints off and you collapsed into Dean’s arms. “Damn it.” He cursed.

“Y/N!” Dean yelled again as your eyes fluttered open. “Oh my god.” He breathed.

“Y/N, you with me?” Dean called again, his voice frantic.

You fought against the fog in your brain. “Dean?” You mumbled. “The real Dean?”

Dean sighed. “Yes, I’m right here, okay?”

“Dean!” Sam yelled. Dean spun around, his eyes falling on the two djinn.

Dean growled, propping you against the chair. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

You were slowly starting to get the energy back in your limbs and you pushed yourself up as Dean growled at the male djinn, plunging the blood-stained knife deep into his chest.

His howl of pain was drowned out by the cry of rage from his partner who was struggling with Sam.

Dean ran towards his brother as she pushed Sam off of her, lunging at Dean.

He dropped to the ground, rolling towards the side before pulling the knife upwards again.

It was over.

“Hey, come on.” Before you knew it, Dean was back next to you. “You okay?”

You smiled and nodded. “Great.”

Dean still held you close to him as he pulled you upwards, supporting you as best he could as he followed Sam out.

---

You weren’t sure if you really still wanted to be here but both Sam and Dean had somehow convinced you that it was still better to sleep it off before the three of you headed back to the bunker.

“Can I ask?” Dean said softly, sitting down next to you on the bed.

You looked up at him.

“You scared me back there.” Dean offered. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

You cracked a small smile. “I’ll be honest, you almost did. It was a perfect world.”

You went silent again although you could feel Dean’s eyes upon you.

“You kept dying.” Dean whispered and your eyes snapped back up.

You turned towards him. “What?”

“That was my fear. The one that kept replaying. Losing you.”

Your eyebrows shot up. Dean usually refrained from sharing so much, he packed up his emotions into a box and shoved it down into a deep dark corner in his mind.

“I don’t know what’s worse, getting scared or being tempted into a perfect world.” You commented. 

Dean sighed, leaning back against the headboard. “How’d you realise?”

Maybe it was because you hadn’t fully recovered from the djinn’s attack or maybe it was just being alone with Dean in here, but it was like you had no control over what you were saying. Your mind was screaming at you to stop but your lips kept moving.

“It was too perfect. A perfect world, a life with you. That’s what alerted me that it was all wrong.”

Dean sat up. “What do you mean?”

You looked away. “Dean, come on. I know where I stand with you. It’s fine.”

Dean tugged at your arm, forcing you to turn around to face him. “You don’t know shit.” He growled, his hands reaching for the sides of your face gently as he pulled you into a kiss.

Your eyes widened but it was too late for you to react. You felt an entire wave of emotions rush in, you could feel Dean’s breath, his stubble tickling your chin, his hands moving into your hair, his lips full on yours as he pulled you deeper and deeper.

When he finally stopped, you pulled away, furrowing your brows.

“I’m not totally sure I’m back in the real world.” You muttered, looking up at Dean.

Dean chuckled, “Oh sweetheart, trust me, this is very real.”

You put your arms on his chest, as if to push him away but you didn’t. “Dean…”

“Dean, you’re just... this is because we had to act like a couple. The hunt’s over, it’s okay, you can stop pretending.”

Dean shook his head. “I’m not. I was never pretending.”

You took in a shuddering breath, as you dragged your eyes up to his. “I swear if I’m still stuck in the djinn’s fantasy universe…” but Dean didn’t let you finish your sentence, pulling you in for another kiss.

“Real enough, now?” He asked, a smile playing on his lips.

You shrugged, “Are you sure?”

Dean gave you a look. “I’ve been sure for a long time. You’re the only one who couldn’t tell.”

Gently, he pulled you back into his arms, your head resting on his chest.

“See, the bed was a good call.” Dean teased.

“Shut up.” You snapped, smacking his arm. You let a small silence fall between the both of you before you spoke again, “This still feels… weird, like surreal.”

“You’ll get used to me.” Dean chuckled as you laughed and he gently took your hand. “I love you.” He whispered.

You closed your eyes, shifting closer to him. “I love you too, Dean Winchester.”

——

Dean Tag List

@akshi8278

[emwritesfootball]

Her Majesty's Men 8 | Mason Mount

Word Count: 1,036

Warnings: there's finally sex

- - -

One Month Later.

You got home from work, sighing as you dropped your keys in the designated bowl and slipped off your shoes. The house felt quiet; empty, without Declan. He’d moved out and gotten his own place a week after the big showdown, and if you hadn’t found him packing up, you probably wouldn’t have even known it was happening. He didn’t speak to you except to let you know that he was planning on touring with Her Majesty’s Men and that he’d found his own place, the discussion so short he didn’t even tell you where he’d be staying. It was the most words he’d said to you since the fight, and now, three weeks after his move, you hadn’t heard a word from him.

You hadn’t spoken to Mason since that night, either. Everytime you thought about him, you got a little flutter in your chest. You’d promised that you’d go out with him, but you weren’t sure what he had planned.

Meanwhile, in Notting Hill, Mason was getting ready for one last show. Her Majesty’s Men were going on tour after that night, and Mason wasn’t going with them. He’d spent the last month getting everything in order: finding a job, upgrading his place, and making sure he was worthy of you. His friendship with Declan had all but fizzled out, his ex-teammate now his ex-friend. Declan was Stonesy’s new right-hand man, overseeing the rest of the men like some kind of crazed lunatic. Olivia - the girl behind the bar - was going with them, glued to Stonesy’s side like some sort of deranged fangirl, but Mason seemed to be the only one who saw that. Everything about this world was tainted for him now. Where he used to see glitz and glamour there was now dullness and lifelessness that filled him with dread. Mason had seen the best this group of men had to offer, but he’d also seen the worst, and the best just couldn’t outweigh the worst anymore.

The atmosphere was charged, heady with possibilities that didn’t include Money Mase. Everyone was staying, except Mason, and even though he felt more excluded than ever, he still had this one night left with them.

Costumes were set, dances memorised. It was time. Sexy Stonesy took the stage one last time.

“Ladies of London,” he started, somber. “You have been so good to us these last few years, and we love you so much. Don’t worry - we’ll be back. We’ve just gotta bring joy to the rest of the sexy ladies of England, but this place will always be home. So. One last time: please welcome Her Majesty’s Men!”

Mason wasn’t there to hear the cheers. He didn’t take the stage with Jacky Boy, Tarzan Ty, Happy Ending Harry, Big Dick Dier, and Dangerous Deccers started to dance while DJ Kyle spun. Instead, he got in his car and drove off to the one place that made any sense to him anymore.

“Did I wake you?” He asked when you answered the door, rubbing your eyes sleepily while wearing nothing but a t-shirt.

“I mean, yes, but no. What’s wrong? It’s not as late as you usually show up here. Did something happen?”

“I quit. Tonight was supposed to be my last night, but when Stonesy walked out on that stage...I just couldn’t do it. I’ve got a new job that I start on Monday, and I got a new place, and I’m here to ask you out. So, will you go out with me?”

“Yes, Mason, I’ll go out with you, but not for any of those reasons. I’ll go out with you because I want you. And, because I promised you that I’d go out with you the next time you asked.”

Mason smiled wide. “And if it goes well?”

“If it goes well, you’ll get your kiss.”

“And if I kiss you now instead?”

You chuckled, ducking your head as you bit down on your bottom lip. “Well, I wouldn’t complain…”

Mason took a step toward you, placing a hand on the back of your neck and pulling you into him. “Good, because I’m going to kiss you now. And then I’m going to take you to bed. Can you handle that?”

“Depends on how good you kiss me, Money Mase,” you sassed, smirking as you wrapped your arms around him and dragged him down for that kiss.

It was better than you’d been dreaming about. Since that almost-kiss months ago, it had been all you thought about whenever you thought about Mason. He kissed you gently but with urgency, leading you into your house and pinning you against the wall. You tugged at his shirt, giggling when he paused to remove it and reach for yours. It pooled with his, Mason’s hands sliding up your bare skin. You let out a moan as his lips attached to your neck, sponging kisses down to your collarbone. His hands roamed over your body, reaching to cup your ass and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist.

Mason carried you to the bedroom, both you smiling and giggling in-between kisses. He kissed his way down your body, paying attention to your tits and sucking on your nipples until you were begging him to go lower. When he put his mouth on your pussy, you cried out, arching your back and gripping the bed sheets. Since he’d last seen you, he’d buzzed his hair so you didn’t have anything to grab onto as he licked at your clit.

He pulled away, smirking triumphantly as he watched you writhe underneath him. Your gaze was focused on him as he pulled off his tearaway trousers, his cock already hard behind the g-string.

“You didn’t!” You gasped, your eyes lighting up as you watched him shake his ass for you.

“Money Mase has one more performance left in him, and it’s all for you, Angel.”

You sat up, reaching for him. “Tell Money Mase that his services can wait for another time. Right now, I just need Mason.” You pulled him down on top of you, reaching between the two of you so you could free his cock and slide it inside you.

<< series masterlist

[percywinchester27]

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-8)

Word count: 4.8K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: fluff, feels, cute stuff ;)

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: Aha! Here it is! The part a lot of you have been waiting for ;)

The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23​​​​​ I love you, Athina <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

“Someone had an interesting night,” Meg commented salaciously as you entered the apartment, eyeing the grey coat you were clutching tightly against your body.

Why she was up at two-thirty in the morning was a question you had stopped asking. It was how things were. She camped out in the living room most nights.

It had been a long night consisting of overthinking and multiple efforts to not break-down in the middle of a library. Now, your head was hurting from it. 

“That looks expensive,” she whistled, eager for your reply.

She did not get one. 

Tonight, you did not have the strength to explain anything. 

“Meg,” you said heavily. “Is it okay if I sleep on the couch, tonight? I- I don’t think I can fall asleep by myself.” 

“Sure.” She got up to make space for you, dragging her books with her on the carpet.

You removed your shoes and fell onto the sofa, rolling on one side and hugging your knees.

The coat had mostly stopped smelling like him, except for those faint traces and you clung to those forcefully.

Meg had a habit of reading out loud when she was memorising text. You had once challenged her to read without moving her lips and she had failed miserably at it. Kevin still made it a point to bring it up every now and then to tease. 

Her lulling voice, soft in the background was very comforting to you as you closed your eyes. Tomorrow would bring more questions than answers, you knew that. For now, you didn’t want to think about any of it.

********************************

27th August 2008

There was a certain trepidation as you stood on the porch of his house, hand raised towards the bell. What were you even doing? So Sam and you had been out for a couple more dates, that didn’t obligate him to spend every other day with you. So what if Ellen wasn’t home and Jo had a date. You could be by yourself for one evening, right? Restlessness shouldn’t be a motivator to land you in front of Sam’s house at seven in the evening. 

No, it was extremely impolite to barge into someone’s house without calling first. You fisted your raised, about to put it down, when the door opened. Dean Winchester stood on the other side, in his classic leather jacket, hands closed around the keys of his beloved car.

“Y/N!” He looked surprised at your unexpected appearance. Not that you blamed him.

You waved awkwardly. “I made muffins- remember, I promised I’d get you some on the day of the picnic?- and some apple pie. I was feeling keyed up and I thought I’d pay Sam a visit. I’m so sorry for showing up without notice, I know it’s not- “

“Y/N,” Dean cut you off. “Why’re you saying sorry? C’mon in!” He stepped aside to let you in, then grinned at you. “You had me at pie.”

The hallway was comfortably lit and paneled in dark wood, without any of those nonsense peony wallpapers that were a fad.”

“Aren’t you coming in as well?”

Dean shook his head. “I got a date with your cousin.”

Right. How stupid of you. You knew Jo was going out for a date… obviously it wouldn’t be by herself. 

“Sam’s in the living room, straight and left,” he said. “He can have all the muffins, but don’t let him touch that pie.” He winked at you before leaving.

You stared at the closed door, then at the basket in your hand. How had you managed to get yourself alone with Sam Winchester? There was still time for you to turn around and make a run for it, but the butterflies in your stomach kept pulling you towards the living room.

Sam was sitting cross legged on the sofa, bare feet, in a grey t-shirt and old jeans. Books were splayed around him, a laptop balanced on his right knee, eyes intently focused on the screen. From where you stood, you could only see his side profile and boy did he look handsome. The opportunity was too good to let go. You walked around quietly, placing the basket lightly on the floor and softly treaded to the back of the sofa. Slowly, you placed your hand on his eyes from behind. Sam jumped, the laptop almost crashing to the floor. His hand shot out reflexively to catch it, the other coming to rest over yours. 

“I’d recognise your hand anywhere,” he said.

“Dang it!”

He took hold of your wrist and pulled you around to the front, then tugged so you fell into his lap, the laptop lightly toppling on the sofa next to him.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure?” He whispered, one hand going around your waist, the other weaving into your cascading hair. You caught hold of his shoulders and dipped down to press your lips against his. The kiss was hot, passionate, as well as tender. Wherever his skin touched yours, the nerves were set on fire. Soon, you were gasping for breath. 

“The pleasure-” you breathed out, breaking the kiss, “- is all mine.”

Sam pecked the side of your face again, lips wet still. 

“I was literally just thinking about you,” he said, eyes staring at you in wonderment. “What’re you? A mind reader or something?”

You slid down slightly, so you were more comfortably seated in his lap. “Not a mind reader. I just missed you. I think I interrupted something important.”

He glanced at the ignored laptop. “Nevermind that. I was at wits end anyway.”

Normally, you would have jumped out of his lap. It felt so intimate to be sitting like this. However, Sam was snuggled so close to you, and so obviously unwilling to let go of you, that you didn’t make a move.

“What’re you up to?” You looked up at him.

“Remember when I told you I had to fly to New York, a few weeks back?”

“Yeah.”

“It was for an interview at this bigshot firm.”

You sat up. “Really? That’s great! How did it go?”

He frowned. “It went well enough. I heard from them yesterday. They are interested in hiring me as a junior associate.”

“But?” You could sense it was coming from the way his forehead furrowed.

“But, I don’t understand why they would wait for me to clear the bar and then join them. It’ll be a couple of months at least. It would have been easier to just reject me. I went for the interview because a senior from college set it up for me. I didn’t expect anything to come out of it.”

It was hard to believe that after everything he had achieved in life, he still had such self doubts. You attempting to tell him how exceptional he was would seem patronising, so you didn’t.

“Tell me something.” You snuggled closer and Sam automatically adjusted himself so accommodate you comfortably. “Do you want to work at this place?”

He looked at you and hesitated just for a second. In that moment you saw through him. It wasn’t the bar that was worrying him. He didn’t think that he couldn’t clear it. It wasn’t self doubt that was holding him back. It was reluctance. 

“It would be a good thing for my career.”

You decided not to push him on it.

“Then that’s that.” Reluctantly, you got up from his lap and straightened the laptop. “I have something for you.”

Sam perked right up.

You pulled out the muffins from the basket and handed him one, eagerly waiting for his response.

Sam moaned after the first bite. “These are delicious!”

Your gran was amazing at this, and you had taken up baking in your spare time now. It relaxed you to be around that aroma.

“Where’s the kitchen? I can put this in and leave, so you can continue with studying.”

Sam looked horrified. “No, no, don’t leave. Please!”

His eyes were wide, eyebrows just a little scrunched and lips almost moulded in a pout. The expression held some surprising power. It could crumble hearts.

You narrowed your eyes. “Are you… are you giving me puppy dog eyes?”

“Is it working?” He countered, a hint of teasing in his voice.

Like a frigging charm. You didn’t tell him that.

“Fine. I’ll stay, but you still gotta study, okay?”

Sam batted his eyelashes and you burst out laughing. “Now you’re just overdoing it. I’m just gonna put these in!” 

You wandered in the direction which he had pointed towards, wondering about how somehow that tall and built like a runway model could pull such an innocent expression. You put the pie in the fridge and the muffins in a box over the oven. The kitchen like the rest of the house was cozy and comfortable. 

On your way out you paid more attention to the rest of the room. At the far end there was a grand piano and behind it, a bookshelf in the same wood that panelled the hallway. You gravitated towards it. The piano looked polished, the keys slightly yellowed as if it was well played. The bookshelf was full of a crazy collection of books, from Kurt Vonnegut to Plato. Running your fingers over the spines, they stopped over a title. You pulled the book out.

“Sam?” You asked hopefully, returning to the sofa. “Can I borrow this book, please? My copy is still at Gran’s place and it’s my favourite. I swear I’ll treat it well.”

He flicked your wrist over to see which book it was, then shook his head indulgently. “Should have figured. Of course you can borrow it.”

“Thanks,” you smiled, flicking through the pages of the copy of To kill a mockingbird. “I was thirteen, I think, the first time I read it. Fell in love with Atticus.”

“I don’t think there’s a better fictional lawyer,” Sam mused. “It’s hard to live up to him.”

“Mhmm.”

Sam suddenly got up. “Where are my manners? Can I get you something? Coffee?” 

You took hold of his hand and dragged him down again. “I’m having trouble sleeping lately. Caffeine won’t help.”

His brow furrowed, however, he didn’t press you for a reason.

“How about I read to you from the NY Civil Code. That is interesting enough to put you to sleep for at least a week straight.”

You laughed. “It does look plenty interesting. You mind if I take a look at your notes?”

Sam spread his arms. “Knock yourself out.”

It was like being a child in a candy store, as you flipped through his books and notes. The text was complicated and the legal language seemed bafflingly difficult. There were bundles of notes in Sam’s thin, pointy handwriting. They looked very systematic even though you didn’t understand much. 

“It’s the basics of types of legal actions,” Sam supplied. “Difference between a plaint, suit, petition and a litigation.”

“What is it? What’s the difference?” 

Sam eyed you with some amusement. “You really want to know?”

“Mhmm.” This was something you had always wanted to talk about, but never had anyone to talk to. Of course you wanted to know more.

Sam flipped the pages of his book, till he found the one he was looking for.

“Alright,” he said, eyes bright with interest. “The easiest and most basic of all is a litigation. It simply means the process of taking any legal action. So, everything else, your suits, petitions, plaints and complaints, invariably everything falls under a broadly classified litigation. Now, a petition is a litigation filed to seek remedy in respect of any infringement of a constitutional right of the individual. The one who files it is the petitioner and the one it is filed against is the respondent. You with me so far?”

You nodded quickly.

Sam smiled. “Next one- and this is the one that’s going to make me money- is a suit or a lawsuit. The affected person files a suit in order to seek justice in respect of any civil right or claim they are entitled to. Here, the person who files the suit is referred to as the plaintiff and the persons against whom it has been filed is the defendant or the defendants, depending on the number of parties,” he cleared with a tilt of his neck.

Sam went on to tell you about the general magnitude of impact that both of them had once filed.

“So, a petition can be filed only against a government body, right? Because… only they can harm your constitutional right, cause they’re the ones who execute it.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “You’re kinda right. Petitions; specifically writ petitions are filed against public bodies, yeah. And suits against private parties. You’re really quick, aren’t you? I’m impressed.”

You bit your lip. “It’s not like that, you’re just a really good teacher.”

“Am I now?” 

The way he said it and the way he was looking at you, reminded you once more that you were alone in the house with him. 

“You should consider teaching,” you said, wiggling your hands in your lap. “You’d make an awesome professor.” God help the poor students who would have to concentrate on his words while looking at him. You surely would never be able to manage that.

Looking up, you saw that Sam blushing furiously. 

He was so bad at taking compliments! It made you fall deeper in love with him.

You jerked back at that thought. Love? Did you love Sam Winchester?

He cleared his throat. “Anyway, There’s also Public Interest Litigations…”

The words were lost on you now, as you reeled in the realisation. Was this how it felt to be in love? To have those butterflies constantly assault your stomach, to have your breath taken away from you each time he so much as even looked at you? As intense as it all felt, it wasn’t a bad feeling. Not at all.

“... so no one really cares about them in the Supreme Court.”

“Uhh… yeah.”

“You’re sleepy, aren’t you?” Sam asked dubiously. “I did bore you with all the legal talk.”

“No… no,” you denied, but at the same time you yawned. 

Sam laughed. “That’s alright. You can just lie down here and rest.”

You tried to protest but Sam cut you off. “When Dean comes back, I can drive you home.”

You were sleepy, sure. but it wasn’t because the subject was boring. It was because of how relaxed you felt around him. 

Finally, you gave in, leaning into the sofa. Sam adjusted himself so that your head rested in his lap. 

“Earlier when you asked about NY, I wasn’t being completely honest with you,” Sam said after a while. “I’m not sure about this job, Y/N. I thought it was what I wanted, but that was before.”

“What do you mean?”

His hand came to rest on your head, his fingers absently carding through your hair. 

“I thought a good job would make me happy. Coming back to Lawrence… It was like a wake-up call. It made me realise that the job would mean moving away from Dean for good. I mean with the way things are going with Jo, I’ll have to get my own place sooner or later anyway.”

You giggled. They did seem nauseatingly in love. It was all very cute.

“... then there’s you.” Sam’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to lose what we have. I know you’ll be moving to a University soon, but you’ll return to Lawrence for your vacations, to your family, and I don’t want to lose out on that.”

You caught hold of his hand that was in your hair and brought it to your lips, kissing his palm. You noted with shyness that goosebumps erupted on his skin on the back of his hand..

“Sam, do you think I’ll want to visit Jo and aunt El, and not want to see you? I’ve been so winded all day today- because I hadn’t seen you for two days- that I had to barge into your house. We can make this work. Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course, I trust you. It sure is a novel feeling. I’ve never had the reason to trust anyone because I wasn’t afraid to lose them. I feel like I’ve opened myself up to you in pieces and now I can’t put them all back.”

Strange. He was rendering words to the exact emotion of your heart.

“It’s settled then. You prepare for the bar and who knows I just might land a college on the east coast. Maybe we’ll be closer than we think.”

He sighed wistfully. “Maybe.”

You let go of his hand. After lingering for a few seconds over your lips, then your cheek, his fingers went back to your hair.

It was a lovely feeling, the scrapping of his knuckles against the base of your hair.

“Read to me?”

“Civil procedure?” He chuckled.

“Sure,” you smiled snuggling against his side. When he started reading, it wasn’t the civil code.

“Chapter one,” Sam read. “When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the elbow. When it healed, and Jem’s fears of never being able to play football were assuaged, he was seldom self-conscious about his injury....” 

You smiled to yourself, listening to your favourite book being read out loud. Sam’s voice was deep, husky, and you closed your eyes, taking in the words till they lost their meaning, and only his voice remained, soft and comforting.

“Who plays the piano?” You remembered asking sleepily. 

“I do,” he replied, after a pause, then went back to reading.

You were long removed from consciousness and the voices must have been part of your dream, or just part of your imagination.

“At least carry her upstairs,” Dean was saying.

“No, she might wake up,” Sam said. “I’ll just get my pillow and sleep on the floor here. Will you let Jo know that she’ll be staying over?”

“Sure.”

It could have been seconds later or maybe hours; you felt a soft pressure against your temple, and a whispered prayer. “I love you.”

********************************

Your alarm woke you up at seven am sharp. Meg was nowhere to be seen in the living room and the door to her room was closed. However, a soft blanket- one that you didn’t recognise- was pulled over your body. You were touched by the gesture.

It might have been a dreamless sleep, but having spent the night on the sofa had sure taken a toll on your back, the stiff clothes leaving imprints on your body. You looked down at the coat you were still wearing. What were you going to do with it?

You were definitely more level headed now about what had happened last night; were able to look at it more objectively without your emotions wrecking you apart. This had to have happened just when you had somewhat accepted the fact that Sam didn’t care for you. It hurt; it hurt each time he averted his gaze from you, but you had learned to live with it, live around it. 

Now you didn’t know how to live with even an ounce of affection he showed you. How pathetic was that? You had gone back and forth with yourself last night over whether you were mistaken about whose coat it could be. Each time you found yourself arriving at the same conclusion. It was definitely Sam. The color, the scent, it was all him.

The next question that arose was what to do with the coat. You couldn’t keep it after making sure that you had almost nothing left from that life. Hell, you’d never be able to concentrate on anything except the coat if it stayed with you. You couldn’t throw it away. Even the thought caused you pain. That left you with only one option- returning it to Sam, which was a whole new matter… and raised so many mind boggling questions of its own.

How were you going to return it? How were you going to bring yourself up to look him in the eye and talk to him after everything that had happened? And even if you managed to do all those things, what if he outright refused to acknowledge that the coat was his? You didn’t think you could live through that. To guess his harshness was one thing, but to be proven of it by facing him was another.

He had steadfastly refused to look at you all this while, and so far it had worked out for you. What if he looked at you with such hatred that it erased every memory of his loving eyes. Could you live through that?

You put your head in your hands, feeling a hollow in your stomach. One thing was clear to you, the coat had to go, and it had to go today.

It was with a subdued but determined face that you took a seat in Sam’s lecture. As was the norm, he ignored you completely. When the lecture ended you hurriedly got up, clutching your satchel to your chest. It was bulging full.

“Y/N,” Madison called. “The next lecture is cancelled, where are you going?”

“I… er… I had some work,” you said. It was good enough for Madison, but not so much for the girls behind her, particularly Rebecca.

“You’re coming for the party, right?” Rebecca asked, too sweetly. “You know, Maddy’s birthday party.”

Shit. It had completely slipped your mind that the party was this weekend. You had promised Madison you’d go. The idea didn’t appeal to you one bit, though. You’d rather just hang out with the apartment gang, especially since you weren’t working this weekend.

“Of course she’s coming,” Madison said confidently. “Aren’t you, Y/N?”

“Yeah.” No way you could get out of it without hurting Madison. She had been nothing but kind to you. You had to pay it back somehow.

Madison gave you a charming smile. “We’ll have so much fun.”

You doubted that to the highest degree, but now was not the time to dwell over that. You waved and left the room quickly, before anyone could ask you where you were headed. 

With a trepidation that made you feel like you were existing outside your body, you walked towards where you knew Sam’s office was. You could feel your every heartbeat individually as if it was being hammered onto your ribcage. Something was painfully lodged in your throat. It hurt to swallow. At every step you wanted to turn around and run away. Too soon you were in front of his glazed glass door. In silver etched letters, it read:

Prof. Samuel Winchester, J.D.

You knocked on the glass panel. Three quick raps. The ball of nervousness in your stomach made you want to throw up, but you held still.

“Come in,” came his voice from inside.

 With shaking fingers, you pushed the door and stepped inside. The door closed behind you. Sam was writing something, a hand held up apologetically, asking for a moment. With a flourish, he finished the sentence and looked up with expectant eyes. It lasted for a split second before they widened in shock. The exact expression from your first day at Stanford, the same one that had haunted you ever since. Pure shock.

What would you even call him? Professor Winchester? Sam? You weren’t sure if you still had that right on him.

He stood up, the chair scraping across the linoleum behind him. The sounds echoed even in the small room. The distance of a few feet felt like miles to conquer.

Mutely you pulled out the coat from your bag. It was unwashed and wrinkled. You walked up to his desk and offered it to him, eyes trained on the table. 

“Thanks,” you murmured.

For a horrified moment you thought he wouldn’t take it, but then he reached for it, gripping the fabric tightly and you let go, still looking down. 

You wanted to say something, anything because this silence, his silence was agonising. No words came to you, though. There was too much to be said, and no sentence seemed enough. 

His desk was organised; books neatly stacked on one side, papers arranged along a single edge. Two frames stood on his desk with their backs to you, and you wondered if someone you recognised was in one of those frames, if they were the same ones that he used to keep on his bedside. A smiling picture of him and Dean. The pang returned at the thought of Dean, and everything that you had left behind.

Slowly, you turned your back to the desk and the man standing behind it, certain that he wanted nothing to do with you. The coat had been a lapse of judgement, a moment of pity for someone he used to know, but didn’t care for anymore. He was just a very kind person. That was all it had been. All your upheaval since, had been for nothing.

You grabbed the handle and twisted it.

“Y/N.”

You would have cried. You would have let go of that handle, slid to the ground and broken down in that moment. 

For years you had beaten yourself down to accept that this would never happen. You would never hear Sam speak your name ever again. Now, it was happening. What was more? there was no anger in his voice, no hint of disgust. 

You dropped your hand and turned, his voice, your name still reverberating in your ears.

Sam looked as taken aback by his words as you. As if they had left his lips without his conscious consent. His eyes were clear, brow slightly furrowed. There was no harshness in his expression and none of that sharpness or hate.

He bowed his head a bit, like he was acknowledging some kind of defeat. Then, he spoke, voice as comforting as the warmth of your favourite rug on a stormy evening. “How are you?”

Like I haven’t truly breathed before this moment. Like the last six years without you, were a special torture created just for me. Like the very sight of you is a miracle and you saying my name a talisman against every misery I’ve ever lived. Like I haven’t been okay up until this very moment.

All the words that couldn’t be said. 

You merely shrugged, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from showing.

Sam dipped his chin and gave you a look that seemed to stare right into your soul, the side of his lips curving into a sad smile. 

Impossible. 

“H-how are you?” You whispered through a thick throat.

He shrugged, too, the smile still in place. It broke your heart to see a look of such profound sadness on his face.

You took a subconscious step ahead, wanting to run to him and throw your arms around him. What’s the worst that could happen? He would push you back? It still wouldn’t hurt as much as not being able to feel him right now.

You took a deep breath, almost taking a step-

The door to the office opened and you jumped, almost crashing into the stand. 

Professor Mills looked at you in surprise, then at Sam.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were busy,” she said.

Sam shook his head, as if clearing his thoughts; still said dazedly, “No, it’s nothing like that.”

“I was just leaving,” you mumbled, catching your breath.

She looked at you curiously. “You’re from the first year, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re the one who wrote the paper on semantics in legal writing. Y/L/N, was it?”

“Yes, Y/N Y/L/N.”

“She’s the one we were talking about, remember?” She asked Sam. “The one whose style reminded me of you.”

Sam nodded curtly, the tips of his ears turning red.

“That was a good paper,” she said. “Very impressive.”

“Thank you, professor,” you replied. “I’ll get going then.”

 You gave Sam a nod, “Professor.” And hurried out of the room as fast as you could. The hot air outside cleared your head and you stumbled into one of cement seating in the spill out space outside the offices. Had you really been about to throw yourself at Sam?

Most of you wanted to pass out from the intensity of that interaction, but a small part of you wondered if it really would have been that awful if you had actually followed your insane instinct and done it anyway. You sat there till your breathing returned to normal and you could feel your legs again. 

You took the first steps towards home.

Y/N. 

How are you?

He had called out to you and looked at you with the absolute certainty that only came from knowing the depth of someone’s soul. He didn’t hate you. As you walked, you felt lighter than you had in years, like the weight of the world had been lifted off of your shoulders. You could pick your feet up and they wouldn’t touch the ground again. It felt like being set free.  

*******************************

A/N 2: So at least the ‘not talking’ and ignoring is out of the way ;) Once you start, it is difficult to stop talking, I suppose. Especially when there are clearly still feelings involved ;)

Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who commented and reblogged. I love you guys!

PLEASE let me know what you think of this story?

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[n1sh1n0ya]

hewwo can i request kageyama, tsukishima, and akaashi with a s/o who asks to do their makeup for fun lolol or maybe their s/o asks the boys to do their makeup for them? thanks :3

Kageyama, Tsukki and Akaashi doing makeup and getting theirs done

a/n: thank you for requesting anon <3 this request was RIGHT up my alley,, i loved writing this so much 🥺

also i was jist about to get back into a regular posting schedule and then my laptop broke so i did this whole thing from my phone :')

Tobio Kageyama

i think that he would probably be pretty

i was gonna say pretty indifferent but that ⬆️ also applies

i feel like some guys would be too influenced by the whole mandatory toxic masculinity , but he barely knows the biological difference between male and female, never mind the standards some of them hold.

so he wouldn't go out of his way to get you to do it for him, but he wouldn't be totally opposed to it

it would be SO DIFFICULT to get him to stay still

like, if you go anywhere near his eyes, his reflexes take him a w a y from you lol

so it ends up taking you a lot longer than you originally anticipated, but tbh, getting your eye makeup done by another person is some scary shiz 🥴

when you're done, you go to take a photo with him, you've gotta show off your handiwork to your instagram, but he suggests that he should do yours as well

he would be TERRIBLE, but he tries his best 🥺

you have to explain to him what everything is, and what it does, MANY TIMES, and you're still not sure he knows the difference between mascara and eyeliner at the end of it

but oh well

he would be super scared of accidentally stabbing you in the eye, and you’re quite fond of your ability to see, so you resort to him just directing your hands near your eyes

you look like a HOT MESS when he's done, but his cute lil concentrating face close up to yours while he was doing it made it so worth it

he would totally do it again, and get a little better each time 🥺

Kei Tsukishima

he's the only one who's a strict no-go at first

like, the other two are just a bit skeptical, but he's flat out against it

it takes a LOT of time and convincing, maybe a little bit of bribery, but you get there in the end

he would be more calm than kageyama, being less full of athletic reflexes, but still, anyone would flinch away if someone else tries to do their eye makeup for the first time

he tries to play it off cool tho

"stop flinching away from me!"

"i'm not i'm staying perfectly still"

he says while a decent distance away from where he was a second ago

although he's NOT happy about you having to take his glasses off in order to get to his face, i mean if you're gonna be that close to him and looking that cute he wants to see you,, but nope he must be blind

but omg when you're done?? ksksksjsbd anon u chose like the 3 prettiest boys for this i cant 🥺

when you tell him to do yours in return, you're fully expecting to have to teach him everything, but you're pretty surprised when he kinda?? already knows??

he literally memorised what everything was for and where it all went while you were doing his and he REMEMBERS it all

he's super irritatingly good at things, so although he's still not the best at it, his first attempt was still WAY better than yours was when you started wearing makeup at first

make sure you don't tell him that though, or you'll never hear the end of it smh

the photos you take at the end will never see the light of day as long as Tsukki is alive, no matter how much strawberry shortcake you bribe him with, he is NOT chancing Kuroo and Bokuto seeing that lol

Askkashi Keiji

he's totally done his own makeup before

he's an eyeliner kinda guy, but he's super lowkey about it, so you might not even know yourself

he doesn't hide the fact that he's worn makeup before, but no one's asked, so he hasn't said anything about it

so he's a bit surprised at how shocked you look when he shows you his collection of eyeliner pencils and black nail polishes

you had better be ready to see him when you're done, because if you thought he was pretty before- 😳😳

mans looks straight up GORGEOUS

but he totally doesn't realise it, and won't believe you when you tell him just how pretty he looks

out of these guys, he's totally the best at doing yours for you afterwards

he KNOWS what he's doing, and ngl it kinda catches you a bit off guard

he's kinda lowkey better at it than you, but you'll be damned before you admit it to him

he would probably mind the least about you posting the photos online, and you bet there are comments from both Kuroo and Bokuto asking if you'll do theirs next

[agapaic]

tianshan drabble. 💞 created for Fay @nightfayre following her matched donation to Communities United Against Police Brutality. see here for more information. thank you so much to @fantasiapegasus for proofreading! 🌸 synopsis: guan shan receives an unexpected birthday present.

-

‘We’ll be late,’ He Tian says, the reminder only a little impatient.

Guan Shan’s lip curls. ‘I’m not rushin’ anywhere,’ he says. ‘Not today.’

He Tian holds his hands up, like catching his fingers on a burner, and says nothing. He’d bought them both bubble tea from the café in the apartment’s lobby that morning, and now he watches Guan Shan finishing his, which is cold and sweet. Guan Shan gives it a shake. Small tapioca balls drift around at the bottom, the colour and shape of pomegranate seeds, strangely tacky on He Tian’s tongue when he accepts the proffered remnants of the cup and tips his head back. He Tian puts the empty cup on the side of the kitchen counter.

‘Now can we go?’

Guan Shan narrows his eyes. ‘You know I fuckin’ hate birthdays.’

‘I know.’

‘You know I fuckin’ hate bein’ told what to do.’

A wry smile. ‘I’m very intimate with the concept.’

‘Bein’ told what to do or me hatin’ it?’

He Tian says, ‘Yes.’ He hands Guan Shan a light jacket; the day will be warm, but the mornings are still cool, and He Tian had bought the jacket for Guan Shan’s twentieth birthday a few years ago and still admires its fit.

The café they’re going to for brunch doesn’t take bookings, but they’ve made an exception for He Tian, and Guan Shan’s mother will be meeting them there. Ordinarily, they would spend the morning fucking and He Tian would fetch a box of hot sweet bread and fresh baozi from a breakfast stall down the street. They would watch Li Ziqi on Weibo for half the day, pretending they were somewhere beautiful in Sichuan, and Guan Shan wouldn’t mind if He Tian got crumbs on the sheets.

‘We can go there,’ He Tian would say. ‘Right now—I’ll take you.’

And Guan Shan would explain, in his own way, that there was no real desire in him for it; the want was brief and insubstantial. He wanted to live Li Ziqi’s life like he wanted mushroom jiaozi instead of shrimp, a bland preference. He wouldn’t mind either way which he got.

Today, He Tian hasn’t allowed for the simple pleasure of sex and food. Today, after a year, he can offer something more. He checks his messages on his phone as they ride the elevator down to the lobby, and Qiu has sent him a thumbs-up emoji. They’re good to go. He Tian feels a little sick, and his smile feels warped on his lips when Guan Shan catches his eye in the ceiling mirror.

‘What?’ Guan Shan murmurs. They’re alone in the elevator, but the need to lower their voices is instinctive. ‘You look funny.’

‘I’m just happy,’ He Tian says. ‘It’s your birthday.’

Guan Shan looks away. ‘Fuckin’ weirdo,’ he mutters, but the corner of his mouth is tight, like he’s holding in a smile.

‘You’re not excited to see your mother?’

‘We see her every week for dinner.’

He Tian shrugs. The elevator dings; the doors slide open. They walk out into the complex’s underground car park, and He Tian’s black sports car bleeps as he raises the keys. It doesn’t fit his emaciated salary of being a nightclub bartender, but the car is an element of He Tian’s family wealth to which Guan Shan doesn’t object.

Guan Shan argued once that it defeated the point of the underprivileged image He Tian has been working on cultivating since his father struck him off—which is true, in a fashion—but money still leaks from somewhere, and He Tian wears the marks of it like an oil stain.

They get in the car, and He Tian pulls out from the car park and into the bright mid-morning air, busy with gnats and birds and the muted twang of far-off city construction work. A blackbird flits across the windshield, and He Tian is careful as he eases onto the street.

‘So,’ he says, ‘if you could have anything—’

‘Have we gotta do this every fuckin’ year?’

‘—anything, Mo Guan Shan, what would it be?’

Guan Shan sighs. ‘A pony. Buy me a fuckin’ pony.’

‘Where would we keep it?’ He Tian asks, laughing.

‘I dunno. Where do the rich fuckers in this city keep them?’

‘In stables out of the city.’ Grimacing, He Tian adds: ‘They go riding on weekends, but hire an ostler for most of the year.’

Guan Shan’s expression is comical. ‘Tell me you haven’t.’

He Tian laughs again. ‘I haven’t, I swear. I only know ‘cause friends of the family used to have horses. Still do, I suppose. It’s the kind of thing you never leave, right?’

‘Like working for the mob?’

There’s a collective pause, and then He Tian says, ‘Wow, you really do hate birthdays.’

He catches Guan Shan wince, a token of regret. He hasn’t lashed out in a while, and they don’t talk about He Tian’s family—or its business—unless they can help it. Usually, it’s He Tian remarking on some old pastime he had to endure on his father’s orders. On even rarer occasions, Guan Shan mentions it when he's indulging in a particularly foul mood and their disparate upbringings become a tool only to set them further apart.

They drive for ten minutes in silence, and Guan Shan chews on a hangnail and flicks through radio channels before switching the system off entirely.

‘You know why I hate them,’ Guan Shan says. And then: ‘Sorry.’

He Tian knows. It was only revealed to him on a night out for Guan Shan’s eighteenth birthday. Guan Shan had been drunk, and cried in the taxi on the way back to his mother’s apartment, then threw up onto the pavement with his head hanging out the doorway after the driver stopped the car.

The story went like this: it had been his birthday when his father was arrested for fraud and associated gang activity; his parents had planned to close up early and make him a cake together in the kitchens, which they’d eat slice after slice until they felt sick. Instead, police had swarmed into the restaurant in riot gear, and Guan Shan had hidden under a table in a cleaning cupboard, memorising the labels on bottles of bleach until he had a headache from the chemical fumes and a uniformed woman with a face visor pulled him out by the wrist. He’d been five, and didn’t see his mother for four days. After everything, she’d known nothing.

‘Seriously,’ He Tian says. ‘Tell me what you want.’

‘Brunch with you and my ma.’ He Tian doesn’t look at him; he sounds frustrated. ‘I’m not gonna say I want him there ‘cause he’s not gonna be there.’

He Tian checks his mirrors. ‘Guan Shan—’

‘Yeah, yeah. Don’t wish for things you’re never gonna get. I’ve learnt my lesson, whatever.’

‘Actually, sweetheart, I was going to say we’re here.’

Guan Shan blinks. Gravel crunches beneath the tyres as He Tian eases the car into a parking space in the city hall’s car park. He pushes the pedal for the parking brake, and the engine turns off automatically. Obviously, they’re not at the café.

‘I don’t understand,’ says Guan Shan, and then he looks at He Tian. ‘I swear to fuckin’ god, if there are marriage papers waitin’ in there…’

He Tian laughs loudly, startled. The thought hadn’t occurred to him, but now he wishes it had. ‘No,’ he says. ‘Not today.’

Guan Shan glowers at him, and He Tian opens his car door. ‘Come on,’ he says, nodding his head. ‘Quick detour.’

He can hear Guan Shan muttering in furious debate with himself as he unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out the car, slamming the door a little too hard. His grip is white-knuckled in He Tian’s hand when he reaches his side, and He Tian smooths his thumb across Guan Shan’s knuckles.

‘You’re sweating,’ He Tian says.

‘I don’t like surprises,’ Guan Shan grinds out, then swipes at the sheen on his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket. ‘What the fuck are we here for?’

‘I told you—’

‘That was bullshit.’ Guan Shan only looks ahead, approaching the steps with a vague grimace of contempt. A woman and man stand at the entrance in bullet proof vests, cradling guns in their arms. ‘Sorry, but it’s bullshit.’

He Tian shrugs. He flashes a badge to the officials standing at the main entrance, and says, ‘Magistrates’ hearing.’

They’re allowed in.

‘What the fuck,’ he hears Guan Shan whisper, and then pulls him through when the officials step aside, wearing sunglasses and looks that are equal in severity. Inside, the glossy hallways are cool, and He Tian becomes aware of the swiftness of his own pulse, a staccato metronome. Guan Shan looks sharply at him as they head towards a part of the building that is marked out by signs on polished chrome stands that read ‘Magistrates’ Court & Legal Offices’. Everyone they pass wears a suit; the click of women’s heels on the marble tiled flooring is loud.

Eventually, they walk through a final hallway and out into a brightly lit atrium. Mid-morning sun filters down like they’re in a church, and it makes Qiu’s hair look bright and see-through.

‘The hell is he doin’ here?’ Guan Shan asks, voice wavering with nerves. ‘He Tian—’

‘It’s alright,’ He Tian soothes. ‘Trust me.’

He Tian nods at Qiu, who is standing before a huge set of closed wooden doors with metal rivets studded down each side. Briefly, He Tian entertains the possibility that Qiu is the gatekeeper to some celestial doorway, and he squeezes Guan Shan’s hand tighter.

‘They’ve just made the ruling,’ says Qiu. ‘It’ll only take a minute.’

He Tian nods.

As a three, they stand in silence. It is the silence of men who know that something is about to happen, but don’t know exactly what. Beside He Tian, Guan Shan is shaking. He Tian has lost some of the sensation in his hand, and his pulse aches at his wrist. When he glances at Guan Shan, he can see a bead of sweat run from the crop of red hair at his temple, and down the soft slope of his ear.

Please don’t throw up, He Tian wants to say, jokingly, but then he thinks that might trigger it.

Eventually, there’s sound behind the doors, like the scraping of chairs, and a man’s voice. The three of them stand to one side as they eventually open, and a strange breath of air flows from the room, cool and hot all at once. Inside, the courtroom is disappointingly small, and there are only a handful of people: a jury, the judge, the necessary legal representatives, and a man in a suit that might once have fitted him.

He can take the jacket off, He Tian thinks, and roll up the sleeves. It’ll do for brunch.

‘Oh, you fuck,’ Guan Shan says, the words an exhale. He’s not looking at He Tian. Really, the words could be directed at anyone. There’s a bubble of hysteria welling in He Tian’s throat, and he’s not sure if he wants to laugh or cry. He does nothing, and lets Guan Shan’s hand fall from his.

‘We got him a lawyer,’ he tells Guan Shan, standing at his shoulder, speaking quietly. ‘A better one. They won the appeal.’

Guan Shan nods, but He Tian knows he’s only half listening. His mouth has fallen open. There’s a taut line between his brows where they’ve drawn together and made a ridge. He looks like he’s in pain, and He Tian supposes he probably is. How many years has he looked at his father behind a grate, or smeared glass? Fifteen? Sixteen? He Tian knows it’s more.

He watches the moment Mr Mo’s gaze meets his son’s. There’s fear there—shame, too. Mr Mo’s lawyer whispers something in his client’s ear, pats a hand to his shoulder, then walks from the hall with his briefcase and a courteous nod in He Tian’s direction. His job is done; in an hour, he’ll send an invoice. Alone, the space between them some unchartered territory, Guan Shan takes an uncertain step forward.

Like a child, He Tian thinks.

After a moment, Guan Shan takes another, and another. He’s started crying. When they’re only a foot apart, he and his father stare at each other. It lasts a few seconds, until they both smile at the startled realisation: they’re the same height. Staying where he is, He Tian watches the embrace; he can’t hear the words that follow. Their mouths move the same; their eyes are deceivingly soft. He Tian presses down his envy. He catches the words birthday and red. Mr Mo’s hands gesture to Guan Shan’s hair, appraise his clothes with pride and something like fear.

He Tian waits a few minutes before he begins to move forward. He expects Qiu to hold him back, but Qiu doesn’t. Up close, the similarities between them are unnerving.

‘Dad, this is He Tian,’ Guan Shan says when He Tian reaches his side. He Tian doesn’t touch him, but he wants to.

‘I know,’ says Mr Mo, his voice gravelly with disuse and too many cigarettes. ‘We’ve already met.’

-

🌸 in the footsteps of @nightfayre ‘s wonderful initiative, i’ll be filling any drabble requests following a donation to help the fund for george floyd, the black lives matter movement, or any similar cause. please read here if you would like more information! ✨ 

[bluewritesao3]

The Handyman: New House & Pot Noodles

Word count: 2.9k

Pairing: Paz Vizsla X Fem!OC

Warnings: Non other than slight embarrassment and talk of car sex (I’m covering all my bases just in case)

Taglist: @maybege​, @legally-a-bastard​ @gallowsjoker​ 

A/N: for new or old readers this has been revamped as an x reader. simple because I’ve been finding it easier to write x readers than i have ocs recently. So please enjoy it and you can come scream at me if you like but don’t forget to reblog cause it helps more than likes do.

Gif credit: @hanyuume​

Masterlist | Posted on A03

“Remind me why people move houses?” You whined into the phone wedged between your shoulder and your chin as your co-worker’s laugh sounded through the receiver. “Seriously Jadu. Meetings with the publishing team are more fun.” You scolded pulling another cardboard box marked with ‘kitchen’ in messy sharpie closer to you. You thought there was something wrong with the house or the neighborhood when you originally saw the shockingly low offering price for the house.

With the heavy cardboard tucked under one arm, You singlehandedly heaved it onto the kitchen counter and sliced through all the packaging tape with a box cutter that was wobbly at best. “It's new and sometimes it’s hard, Y/N/N. Remember college-“ Jadu spilt down the phone regaling you with the tale of how he’d walked into their shared accommodation while you were in nothing but a towel. “There's also that midnight romp-“

“I’m going to hang up if you continue.” You scolded as you began to unpack the kitchen box. “But still. Who thinks that car sex is comfortable? I’m sure the searing wheel was trying to merge with my spine.” You joked remembering how the thing had dug into the small of your back and no amount of kissing and touching could distract you from that. Slowly you floated around the small kitchen storing everything away into its proper place, eventually, the house was beginning to look lived in and to like it had sat empty for what the estate agent had described as years.

Glancing at the circular dining table, it had several boxes piled onto it dangerously. You’d chosen to take the majority of moving and reorganising yourself since the other things you were bringing with you was kitchen, bedroom, bathroom and your office. “Still can’t believe you moved out to the middle of nowhere into an almost fully furnished house for dirt-cheap.” Jadu muttered, taking charge of the conversation and expressing his distaste for the house and ‘energy’ around it. You rolled your eyes, and you disposed of the phone on the kitchen counter and hit the loudspeaker button as you tuned to start flattening the cardboard box out while listening to Jadu ramble on about how the photo’s he’d seen of the house were everything but welcoming and that the energy levels were out of ‘whack’.

You muttered quietly to yourself as you went in search of the crumpled water bottle from your bag leaving Jadu to his ramblings even if he believed his concerns were justified. “Have you ever met your neighbours?” Jadu’s recognisably brash tone echoed through the newly packed away kitchen.

You stopped threshold into the kitchen as you took a more than generous gulp from the water bottle, the question had sparked a memory for earlier in the day. “Honestly I’m surprised the neighbourhood welcome committee hasn’t made an appearance.” You chuckled, picking up the phone and placing it on top of the two boxes titled ‘Bedroom’. “How are things at work anyway?” You asked, seeing as you’d now become part of the growing percentage of people working from home.  

You listened to Jadu sigh heavily and began talking about how he was missing out on stuff because the company wasn’t allowing him to have as much time off as he used to but given that he worked with a very picky publishing team then it was expected that his workload was almost never-ending. “I mean someone in publishing is giving me a deadline for editing a manuscript that doesn’t belong to one of their clients. Do you see my issue here?” Jadu complained, sounding as if he was passing through the seven stages of grief and got stuck somewhere between bargaining and anger.

You hummed quietly as you ascended the stairs of the old house with a cardboard box under your arm and the other waiting at the bottom of the stairs for when you made the next trip. “Is it Nyla? She’s department head and might be very aware of how ‘quickly’ you zoom through stuff.” You smirked hearing the hefty huff from Jadu on the other end of the phone, Jadu had a pension for leaving some projects till the last minute and then pushing them onto someone else days before the deadline. “Speak of the devil…” Jadu began and added a hurried ‘I gotta go’ before he hung up the phone. Shaking your head, you laughed a little as you stood in the doorway to your bedroom. Whoever lived there previously had removed the door and hadn’t bothered to replace it. The room was sparsely decorated, missing a door and the pastel-painted walls made you want to throw something but at least the mattress looked like it didn’t have any funky-looking stains or weird smells and the rest of the furniture was intact.

“I have to get a bedroom door.” You breathed, settling on the mattress with the box next to you as you fell backwards and released a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. “I have to get food too.” You lamented the idea of your fridge being empty then takeaway sounded good, but you didn’t know what the local one was. “Guess I need to go to the store.” You huffed checking the time on your phone trying to decide if it’s worth going food shopping.

*

You revealed in the fact that her local grocery store wasn’t a long trek into town, the small grocery store felt like a glowing beacon in the afternoon of the quiet town. Stepping through the automated door, you immediately hesitated not knowing where anything was and almost scolded yourself for thinking that the store's layout was the same as the ones back home. Grabbing a basket, you set off on a small journey looking for anything that looked like it took the least amount of effort and time.

With time you came to know the store and tried to memorise the layout in case you’d need to make another trip during the week. You wandered through the aisles glancing at almost every shelf looking for the next thing on your list of foodie wants. “There you are,” You muttered as you settled your gaze on multiple packages of hard candy, heart stones, they were lightly spiced with cinnamon and reminded you of home and your grandparents, when they used to sneak you a packet every time they visited. “Wasn’t sure if I’d ever find you here.” You whispered to the packs of candy before hucking a total of six of the fairly small packets into the basket along with the pot noodles.

Pulling yourself away from the shelves you continued down the aisle and tried to mentally tally up the contents of your basket before colliding with something solid, sending you back a few steps. “Oh, sweet Jesus.” You yelped, almost giving yourself whiplash as you took in the tall mountain of a guy you’d bumped into. “Sorry about that. Didn’t see you there.” You apologised smiling brightly, as you readjusted your grip on the basket. The washed-out dark blue sweatshirt with a faded with a washed-out college emblem was the first thing that caught your attention simply because it took up most of your vision then it was the sheer size of the guy, he was almost as tall as he was wide or as your grandmother would have put it, he was built to last.

“You alright?” He asked, looking slightly panicked with a large hand extended almost like he was ready to catch her as if she was going to fall. You nodded, muttering your apologies and glanced over your shoulder at the elderly woman at the other end of the aisle seemingly waiting for them both to move. “No harm done.” He smiled and you had to almost choke on the almost inhuman noises trying to escape you. In your head, you were muttering about how downright adorable the guy’s smile was and how stupid you were for saying you didn’t see him there. He’s probably tall enough to change your lightbulbs without a ladder. “Dude how tall are you?” You rushed out before you could grab the words and push them through a verbal processor. Hearing a bassy chuckle rumble out of the man and you joined in almost embarrassed and awkwardly, feeling a warmth radiating from your cheeks and ears. “I’m sorry that’s weird. I’ll be going now.” You motioned as she stepped to the side and the tall guy followed, stepping in front of her again, you stepped to the right and he almost panicked he swapped sides and you unconsciously followed. They both dissolved into a side-to-side step dance almost everyone did at least once in their life.

Ducking down trying to hide the slight flush warming your skin as you glanced over your shoulder at the elderly woman whose shoulders were quietly quacking as she muttered to the teenage boy holding up the seemingly overflowing basket in both hands. “Attracted an audience, haven't we?” The tall guy observed, and you tossed a half-hearted glare at him as you tried to almost disappear into the shelves. “I’m 6’5 by the way.” He muttered sliding past you and went on his way deeper into the relatively small grocery store.

Almost like you were on autopilot, you wandered back towards the front of the grocery store to pay for your questionable food shopping. You attempted to make small talk with the young 17-year-old pottering about behind the counter, but it wasn’t returned and you marked it up to being wary of newcomers. “Thank you. Have a nice night.” You thanked lifting the plastic bag off of the counter and began the journey home.

*

“I am so fucking stupid,” You half yelled, and half sang into the silence of your entry hall. “How is that the first thing I say to someone.” You continued tossing your keys on the smallish storage cabinet to your left knowing the Jadu would tease you with the knowledge for eras to some. Muttering to yourself and wandered back into your barely lived-in kitchen and slammed the nondescript shopping bag on the counter and began making one of the pot noodles and tossing the rest of them into the cupboard above your head.

Still feeling the heat of your embarrassment you deflated slightly and leaned against the counter. “Dude how tall are you?” You question yourself again with a hint of disbelief even though you were sure that the guy's hands could easily cover your face. Robotically, you grabbed the kettle and began making your pot noodle, you‘d barely gotten the fork in your mouth when a soft knocking sounded against your front door. “Who in the hell.” You muttered skittering towards your front door leaving the pot noodle on the counter, the small strip of frosted glass on either side of your front door did little to give you an idea of who was standing on the porch.

Pulling open the door, you stood in your socks searching an empty porch for who' knocked on your door. Already you thought the neighbourhood’s kids were playing tricks on you. Moving to step on to the porch almost kicking into something warm and injuring yourself. You glanced down at the warmth on your toes, a Tupperware container sat close to your front door you were surprised that you hadn’t put her foot in it when she stepped out the door. “Um hello?” you greeted the container sceptically as she crouched down to collect it. “Thank you f-for the soup?” You thanked and questioned the container as you curiously tilted the container from side to side watching the soupy liquid inside move with your movements.

As you stepped back into your house you wondered if whatever was in the container would keep till tomorrow. Heading back into the kitchen you placed the container on the counter and unfolded the piece of paper taped to the side of it.

‘Hi, I live across the street and since you’re new here. And I guessed your fridge was probably empty, so I made a little extra broth and packed it up for you. Don’t worry it’ll keep till tomorrow just put it on the stove on medium heat for 20 minutes or in the microwave for the same. Welcome to the neighbourhood - Omera’ The note read, and you smiled at the kindness of Omera, a woman you’d yet to put a face to, while stuffing another fork full of pot noodle into your mouth, you tucked the note back into its original place and stored the container of broth away in her empty fridge.

*

You released a huff as you tried to make yourself taller to reach the bathroom windows handle, the steam from your most recent shower was so dense that it just didn’t want to dissipate and with a tight grip on the counter, you doubled your efforts and finally got the window open. With pride in your step, you wandered into your new bedroom with your toothbrush hanging out of your mouth as a familiar ring tone pierced the quiet of your bedroom. Without looking, you answered the phone and set it on loudspeaker, “Hello, you're on loudspeaker.” You garbled out as you rinsed your mouth out and placed your toothbrush by the sink. “Do you know how many times I’ve called you!” Your mom yelled through the phone and you visibly cringed at the sharpness in your mother’s tone, the woman was a force to be reckoned with when she wanted to be. “Anything could have happened. Are you sure the neighbourhood’s safe enough?” Your mother rattled on worrying about you even though you were in your 30’s with a stable income and living alone.

Smiling at the sentiment you grabbed your phone and climbed into the bed. “I’m fine Mom. The neighbourhood seems safe enough. I mean aren’t the estate agents legally obligated to tell me if it wasn’t.” You muttered as you settled crossed legged at the head of the bed, the weirdly comfortably headboard cushioned your back as you leaned back into it and the pillows to get comfortable. “What’ve I missed first? Is Dad still looking for work?” You asked as you placed the phone on the pillow next to you, warmth filled you as you silently listened to your mom explain how another nameless auntie had a baby, another cousin getting engaged and how your step-dad, Lanth; a man who’d worked the majority of his life, still refuse to take his retirement and you didn’t think he’d ever actually take it at this point.

“You know how Lanth is. Honestly, I’m starting to think I married a 20-year-old in an old man’s body.” Your mom explained you smiled at the warmth you heard in your mom's voice and when you’d originally met Lanth you’d been sceptical as every teenager was of their parent's new boyfriends or girlfriends. “But enough about us. What about you? Hm. How’s the new house?” Your mom asked, sounding as eager as you had when you’d originally agreed to drive out to meet the estate agent and view the house.

Reaching behind you to prop up the pillows a little and pull the clean sheets over yourself, you sighed a little, feeling a wave of tiredness trying to overtake your body. “Nevarro’s housing market hasn’t inflated like the rest of the states but honestly I’ve been waiting for someone to tell me that it's haunted or in a bad neighbourhood.” You stated relishing in the soft fresh scent of your sheets in comparison to the musty old smell the other ones had. Your mom's voice was muffled on the other side of the phone as if she was talking to someone or left the TV on a little too loud. “The pastel bedroom walls make me want to throw something...but what are you whispering about?” You questioned yawning halfway through the sentence as you slowly began to settle down for the night.

On the other end of the phone, your mom sighed heavily, and it was the tell-tale sign that usually came before news that you wasn’t going to like. “Lanth said there's a Mandalorian settlement out that way and that you might want to be careful.” Your mom explained, concerned and a little off as if she was relaying what was being said to her. You hummed in agreement; you knew not all of Lanth’s people were the same, but they were best approached with caution just in case. “Anyway, I’ll let you go. Goodnight. Love you baby.”

“Goodnight. Love you both.” You smiled into your pillow as you heard the baritone of Lanth through the phone telling her to sleep well and to be careful. You watched the screen blink a few times telling you that your mom had hung up the phone, sleep tugged at you as you pulled the sheets up under your chin and glanced around the bedroom one final time to centre yourself. “I still have to get a door.” You muttered staring at the dark abyss of the hallway before rolling over and trying to ignore the unsettling inky darkness but with the bedside lamp on you slowly began to drift off into a slight sleep.

[coralstudiies]

SURVIVAL GUIDE & STUDY TIPS

hello everyone!! this post is a collab with the lovely and amazing @boinkhs because we've both reached 2k followers :D she'll be doing study tips for college students and i'll be doing study tips for high schoolers. check out her post here!

i've split this into part 1. survival, which concerns how to study & learn better in general and just tips on how to get through high school. part 2. is on specific study tips for each type of subject, namely sciences, maths, languages and humanities.

Hope this helps <3

1. Don't snooze please

you just end up snoozing 5 times then you’re late for school

2. If you find you have difficulty getting out of bed, just keep in mind ONE TASK you need to do.

for example, making your bed. then you just gotta focus on that! it should help fight the sleepiness because you’re forcing your brain and limbs to be active.

3. Do the necessary things like brushing your teeth, putting on clothes and eat breakfast

i don’t know why but some people don’t eat breakfast before coming to school like ???? excuse me ???? please eat at least a small snack, or a fruit or something. your body doesnt function on an empty stomach! also, drink some water to hydrate yourself

4. On the road, you should do something that puts you in a good mood.

for me, i go straight to spotify and listen to my playlist. you should also review the previous day’s learning so that you refresh your memory before going back to class. personally this is my fav part of the day HAHAHA

5. If you like, you can choose to read a book.

just make sure you’re calm but ‘warmed up’ to focusing in a sense.

1. Hydrate frequently

idk man it just keeps you awake + i dont feel so icky if i drink enough water

2. Learn actively

if the teacher asks questions, try to answer. sit at the front row. offer to help give out the worksheets or notes. clarify your doubts after. when they speak, copy down notes. don’t worry about the aesthetic; i mean you can but you need to write fast and neat which unfortunately doesnt come together very often. i suggest you spend more brain power digesting and understanding the content.

3. Don’t over highlight

ONLY KEY POINTS that are stressed by the teacher. you can tell when their tone changes, expression changes, when they use more hand motions, or they keep repeating a few key words. yes , that. highlight that. stare at it while listening to them speak. make sure you understand. if you don’t please ask. but make sure you don’t have a fluorescent page because that’s not ideal study material!

4. Write down any questions you have

if they’re answered in the lesson, cancel them off. if not, ask after the lesson. dont be scared! *sends virtual courage*

5. Use whatever free time you have to finish homework

because you’re gonna thank yourself later. you should spend more time at home revising than doing homework. ( doing homework isnt equivalent to revising PLEASE I KNOW SO MANY PEOPLE WHO SAY THEY REVISED FOR 3 HOURS BUT ALL THEY DID WAS HOMEWORK ) also it feels better knowing you have one less thing to worry about

6. Record down all assignments, due dates and test dates

do it in a planner or your phone. doesn’t matter just keep them somewhere. it can be demoralising to see an entire entry of shit to get done but still it’s better than not knowing what needs to be done. ignorance is NOT bliss. try to color code or symbol code them, for example • for assignments (due date behind), - for tests etc. act on this when you go home (see below)

7. Have a file/binder some form of organisation to keep different subjects’ worksheets, tests, notes, reading etc.

you can have one massive binder, one binder for each subject, one folder file for each subject or anything that suits you. for me, i clip all materials of one subject together with a binder clip. the materials i use most are at the front for easy reference. then put those bundles into zipper files, perhaps one for math and sciences, another for languages and humanities. or whatever suits you best! make sure you have everything in one place so you don’t panic and dig through a pile of dog-eared paper.

8. If you can, when it’s near the exam period, don’t stay back after school unless it’s to study.

i used to stay back for training and to play volleyball with my friends and i kid you not we would play from 2pm to 6.30 pm and get nothing done but it was fun. and i’m not saying deprive yourself of that fun but when the exams are near, you should be studying somewhere quiet/ somewhere you can focus. you should go somewhere (preferably home) where you can focus and get things done.

9. Decide if you’re a lone wolf or if you need a study buddy/study group

personally i’m a lone wolf because i hate distractions and i don’t want to distract others. but when my friends ask me for help i don’t mind staying back a little to teach them and/or study with them. Personally i find that for subjects like english which require you to write about an array of topics, studying with someone else can help in generation of essay points and to just broaden your understanding of the topic. so yeah it really depends, just do what suits you :)

10. Take notes in class

try to understand while copying, and if you didn’t understand something, you should raise your hand and ask for the teacher to repeat so that you hear it again. also, it gives you more time to take notes as they re-explain the content. read them after the lesson is over to help internalise some facts. you can create your own method of organisation for your notes, e.g. colour coding.

1. Review the day’s learning on the way home.

if you take public transport, try to flip through your notes and worksheets to review new content for the first time.

2. Eat lunch, have a snack, take a shower, everything that’s necessary.

if you use your phone while eating, make sure you don’t eat slowly just to use your phone because that’s wasting time.

3. If you’re super tired, just have a 15-20min power nap

nothing more otherwise you will NEVER wake up until the dead of night. just take a nap to get some energy back. doesnt matter if you wake up feeling more tired, because you’ll shake that feeling in a while. keep a glass of water beside you so that you can drink it once you wake up!

4. Look through your ‘list’ that you made earlier in the day. (in class, pt. 6)

you might want to spend max 10 mins updating your schedule. then stare at the dreaded homework. start with the easiest and least time consuming to build up momentum. this could actually be the remainder of what you’ve finished in school. then look at the due dates. do them in order of due dates. unless it’s a huge project or assignment, you might want a head start on it!

5. With the remaining time, you should start revising

review the day’s learning AGAIN.

make notes/mindmaps/flashcards whatever works for you. you should prioritise the subject or chapter that you were most confused about. quickly revise and try to clear up any questions you have about the chapter. if you have additional time, go ahead and make notes for the next subject! another way is going through corrections and clarifying your doubts with friends/teachers, and summarise the day’s learning on a post-it or two. if you’ve already taken notes in class, look at other sources e.g textbook and combine what you’ve learnt before re-writing or re-organising your notes.

1. Pack your bag!

remove unnecessary materials, and pack the necessary one. make sure your bag isnt too heavy. you can choose to hand carry some files or binders if they’re too bulky, but make sure you’re all packed before the next morning

2. Have a meal & clean up

again, basic necessities. don’t go to bed hungry or feeling icky because thats not how you treat yo self!

Before class:

if you’re going to continue on a chapter, review the content that came before it. Try to make your own connections between the already learnt and to-be learnt content so that you’re mentally ready for class.

In class:

take down notes, highlight, annotate and DRAW DIAGRAMS. you can’t do sciences without diagrams. for physics or chemistry which require more calculation, copy down the problems your teacher goes through and solve them along with him/her. write the formulas on a post it note so you can stick it onto the page where you’re writing for easy reference. if the teacher plays a video which is MOST DEFINITELY NOT GOING TO WAIT FOR YOU you have to write only the relevant points in the most abbreviated form possible.

Note-taking:

I find that linear notes help me most in sciences. for chapters that involve lots of interconnected processes, for example o chem, then mindmaps or flowcharts will be helpful. also if you tend to forget something, post-it that stuff on the front page of your notes where you are FORCED to stare at it. yes. write down example problems and their steps, then write explanations for each step so that if you’re confused you can always refer back. again, draw any required diagrams.

Answering techniques:

if there’s a ‘standard’ way to answer it then you have to make sure you follow that way even in your homework because it’s muscle memory. when you get to exams, your hand will automatically write in the same format so you don’t lose marks or spend time recalling the correct format.

imo sciences are quite logical so as long as you remember and follow the flow you’ll be fine!

In class:

copy key terms, facts and examples and write all examples that the teacher has gone through. write all formulas and definitions on a post it, then shift it around the pages as needed. if there’s a type of problem you particularly suck at, ask your teacher for help IMMEDIATELY because it’s so easy to forget the steps to a problem.

At home:

do your homework, do additional practice, correct your mistakes, clarify, and repeat. memorise formulas and definitions (perhaps using flashcards or post its) then practice more and make sure your concepts are strong. there’s no easy way and sadly this is all i can comment.

In class:

copy down notes, think actively, and if you’re given a sample essay you should annotate the heck out of it and keep it somewhere safe.

For essays:

read up more and write up. befriend the best writer in class and ask for their essays. write essay plans and consult your teacher. brainstorm possible approaches with friends. read the news, and copy the links of interesting online articles for future reference. have a go-to list of examples and quotes you can use, for any and every topic. read these like your bedtime story and never forget to keep updating them.

For comprehension passages:

read the questions first. then you’ll be more sensitive to what you need to read in the passage and how you need to analyse it. try to question yourself about how and why the author does something or makes you feel something. do not rush-read the passage or you will fail horribly (personal experience). do one or two extra comprehensions and ask your teacher to mark them.

In class:

ARROWS TO LINK EVERYTHING and annotate any class notes given. write down new examples provided by the teacher. if there is a link you ‘can check out’ go check it out. it’s probably something thats gonna be on the exam.

At home:

you have to rely on mindmapping and flow charts because everything is linked in some way and you cannot ignore those links!!!! although i do my humanities notes in linear form, my in class notes are all in the form of mindmaps. and actually i revise from those in a pinch because i can see everything at one go. watch vids on the concepts, for example plate tectonics. those things are so hard to see when they’re deadass sitting on the page and not budging. watch a video where they really move instead of being frozen.

If you’re so frickin lost:

watch more videos on the concepts, watch more videos on the events, search up interpretations online and ask your teachers!!! for everyone who gets equally lost as me when i’m faced with a new chapter, another way is to pre-read before the teacher starts teaching. if you’re lazy to read just watch a couple clips on it so that at least you have some background. even if you wake up the next day with 0 concrete memory, which you won’t, you’ll already have the flow of things which will help you if you’re usually the straggler.

(disclaimer i study geography although i've tried history and english literature but i think that they're similar to some extent, especially on how to study them)

[randomguywithwords]

As The Dust Settles: Chapter 19 (Geten X Dabi Slowburn)

Chapter 19: Old Chains

AO3 Link

Previous Chapters: 18, 17, 16, 15, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

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The girl bowed and left the room in a hurry, nearly tripping over her feet as she did so. Geten watched her go, her lips pursed. Her behaviour reminded her of that messenger at her lodgings, but while she had smirked at the boy’s cowardice just a few days ago, she felt uneasiness coil around her stomach. 

Do they all look at me like that? How long has it been since I’ve been in the city? 

She rarely ever walked down a street, not having any need to with her cryokinesis. Transporting herself with her ice was much preferable to reducing herself by commuting alongside the other soldiers in the MLA. The few times she interacted with them...they always had the same look on their faces. 

She put those thoughts aside and returned to an even more unpleasant subject: the book in her hand that she had requested the girl bring to her. It was familiar to her like a mother to her infant. The same indented red cover with its engraving of the symbol of the MLA. The same title emblazoned with gold. 

Meta Liberation War. 

She knew the book back to front. If prompted by anyone, she could recite the pledge, the paragraphs or the sign off by Destro in a heartbeat. She had spent years memorising every key sentence, every declaration made by the founder of the Army she belonged to, and so on.

So why am I holding it in my hand?

Well, for one, she needed something to keep her distracted while she was stuck in the hospital ward, thanks to a certain fire-user and a dumb pact made just an hour or so ago. 

“Ok, five day hospitalisation, doc’s orders.” Dabi turned to leave the room. 

“No, I’m leaving tomorrow,” Geten shot back, crossing her arms. 

“Uh huh, because you’d be fully recovered, right?” 

She paused, searching for a retort. “You can’t make me stay here.”

Even to her, it sounded childish, and Dabi’s choked laughter told her he was thinking the same way. “Tell you what, what’s your favourite food?”

The question caught her off-guard. She blinked twice, wondering if that question came from him. “I don’t have one.”

“Bullshit. Everyone has one.”

“Unlike you, I’m not that much of an adolescent to show preferences for food. I eat whatever’s there.” 

“It’s something cold, isn’t it? Soba?” 

“How – wha –” She spluttered. “No, no it’s not.”

“You chill here until Friday, and I’ll get you soba.”

“Even if I did like it, I could just get it myself.” She was hoping her expression wasn’t betraying how much she liked the noodles. 

“Not in Deika City, obviously. You think this shithole has any good food?” 

“We can’t just leave –” Her exasperation was overpowered by his when he cut her off with, “Do you want the soba or not?”

A spasm of pain coursed through her ribs, causing her to wince. “Fine,” She muttered, and sat down on the bed. 

“See you Friday then. My god, you’re stubborn.” He left and shut the door. 

The memory, fresh in her mind, was oddly warming to think about, while the metal-engraved title of the book felt cold to the touch, pulling her back to the present. 

The second reason was repetition – too much of it, that is. She compared it to her mastery over her meta ability made it a part of her, that she barely gave a thought whenever she levitated ice. Likewise, she could recant any part of the book with no hesitance. But even though I speak the words out loud, how much thought have I given their meaning?

She flipped open the book. Destro’s words filled Geten’s head like a lullaby a parent might sing to their child, not that the young woman knew what that was like. 

“I am not in a prison. I am in solitude, and in this solitude have I found solace…” She read out loud to herself in the ward. It was habitual to do so, but as she kept reading, her voice trailed off as she studied it, and a growing void inside her gnawed at her heart. 

I dream of a society where the use of our meta abilities is uncontrolled, as the great power that granted the human race this blessing intended. It was, and is, and will always be, a gift. Yet it is also a responsibility to bear. We must show the world the truth the governments try to conceal. They pass human laws that goes against the natural law. I, and my army, tried to show them this truth, but it is with great regret and sorrow that I announce an obstacle in our path towards destiny. My incarceration. 

 …

Strength is survival. Strength is our meta abilities, and honing them to perfection, achieving what we called “apotheosis” in the ancient past. To become god-like. 

“And yet, you died, Destro,” Geten murmured. “And still we...we honour and revere you…” The void grew larger. 

The journey unto death is one I will undertake after I finish writing this, but know that death is not the end for us. While I concede death is a frightening concept, I encourage you to believe that it is an inspiration for others. To die in battle is honourable. I only wish I had done so, but what has happened is set in stone. My death is a protest to the laws that chain us, but it is also your empowerment, to do what I could not. 

“Death,” Geten whispered, the word tasting like poison on her tongue. She remembered both times she was one thread away from it: the barrel of Trumpet’s gun pointed at her, and the fists of Takame. In the first, she was not in combat. It would have been an assassination, would it not? And in the second…

Her chest hurt at the thought. She felt no honour, only emptiness and fear, knowing what the Liberation Army had done to her attacker’s family, and knowing her death was imminent. 

Is it possible that Destro had feared death as well? 

The reminder about Takame’s wife brought her to flip the pages to the section on the powerless, or, as Destro put it...

It is not some genetic disorder as the men in white coats would tell you. They are simply the unfortunate ones to not have received this gift. Pity them, for they, the outcasts, deserve your pity. 

“Mihara…” She looked just like her. If she was wandering around Deika City, Geten would have thought she was some ordinary soldier. An ordinary person, even. How was she an outcast? Why did the MLA start hunting down the quirkless? Out of pity? They deserved it?

She slammed the book shut as the image of her dead body appeared in her mind. She drew deep breaths to calm herself – had she been hyperventilating this entire time? Her fists were trembling, blood pounding in her head in anger of it all. 

The agony was a python writhing on her chest while old memories resurfaced from the aching in her brain. She remembered what Re-destro taught her, and how he did it. 

A growl rose in her throat. 

Kicked. Starved. Left alone to fend for herself, in the name of “liberation”. Everything that she did. Everything that was done to me, was in the name of liberation, but it shackled me more and more. 

“Gah!” She flung the book across the room and buried her head in her hands. 

She sat there upright on the hospital bed for some time, the silence screaming all the answers she did not want to hear, but had to, to her. 

“You don’t find anything wrong with that?” Dabi had said on the plane. She remembered his countenance, a mixture of irritation and pity, whenever she spoke about the MLA. She had chalked it up to the arrogance of the victorious, or just a dislike of her, which was mutual then, so it never bothered her to think further. The pieces started to click together. 

“You dropped this.” A dry voice made her look up, and a paleness spread across her face like permafrost. 

Tomura Shigaraki stood at her doorway, dressed in a crimson jacket whose sleeves ran down his arms and black undershirt, whilst wearing jeans. He looked like any other ordinary person, if not for the severed hand on his face. In his hand was the book. 

Instantly, thoughts of a legless Re-destro, or the piles of dust that once were Shigaraki’s opponents flooded her mind. She gripped the bedsheets tightly. 

“Why are you here? And...I don’t need that.” Geten averted her eyes.

Shigaraki tossed it to the side and shut the door behind her. “I’m not here to kill you or anything, don’t shit yourself. I came here to see how you were doing. I gotta say, you look like you got broken up with.”

His words didn’t reassure her in the least, especially not the way he said ‘kill you’, but his posture didn’t indicate any animosity, so Geten took his word for it. Clearing her throat and steadying herself as best as she could, she responded, “I’m fine.”

“What’s with the book throw? Test tomorrow?” 

“No,” She replied with an edge to her voice. 

“You pissed?”

She exhaled. “Yes,” She said, mustering all the civility and politeness she had left. 

“How nice,” He said, the concern in his tone matching that of his expression. “Anyway, you’re free to do what you want now. I got nothing for Violet Regiment. You’re excused from the council meetings till you’re discharged, whenever the hell that is.”

She blinked. “That’s all?”

Shigaraki cocked his head. “What, you were expecting a celebration of your win?”

“No...never mind. Th – thank you, Commander.” She bowed her head. 

She heard the door slam and looked back up. She let loose a shuddering breath of relief from the sole fact that she was alive and not missing a limb, or an entire torso. He had looked more disinterested, as if she was an ant on his finger, but she would gladly accept that over a smiling Shigaraki. 

Did Dabi actually talk to him? She recalled the promise he had made on the motorbike ride.  

Maybe the consequences were waiting for her once her hospitalization was over, which made goosebumps appear on her skin. She held the sheets closer to her. Still, Shigaraki didn’t seem like the type to grant her catharsis before unleashing whatever hell he wanted upon her. If he was going to punish her, he would have done so just now. 

Geten sighed and sunk back underneath the covers. Or maybe I’m just lying to myself...

It was only mid-afternoon, judging from the sky outside, yet fatigue, both physical and mental, weighed her limbs down as if she had been training the whole day. The bed suddenly felt like the softest, most comforting thing in the world. Unable to fight against her body, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, her thoughts too cluttered to sift through. A few names and words stood out, one of which was, Find Dabi. 

––––––––

Had some time to finish this up. Hope you liked it. 

[rainandhotchocolate]

Movie Star

A/N Hello! This is another fun idea I’ve had, I want to write more so let me know if u like it! It’s Sirius x reader fake relationship trope cause I’m yet to do that and YES PLEASE anyway enjoyyyy lel

Y/N stared in the mirror. She was wearing her nicest pair of jeans and cropped black flowing top with matching black boots that she had spent three hours shining last night. She’d even done her hair so it curled softly down her shoulders, having practiced it for the last week. She’d done everything she had planned for today, a whole binder sitting in her bag (that she’d also polished), healthy snacks and sunglasses and a small bottle of vodka, just in case, but she couldn’t move from the mirror.

It was her first day on set. Ever. Living in LA had been one of the most challenging and painful thing Y/N had ever done, and she had been very close to driving home and just fucking becoming a full-time taco bell server but she received a call two days previous for a tv series role because the girl originally offered it had been offered to play Meryl Streep’s daughter in some likely million dollar movie.

“Y/N, get the fuck out of the bathroom and leave!” Lily’s voice screamed from the hall, her fists banging loudly against the door.

“I just… I just need a minute!” Y/N called back, flattening out her hair again. You can do this. You’ve read the script. A lot. A lot a lot. You’ve got this. Or maybe you’re going to fall flat on your face.

“I swear to god, Y/N, if you miss your first day I will actually kill you.” Lily was banging with her foot now and Y/N groaned.

“Ok, ok, fine. I’m coming out.” Y/N steeled herself and turned on her heel, marching out of the room. “How do I look?”

Lily gave her a once over, her lips pursed.

“Hot as hell, but just professional enough.”

“Perfect, ok I should go shouldn’t I,” Y/N picked up her bag and swung it over her shoulder.

“Please do.”

Y/N pulled Lily into a tight hug and moved quickly out of the room. Lily called ‘Good luck’ loudly as Y/N slammed the door shut, struggling to pull her keys out of her bag with the amount of crap she had put inside it.

The drive was thankfully quick, and she pulled up to the lot in 23 minutes and 30 seconds feeling increasingly nervous and slightly worried that she might puke.

“ID,” the security guard sounded incredibly bored.

“Yes, right of course! It’s my first day so…” Y/N trailed off as she noticed the security guard had turned back to her phone. “Uh, here it is.”

The guard looked at it, checking the database before waving her through, the boom gate opening slowly. Y/N thanked the guard and drove through to the parking lot.

“Ok, lot 34, 34…” Y/N mumbled as she checked her phone, “Where the fuck is this.”

There seemed to be no numbers on any building, people moving left and right and screaming aggressively for her to move out of the way.

“Sorry! Fuck I cannot be late,” Y/N swore under her breath, feeling her heart rate increasing at the thought of being late and the director just firing her on the spot for being a trash actress who can’t even find a bloody set on time. She re-opened the email sent to her with the maps and details about the set, zooming in on 34 and trying to match it up where she’d walked from the parking lot, and smoothly slammed into someone’s back.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry,” Y/N winced, leaning over to pick up her bag and the things that had fallen across the floor.

“It’s totally fine,” a deep voice replied, the person she’d bumped into turning and bending down to help her out. “Here’s your… vodka?”

Y/N stood up and met the person’s eyes, nearly choking on her own spit. In front of her was the stupidly gorgeous, incredibly famous Sirius Black. He looked even better in person, and, frustratingly, had a goofy smile playing on his face as he handed her the bottle of alcohol.

“Oh, uh, I just am not really sure if I might need some kind of bribe and now that I’m saying it it sounds really idiotic, thank you.” Y/N grimaced, wanting to crawl into a hole.

“First day on set, huh?” Sirius laughed, popping the bottle into her bag.

“How did you guess,” Y/N sighed, “I’m very lost, any chance you would know where lot 34 is?”

“I would actually, it’s where I’m going as well.”

“I… oh.” Y/N had forgotten to read the cast list. In all her planning and panicking and memorising every aspect of the script and characters that she could, she’d forgotten to read the fucking cast list.

“You must be Y/N then? Replacing Amanda?” Sirius began leading the way towards set, Y/N struggling to keep up with his long legs and attempting to avoid staring at his perfectly styled dark curls that hung just above his shoulders.

“Yes! I got the call a few days ago.”

“You look familiar, what else have you been in?” Sirius pulled open a door to his right, letting Y/N go in first.

“Oh I actually… um… haven’t – “

“Y/N, Sirius, please get into hair and makeup we needed you on set 10 minutes ago!” A girl with bright blonde hair and a wild expression pointed towards two caravans to the side of the room. Y/N apologised and moved quickly away, having never been more thankful to be interrupted. She pushed the door open to hair and make-up, looking around awkwardly.

“Hey there! Y/N?” A girl with short brown hair and bright pink spiky earrings grinned at her.

“Yep, that’s me.” Y/N followed her into the small room that was covered in boxes of different make up, paints and wigs hanging up against the walls. The entire front of the caravan was covered in mirrors, a chair in front of each one.

Y/N sat down in the chair the girl directed to, staring at herself awkwardly in the mirror.

“I’m Alice, I’ll be your hair and make-up gal for this season, hopefully the next one but here’s hoping it’s picked up,” Alice began to fiddle with Y/N’s hair, pulling it up and around her shoulders whilst she spoke. “So have you read through the whole script? It’s definitely the coolest thing I’ve worked on so far, and lets be real we’ve all dreamed of working with Sirius.”

Alice actually waggled her eyebrows, grinning at Y/N.

“Yeah it sounds like a cool story,” Y/N mumbled, her eyes watching Alice’s hands closely, wondering what she was going to do to her.

“So cool!” Alice pulled her hair up into a bun, pining up the loose strands and standing in front of the mirror to look at her face. “I’ve gotta ask, how did you react when you found out you were getting to kiss Sirius? I think I would have screamed the house down.”

Alice giggled, grabbing out a brush and primer, beginning to smear it across her face. Y/N resisted closing her eyes and smiling absent-mindedly as the feeling of the brush swishing across her face almost made her forget what Alice just said. Once she’d lifted the brush Y/N replied.

“Is Sirius… is Sirius playing Aramis?” Y/N felt her stomach twist, Alice, testing a couple of foundation types on Y/N’s wrist before dabbing it across her face.

“Yes! Didn’t you read the cast list?”

“Apparently I’m not that smart,” Y/N muttered, wanting to kill herself. She could have prepared for this, researched him, previous roles, kissing style, not panicking when he leans in. You fucking idiot.

“Don’t worry, the amount of people who haven’t read the script by the first day on set would surprise you,” Alice’s warm smile seemed to calm her slightly, likely alongside with the soft brush sweeping over her cheeks and eyes.

“Are there…” Y/N paused, unsure if she wanted to admit that she was sort of new to the whole filming thing, or if she would be accidentally humiliating herself.

“Hmm?” Alice gave her a look, holding the brush back, “You ok?”

“Yeah, just nervous.” Y/N gave her a small smile.

“Well either way, you look amazing,” Alice stepped away from the mirror and behind Y/N’s chair so she could see herself in the mirror. Y/N leaned in to look at herself, or herself 2.0. Alice had somehow highlighted angles in Y/N’s face that she didn’t even realise she had, her eyes highlighted by the subtle brown eyeshadow and liner.

“Holy shit, you are good.”

“You’d hope so,” Alice breathed out a laugh, letting out Y/N’s hair. “Now I’m sorry in advance because you’ve done your hair so nicely, but we are starting with the second scene today and you’re about to have your hair absolutely destroyed by some back combing.”

“I’ll forgive you,” Y/N laughed at her genuinely apologetic expression, grimacing when she held up the brush like a knife.

“Here we go.”

Alice gave her a hug when she left the caravan, wishing her luck like they had been friends for the last seventeen years and pointed her towards costumes. Four girls and two guys swarmed around her, holding up multiple tops and pants that looked exactly the same but with slight differences in the colour. Y/N wondered if they’d made them after the previous girl had cancelled, Y/N had given her a thorough stalk and immediately noticed the very big skin tone difference. They handed her a peasant blouse and linen pants, letting Y/N slip them on behind a curtain before circling her again once she’d changed, handing her a pair of lace up brown boots.

Y/N walked towards set, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly with each step. Someone knocked her lightly on the shoulder.

“Love the new look.” Sirius smiled at her, his hair looking somehow better.

“Yes, it’s called the ‘my hair is secretly a bees nest’” Y/N matched Sirius’ quite fast pace, drinking in his loud, dog-like laugh, his head shaking back.

“Alice is honestly an artist,” Sirius grinned at her, leading her towards the director and producer who were huddled together next to the set of large village facades, a gravel path along the front.

“She is, this isn’t my real face,” Y/N felt her heart flutter as she made Sirius laugh again.

“Y/N, Sirius! Glad you’re here, we are running short on time today because apparently we’ve been bloody double booked,” the director hissed at the producer who grimaced apologetically.

“I just want to see how you guys run through the second scene, doesn’t need to be anything fancy, just want to see you on the set and then we will start blocking properly. Sound good? Good.” She didn’t wait for them to answer, pointing them towards the gravel pathway.

“Great,” Sirius smiled fixing his collar and moving towards the set, Y/N followed close behind him. Y/N took a deep breath, sitting down on the path, trying to stop herself from fidgeting and calm herself. You know this, you can do this.

“And, action!”

It was a mixture of exhausting and exhilarating, and a couple of times where Y/N became slightly too mesmerised with Sirius’ impeccable acting skills. Once she’d been dismissed Y/N began to walk awkwardly back towards the caravan where the costuming team had moved her clothing, a large set of letters with her name on it across the front. It was probably the most exciting thing she’d seen all day.

As she reached it, she was pulled sideways by a small girl with a sharp brown bob and perfect cat-eye.

“Hi, Mary, PR, I just need to chat to you and Sirius for a quick sec ok?” Y/N was dragged towards Sirius who had been chatting animatedly to Alice, leaning against one of the set facades. “Sirius, a second?”

“Yep, see you tomorrow, Al,” Sirius winked at her and she waved him off.

“Ok, don’t have a lot of time, need to be at a marketing meeting in 10 minutes. So as you’re aware you two are love interests in the show and we are already getting some great hype given that the books have been getting steadily more popular. We want to lean into the pairing, a couple of staged outings, nothing confirmed just hints, ok? I’ll set up some time to run through the times we are going to get you two to be together, and what to post up on your socials.”

“Wait sorry are you talking about pretending to be together? Like… like a relationship?” Y/N interrupted her, stuttering awkwardly and berating herself internally.

“Yes, I’ll call you tomorrow with more details, just want to keep you in the loop.” Mary shook both their hands in quick succession and sped off towards the exit, heels clicking loudly against the concrete. Sirius and Y/N said nothing to each other for a few awkward moments.

“Well, I guess we will be seeing a lot more of each other,” Sirius broke the tension, his hand tucking into the front of his jeans.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Aha. Shit.

 Taglist:  @averytruerayofsunshine @siriuslyjanhvi @blushingskywalker @blackpinkdolan @thebabblingbookworm @cherrie511 @imlukesnirvana​ @avengersassemblee​ @maraudersandco​ @sly-vixen-up2nogood​ @katbernoulli @sirius-lysad​ @evyiione​ @minerva26love​ @aikeia​ @gollyderek​ @greatwombatblaze​  @songforhema​  @your-typical-giggle @myownviperroom @hermionie-is-my-queen @demiwitch527

[elizabethan-memes]

Can you elaborate on Erusamus and the reformation please, or at least point me toward sources? Politics make more sense than philosophy to me, so I see the reformation through the lense of Henry VIII, or the Duke of Prussia who dissolved the teutonic order, or France siding with the protestants during the 30 Years War because Protestants > Hapsburgs

So sorry to take so long!

If you needed this answer for academic reasons, given that summer term is pretty much done I’m probably too late to help, but I hate to leave an ask unanswered.

HELLA LONG ESSAY BENEATH THE CUT SORRY I WROTE SELF-INDULGENTLY WITHOUT EDITING SO THERE IS WAY MORE EXPLANATION THAN YOU PROBABLY NEED

Certainly religion has been politicised, you need look no further than all the medieval kings having squabbles with the pope. Medieval kings were not as devastated by the prospect of excommunication as you’d expect they’d be in a super-devout world, it was kinda more of a nuisance (like, idk, the pope blocking you on tumblr)  than the “I’m damned forever! NOOOOOOO!” thing you’d expect. I’m not saying excommunication wasn’t a big deal, but certainly for Elizabeth I she was less bothered than the pope excommunicating her than the fact that he absolved her Catholic subjects of allegiance to her and promised paradise to her assassin (essentially declaring open season on her).

I think, however, in our secular world we forget that religion was important for its own sake. Historians since Gibbon have kind of looked down on religion as its own force, seeing it as more a catalyst for economic change (Weber) or a tool of the powerful. If all history is the history of class struggle, then religion becomes a weapon in class warfare rather than its own force with its own momentum. For example, historians have puzzled over conversion narratives, and why Protestantism became popular among artisans in particular. Protestantism can’t compete with Catholicism in terms of aesthetics or community rituals, it’s a much more interior kind of spirituality, and it involves complex theological ideas like predestination that can sound rather drastic, so why did certain people find it appealing?

(although OTOH transubstantiation is a more complex theological concept than the Protestant idea of “the bread and wine is just bread and wine, it’s a commemoration of the Last Supper not a re-enactment, it aint that deep fam”).

I’ve just finished an old but interesting article by Terrence M. Reynolds in Concordia Theological Quarterly vol. 41 no. 4 pp.18-35 “Was Erasmus responsible for Luther?” Erasmus in his lifetime was accused of being a closet Protestant, or “laying the egg that Luther hatched”. Erasmus replied to this by saying he might have laid the egg, but Luther hatched a different bird entirely. Erasmus did look rather proto Protestant because he was very interested in reforming the Church. He wanted more people to read the Bible, he had a rather idyllic dream of “ploughmen singing psalms as they ploughed their fields”. He criticised indulgences, the commercialisation of relics and pilgrimages and the fact that the Papacy was a political faction getting involved in wars. He was worried that the rituals of Catholicism meant that people were more mechanical in their religion than spiritual: they were memorising the words, doing the actions, paying the Church, blindly believing anything a poorly educated priest regurgitated to them. They were confessing their sins, doing their penances like chores and then going right back to their sins. They were connecting with the visuals, but not understanding and spiritually connecting with the spirit of Jesus’ message and his ideals of peace and love and charity and connecting with God. Erasmus translated the NT but being a Renaissance humanist, he went ad fontes (‘to the source’) and used Greek manuscripts, printing the Greek side by side with the Latin so that readers could compare and see the translation choices he made. His NT had a lot of self-admitted errors in it, but it was very popular with Prots as well as Caths. Caths like Thomas More were cool with him doing it, but it was also admired by Prots like Thomases and Cromwell and Cranmer and Tyndale himself. When coming across Greek words like presbyteros, Erasmus actually chose to leave it as a Greek word with its own meaning than use a Latin word that didn’t *quite* fit the meaning of the original.

However, he did disagree with Protestants on fundamental issues, especially the question of free will. For Luther, the essence was sole fide: salvation through faith alone. He took this from Paul’s letter to the Romans, where it says that through faith alone are we justified. Ie, humans are so fallen (because of the whole Eve, apple, original sin debacle) and so flawed and tainted by sin, and God is so perfect, that we ourselves will never be good enough. All the good works in the world will never reach God’s level of perfection and therefore we all deserve Hell, but we won’t go to hell because God and Jesus will save us from the Hell we so rightly deserve, by grace and by having faith in Jesus’ sacrifice, who will alone redeem us.  The opposite end of the free will/sola fide spectrum is something called Pelagianism, named after the guy who believed it, Pelagius, who lived centuries and centuries before the Ref, it’s the belief that humans can earn their salvation by themselves, by good works. Both Caths and Prots considered Pelagius a heretic. Caths like Erasmus believed in a half-way house: God reaches out his hand to save you through Jesus’ example and sacrifice, giving you grace, and you receive his grace, which makes you want to be a good person and do good works (good works being things like confession of sins, penances, the eucharist, charity, fasting, pilgrimages) and then doing the good works means you get more grace and you are finally saved, or at least you will go to purgatory after death AND THEN be saved and go to heaven, rather than going straight to Hell, which is what happens if you reject Jesus and do no good works and never repent your sins. If you don’t receive his grace and do good works, you won’t make the grade for ultimate salvation.

(This is why it’s important to look at the Ref as a theological as well as a political movement because if you only look at the political debates, Erasmus looks more Protestant than he actually was.)

There are several debates happening in the Reformation: the role of the priest (which is easily politicised) free will vs predestination, transubstantiation or no transubstantiation (is or isn’t the bread and wine transformed into the body and blood of Jesus by God acting through the priest serving communion) and the role of scripture. A key doctrine of Protestantism is sola scriptura. Basically: if it’s in the Bible, it’s the rules. If it’s not in the Bible, it’s not in the rules. No pope in the bible? No pope! No rosaries in the bible? No using rosaries! (prayer beads)

However, both Caths and Prots considered scripture v.v. important. Still, given that the Bible contains internal contradictions (being a collection of different books written in different languages at different times by different people) there was a hierarchy of authority when it came to scripture. As a general rule of thumb, both put the New T above the Old T in terms of authority. (This is partly why Jews and Muslims have customs like circumcision and no-eating-pig-derived-meats that Christians don’t have, even though the order of ‘birth’ as it were goes Judaism-Christianity-Islam. All 3 Abrahammic faiths use the OT, but only Christians use the NT.)

1.       The words of Jesus. Jesus said you gotta do it, you gotta do it. Jesus said monogamy, you gotta do monogamy. Jesus said no divorce, you gotta do no divorcing (annulment =/= divorce). Jesus said no moneylending with interest (usury), you gotta do no moneylending with interest (which is partly why European Jews did a lot of the banking. Unfortunately, disputes over money+religious hatred is a volatile combination, resulting in accusations of conspiracy and sedition, leading to hate-fuelled violence and oppression.) The trouble with the words of Jesus is that you can debate or retranslate what Jesus meant, especially  easily as Jesus often spoke in parables and with metaphors. When Jesus said “this is my body…this is my blood” at the Last Supper, is that or is that not support for transubstantiation? When Jesus called Peter the rock on which he would build the church, was that or was that not support for the apostolic succession that means Popes are the successor to St Peter, with Peter being first Pope? When the gospel writers said Jesus ‘did more things and said more things than are contained in this book’, does that or does that not invalidate the idea of sola scriptura?

2.       The other New Testament writers, especially St. Paul and the Relevation of St John the Divine. (Divine meaning like seer, divination, not a god or divinity). These are particularly relevant when it comes to discussing the role of priests and priesthood, only-male ordination, and whether women can preach and teach religion.

3.       The Old Testament, especially Genesis.

4.       The apocryphal or deuterocanonical works. These books are considered holy, but there’s question marks about their validity, so they’re not as authoritative as the testaments. I include this because the deuterocanonical book 2 Maccabees was used as scriptural justification for the Catholic doctrine of purgatory, but 2 Maccabees is the closest scipture really gets to mentioning any kind of purgatory. Protestants did not consider 2 Maccabees to be strong enough evidence to validate purgatory.

5.       The Church Fathers, eg. Origen, Augustine of Hippo. Arguably their authority often comes above apocryphal scripture. It’s from the Church Fathers that the concept of the Trinity (one god in 3 equal persons, God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Spirit) is developed because it’s not actually spelled out explicitly in the NT. Early modern Catholics and Protestants both adhered to the Trinity and considered Arianism’s interpretation of the NT (no trinity, God the Father is superior to Jesus as God the Son) to be heresy. Church Fathers were important to both Catholics and Protestants: Catholics because Catholics did not see scripture as the sole source of religious truth, so additions made by holy people are okay so long as they don’t *contradict* scripture, and so long as they are stamped with the church council seal of approval, Protestants because they believed that the recent medieval theologians and the papacy had corrupted and altered the original purity of Christianity. If they could show that Church Fathers from late antiquity like Augustine agreed with them, that therefore proved their point about Christianity being corrupted from its holy early days.

Eamon Duffy’s book Stripping of the Altars is useful because it questions the assumptions that the Reformation and Break with Rome was inevitable, or that the Roman Catholic Church was a corrupt relic of the past that had to be swept aside for Progress, or that most people even wanted the Ref in England to happen. Good history essays need to discuss different historians’ opinions and Duffy can be relied upon to have a different opinion than Protestant historians. Diarmaid MacCulloch’s works are good at explaining theological concepts, he is a big authority on church history and he’s won a whole bunch of prizes. He was actually ordained a deacon in the Church of England in the 1980s but stopped being a minister because he was angry with the institution for not tolerating the fact he had a boyfriend. The ODNB is a good source to access through your university if you want to read a quick biography on a particular theologian or philosopher, but it only covers British individuals. Except Erasmus, who has a page on ODNB despite being not British because he’s just that awesome and because his influence on English scholarship and culture was colossal. Peter Marshall also v good, esp on conversion. Euan Cameron wrote a mahoosive book called the European Reformation.“More versus Tyndale: a study of controversial technique” by Rainer Pineas is good for the key differences in translation of essential concepts between catholic and protestant thinkers. The Sixteenth Century Journal is a good source of essays as well.

[sweetpeasmedusa]

Request from @deatheater61103

“High key just want a smut of Colby eating you out because we talked about it yesterday (?) And I haven't been able to stop thinking about it”

Well here it goesss 🤤😏

Colby and yourself had just come in from a night out clubbing. You know how the pair of you get, everything was hazy but the one thing you do know is that having Colby's lips on yours was the center of your attention right now. Colby's rough grips were eating at your hips and it did nothing but aide your arousal. He has the layout of his apartment memorised clearly because drunk or not, he is guiding you backwards, otherwise occupied, through his apartment but it comes to screeching halt when your back meets the cold wall behind you. Colby continued to assault your body with his rough kisses. He pulled away breifly to whisper "jump" and get you wrap your thighs around his waist. Colby hoisted your skirt up around your waist to rub you through your panties a bit.

He walks you into your shared bedroom placing open mouth kisses on your neck, earning a moan from you. You reach the bed and he lays you down and peck your lips one more time, his deep blue eyes blown with lust and a devilish smirk played on his face. You bit your lip in anticipation for what was next. "I'm going to make you feel so good baby" He says in his low voice between placing kisses down your body and he makes it to your hips. He places a kiss on one side and then the other dragging his lips across your skin lightly. Your hips rose from the bed but his hard grip pushed them back down. Colby takes your legs and hoists them over his shoulders, bringing his face right where you want him. He slid your panties to the side and his lips meet with your clit. You rolled your hips toward him again and he grabbed them.

"Babe, youve gotta be patient, believe me it's coming" a devilish smirk played on his lips. You couldn't wait any longer all you wanted was for Colby to devour you. Your hands were placed beside your body and he finally took his tongue across your clit, licking slowly and grabbing hold to your hands at the side of your hips. Colby watched through your parted legs and saw your back arch off of the bed and your mouth fly open. He goes in the second time, feeling your hands grip his harder. He circled and sucked your clit with the utmost urgency at this point. He knew what he was doing to you, your body was only this responsive to his touch, he owned you.

"Mm baby, fuck your tongue is so good" you elicit through your gritted teeth. He let go of your left hand to ghost it across your body and insert his ring clad fingers into you. The feeling of his cold rings on your hot body was intense.

"Mmm fuck me baby" you moaned, your back arching off the bed, yiur hips rolling into his fingers and his tongue still assaulting your folds. You let go of his other hand to lace it in his hair. He grunted at the feeling of your fingers pulling his hair lightly. The vibration sending a shiver through your body again and your hips lifting. His unoccupied hand came to your hip again pushing it to the bed again roughly. Before you knew it, it was about that time, you were a moaning mess under Colby's assault, his fingers quickly working in and out of you, his tongue gracing your clit with vibrations of his moans and your hip attached firmly to the mattress.

"Fuck, Cole I'm gonna come, oh fuck daddy please keep fucking me with your fingers. You make me feel so gooooood" you moaned out for him. A smirk played on his lips, he loves to hear you moan for him.

"Come on baby, come for me " He said in his deep lust filed voice and with that it was like nothing in the world mattered. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your stomach tightened as well as your grip on Colby's hand and just like that you released right unto his tongue. You felt like you were on top of the world and all you could muster was a quiet "I love you" as his lips come back up and connect to yours.

[goonlalagoon]

The Great Haus Bake-Off || Check, Please!

I have no memory of what caused me to start writing this, but been re-reading some Check Please fic and finally got motivated to go back and finish it...

(also on Ao3 here)

No-one was quite certain, later, who started it.

 It had been a post-practice brunch, they all agreed, sometime in that period when everyone on the Internet - or at least, about thirty percent of the parts of the Internet that Bitty frequented and re-tweeted things from - was obsessed with Great British Bake Off, and someone had eventually said “It’s baking, it isn’t like it’s exciting”, and it seemed like almost everyone in the room made a sound of thoughtless agreement.

Then came the terrible ‘clang’ of an oven door being closed.

 Instantly, the room fell silent. The look Eric Bittle turned on them all would freeze enough water for an ice rink, and for a long moment everyone at the Haus kitchen table was both trying to remember whether they had said the terrible thing, and wondering with deep seated horror whether if no-one owned up Bitty would actually withhold all baked goods.

 Chowder actually gulped when he began to smirk.

 “Oh, really? Y’all better be ready to put your money where your mouths are.”

It’s really only supposed to be a small thing. Bitty plans to just get the boys to try and make something - maybe a pie, or maybe he’d give them something fancier, patisserie of some kind - which they would all inevitably fail at but would probably make fools of themselves in some deeply entertaining fashion while baking. But Lardo listens to him patter on about it for fifteen minutes, swallows her pie, and grins.

“Say, Bits? You reckon we could turn this into a Samwell Men’s Hockey publicity thing?”

 They even manage to get a sort-of sponsorship out of it by dint of Lardo sidling up to the manager of the cute little store Bitty goes to for baking apparatus - he’ll compromise on many things for the sake of budgeting, but when he needs another pie dish or his scales go on the blink, Eric Bittle is not afraid to invest - and cheerfully explaining the entire story. The manager is delighted and insists on being a judge in exchange for giving them a deal on some of the key equipment, because Bitty loves his teammates to pieces but wouldn’t dream of letting them near his mama’s set of cake tins for love nor money.

When the delivery arrives he discovers that the manger has even managed to get them cake stands patterned with skating boots and little snowflakes.

One of Lardo’s arty friends agrees to film it in exchange for permission to submit it as part of his film and media portfolio, and Bitty indulges himself in a full rerun of every episode of Bake Off aired so far to gather ideas.

Lardo joins him for most of it, already planning the spiel she’s going to stick up on the SMH website to cover the event and organising a few people for taste testing (with a guarantee of a Bittle produced rendition of the days challenge in case all other offerings are truly inedible as they both half suspect they will be)

 Meanwhile, the rest of the boys begin to panic. Baking is not a skill that was widely associated with the SMH Haus before the arrival of Bitty, and their main interaction with baked goods is still firmly on the consumer end of things.

Ransom is seen carrying a stack of cookbooks up to his chin across campus from the library, and spends his evenings memorising recipes with the fervour he usually saves for last minute test revision. No-one quite dares use the Haus kitchen to practice, because what if they damage Bitty’s baking stuff he will either cry or kill them or both, and take over miscellaneous dorm kitchens to try and memorise the basic sponge recipe. A bemused Farmer lets Chowder use her kitchen, and promptly tracks down Bitty to ask what on earth is going on, because “he accidentally used salt instead of sugar and I know for a fact he’s done that several times before, why is he trying to bake again now??”

(She joins in with the GBBO re-watch and makes some excellent suggestions for possible challenges.)

Shitty attempts to make macarons, because he suspects that Bitty is going to make them all suffer. He pokes his failed attempt and concludes that Bitty may be prepared to make them all suffer, but he also loves baking too much to inflict this level of horror on himself, surely?

He largely stops trying to prepare himself and instead starts waxing lyrical about baking in the context of gender roles, mostly the hypocrisy that being able to bake a cake is still considered an essential life skill for a girl, but no one has ever thought it unreasonable that he has never baked a cake before in his life, and winds up on Wikipedia at three fifteen A.M. having gone down a Google rabbit hole that has somehow led to him reading the page about the societal structure of meerkats.

 In the end, Bitty decides on three challenges, as a nod to the format and a fun way to get some variety; cookie decoration (he’ll provide the prepped dough, bake ‘em once everyone’s used whatever cookie cutters they want, and then they do the decoration), mini-cake construction (everyone gets a batch of miniature sponges, their choice of how to glue the two layers together and add finishing touches), and one actual baking round - the showstopper pie.

Lardo makes a schedule, because the Haus kitchen won’t take all seven of the team who got themselves into this mess trying to work in it all at once, so that they rotate between stages and go in batches to Murder Shop ‘n Stop to buy their pie filling ingredients.

 It’s a disaster, and Bitty watches the chaos unfold with entirely unconcealed glee, keeping up a cheerful voice over - and if his chirps happen to distract the boys and lead to much panicked responses and second guessing, well, that’ s just the nature of baking in a high-pressure environment, isn’t it?

The first round of judging involves a lot of guesswork. Admittedly, Chowder’s blue and white creations are a lot easier to figure out if you’ve seen the inside of the boy’s room and could reliably guess what he was going to attempt, so there are a lot of puzzled looks exchanged amongst the judges until someone makes the link with the Sharks hoodie he’s wearing.

It turns out that Dex can do a pretty neat galaxy icing pattern if he puts his mind to it, even if he got the consistency wrong; Bitty may actually have to try it himself, sometime.

(”Jack, did you…did you actually do maple leaf cut outs with a maple glaze? That’s…”

“Gotta stay on brand, eh? And I was told I wasn’t allowed to do plain circles and decorate them as hockey pucks.”

Most of the minature sponge cakes are gradually sliding more and more lopsided as the various attempts at butter-cream or other fillings prove unable to hold. Holster has somehow managed to cut his at almost a perfect diagonal instead of in half; Nursey simply gave up and presents his as an ‘open sandwich’ rather than trying to glue the layers back together.

 (“Shits, what did you even put in the middle of - is this marmite? Did you - did you seriously - why?”

“Listen, love it or hate it, and I happen to love it. Sweet and savoury, a classic combination -”

“Marmite victoria sponge is not a classic combination, Shitty.”

“I was told to be creative, thank you very much, unlike those of us who went with jam and butter-cream.”

“I like jam and butter-cream. Anyway, I did use apple jam, that’s not typical. And I put maple syrup in the -”

“Bro, I am also from Canada, and even I will say that is incredibly Canadian of you.”)

Bitty almost weeps when he sees the final range of pies produced. He was braced for them to be terrible; he just wasn’t quite prepared enough. For a moment, he wonders if this whole stunt was really worth it.

 Fillings are burnt while pastry is undercooked to the point of being raw - or the filling is horribly flavoured and the pastry overcooked until it’s about the consistency of wood chips.

Ransom has managed a surprisingly pretty lattice over three-quarters of his pie, but ran out of pastry for the last section. Chowder forgot to leave air-holes in the lid of his (and put salt instead of sugar in the filling).

Nursey isn’t sure what ingredient he forgot, but it was clearly one of the essential ones.

But there is one pie that actually looks…if not something that Bitty would have baked himself, at least something he wouldn’t be instantly offended to be connected to. The lid is a near perfect golden brown, with precisely spaced snips to let the steam waft gently out. The pastry is precisely crimped around the edge of the pie dish, with the excess trimmed away to leave a clean margin. The filling is sweet but not sickly.

 The decorative pastry maple leaves add a certain artistry, the main judge declares with the pleased smile of someone who knows they were created with a cookie cutter bought from his own shop.

The video of Jack being presented with an ice-skate patterned cake tin and a matching apron as he’s declared the ‘Samwell Hockey Haus Bake-Off Champion gets re-tweeted by Bob Zimmerman within five minutes of being posted, to a flurry of Twitter activity.

Lardo and Bitty were definitely not expecting their slightly-spite-motivated publicity stunt to go quite this public.

 (It was a really good pie, though.)

[presumenothing]

call it what you want

the toph and zuko fic that absolutely no one but me asked for (but i asked very nicely so here it is)

beware probable inaccuracies to canon and in descriptions of blindness

(AO3)

i.

On the third morning in a row they wake up like this, they don’t even need to exchange a look before agreeing (though any literal looks would have been one-sided and therefore admittedly moot, considering).

“Emergency measures?”

“Emergency measures,” Zuko confirms, and he doesn’t even startle at the way his voice comes out anymore. It does still take more concentration than it should to shift his feet into position – at least he remembers to go barefoot, now. “Uncle’s already up, I think that’s him in the tearoom upstairs.”

Toph punches him in the arm. Fortunately there isn’t anyone around to witness the (apparent) act of Fire Nation brutality, but also: ouch. “You’re gonna have to do better than that, Sparky, I have a reputation to maintain!”

“You’re the one with the firebending now,” Zuko grumbles, not at all under his breath. “Besides, I had to stop you from accidentally sparking off about four separate international incidents yesterday alone, so – hey!”

Toph doesn’t stop pulling Zuko along the corridor, but at least she does slow down, and he suspects the stride hadn’t even been intentional to begin with, just habit from usually being the shortest one in their group.

“Wouldn’t want you forgetting how to do your job, o great Lord Not-Sparky,” she retorts, but there’s no heat in it besides her customary snark, and despite everything Zuko finds himself weirdly grateful that it’s the two of them stuck in this situation and not anyone else.

(That doesn’t stop him from gleefully whispering I told you so! when Uncle turns out to be right where he’d said he would be, but Zuko figures he’s entitled to that much.

And if Toph is rolling her eyes, at least she does it silently, so. It’s a win-win, really.)

.

ii.

The first morning, Toph wakes up with the feeling that something is off, but it isn’t until she opens her eyes (not her first priority upon waking, for obvious reasons) that she realises how off.

It takes her three tries to swing her legs off the side of the bed and onto the floor – how the hell is her depth perception somehow worse with vision? – and the chill of unfamiliarly-patterned tile is what drives it home for her.

Not that the rest of it hadn’t been enough already: Toph knows the dimensions of her own body very well, thank you, because she’d always be running into walls otherwise. And then there’s the matter of not so much what she’s seeing as the fact that she’s seeing it at all, and not in the way she usually means the term.

But anyway. This definitely isn’t the room she fell asleep in, because that one had been heated and this one isn’t at all, because apparently firebenders were above needing or wanting things like cozy heating when they slept, however comfortable it might be. Which means that this is a firebender’s room… unsurprising, since they’re in the Fire Nation and all, but Toph is also starting to suspect that this is Zuko’s room. She’s still trying to figure out the shitton of information her eyes are suddenly tossing at her, but she’s pretty sure that what she eye-sees matches the layout she’d mapped out before with her earthbending – which by the way is definitely missing and not just her feet being temporarily numbed by the cold floor, and it’s not like Toph is freaking out or anything, but.

But. Okay. One thing at a time, Toph decides, and looks around until she spots something that has to be a mirror, hanging on a wall halfway across the room because of course it is.

Several false starts later, she eventually settles on memorising the distance and direction to it, before squeezing her eyes almost shut as she walks so that only a narrow band gets through because honestly, too much information. No wonder sighted people were always so distracted.

Toph only opens her eyes again once she’s finally standing in front of the mirror, and – holy fuck, she thinks.

Not because she’s Zuko. Or not just that, rather, not even that, because she is somehow in a body that she’s certain has to be Zuko’s the same way she’d known this was his room.

She’s heard that the scar on his face is bad, had even felt it for herself – how big it was, how much of his face it covered, raised ridges and unnatural smoothness that she would’ve recognised as wrong even if she hadn’t touched anyone’s face before, but.

But now that she’s seeing it, the scar stands out far more than she ever thought it did, a livid patch stark against the rest of his features that she struggles to tear her gaze away from, and if this is what it means to have sight, have colours, Toph thinks she might not want it anymore.

Which is when she realises that if she’s here in this body it has to mean that – shit. Zuko.

(The first morning, Zuko had woken to utter pitch darkness that refused to abate or even change no matter how many times he blinked or frantically rubbed at his right eye. He’d probably have fallen spectacularly on his face if he’d moved to stand – but Zuko hadn’t even tried to. Couldn’t, not with the blackness pressing down on his limbs like far-too-physical fear.

He’d managed to simultaneously convince himself that Ozai had locked him in some windowless cell for good and thrown away the key, or that he’d finally lost his vision to the burn damage like the medic had warned Uncle might happen all those years ago, in quiet harried words where they thought he couldn’t hear.

Then a hand had landed on his shoulder, and Zuko would’ve startled if there’d been anything left in him to startle, but then a voice – his voice? – had hissed by his ear, and he’d made out the words “Sparky” and “come on” and –

And that hadn’t magically made everything better except in the ways it had, because he still couldn’t figure out what it meant but at least he wasn’t alone in the darkness anymore.)

.

iii.

Really, it’d been plain luck that Toph had woken up so much earlier than usual. Or not, because apparently firebenders woke with the sunrise and she’s a firebender now, and this is already shaping up to be a pain, didn’t Sparky or Uncle ever want to just sleep in until noon?

Apparently not, judging from the way Sparky had already been awake (awake and well into panicking) by the time she located the set of guest rooms that she’d been sleeping in just last night. Firebenders, honestly.

(“It’s habit, I guess?” Sparky had explained afterwards with a sheepish look, so okay, maybe this was more a Lord Rise-and-Shine thing than a general firebender thing.)

Anyway. Whatever the reason, it gives them enough time to figure out a plan before the rest of everybody wakes up, at least once she finally gets Zuko to calm the hell down.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, still breathing in that careful firebendy pattern which would’ve been a dead giveaway to her. But at least he looks not-freaked-out now (in Toph’s definitely nonexpert opinion, anyway) and she figures they can probably depend on most people around them to be as unobservant as they usually are. “Any idea how this happened?”

“Nope. We could always take the day off, see if this fixes itself by tomorrow,” she offers with amazing generosity.

“Absolutely not!” Zuko answers immediately, because – oh yeah, right, workaholic tendencies are another firebender and/or Sparky thing. “I – you – we have a meeting with all the major Fire Nation officials this morning, and there’s that delegation from the colonies after that, and then – ”

(Toph sighs. Couldn’t blame her for trying, at least.)

They end up settling on having Toph-as-Zuko lead Zuko-as-Toph around for now, because Toph has standards, and she refuses to let herself be seen bumping into walls all day long.

Plus, even waking up early hadn’t given them enough time for more than a superspeed crash course on Fire Lording, so of course Zuko insists on staying with her so she doesn’t mess up and offend all the world’s leaders or something.

“One wrong word could – could restart the war,” Zuko squawks like the baby turtleducks that the kitchen staff pretend not to see their Fire Lord regularly stealing bread for.

“Heard you the first twenty times, Your Shortiness,” Toph says breezily, patting his head – and just to be clear, she’s still not gonna forgive Sokka for all the times he’s used her as an elbow rest, but she (or her body, at least) is really just the right height for it.

(There are a few raised eyebrows when the Fire Lord doesn’t walk into the meeting chambers alone, but it probably helps that basically everyone present has other much higher priorities, and most of them are already resigned to the Avatar’s group acting weird by default anyway.

Which is to say that no one questions the arrangement until they break for lunch, and then not even until Aang bounces over to join them from who-knows-where, because Toph’s pretty sure that the A in Aang (and airbender, and Avatar) stands for audacity. “Toph, are you holding on to Zuko’s shirt?”

Toph – actual Toph – opens her mouth to give a bullshit answer, but Zuko beats her to it. “Duh. See, somebody here lost a bet, which means he’s gotta be my seeing-eye person until I say so. Right, Sparky?”

Toph’s reluctantly impressed. Not only had Zuko clearly thought about this, he’d even said it with all the snark she would have, complete with a disturbingly wide grin (she’d looked).

She gives one of those indistinct-but-not-really-upset grumbles that Sparky uses a lot around them, and gradually falls behind the rest of the group so she can elbow him with her own rock-sharp grin (because she can confirm from experience that it’s audible, even if not visible). “I didn’t know you had that in you!”

“Yeah, well.” Sparky rubs the back of his neck, his gaze darting away then back, and there’s no aura of sass about him now. “You handled the meeting pretty well, all things considered. Especially that… Minister Takagi.”

“You can just say ‘asshole’, y’know, it’s not like you’re the Fire Lord right now.” Besides, it’d be way more accurate, with the deliberate way that minister had said something oily and barbed about Ozai that’d gone right over her head but still hit home anyway, judging from the way Zuko had tensed in the seat beside hers.

Toph had simply blinked slowly before savouring the brief but utter look of confusion as she responded to the rest of his speech while outright ignoring the comment like the completely irrelevant bait it clearly was.

Too bad, Minister Asshole. Better luck next time!

(And if her cheeks are vaguely warm from the compliment in the way she knows means a blush, Sparky can’t see right now anyway, so it’s all fine as long as she doesn’t spontaneously combust from embarrassment.

…or from being a firebender. Is that even possible? Hopefully not.)

.

iv.

“But of course,” Uncle says as he refills their teacups. “I would be glad to be your regent while you are on vacation, nephew. You scarcely needed to ask.”

“Like I said, we’re just going to Gaoling to speak with the Beifongs, and so Aang can do his Avatar thing before we route any of the withdrawing troops through there,” Toph says, and Zuko can practically feel the annoyance rolling off her even if it’s for entirely different reasons than his own would’ve been, in the same situation. (It does make for a more convincing act though.) “It’s not a vacation.”

“Of course it isn’t,” Uncle replies with great equanimity, while Zuko tries to figure out if his tea is cool enough to drink now that he can’t judge by the steam rising from it. “It is good to see you taking better care of your health in spite of your heavy responsibilities, nephew. I hear that the clerks are overjoyed to have paperwork delegated to them again!”

Probably about as ecstatic as Toph herself was when she’d heard about that option, Zuko thinks to himself, and snorts at the thought.

(Honestly, it’s not like the paperwork that reaches the Fire Lord’s desk is anywhere near as complicated as the incomprehensible hell of requisition forms Zuko had constantly wrestled with aboard his ship, but Toph had still cheered when all of it got carted away to the clerks’ office. “Why would you go through all that if you didn’t have to? You should’ve done this ages ago!”

“How else was I gonna learn the details of what’s going on?” Zuko had muttered, but he couldn’t blame Toph for this one, since – well. Reading and writing hadn’t been a big part of her education, as she’d put it. “I’d offer to do it myself, but…”

He’d trailed off, then buried his face in his hands because he was not finishing that sentence, because Toph Beifong might be the greatest earthbender of all time but she’s also the worst influence to ever exist and apparently Zuko isn’t even good at cracking blind jokes anyway. And he didn’t even know whose expense it’d be at, right now.

Toph had just cackled like she’d known what he was thinking anyway.)

They manage to make their escape from Uncle almost one and a half pots of tea later.

“Is it just me,” Zuko begins hesitantly once they’re a safe distance down the corridor, “or did you also get the feeling that – ”

“He knows?” Toph sounds like she’s frowning. “Yeah. I mean, I guess it’s not a big deal if he of all people finds out – but how, though? He’s barely even been around the palace since this started!”

“Maybe he could… see it or something, I dunno.” Zuko shrugs. “Uncle’s been to the Spirit World before, he did say some stuff about it changing his awareness of things.”

“But he’s not the only one who’s been there,” Toph points out, before they both contemplate Aang for a moment. “Though maybe the only one without the attention span of a catterfly, yeah.”

(“Which reminds me, when’s Sweetness due back from the North Pole?”

“Katara? In another ten days, if everything goes to plan. Why?”

“Because I’m gonna have her fix this shitty heartbeat of yours, I don’t even care if we’ve swapped back by then! I already thought it sounded weird after the whole lightning thing, and you keep saying that it’s fine but this is really not normal, we’re just lucky you haven’t had a heart attack doing your morning exercises or something equally ridiculous–”)

.

v.

They tell Aang what happened once Appa is up in the air and en route to Gaoling, but the airbender still sounds disbelieving for once, even after they land early to train and set up camp.

“Okay, you got me, very funny, no way you actually switched b– huh.” Aang pauses, even keeps still for a moment. “Huh. You’re being serious.”

Zuko doesn’t need earthbending to recognise the sound of Toph tapping her foot, and probably crossing her arms too. “Care to enlighten us, Twinkletoes?”

Aang bursts out laughing at that, so the nickname probably sounds as weird to him in Zuko’s voice as it does to Zuko himself, though he goes back to being thoughtful afterwards. “I can see it a little if I concentrate, yeah – maybe it’s an effect of the energybending, I dunno. Your colours are a little different to the usual earthbender and firebender ones, and I don’t think they were like that before.”

Zuko’s pretty sure Toph is thinking the same thing he is (that still doesn’t explain how Uncle found out) but out loud he only says, “Can we get started now, if you’re done talking Avatar stuff?”

“Right!” Aang agrees with an enthusiastic bounce, and Zuko now really understands why Toph gave him that nickname. “So Zuko, you need me to teach you how to earthbend like you’re actually Toph, and not you pretending to be Toph and earthbending like how you think Toph earthbends–”

“Yes, Aang,” he interrupts, trying to sound longsuffering instead of laughing, then points unerringly at where Toph is lifting a foot. “And you’re not going barefoot, Toph, I have a reputation to maintain!”

“It’s not like anyone’s looking,” Toph mutters, but her shoes are still on when she puts her leg back down.

(“Honestly, Zuko, I’m really impressed,” Aang says as Toph lights the campfire for dinner, and this probably shouldn’t feel comfortingly nostalgic but it does. “I mean, it’s obvious now that I know what’s going on, but you’ve actually been navigating really well? I think I’d have taken way longer to adapt if I had to see by earthbending alone, and I already know earthbending.”

“It’s surprisingly intuitive once you get the hang of it. And I think Toph’s muscle memory stuck or something, otherwise I’d probably still be running into walls. Well, more walls,” Zuko amends. “Besides, I guess it’s sort of like when I was adjusting my newly shitty vision, after – after what Ozai did.”

Zuko’s briefly proud of himself when he barely even stumbles over that last part, until he realises that Toph has gone still across from him, and there’s an alarming flash of heat that probably isn’t the campfire.

“Uh.” Aang sounds alarmed, and like he’s staring. “Toph…?”

“Are you seriously telling me,” Toph grits out between her teeth, “that my depth perception is so fucked up because you only have half your vision left.”

“It’s really closer to seventy percent,” Zuko answers on reflex even as he facepalms both internally and externally because how in the name of Agni had he forgotten to tell Toph about this? Yes, it would’ve been obvious to anyone else, and it’s simple fact to Zuko by this point, but of course Toph of all people wouldn’t have realised that his eyesight was abnormal seeing as (ha) she’d never had vision before.

The ground trembles from sudden stomping. “That’s it, forget Gaoling, we’re going back to the capital now so I can kick Scumbag Lord’s ass all over again – and no using earthbending against me, Twinkletoes!”)

.

0.

“Do you miss it?” Zuko asks, later that night.

No answer comes for a long moment, and he’s starting to wonder if Toph’s fallen asleep when he feels the rustle of her turning over.

“Which part, the earthbending? Or being a blind and helpless twelve-year-old girl?” The air quotes around those words are perfectly audible even if he can’t see them, but neither of them have ever been much for rhetorical questions anyway so Toph barrels right on. “One more than the other, and you’re damned lucky I’m well-educated nobility or I’d have thrown up all over your court etiquette by now.”

Zuko tries to imagine Katara or Sokka (or possibly worse yet, Aang) trying to act as the Fire Lord and winces – they’re amazing people and Zuko cares for them more than he knows what to do with, but he’s also heard all about Sapphire and Wang Fire by now, and just. No. “Thanks for that, Toph, you’ve been doing a great job.”

Toph punches him in the arm instead of saying you’re welcome like a normal person. “No need to sound so surprised. You?”

“Hm?” he asks, before his brain catches up with his mouth a moment later. “Oh. I…”

Does he miss it, being the banished prince turned Fire Lord? Being not just Zuko but Zuko, son of Ursa and Ozai and everything that meant?

Does he miss having people look at him and see the scar on his face before everything else, see the pure golden eyes and assume everything it implied? (Not that he knew for sure how people looked at him now, not literally – but he’d seen enough of how they looked at Toph before, and it was always underestimation rather than exaggeration. And if it’d been just a year ago he would’ve been furious at that but now? Now, he’s still offended on Toph’s behalf because it’s not fair, it really isn’t, but he’s… surprisingly okay with it, otherwise.)

Does he miss fire dancing on his palm, sun-warm but never burning?

“…not as much as I expected,” Zuko says finally, and he doesn’t know how much time has passed but he can feel Toph listening for an answer anyway. “Except for the firebending, but I guess earth’s not too bad either.”

(Zuko doesn’t think he’s ever going to react anything but poorly to people touching him without warning no matter whose body he’s in, it’s a fact he’s fairly resigned to – but Toph’s earthbending means that pretty much no one but airbenders can really take him by surprise, and there’s only one of Aang. Fortunately.)

Toph snorts in a manner unbecoming of either lady or Fire Lord. “Well, fire sucks. If this keeps up, I might just have to become the greatest firebender of all time, too.”

Zuko laughs. “I look forward to it,” he says sincerely – this is the earthbender who’d learned from badgermoles, after all, even if she’s also busy snickering at his unintentional pun. “Tell Aang to bring you to go meet the dragons sometime, I think you’d love them.”

“Please. I’d rather ask Uncle instead, Twinkletoes would just be distracting.” Fair point. “And you’re coming with.”

The Sun Warriors might sooner feed an earthbender to the dragons rather than grant an audience with them, but Zuko nods anyway. “Alright. Good night, Toph.”

“Night, Sparky,” comes the mumble in reply, already half-asleep, and Zuko closes his eyes.

.

.

.

[gguksgalaxy]

Prologue | BTS | Fuckboy!Au

Masterpost | Next📱>> 

You’ve known Jungkook for years. He’s what they call ‘a fuckboy’ — so what? What he does with other girls is none of your business. However, when you meet his friends he doesn’t seem to feel the same way. ›› AU: Fratboy / University ›› Genre: Smut / Fluff / Angst ›› Rating: 18+ Explicit (sex + mild violence) ›› Pairings: JHS x Reader, MYG x Reader, JJK x Reader, KTH x Reader ›› Word Count: 4.4k Warnings Include: Mentions of family problems, divorce, sex. A/N: I’m finally starting this series, I’ve been working on it for a bit now, and part of it will be Social Media (sm) if i can figure out the right way to combine it :) Thanks to @xiubaek13 @ilujongdae and @xingtrash for helping me with this mess of a series.

It was good to breathe in the air from home again after a year, even though it was in the airport. Your year in the US had been the most amazing time of your life, you gained so many new friends, new skills, new experiences. But it was good to be home, to see your family again, to see Jeongguk again. You were maybe a bit bummed you wouldn’t be able to see your best friend until tomorrow, since you parents were coming to pick you up and it was already late at night. But it wouldn’t make you hug him any less tight once you got to see him again.

With your suitcases close behind you, you exited the baggage area and came back to a group of people waiting for their relatives with balloons, presents and open arms. You searched for your parents in the crowd. Instead, you found a familiar mop of dark brown hair hiding a pair of bright eyes that crinkled up in a smile at the sight of you.

You were in his arms within seconds, strong embrace pulling you close to his chest. “God I missed you.” You sighed against his neck, as he lifted you of the ground and spun you around. “So much.”

He chuckled, setting you down and taking his face mask off to reveal a familiar smile. “I missed you too, Sky.” For some reason, you were sure he’d grown over the year that you hadn’t seen him, both in length and in width. “How was your flight?”

“Good Gguk, all good.” You trailed your hand over his arm, his skin warm. “Where are my parents?”

He pouted in mock hurt. “Are you not excited to see me?”

“Of course I am silly. Not like my parents don’t know that.” His muscles flexed beneath your touch, shifting past your grip. “Take me home?”

Jeongguk nodded, leaning over to press his lips to your forehead and pull you against his chest. “God, I’m so glad you’re back home Sky. Part of me was scared you wouldn’t come back.”

You touched his cheek, feelings your chest tighten at the way he looked at you. “What’s got you so sentimental?”

He looked away, bangs shielding his eyes from your view again.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He leant into your touch, taking your hand in his, fingers encasing yours and pulling you close yet again. “Ggukkie.” You chuckled against his chest.

With a bit of push and pull, you let him take one of your suitcases and your bag from you, saying that you looked tired enough already. Strangely, you didn’t feel tired, you felt rejoiced for some reason. Having not seen him for so long, regardless of how many times you’d Skyped until the middle of the night, you were hit with feelings you’d seemed to have grown unaware off. He was your best friend after all, the one who was always there for you no matter the distance. The one who would console you and made you smile, who you could cry with and laugh with until you cried. Life without him, was hard to imagine.

“Wait, did you bring the Audi?” you asked in the elevator, leaning against him.

His soft brown eyes caught yours in the mirror. “Yeah, why?”

“You couldn’t have brought mine?” you pouted at him. “You know how much I hate that stupid car.”

“Yeah, because my legs definitely fit in that miniature thing of yours.” He laughed, sound muffled on top of your head. For a moment all you did was look at each other, and you realised he might’ve changed a bit. You weren’t sure what it was, maybe just the fact that over a year had passed. His eyes seemed to hold something else than his usual wonder and childish glee.

Jeongguk’s Audi still smelled as much of crisp leather as you remembered, and you still hated it. It unsettled your stomach. But you smiled when you saw the snacks and blanket in the passenger seat. He was so attentive, bringing your favourites because you kept complaining how much you missed them. “Can I drive?”

He snorted. “Definitely not.”

“Gguk….” You whined. “Please.”

“You just had an 8 hour flight, you’re not driving anywhere Sky.” He said, opening the door for you after he’d lifted your suitcases into the trunk. “I don’t need you passing out behind the wheel.”

“Yeah, well I’d rather not get into an accident cuz of your reckless driving. Remember when you ran a red light and I almost died?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “You didn’t almost die, I’ve never been hit before. Or pulled over for that matter.”

You rolled your eyes. “Because you have all the luck for both of us and we know it. Let me drive, please, I’d rather not have an aneurysm the moment I set foot on homeland. I’m not tired, I promise.”

In the end, he huffed and threw you the keys over the hood. “If you even feel a tiny bit tired you’re gonna tell me and you’re gonna pull over that car. Yeah? I don’t need you nodding of behind the wheel.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You said, opening the door and getting in. The gap between you and wheel was way to big, and you yelped at how far to the floor you sank to even get into the damn seat. “I forgot how much I hate this car.”

Jeongguk laughed, throwing his head back and sliding his hand between your knees and under the seat to pull you closer to the wheel. “Just drive, before I lift you back over my lap into the passenger seat.”

The drive was calm. With your favourite music softly playing through the speakers, and Jeongguk’s gentle voice singing along all the tunes that you’d memorised since you were young. In moments like this, you let your eyes off the road to look at him. His head was thrown back, eyes closed and a small smile playing on his lips. Your heart was content right now, as his hand found yours over the console, playing with your finger without looking at you.

It was after an hour or so that you felt your body grow lethargic and begrudgingly pulled over near a gas station so he could take your spot behind the wheel. He most certainly whined when he tried to get in but couldn’t because you’d left the seat so close to the front. “You and your tiny legs.”

“Maybe it’s you and your big legs.” You joked, squeezing his thigh and making him squirm. “You gotta stop working out so much, before you know it you’ll look like half of the guys back in the US. I don’t understand how they think it’s attractive to have boobs bigger than mine.”

Jeongguk snorted as he hit the freeway again. “Because you really have big boobs.”

“Hey! There’s nothing with my chest mister.”

His eyes crinkled up in a smile, fingers splayed over the beige coloured wheel that made him hands look a bit paler than usual. “Do yours actually get bigger if you work out?”

Casual questions like this were very common between the two of you, and you just shifted in the seat so you could position your legs over his lap. “No, they just turn real firm.”

He hummed, legs spreading comfortably and your feet almost slipping off.

“No Gguk, not a good firm. A bad firm. Like tennis ball firm.”

“Eh.”

“Yeah.” You said, grabbing the blanket and the bag of chips. Jeongguk was a reckless driver, always speeding, always running red lights wherever he could. But he looked comfortable behind the wheel, like somehow he belonged there. His seat slightly reclined, legs spread for no apparent reason, one hand on the wheel and the other dangling off your knees. “So tell me, what have I missed out on?”

He chewed the inside of his cheek, a sign to you that he was most likely about to say something bad. “I might’ve forgotten to mention that I joined a fraternity.”

You choked on your chips right then and there. “I - Excuse me, Mr Jeon?”

“I’m sorry, it just never came up, and I only really joined because of my family and such. But then I saw Jin and we like got talking, and now I’m living in one of the split houses.” He mumbled under his breath, cheeks red because he knew you were going to be upset about this.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know, it never came up? I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

It wasn’t a big deal, you really couldn’t care if he was part of a fraternity. But him not telling you didn’t sit right in your stomach, because he must’ve had a specific reason for it. You told each other everything, and literally everything, from embarrassing doctor’s appointments to hookups gone wrong.

“I mean, I don’t really care. No wonder you were getting your dick wet left and right boy.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, as if I wouldn’t normally.”

“Not that much you wouldn’t!”

“Hey, girls like me, okay. Not my fault.” He shrugged, and you poked your foot near his face just to spite him. “Stop that!”

“Is Jin being nice to you?” you asked, knowing Jin pretty well from when you were younger. As it was, your older sister Livvy used to date him. She met him back when she used to babysit Jeongguk, the event that brought you and your best friend together. Jin is Jeongguk’s older cousin, the other heir to his father’s law firm Jeon-Kim. “Or did he just, not change?”

Jeongguk chuckled, knowing exactly that you were referring to the elder leaving your sister high and dry so he could fuck around in college. “Both, definitely both. My brother’s beyond pissed that I did make it into the second home and he didn’t.”

“What’s that?” you asked, totally aware that you were talking about the notorious fraternity Alpha Tau Omega that was central to the university you would be going to this year as well.

“Oh, it’s like a mansion that’s off campus. Since they’re not allowed to throw parties on campus anymore due to violation of rules. It was something with alpacas, I think? It’s me and 6 others, you’ve seen pics of some of them. Yoongi, and Jimin both live there as well.” You remembered those names clearly, they’d come up before when you were talking to him late at night over the phone. Jimin was 2 years older than him, you remembered him from photos as having an endearing smile and devilishly good looks that were only enhanced by his jet black hair. The other, Yoongi, had shown up in many of Gguk’s snapchats. His hair bleached almost white, and often dressed in something semi casual like skinny jeans and a vest with a baseball cap often pulled far over his face. From what you’d seen from him he was handsome, a glint in his eyes that you couldn’t really explain, but you’d openly admitted to your friend you found him attractive. To which he’d replied that he wasn’t your type. Too…forward, he’d say.

“Okay so, you basically live in a club?”

“I mean, technically, yes. But it’s a really nice place, I have my own room and I only share my bathroom with 1 person.” He turned off the highway, getting home way faster than you would’ve if you’d completed the drive. “I know my dad offered me a penthouse like Hyuk has, but I’d rather live with my friends really. It was way too big and lonely there.”

Jeonhyuk was Gguk’s older brother. It was an understatement to say the two didn’t get along, and you didn’t like him either, at all. Every run in you’d had with the other since you were a kid had made your feelings for him worse. He was as stuck up as his father, money was everything, and he’d use it to claim his status every moment he could.

You licked your lips, closing your eyes. “Hey, you don’t have to justify your choice to me kid. I’d love you even if you lived in a box, because who are we kidding. You’re always at my place anyway.”

“True, very true. It’d be a big box though, you could make a home in there.”

“Pfft, okay mister, I’m just gonna close my eyes for a bit. Don’t kill me while I’m asleep yes?”

“Yes Sky, yes.” You fell asleep to him singing, his fingers drawing patterns on your thigh and relaxing you through the familiarity of it, he always drew the same shapes.

You woke up to him lifting your feet of his lap, laughing when you shot up in fear. “How sad that you woke up, I was gonna carry you upstairs. Seeing that you’re awake though, I guess you can walk.”

Through your window you caught sight of your familiar apartment building. The year you’d been gone, you’d sublet your quite spacious apartment so that you would still have it once you returned. It was a bit further away from your new university than the previous one, but it was near all your favourite spots and it had just become home in 3 years. “Can you piggyback me?”

He protested for a bit, but when you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, he sighed and gave in. “I hope all that McDonald’s didn’t make you too fat to lift.” He said, letting you hop onto his back.

“Stop complaining you baby, we both know you lift more than I weigh.” You shot back, to which he laughed. His hands held you firmly by the thighs as you held your bag in front of his chest.

The material of his leather jacket was slightly slippery but you just had to hold on a bit tighter. He was warm, and you rested your cheek on his shoulder as he carried you to the elevator. You yelped when he pressed you against the mirror, just to annoy you because you knew he could easily carry you. “If you don’t stop being so annoying, I will not let you sleep over.”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “Oh, because I certainly want to sleep over.”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t miss me in your bed, Jeon Jeongguk. I still remember you complaining how cold it was last December!”

For you and Jeongguk, sharing a bed had become a regular thing. One of the reasons being him always staying over at your house after your sister stopped babysitting him. You had the guest room, but your bed was way more comfortable. Through the years, sharing a bed had evolved into waking up in a mess of tangled limbs and someone most likely drooling on the other. Even though his dad hated it when he kept coming to your place to stay the night, he knew he didn’t have too much of a say in the matter. Some people did thing it was strange, especially since you were 3 years older than Jeongguk. But the age difference really had never mattered to either of you. Maybe you were childish for your age, or whatever. The older you got, the more you both forgot about it.

“Fine.” He sighed, faking annoyance but still carrying you through the door and setting you down on the couch.

The apartment smelled strange, but it was cold, and that feeling of coming back home after a long time crept up your skin ever so slowly. Jeongguk explained how he’d gone grocery shopping with your mom that day, so you’d have some food to eat. He really was somewhat like the third child in your family, both your father and your mother loved him. Your parents were divorced, something that was hard on you three years ago, but now they both secretly always asked you if Jeongguk could come to their christmas dinner and not the other’s. You’d grown used to it, and you were glad they never fought, they still both came for your birthday and got along. They’d just explained how the love was gone.

“I’m going to get the rest of your stuff, go take a shower or something, hmm?”

You nodded, and he did that thing where he briefly brushes his knuckles over your cheek with a fond look in his eyes that you couldn’t explain. It almost brought tears to yours, because you realised how much you’d really missed him. Everything about him. He was a piece of home after all.

After your shower you found him in your bed, scrolling through his phone, jeans discarded on the floor and leather jacket hung over the chair in your bedroom. He was warm as you slid in beside him, and he curled towards you, soft flush spreading over his cheeks as you placed your hand on his arm. “I really missed you.” He whispered.

“What had you so sentimental back at the airport Gguk?”

He licked his lips, arm tucked under his head, leg brushing against yours. “You know, at a certain point I was convinced you had so much fun there, that you’d consider staying there. That you’d decided you wanted to move there permanently and not come back home.”

You looked at him with wonder, seeing the way his eyes slightly glassed over but he managed to push his own tears away. The same way he always would.

“I will always come home Ggukkie, I promised right?” A smile spread over your lips, as you hooked your pinky finger with his. “I don’t break my promises.”

A relieved feelings spread through your body at the sight of his smile. “Yeah, I know.”

“And you know, if you’re scared, or worried, you can always tell me okay? You don’t have to hide things from me. Even if you’re afraid of the answer.”

He nodded, letting go of your fingers and draping his arm over your waist, fingers ghosting ever so lightly over your back through your shirt. “Are you tired?”

“Yeah, a bit.” You mumbled, closing your eyes and breathing out gently. Jeongguk smelled lightly of mint and cotton, fresh and light and just the way you remembered.

After that he didn’t really say anything, and you let his presence lull you to sleep. His warmth was welcoming, even though the nights were still full off summer.

The next day,  you woke up to an empty bed, stretching out, legs moving without obstruction. “Gguk?” you mumbled with your eyes still closed, aware of the sunlight breaking through your thin curtains and painting your body in small streaks of light.

“I’m going to shower.” He said somewhere to your right with a chuckle. “Are your eyes glued shut or something?”

Jeongguk and his stupid jokes. “If you’re naked, then they are.”

“Okay, one, you’ve seen me naked before. Two, it’s not bad of a sight to look at. Three, I’m not, yet.”

You chuckled, his voice also giving away he hadn’t been awake for long. “Just go shower you thot.”

“If anybody is a thot here, it’s you!”

“If I have to get up out of this bed kid, I swear to God I will hav-“

“I’m going, I’m going.” He laughed, closing the door behind him but not locking it.

After a while of just laying around in bed, you got up and shuffled into the kitchen to turn on the coffee machine and toaster. You found strawberries in the fridge, along with a small cake that said “Welcome home little Sis”. After your sister had gone to university for three years, studying business, she’d told your mom and dad she wanted to pursue baking. Your parents, always having been free and accepting with the both of you, supported her. At that time you were 18, and you’d spend many long long nights in the kitchen with her, covered in flour and milk to try and come up with something nice.

You decided to save it for later, your stomach not up for sugar this early. So you took out the strawberries and cleaned them, setting them on the table together with the coffee, toast, and milk.

Jeongguk walked in still towelling off his hair, face a little red and puffy from the shower. He smiled sheepishly and sat down across from you, hand immediately going for the milk to dull down the harshness of his coffee. “Isn’t this weird?”

“Milk in coffee? No?” you giggled, your friend speaking in the pouty way he often did.

“No,” he shook his head. “Us, falling so easily back together as if it’s nothing?”

You cocked your head to the side, waiting for him to gaze back up at you from his food. “It wasn’t like I never saw you. I talked to you at least twice a week, I’ve told you practically everything that happened. Do you think it’s weird.”

“No.” He shook his head again, hair swaying slightly. “I was just thinking.”

“Stop ruminating in your own head Jeongguk.” You said, pushing the strawberries his way. “Eat, enjoy, and stop waiting for something to go wrong.”

It wasn’t uncommon for him to do this. To be nervous about absolutely nothing, to try and problems and mishaps where there were none. “I have to go in an hour or so. I promised your dad I’d drop you off.”

“Do you have something to do?”

His eyes flickered to his phone as it went off, messages showing up in his screen in quick succession. “Family meeting.”

“Family meeting, or family meeting.” You said, unsure of what had suddenly captured his full attention on the small device.

He sighed, shoulders dropping and running a hand through his hair that was quickly drying. “It’s about the company or something. Hyuk’s gonna be there, but so are Jin and his dad. I’m not really sure what’s up, but I’ll just sit through it and hum to whatever they’re yapping about.”

“If you need me to save call you, just send me a text. Yeah?”

“I know, but they’ll probably not try and one up me if Jin’s in there with uncle Seok. Dad hates nothing more than to be reminded that he shares the company and uncle Seok isn’t going to let him talk shit to me. You should’ve seen dad’s face when he implied that Jin could take over the company with one of their partners if I didn’t want part of it. He almost blew a fuse right there.” He grumbled, mouth full of toast. “My brother just needs to keep his big mouth shut.”

“Well, you could try and talk to Jin about it. I’m sure you guys can figure something out.” You said, not having any knowledge on business at all. You had a bachelor degree in philosophy, and a taste for artistic fields like your father had. Writing was your passion, it was the reason you’d fled the country, to find inspiration and actually put your work into motion. Writing had slowly replaced cheerleading over the years, even though you’d joined a small competitive group once you’d decided to settle down somewhere in upstate California.

He got up after he finished his food. “Did you take a lot of videos?” he asked, pointing at your camera that was still set on the counter from yesterday.

“Yeah, I have like 17 SD cards full of stuff. Because we both know my notebook has zero storage.”

Your friend shook his head in disapproval. “Can I edit them?”

“Huh?”

“Your videos, can I edit them? I’ve been looking for a new project but I haven’t really had anything to film for a while. I promise I won’t ruin them.” You took the image of him smiling and scrunching up his nose in the way only he could and stored it in your mind for later as you told him you’d fetch them before you left.

Before he dropped you off, he promised you he’d call. You’d whined a bit when he said he would be busy for the next week with family and school stuff so he might no be able to come see you, but he’d call you and ask for the week after. You’d agreed with a pout, and kissed his cheek before you left him and the smell of his leather interior behind.

The thing was, he didn’t call you. When you called him, he didn’t pick up and texted you to say he way busy and couldn’t pick up right then. It crushed your heart way too easily, because he’d never done this before. You two barely ever texted, calling was always the better option. He had never been too busy to call you, even if it was for a few minutes. It was over a week until you’d finally managed to get a proper hold of him, and even then it seemed like he was doing something that preoccupied him.

“Gguk what’s going on?”

“Nothing babe.” Okay, now you were suspicious, because he never called you that, ever.

“Gguk, don’t lie to me. Is it your brother?”

He was silent, and you could clearly hear voices in his proximity. “No, I’m not. I’m just busy right now. I’m so sorry, I don’t think I have much time this week. There’s a bunch of shit that needs to be settled with the company for some reason, and I have to help around at ATO to get things ready for the start of the year party. Maybe we can meet before class on Monday? I know a great place on campus that you’ll love, it has those tiny cakes.”

The way he kept his voice almost hushed made you frown, but you’d agreed to it nonetheless. You were sure whatever it was that he was chewing on would come out sooner or later. Maybe he was right, maybe the way you fell so easily back into each other was weird. Or it was too easy to be real.

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