#most of these are pretty scribbly but im still trying to. figure out how to draw them in a way that wont make me want to kms

[harvestmoth]

uh. hi. back for a moment with . more vtuber thinsg . again. my bad . dont look at me

there are other things but mobile image limit im not putting all of that here

[stsgluver]

𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐓.𝟑 — gojo satoru

synopsis. nobara is ill and what better way to spend your day off than trying to figure out who your teacher's high school girlfriend is?

wc. 3.5k

tags. gojo x reader, fluff, one suggestive joke, reader is in gojo's class, implied utahime x shoko, only half proofread

a/n. it's nearly midnight and im so tired and I have to be up at 6 tomorrow but I needed to get this done. I hope there's not too many mistakes <3 the ending is kind of shit but idc :) jk i do pls like it

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“are you sure you’ll be okay alone?”

nobara lazily lifted her head from beneath her duvet, orange bangs clinging to her sweaty forehead as she let out a series of harsh coughs. megumi winced from the doorway, inching back ever so slightly - he'd already brought in a couple bottles of water and a box of tissues, he wasn't looking to contract whatever flu-like disease she had caught.

she rolled her eyes at his not-so-subtle antics and raised a weak thumbs up. “go on fushiguro, i know how much you're dying to spend the afternoon with itadori and sensei."

“haha,” megumi uttered with the most sarcastic tone he could muster. on second thoughts, maybe being sick for a week wouldn't be so bad. with nobara gone, there was no buffer for his teacher and classmate to pester. “call me if you get worse, you know the second years are useless.” 

nobara gave the younger boy a quick salute and small smile, “yes boss.”

she dropped her head back into her pillow and waited till she heard the door click shut till she slipped a little less than elegantly out of bed. whilst yes, there was no denying that she was definitely sick, she also had a mission she couldn’t give up on.

in the three weeks, four days and an unknown number of hours since she had found the dvd of her teacher in his youth, she had been putting all of her free time into trying to find you. megumi had been a dead end when she’d tried asking him about you again and, although nobara knew he had a soft spot for yuuji, she didn’t trust the pink haired boy to treat this situation sensitively.

initially, she’d even considered asking gojo about it but she decided against that pretty quickly. that could get awkward very quickly and she still had at least two years at the school. 

then, she’d moved onto searching through the school for traces of the alumni. all she’d managed to find was a single photo; one that included both kyoto and tokyo students. you were tucked into gojo’s side with your arm around shoko. geto was there too: him and gojo side by side as they always were in their teenage years. all of you were grinning and genuinely happy. where had it all gone so drastically wrong?

nobara wondered if it was geto’s fault that gojo’s class had been all but erased – an effort to forget that the worst curse user to live had in fact once been an aspiring sorcerer.

her next plan (and one she hadn’t full considered the logistics of completely just yet) was to watch every single video on the dvd because surely at some point, there would be some clue of who you were or where you’d gone. 

and even if there wasn’t, what else could she possibly do to amuse herself whilst she was on bed rest?

with a huff, she grabbed her laptop and dropped back onto her bed, tucking herself under the covers. opening up her laptop (her password being ‘12345’), she clicked unpause on a video she’d started the evening prior.

“–and that’s it basically.”

shoko waved her hands around, sat on yaga’s chair at the front of the classroom with a blackboard filled with scribbles behind her. it wasn’t anything legible, more like swirls and stars and nobara thinks that, if she looked hard enough, in the corner were two little stick men: gojo and geto. an unlit cigarette sat between her lips as she kicked her legs up onto her teacher’s desk. yaga clearly wasn’t in the room. 

“that made no sense whatsoever but woo! shoko!” you clapped, out of frame of the camera but enthusiastically nonetheless. the aforementioned girl narrowed her eyes at you across the classroom.

“that’s why i made a video, for you to look back on duh,” she tsked, nodding her head towards the camera. “plus it is easy. i expected dumb and dumber not to understand but you?” shoko patted away a few non-existent tears, taking on the role of disappointed parent and their once star student.

except you’d never really excelled in a class with two prodigies and shoko actually loved having the upperhand in at least one area of sorcery.

shoko picked up the camera, holding it upwards to give a full view of her outfit and hair – like it was any different to any other day she attended school. she swivelled the spinny chair over to an occupied desk, slotting next to it and moving the camera so that it captured all of you in the frame. gojo was sat down in the seat, glasses propped up onto his forehead as you sat sideways on his lap, unsuccessfully trying to decipher shoko’s teachings on the board.

“understanding reversed cursed techniques is way harder than understanding cursed techniques,” you tried to justify, pointing to the board that showed the squiggles that ‘symbolised’ performing a reversed curse technique. stealing gojo’s glasses and popping them on your own face, you popped a quick kiss to the side of his head, “plus, why waste my energy? you’ll figure it out so i never have to.”

“the things i do for you,” gojo sighed happily, dropping his head down onto your shoulder as his arms looped around your waist. the orange-haired sorcerer could practically hear yuuji’s gasps at the simple displays of affection and she almost felt bad for watching some of the clips without him.

almost.

nobara was never one for romance – drama, such as the fight between gojo and naoya, that was her scene. but even she couldn’t help herself from smiling at the teenage love between the two of you. maybe she should give her teacher more credit – there was more to the six foot two man than just his over the top personality and questionable teaching methods.

“this is meant to be an educational video! be less couple-y!” shoko complained, scowling and shuffling away on her chair again.

“oh, we could make it very educational,” gojo wiggled his eyebrows, the devious smirk on his lips only widening at your flushed expression as you tried to hit his chest. failing, though, as he isolated his cursed technique to uphold a thin barrier between your hand and the material of his uniform.

there was the teacher she knew – keen to annoy even those he loved the most.

shoko must’ve ended the video out of spite after his comment, because nobara found herself staring at a black screen. 

all that she’d learnt so far was that you couldn’t perform a reverse cursed technique as a teenager. maybe that was what killed you? if you were even dead, that is. but given the damage that curses can inflict on sorcerers, whether or not you were able to execute a reversed cursed technique could literally be the difference between walking away from a fight a little tired or in a body bag.

nobara coughed several times, picking up the open bottle of water from her bedside table and taking a sip to try and ease her scratchy throat. scrunching up her nose at the slight sting of swallowing, she clicked the next available video, not putting much thought into her choice.

it was you and nanami in frame in a library by the looks of it but if it was on campus, nobara didn’t know where. christmas decorations decorated the shelving units behind you – tinsels of gold, red and green, and hanging snowflakes. you were both wearing your usual uniform but you also had a santa hat on and tinsel lining your jacket.

“we’re the only two on campus,” you said quietly, “because everyone else’s parents loved them–”

“we couldn’t afford to go back for the holidays,” nanami cut you off, without glancing up from what he was writing. being from two non-sorcerer families was a disadvantage normally in terms of status and inherited techniques, but holidays were somehow worse. 

gojo had offered to help you out with a ticket back to your parents and had even extended an invitation for you to stay with him but you didn’t want to leave nanami alone (and although he didn’t seem grateful, he was glad you were there).

“it’s fine. academic comeback time,” you held up a book to the screen. being in a class with three exceptional sorcerers meant that studies were often sidelined to try and improve and perfect your techniques. holidays were usually your opportunity to catch up on the missed classwork and homework you’d fallen behind on.

nanami less so – if anything he was reading ahead. tokyo had never been renowned for academic scores until he’d come along.

“i don’t get why the camera needs to be here,” nanami complained.

“to record us study! it’s motivational.”

“sure,” nanami hummed quietly, reading over your shoulder at the work you’d already completed prior to setting up the camera. “that’s wrong. this is simple mutipli–” he paused at the sound of rustling and his brows furrowed as he tried to peer round the bookshelves. 

“merry christmas!” 

nobara snickered as nanami jumped at the sudden voice and appearance of three people behind him. gojo and geto were capable of masking their cursed energy (and shoko’s) so that they wouldn’t be noticed slipping into the library. although gojo had nearly screwed that up by pulling out a chair trying to trip up geto.

“ieiri!” you slipped out from your seat, running up and hugging your classmate. in the process, the camera got knocked so it was facing the ceiling. nobara frowned as she turned the brightness up on her laptop as if though that would somehow bring everyone back into grame. in the periphery of the screen she could make out just the heads and foreheads of the student sorcerers.

“hi satoru, missed you too satoru, so glad you came to see me satoru,” the white haired sorcerer pouted at the lack of attention and nobara is sure someone responded to him but the audio is muffled by two voices closer to the camera’s microphone.

“here!” haibara slipped into the seat next to nanami that you had occupied moments prior and held up a small wrapped box with red ribbon tied neatly in a bow. “i picked it up on the way. merry christmas nanamin!”

“thanks yu,” nanami smiled softly at his classmate. well that’s what nobara thought he did anyways, his eyes lifted into half crescents but she wasn’t actually sure what his mouth was doing out of frame. she’d never seen the blond so happy from a simple gesture.

she clicked off the video even though it still had thirty seconds left to go. it wasn’t much fun just watching people’s foreheads and she highly doubted that nanami was about to fix the camera’s position.

so you were from a non-sorcerer family and possibly not able to use reverse cursed technique. it wasn’t much but facts were still facts.

there was a little more deliberation before she chose her next video, settling herself back into her cushions as she waited for it to load.

the screen was suddenly very bright and nobara winced, turning it down as the surroundings came into focus. it was the inside of an arcade and the camera was pointed directly at one of those claw machines. inside were different sized plushies of spiderman and haibara was the one controlling the claw.

nobara could vaguely make out everyone’s reflection in the glass – to the left of haibara was geto (who was also the one holding onto the camera), gojo and you, and to his right was shoko, nanami and maybe also utahime? shoko had her arm around a blue haired girl either way.

“no! so close haibara,” you patted the youngest boy on the shoulder gently as the plushie he’d managed to pick up slipped from the claw’s clutches before it could be dropped down the chute and retrieved.

“can i try?” gojo asked and, from the annoyed groans, nobara assumed it wasn’t the first time he’d interjected.

“no, he’ll get it this time,” geto encouraged and gojo flashed him a look of disbelief. 

“if gojo wants a go he can have it!” haibara tried to step away from the machine but nanami halted him, slotting several more coins in the machine.

“take your go yu.”

“i’ll get you a slushie if you win,” shoko called out, clapping her hands together as he accepted his fate, hesitantly pressing down on the buttons as he peered through the side of the machine to get a better angle.

“haibara, haibara.” all of them were chanting his name now, and that was enough of a boost for him to finally get one of the plushies over the barrier and down the chute. the camera shook unsteadily as geto jumped and six of them crowded the youngest in a joint hug.

nobara could see yuuji in haibara and megumi in nanami and herself in shoko and she had to stop herself from tearing up. nanami and shoko seemed like strangers these days and she couldn’t even imagine waking up and yuuji not being the first one to greet her outside her room. 

we’ve got a mission here, she reminded herself, shaking her head lightly before moving onto the next clip.

“utahime, say hi,” you lowered the camera to the kyoto sorcerer’s height. she was sat cross-legged on the floor with a jacket flung haphazardly over her head to try and block out the sun that beamed down.

“hi!” utahime waved, smiling as you dropped down next to her. in her hands was a partially made daisy chain that she’d started to entertain herself whilst she waited for the tokyo students. despite being in kyoto, she’d always chosen to join yourself and shoko at events over her own classmates.

“who do you think is going to win the exchange event this year?” you asked with a raised brow and utahime grimaced.

“don’t make me compliment him.”

“are you implying that our edge is not because of me?” you looked at the camera with a disgusted expression, like you had the power to outshine the gojo satoru, she rolled her eyes – gojo’s dramatics were rubbing off on you. “for that i’m telling ieiri. you may be her girlfriend–”

utahime hit your arm and her eyes darted around for anyone that could’ve heard (like you were not sat alone in a field together whilst the others warmed up), “shut up! we’re not like that…”

you nodded with a condescending hum. “then kindly could you please stop calling her till three in the morning, some of us need our beauty sleep.”

“you’re only ever up at three am because you’re sneaking back from gojo’s dorm,” she retorted with a pointed look. you opened your mouth to defend yourself 

“true,” you jumped at shoko’s voice, swivelling your neck around to find the third piece of your trio standing behind you. shoko gestured towards your uniform jacket, “and if she pulls down her collar there’s a massive hickey i had to help cover up this morning.”

utahime erupted into a fit of giggles and you eyed the camera like it was some sitcom and you were breaking the fourth wall.

“you’re such an asshole.”

shoko pushed in between the two of you to make herself the middle. “you love me.”

nobara frowned as the video ended. while it wasn’t overly helpful, it reaffirmed the seriousness of your relationship with her teacher… but that was obvious from the lovesick heart eyes he constantly had in every video you were together.

although, she would have to show it to maki – the two had suspicions about the kyoto teacher and tokyo healer and this all but confirmed that they were right. 

nobara scrolled down till she found a thumbnail of you, geto and gojo sat around a table of food.

“zenin naoya,” you started, chopsticks in one hand as you held a bowl of food in the other. gojo pretended to vomit at the mention of his name. “yes toru, appropriate response, but have you heard about him and the kamo girl?”

geto nodded with a mouth full. “the one who studied abroad?”

“yes! her,” you waved your chopsticks in his direction, “anyways, she cheated on him.”

the dark haired sorcerer made a sound of shock, “they were together together?”

you nodded enthusiastically, offering gojo some of your rice. “mhmm, they got together new years eve.”

“that did not last long,” gojo snickered. nobara peered at the date in the corner of the screen in a retro, yellow font; 15 january 2006.

“best part? it’s not even the first time,” you revealed, picking up some salmon sushi off of gojo’s plate and quickly eating it.

“stop,” geto gasped and nobara was shocked. this man was a war criminal now, and yet ten years ago he seemed so far from it, gossiping like he was a teenage girl.

“which like i don’t get,” you frowned. “i dont know why he’s trying to save face over some two week old relationship. especially if she’s already cheated multiple times.”

“he’s just desperate because it’s the first girl to ever want to actually be with him.”

“oh yeah she really wants to be with him,” gojo uttered sarcastically with a sparkle in his eyes. he would have a party at the downfall of the zenin.

“are they staying together?”

“i think so,” you nodded, holding a hand over your mouth as you spoke and finished your mouthful. “it’s what me and shoko told him to do, well shoko. he facetimed shoko.” you clarified following gojo’s less than pleased expression. nobara didn’t doubt that naoya had caused some tension in your relationship (though she refused to believe it was ever because you had been interested in him) and she wished that you’d switch the topic solely onto that. that was the sort of drama she was after.

“youre telling me he facetimed ieiri to tell her he’d been cheated on?” geto could bearly finish the question without laughing and he shot gojo a look. “odds on him trying to make yn jealous.”

you couldn’t stop yourself from snorting. “oh yeah because hearing all that made me want to leave satoru for that thing.” sarcasm or not, your words were taken literally by your boyfriend who draped all one hundred and ninety centimetres of himself across your body. “oh my god you’re so heavy.”

“it’s just my love for you in physical form. don’t be mean,” he whined.

nobara didn’t even have the energy to laugh quietly at the pathetic nature of her teacher as she felt herself drifting off. it was fine, she thought, only a quick power nap. she’d earned it, watching all those clips expended lots of energy.

“kugisaki?” gojo gently knocked at the young girl’s door. he’d left yuuji and megumi to do laps to check nobara was still alive and well. the illness had made its way through half the school already and while it obviously wasn’t something fatal, he knew better than to take any risks.

he knocked again and waited thirty seconds before he opened the door enough just to peek in and–

“satoru.”

gojo felt his heart drop at the sound of your voice. one he hadn’t heard in almost two years and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so unsteady and thrown off guard. the mere sound of your voice had startled him and gotten more of an upper hand than any curse he’d ever had to exorcise.

although his world had stilled, reality continued on and he was forced to hear himself hum in response. he didn’t have to see the video to vividly remember the day, to remember the smell of the grass and your perfume that were coaxing him into a nap that would make you both late to yaga’s lecture.

“do you think we’ll still be together once high school is over?”

“hope so,” he murmured, half asleep, and gojo wished his younger self was more aware, telling you how much he wanted to be with you, savouring every second he had in your presence rather than sleeping it away. 

like that could’ve changed the outcome.

slipping into her room, gojo lifted the laptop off of her sleeping figure (definitely still alive and breathing). with a press of a button, the disk popped out and he set the device onto the ground as he contemplated what to do.

he could break it in half, make it seem like an accident that nobara hadn’t noticed in her ill state. or he could use his cursed technique and completely eviscerate it from existence.

or maybe he could keep it.

gojo gave nobara one last glance as he silently closed her door once more, grateful for the blindfold he wore as he headed back outside to his students.

taglist. @thefictionalcharacterssimp @hana-patata @mor-pheus @leathairs @sh0ek0 @maliakealoha @levisteeacup @g-kleran @stevenknightmarc @n1kimura @darliingyu @saturn-alone @splxtscreen @leah-rose03 @rinshoe @laurenzitaa @patricia142lilian @sabo-has-my-heart @wooasecret @dahliawarner @kysrion @dreamerdeity @mwah-chia @geromiegerald @arminsarlerts @maliakealoha @cherrypieyourface @k4romis @monsieurgucchi @bofadeezs @777userz @polarbvnny @chonkercatto @tenshis-cake @haitanibros0007 @ba-ks @liaurokodaki @urfavvirg0 @lofasofabread @r0ckst4rjk @vee-ai @aiikuraa @melileli0001 @rinshoe @vinivave @yell0wdreams @sukunasleftkneecap @malikazz243 @sad-darksoul @giannitaa @maliciousmace @name-insert @splxtscreen

this tag list is insane ty all for the support

[mirror-to-the-past]

les goo -- im presenting thy taro (how would respond to a collab with white tulips on ao3 if that somehow comed up in a conversation?)

and ivy

Taro: Oh, that's not what I expected from this ask prompt, interesting. Hm...

Well, I'd probably be very flattered at first, like I inevitably seem to be when engaging with them (around when I first talked to them directly it boiled down to... pretty much frisbeeing compliments at them...). So, hypothetically, I'd be like "what? ☺️ you wish to work together with me on a creative endeavor? 🥺 You're too kiiind," only to pause when I would realize I don't really have ideas at the moment to contribute with. But, that's usually the case until they start talking, so then I'd cover for it: "Aha, so what've you been pondering, lately?" While I not-so-subtly take out a notepad and scribble until something sticks. I'm always so inspired by how Tulips is so innovative with their discussion...

To be honest, though, I'm unsure if it'd be fair to put them through the ringer that is my scattered and nonscheduled creative process, if it was a more extended project, lol.

Ivy: I'm still learning my emotional tells, myself, honestly. I'm not too observant of body language, be it myself, or others. People that know me can usually tell if I'm thinking about something, but when they're like 'I cannot deduce what is on your mind, explain human,' I'll often have to be like 'Oh, I was thinking? I think you're right, hold up homie, give me 5 so I can figure out what was on my mind, and I'll get back to you.' Of emotional tells that come to mind:

Happy = I get the zoomies. I am suddenly filled with an inexplicable urge to dart as fast as I can like some frantic woodland creature. Sometimes, when presented with a long, empty walk in front of me, I indulge my instinct to zoom, and just sprint. Very fun. When this is not achievable, I might pace around instead (usually while talking about something). When that is not achievable, sadge. So much happy... nowhere to go...

Annoyed = Can't really think of many subtle/individual things. Most of the time, when people think I'm annoyed, I'm not actually annoyed. Real frustration is usually task based for me, so I'll probably be on my own, filling out a paper talking to the air like "you see this shit? Disgusting." I might laugh about it to try to chill out, if maybe the pace/nature of whatever I'm working on really is not happening, that day.

Upset = A really strained, creepy smile. Feels stuck to my face. I'll be talking through my teeth like "That's fine," and I probably look constipated.

Tired = Fidgety and flat. Don't have the energy for a ton of facial movement, do have the discomfort to bounce my leg up and down a gazillion times while I give a thousand-yard-stare that screams: "I want out."

[beatcroc]

[for anyone else, this is @ my original tag complaining that i can't figure out how to get him to sit] @localcoffeeaddict i do love funny gamma car but sigma also already has refs for this!

the e-100 series crouch. they can get pretty low down, but they're very much still putting their entire weight on a relatively small point on their own legs; and i'd say with how their like... ankle wheel thing is positioned, it looks like it actually puts More strain on weird points of their legs/joints. crouching/squatting on your own regular human legs for extended periods of time doesn't feel good either! not to mention with sigma's uneven foot/leg situation specifically it's probably even more uncomfortable. i'm talking 'sitting' as in like chilling resting casual style; i've tried some scribbles about it but nothing's really clicking

funnily enough the perching one is definitely what looks most natural, but the problem is that sigma is Massive and Very Very Heavy and i dont. think thats really going to work with much of the usual scenery that can be Perched Upon. he is going to break it. the other problem with being a big clunky robot and not a regular bird is his legs are Way thicker and you can't get them folded very tightly without it looking wrong. i did also try just putting the legs straight out in front but trust me that looks way dumber and is way more distracting since the other joints only bend Up gfjgfjfkjfg. i also briefly entertained a more 'quadrupedal' style of sitting more akin to like a cat or dog or whatever where it's the flats of the hind leg+also the 'hands' of the arms but it feels really wrong for him just vibewise like some kind of fucked up gorillabeast. i'm trying to avoid leaning into animal vibes with him and if it's gonna be anything it's gotta be the bird. they also have this weird... crossbar thing that their legs attach to which further complicates the 'where the hell is the center of gravity supposed to be for this' issue but frankly if i can get that on the ground along with the feet or ankle-wheels im gonna call it good enough.

currently i think what's gonna need to happen is i give him a specialized ''''''chair'''''', which ultimately just amounts to raised block perpendicular to the ground to prop up the base of his feet just behind the wheels/foot base like in the 'perched' image, while the 'ankle' angles down behind and rests on the ground. which is going to be a pain in the ass to work into any scene where i want him to sit but whatever.

every time i draw sigma i think of this

[tripthelightfandomtastic]

its my first wild wednesday of my senior year of college!!!! im taking a film class this semester and the TA sucks, so i’d like to imagine messing around w your hot, frat boy, film major TA Josh (circa highway tune era). im an english lit major and the film bros at my university are the bane of my existence, but theres something about having a little enemies to lovers with frat boy!Josh that just makes me want to throw all my morals out the window…

As a film school graduate, I completely understand how fucking annoying film bros can be. Holy fuck the way they get PISSED if you say, "I just don't think Quentin Tarantio is a good writer." I used to do that just to make them mad lol

I'd like to think you and Josh would have to do a scene together for one of your classmates short films, seeing as they didn't know of anyone else to ask who would be willing to help out. Josh is boarder line decent to get along with when you aren't talking about film, but the moment someone brings up Kubrick you want to punch him in the face.

"Kubrick was an amazing director!"

"He got a great performance out of her-"

"Um, do you even know the bullshit he put Shelley Duvall through for The Shining?!"

"By making her stay up for days on end with no sleep, and gaslighting her into thinking everyone on set hated her."

"It's still a good movie."

"You're a dick." You roll your eyes as you look over the shooting schedule, the two of you rehersing in Josh's off campus apartment. Running lines with Josh was nice most of the time, he was a good actor, it shocked you he wanted to be behind the camera instead of infront of it. You on the other hand, were just doing a classmate a solid in hopes that they would run your audio for your short film. "This script is fucking awful." Josh whispers frustrated from trying to figure out a non cringey way to read lines from a wannabe horror movie. "Yeah, its pretty cheesy." You agree, flipping through the pages of bad dialogue consisting of clichés, corny one liners and awkward flirty dialogue that only proves the guy who wrote it doesn't really know much about women.

"So what's the plan here? Your character is the killer, predictable, and I'm the helpless victim, sexist, and you're taunting me with a knife that I end up stabbing you with, wow how original." You sigh tossing the script on to the coffee table, turning to face Josh on the couch as he writes in his script. "It really does need some changes." He agrees as he continues his scribbling. "What are you writing?" "Some notes on dialogue, I'm thinking something that flows more naturally than, 'Oh no, you were the killer all along?' Something a little more exciting." Josh explains.

Josh moves closer to you on the couch, "So how am I supposed to move, I go from having you against the wall, to you pushing me to the ground?" Josh asks confused, "Well, you could choke me and I could pull a knife?" You suggest, Josh's eyes light up, "Do you know how to be stage choked?" He asks, "No? Do you?" You answer curiously.

The two of you end up rewriting most of the scene completely, a flirty back and forth where the killer doesn't reveal his plot but simply distracts the would be victim with seduction, "And then I stab you in the gut, telling the audience that I figured it out when you referred to the very first victim in the past tense when no one else knew that they were dead yet. It makes my character seem like less of the ditzy bimbo and more of the Nancy Drew type." You add. "What you don't wanna be a bimbo? I love bimbos." Josh smirks, "I bet you do. I have no problem playing anything, I just hate lazy writing." You justify.

"I took stage combat last semester."

"Of course you did."

"Hey, it was a good class, and obviously very helpful now."

You can feel yourself blushing, this is stupid, like where am I supposed to look? He's so close to me, do I look into his eyes? That's too intense, maybe his mouth, oh, his lips are pretty, no no that's weird, he's gonna get the wrong impression, I'll just look in his eyes, his stupid, big, brown eyes. It was not lost on you that Josh was cute, fuck, he's the cutest guy in the whole department, and him holding you like this and this close is not helping.

"Okay, whatever nerd, just show me." You sigh exasperated, moving closer to Josh. He brings his hand up to you, "Okay, so in stunt work, all of the responsibility of selling it is on the 'victim' in the scene, so you gotta make it look realistic." Josh explains as he gently places his hand on your throat adding zero pressure. "So you don't squeeze at all?" "Well, only a little bit, but just here, on the sides of your neck, not your actual windpipe." He says, his hand gently squeezing. "Oh yeah, that feels...fine." You say as you look him over.

"So what do I do?" You ask him softly, Josh's eyes search yours, "Uh, you can um, put your hands on my arm and my wrist, make it look like you're trying to push me away?" He suggests. You bring your hands up to his forearm, leaning back against the arm of the couch as you place your hands on his forearm and bicep, squeezing the muscle beneath for effect. Oh? That's nice, hm, a little muscle there, what a suprise, you think to yourself as your eyes look over his arm. His fingers give your throat a gentle squeeze, bringing you back to his eyes, "Does that feel okay?" Josh asks gently, his fingers applying just the smallest bit of pressure. You can feel your heartbeat slamming in your chest and your stomach doing a flip. "Y-Yeah, uh you can squeeze a little harder, if you want?" You say bringing your hand on top of his on your throat.

Josh's eyes look to your neck as he feels your hand, helping him tighten his grasp just a tad more. "I don't wanna hurt you." Josh whispers, his eyes looking into your eyes, "You aren't. It's, uh, nice." You say softly, his hold semi affecting your voice. "That's my line, 'I don't wanna hurt you', remember? I think you wrote it." Josh smiles shyly as he moves in a little closer. "Oh," you chuckle nervously. Fuck he's cute, "Maybe I am more of the ditzy bimbo type." You respond quietly, a subtle rasp to your voice. Josh smirks as he looks at your lips and back to your eyes, "I do love bimbos." He whispers as he brings his lips to yours, kissing you gently.

His kiss is soft, warm and gentle, he tastes sweet, like cinnamon, and his lips are softer than you thought they'd be. You kiss him back and soon your hands move to his shoulders, pulling him close to you. His hand lets go of your throat as he lays more against your front and between your legs, his hand in your hair.

His tongue enters your mouth and you can't help but moan into his open mouth, his fingers scratch gently at your scalp as he pulls your hair so he can kiss at your neck. You grind against him, wanting to bring him even closer still, "Fuck, Josh." You whisper as you pull at his shirt, slipping your hands to rest on the warm skin of his back underneath. "Do you want to take this to my bedroom?" Josh asks slyly, kissing and licking up your neck. "Yes, please." You whine, he pulls away, getting up and picking you up to take you into his room.

"I swear to God if there is a Pulp Fiction poster in there-"

"Let's just stay out here then."

[carpisuns]

Do you have any art tips? Also, What platform do you use for your art?

ngl, i feel kind of silly giving art tips because i really don't know anything lol and my skills are still very Underdeveloped. but here is what I've found most helpful as I've been trying to improve. (these are more general tips rather than specific technical tips—hope that's ok!)

Oh and I use photoshop and a Wacom intuous tablet :)

Use references! I look at references with pretty much every single thing I ever draw lol I’m incapable of drawing purely from my imagination 😭 but using refs is good practice anyway. Sometimes I draw things based on a single reference but often I end up using multiple references for one drawing.

Study art that you like. This has been huge for me! I’m constantly staring at other people's art both out of admiration and for education haha. When I discover an artist whose style i really vibe with, I like to try to break it down and pinpoint exactly what I love about their art and what their strengths are so I can maybe try to incorporate it into my own art. A few of the ones I've probably studied the most are @bugaboo-n-bananoir @anna-scribbles @jooitshere @shishitsunari @celerydays @picayunearts @leviaana @masilvi @buggachat @ladyblargh @yunyin @sabertoothwalrus — all super skilled and talented and i learn a ton just from enjoying their art!

Draw what you want to draw. I don't often draw things just for practice—I draw things because I feel like it. So instead of saying, "Man, I have to practice drawing X thing until I'm really good at it, and then I can finally draw the idea I have," I say, "Okay, I want to draw this thing and it's kind of out of my comfort zone and I don't know how to draw it but I'm going to try to figure it out and learn as I go." This might seem kind of backwards so hopefully it's not terrible advice lol but I've personally found it to be a helpful approach. Drawing purely for practice will definitely help you improve and is probably the method recommended by 9/10 dentists, but I am the 10th dentist who says, "nah i'm just gonna do what i want" alsfkdafj. My skills are limited but I don't want that to stop me from trying stuff, and it's in the trying that I improve. Basically, all the drawings I post are my "practice drawings." Because almost everything I've posted (unless it's like a headshot at a 3/4 angle asdlkfjasjf) was out of my comfort zone a bit and I was not confident i could pull it off but I just tried and worked at it until I thought it looked ok lol

Don’t worry too much about “style.” I feel like a lot of artists (including me) overfocus on finding/developing a consistent art style, but I think it’s better to just draw lots and build your skills and have fun! Your art style will come through naturally as you do that. Also, there’s nothing wrong with variety. Not all your stuff will look the same, and that's okay. And chances are that your style looks more consistent to other people than it does to you. Even if your drawings look different, they’ll all still have your fingerprints on it and feel like you :)

Give yourself credit for the things you create. It's so, so hard not to compare and get discouraged. Everyone suffers from art envy and gets frustrated with themselves—I definitely do—but it's really important to be patience with yourself. Growth is not a linear journey. There will be ups and downs, and that's okay. I probably get the most frustrated with myself for struggling with anatomy/full-body drawings and for taking a million years on every simple-looking drawing lol. But it's helpful to compare my current work/skills with my past work/skills. When I feel like I'm improving at a snail's pace or not at all, it's nice to be able to look back at my older stuff and see that yeah, I still have a long way to go, but I've also come a long way, and I'm capable of going even further. There is a huge gap between where I am and where I'd like to be someday, but I'm working on being inspired by that gap rather than intimidated by it.

Sorry this turned out so long,,, im a huge rambler lol. but I hope this is helpful. best of luck and happy drawing!! 🤠💜

[bratkook]

eleven months. (m) myg. one.

masterlist.

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

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

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

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

What a waste.

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

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

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

Well, that’s life. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wow, your customer service voice is phenomenal.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[amazingphilza]

study buddies :: cc!multiple x reader

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

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

tommyinnit

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

mans uses the screensharing feature like there’s no tomorrow

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

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

“your guess is good as mine”

“just cheat and google the answers!!!”

“fuck you”

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

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

“hey y/n”

“what now?”

“let’s play bedwars”

“oh my god shut up!!!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“fuck you that’s a 4!!!”

tubbo

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

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

CODING GO BRRRR

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

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

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

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

“oh yeah, what was it y/n?”

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

“oh nothing tubbo, nevermind!”

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

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

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

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

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

“we definitely aced this project”

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

“TUBBO. THE FUCK?”

ranboo

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

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

the other half is him making fun of you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i am a certified cpr person”

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

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

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

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

“arghhhh i knowww”

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

wilbur soot

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

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

who needs a thesaurus when you have vocabulary boy wilbur?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

philza

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

he’s an old man so /hj

but like honestly, he hasn’t been at school for so long, phil can probably only help with the most basic things when it comes to school

if you have a wack teacher that makes you collect data through surveying people, phil would be one of the best people to ask! straightforward and won’t take too much of your time compared to other people ahem,,

statistics things ! sobs

if you ever complain a lot about your classes and contemplating dropping out and stuff, he will def scold you hard

“ugh phillllllllll can i just like,, never go to school again?”

“do not drop out”

“argh fine, i won’t just ‘cause philza minecraft said so”

honestly if you get a high score in a big test like your sats/gcse’s (whatever you’re taking from wherever you are) he’d probably order you a small meal or something to celebrate :D

like how phil bought ranboo bought him food to his house, it would start as a joke but when you get your test scores back he’s like “YOOO GOOD JOB Y/N”

expect a left meat pizza coming to your house .

technoblade

like wilbur, techno is also helpful when it comes to history!

def knows a decent bit of literature too

besides that i don’t really see him being that helpful

even if he was supposed to be an english major

he will just get mad at the school system for teaching you useless things

“being in school is good but why do you need to know how to know if something is a triangle or not? i can obviously see with my eyes that it’s a triangle”

“i dunno! ask the person that made up geometry”

“just look at a kaleidoscope and be over with it, it isn’t that hard”

“that isn’t how it works—”

“bruhhh”

if you’re looking for the person to call while doing homework, he is not the person /lh

it’s either like 0 or 100 with techno

he can just completely not say anything and ignore you or go on a full rant about whatever class or homework you have

if you have an essay you need written, it will take a lot of bribing but he might take the opportunity if you are rich

“techno i’ll paypal you $10 please help me”

“no. i can make 10 times that amount in 5 minutes if i just started streaming right now”

“techno i don’t have that kind of money! pleaseee”

“no. instead of complaining, you can use that time to actually start you work”

“you’re the worst”

then you speedrun the essay and get an A just to spite him

[watchmegetobsessed]

Our song - Harry Styles

this one was inspired by the jingleball performance bc it was pure perfection and UGHH im obsessed.

dedicated to my dear friend @dontworrysunflower

disclaimer: the song Homesick by Dua Lipa is featured in this fic as an original work of Harry and the reader, but it’s obviously an existing song, I just thought that it would be the song they write

pairing: Harry x vocalist!reader

word count: 5.3k

masterlist

You’ve felt the adrenaline rush take over your body many times in your life and they were all different in some kind of way. The one you felt when you were about to write an important test in school, the one that bubbled through your veins when you got your first kiss. The one that rolled through your limbs and chest when you first performed in front of people that weren’t your parents and the one you felt when you got the news that you were chosen to tour with none other than Harry Styles as his vocalist, singing on his stage every other night in a different city and different country.

But none of those were anything like the feeling that takes over every time you stand on that stage, your microphone that’s labelled with your name right in front of you as thousands of people are screaming in the jam-packed arena. Though it’s not you they come to see and listen to, but you are part of the magic and it’s quite enough for you.

You could never be the one standing at the front with all the lights shining down on your frame, having every gaze in the place glued to you, listening to your voice. That brings the kind of anxiety you’re quite sure you wouldn’t be able to handle. You are perfectly fine standing in the back, being the support system while staying on the down-low as someone else shines at the front, in your case, it’s Harry.

You applied for the job with a reason, already having a huge appreciation for him as an artist, adoring his work so far, especially Fine Line. Upon hearing about the opportunity to be part of his tour, you didn’t hesitate to send your application in and following three auditions, you got the phone call that they wanted you on board.

He swept you right off your feet the first time you met him, but you didn’t expect less from him. Everything you heard about him being the most wonderful person to every walk the planet were proven to be nothing but the truth. You hit it off so easily and become close through the process of rehearsals. His odd little jokes, that funny laugh of his and the way he always peeks over his shoulder to meet his eyes with yours made you fall for him faster than you’d have ever thought you could.

Just as fast as your feeling for Harry developed, tour caught up on you and before you could blink twice, you were living on the road, always dressing from your suitcase, waking up in a different city every other morning.

The foreign studio feels a little odd, but still somehow familiar as you walk in with your water and notebook under your arm. Random studio sessions with Harry became a regular not long after tour kicked off. Harry’s creative juices were overflowing and he was aching to record his creations, constantly renting random studios near the hotel you lot were staying currently and one night, when some of you all were hanging out in his suit, he asked if you’d be down helping him record vocals for a song he’s been working on.

“I want to hear it with your voice instead of mine,” he told you leaning against the wall, a glass of whatever Mitch mixed him in his hands.

“Getting bored of your own voice?” you teased him, bringing his dimples out with the smile that plastered across his lips.

“Could say that. Are you up for it?”

There was no way you would have said no. So the next morning you found yourself in a studio somewhere in Sacramento, singing the vocals to a song no one else has heard other than you and Harry.

The tour has now reached Denver, you can’t wait to be on the stage tonight, but before that, you are having another quick session with Harry in the studio.

When you walk in, his head perks up from his leather notebook he always keeps on himself, filled with his scribbled lyrics. A smile stretches across his lips when his green eyes fall on your frame.

“Hey! Hope it’s not too early for you,” he softly says standing up from the chair as you put your stuff down to the small table in the corner.

“No, managed to get a good night sleep still,” you smile at him, taking a quick look around, though this recording room is just like the others you’ve been in.

“I think I figured out that part we struggled with last time. Changed up the ending a bit, would you mind giving it another go?”

You nod looking down at his notes, seeing the changes he has made in the vocals.

“Changed anything else?” you ask as you watch him get ready for the recording.

“Yeah, rewrote a few lines, think they are fitting better now.”

“Have you recorded them yet?”

“Will do now,” he tells you shaking his head.

Soon enough you find yourself standing behind the mic, headset covering your ears as you are waiting for Harry to start recording and the music to play in your ears. Once he shows up his thumb you do the same and a moment later the song you’ve heard last time you two were working starts flowing from the headset and you stare down at the notes in front of you, waiting for the moment when you have to start singing.

It takes you a few runs to nail it down, but when you finally do, you can see the satisfied grin on Harry’s face and you think to yourself that there’s nothing you wouldn’t do to make him like this anytime.

“That was fantastic,” he beams once you join him at the screens where you see your voice appear as a pattern over a straight line. Harry does his usual magic before leaving it be. “Mind assisting recording my part?” he asks turning to you with an excited smile.

Nodding you let him tell you what to do and once he is all set behind the mic, you start the recording and the song. You listen to him in awe. There hasn’t been a moment when you didn’t feel the shiver running down your spine when he started singing. You are convinced a choir of angels is hidden in his throat, because it’s hard to believe he is just as human as everyone else.

He sings the whole song three times before he joins you again, listening back to what you have so far. The song is coming along pretty well and you can tell by the time he finishes it, it’s gonna be perfect. Everything he does is just pure perfection, whether he likes to admit it or not.

“You know how it would be absolutely perfect?” he asks you on your way back to the hotel. The two of you grabbed a coffee as well, so now you’re sipping on the hot drink, enjoying the somewhat sunny weather.

“Hm?”

“I think it would be best if a female voice sang the whole thing and the male was just the vocal.”

“Who do you think would fit best for it then?” you ask, immediately thinking of singers that could be perfect for the song. It wouldn’t be the first time Harry would sell a song to someone else, so you’re not surprised he is thinking about this kind of change.

“Y/N, I found the voice already,” he chuckles and you give him a puzzled look. “You. You are singing the song, I don’t need anyone else.”

“I’m not a solo singer,” you protest.

“There’s no such thing as solo or not solo. You’re a singer and a bloody good one. I want you to sing it.”

“But it would go to waste, because I would never actually perform it.”

“How are you so sure about that?” he smirks slyly at you, immediately making you nervous.

“Harry, I don’t sing solo,” you shake your head stubbornly, but he rolls his eyes at you.

“You could just try it. Let’s just record the song next time with you in the lead and then we can talk about the rest.”

“I’m fine recording, but I will never perform it,” you tell him, but his look makes you think he has other plans.

When tour reaches Dallas, the song gets a version with you singing solo and Harry doing the vocals in it. And though you had doubts about the switch, listening back to it you can tell how much it helped. It really is better with a female voice, though you are still convinced it shouldn’t be you.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sell it to someone? I’m fine with that,” you ask him before the show in Dallas. You’re sitting on the table in his dressing room while he is painting his nails, his tongue poking out in concentration.

“I told you, I like it with your voice. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because I’m not a—“

“Fuck’s sake if you dare to tell me one more time that you’re not a solo singer, I’m firing you, Y/N!” he snaps, giving you a hard look, but you just laugh at his temper.

“It’s the truth.”

“Have you ever tried to go solo?”

“Not for years,” you admit and watch him screw the nail polish closed, pushing it aside, his hands lying flat on the table as he is carefully waiting for them to dry.

“So then how do you know you are no good at it?”

“Because I hated it back then, so I most likely would hate it now as well,” you state matter-of-factly, but Harry doesn’t seem amused by your answer.

“So you think you haven’t changed a bit in years? I hope you know that’s absolute bollocks.”

“Why are you so keen on making me sing solo?” you sigh, giving him a tired look. It feels like the two of you have been running the same circles since forever. It’s not his first attempt to get you sing more than just the vocals, he once wanted to do a cover and needed a partner because it was a duet and begged you for weeks to sing with him, but you didn’t give in. You just couldn’t.

“Because I think that you are a talented singer and I want you to feel the adrenaline rush performing gives you.”

“I do get that rush every time I sing behind you. That’s enough for me.”

Harry shakes his head pressing his lips tight together.

“That’s not the same as being in the lead. It’s a whole different world.”

“Yeah, one that makes me shit my pants,” you chuckle and he can’t push a smile back.

“Maybe we should just work on it. Your anxiety. I think we could actually make you feel better if we tried.”

“I still don’t know where this obsession with me being solo comes for you.”

Harry stands up, takes one last look at his nails before he steps closer smiling down at you softly and you bite into your bottom lip, realizing how close he is standing to you. His fingers tap in your cheek gently, running them down to your chin as he tilts your head up a bit.

“Just accept it, Love,” he smiles softly before stepping away and carrying on with his routine.

That evening, you stand at the back with the other two vocalists, eyes glued to Harry’s figure at the front of the stage, you watch him pour his soul out to the audience, interact with them and reach that state of mind you have never been able to get into. You know what he told you about performing is true, yet you are still terrified to do it yourself. It’s too nerve wrecking to have everyone look at and listen to you, so many chances to mess it up and make a fool out of yourself.

But when Harry’s eyes meet yours and he shoots you a warm smile, something shifts in you. The urge to have this connection with not just the audience and the song, but with him takes over your whole body and you make up your mind to at least give it a try.

Harry is ecstatic when you tell him later that night that you changed your mind. You see that sparkle in his eyes and it was already worth for you, just seeing him react like that.

“Though I have a few suggestions to change the lyrics.”

“You do?” he asks, seemingly surprised, but mostly amused that you had the balls to come out with it.

“Yeah. Just some tiny details.”

“Why haven’t you told me about these before?”

“Because it was your song. But if you want me to sing it, it has to be mine as well.” Harry stares back at you with a smile that’s filled with pride and joy, making your heart flutter in your aching chest as you think about performing solo.

“Our song,” he softly says nodding his head.

Arriving to Houston the two of you are quick to book a studio and work on the song. Harry lets you make any changes you desire on the lyrics, even says you did justice to it and that you should have spoken up earlier about your ideas. And then you record it.

It’s not that you have to sing the whole song and not just the vocals this time. You are completely fine with Harry hearing you sing, it’s the thought of performing it in front of anyone that’s not him, that’s what makes you turn into a wreck.

You record Harry’s vocals and once it’s all put together, you are blown by the outcome. You wouldn’t have thought Harry’s voice as the vocal would compliment you in the lead, but it’s just absolutely perfect and even you can’t find anything wrong with it.

“Love, this is what Heaven sounds like, I’m telling you,” he smirks at you from the chair beside you, playing the song for the tenth time, not able to get enough of the final product.

“You are so cheesy,” you shake your head, but feel the blush heating up your cheeks. His eyes linger on you a little longer before he turns back to the screen.

When the song is over he finally stops is so silence comes over the studio. Harry turns back to face you, his green eyes basically burning a hole into your head.

“So, when are we going to perform it?”

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea,” you sigh looking down at your hands fumbling with your shirt.

“And I do think it is. So I’m not stopping until you at least try it.”

Harry Styles gets what he wants. Always. And this time, no matter how hard you try to resist him, you just can’t deny this from him. Though it takes him time to talk you up, in Washington he finally gets you to give it a try in an empty stadium.

Most of the crew is out, since the building has been finished about half an hour before, so everything is perfectly set for tonight’s show when you walk out to the stage, following Harry in his heels. He asked the piano to be brought to the front along with a mic on it and another one on a stand next to it. The two of you quietly put on your earpieces, doing everything as if it was a usual occasion before a concert, only that this time the roles will be entirely switched.

“It’s fine, alright? No one is around,” he tells you when he sees how nervous you are to sing the song for the first time outside a studio.

“There are some backstage,” you mumble under your breath, not expecting him to do anything about it.

But he does. You watch him walk backstage, completely dumbfounded about what he is doing. He disappears from your sight and a few moments later you hear him shouting at the back.

“No one comes to the stage until I say so! Yea? Thanks!” he orders and then walks back as if he didn’t just boss around the whole crew.

“They will think you’re some kind of crazy celebrity,” you chuckle when he returns, a small smirk playing on his pink lips.

“Don’t care, Darling. Now sing you heart out for me.”

Harry sits on the piano bench, his fingers getting settled on the keys before he looks up to meet your anxious eyes.

“It’s alright. Just you and me, yea?”

Nodding you gulp hard and jump a little when he starts playing the melody the two of you have been working on for so long. You hear all the notes and you know you have to start singing, but you miss the opening. Harry stops and looks at you, as you move your eyes down to the ground, ashamed you messed up immediately.

“S-Sorry, I just—“

“How can I help?” he asks right away, not even caring about the fact that you messed up, focused on figuring out a way that would help you.

“I don’t know. I really don’t,” you sigh, feeling your nerves getting worse with each passing moment.

“Come sit next to me,” he then tells you motioning for you to join him on the bench.

“What?”

“Take your mic and sit next to me,” he repeats, scooting over to make you space. Hesitantly, you pull the mic out of the stand and walking over you sit next to him. “Now you are not in the center. Just listen to the music, watch my hands on the keys, okay?”

You nod, running your tongue over your dry lips as you hold the mic to your mouth before Harry starts playing again.

After the first few notes you close your eyes and when it’s time for you to start singing, Harry leans a little against you, giving you a kind of push to just do it. And it works.

It feels a little as if it’s not even you who starts singing, but it is. Your voice fills the empty arena along with the piano’s melody and keeping your eyes closed a little longer you let your mind settle. When the first verse ends you open them and watch his hands work on the keys, right as he starts singing the vocals, leaning a little forward so his voice reaches his mic.

It’s different. It’s electric and freeing, hear your voice through the massive speakers, to be in the lead and have Harry be just the support in the song. But it feels so right, better than anything you’ve ever felt.

Line after line, you hit all the notes and by the end of the song you are able to strip all your fears down and give yourself over to the music completely. As you sing the last few notes you feel Harry’s eyes on you and turning to face him, you are met with his warm, pride-filled smile and bright eyes, glued to you while his fingers press down the last notes.

The music dies down, the voice of the piano vibrates in the air a little longer until it completely disappears and the silence returns into the stadium.

“Love,” Harry quietly calls out for you and you turn completely towards him. “That was absolutely perfect.”

“You think so?” you ask, voice barely more than just a whisper, your eyes never leaving his gaze.

“I know so,” he huffs, smile widening. He brings an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into a hug, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead as you let out a breath you’ve been holding in for way too long.

He doesn’t try to make you perform that evening, knowing well it was enough for one day, but he does make you sing it with him in each city in the upcoming weeks. Before every concert, he empties out the area around the stage and the two of you sit down at the piano, singing your song until you feel comfortable enough to stand next to the instrument instead of sitting next to him.

The tour reaches New York and Madison Square Garden is getting ready to host Harry Styles for two evenings. The place is massive and you find yourself sitting at the edge of the stage when Harry emerges from backstage.

“Looks wild, right?” he asks sitting next to you, his thigh brushing against yours as he gets seated.

“Yeah. Pretty amazing.”

“This place has the most magical vibe.” “Yeah?” Turning to him you watch him take the arena in, his eyes glistening at the sight in front of him. You know it’s not his first time performing here, but it’s nice to see the excitement in his eyes regardless.

That feeling returns to your chest, the one you felt when Harry told you he wanted you to sing the song. The urge to be part of this amazing something that’s so much bigger than you.

“H?”

“Yea?” he turns to you smiling.

“Can I… Do you think we could sing our song tonight?”

You watch the pure surprise and excitement wash over his face, his smile stretching across his face as he stares back at you in awe.

“You want to sing it?”

Shyly, you nod your head and in a heartbeat his arms lock around you, pulling you into the tightest hug. The two of you almost fall off the stage, laughing together at his dramatic reaction.

“Of course we can sing it, Love. Would be an honor!”

Harry is quick to let the band know about the addition for tonight’s set and though everyone seems surprised, they are all supportive about your solo. As the time goes and the concert gets closer, you can feel the nerves building up and soon enough, you start to doubt your choice to sing the song tonight.

Right before it’s time to go on stage Harry takes your hand and pulls you aside, taking your face in his hands gently, making you look into his eyes.

“I know you are doubting yourself, but just know that I’m very proud of you, even if you decide to not sing the last minute.”

“I could do that?” you whisper, your hands finding his sides and you let them rest on him, a way to ground yourself in the windwhirl of your thoughts.

“Of course. I wouldn’t want to make you do something you don’t really want. Though I know you will be amazing if you choose to sing.”

Nodding you let a weak smile appear on your lips and you notice as his eyes flicker down to them before he moves his gaze up to your eyes. He then pulls you into a proper hug before walking back to the rest of the band and vocalists.

Everything goes as usual and once again, you can’t take your eyes off Harry on the stage. Just watching him perform fills you up with life, enough to keep you from running away. About halfway into the set, as the crowd is still cheering after the previous song, Harry jogs over to you.

“You ready?” he asks over the noise and before you could think about it, you nod your head.

Two guys from the crew pushes the piano further to the front and they help to set everything up as you awkwardly stand at the side. Once your mic is in the stand you walk over there, heart hammering in your chest, hands shaking like crazy.

“I have a special song for you tonight,” Harry announces into the microphone as he makes his way over to the piano. “Please welcome the lovely Y/N here, who is gonna enchant you with a song we’ve been working on lately.”

The crowd screams and you allow yourself to look around with a weak smile. So many people, you think to yourself, everyone watching you.

“It’s called Homesick, and it means so much to us, so we hope you’ll like it Justas much as we do,” Harry adds before settling on the bench and his eyes find yours. “I’m proud of you,” you see him say, only able to read his lips since the crowd is screaming so loud. “Ready?” he asks and you nod, taking a shaky breath.

He sends you a warm comforting smile before glancing down at the keys and then he starts playing. 

Just like the first time, you close your eyes, forcing yourself to focus on the melody and nothing else. The lump in your throat is quite uncomfortable, but you open your eyes and see that Harry is looking straight at you, nodding in encouragement, as his fingers push down the keys to the notes right before you have to start.

“Here, where the sky’s falling, I’m covered in blue, I’m running and I’m crawling, fighting for you…”

Harry smiles wide when your voice flows through the speakers, filling the whole place, making everyone go quiet in a heartbeat as the song carries on. You feel your chest slowly deflating, the nerves cooling down with each sung note.

“You give me a reason, something to believe in, I know, I know, I know. You give me a meaning, something I can breathe in, I know, I know, I know…”

The chorus comes out perfect, your voice melting together with the piano and you finally feel your muscles relax as you slowly let go of every toxic thought that’s been tainting your mind. Harry leans closer to his microphone and his voice gently joins yours in the next verse.

“There’s a crack in my window, a bird in my room, angels all over that watch over you…”

Chills run down your spine hearing his voice, your eyes never leaving his gaze that’s fixated on your standing figure. You get lost in him and the song, something that came from the both of you, a piece of you and him. Standing there, singing this piece makes you feel closer to him than ever and you desperately want this feeling to last forever, hoping the song never ends though you know it’s gonna happen.

“When I’m walking on water all my dreams have come true. Still nothing means nothing without you…”

Homesick is exactly the feeling that bubbles inside you when you think of Harry. Because there’s this man you love so much, who is a home away from home to you, yet you still feel like you can’t be home entirely. Not in the way you’d want to. But standing on the stage in the spotlight, singing together with him as thousands of people are watching the two of you, yet you still manage to forget about them, for a moment, you feel like you finally arrived home. You are there, with him.

“Tell my heart to lie, but I know deep inside it’s true. That I wish I was there with you. That I wish I was there with you, oh I wish I was there with you.”

He plays the end of the song without tearing his eyes away from you, and there’s just a heartbeat of silence before the crowd starts screaming deafeningly, but that short moment… is yours and his.

Tugging your hair behind your ears with your shaky hands, your eardrums on the verge of breaking as you let out a laugh that was kind of a sob as well, relief washing over your body. Harry is quick to jump to his feet and rushing over he envelopes you in a tight hug.

“I’m so so so proud of you, Love. You were everything!” he mumbles, arms holding you so tight you almost lose your breath, but you want him this close, or even closer. You need to feel him, because it doesn’t feel real. His hold brings you a sense of existence only he can give you.

“Thank you, Harry,” you breathe out when he pulls back to look into your eyes, the screaming hasn’t died down even a tad little.

“No, thank you, Darling. You shined like the star that you are,” he grins, playing a sloppy kiss to your cheek before his arms fall off you.

You’d die to stay in this moment a little longer, but the show must go on. The crew pushes the piano back and soon enough, the next song starts. You stay in your spot for the rest, but you keep catching Harry smiling in your way, always making you blush.

The end of a concert is always a little hectic, everyone is all over the place. Still coming off the high you just experienced, you head to the dressing room you share with the other vocalists. They are going on and on about how amazing Homesick was, and you somehow still can’t believe tonight happened. Packing your stuff you barely notice that the door flies open, but you see Harry appear from the corner of your eye.

“Ladies, would you please give me a moment with Y/N?” he asks and the girls are quick to leave the two of you alone. You stand there, kind of dumbfounded, not sure why he is acting so dramatic. Once the door closes and it’s just you and him, he stares at you, chest heaving, his hair wet from his sweat, but he still looks breathtaking.

“Harry—“

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” he cuts you off, your breath gets caught in your throat as you stare back at him, completely frozen. Opposite to what he just said, he remains standing in the same spot and you’re not sure what’s happening. “Can I? Please say yes, I can’t hold myself back for any longer,” he then adds.

“Yes,” you breathe out without even thinking about it. In a heartbeat, Harry crosses the room, chest smashing against yours as he wraps his arms around you, lips crashing onto yours in a kiss that almost makes you moan into his mouth.

It’s all a hot mess, teeth clashing, hands all over each other before his palms run down to the back of your thighs, urging you to jump. When you do, you wrap your legs around his waist and let him walk over to the table nearby, so he can place you on top, standing between your thighs as he keeps kissing you hungrily, his tongue melting together with yours in this sweet chaos. It keeps going on and on, neither of you wanting to let go of the other, but you are eventually forced to stop, coming short of air. Panting wildly, lips swollen from his kisses, you look at him to meet his gaze.

“You have no idea how hard it was to stop myself from kissing you on stage.”

“What?” you breathe out.

“Y/N, I’m fucking crazy about you and seeing you come over your stage fright, sing that song… our song, fuck, that did some unbelievable things to me. Please tell me you felt the same thing!” He is begging, not just with his words, but with his eyes as well and it crushes your soul entirely.

“I did. Harry, I always do when I’m with you.”

“Fucking Hell,” he breathes out before kissing you again. “You are… everything, Love,” he mumbles against your lips and you can’t push down the smile stretching across your face, hearing him say the same words he said right after the song.

“You’ve told me that,” you tease him, his gaze meeting yours as he flashes you his famous half-smirk, heart fluttering at the sight of him.

[wizkiddx]

heyheyhey idk if u do req but love your dad tom stuff! PLZ PLZ do tom helping his kids with homework but cant do it and reader has to help and its all fluffy 😩💕

ye im down to do req and this had me going completely ott cos its v cute (and a lot less angsty than what ive written recently aha) so apologies for my ramblings:

Summary: tom has the kids for a day and maths homework throws a spanner in the works - tomhollandxreader

implied smut + v slight reference to porn but basically just fluff I promise xox

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Tom had dealt with a lot of whining today. Nova and Leo were the absolute joys of his life, there was no doubt about it. Of course, he also loved you a hell of a lot too - sometimes to his detriment though, hence the position he was in now. 

You’d had a busy week at work and he had been away for the first half of it - leaving you as an almost single mother to a 5 and a 7 year old. So completely fairly, you’d asked if he wouldn’t mind watching the kids for a the day on Sunday, allowing you to go to a friends baby shower. There was no answer but to agree, Tom loved quality time with the kids and he wanted you to kick back and relax with you friends too. 

However the afternoon had not been nearly as idealistic as it were supposed to be in his head. You had left him only one real job (apart from the unavoidable essentials of keeping the kids alive with food and water, something you’d hope he need not be reminded about now). Really it shouldn’t of been that hard, it was just each kid had two pieces of homework. After convincing and cajoling the kids into sitting at the table which he’d already set up with Nova’s ‘Liverpool FC’ and Leo’s ‘captain marvels’ pencil case, the English was easy. 

In fact 5 year old Leo took great joy out of writing a poem with his Dad, which basically involved trying to rhyme any word with another - especially when he tried to convince Tom that all his completely fictitious words were real and worked together. A personal favourite had been ‘snakes’ and ‘palakes’ which Leo was convinced meant pancakes - arguing so vehemently Tom almost started to doubt himself on basic English. 

Thankfully though his eldest and most sensibly child eventually took him out his misery. If anyone had any control over the Holland boys, Leo and Tom - it was the Holland girls. You and Nova had both boys completely under you spell, often taking advantage of the fact too. It was only when Nova got bored of hearing Tom and Leo mock arguing, interspersed with the little boys giggles that Tom tried his absolute hardest to keep a straight face at, that she swooped in.

“Stop being silly Leo, mummy told you he’s not good at school!” She looked oh so innocent, eyes immediately flicking down to continue the little short story she was happily going on with. In response  Tom scowled, knowing your highly curious and intelligent daughter had asked you (for one reason or another) why he was not so academic. Yet instead of Leo bursting out laughing, instead he just nodded and accepted it too - making Tom scowl even more. Not even Leo thought it was a joke. 

So apart from his children apparently taking pity on his simple mind, it was all going smoothly. Perhaps, due to the thankful fact your children had inherited their brains from their mother - something Tom was forever thankful for, until he was shamed for his substandard intellect in the family. Then again though, he was Spiderman. So take that. 

Until Nova brought out her maths sheet. Then the afternoon quickly descended into chaos. It was fractions, something she hadn’t quite grasped from school yet - a concept that still hurt her head somewhat. Normally though it’d be fine, she’d bring the sheet to you and the two of you used ‘ girl power’ to figure it out… you prior experience as a tutor while in uni helping you know how to break through to her. 

Unfortunately Tom didn’t share this same experience. Nor did Tom share a maths qualification… something that had evaded him completely during his schooling career. Of course, it had never been a particular issue, acting didn’t require the use of maths and algebra and Tom was in a very lucky position of being able to pay someone to manage his finances from a very young age. So no, dividing 2/3 and 3/7 didn’t come the most naturally to him. Or at all to be quite honest. 

“I CANT DO IT AND GRACE IN MY CLASS COULD!” For context, Grace was one of her school friends, who forever liked to compare herself to the young Holland - especially because she was normally ahead. Nova had gone from quiet frustration, staring at the questions with her tongue sticking out slightly, to one of pure rage - yelling at her dad with tears in her eyes. Nova was normally incredibly intuitive, she always found it difficult when she couldn’t do something. Now, with a ‘teacher’ who was more useless than her - the frustrations inevitably bubbled over. 

“Hey, we can work it out, just calm-“

“YOU CANT DO IT EITHER YOUR STUPID “ She was just young and frustrated, Tom tried not to take it personally but … it wasn’t always easy. Chiefly because this was the height of offensive statement Nova knew - this was her version of adult explicit language. 

“Nova you can’t be rude.” He used his stern voice, something Tom very rarely used with his little girl. Though he never wanted to upset her, neither did he want her to think it was ever okay to be so rude to anyone like that- no matter how crappy at maths they were. It hurt him to do so but it was necessary - life lessons about the importance of being kind needed to be learnt. And it worked… if what Tom was aiming for was his beautiful baby girl’s eyes to brim with sparkling tears, her bottom lip quivering slightly. 

Instantly Tom’s eyebrows drooped, trying to fight his natural reaction to scoop her onto his knee and reassure her everything was okay. But as you had lectured him many a time before, he had to put his foot down once in a while. So instead, the father and daughter were locked in a silence and intense eye contact, until Nova hesitantly began to speak. 

“I’m sorry Daddy.” During which, Nova shoved her chair back, making it screech against the tiled floors uglily before running off up the stairs. Tom knew she was crying a lot. Knew this was going to take a bit of fixing. 

With a sigh of his daughters name, Tom popped his head into the living to check on Leo who had already finished all his stuff. Seeing him completely zombified in front of ‘paw patrol’ on TV, Tom trudged up the stairs. He knew where she was, when Nova was upset she always hid in the corner of her wardrobe and cried in the darkness. So after steadying himself with a little internal monologue of how to approach the situation Tom walked in and sat down beside the wardrobe - knocking on the door slightly. 

“Nova… can we talk please?” All he heard was sniffing echoing from the wooden chamber until she tried to shout through the door.

“Go-go… go away daddy.” It broke his heart, the way her voice wavered, making Tom pout - gently letting his head fall against the wardrobe doors. 

“I don’t want you to be upset beautiful…. And you did apologise which I appreciate. You know why Daddy got angry right?” Her sniffles heightened before she muttered a quiet ‘yes’. “And you are sorry? Because that might’ve made me really sad too.”

“I’m s-s-sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

“Then that’s good and we don’t need to cry. You want a cuddle little one?” Before Tom could even properly get up the door was being pushed open by her little hands, revealing a tear stained face and big glassy eyes looking up at her Dad. Swiftly Tom scooped her up and out of the cupboard, whispering to her while she buried her face in his chest. 

“Oh come here my little bean.”

//////////////////////

When you came home late that evening, only mildly exhausted from spending the whole day gossiping with your girls, it was weirdly quiet. All the lights were out in the front room, which made you close the door gently, thinking Tom had managed to exhaust the kids - and himself in the process. With a relieved sigh at the peace you pattered into the kitchen to get yourself a drink (it had been a little concern that Tom would’ve worked the kids into a hyperactive and delerious state that kept them up long past bedtime - which ultimately you’d have to deal with). The house was remarkably silent and though it was clear from the littered toys everywhere that it had indeed been Tom alone in charge, everything seemed pretty okay. 

It was only as you were about to head upstairs to join your hubby in bed that you realised the study light was still on, streaming through the small crack in the doorframe. Assuming Tom had just neglected to turn it off, in otherwords Tom being Tom, you nudged it open with your hand. Surprisingly though, there was your husband, hunched over the desk, looking almost angrily focused - between the computer screen and a piece of paper below him. Normally you would’ve just assumed it was another script sent over or an edit Harry had sent of another screenplay they were writing together. 

But no, the blatant red flag was the screen that you could see. A screen on YouTube, of a man pointing at a whiteboard of fractions. 

So with a soft wrist you wrapped your knuckled on the side of the door, even if you had technically already entered the room. The reaction had you stifling a laugh, it was as if you’d caught him watching something *less PG* the way he jumped out his seat, closing the browser immediately. 

“Love!! I -er … didn’t know you’d got back?”

“I just did.” You smiled gently, while walking into stand behind his chair, wrapping your arms round his neck and pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Soooo…. what’ca doingggg” The glee in your voice was evident, making Tom groan and shut his eyes. 

“I hate you, you know that right?” 

“No you don’t… but you were watching a primary school video on fractions, if I’m not so mistaken?” He sighed deeply, making a point of turning the paper with his scribbles over to obscure it. 

“Nova’s homework.. she couldn’t do it and neither could I, so then she basically screamed at me for being thick and udseless and then had a breakdown.” 

Now you felt guilty. This was a bit of a sore spot with Tom, he always for some reason felt inferior because of his academic ability. Which was stupid- mainly because he was the most clever and talented man you’d ever met. Just…. Just not at fraction. 

“Oh T… you could’ve just left it for me to do with her, I don’t mind.”

“That’s not the point Y/n.” He snapped a little, shrugging your arms off him and spinning in the chair so he could face you. “She’s my daughter and I should be able to help her! It’s not like it’s that hard, it’s just I’m unbelievable thick.”

“Tom stop. Look - you can do this I assure you, it’s just been a long old time ‘kay? Your rusty and that’s only natural.”

“I really don’t think I could ev-“

“Can I teach you? It’s just the method and then I promise you’ll get it.”

It took a bit of persuasion but eventually Tom agreed, letting you pull the corner chair forward to beside his desk so you could demonstrate it to him. To be fair, he really could do it- just a bit of familiarising on the ‘stick-change-flip’ method. The way the lightbulb moment literally caused his face to light up; scurrying to do the question for himself, tongue sticking out in the process; then presenting it to you proudly - well it had you melting in your seat. 

“See! That took all of 5 minutes and you got it.” You elbowed  his side by leaning forward in the chair, which instead of letting go, Tom reached and caught, before pulling you up and round. You landed with you bum perched on the edge of the mahogany desk, Tom now stood up- his legs in-between your parted thighs - your feet hooking round the back of knees. 

“It’s all down to my incredibly talented teacher.”

“No…. No I really don’t think it is” You mused with a soft voice, fingers instinctively going to the nape of his neck - twirling the little curls round your fingertips. 

“Well even so… I think I could teach you a thing or two too.” Never one to mull on anything, Tom’s tone had immediately switched to something a lot more… mischievous. 

“Not even going to ask about my day? Wheres the chat mr smooth?” He had to repress the grin at your smirk because as much as you infuriated the hell out of him - you also had this weird ability of making him feel so entranced and helpless. He relented with a sarcastic chime.

“Fine, how was your day love.”

“Good…. but I have a feeling you’re about to make it a whole lot better.”

That was all the signals he needed to lean forward, in doing so forcing you back until your back landed completely on the cool wood. His lips feathered yours, both hands pinned either side of your head.

“Oh darling… you have no idea.”

[fanfic-scribbles]

Smile

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Summary: Bucky gives you some reasons to smile.

Quick facts: Romance – Bucky Barnes/Reader – Female Reader

Warnings: Fluff, puns, cheesy jokes, so cheesy

Words: 3344

A/N: I’m going to admit it upfront, about 40 percent of the time spent on this fic was spent on writing it. The other 60 percent was spent on finding the jokes. Also, this story is semi-inspired by the fact that my face is not nearly as expressive as it feels (I basically look like the polite cat meme when I really try and I can’t do it for long before my face hurts too much) so this goes out to other people who get accused of resting bitch/asshole face. And get written up for it. Anyway, please enjoy this goofy little Bucky/Reader get together.

  ~

‘How do you make a tissue dance?’

‘Put a little boogie in it.’

Bucky snorts and coughs when he accidentally breathes coffee instead of air. ‘That’s disgusting,’ he texts back but Sam just replies with an obnoxious smiling face. Bucky shakes his head and goes back to his coffee. It’s actually not so terrible today.

He doesn’t hang out in a dive, but this coffee shop is a type of quiet he almost never sees in the city. It’s too far from the tourism path for convenience and just outside the neighborhood purview where there are many other local (better) favorites. It’s clean enough and decently sized, but it’s decorated like it was supposed to be trendy ten years ago and the place is barely staffed, to match its perpetually nigh-empty interior. There was a short-lived attempt at hiring another person, but after a ridiculous amount of turnover the owners, or whoever, apparently cut their losses and the only constants that remain are Bucky, the lone customer, you, the person actually working the counter, and your manager.

You’re nice. You always speak kindly to Bucky and, when you think you can sneak it, upsize his cup without comment or charge. Also, one time when his glove broke and slipped off, you hadn’t even commented on the arm; you’d even helped him stop panicking enough to see it hadn’t gone far and helped secure it temporarily with a rubber band.

Your manager, meanwhile, is a dick who glares at Bucky and once made a snide comment about him leaning too close to the register, and only talks to you in demanding barks. Like now– but the five minute “hushed” conversation is winding down and soon it will be safe for Bucky to go get his refill.

“I’m writing you up,” the manager says.

You jerk back in shock. “For not smiling enough?”

“It’s what we got marked down for, it’s what’s going on your record,” he says, turns on his heel, and retreats into the back to do jack shit. Bucky glares at his back as he goes. His harsh expression turns to a milder frown when he looks at you, hunched over and staring at the counter with a dead expression on your face.

He looks at his phone, looks at his empty coffee cup, and makes a quick decision.

“Can I get a refill?” he asks when he’s in front of you, startling you out of your stagnant misery. You look up at Bucky and after a second force an unnatural smile on your face. He winces on your behalf.

“Of course,” you say softly, and turn to refill the cup.

When you hand it back to him Bucky shuffles, hesitates, but finally asks, “Why are colds bad criminals?”

You blink. “Uh…why?”

“Because they’re easy to catch.”

You blink again, and then let out a startled laugh. Bucky smiles slightly at the sound, and smiles more at the more natural, smaller turn of your lips as you say, “That’s…that’s a good one.”

“It’s pretty terrible.”

“All the best ones are,” you say, and the door chimes making Bucky break away. But as he watches you talk to the delivery man like normal he nods to himself. He leaves with his coffee to start the day and fires a quick text to Sam: ‘Where do you get your dumb jokes?’

~

The next day when the door chimes and you see your one regular customer, you let yourself smile a lot more naturally than you have been. Your face is starting to hurt and your boss is probably napping in the back, so you take the chance to relax.

“Hi,” you say. “The usual?”

“Please,” he says, polite as ever as he hands you exact change and you go to fix his cup. When you bring it back he asks, “What did the fish say when he swam into a wall?”

“What?”

“Dam.”

You giggle despite yourself. Bucky’s smile is small and guarded, but you haven’t had a moment yet where you haven’t been grateful to see it. Maybe this ‘smiling’ business is all it’s cracked up to be. If only it didn’t hurt your cheeks so much.

But as he tips his cup to you and goes to his favorite corner, you find you don’t mind the ache as much.

~

Every time he comes in now, he brings a new joke.

“What do you call a fake noodle?”

“An im-pasta.”

“What does a clock do when it’s hungry?”

“It goes back four seconds.”

“Why did the bike fall over?”

“It was two tired.”

The delivery is fairly flat but there’s always at least the hint of a smile and, you don’t know, it might be his absolute seriousness that sells it, because every one of them raises your spirits. You don’t know why he’s suddenly telling you jokes. For anyone else you might think they’re flirting, but you don’t get that impression here. He’s handsome, always looks put-together in quality clothes even if they seem picked for comfort over anything else, and even before this he has always been unfailingly polite. If he wants someone, he has to have someone just as lovely. Right?

You can’t help but think about it even after he comes back. And the wonderfully terrible jokes, thankfully, don’t stop.

“Why did the mushroom go to the party?”

You keep pouring the coffee while you ponder an answer. “I don’t know,” you decide and lift your head as you hand Bucky his drink.

The way he smiles is very fetching– not quite a smirk, it’s a little too unsure for that, but it tilts up to the side and gives him a boyish charm that would make anyone weak in the knees. “Because he was a fungi.”

It makes a smile big enough for you to feel, but considering how self-conscious you are now you quickly tell him, “I liked that.”

“I know,” he says. “You smiled.”

“You can tell?” Maybe you aren’t as bad off as you thought. Or maybe he’s just being nice. But he seems honest, and he nods decisively.

“I get not being the most…expressive.” He shrugs. “But anyone can still see it, if they look.”

The implication that he cares enough to look stuns you both to silence. He ducks his head shyly and lifts his coffee cup in thanks before retreating to his corner. When you finally have working vocal cords again you say, “Have a nice day.” It might be the first time you’ve ever really meant it.

~

“What’s the opposite of coffee?”

Bucky’s eyes widen and narrow in quick succession as he goes from surprise to contemplation. He weighs your question with all the dramatic seriousness you could hope for before he says, “I don’t know. What is the opposite of coffee?”

You grin when you say, “Sneezy.”

His smile is bright and he nods his head. “Not bad, not bad.” He leans on the counter, looking more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him. It’s…shockingly warming. You have to remind yourself not to get too close. He showed up out of the blue and he can be gone just as quickly. Just because he’s nice doesn’t mean he has any attachment here. In fact, you hope he doesn’t– you’d question his sanity otherwise. “Why did Mozart hate chickens?”

“I don’t know,” you say, eager to hear the answer.

“Because when he asked them for their favorite composer, they said, “Bach! Bach! Bach!’”

You laugh– that is, of course, when your supervisor pokes his head out of the back and scowls at you. He should be happy that you’re ‘smiling enough’ but you know full well anything you do is never going to be good. You freeze whatever expression is on your face as Bucky’s mood darkens and your heart sinks. “Enjoy your coffee,” you say, infusing meaning into every word. That ekes out a small imitation of a smile as Bucky raises his cup and goes to his seat.

Your supervisor starts to stalk over to you but you are saved by the sudden ringing of a phone, and he blessedly turns on his heel and goes to answer.

You sigh and start cleaning up the counter. Bucky is in his corner, hunched over and quiet as usual. He looks fine, but you feel bad for the interruption, even though you get the impression he understands. Still, this is one nice thing you’ve had in this otherwise miserable job and you’re not going to lose yet one more good person to your superior’s shitty attitude.

You push out a roll of receipt paper, scribble ‘Why did the espresso keep checking his watch?’ on it, and stick it in your apron. You walk over to wipe down an untouched table and, before heading back, make a little detour to drop it next to Bucky’s arm. He grabs the paper as you’re scooting away (plausible deniability in case your boss comes out) but it isn’t until you’re back behind the counter that you realize what that just looked like. Does he think you just dropped your number? He hasn’t opened it yet. Is he trying to figure out a way to let you down? You suddenly regret playing into this so much; he was just trying to be nice, he probably didn’t expect you to latch onto it so–

He opens the paper, reads it, and shoots you a little smirk. You breathe a sigh of relief and mindlessly wipe things down and rearrange well-organized creamers and straws until Bucky comes up for his customary pre-leaving refill. You’re a little disheartened it’s that time already, but it means you’re that much closer to the end of your shift, at least.

“Why?” Bucky asks quietly. It takes you a second before you remember the receipt paper and you surreptitiously check the back to see the door is closed.

“Because he was pressed for time,” you say quietly as you hand back his cup.

He chuckles. “I like it,” he says and takes a sip. “Thanks,” he adds as expected, but then he winks and you…you just stare at him as he leaves.

Should you have dropped your number?

~

A few days later, Bucky is caught off his guard and pays for it.

“What’s this?”

Bucky doesn’t get to his coffee cup fast enough and Sam snatches it and reads. “Sam,” Bucky grumbles but there it is, Sam’s eyes go wide and he turns that stare on Bucky. “Don’t look at me like that,” Bucky snaps and snatches his drink back.

“You’ve been using my jokes to hit on a dorky barista?” Sam asks and follows him across the room.

“I’ve been using jokes from the site you steal yours from to share with the nice woman who makes my coffee,” Bucky says and sits in a chair. He never stays for Sam’s group VA sessions and he should have left sooner, damn it. “I wouldn’t use yours. They’re gross.”

“Potentially inappropriate for a lady,” Sam says. Bucky opens his mouth to argue but, no, that’s exactly it, even though Sam’s tone implies something completely different from what Bucky would have said. “What’s her name?”

“Bucky?”

Steve has never been more of an actual hero to Bucky than he is right now. Right on time to walk back home with Bucky, Steve wanders in, sees the two of them, and stops. “Oh, should I…”

“Let’s g–” Bucky is immediately stopped by Sam’s hand on his shoulder.

“Bucky’s got his eyes on someone,” Sam says, immediately centering himself as Bucky’s most hated arch-nemesis.

…Okay, maybe not, but if Bucky didn’t have real problems he would be.

“I do not,” Bucky grumbles, because he knows it’s pointless and Steve is immediately sitting in front of them and leaning in like he’s the last girl at the sleepover.

“Really Buck? That’s great!” Steve says. “Have you…are you going to make a move?”

“No,” Bucky says and quickly runs down the situation, hoping that it will clear things up but knowing his friends too well. Indeed, Sam and Steve share smirks before looking at him again.

“You’re a real hero,” Sam says, only partly joking.

“I hate you,” Bucky says, ducking his head down. He doesn’t really blush anymore, if he ever did, but the motion is instinctive.

“You don’t.”

“I wish I did.”

Steve grins, as does Sam, and Bucky wants to duck into a hole. Goddamn mother hens, they’re going to want to–

“Should we come by?” Sam asks and leans back in his chair. “Be real wingmen?”

“No,” Bucky says, harsher than he means to. Sam and Steve don’t look bothered– they’ve weathered worse emotional snaps than that– but they wait for him to explain and Bucky doesn’t know if he can. Because what if this is leading to something? Is he ready for that? He thinks he might like you, but would he be okay putting in the effort of getting to know you? What if he can’t handle it? What if Steve and Sam walk in and they’re all you see? Both of them are plenty distracting, and charming, while Bucky can hardly put one foot in front of the other, some days. And what if this isn’t leading to anything, you’re just nice, and it’s nice, but Sam and Steve find out and look at him with all the pity they can muster?

“I just…want to see it through. On my own. Whatever this is.” ‘Or could be’ he leaves unspoken, because hoping for anything still feels like too much.

“Okay,” Sam says first, because of course he does, but Steve nods along quickly. It’s enough to make Bucky exhale deeply and relax muscles he didn’t know he had tensed. He rolls his eyes and stands up to cover for it.

“You’ll keep us updated though, right?” Sam asks, an easy grin on his face as he lounges in the chair.

“Like I’ll be able to avoid it,” Bucky mutters, finishes his drink, and lets Sam know they’re okay by throwing the empty cup at his head.

~

The fact that you’re running out of coffee-related jokes is stressing you out. You wanted to keep on theme but too many more days of this and you’ll be scouring the internet for whatever jokes Bucky hasn’t used yet. There are some coffee-related puns, but…the ones you like carry a romantic hint to them, and you were hoping to save those in case Bucky showed any interest. So far you haven’t picked up on anything, but you’re also very oblivious, and your roommate thinks you’re an idiot and he’s obviously into you.

But he might not be.

You do what you’ve been doing since your boss snarked at you about flirting on the clock and get Bucky’s cup ready with maybe your favorite joke.

‘How did the hipster burn his tongue?

He drank his coffee before it was cool.’

And smile proudly at it. Your small handwriting is getting better– Bucky barely has to squint at it this time, and he gives you a conspirator’s smile when he slides his twenty-dollar bill across the counter at you, with the neatest print writing along the margins.

‘What do you call an alligator detective?

An investi-gator.’

It’s cute and you snicker to yourself as you gather his change and place it gently in his gloved hand. He doesn’t retreat to his corner right away, though, and shuffles in place. “I was…I just wanted to say…” But then his eyes glance to your side and his face freezes in an unfortunately familiar way. “Thank you for the coffee,” he says woodenly and raises his cup just so.

“Of course. Have a nice day,” you say as robotically as possible and watch him go. Your supervisor clears his throat pointedly and you pretend like the place isn’t as clean as it was since the last time you went around. But now you’re thinking. About how awkward Bucky looked, and how he mentioned wanting to say something…maybe…maybe he is open. To you. Potentially.

Tomorrow, you decide with a thrill of nauseating adrenaline. Tomorrow you’re going to bring it up.

~

The next day you arrive at the shop at your usual time in the pre-dawn cold only to find an extra padlock on the door and a note in the window.

You stare, dumbfounded, and read the note. You read it again. And again.

‘Out of Business.’

But nobody called you.

You immediately grab your phone and dial your supervisor’s number. When he doesn’t pick up you call it again because this cannot be real. The job was shit but it was a job, and you knew what to expect, and you’ll never see Bucky again, will you?

It takes almost half an hour for the asshole to pick up– or maybe more, as the sun is starting to show up– and upon answering, he snaps, “What?!”

“What happened?” you ask, just as unkindly.

Your boss grumbles unintelligibly but you wait. “Did you see the sign?”

“I was working yesterday; no one mentioned anything about this.”

“Corporate called last night.” He yawns loudly. “I tried to call you.”

That’s a lie if you’ve ever heard one, but your tongue gets tripped up in anger and he says, “Sorry but there’s no room at the other branches for you, your last check is in the mail,” and hangs up.

You stand there for a while, trying to blink away tears at the sudden upheaval of your life. You should have found a replacement job while you had a chance. You should have asked your co-workers where they were going. You should have given Bucky your number.

You stand there for a little while, debating spending money you shouldn’t on a nice breakfast to wallow in, when the sound of footsteps coming up behind you makes you turn around.

“Oh, Bucky,” you say and rub your face. You think you’ve managed to hold it in, but it’s chilly and any exposed skin feels frozen.

“What’s going on?” he asks and peers around you at the note.

“Um…” You gesture uselessly. “Apparently this location is no longer in business. Just found out.”

Bucky’s jaw drops. “That asshole didn’t even call you?!”

The amount of anger on your behalf startles you. Startles both of you, actually, but just as he’s about to say something you laugh and say, “At least that asshole isn’t my problem anymore.” You sigh. You have savings, and the other job, and there’s always some other crappy job waiting for someone like you. But there’s something here that won’t be, and you pull out your phone and start typing. “Um…Bucky…there’s something I wanted to say to you. But it’s hard to say.”

“Okay?” he asks. You squeeze your eyes tight, brace yourself for impending rejection, and hold out your phone.

‘I like you a latte,’ followed by your phone number, hopefully gets the point across. After a few seconds your phone buzzes and you jump and bring it back, hoping no one texted you anything terrible while Bucky was staring at your phone.

It’s a new number, and the text reads, ‘It’s hard to espresso my feelings for you.’

You look up at him and he’s smiling, mouth parted slightly, and you start smiling so hard your cheeks hurt. But it’s okay. “I only had two more coffee jokes left before that line,” you confess and save his name to his number.

“Maybe you can tell them to me over breakfast? My treat,” he says and extends his arm.

You don’t even have to think about it. “Your treat this time,” you say, and link your arm with his. “In return, I’m going to show you where to get some good coffee.”

“Oh I don’t know,” he smirks at you. “The last place had its perks.”

Lacking a good comeback, you push your face into his shoulder to muffle your laughter. He leans into you, and doesn’t pull away even when you’ve gotten under control.

It’s the beginning of a brew-tiful relationship.

[burnedbyshoto]

a brush of luck

— In a world where soulmates exist you can communicate yours with a brush of a pen. It just doesn’t help that you are a certified idiot with a skill in misplacing things. —

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pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: fluff, angst, soulmate!au, cursing

word count: 4,229

a/n: this is for the bnaharem collab and I was super horrible and was not ready and i just woke up and threw this together please dont hate me uhuhuhuhhh see the masterlist here!!!

message to join my tag list!

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“Hey, y/l/n, you forget this!”

Your hair was falling into your face, your face flustered, and your binders filled with paper seemed to be liquid as they slowly fell to the ground.

Kaminari stood behind you when you turned around. His lips were picked into a kind smile. It was a teasing one too by the small glint in his eyes while he held onto your backpack and phone. A look of self-realized stupidity washed over your face when your head threw back into a groan. How stupid were you, really?

“I’m so sorry!” you exclaimed, throwing your things onto the nearest desk. You felt the tips of your ears burn with embarrassment when Kaminari helped you slip on your backpack and pocketed your phone in the jacket pocket. “I swear I’m the most forgetful person in the world.”

“Well, you do really clinch the title of the person who would forget their head if it wasn’t on their shoulders.”

Snorting, you shoved him with your shoulder, and he helped you regather your things with a low groan.

“Let’s see the tattoo,” you grin, ready to head out once again. Groaning loudly, Kaminari didn’t seem to want to give in to your demand, but still, with a twitch of his eye and a shove of his sleeve, he showed off his arm. “You know what, I’m going to say it—”

“I’m going to say it, I don’t care that you broke your elbows,” Kaminari finishes the phrase with you with a snort.

“Do you think it’s the first thing out of their mouth or matching tattoo?” you asked curiously when you blond best friend also prepped to leave the classroom for the day. 

“I hope its the first thing out of their mouth, imagine how fucking ultra sexy foxy hot that would be,” Kaminari moaned, his eyes rolling to the back of his eyes at the thought. Gagging at the visual horniness of that thought, you walked away, grinning at the way that Kaminari stumbled over his feet to catch up with you.

This was the world you lived in, the world of soulmates.

You weren’t sure when they had first started, but you know that it wasn’t always a phenomenon that was around. When you roamed the internet looking at old, old stories on soulmates, these theories, these worlds were built on one single concept.

They wrote about a world of black and white for everyone until that fateful moment, or matching tattoos for everyone. But no, this world was much more complicated, much more detailed. Yes, in the world there were a lot of theories that ended up being true, but the thing they didn’t see coming was that every couple — every polyamorous relationship consisted of a unique theme.

Kaminari’s soulmate was linked with tattoo’s, and the purpose behind said symbol was unknown, unheard of until he met them. Yours, as you could guess and know, was also different. Pressing your fingers against the pen that sat on the inside pocket of your uniform jacket, you smiled when Kaminari’s arm was thrown around you.

“At least you’ve never lost or forgotten that pen of yours, that would be dangerous!”

“I promise I will never ever forget it.”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

You sat on your bed nearing midnight. You were cocooned into your blankets flipping through your Hero Lawbook that you were supposed to have read months ago, but now finally was. Humming to yourself, you read through the apparent laws and the not so evident laws.

For instance, there is a law that Pro Heroes are not allowed to eat off the edge of buildings anymore! American transfer students had littered so much it became a law!

Snorting to yourself, you flipped the page.

But something warm pressed into your forearm, the most heated energy that sent shivers down your spine. It was comforting as it was ethereal. The second your body recognized the feeling, the Hero Lawbook went soaring across the room, and you grabbed your pen that was waiting at your side for ages now. 

Hi, sorry I’m just able to get back to you. I had a bunch of homework and friends who just let me leave them.

Smiling to yourself, you twirled the pen in your fingers and scribbled down your response:

It’s all good, I’ve been studying this entire time too, was just bored and didn’t respond to you earlier today!

Your soulmate theme was straightforward and quite comprehensive — it was dubbed the Forearm and Pen theme (you hated that theme). You could communicate with your soulmate by writing with the pen on your arm, but it only worked with that pen, nothing else.

The year you were to turn sixteen, you received a pen from literally out of the blue. You remember celebrating New Year with your class in your first year at U.A.; it had been an enjoyable night! Everything in life was still going fantastic, and your class was finally past the excellent friend’s point and felt like a genuine family. You remember hugging and telling everyone good night, still being fifteen at that point, and stumbling back to your room exhausted.

When you had gotten back to your room, you didn’t even undress; simply tugging off your pants and removing your bra, you threw yourself onto the bed. But you had landed on something stiff and painful, groaning your hands shuffled for whatever it was that you fell on, and when you grabbed it, you froze at the sight of the white box. 

Was this a gift?

Your entire life, you had always wondered if you did have a soulmate, most people you knew after all had soulmate markers that appeared since birth. But you were perfectly normal. You saw all colors; you had no shared pain; there was no tattoo, no mind link, no dream meetings.

Nothing.

You were normal.

Sighing, you opened the box, hoping that it was from someone you at the very least respected.

Inside was a silver pen.

You blinked your eyes rapidly, unsure of what you were looking at, there were no initials, no engraving, nothing. 

It was an exquisite pen, and despite what you thought, it was very, very light. Frowning, your fingers pushed down on the pen, but there was nothing that came out, was there no ink?

Shrugging, you dragged it against your arm feeling the way that the cool tip delicately massaged your arm. It felt nice.

“Holy shit!”

Your eyes saw the pretty grey silvery ink on your forearm. It stood out against your skin, the ink appearing nowhere else but your arm, and then it hit you.

This was for your soulmate!

With excitement tearing through you, your exhaustion no longer bitting on your skull, but the overwhelming need to know that this was for your soulmate shook you awake. Twirling the pen in your fingers, you couldn’t help but start writing.

OMG HI

You sat there staring at your forearm, unsure as to what to do next. What do you do next?

Hey?

If your heart could be anywhere but your chest, you were nearly positive it existed within your throat at this very moment. This was nervewracking, holy shit.

Sorry, you don’t know me, but I’m ___ ___.

You frowned when you tried to write your name, it was stopping you.

It seems that we do have some rules to this entire thing.

They responded back to you, and as if they could hear you, you groaned loudly.

This soulmate shit was already stopping your excitement, it seemed.

From that very first night, the two of you were able to discover a few things. First off, anything too personal was not allowed to be written out. So names, location, and gender were the biggest ones. Birthdays were not, and you were quick to find out that both of you were still fifteen. Second of all, just because you couldn’t figure out where exactly you both were located, you did manage to put together that you were both in Japan. Third of all, your soulmate was a Hero in Training just like you and was a male. Last, of all, you were quick to realize that you were in love with the way your body felt like it was gently warming up whenever he messaged you.

I think I deserve a round of applause.

You grinned after writing your sentence, your eyes watching while the warmth filled your body and his writing slowly appearing on your forearm.

Did you not forget anything today? I find that hard to believe.

You had to suppress a scream.

WELL, IT HAPPENED! I GOT EVERYTHING I NEEDED TO BRING BACK TO MY ROOM WITH ME!!

Weren’t you the one who forgot to bring your entire backpack to school the other day?

NO! I said I almost did, but my bestie got it for me!

How do you forget everything? I think you should try to make a list to make sure that you always have things you need for the day.

... I do… but I always lose the list, and im always running late…

You’re the worst…

Congrats bbg, I’m your soulmate

The world really doesn’t want to bless me with a good life, it seems…

HEY, THAT’S MEAN!

The two of you banter for what seems like hours, the night sky fading from blackness to the deep blue of the sky right before the sunrise. You had spent the entire night curled into your pillow, your face shoved into the soft fabric to suppress your chortling snorts because you geniunely enjoyed interacting with your soulmate. But it was late, and you both had classes early that next morning.

Okay, asshole, I need to sleep! I got this stupid test tomorrow that I did not study for. I'll write to ya tomorrow!! Goodnight!!!

Don’t be rude to your soulmate :( but goodnight, and good luck on that test, sorry for keeping you up.

Smiling at his words, you put the pen to your forearm one last time.

I will never ever accept your apology for making me stay up, I love talking with you, goodnight soulmate, sweet dreams.

You placed the pen down, your eyes fluttering close, heavy with sleep. But still, no exhaustion could suppress the fluttering warmth in your body when words appeared on your arm. 

Sweet dreams, soulmate.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“Fuck, sorry,” you groaned when you sleepily slammed into the person standing in front of you. 

Blinking tiredness away from your eyes — poorly at that too — you focused up at Shouto. Grinning, you waved at your classmate, who looked almost as exhausted as you felt and definitely looked.

“It’s okay,” he nodded at you stepping to the side so that the two of you could walk side to side.

“You ready for that test today?” you asked after moments of silence.

You and Todoroki Shouto were not as close as you would like to be. Since day one, you had always had a thing for the duality of a man, and while it was mostly superficial feelings derived from the fact that he was attractive above anything else, it still made you awkward around him. At the time, your feelings were still holding you down, you always fully believed that you had no soulmate, so you thought maybe you could sweep him off his feet. It was rumored that his scar covered up his own soulmate mark, so there was no way for him to know who his soulmate was.

Selfishly and embarrassingly, you hoped that you could have him.

Then you met your soulmate, and things changed.

But now you and your classmates were all eighteen and held the world in your hands, yet you couldn’t speak to him usually still.

“There’s no test today?” Shouto stilled, his eyes narrowing in confusion, and your eyes screwed too.

“Isn’t it… Friday? We have a Hero Law test?”

“Y/l/n,” Shouto snorted a grin spreading across his features, “It’s Wednesday.”

If there was a god, he would shoot you right now.

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment while you walked faster to the classroom, Shouto keeping up with your pace easily, he was taller than you after all.

“Shut up,” you warned, your gaze not reaching Shouto’s who was staring at you.

“I wasn’t speaking.”

“I could hear you thinking!”

Shouto put on a smirk, his eyes teasing you, and his mouth dropping to speak, but there was a loud interruption.

“Y/L/N-CHAAAANNNNNN!!!!”

Both of you turned to see Kaminari chasing after you, his arms waving, looking out of breath.

“YOU FORGOT YOUR JACKET AND TIE!”

Shouto chuckled beside you, and you stared down to see that you were, in fact, only wearing half of your uniform. If there’s a god, he will end you now, you thought.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

You're not serious right now, are you?

Going on three years of knowing your soulmate, or at the very least talking with him, you thought you had a good understanding of who he was. He was strong, powerful, and kind. He came off a bit standoffish at times but was the dumbest person you’ve ever known. Common sense was not his friend, and that was okay. 

Even at times when the two of you had your differing opinions because it did happen, it never snowballed more into a small annoyance that the two of you would apologize for and move on. But this was something that shouldn’t have had become a fight, it shouldn’t have been anything more potent than a difference of opinion, but when you suggested entertaining the thought of when the two of you would finally meet, he was uncharacteristically cold. 

Hurt by his tone, you told him, and he said you to grow up until it became this written fight.

Why couldn’t you talk about meeting?

Why didn’t he want to think about what would happen when the two of you would meet?

It was getting ugly for no reason, a fight just to fight, and it was making you nauseous.

But he crossed a line that couldn’t be fixed when he wrote a simple sentence:

Just because you’re my soulmate doesn’t mean I have to love you, meet you, or marry you.

So there you sat, your bottom lip trembling with tears streaking down your blotchy face. He wasn’t being serious, was he? There was no way… no fucking way this was him. The warmth that flooded your body with his new message felt ice-cold, poisoning you from the inside out while you read it.

You're my soulmate, but I have no obligation to do anything with you now or ever. The world chose you for me, not me. I didn’t choose you. I don’t owe you anything here. Soulmates are bullshit and don’t fucking bother messaging me again if you expect me to fall in love with you just because our “souls are connected”

It was needless to say that you didn’t respond back, not because you felt like he should love you because of your connected souls, but because your sobbing and broken emotions left you curled into a ball, ready for a sleepless slumber to take you.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“You don’t look too hot,” Kaminari told you, hitting you with his foot when your bleary and puffy eyes stared at your best friend.

Kirishima and Mina, who were sitting beside him, elbowed him at the same time, berating him for his insensitive comment. You could feel Sero and Bakugou staring at you, their eyes concerned and curious. 

“What’s eating ya up?” Sero asked, and you found a rock-forming in your throat when you shrugged.

“Soulmate problems…”

“That was fucking obvious,” Bakugou rolled his eyes, taking a drink of his water. “Tell us the problem, not a stupid summary.”

Surprisingly that’s all it took for you to come undone, and you explained what happened with tears falling down your face and a sniffling nose. There was a lot to tell them about it, and you showed them the pen while explaining the entire story. They listened to every word you uttered, faces concern but taking in everything you said.

“You’re an idiot,” Bakugou spoke the second you were finished, his eye twitching while he glared at you. You swallowed thickly, placing the pen on the table while Bakugou edged closer towards you. “He’s not wrong, you know, stupid fucking soulmates are just this irrational solution to an irrational problem. Love is much more complex than that, and you don’t seem to have been fighting for him in that way either, sure you seem like good friends, but that doesn’t give you the right to expect him to love you. But he was a complete fucking dick about it, so I say kill him.”

Your — and all of the rest of your friend group — eyes widened at his words. With nothing to follow him up, you all continued to stare at him while he munched on his food.

“WHAT ARE YOU FUCKING EXTRAS LOOKING AT!”

“Is Bakugou a love expert?” Mina’s stage whispered to the group.

“He almost was, but then he said to kill y/n’s soulmate, so probably not anymore,” Kirishima responded back.

“SHUT THE HELL UP BEFORE I KILL YOU!”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

It took four days before the warm feeling shot through your body again.

Fuck, I'm really sorry, I was a complete fucking dick. I said a lot of things, and i didn’t mean to say I was angry and upset, and I know that you're upset, rightfully upset, but i don’t want to lose you.

No matter how long it took for him to get back to you, your heart squeezed with euphoria and poison, your hands moving to grab your pen in your pocket.

It wasn’t there.

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

You tore apart your room, trying to find the silver pen but you couldn’t find it.

Stay as mad as you want, I just… please talk with me soon, even if it takes five days. I'm sorry, soulmate.

Frustrated tears poured down your face, nausea almost making you wheeze when you stared at the words you wanted to reply to.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

One day after he apologized:

Don’t want to bother you, just wanted to apologize again and say that I miss you, talk to you soon.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Five days after he apologized:

I’m not really sure if this is normal or not… I'm not really… educated when it comes to romance and shit like that, especially when it comes to someone being upset with the other… my female classmates told me that I should expect a response from you soon. I'm really sorry, please write soon.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

So it seems that i’ve fucked up to the point of no return. I'm sorry, I miss you, I love you. Maybe one day I can reconvince you that I'm your soulmate for a good reason, but I guess I’ll have to work on that.

It had been fourteen days since he had apologized, and you sat in your room with tears streaming down your face. You wanted to respond back, but even fourteen days of tirelessly searching U.A.’s entire campus, ripping it stone by stone, there was no finding your pen. Every day without fail, he gave you an update of his day and another apology. Every day they got more hopeless, more pained.

This was his last message for a while, he needed time to work things out with himself now, the strain of this and graduation coming soon being too much to handle at the moment. 

Wiping your tears for what felt like the hundredth time within this past twenty minutes, you stood up on your wobbly legs to go downstairs for water. You were dehydrated and absolutely needed to get out for both fresh air and water.

Walking down the stairwell with swollen eyes, you groaned when you slammed into a body when you opened the door to the common area. 

Shouto blinked down at you, and you felt your throat clampdown at the pained look in his own eyes.

“Have you been—”

“Are you—”

You both spoke over each other, and despite the horrid feeling coursing through your bones, you cracked a smile.

“I’m getting water,” you explained with a shrug. “Long night ya know, just needed to replenish my system so I can cry some more.”

Shouto stared at you, and with horror, you realized precisely what you had said.

“Oh my god, ignore me!” you squeak, covering your face trying to move past him, but Shouto seemed to be curious now and followed after you.

“What’s making you cry?” he asked while you rush to the fridge to get your glass of water.

“What’s got you upset?” you counter downing the cup of water.

Shouto sighed, leaning against the counter of the island in the kitchen. “Would it be weird to say its soulmate issues?”

Swallowing the water in your mouth, you shook your head, a tired smile on your face, “Embarrassingly enough, my issue is also with soulmate stuff.”

A joyless chuckle escaped his mouth, and Shouto’s head tilted backward. You studied his jaw and the way his body seemed tense, too tense.

“What happened?” you press gently standing next to him, shouldering him gently.

“I fucked up, and now my soulmate won’t talk with me,” he says slowly, his head nodding while he glances at you. “I guess telling your soulmate you don’t want them is a bad thing.”

You snorted, nodding your head in agreement, “It’s not just a bad thing, its a super fucked up thing.”

Shouto sighed in agreement, and there was silence when you took another drink of your water.

“I didn’t know you were in contact with your soulmate, though,” you smile wistfully, your hand twirling the cup on the counter. “How’d you meet them?”

“I actually don’t know who they are,” Shouto admitted with pursed lips, and your eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “I have that soulmate thing where you write on your arm, and they can read it.”

Showing off his arm, you glanced at the pale skin. You nodded your head when he pulled out a silver pen that looked similar to yours.

“Well,” you shrug your shoulders, motioning him to write. “I’m no expert, but let’s see if I can help you get your soulmate to forgive you.”

“T-They haven’t responded to me in two weeks…” Shouto’s voice cracks, and the number burns a hole through your stomach. “I’ve written every day, but no answer. I don’t really know what to do, and all the girls in the class don’t really know what to do. Bakugou also said to go fuck myself over it, so I don’t think I really have had any help.”

Ignoring the twisting in your stomach, you willed your weirdness away to shuffle in your seat, “Well, you haven’t asked me, asshole, come on, let’s see what I can do.”

Shouto chuckles, his head nodding, “That is true, but to be fair, you’ve been anywhere, but in the dorm these past few weeks.”

“I lost something,” you mutter embarrassed, but you shake away your problems and point at his wrist. “Write an apology.”

You watched when he wrote, the words expressing his apology and love seeping through the silvery ink on his wrist. You told him to add things to delete things, but in the end, it ended up feeling like a genuine and sincere apology. You watched his pen leave his skin and a warmth shot through your arm. 

Shivering, you looked at your arm, trying to see what your soulmate had written to you even though he said he was going to stop.

The words he wrote appeared on your skin.

Your eyes widened when you stared at Shouto, who was also staring at your arm. 

Your eyes met in an almost world-altering way. This entire time, for three whole years, the two of you had been by each other and never knew. Midnight conversations wasted through ink instead of face to face. Your heart hammered in your throat, and tears once again poured from your eyes when you both stood at full height, staring at each other.

Todoroki Shouto was your soulmate — he was yours, and you were his.

“I’m so sorry, y/n, I don’t know what happened to me. You didn’t deserve that, and fuck, I’m so sorry—”

“I lost my pen, and I couldn’t respond back, I forgave you, but I had no way of reaching back! But I was always forcing myself onto you—”

You both interrupted the other, and now you stared at each other, drinking in the presence of each other and belittling yourselves for not knowing sooner; looking at it now, it was just so obvious. You can’t help it and pull him into a hug. His strong arms wrap around you, and you can hear his hammering heart on your ear, and it fills you up with the familiar warmth when he writes you. This seemed to be a brush of luck it seems.

“Can I kiss you, soulmate.”

“Please do.”

[frenchphobic]

long fucking post on why a c!dream is a shitty person and probably should not have a redemption because it is unpog

honestly i just want to refute dream apologists thats why im making this post. i think that dream as a villain is interesting but i think that trying to make him out to be secretly a good guy is just bad ngl. also /roleplay and all

tw for abuse and mentions of suicide

dream as a villain

dream is a villain. he is chaotic evil according to wilbur, deliberately does not stream to appear less sympathetic (and yet), and is set up as an antagonist to tommy who bears the title ‘hero’. dream is not a good person, no matter how you look at it or try to justify his actions.

‘but he wants to unite everyone to be a big family :((’ the ends dont justify the means believe it or not. having a vaguely positive goal does not excuse the actions you’ve done. it also goes hand and hand with saying dream is correct for punishing tommy the way he did because he acted up. if i socked you across the face and then suddenly said ‘sorry there was a roach on ur face’ does that make it okay? probably not i still punched you, enacting an unnecessary amount of violence. thats a very simple analogy i will admit and there are more complex comparisons. another example off the top of my head is say a child just scribbled all over you walls with crayons. would hitting them be a justified answer? if u said hes thats really fucked of u go seek help u loon. violence as a punishment is very toxic, just because it gets the job done does not mean it is okay. at the end of the day, you still committed this act and the harm you caused is real, having a good motive doesnt suddenly make it okay.

‘but tommy causes all of the conflict’ the disk war wasnt even caused by tommy, it was sapnap and then tommy got involved. and the reason why tommy even caused conflict was because of the discs, because he wanted them back. and most of the time there was a level of antagonism from another party, such as schlatt exiling him, dream taking the disks in the first place, dream threatening l’manberg. and if dream wanted to end the conflict so badly, why didnt he just give tommy back his disks? tommy upfront said everything started with the disks, so he wants them back so he could end the conflict. notice how after tommy got his disks back he has been staying out of conflict, apologizing to everyone, and the only bad thing hes done is try to scam people but everyone does that. this would have been the most peaceful option, yet dream chose the path that would further antagonize tommy which then draws everyone else into conflict. why did dream need to have leverage over tommy so badly? why did he want to hold power over tommy so badly? its because of control, and that’s ultimately dreams end goal. sure he wants a big server family, but would said family have a free will?

‘but dream is sad’ the thing is dream is completely at fault for everything that happened to him. he pushed away sapnap (and george ig). he tried to take control over the server and their possessions. literally everything that happened to tommy. literally everything involving ranboo. villains can be sympathetic, i am not arguing against that. but it does not mean that they should be left off the hook. that doesnt mean u should ignore the shit theyve done because ‘oh no theyre sad’ because it doesnt make anything better. dream had this shit coming for him.

now people also skirt around calling dream an abuser. which is fair ig, its a very loaded word. its much easier to say manipulated. that being said, dream can classify as abusive. and no, tommy is not abusive. abuse is about control and a power imbalance. dream has power over tommy, but tommy does not have power over dream, at least not in the way dream does. he’s taking back power to stand up for himself, dream uses power to control.

the reasons i listed for why dream is from the Domestic Abuse Intervention Project so if u want a source on that, there you go.

using coercion or threats: dream often threatened tommy, such as the pit thing and often employed violence on him. while normally this could be attributed to Normal Minecraft Player Go Smack. minecraft mechanics cannot always translate to real world since violence is pretty normal in minecraft however we also need to consider the context of the scene. dream gave an order, tommy refused, dream applies violence, tommy submitted. thats why its a threat, it has tangible effects that can correlate to real life.

using intimidation: dream blew up logsteadshire as a punishment. dream also destroyed tommys items anytime he visited. dream also hit tommy with his axe i believe. he killed mushroom henry, one of tommys pets.

Using Emotional Abuse: dream guiltripped the shit out of tommy for just hiding things and pinning the blame on tommy for just wanting his own private items. he definitely played mind games on tommy, pretending to be his friend. honestly i probably dont even need to go as in depth because it was so obvious.

Using Isolation: putting him in exile in the first place. destroying the bether portal so no one could visit tommy anymore. i really dont think i need to expand upon that.

Minimizing, Denying, and Blaming: dream in tommys stream when he got trapped said that exile wasnt that bad. he does shift the blame onto tommy for logsteadshire being blown up, even though dreams reaction was entirely unjustified for not listening and hiding.

Using Economic Abuse: see this is where i attempt to parallel minecraft mechanics to real life. obviously, there is no monetary system in place, so when i mean economic, i will use valuables such as armor, food, etc in place of currency. the idea behind economic abuse is to limit the victim’s resources so that they are dependent on the abuser and cannot escape. dream only really allowed tommy to have the armor he gave him while not giving access to armor so he does not regain a sense of power, and in the prison stream, dream holds all the potatoes which puts him in a position of power over tommy. this argument is more ambiguous i feel cause the whole minecraft mechanics thing is kinda weird so u don’t necessarily have to take this part in.

i feel like i need to emphasize this very strongly because dream is not a good person. abuse cannot and should not be a response to someone. its an awful mentality to have. i just want to prove the point that dream is not a good person, his reasons absolutely do not justify his actions.

what makes a good redemption

redemption arcs are tricky. when done right they are great. when done poorly, its a slap in the face. rn im going to establish a formula to what makes a good redemption with an example.

the most well known example of a good redemption is zuko from atla. first, its the magnitude of what theyve done and why. zuko did commit some shitty actions, since he was in a position of power in the fire nation but its because he is a child being abused and wanted to regain honor. zukos real awful acts was season 1 and the whole betrayal thing. thats not to say that zukos actions suddenly are okay, he did shitty things. but its something that can be traced to a higher entity or seem less malicious then the other villains. the thing also about the magnitude of actions is that there is a certain point of atrocities that there is no redemption. some people simply cannot be redeemed because the actions they commit are so ingrained in their character or the action itself has serious moral issues that it would just be wrong.

the next is acknowleding what they did was wrong. a genuine reflection on the self and analyzing what they did and why it was not okay. zuko realized what he did to uncle iroh was bad for example. he turned his back on his father, realizing he didnt and shouldnt seek acknowledgment from someone as heinous as him. its pointing out your actions and going ‘hey, this wasnt right i should not have done this’ and not even excusing ur actions. its also going straight for the root of the problem and figuring out to stamp it from the source. just because a character is sad does not mean they are reflecting, sometimes they are attempting to garner pity. it has to be direct and clear acknowledgement of the injustice.

and finally, an important part about redemption arcs is the actual redemption part. its when you make amends. zuko made amends with katara by trying to help her get revenge, he fought against the fire nation and tried to make things more peaceful in his rule. he apologized to iroh. an important part of the amends section is that it does have to be a genuine desire to change and become a better person, not to change a person’s perception of you. the thing is u cant expect a person youve hurt to forgive you. you cant expect people to be sympathetic towards you nor should u attempt to make urself sympathetic. u shouldnt be expecting a pat on the back or an award. redemption is about internal and character change.

why dream should not be redeemed

ive already established the key points to a good redemption (imo) but heres where dream falls short. his actions are extremely heavy so redemption may not even really be possible. abuse is not something you can wave off so it does cross to the point of fucked up. acknowledgement of what he did was wrong? all he said was that he changed, yet never explained why he changed or was too vague. he needed to label specifically what he did and bring it up. attempting to make amends? he’s been doing the exact opposite in fact he continues to manipulate tommy and ranboo. its not a genuine change. he is still repeating the cycle and has given no indication of ceasing. at the moment he does not have any signs of redemption.

and the thing is most of the attention around a dream redemption comes from either justifying his motives (which i do want to emphasize does not make anything suddenly okay) and because he is sad in prison sad face. these are not good reasons. its gonna pain me severely to bring this up but snape from harry potter does have some form of sad character ig yet he very much abused his authority to bully children as old as 11 just because he said ‘aight gonna die’ doesnt suddenly make his general bigotry and abuse suddenly okay there is a threshold. again im so sorry for using harry potter as an example none were coming to mind and i needed a popular one i do not like harry potter please dont say i do i would pass away.

and the last thing to consider is the audience. keep in mind that the audience is composed of minors and while yes there are adults, minors are the main component of the fandom. keep in mind that there are quite a few people who can relate to tommys character because they might be in the same position or have gone through his experiences. tell me what kind of message does it send to that audience that abusers can be redeemed. this is not a narrative u should push to this audience in these situations and the writers are seemingly aware of it. remember how in exile tommy spiraled into a suicidal mentality? consider how fucked of a message it would be if he just committed suicide instead of escaping abuse and attempting to recover from his experiences. tommy did an excellent job in not going that route and having a message of ‘it will not get better’. its the same thing here. victims are not obligated to care for or forgive their abuser, and portraying an abuser as sympathetic might fuck with the message a lot, even change their perception in that ‘oh, maybe my abuser was right, maybe they had a reason for treating me the way they did’. this is not to say that every victim watching this will internalize this message, but people also look up to these characters. there can be a degree of influence from the story onto oneself and thats the dangerous part.

conclusion

all in all dream is a shitbag asshole and probably shouldnt get a redemption because it would not be pog thanks for coming to my ted talk.

[hookingminor]

close quarters (3) - andre burakovsky

a/n: hi! sorry it’s been awhile I've been in the middle of moving and it’s been hectic! I hope this makes up for it since it’s a little longer than the other parts! anyway, like always, please let me know your thoughts and I hope you enjoy some jealous!burky and friend!josty sorry this is like all tys im so sorry lmao

word count: 3,928

one / two / three / four / five

-

The next morning Andre was out before you could even try to make up for the night before with apology pancakes. You lounged around the apartment for a few hours, hoping he would be back after practice but when the afternoon rolled around, you gave up. You had your own errands to run, and if he wanted to avoid you, you could avoid him.

It’s not like you had nothing to do except sit around all day, so you began your furniture shopping. The landlord had contacted you saying the unit would be ready for move-in a few days before the lease started if you needed it. Had it not been for the, now, awkward atmosphere you’d created because you couldn’t keep your libido in check, you would’ve rejected the offer and waited until the first of the month. However, you’d fucked up whatever shot you had with Andre and wanted to get out of his hair as soon as possible.

Though it wasn’t like he was around for you to be in his hair.

You would have made him aware of your plans had he been home, but from the hours of nine in the morning to nine in the evening, he was nowhere to be found. And when he was home, he was tucked away in his room and away from you. For a whole week, save for the three days he was on a road trip, Andre avoided you like the plague. The only times you saw him were in passing as you took turns entering or exiting the apartment.

It was a careful dance you both performed, tiptoeing around as to not bother the other person just in case that night came up in a conversation. Which was probably smart on Andre’s part because you did want to talk about it. He didn’t have to feel the same, but you wanted to apologize and clear the air at least. The last thing you wanted was for Andre to tell Tom, who would tell Taylor, how you came onto him wantonly. Your cheeks reddened at the thought of being humiliated like that.

So, for a whole week, you’d barely seen him. You spent your days out and organizing your stuff for your new apartment. You’d ordered all your furniture items and had them delivered to the building, frequently running over to guide the delivery men through the complex.

All you had left to do now was pack the few things you’d brought to Andre’s and return your spare key, which you’d probably just leave on the counter with a note that said ‘bye’ since you never got the chance to speak to him.

Your last day at his apartment was filled with packing your suitcase and bags, making about fifty laps through the rooms to double check that you had everything. You really didn’t want to have to come back because you forgot something stupid.

But honestly? At this point you’d just replace whatever you accidentally left behind with something new to avoid another awkward run in.

A knock sounded at the front door as you finished packing up the few spices you’d bought for the kitchen. Andre’s cooking skills borderlined on nonexistent and it’s not like he was going to use the chile and herbs so you figured you might as well take them with you.

You answered the door to reveal Tyson’s cheerful face, one that was way too cheerful for before noon.

“Uh, hi, Tyson,” you said, slightly confused at his arrival, “Andre’s not here at the moment.”

“I know. He’s at Gabe’s watching the game. I’m just dropping something off for him,” Tyson answered, ruffling the bag you hadn’t noticed he was carrying.

“Oh, well come in,” you said, opening the door wider for him to enter.

Tyson walked in and over to the couch, resting the bag against the coffee table. You let him be and resumed your packing, assuming he would be leaving soon anyway.

“Are you moving out already?” He asked suddenly, tearing your focus away from the box you were currently stuffing.

“Yeah,” you huffed out, “I found a new place on 36th. I’m just finishing up the last couple boxes and then I’m out for good.”

“Is Andre not helping you?” Tyson asked as he took a spot beside you at the countertop.

“No, we’re kind of… not talking at the moment?” you said, though it sounded more like a question, “I didn’t want to bother him with something I can do alone.”

“Not talking?” He repeated with a smirk, “Sounds like an interesting story, please share with the class.”

“It’s not that interesting, I promise,” you chuckled lightly, hoping to steer the conversation elsewhere.

“Andre, literally, never shuts up. If he’s not talking to you something obviously happened,” Tyson said.

You gave him a sideways glare to let him know you really didn’t want to talk about this, but he sat there expectantly as he waited for you to continue.

“I may or may not have tried to make a move on him,” you explained with a blush, “And it may or may not have been well received. And he’s been MIA for a week, so I haven’t had the chance to apologize.”

The smirk on Tyson’s face fell when you reached the end of your sentence and his brows furrowed instead.

“Wait, you’re telling me he turned you down? Burky? Turned you down?” He reiterated slowly.

“You don’t need to keep saying it. It was bad enough when it actually happened, I don’t need to relive it,” you muttered, breaking his gaze as your cheeks flamed even hotter.

“Sorry, I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I just don’t understand why he did that. He seemed pretty interested when I asked him about it,” he said. That caught your attention.

“You asked him about it?” You insisted, focusing on the last few words he said.

“I probably shouldn’t—,” Tyson stammered, noticing the mistake he made too late.

“No,” you interrupted, “No, you have to explain yourself right now. What did you ask him?”

Tyson looked at you hesitantly, and he knew there was no way out of this.

“I, maybe, asked him at the golf course after we first met if he was planning to do something, but he said no. Then I asked him if I could try something, just to get on his nerves,” he added the last part quickly, “And he said no to that as well.”

“So he’s not interested?” You asked, dumbfoundedly. At no part in Tyson’s story did Andre ever say he was into you.

“He definitely is. You should’ve seen him, he was so defensive. I think he just doesn’t want to try anything because of your roommate situation,” he gestured vaguely to emphasize his point.

“That’s so dumb, we aren’t even roommates. He was doing a favor for a friend. This was always temporary,” you countered.

“I never said it was smart, I was just saying what I thought,” Tyson held up his hands in surrender.

“Men are so fucking stupid,” you mumbled under your breath. If Andre was actually into you and not acting on it because of this, you were going to kill him.

“Yeah, I can’t say I disagree,” he said, laughing lightly.

“Well, I want to be out of here before he gets back, so I hope you don’t have any plans,” you sighed, taping off the last box you’d finished packing, “You’re helping me build furniture.”

“You don’t want to talk this out with him?” Tyson asked, moving from his spot to help carry a heavy box you were struggling with. You dropped your extra key on the counter before scribbling a note saying that you had everything moved out.

“If he wants to be an idiot, I’m not going to stop him,” you replied confidently, grabbing the suitcase and duffel bag you’d stashed by the door.

-

You drove yourself and Tyson to your new complex, and you were thankful for the extra hands so you didn’t have to make more than one trip.

Using your new key, you entered through the front door and were met with the tons of boxes you’d been piling up for a week now. You dropped your boxes and bags by the kitchen, which was the only uncluttered area of the whole apartment. Furniture covered almost every inch of the main living space, and you were internally dreading the hours it would take to build everything.

Tyson was just realizing just how much shit you had stocked up, but it was too late for him to back out now.

“This is going to take all day,” Tyson said, jaw falling open.

“I hope you’re good at reading directions then,” you replied, turning to give him a wide smile.

The next seven hours passed in a blur, most of it consisting of you shouting at Tyson for misinterpreting the instructions and him getting confused about which screws went where. You ordered pizza about halfway through the day, which led to more arguments about what toppings to get, but you’d rather die than eat a five meat pie.

Once the last piece of furniture was complete, your bedroom dresser, you both fell on the couch in a sweaty haze, out of breath and sore from lifting.

“Thank you for your help today,” you said finally.

“Don’t thank me yet, you’re going to owe me a favor one day,” Tyson replied, letting his head fall on the back cushion. You rolled your eyes at his statement, but he spoke again before you could say anything.

“Actually, I know what you’re going to do for me,” he said, sitting upright to look at you with a devious smile. You raised your eyebrows at his proposition, indicating for him to go on.

“You’re going to be my date to the charity dinner this Saturday.”

-

Despite your refutations, Tyson made it very clear you couldn’t get out of the event. At first, he blackmailed you with the furniture building and that you owed him, but that wore off quickly when you stopped feeling bad about soliciting him for help.

He called you about four times on the day of to make sure you were still planning on going.

“I’m serious, Y/N. If you’re not ready to leave when I get there in an hour, I’m taking you as is. And if you don’t want to look like a slob when you see Burky, I suggest you be ready,” he insisted for the hundredth time.

“I promise you I’ll be ready. Now I’m hanging up so I can shower,” you groaned out, tired of his constant chiding. You ended the call and tossed your phone on the bed. You’d come to terms with being kidnapped for the evening, but a part of you still wanted to ditch last minute just to upset Tyson.

After your shower, you dolled yourself up, putting on the new dress you’d bought for the occasion. It was a form fitting black number, not short enough to be scandalous but still hugged your chest in the most flattering way possible.

Maybe you had gotten it with the intention of wanting to make Andre feel at least a little jealous, but that was beside the point. If he didn’t want to ask you out, you wanted to make him eat his words.

You were finishing the final touch-ups with your makeup when your phone rang once again.

“Hello?” You answered, not needing to read the ID to know who it was.

“I’m parked out front,” Tyson said.

“I’ll be down in five,” you replied.

“Wearing something presentable, I hope?” He said, voice raising at the end of his sentence. You didn’t answer him, deciding it was better that he saw for himself just how presentable you were.

Tyson’s reaction was everything you hoped it would be and more. He leaned against the side of his car, scrolling on his phone when he heard your heels click across the pavement.

Giving you a low whistle when he saw you, he tucked his phone back in his pants before clapping loudly.

“Wow,” he gushed, “Can I get a spin?”

You laughed at his praise and gave him a dramatic turn, flipping your hair for extra effect.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to impress someone,” he hooted, opening the passenger for you.

“Play your cards right, and you might get lucky tonight, Jost,” you teased, sliding yourself across the seat.

“In another life, baby. Another life,” he said wistfully, climbing into the driver’s side.

The drive to the arena took less than thirty minutes, but the time passed quickly as you updated Tyson on your new job and he explained what you were to expect from the night. It was mainly just for the big donors, much fancier than the regular events they did for ticket-holders.

He mentioned that it would be filled with inane conversation that bored him to death most times, but he’d have an excuse to be more lenient on the mingling since you were with him. You weren’t quite sure how that worked, but it didn’t matter much to you.

“Do you know if he’s bringing a date?” You asked timidly when he’d parked the car.

“The guys usually don’t bring dates to fancy events like these unless they’re serious about them, so no. It’ll mainly just be the wives tonight,” he answered.

“Then why are you bringing me?” You asked.

“What can I say? These events are a little boring, and I am in desperate need for some drama,” he replied with a sly smirk, and you knew agreeing to this was already proving to be a mistake.

“Great,” you whispered to yourself, “I can’t wait.”

Tyson ushered you into the vast space that was now decorated with a stage and multiple tables where the ice rink would normally be. Servers floated around with flutes of champagne, and Tyson swiftly snatched two when one passed by. Handing you a glass, he offered his arm for you to take, and you both made your way to the large group of hockey players who stood with their significant others.

Gabe was the first to notice the two of you join the group, welcoming you with a bright smile.

“Josty! About time! Everyone else is already here,” his voice boomed across the table and everyone else’s gazes flickered to the two of you.

“Who do you have with you?” Gabe’s wife, Mel, asked.

“I’m Y/N,” you said, introducing yourself and reaching over to shake her hand.

“This is Burky’s roommate that I told you about,” Gabe said to his wife, but everyone at the table heard. The few guys nodded in agreement, now giving you longer looks to take you in.

“Actually, we’re no longer roommates,” you chuckled, “I moved into my new place last week.”

“Andre wasn’t around to help her move, so I stepped up. She’s here to repay that favor,” Tyson added, making it clear to everyone there that you weren’t actually together on a date.

“Ah, I see,” Gabe said knowingly, and all the guys exchanged a look. It was clear there was something being said that also wasn’t, but you didn’t know anyone well enough to call them out on it or ask.

“I hate to steal your date away from you, Y/N, but us guys have to go do our rounds,” Gabe said after a moment, pushing his chair out to stand up. You knew he would’ve been whisked away from you eventually, but at least he was leaving you with a group of women who seemed nice enough.

-

Andre’s eyes found you the instant you walked through the doors. He would’ve been completely blown away by how gorgeous you looked tonight had he not seen who you’d come with.

You’d come with Tyson.

His friend, Tyson. The same friend who egged him about you a few weeks ago.

Andre instinctively stood up a little straighter, peering over the head of whatever donor he was currently talking to. Tyson was leading you to the team’s table, your arm wrapped around his.

How did Tyson even know you? As far as he was concerned, the only time he’d met you was that one day in his apartment. It didn’t seem like he’d gotten a good chance to talk to you that morning, and Andre doubted Tyson would be as bold as to ask for your number in front of the guys.

The donor was listing off some statistics from the season, but everything went over Andre’s head as he watched you mingle with the group. Only now was he noticing your attire for the evening: a tight black dress where your breasts were spilling over tastefully.

He felt his chest tighten as he saw Tyson’s hand drift from your arm to the small of your back. You tossed your hair over your shoulder as you took a seat at the table, and the other guys excused themselves.

Andre saw them begin to disperse into the crowds, and he took this as an opportunity to excuse himself from his conversation, hoping Z could continue on without him.

He maneuvered his way through the busy bodies, apologizing when people would call out his name to engage in discussion. Stepping into Tyson’s path, he cut the young forward off with a gentle, but firm, hand to his chest.

“Got a second, Josty?” He asked quickly, pulling him aside before he could agree.

“What’s up, man?” Tyson asked.

“You brought Y/N as your date?” Andre questioned even though he knew the answer, “I didn’t know you guys talked.”

“Yeah, well, I stopped by that one day to drop off your shit, and she was packing. It looked like a lot, so I offered to help. We drove all her stuff over, and I helped build some furniture,” Tyson explained casually, as if the answer was common knowledge.

“And you asked her here on a date?” Andre asked, but there was more bite in his voice than he intended.

“Is that a problem?” Tyson retorted.

“I told you to leave her alone,” Andre insisted.

“Why? Do you have feelings for her? She told me about the disastrous night you turned her down, so I don’t think it’s that,” Tyson recalled, crossing his arms for effect, “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go talk to some people.”

Tyson walked around Andre’s tall frame, leaving the man to simmer alone.

Andre didn’t want to admit that Tyson was right, especially to him. Andre was into you, and he’d fucked up any chance he had when he panicked and ran away.

He regretted his decision the minute he closed his bedroom door behind him that night. He closed his eyes and let his forehead hit the door, kicking himself for ruining the moment. You were right there in front of him, lips plump and ready to be kissed, and he panicked.

Andre hadn’t expected that night would take a turn and that you would be looking up at him with lustful eyes, and he didn’t know what to do. He overthought the situation, and before he could process what was happening, he was pushing you away and running down the hall.

Now, the same point was being driven home once again. He fucked up. He didn’t kiss you, and then ignored you, and now you were here looking hot as fuck and on the arm of someone who wasn’t him.

Andre saw you leave the table and make your way over to the bar. Before he could stop himself, he was following you there, his excuses becoming even more short when people tried to grab his attention.

“Hi,” he said, catching your attention as you waited for the bartender to return with your drink.

“Oh, hi, Andre,” you replied curtly. You were wondering how long it would take for him to see you out; not that you were awaiting his arrival, though.

“You look great tonight,” he complimented as he fidgeted with his hands.

“Thanks,” you said, tapping your fingers along the bartop.

“I’m sorry about the apartment thing. I would’ve helped if I had known you were moving,” Andre persisted.

“You weren’t really around for me to tell you about it,” you declared, “And don’t worry, Tyson handled it.” Except Andre was worrying about it. He was worrying about Tyson handling you, and he wanted to not think about that.

“I’m sorry about all of that,” he apologized again. Andre wasn’t one to be at a loss for words, but it seemed he never could find the right ones around you.

“Again, don’t worry about it,” you placated, giving him a reassuring smile though reassured was far from how you wanted him to feel. Thankfully, your drink had come and Tyson had appeared at your side.

“There you are, babe,” he said to interrupt your conversation. His hand reached over to lightly grasp your hip and pull you gently into his side, “I haven’t seen you in awhile, I just wanted to check in on you.”

Andre didn’t bother to try and hide the murderous glare he was giving Tyson for pulling you away. You felt the tension between you increase tenfold, and you brought it upon yourself to break it before they started yelling.

“We should get going, but I’ll see you around, Andre,” you said, breaking Andre’s focus so he turned his gaze to you. His eyes softened immediately, and you could see the remorse hidden behind them. You gave him a shy smile before allowing Tyson to lead you away from the table.

You’d walked about twenty feet before Tyson opened his mouth again.

“He’s seething,” he said quietly, leaning down to say it into your ear. You knew Andre could see you, and you knew this little gesture would upset him even more.

“Good,” you said happily. It was only fair he suffered a little bit if he was going to be a dumbass.

“I’m going to get my ass kicked at practice on Monday,” he muttered.

“I bet if we leave now he’ll be even more furious,” you suggested, turning to give him a pleading look.

“You really want me dead, huh?” Tyson chuckled, steering you towards the front entrance.

“Hey, it was your idea to bring me. This is on you,” you emphasized.

“I know, I’m hoping I don’t regret it,” he sighed, “We’re getting ice cream on the way back.”

You laughed at his statement, nodding your head in agreement. You’d had enough social interaction tonight, and the pot had been thoroughly stirred thanks to yours and Tyson’s charade.

Andre watched from afar as you and Tyson left the arena, his hand resting near your ass as he escorted you to the exit. Tyson stopped occasionally as he said his goodbyes to those who tried to talk to him, probably making up some excuse as to why the two of you needed to leave.

Andre still had a bit of time left before it was acceptable for him to leave as he had drawn the short end of the stick this time around. His hands tightened around the glass he was currently holding, blocking out whatever Mikko was trying to tell him. Andre was glad he hadn’t driven tonight because he planned on getting trashed before the night was over to get the images of you and Tyson together out of his mind.

[theravencawsatmidnight]

Pink Chains

Pt 4

Punk! Kyotani x Bubbly F! reader. Aka my favorite cliche trope. It lives in my head every second of the day.

Kyotani owns a grunge /punk apparel shop after leaving the Sendai Frogs after a incident with the Black Jackals. He designs his own clothes and hires Oikawa & Iwaizumi as his employees. Everything goes smoothly for awhile, till you walk in; pink dress, big smile , and bubbly personality. His whole life stops in that moment. 

Tags / @kozushiki . @zopzoop. @haikyuu-but-low-iq . @mochababes. @milkbreadcat. @derpeedoo . @galagcica

Kyotani closed his store down early like he said he would and went to the beach with his friends for some volleyball. It was a little hot and not too crowded. No one ever had to worry about buying a volleyball because Oikawa kept one in his car ‘just in case he needed it’. Mattsun met up with the three telling them Yahaba would be here in a few minutes too, Kyo was still on edge over what happened to you this morning and the night before but he needed to get it together when Yahaba got here.

“ ou Oikawa! When you gonna let me ink you?” Mattsun asked from the sand, he was sitting with Iwaizumi.

“What?!” Oikawa caught the ball Kyo tossed to him and out a hand on his hip looking at them with disgust. “And ruin this flawless skin?!”

“Ill hold him down” Iwa told his friend.

“What? No . Iwa chaaaaannnnnn”

“Sounds good to me “ Mattsun pretended to get up. “Ive got my kit on me”

“ NO NO NO” Oikawa dropped the ball running to the water only to be chased by the two and tackled into the ocean.

Kyotani pulled his shirt off rolling his eyes, ‘fuck its hot ..”

“Been awhile Mad Dog “ said a voice from behind him

Kyotani was about to get in the water to help harass his friend when he heard the voice, his chest twitched and he glanced over his shoulder to see Yahaba standing next to all of their towels and cooler, he had on a pink shirt with tan shorts and sandals. Kyotani tossed his shirt to his towel going over to his old teammate looking everywhere but at him. He just needed to explain himself, explain hes trying to be better, tell him about you..

The only noise was his friends yelling and splashing in the background so no one knew he was here yet.

“Well? I canceled a meeting because Mattsun said you wanted me to join you guys for volleyball”

“How is.. Being a lawyer”

“Pretty good, is that all?”

Kyotani rubbed his sleeve looking up at the sun till he saw spots and had to look away, “ not really..”

“Well can you tell me? Im a busy person and i promised Mattsun id do one game with everyone”

“I got my brand off the ground.” Kyo finally said, still not meeting his eyes.

“ uh huh,” he took his phone out to check messages

Dammit Kyotani come on.. Its just Yahaba.. It shouldn't be so -

“Apologize to Bokuto yet?” he asked, texting this time.

Kyo finally looked at his friend with big eyes. “No, i , have not had the chance and i… “ he made a fist and rubbed his back feeling the sun on it start to burn. “ … im scared ill lash out again”

Yahaba stopped texting to look up at his friend. “..scared?”

“I have .. someone i want to hold on to and if they see me like that i.. “

“Someone? You mean what i think you mean? Someone is interested in you?”

“Came into my store.. Yahaba you would not believe it unless you saw her, ask Iwa and Kawa and Mattsun. Look im.. Sorry for how i was in highschool, really. Im trying to start over since the Sendai Frogs and keep a low profile,im trying to be better. I just want my friends there with me.”

Yahaba sighed tossing his phone on a towel and pulling his shirt off. “ fine fine.” he picked the ball up tossing it to Kyo “its all good, now lets play some volleyball”

It was a good afternoon for everyone at the beach; Kyotani had all his friends around him and everyone was cool with one another. They played a few games of volleyball and Yahaba teased Kyo about his little girlfriend wanting to know everything about her. Iwaizumi was relieved everything worked out for Kyo, he really did want to be better. Oikawa had someone else to tease now besides Kyo and Mattsun was spending his time drawing new tattoo ideas in the sand on his towel.

Kyo was sitting with Yahaba watching Iwa and Kawa toss the ball back and forth for a bit, it was almost time to come pick you up. He took his phone out to send you a message but decided on a video instead, it started with the camera on Iwa and Kawa, then drifted to Mattsun and his idea, then to Kyo and Yahaba.

“ ill be there in a little bit sweetie” he smiled and Yahaba snatched his phone.

“y/n chan!!!”

“Yahaba!!!”

The happy boy got up running off with the phone with Kyotani chasing after him.

**

Meanwhile you were in the library doodling between studying. Kio and Yukio had not bothered you much and you just wanted to leave and be with Kyo. during the day one of your professors gave you a flyer about an upcoming Gallery and wanted you to participate in it but you needed to come up with a new design and concept. Some doodles were scribbled out and some had question marks next to them.

“Hmm.. something,... new….” while you were browsing the web your phone dinged and you saw you had a video text. You pressed play and squeaked instantly at the video. It was so cute! Seeing Kyo run around and laugh made you feel really good. The video ended with Kyo tackling Yahaba into the sand and Iwa and Kawa and Mattsun dog piling them. Kyo snatched his phone and panted at it with a smile. “Im on my way sweetie” he said before it ended.

Quickly you shoved your notebook into your bag and hurried out to the main hall to walk to the exit. A lot of of other people were leaving too and you could not walk any faster to get by them. Yuiko and Kio spotted you after leaving a class and decided to follow you out close behind.

“That boyfriend of yours is bad news” Yukio said.

“Who just hits another person for no reason?” Kio added.

It sent shivers down your back and you pulled on Kyos jacket to hug it and try to walk faster.

“Do you ..? hear that? A man said.

“It sounds like .. screaming?” added a woman

“No its more.. Like music but ? is that even considered music?” most of the people in the hall rushed to the exit and you couldn't help but chuckle at what you heard. It was the song Matssun was playing in his shop.

“We are gonna get kicked off the campus,” Oikawa said, closing the car door.

“I think that's the plan.” Iwa said waving awkwardly at some women walking by them.

“So are you gonna tell me which one she is or do i have to figure it out?” Yahaba ask Kyo, who was leaning on the hood of his car with his hands in his pockets. “You can figure it out” he told him, a little smug.

Mattsun sat down by Kyo nudging him. “Not a typical friday for you”

Kyo shrugged his shoulders. “ i wouldn't want it any other way”

You had finally made it outside and politely pushed by some people to see Kyo and his friends, the music was coming from his car and he had brought everyone with him to come get you.

You couldn't help but squeal and run over to him leaving the two girls behind you clueless. Everyone you passed watched but you did not have a care in the world.

“Kyoooooo!!!!!”

Yahba looked up from his phone and nearly dropped it. “No. no way man. Shes the OPPOSITE of you?!” he looked at Kyo who had a huge smile on his face, “ HOW THE FUCK!!!” he looked at the others then you again.

Everyone shrugged with asmile and you ran over between Kyos legs wrapping your arms around him letting out a giant sigh of relief. Kyo squeezed you very tight and you did the same. Everything was better now.. Having Kyos arms around you, his scent lingering off of him, his heart beat against yours.. Everything was okay now.

“Hows my happy girl?” he asked pulling back , his hands falling to your hips rubbing lightly.

“Super good now!!!” you jumped hugging him again.

“I..--i ..” Yahaba was speechless.

“Sweetie this is Yahaba, he was also on our team”

“Nice to meet you!”

He got red in the face and Iwa elbowed him a few times while Oikawa teased him.

“So whos been giving you a hard time y/n?” Mattsun asked standing up and stretching, giving the students a evil eye.

Kyo pulled you too him and you pointed to the two girls holding each other. “Uhm, they were but what are you gonna do ?”

“Oh no, not me.”

Kyo pat your hips and you stepped back so he could get up. He rubbed his sleeve and made his way to the two scared girls. Kyo leaned down to their level looking them over.

“Uh..we …” they both tried to say.

“Leave my girlfriend, alone.” he told them both

“ O-OKAY!!” they ran off and Kyo went back to you and his friends giving you a kiss. “Ready for the zoo sweetie?” he kissed you again and pulled your giggling body close.

**

[haikyuu-appreciation-club]

Hey, I love your work and I was wondering if you could do Tendou with a crush that has Kleptomania and is very quiet and insecure about it but he doesn't know that and everytime he ask if they want to go somewhere like the manga store they say no and he thinks they don't like him. But then they tell him and he comforts them.( Sry if it's to detailed and long🥺)

hello anon!! ty for the request and your kind words :)

detailed + long is very helpful when I write so no need to apologize!!

im not very familiar w/ kleptomania sooo i had to do a little research but i hope i can portray what you go through and such in this story (also sorry it’s kinda short)

anywhoo, enjoy <3

kleptomania: an impulse control disorder that results in an irresistible urge to steal

•Tendou + a S/O w/ Kleptomania•

warnings: none

genre: comfort + fluff (a hint of angst if you squint but 99% fluff)

character: tendou

tendou had his eyes on you for quite a while

you were one of the few people who were always kind to him and treated him like a normal human being 

at first, he had his doubts about you and your intentions

most of the time people hung around him as a joke or to get something out of him mostly involving semi or ushijima so you couldn’t exactly blame him for being suspicious 

you had never understood why people were so cruel to tendou, he was truly one of the best people you knew

you had grown pretty close to him over your highschool years and throughout each year, people would always try to feed you nonsense about the red head

you would always smile and shake your head, letting them know that you knew him better then they did 

after hearing about things like that, tendou had slowly began realized that you actually cared for him and allowed his feelings for you to flow on the other hand, you had let your feelings for him flow a long time ago

you and tendou loved spending time together at school 

this is why tendou didn’t understand why you turned down his offer to spend time together after school

he had brought up visiting the manga store with him a few times but you had always come up with an excuse every single time

at first he understood that you were busy and had things to do, so he didn’t mind waiting for another day

but overtime, your excuses got sloppy and confusing 

that was when tendou started to realize that maybe he had been stupid for letting himself get his hopes up

he started to distance himself from you, growing colder and colder by the day

what tendou didn't know is that you would have loved nothing more then to accept his offer

you just didn't want him to have to find out about your kleptomania

you could never control yourself when it came to going to stores and would steal even the smallest of things, just to satisfy the urge

it wasn’t something you were too open about, you were ashamed of your actions and usually stayed quiet about these things

I mean if you were to talk with someone about it they would just be disappointed in you and look at you like some type of criminal and the last thing you wanted was for tendou to see you in that light

you didn't know this mindset would cause him to stray away from you though

not being able understand his actions lately, you thought you’d talk to him about it

you two usually talked and spent time together everyday so it was strange for him to be so distant

“Hey Tendou, had something been bothering you? You’ve seemed upset lately.”

“You don't have to keep pretending to like me Y/N.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m not an idiot Y/N! if you didn’t want to go you could have just told me, you didn't have to make up an excuse.”

you knew that you couldn’t run away from this situation forever but you didn’t think you’d have to come clean so soon

“I’m sorry for making you feel like I didn't want to be around you Tendou, I do want to go but I just can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?”

you sat down and tried to explain your situation to him the best you could

he felt guilty for acting the way he did instead of asking you about what was going on

he didn’t even take a second to try and think of any alternative reasons you could have for brushing him off

he knew you were afraid he would view you differently which is why you didn’t let him know right off the bat

he also knew how it felt to be judged and shunned because of who you were

this wasn't something you could control and he understood that

in his eyes, you were still the same amazing person he had fallen for, your kleptomania didn’t change that

he would support and care for you though the good times and the bad and help you get the professional help you need if you chose that path

even if you didn't reciprocate his feelings, he would be by your side every step of the way

he enveloped you in a hug

“Thank you for letting me know Y/N, sorry for overreacting. If you want, you could come over to my house and we can pick from some of the manga I have there!”

your heart stopped at the closed eyed smile he flashed you

“I would love that.”

“Awesome!! Text me and we can plan everything.”

he took out a pen and grabbed your wrist, scribbling his number in tiny writing before ruffling your hair

“See ya Y/N!”

you watched his figure retreat, heart in your throat

he treated it so normally, not looking at you differently while still acknowledging the struggles you were going through

he was always so good to you, that was one of the main things that made you fall for him

that day you went home with a smile on your face and butterflies in your stomach

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