#i want them to have a meal with each other

[menelausblues]

tuesdays.

꒰ your roommate xavier is odd and quite specific. ꒱

𖥔 ݁ 12.5k. no evol, roommates to lovers au. video game developer x student mc/reader. xavier is a shy guy. rafayel cameo as your quirky neighbor. xavier and mc cook together. somewhat slow burn? domestic fluff. misunderstandings. jealousy. light angst. humor. ❀ ݁ this is old, very old. n i've re-written it for several fandoms atp but it belongs to xavier now n this is the last time i'll put it out there lmao.

mdni.

having xavier as a roommate doesn’t necessarily cause you any problems in your everyday life, but boy is he a rather peculiar man from time to time.

sharing space with him is an overall easygoing and even enjoyable experience due to his reserved and borderline reclusive nature.

he’s quiet, rarely has guests, and doesn’t pester you. he’s also quite domestic, which seems to indirectly benefit you. his areas are well-kept and consistently clean. he stays on top of household finances and shopkeeping. he enjoys cooking and often feeds you. 

when you’re gone for the entire day from morning until night, either at work or shuffling through campus, you come home to an extra serving waiting for you. though, he’s never anywhere in sight. ( admittedly, you did eat his extras without permission the first time, but now, he delegates them to you in space-themed bento box you think he’s had since he was a boy. )

considering he sleeps quite early in order to wake up at the first breath of every morning, and you finally consume your second meal of the day alone in the dimly lit kitchen at 11:30 pm, there’s never  an appropriate time to thank him. so, you instead leave a sticky note that reads, ‘thank you for the food. i ate well!’ on the coffee machine, the first place he looks each morning. you know this because every day, promptly at 7:15 am, you’re roused from your slumber by the pleasant aroma of coffee brewing and clinging to the air, seeping through all the walls. it’s a habit of his that cultivates comfort, a sense of home. you don’t even like coffee, but his routine is oddly like an alarm, a signal to your body that the day is beginning and rising with him. shortly after his brew begins, your eyes flutter open, humming contentedly as you take in the scent and stretch the sleep out of your limbs. xavier is kind enough. he doesn’t make many demands of you and asks for a reasonable amount to rent his spare room. of all the people and places you could have secured last-minute housing for university, you’re quite fortunate to end up with xavier. 

he’s a simple guy, not one for many words, communicating in mostly happy hums, gentle sighs, and soft nods ( when you actually see him come slinking out of his bedroom or enter quietly from wherever he spends his day, that is. ) but despite being mostly pleasant and tolerable, he still has these oddities that make you quirk a brow at him, utterly perplexed. firstly, he nitpicks the number of paper towels you use at once. on one of the rare occasions you mutually linger in the common space other than tuesday, you have the audacity to wash your hands in front of him — dry them, no less. naturally, like any other, you grab paper towels to dry, and you feel his eyes locked on your side profile, watching diligently from the dining table. his eyes, little seas you can drown in, shamelessly bore into you. he analyzes you carefully — judges you.

you meet his eyes slowly, unusually nervous. you feel as if you’re being heavily and thoroughly scrutinized. his displeasure pierces the air with terrifying persistence.

“uh…is everything okay?” “you use a lot of paper towels at once.” he notes quietly, never tearing his gaze from yours. “it’s pretty wasteful.” he admittedly didn’t state it with malice, only moderate concern at best. when he says it, you look down between your palms where a bundle of paper towels are bunched.

you can admit it’s more than you actually needed, but it’s such an odd thing to want to observe and take note of, such a specific behavior to apply feedback to. you look back up at him, blinking slowly. “sorry?” you offer half-heartedly. “is there a certain amount you’d like me to use at a time?” you try your damndest not to let the severity of your bubbling agitation show, but you hear it slip in the way you offer him a careless apology and defensive inquiry about a solution. to your dismay, xavier only hums, ignoring your attitude and seriously considering your notion. “ideally, paper towels should only be used for spills and messes, so as to not permanently stain our cloth towels. considering there are two hundred and eight sheets in total, at an average cost of five diamonds per roll, making each sheet worth just under two-point-five gold, it’d be objectively more cost-efficient and environmentally friendly if you…placed a cloth towel there specifically to dry your hands and include it in your laundry cycle regularly. that’s what i do. it’s…the most reasonable option.” “uh…huh.” you say it slowly, trying to wrap your mind around why it took a boy who hardly ever speaks so many words to arrive at a simple conclusion: put a hand towel there instead. “i’ll put a towel there. i’m sorry for being wasteful.” he nods, his hard gaze softening and moving back to previous stimuli. “thank you for acknowledging my concern.” in truth, you don’t even get a chance to add a towel. xavier does it himself. the next time you’re in the kitchen, you notice he’s left an additional towel hanging right next to his, identical. the sight of it causes you to shake your head and chuckle to yourself, lips tilting into a grin. 

peculiar boy.

coupled with his obtuse observational interests is xavier’s odd attachment to tiny, mundane instances inside his routine. specifically, everyone coming home on time. every tuesday you only have a single class in the morning, and you also have a day off from your part-time job. so, you usually stroll back into the apartment by mid-afternoon. xavier is never there when you arrive, and you don’t know much about what he does with his time during the day. at most, you know he’s already graduated university. you know he must make decent money considering his capacity for keeping the entire house’s basic needs met. you figure he has to do something during the daytime.

that, or it’s nepotism.

what it is? you’re uncertain, but he always carries a backpack stuffed full, and his laptop is always tucked securely under his arm within a protective sleeve. xavier is a habitual creature through and through, dancing in the spaces of predictability with perceivable glee. he arrives back home by 4:30 consistently. by that time, you’re usually engrossed in a book, spread out on the living room floor studying, or curled up on the couch watching dramas whenever he finally arrives. you never make eye contact or redirect your attention from what it’s already fixated on, but you do always absentmindedly greet him the same way each time: “welcome home.”

he always gives you a small hello and immediately retreats to his room without another word. sometime around six, he emerges from his room and comes to the common space to ask if you want dinner. tuesday evening is the only occasion during the week you’re able to try the things he makes fresh, rather than reheating them. and you both sit in an incredibly comforting, idle silence while you eat. there’s never expectations to entertain one another or engage in meaningless small talk. you compliment his meal, thank him, and tell him you ate well. it’s never a lie. xavier is an exceptional cook. but on one particular tuesday in question, he comes stumbling into the apartment at 2:45 pm, significantly earlier than usual, and he’s in an evident frenzy. he comes in, kicks his shoes off at the door with little regard ( entirely unlike him ), and moans begrudgingly as he shuffles back toward his room, defeat loud and palpable.

“welcom—” the greeting dies on your lips, hearing his long string of audible dread and looking after him as he scurries down the hall. “xavier?” you call after him. you watch his tall figure pause and turn back towards you when he hears you, his cerulean eyes round and wide with apprehension and fear. “yes?” “rough day?” you ask him softly, trying not to overwhelm him even more. “you’re home pretty early and you have this distinct look of terror.” you try to joke lightheartedly, but he sighs in response, looking down at his feet. “it is a rough day and it’s only going to get worse. i don’t know what to do.” “do you need help with something?” “i…i think so? i have friends coming over. i’ve never had anyone over here. i don’t…do that. i’ve never made that much food. i feel like i won’t be able to get done in time and clean myself up.” “you seem really stressed out about this. how many people are coming?” “…two,” he answers sheepishly. “but additional mouths to feed means more time and honestly, i don’t have any time. i left work early so i could try to make this happen, but now it means i’m going to be behind on the schedule i put together for my project and this is…it’s…it’s fussing up my routine. that's making me stressed. i’m sorry. i’m sorry . i know i’m just blubbering and prattling right now.” “xavier,” you say softly, giving him a sympathetic smile. “it’s okay. i get it. i hate when my day gets thrown off, too. i’m not doing anything particularly important if you want help with making dinner. are there things you need from the store or anything? i can take care of that while you wash up and relax for a bit.”

he’s quiet for a moment as if he doesn’t know what to say. he just stares at you with an unreadable expression, nods once — quite curtly — and turns back toward his room. you don’t take it any kind of way, knowing he often responds pretty similarly. you figure he just isn’t used to requesting or receiving help, but it’s fine. you can and will follow through. xavier doesn’t realize what a load he takes off your shoulder by providing you with regular meals. in your mind, the least you can do is eat well, be mindful of your paper towel use, and offer helpful hands when applicable. later when the two of you are prepping dinner and simultaneously trying to make the apartment feel ‘guest ready’, you keep noticing him glance over at you, but he doesn’t speak. actually, he hardly says anything at all the entire time you work together. it’s such a strange contradiction. he presents himself as shy and reserved because he simply dosen’t speak, but when he does speak, he seems to talk a mile a minute or be unnecessarily long-winded at an average speed. there isn’t really an in-between thus far, and you’d lived with him for nearly a year. unable to endure any more of his silent but blatant gazes, you snap your head to him, a little curious and also frustrated. “why are you staring at me? did i do something again?” “no,” his head shakes as he blinks, seeming a bit taken aback by your tone. “i was…thinking that i’m really grateful that you were willing to help me with this. i don’t have enough time to finish all my work. i don’t have enough time to see my friends or have dinner with them. i don’t have enough time to spend with myself. but i’m trying to do it anyway because…it matters, you know? but i was…in a panic earlier. i get really stuck on my routines. inconsistencies just make my brain itch. i was feeling really overwhelmed and your offer to go gather the things i needed just so i could shower and breathe for ten minutes…meant…a lot to me. so…thank you. also…i’m sorry…for staring. i have this really bad habit of not knowing what to say, so i say nothing or… everything.”

to his apparent surprise, you giggle. his eyes widen a bit at the sound. “yeah, i noticed that about you, actually.” you place a comforting hand on his shoulder. “no problem. we’ve been here together for a while now, yeah? it’s only natural that sometimes we need to rely on each other. it’s kind of like how you leave me your extras from dinner for when i get home. i…otherwise would only eat once a day most days. i move around a lot. i forget about it, and by the time i get home, i’m too exhausted to make food. i’m grateful for how you’re willing to help me, too.” you didn’t expect to see his face flush red or for him to look down as if staring at his feet will make the bright, rosy tips of his ears disappear. 

“yeah…no problem. i guess you’re right.” “so…what is it that you do for work? what’s so time-consuming that you essentially have no life outside of it?” you ask. although you’re curious about his line of work, you ask him for his benefit, so he doesn’t feel embarrassed for feeling flustered after your exchange. you’re starting to figure out that although xavier appears and presents as if his lack of social involvement is a personal preference and choice, being a loner is not just a stylistic choice but an inevitable outcome.

he’s clearly socially inept. when you guys eat in thick silence, it’s not because he’s wading in an endless sea of comfortable notions and  doesn’t feel the need to speak. he doesn’t know what to say, so he opts for absolutely nothing. small talk is likely not something he’s familiar with or perhaps even cares about. he has to be coaxed out of his fretful foundation just to express that he needs help. he communicates in grunts, nods, and sighs because it’s easier than navigating a flow of back and forth in conversation. “i’m a video game designer. i…work on actions and movements mostly. the physics of it all. when characters engage in combat or how they interact with certain parts of the environment in open-world games? i’m part of the team that goes behind creating things like that. we give the characters life and motion. it’s…pretty cool considering it’s been my dream job since i was young, but it’s a lot of hard work. we’re working on a really important game right now. it could put our team on the map with. so,  i have to do my best. i can’t let my team down.” you hum, impressed. “that’s actually really cool. i kind of figured you were a nerd in some capacity. you’re a cool nerd with a cool job.” he laughs then, light and quiet but saccharine sweet. “i wouldn’t say i’m a nerd. i have a deep understanding of my personal interests. it doesn’t make me nerdy. just knowledgeable.”

you nod in agreement but hum in protest. “no, it doesn’t make you nerdy, but telling someone they use too many paper towels and proceeding to itemize the cost of a single sheet on a whim is…not, not nerdy.” you explain, clicking your tongue. he pouts. “i thought that information was relevant to helping you understand my stance.” “i would’ve understood even if you didn’t explain, xavier. it’s your apartment and you buy all the paper towels. it’s not wrong for you to, without explanation, tell me to be mindful of my excessive use.” xavier looks you over, his expression contorted by perceivable perplexity, lips pursed and eyes just staring at you while blinking blankly. “but you clearly were bothered by me bringing it up. that’s why i elaborated like that.” nonchalantly, you shrug. “i wasn’t bothered you brought it up. i just thought you were being peculiar. and you still haven’t been able to escape those allegations, by the way. it’s alright, though. even if we end up having to indict you for your oddities, i’ll still accept you.”

it’s quiet between you both then. xavier seems to have nothing else to offer to the little exchange, and that’s fine with you because when you peek at him again as he’s chopping vegetables, you notice his tiny smile. and you note that the subtle little smile doesn’t leave him for the entirety of the evening. you sit quietly on the opposite side of the room,  midding — uninvolved but happily present — observing him engage with his work friends, jeremiah and ulysses. he seems quite comfortable with them. his speech becomes fluid, easy, and even exciting at times. you see a little sparkle in his eyes when they talk about games and how jeremiah is close to finishing is personal passion project. 

xavier must love gaming a lot. you wonder if video game development is really his dream activity or just the dream career, and maybe his real passion is something more novel and less technical. regardless, you can’t help the sheer feeling of pride that swirls around in your chest seeing him like this: attentive, involved, lively. it gives you a subtle little smile of your own. and you note that it doesn’t leave you for the entirety of the evening.

among all other observations, the characteristic of xavier’s that confirms the strength of his quirkiness is how he’s suddenly far too concerned with how you spend your tuesdays. it starts the week after you help him prepare his tiny dinner party for his friends, the most peculiar aspects of his behavior. it’s all because on one particular tuesday in question, you never come home after class. 

your friend and co-worker, tara, has a date with a girl she’s been flirting with for a while, and you agree to switch shifts. today in exchange for a day you don’t have class and you can stay home, a fair and even trade. you’re tired, hanging on by a thread, but you really need the extra time for the week. ( you work as a waitress at a small restaurant near the university. most students dine between classes or on their lunches. it’s a small but heavily populated establishment. when you volunteer to work on busy days, your boss advances you what you make for that day at the end of the night. it has its perks and its pits. ) while cleaning off the table of a guest who just left, you receive repeated text messages, making your brows furrow as your phone shoots signal after signal in quick succession. who could possibly be texting you this urgently? no one ever does. you glance at the time. 4:32 pm. xavier usually wanders through the door right around now. your expression lifts in light shock as you see he happens to be the source of the incessant sounding.

4:32 pm  ⋮   xavier.

are you safe? you’re not at home. it’s tuesday. you’re usually home when i get here. my routine is thrown off.

you roll your eyes reading his messages. he’s being hyperbolic and overdramatic again, but for what? is it really so important that you’re there just to say two words he hardly acknowledges only to hole up in his room until he’s ready to make dinner? 

maybe this is his attempt at humor.

you chuckle at the thought of it. xavier is so socially awkward that his jokes don’t even land; they just float in the air, suspended by complexity until someone gets it.

4:34 pm  ⋮  you.

you’re being incredibly dramatic. i’m at work. very alive and well. making money to keep feeding us.

4:35 pm  ⋮  xavier.

objectively incorrect. i buy all of our food?

4:40 pm  ⋮   xavier. 

look. no one was here to welcome me home and now i’m back but don’t feel an ounce of welcome about it.

you laugh at his response, very heartily, right in the middle of a restaurant, inwardly beaming with pride because he made a joke. and it was actually kind of funny. only kind of. you start to wonder why it matters so much to you if he grows into himself and becomes comfortable enough to speak freely and easily. why do you feel so invested in his character development? regardless, you hope to see him come out of his shell more. it’s becoming of him.

4:42 pm  ⋮  xavier. 

will you make it in time for dinner or another long night?

4:44 pm  ⋮   you.

probably not. it’s pretty busy and we’re already short-staffed. another long night. aiming to be back by ten tonight. i have homework due at midnight.

4:45 pm  ⋮ xavier.

okay…understood. godspeed.

work goes by as it does. it’s always the same formula and equation, just different bodies and times of day. you finally come strolling home at 10:05 pm. you’re dead tired and knowing you still have to finish your homework and submit it is making the exhaustion feel heavier than it probably is. when you head inside, you expect it to be dark, only the light above the stove left on as per usual, but instead, all of the lights are on. the tv is chattering with excitement, playing some kind of variety show, and there’s a spicy, thick aroma in the air that makes you pause briefly to breathe it in. it’s so pleasant. and warm. you walk in, greeted by a scent that feels like a long embrace.

as you stroll through the door, you look to your immediate left where the open layout kitchen is placed. xavier stands next to the stove, chopping vegetables carefully on the counter. “welcome home.” he announces it casually, just as you always do for him, but doesn’t tear his attention away from his task. you don’t know what exactly this is, the shift in his behavioral pattern. you aren’t sure what to name the feelings that attach to it, either, but you appreciate it because today you have an anomaly of your own. you understand it right then: what he means when he says he came back but he didn’t feel welcomed home. you’re always only ‘coming back’ but walking in and being welcomed by him, it feels more like ‘coming home’. you note that there might just be a difference.   your voice is tepid and content when you finally speak. “hey, you’re up pretty late.” he only hums in response. you wander over to him, keeping a good grip on all your belongings. “cooking dinner at this hour? pretty unlike you. huh, your routine really did get messed up.” his lips quirk. “yeah, i worked more when i came home instead of eating. i’m still catching up from last week. but i noticed i was starving and then i realized it was almost ten. so i figured i might as well just commit to a curve in my routine. but…what about yours?” his inquiry surprises you a little because he’s initiating small talk with you. at first, your lips just part. “my…routine? uh…yeah? it got thrown off majorly today. i have an assignment due by midnight. i thought i would turn it in by this afternoon, but i got paid in advance for this shift, so that was nice.” xavier abruptly stops cutting his carrots and places the knife down calmly. and then, he just looks at you. it was a very normal look that you could give anyone: stranger, acquaintance, or friend. it was just a simple look, but for some reason, when his eyes meet yours, your heart starts to pick up its rhythm, and you swear you can hear the thump of it crescendo in your ears. he’s so…handsome. it’s not that you’ve never looked at him before. it’s not that you aren’t already aware that he’s a good-looking man. anyone with eyes and reason can see that. it’s just that right now you’re looking at him and he seems like his features have changed, like someone raised the saturation and clarity on his existence. his jawline seems sharper. his soft, blue eyes seem more potent, gleaming cooly. his lips are supple, pink, pouty, and curved quite romantically. he looks like a walking beckoning for affection. his pearly hair is tousled, all in disarray, like he’s been running his fingers through tirelessly. his clothes seem to cling to the thickness of his frame, outlining the definition of his thin but muscular build. he quite obviously works out. you didn’t notice that before, the way fabric bulges around his arms and shoulders. his feathery lashes flutter around lapis when he blinks, all that angelic beauty swirling around so casually. you haven’t looked at him this thoroughly before.

god, he’s pretty. 

“you should make sure you respect your resting day routines. you seem to work really hard with…everything you’re doing.” xavier’s voice is soft and caring, cradling his own declaration tenderly. smiling, you nod, swallowing down how flustered suddenly you feel inside, hoping the quickening of your breath doesn’t give it away. “i hear you. it was a one-time thing anyway. now…need help?” “don’t you have homework?” his voice is perplexed. “go work on it. i’ll call you when i’m done.” to this, you reject his suggestion with a shake of your head. “no can do. i think i’m too tired and will take my loss with grace for the sake of a decent meal before midnight. i’ll ask again…need help?” you don’t say what you really mean right then: i think i’d rather spend time in silence with you. it looks like he’s only barely started, likely working on a base for some sort of soup. he has so many scraps laid out everywhere. xavier clears his throat. “uh…yeah…yeah, i do.”

“on it,” you say resolutely. “let me put my stuff up and change. it’ll only take me five and i’ll be back to help.”

after that, you don’t see xavier for the rest of the week. tuesday is really the only day your schedules coordinate enough to see each other even in passing. you don’t miss how disappointment settles in your chest every single time you wander inside at ten or eleven and you don’t see him standing there in the kitchen, back turned to you, nonchalantly welcoming you home. you don’t miss the way you stop yourself from texting him and telling him exactly what he told you: look. no one is here to welcome me back home and now i’m back but don’t feel an ounce of welcome about it. but on the following monday, you receive a surprising notification.

1:08 pm  ⋮  xavier.

i would like to formally request permanent assistance with dinner on tuesday evenings. unless work or other contractual obligations prevent participation. it is much more efficient with two sets of hands. and since we both eat, it’s the most ethical and fair.

his formality makes you giggle, as it’s so aligned with who you now understand him to be. once again, smiling fondly to yourself, you think of what a peculiar boy he is. his request at its core is perfectly fair. he does buy all the food and cook it but you both enjoy the fruits of his labor. so if it’s a regular thing, you realistically should help him without a single qualm. that’s the line of reasoning you offer for the sheer speed of your response, agreeing to give away all your foreseeable tuesdays to him: in all fairness.

1:09 pm ⋮ you.

sure thing xavi.

you don’t miss the way it’s the first time you’ve ever called him by or given him any kind of nickname. you don’t miss the way you feel nervous to send it, as if being denied casual exchanges with him will have a significant impact on your emotions. now you’re the one acting peculiarly. for three weeks, on three consecutive tuesdays, you and xavier rally together in the kitchen, pick a recipe to follow, assign your roles, complete your duties, and successfully make meals together around six o’clock. for three consecutive tuesdays, you sit together at the table and eat well, sometimes in silence, but sometimes in comfortable, slow-paced conversation. the most surprising evolution is the budding presence of his attempts at small talk. “i don’t know how i feel about this recipe.” xavier admits after devouring the meat he’s made. “i don’t care for this marinade at all.” you, mouth full and consumption bordering barbaric, look confused. when you swallow, you have to inquire about why he feels this way. it’s quite delicious. and you can’t fathom him not liking it considering he ate all of it. “what? you didn’t like it? how? i think it’s incredible. probably your best yet. the meat is so, so tender and it’s very flavorful but not overwhelming. it pairs really well with this little sauce we made!” “you enjoyed it?” xavier asks. you notice then that he’s biting his lip rather nervously. “or are you only saying that because we spent a considerable amount of time on this one?” you grin, rolling your eyes. “why would i lie? you’re a good cook, xavi. seriously…i’ve never not enjoyed the food you’ve cooked. you did really well on the meat. and judging by your happy plate, i think you know that.” you figure out quickly that it isn’t that he doesn’t like it, but that he wants someone else to say he did a good job but doesn’t want to ask directly until an opinion is already offered.

he even seeks praise awkwardly. how endearing.

he doesn’t speak, only lowers his head with that subtle smile you’ve come to find yourself craving the sight of. admittedly, you enjoy this blooming tradition that the two of you are building. you feel excited for him to come home, eager for him to finish resting up and come out at six, ready to get started, ready to talk to you or just stand by your side. moreover, you really enjoy not eating dinner alone. you enjoy his proximity even in your settled silence. it always feels more like home when he’s here and you are, too, both parallel or perpendicular to the other. “this is nice.” you tell him warmly. “i kinda like our new tradition.” “oh,” he breathes softly. “i…” his head rises quickly and he looks at you, those icy eyes you’ve grown particularly fond of now slightly widened. you don’t know if you’re just seeing what your own unspoken feelings want to see, but it looks like longing looking back at you. his hand rests on the table and you glance down, only for a fraction of a moment, considering reaching your own out to find the answer to a theory you’ve constructed in the last few weeks: you think his hands might be incredibly soft. “well, um. i…that’s…good to know. i think that maybe…um, i…” ( your mind begs you to let it be known that he’s stammering and you’re staring, but your thoughts are ever so slightly somewhere else. ) you notice when he washes his hands, he pats them dry lightly with his towel. delicate. and he always opens the drawer below immediately after to pull out a tiny bottle of hand cream. every single time. habitual. he applies a dollop and rubs it all in gingerly. he makes sure to get all the nooks and crannies of his hands, the dips and the divots. thorough. patient. soft. satin. he seems to care a great deal about his hands, takes good care of them and the things they touch. you lick your lips and look away. “i’m sorry…i…uh…don’t know what to say i think and…” you cut him off. “is it a mutual understanding?” “what?” “do you…like our little tradition as well?” a slow, timid, soundless nod. you respond with tilted lips. “then…you can just say…i like it, too.” he doesn’t take his eyes off of you, but the look he gives you is becoming clearer, and you can’t look directly for too long or you’ll melt right before him.

xavier turns out to be a lot like the sun, and if you aren’t careful, your heart might try to become like spring and bloom for him. “i…like it, too.” he says finally. humming, you turn your attention back towards your food, looking away, and for the first time, being the one with nothing left to say. all the things you want to say officially teeter off the cusp of amiability and drop straight into a giant vat of arousal. after a moment, your body becomes so hot you can’t stand just sitting there anymore, so dinner ends abruptly with xavier telling you to leave your dishes and he’ll take care of them. you only nod and offer him a quiet thank you and a friendly goodnight. then you wander off to your room in a daze wondering if he noticed you squirming in your seat. he’s so domestic, you’re about to cum off the strength of existing in the same house as him. ( and that’s not good because you’re always in the same house as him. ) the things you watch him do in the kitchen, it’s all just so homely. there’s a kind of strength in a man who appreciates homemaking that makes you weak. telling you to make sure to preheat the oven, putting on his mitts to check on the food, setting timers, and tying an apron around his waist. cutting vegetables. using measuring cups. 

‘slice, not dice. here, let me show you. watch.’ 

the way his triceps and biceps flex at the motion of his very intentional cuts, the way he’s always rolling up his sleeves, even when they’re short-sleeved shirts like a goddamn tease, basically begging to be turned into a husband and a father overnight. 

it’s sickening. you officially want him so bad you want to throw up.

the orgasm you have in your room — stifling the sound of your moans and the sound of you quietly calling out his name when you did — spells it out quite clearly for you even if you don’t want to acknowledge it outright.

you like him. a lot. it’s absolutely sickening.

on thursday, another anomaly occurs in your schedule. a few actually, and all of them are pleasant. the first anomaly is relaxation. you don’t have class and since tara keeps up her end of the deal, you have an entire day at home to enjoy your alone time. but, as usual, you wake to the pleasant aroma of coffee. you smile even harder knowing there’s nowhere for you to be so you can move as quickly or as slowly as you like.

it means that maybe you can go have coffee with xavier before he leaves for the day. you don’t even like coffee, but you like him. and that’s more than enough reason to get you out of bed, tidy yourself a bit, and go sauntering out of your room to ask for a cup of hot liquid you’ll never consume. ( you’re more of a tea or hot chocolate kind of person, but there’s a first time for everything, and maybe having coffee will taste better if drinking it means spending even a fractal of time with him. ) this initiates the occurrence of the next anomaly. “good morning,” you say pleasantly. a yelp. a jolt. a wince. a hiss. a “fuck, fuck, fuck”. a resounding crash. the sound of shattered ceramic. xavier clearly isn’t expecting you to be up or to greet him. you wince at the sound of glass and lean over to see that he’s dropped and broken the mug he was holding: your mug. your favorite one. the one your grandmother made for you with her own two hands. there’s coffee pooling everywhere, all over the floor, and xavier moans dreadfully. “shit!” he exclaims. “you scared me. i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean…i didn’t mean to break it. i’m sorry. i really am.” the mug means the world to you, as your grandmother’s much older now and unable to craft little items for you like this anymore. it’s the only one of its kind. the only one that would ever be. and now it’s in pieces on the kitchen floor, a little sea of java surrounding the sad, jagged portions of loving sentiment. “i’m sorry i scared you.” you say softly, trying hard not to cry. you don’t want to make him feel bad. you don’t want him to feel bad at all. “it’s okay, xavi. it’s okay. i’ll get towels.” once you grab towels and come back to help him clean it up, he’s deep in a spell of unnerved groaning — a long, drawn-out whine that goes on under his breath for a while. “please don’t be upset.” he pleads, frowning. “i’m so, so sorry.” you smile softly, shaking your head. “i’m not upset, xavi. are you hurt at all? from the coffee? i heard you hiss.” “i’m okay. it splashed on me, but it didn’t burn me or anything.” you place the two large towels down to soak up all the liquid on the ground. xavier focuses on picking up each piece of the broken mug. as you watch him through the top of your eyes, you wonder just why he’s using your mug to begin with. “i’m not used to you being awake so early.” he admits, slightly embarrassed of how a simple good morning resulted in this. “but…good morning to you, too.” you just can’t help it. you giggle. peculiar boy. “if you want…you…you can pick one of my mugs to take in its place.” he offers, biting his lip. you nod and say okay for a few reasons: 1. you absolutely want something of his and it’s a microscopic guilty desire you have. 2. he seems like it’ll bother him a lot if he can’t rectify the situation in some way. you saying it’s okay doesn’t appear to suffice. 3. see reasons 1 and 2. 

as he’s showing you his plethora of available mugs, you catch yourself smiling. he has all of these mugs of his own, but���he was drinking his morning coffee out of yours. you survey them all and find only one that stands out. it’s a white, ceramic mug with the word ‘create’ etched messily into it. it’s oddly shaped, looking nearly homemade. irregular. odd. it’s the most xavier mug of them all. that’s the one you want. you point to it. “i’ll take that one.” you chirp.

for a brief moment, he hesitates, pouting cutely, but his lips slowly tilt upward.  “of course you will. that one’s my favorite. i made it in my high school art class, but…okay. okay. a mug for a mug. you can keep it. drink your coffee out of it well…and frequently…or it might start to feel neglected. it’s an extroverted kind of mug.” if you knew it wouldn’t result in one of the most blatant forms of rejection you’ll ever face, because xavier is nothing if not brutally honest, maybe you would have kissed him right then. it would be hard not to if you knew with unearned confidence that he wouldn’t push you away. but, instead, you quietly take the mug and you’ll use it well just as he asks. and maybe he’ll try to sneak in a hidden smile by just lifting the corner of his lips. and maybe you’ll spot his dimple because of it, the one that likes to hide the same way your feelings do. and maybe the sight of it will make your heart flutter and your breath hitch. and maybe it ( in its own way ) could be just as good as a kiss. a homemade mug for a homemade mug.

you have a feeling you’ll keep it closer than anything else. “want to have coffee before you leave for work?” you ask, even knowing well that you’ll be wasting even more than he has, even knowing how upset he’ll be if he figures you out. but it feels worth it when he nods, offering you that coy smile you silently plead for nowadays. and you both do, in the soft lull of the morning, sit at the table over a cup of coffee. you even steal glances every now and then. when he asks why you haven’t touched your drink, you lie and say you prefer it with creamer, to which he turns his nose up in disgust. “creamer is a forbidden substance in this house.” he informs you. “but…if…if it really is a deal-breaker for your coffee enjoyment…i’ll make sure to get you some. what kind do you like?”

the next time you go grocery shopping for us, honey? why don’t you just ask me to pop the question right now?

you don’t care for coffee. you don’t care for creamer, but you care very, very dearly about the prospect of xavier getting any kind of special thing for you, with you in mind, with the purpose of making an experience better for you. it makes you feel special to him. ( you know plenty of special things he can give you to make the experience better. and it didn’t even cost money. he can use his perfect hands as much as he likes. ) “hazelnut,” you lie with a smile. “that’s my favorite.”

the third anomaly occurs much later in the day when you’re home alone and you’re lounging in the living room, wondering if thursday will get to be a second tuesday with xavier since you’ll both be here. unexpectedly, there’s a knock at the door. your brows furrow. you didn’t order any food. you didn’t expect a delivery. xavier always tells you if anyone’s dropping by. when you walk up to the door and peep out, you see a remarkably handsome man standing on the other side. you open the door carefully, revealing a boy, likely around your age, with soft lilac hair that seems to take on a pearlescent tint in the light. a blend of amethyst and carnelian in his eyes and standing there with a kind smile that seems like it might dissolve anything in sight that just so happens to perceive it. 

he even has little dimples on his cheeks as he beams so pleasantly. he, much like xavier, is very pretty. “hi…can i…help you?” you ask timidly, not fully coming outside the crack in the door, only your head and a portion of your torso poking out. ( he might be attractive, but he’s still a stranger. ) he scratches the back of his head. “oh…uh, hi!…my name is rafayel? i just moved into that unit about a week ago.” he explains, jerking a thumb back towards his front door, #1103r, right across from you and xavier’s #1104r. 

“oh! i didn’t even know the unit was empty.” you laugh. “welcome to the complex…and the hall. it’s fairly quiet, so i hope you aren’t a partier.” laughing, he shakes his head. “a baker and a painter, not a partier. i spend my spare time making sweet treats. you might smell me baking a lot, though. i…uh…i actually was coming to ask if you had butter? or margarine? i’ve started making cupcakes, but i didn’t get butter at the store, and i didn’t want to leave out…because i already started. so, i figured i could come to introduce myself…and ask a neighborly favor?” 

he puts his hands together in a small plea.

wow, the boys in this building really do enjoy wholesome activities.

smiling, you nod. “sure, give me a second. i’ll be right back.” when you come back to the door with an entire package of butter, he smiles wide, making his eyes crinkle. “i hope that’ll be enough.” “more than, i’ll bring back what i don’t use.” he promises. “ah, you’re a lifesaver. thanks!”

“happy to help. welcome to the building, rafayel.” now, the exchange should be complete but he’s still just standing there. “well…if that’s all…” “what was your name? did you already tell me?” he asks suddenly, confused. “sorry, i wanted to say your name, too, because it seems respectful since you said my name, but i was trying to rack my brain for what you said your name was…” “i didn’t.” you clarify, chuckling at his spaciness despite knowing you’ll lie. “it’s…hunter.” “hunter. hm, i like it. it suits you somehow. anyway, thanks, miss hunter the neighbor. rafayel the baker will see you again soon to return his butter hostage and maybe offer a treat forged from his deepest gratitudes.” a lopsided grin and a wink. when he leaves, you close the door and stand there for a moment, recalling the entire exchange. he’s handsome, a bit spacey, but so friendly…so friendly he’s flirty. you’ll never complain about having eye candy for a neighbor, but…you don’t want xavier to get the wrong idea…if rafayel starts talking to you more… you quickly shake the thought away, reminding yourself to return to reality from the depths of your delusions. xavier is not interested in you in that way by any means. he, at most, wants to become friends, which is understandable for a person he’ll be living with for an additional year. that’s fair. you want to be friends, too. ( you just also want him to talk you through his day while he’s fingering you, that’s all. )

the next anomaly occurs at five pm when xavier arrives home much later than he usually does. for him, thirty minutes late is a lot. it throws off his routine. “welcome home.” you say casually as he finally comes waltzing in. you try your best to appear as if you’re as unfazed about his entry. you try not to make it disgustingly obvious that you aren’t just there relaxing anymore; you’re waiting. for him to come home. to welcome him back. this time, though, he doesn’t respond curtly as he ducks back towards his room. you hear the rustling of plastic bags he sets down on the kitchen counter.

he then wanders over to you and lays a heavy palm flat on the crown of your head. “hey,” he breathes. in movies or dramas, this is the moment where your world freezes, just becoming so petrified that even time doesn’t dare to move. you gulp hard, your heart racing even more so than it usually does over him.

what are you supposed to do? “did you…enjoy your day off?” he asks. “did you rest enough?”

“um…” your voice trails, mind still entranced by his hand resting on top of your hand. it’s such a gentle gesture, so tender and timid, like him. such a well-suited affection for his temperament. “i had…a relaxing day. it was nice.” you manage to speak, but you stare ahead, not bold enough to look up at the face he’s making while he touches you. he finally lowers his hand to his side and inside, you scream about it, protest profusely to the removal of his closeness. “what about you? was work okay?” you ask, breathing returning to normal as he heads back to the kitchen to unpack his things.

the first item he takes out is a little bottle of hazelnut creamer, and your heart is so warm you think it’s become nothing but a puddle of adoring liquid. “work was less stressful. we’re close to done with this project. so now there’s not as much silence in the office. everyone is slowly starting to act like real people again. it was driving me insane. when intense projects happen, it disrupts my routine so much. people stop saying good morning. i don’t feel comfortable saying anything more than i already don’t. and i think the secretary hates me because i kept messing up my report and printing it incorrectly. it created unnecessary work for her and it wasted a lot of paper. i made sure to pick some up while i was at the store to replace it, but…” he stops suddenly and frowns. “sorry, i just realized i was rambling again.” you can’t hide your loving smile even if you bother trying. “you’re talking about your day. there’s nothing wrong with that, especially if the person you’re talking to wants to know all the seemingly useless details.” xavier has this habit of just peering at you at times when you respond to his long-windedness with openness to experience. and boy were you dangerously open to experiencing him. “and…do you…?” he asks you slowly, his head tilting to the side. “…want to hear even the unimportant details?” you shrug casually and nod once. you decide on an endearing response with a touch of humor to soften the landing for your heart as it’s doing its somersaults. “i don’t mind hearing about your day in great detail…it’s like listening to an audiobook for free. or a podcast.” “you…” he rolls his eyes, lips quirking. a soft shake of the head. “anyway, what’d you do today? stay on the couch engrossed in your dramas?” “i cleaned up a bit, did some homework, met our new neighbor, and binged on a drama, yes.” his brows bundle together. “we didn’t already have a neighbor?” “that’s what i said! i didn’t know the unit across the hall was empty, but he came by to ask if he could have some butter and introduce himself.” xavier’s face scrunches up, slightly disgusted and confused. “butter? like…to just eat?” “xavi, what?” you ask, bubbling a laugh. “no, dummy. he’s a baker. he started making cupcakes and realized he didn’t have any. he said he’d bring back the excess.” again, a repulsed display of emotion. “i don’t want any food back after it’s left this apartment. there are all kinds of new germs and particles on it now. why would i consume that or allow you to? what kind of person do you take me for? god only knows what he does in that unit. and if he double dips? if he sticks his fingers in his mouth and touches the container without washing his hands? ew. there’s no way for us to even verify. the number of available and unfavorable possibilities is disgusting in itself. and bakers seem like the…‘lick their fingers clean’ type, so…he can keep the butter. i’ll get us more.” you purse your lips together, clasping them shut to keep your amused smile from showing how endearing you find him to be and also to keep from laughing at the severity of his seriousness, at how comical all his particularities are but adorable in the same breath. peculiar as ever. “okay, if he tries to return it, i’ll reject him.”

“that would be best.” a familiar, curt nod. “i’m making dinner in a little while…do you…want to help me? or will it throw your relaxation routine off?” you snort. “xavi, i don’t have a relaxation routine. the relaxation is disrupting the routine in a good way. but yes…what are we making?” and there it is again, that little smile that makes you want to clutch at your chest. having a second tuesday is another wonderful disruption to the routine.

the following tuesday, you’re giddy as you head home from class. you aren’t sure what moment does it for you, but you’ve settled comfortably into the fact that you like xavier, that given the opportunity, you’ll peel back every single layer of his existence to taste and lick and know every part of him. it doesn’t bother you to be just friends and roommates with him, though. you guys live together. even if something comes of it, if it goes south, it’ll really destroy the living dynamic you guys have cultivated, which is quite comfortable. gentle. tender. safe. besides, he reserves special kinds of platonic affections for you that suffice. as you approach the building, you see your neighbor, rafayel, struggling to balance a tall stack of white, flat boxes while he tries to open the door to the building. you jog up and hold it open for him. “ah, thank you, miss hunter the neighbor.” he says graciously. “saving me yet again.” rafayel is nice enough but he seems to be quirky in his own way. you’re starting to wonder if it’s a prerequisite for being accepted for housing in this place. as it stands, though, tensions are high between your household and his. when he returned the butter, rafayel was immensely offended by xavier’s suggestion that he ‘tainted the butter with his baker’s breath’ and the stern demand that he take it back, to which xavier’s lip curled in disgust as he emphasized that he especially didn’t want it then. it ended with rafayel leaving the butter by the door and sitting it on the ground, both oddballs unwilling to claim the absurdity. you ended up picking it up and throwing it away. while it was a comical event all around, seeing the two of them standing in the doorway trading glares over the sanitation of butter was amongst the strangest things you’ve witnessed. “do you need help, rafayel?” you ask with a laugh. “you look like you’re one, fragile step away from it all crumbling down.” he sighs. “if you don’t mind and it won’t taint your precious hands to touch my baker’s boxes, then yes, you may help me.” “for the record, i have absolutely no stock or stance in the butter sanitation conundrum. i am but an innocent bystander. so, no, your baker’s boxes aren’t at risk of tainting my hands.” 

you roll your eyes at him. “you’re really dramatic, you know.” “criticizing me is not helpful.” he notes. “and i’m not certain, but i thought you asked to help.” “fine,” you grumble, grabbing a stack of the boxes out of his hands. “what’s all this for anyway?” he smiles triumphantly. “i got my first big gig as a freelance baker. i’m making fifty fishie cupcakes for a five-year-old’s birthday party tomorrow.” a playful smile. “wow, that’s really cool. congrats on that one. are you excited?” “excited…is certainly a word. maybe not one i’d use to describe this, but a word nonetheless. if you can’t tell by the thick layer of perspiration and sweat gathering on my forehead, everything is great and not stressful at all.” you pout, oddly concerned for his results. “are you going to be able to pull it off?” “well, the thing is that…no?”  he laughs and so do you. “my friend thomas was supposed to be my helper so i could pull it off, but apparently chasing skirts is more important than making and icing cupcakes for a child’s birthday party. i wouldn’t know since i respect the brotherly code of conduct and would never, but it’s fine. i hope he gets laid.” you nod. “me too…but i hope he has a hard time performing. he shouldn’t have bailed on you. this seems…important to you.”

“ah, miss hunter the neighbor is quite observant, rafayel notes.” he narrates himself in the third person. “it is pretty important to me. but…just to me.” that upset you deeply. you know what it’s like to have your dream not be taken seriously. all this time, you’ve been in school to join the hunter’s association of all things. no one really sees the benefit or believes in what you want to do. you have a heart condition, after all. you’re basically out here trying to prove your entire family wrong, that you’re capable of developing a strong, steady life without needing endless aid. 

you hate the idea that rafayel is clearly very passionate about baking, about doing this kind of custom work, but his friends aren’t supporting him, and now he’s scrambling. “do you have to be a talented baker to be a baker’s assistant?” you ask, biting your lip. the flame in rafayel’s eyes twinkle. “not at all! you just need two hands and a decent enough ability to follow a series of simple directions.” nodding resolutely, you smile. “then consider me self-appointed as the baker’s elf. let’s go get these cupcakes made, rafayel the baker neighbor.” to this, he beams. “miss hunter the neighbor is starting to seem a bit like a friendly neighborhood fishie herself.”

making cupcakes from scratch is no fucking joke. there’s so many steps. it really is a series of simple directions, but if those simple directions are off even by a small margin, it ruins the batch and you have to start again. you didn’t realize how time-consuming it would be. in fact, you didn’t really keep up with the time at all, but when you catch a glimpse of it on his television, it’s already eight ‘o clock, and your eyes widen. “shit! i need to go to my apartment.” you tell him urgently. “are you okay from here or should i come back?” rafayel shakes his head, grinning. “you’ve done so much. i just need to finish working on these last fifteen. i got it. thank you so much. you didn’t have to help but you did. it means a lot.” “no problem, but next time, i expect to take home one of my own.” he laughs. “next time?” “rafayel the baker neighbor seems to need help a lot.” you say with a shrug before ducking out quickly. “see you later!” even though you’re only across the hall, you feel like you’re going to walk in and be in an insane amount of trouble. you haven’t even bothered looking at your phone. 

when you walk in, xavier is sitting on the couch, but his head snaps up to you immediately. “you’re okay!” he says, relief evident in his voice as he rises to his feet. “where have you been? i hadn’t heard from you in hours and i got really worried about you.” he walks over to you but keeps a small distance between your bodies, looking you over for any sign of harm. your entire face heats up. you feel yourself shrinking before him as you take a breath. “sorry,” you say, looking down at your feet. “i was across the hall. i was helping rafayel wi—“ he cuts you off, brows knitting together, lips in a frustrated pout. “the unsanitary baker? why?” “if you would let me finish…” you snap, giving him a hard look. “his friend bailed on helping him and he got his first big order as a freelance baker. i was home so i helped. i was really busy so i wasn’t keeping track of time well. you wouldn’t believe how hard it is it make cupcakes from scratch.” an exasperated sigh leaves your lips just recounting the last few hours mentally. he’s not looking at you anymore when he speaks next. “you baked cupcakes with him?” he asked. “like…you baked them…together?” you feel confused but nod. “…yes? that’s what ‘helping’ would entail in this situation. he was stressed and i felt bad because i know what it’s like for no one to truly believe in you.”

“fine,” he spits, lips set in a hard line. “i hope it got done. dinner’s on the stove.” he walks past you toward the hallway then, his back turned. “and please wash your hands before you touch anything.” then…he just walks straight to his room without another word, leaving you feeling perplexed by his response. his bedroom door closes a little harder than usual and you fear you may have made a grave mistake by hanging out with rafayel, especially when it’s abundantly clear upon their first interaction they’re unlikely to get along.

maybe he feels like bailing on cooking to hang out with rafayel and not even letting him know is a jerk move and you agree.

since that event, the rest of the week is very awkward. even though you don’t see each other often on weekdays already, you have this inkling that xavier’s avoiding you at all costs. he even stops making his coffee. he just slips out into the early morning. you wake up close to ten am, very late, for every day it occurs. an obnoxious disruption in your routine, and he doesn’t make dinner at all. you go to bed pouting and hungry. but another anomaly occurs when tuesday rolls around again: you wake to find that your class has been canceled. ever the diligent student, you check your emails daily. when you finally get around to grabbing your phone in the morning, it’s the first thing you do. to your surprise, the one class you have is canceled due to the professor being ill. you take great pleasure in this because the regular routine in the home is now also back in motion.

you wake to the heavenly scent of colombian swimming in the air. you wander out into the living room. xavier leans back against the marble counter, sipping quietly from a dark-colored mug. “good morning,” you announce quietly, making sure not to frighten him. his eyes dart to your presence, and you just pause where you are, unsure if proceeding any closer is safe. “morning,” a short and dull response. “you’re up early.” you shake your head, playing with your hands nervously. “i’m always up this early. the smell of your coffee wakes me up every morning. i just usually stay in my room and get ready.” “oh,” his voice is small. after a long pause, he asks, “is it bothersome?” to answer, you smile lazily and offer another small head shake. “not at all. it’s actually my favorite alarm. very quiet and very pleasant. i’ve been waking up late the last week nearly. my routine…was thrown off.”

with all the gall in the world, he scoffs. “since when do you care about keeping a routine?” “what?” you ask softly, voice slightly wounded and face fluttering into confusion. “what do you mean?” “you skipped out on our routine last week and that didn’t seem to matter to you at all.” he states simply. your guilty eyes look at your nervously shuffling feet. “so, what is it? why did you hang out with him and bake with him?” you’re not sure if it’s the irritated tone he’s now choosing to take with you or the underlying insinuation that you, a grown adult, owe him a reasonable explanation for why you exert autonomy and choose to help others. as if you did something morally reprehensible by helping rafayel. you’re not even certain xavier is actually, fully angry that you bailed so much as he’s angry about who you were with and what you were doing instead, which is still unfathomable why it’s his business. yes, you should have let him know and you can own that because you know he probably waited a while for you to show up and you never did, but you’re not going to stand here and let him reprimand you for hanging out at your neighbor’s unit just because he’s decided he doesn’t like him for quite literally no real reason at all. “um, are you my father?” you ask, your face scrunching up in frustration. “he’s our new neighbor, xavier. he needed help. i’m just being kind, and i like hanging out with him. he’s funny an—” he cuts you off, setting down his mug. “you like hanging out with him?” “yes…?” it’s silent between the two of you then, his eyes going blank and glossy. “why? what’s so special about his place? why would you prefer spending tuesday there?” you’re genuinely appalled by his response. you expect he may not like the idea of you hanging out with someone he dislikes, but he’s not your parent or your partner, and he’s only become a friend recently. the way you feel like you’re being forced to justify your very simple, very innocent actions of helping rafayel is absolutely unacceptable because no matter how many times you say it, telling xavier you did it because he needed help and it was important for him to have it isn’t a sufficient explanation for him. but it’s the truth and it not being enough for him is not necessarily your burden to bear.

“xavier, i don’t owe you an explanation as to why i had a good time hanging out with him and helping him make cupcakes so his first, real order can lead to more. i don’t have to explain anything i choose to do with anyone. i don’t owe you or your ego elaboration.” “well…” his voice trails and he’s quiet for a minute as his skin slowly reddens and he nervously bites his lower lip. when he looks at you again and speaks, his voice is incredibly soft, unbearably wounded, and pained. “i want an explanation anyway. because i thought you liked spending your tuesday nights with me, but you went over there instead of staying to see me and make dinner together. and you didn’t even tell me. just left me waiting on you. what’s that about?” the sheer shock and confusion of his confession must be evident on your face. you feel your mouth part as if you want to speak but you don’t. your brows knit together, trying to make sense of his stance so you can properly answer his question. 

your heart is racing wildly because it seems xavier may have developed feelings of his own…toward you. “wait…wait…” your voice trails, you’re still looking up, eyes blinking rapidly and narrowing, not in a sinister way but dubious. 

as it stands, your current theory that he might have feelings for you, is unfounded and is permeated by perplexity. 

“is…is that why you’re upset?” you ask him. “because i ended up helping him and missing one tuesday with you?” he sighs and nods, frustration exuded in his body language as if you stated the utter obvious simply to upset him. “you told me you liked our little tradition to cook together, but then picked another guy to make food with the very next week? an unsanitary one at that? and…and…you know what? i want to do that with you. making dinner isn’t fun on my own. not on tuesdays. not if you’re not here with me, and especially not if you’re not here because you’re over there and want to be there more than you want to be here. with me.” your question comes out suddenly, your tone layered in urgency. “xavier…do you like me?” he just stares, mouth slightly agape, looking as if you’ve asked a stupid question yet again. a soundless, ‘you’re not serious, right?’

his next comment confirms your intuition and also attests to your ability to read his expressions clearly now. “are you really asking me that? are you oblivious? after all this time? as if it wasn’t completely obvious that i do.” you snort. “xavier, if you liked me all this time, it was absolutely, undeniably, irrevocably not obvious.” “i gave you a hand towel that matches mine and placed them next to each other.” he details with a flat voice and a roll of his eyes. you look at him, growing progressively more flabbergasted by his position in the ongoing argument. he lives in a delusional mental world where he thinks his feelings, in all their silent conquest, are thoroughly known and understood. even though you’ve never spoken to him about anything of the sort.

“xavier…you do realize you criticized me for the number of paper towels i used, right? i thought you were  just…solving the problem you created.” he has the audacity to groan. “i’ve made dinner for you to eat when you come home since the first time you left me a sticky note apologizing for eating my extras.” “yes, because you always make excess. that’s what you said!” you huff, arms folding over your chest. he can’t seriously believe he has a little avalanche of decent examples of his ‘liking you’ being obvious. there’s just no way. he would have to be completely disregarding every other aspect of objective reality except his own thoughts and perception in order to come to the conclusion that placing a hand towel on a bar or letting you have the extra food he makes regardless are his attempts to court you. “i got upset when you filled in for a coworker on a tuesday instead of coming home and i was only distressed because you weren’t here to tell me welcome home. i told you i didn’t feel welcomed without it!” now his voice is raising, aghast and disbelieving. you shrug, just staring at him with flat affect and dawning freshly picked neutrality. “i thought you were joking and finally developing a sense of humor. i was proud of you.” a squeak. he’s watching all his ridiculous reasonings be debunked and he just continues trailing down the list of them, much to your dismay.

if he’d shut up for a moment, you can get off the topic of what would have made it obvious and move on to something way more important, much more impactful. is he going to kiss you soon or what? so peculiar. he’d rather argue you down than take his shot with you and watch himself hit a bullseye. “i gave you my special mug to keep for your own because you said you wanted it.” another eye roll. “you broke my own special mug and told me to pick the one i wanted! i thought it was an eye for an eye. a mug for a mug!” he gestures towards the refrigerator. “i brought creamer, a banned substance, into this apartment for you.” “it’s creamer, xavier, not a confession. please be serious.” this time, his voice is small and sheepish. “i started giving you…head pats.” you can’t refute the intimacy of that one. you know it. he knows it. the smug smirk on his face not only knows it but is gloating about it. “fine, you got me there, but that still isn’t enough to infer romantic interest.” “i blatantly asked you to make it a permanent date with me to make dinner together on tuesdays. how much more obvious do i need to be?”

you furiously shake your head, protesting his claim. “no, no! you formally requested assistance with dinner on tuesdays. the word date was not aforementioned. you made it seem mandatory . in fact, you said it was only fair.” now, he’s blushing furiously, the tips of his ears going red. “it’s not mandatory, per se. it’s just the principle. and even still, you say that as a counter, yet you went over to his place instead of coming home to be with me…doing the cooking we agreed on and mutually enjoyed.” you scoff. “but it’s not mandatory to cook?” “well cooking isn’t mandatory, but it is mandatory that you genuinely like me back if we’re going to be doing domestic things like making meals to eat together. consistently. and openly. so when you do it with me for weeks and tell me entirely unprovoked that you like doing it with me, it gives the impression you want to be domestic with me. i only spend time at home, so i take that very seriously. i was starting to feel played with.” you won’t lie. all of his nonsense is just that: nonsense. but the idea that you left him feeling like you were giving mixed signals or like you were stringing him along for the fun of it deeply wounds you inside, because you also like him a hell of a lot. you would never go off and be intentionally confusing. “i wish you had said it clearly. we would have been on the same page a long time ago probably. i wouldn’t be spending a single tuesday there if i knew why you wanted me here.” xavier grumbles, “i genuinely don’t understand how you didn’t notice.”

“i genuinely don’t understand how you could possibly think i would?” you counter, the statement falling from your lips like a question that requires clarification. he steps closer to you, and for the first time, you see something new in his eyes: determination, passion, need, and desire. your breath catches in your throat when one hand goes around your waist, pulling you closer to him, the other cupping your cheek. your heart. that’s all you can hear is your heart thumping in your chest as if it might combust. “how is this for being crystal clear? i like making dinner for you and with you. i like that our hand towels are matching and next to each other. i like that the smell of my coffee wakes you up in the morning…i want to be the one that wakes you up in the mornings. so…with that being said, it’s tuesday and i want to make dinner with you tonight. if you want to make dinner with me, understand that you’re consenting to complete romantic affiliation.” “understood,” it comes out with no hesitation, your eyes glancing between baby blues and pretty, tinted lips begging and beckoning. “so, you’ll make dinner with me and consent to romantic affiliation?” he confirms, a lopsided grin forming. his choice of words begs a chuckle from you. you nod. “xavi, are you seriously asking me that? are you oblivious?” “can i kiss you now? i’ve been dying to.” you pout, feigning a great deal of disappointment and concern. “if you don’t know the answer, then maybe i really should go back across the hall…” his grip on your waist tightens, a soft thumb caressing your cheek and there’s that subtle smile you adore. “we’re definitely kissing because you have to be quiet. like right now.”

you laugh. “wow. that one was actually funny.” “what?” he asks, thrown by your response. “oh, nothing,” you sing. “c’mere,” smiling at your urge to draw him in, he leans down then, no longer willing to waste time being idle with you or staring into each other until you can’t take it. when his lips touch yours, the only thing you can think about is how soft they are, how smooth, silk against velvet. all you can think about is how gently he keeps you against his torso, how shyly his lips move with yours like he needs to test you out and know how you feel, like his lips have more to offer, but much like his conversational skill, you’ll have to coax him out of his timidity. when you both pull apart, you reach your hand up to touch his, tugging very gently on his fingers. he obliges your silent request for his hand, watching you with an enamored gaze, moving his palm from your face and allowing you to tangle your fingers together. you officially love his hands very much. you felt it on your cheek and now you feel it wrapped around every space between your fingers. the most peculiar thing of all about xavier seems to be just how correct your theory is: his hands are like satin, and they take immaculate care of anything they’re tasked with touching.

[rafeslvbug]

domestic duties! - military!rafe x lovebug!reader

when military!rafe is finally home…

…he runs his house like a military base. he can’t even fathom the chaos you’ve had to endure while he’s away, taking care of your identical twins with their father’s stubborn and reckless nature. so when he comes home, he sets things straight.

managing the boys

his little soldiers need to learn discipline, they have to respect him and they have to respect their momma, she’s the roots of the household.

they might be four year olds but are they too young for chores? no, sir. they’ve got to help their momma do their beds each day, hand her the pillows and make sure they tidy up their messes before bed.

he takes them into the backyard, plays games with them and makes them do drills, counting that as prep for the future. he’ll make it a contest : whichever boy can do ten pushups fastest gets to squirt the other with a water gun.

he’s not a bore though, he wants his sons to love him as much as they respect him. he’s not trying to instil fear like his father did in him, he wants them to be as loving as you. he’ll lift them, one in each arm, above the bunk beds, swoop them low and high, around the house for them to grab the scattered toys on the stairs or the kitchen.

at the end of the day, he’ll line the two up, do his little military calls :

“you brushed your teeth?”

“yes, sir!” they’d chant in their little voices.

“washed your hands?”

“yes, sir!”

“you eaten all your dinner?”

“yes, sir!”

“toys all picked up?”

“yes, sir?”

“you told your momma you love her?”

sheepish faces, wringing their chubby hands together when they murmur, “..no, sir”

“well then what are we waiting for? go! go! go!” he barks, their little toddler legs dashing up the stairs. he scoops them into his arms and charges up with them, just to remind them that he’s not mad at them - he’s only having fun.

managing you & the chores

rafe thinks you’ve had enough. he certainly hasn’t come home to be one of those lazy husbands, who makes their wife do all the housework like she’s some servant. no, it’s his house, his lady, his responsibility.

he’ll let you sleep in, let you curl onto his chest with one hand slipped under your shirt to rest on your back, waking up an hour before you to make you breakfast in bed.

dishes? he’ll do that. laundry? him and his sons’ work. cooking? you’ve cooked three meals every day for six months while he was away, he can cook them until his next deployment.

he might turn some things into a family activity though. you all watch a movie in the ridiculously sized living room, you sitting on the couch as you iron, rafe folding the clothes and the boys having to be delicate so as to not crease or mess the folding while they sort it into piles of whose clothes is whose. 

“now i know you’re not puttin’ my shirt in your pile, boy, you take that out. you wanna make a fort later on? i’ll get ya some blankets, or use your momma’s clothes”

“rafe! baby steal all your daddy’s clothes, he deserves it.”

your only real stress is planning for the holiday you guys are about to go on. no budget, no limitations, just somewhere rafe can relax. you get to pick out restaurant locations, air bnbs, activities for the kids, outfits etc. your current plan? florida, the boys love all things disney.

managing himself

rafe is severely disciplined. any day on base he’d wake up at four am, but at home? late mornings, tucked in with you.

doesn’t mean he gets no training done, though. he can’t get sloppy during his breaks, and come back to base like a potato. he’s got a form to maintain. he trains in the afternoon, for at least two hours. maybe he might even get you to sit on his back while he does push ups - just if it gets too easy.

this isn’t counting his time with the boys, which is like a whole other workout. running around the backyard, teaching them how to do pushups, taking them to jungle gyms, carrying them around the house. life is his workout.

he also makes time for you. at the end of the day, he wouldn’t be able to manage his life away and keep this family if it weren’t for you and your patience, how you make sure to call him with each and every moment of your kids’ lives and check up on him. so he makes sure that he stays as respectful as he teaches his boys to be.

you want to go to midsummers? he hates that shit, but for you, anything. you want to go the mall? hates that place too, but you’ve gotta take his card, he has to drive you and carry your bags. so he’s gotta go with. what you want, you get. it’s the least he can do.

inspo : @cameronsbabydoll

[ladypensivewrites]

In Your Eyes Pt.1

Soap x Servant!Reader | smut | masturbation (f) | Regency Era | I swear it's only a coincidence that both of my first fics on here have similar titles… | This is my first time ever writing smut, so feedback is welcome. | 1,849 words

In your eyes, Lord Johnny Mactavish was everything the ideal man should be. He was generous, kind, sweet, and funny. A little rugged at times but never lacked manners. He worked along with his servants and workers, and was never cruel. Lord Mactavish had kind eyes, a charming smile, and a voice that commanded respect and exuded trust. He had big hands and strong arms, a broad frame that showed his many years working the land he owned along with the men he employed. He had money, a big estate in the countryside, and was a man of honor. He would make a perfect husband and father. However, what you thought of him did not matter.

In his eyes you were his worker. One of many servants that kept the estate clean, welcomed his guests, and served his food. Your interactions with him were reduced to serving his meals or tea, during the monthly pensions he personally handed each worker, and in brief passing with only an exchange of small, kind greetings. Maybe even to very subtle, accidental touches—your fingers brushing momentarily only. The closest you’d ever gotten to him was cleaning his bedroom or his study, or doing his laundry, where your curiosity would get the best of you. You would snoop around occasionally with the excuse of arranging messes or dusting off surfaces if you were to be assigned that day to clean his room. 

You couldn't help it. You wanted to know more about the enigmatic Lord Mactavish. The older servants always had nice things to say about the young lord. He was different from so many close-minded, cruel rich men. He wasn’t lazy, he didn’t hit or insult his workers, he was hands-on and willing to get dirty. He was odd, they said. But if odd was like that, they would take it. You would take it.

In very few words you had become obsessed with Johnny Mactavish. Or well… the idea of him. At least you could be honest with yourself about that. You barely knew him. Actually, you didn’t know him at all. You were barely two years into working at the Mactavish Estate. You knew your boss didn’t even think of your existence until payday.

And… 

He wasn’t as perfect as you had made him to be in your mind. Yes, he was all those nice things. But he was a man after all. At least once a week he would either go out to the gentlemen’s club or bring back the usual girls. Very pretty women at that.  With elegant dresses he gifted them. With ridiculously beautiful smiles and handsome laughs. A rake. That is what he was. 

By all means you weren’t an innocent, prim-and-proper noble lady, either. You knew what men brought ladies into their bedchambers for. It was definitely not to play croquet, that’s for sure. The head maid would always tell the others to not go into the second floor during those days and the girls always gossiped. You obeyed of course, even as foolish jealousy creeped up on you. You knew it was stupid, and it felt childish. You didn’t want him to be with other women, and not because he was unmarried or because you expected him to be as much of a saint as he seemed to be, but because of your absurd crush on him. You wanted him to be faithful to the imaginary relationship your mind created. 

Which is why you crossed the line. Not that he knew. But you did. You were assigned to clean his room today, and you hid your eagerness. But then the head maid told you the lord was in a haste. He had a “friend” coming over, so the room had to be clean by the evening and the sheets had to be changed. You picked your cleaning supplies and headed upstairs, even as your body tensed. You walked through the spruce doors of his bedroom and placed your bucket down on the floor, the water splashing slightly. You worked on polishing the floors, wiped at your forehead as sweat gathered there in a thick sheen, then moved around quickly after. Anger made your blood boil even more than it already did, the burning heat of the summer coming through the open windows adding to your discomfort. 

You dusted off every surface, the feather duster clutched tightly in your unforgiving grip to the point that the wooden edges of the worn handle pricked and dug into your sweaty, calloused palm. You dropped the duster, filled up the jar at the basin near the door with fresh water and replenished the hand towels. Then you moved to the bed to change the sheets. What was the point? He would bring one of his lady friends here, make a mess and then you or another maid would have to clean the next day again. You grabbed the thin cotton blankets and tore them off of the bed and folded them. Then you grabbed the covers and started to pull them off, almost tearing the fabric as it caught on a corner. You cursed under your breath and stopped.

You needed to calm down. 

So you gently freed the corner and gathered the fabric in your arms. With a breath in, the scent of the sheets hit you for a second. You blinked and looked around. Curiously you pressed the sheets to your nose and inhaled, then sighed. God… He had the musky scent of sandalwood, basil, and bergamot, with a hint of fern from his soap. You folded the sheets carefully and moved back to the bed, extending your hands to the pillows. You dragged them towards you and let your fingers run over the silk. With a hesitant tuck of your bottom lip under your upper teeth, you leaned down and pressed your nose to one of the pillows. Your eyes fluttered close as your fingers curled into the cover, your mind racing with the thought of what it would be like to lay next to Lord Mactavish and press your nose into his neck. Maybe he would grab your hips, pull you in. Would you be naked? No, maybe clothed in a modest sleeping gown. Then, perhaps in the bright morning, he would softly, subtly push up the skirt of your gown as he ran his hand over the length of your leg up to your thigh.

With that image you bit down on your lip and pulled back. Looked around again and listened quietly, making sure no one was working outside the room before you reached under the thin layers of your work uniform and pulled your drawers down. With your heart pounding harshly against your ribcage you climbed into the bed. You could feel your heartbeat thump against your pulse, making your body feel hot and your face flush warmly. The heat wasn’t caused by the weather anymore and you knew it. It was thrilling even if it should have felt wrong. You swallowed thickly before pulling your skirts up again with shaky hands and slotting the stacked pillows vertically between your thighs, straddling them. Leaning forward and placing your hands flat on the bed you moved your hips forward and backwards trying to find the familiar sensation of self indulgence. 

You closed your eyes and kept imagining. He would slip his hand, yes, between your legs to feel the heat gathering between your inner thighs. You pressed your cunt down, the silk beginning to moisten under you and catch against your skin. He would find it, the little pebbled nerve of your clit, so you reached your hand between your legs and found it as it pulsed and twitched needly. You whimpered as you imagined his rough, Scottish accent as he whispered in your ear. “I need you, lovie.” 

“It is daytime.” You would tell him, trying to seem innocent, and he would laugh in that sinful tone that made your sex heat up and slick. You had heard him laugh before. It was a beautiful sound and you yearned for it. To be the reason he laughed. You wanted to see his gray eyes crinkle on the corners as his lips stretch in that wide, boyish grin. Wanted to feel his lips against your skin as his fingers pinched and circled your clit slowly, torturously. You whined and covered your mouth with your other hand. 

You pressed your thighs harder against the pillows, making them bunch up slightly more against you, causing the perfect friction. The silk caught between your folds, the soft fabric rubbing against your clit along with your fingers deliciously. You moved the hand away from between your legs and grasped the top pillow to force it harder against you. Your eyes rolled back, your breaths becoming ragged and fast as you breathed through your nose. A moan slipped, muffled by your palm, as your legs began to shake, your tummy tight. 

“Johnny-” You whined, dropping your hand from your mouth to grasp at the bed. Your hips stutter, the friction becoming too overwhelming. “Johnny- You…” You hiccuped and shuddered, “You’re mine, my Lord. Mine- Oh-” You tried to keep going, push longer, but it was too much. You wanted so desperately to put your claim on him. Leave your mark behind. The thought of him finding your slick, your release, on his sheets would be satisfying. You wanted those women to know he was yours. Your scent to be all over his bed. So, you halted, your sharp pants filling the empty room. With wide eyes you ran a hand over your heated face, your head pounding along with the rest of your body and your heart. You placed a hand over your mouth as if trying to calm your breaths, slowly easing your grip on the pillow. 

Yes, you wanted them to know. You wanted him to know of your affections, of your desire for him, but you knew this wasn’t the way. You didn’t want him to find out this way, even if the thought felt like a rush. Exhilarating. He would be disgusted. Appalled by you. You didn’t want that. You didn’t want him to hate you, let alone lose your job because of this… mistake.

You ultimately let go of the pillow and, with shaky legs, moved off to stand up. You quickly put your briefs back on, even as sticky slick made your folds feel uncomfortable. You then grabbed the pillow, grimacing at the spot of wetness you left on the silk, and slid the cover off, the other pillow following. Your chest felt heavy, your mind replaying your actions over and over. Guilt creeped up on you, so you grabbed a new pillow from an elegant storage trunk to replace the soiled one. 

It's fine, no one will find out. You thought as you gathered all the laundry from the floor along with your cleaning supplies and placed them into your basket, moving to clean the bathroom. Unfortunately, someone would know, as his gray eyes had witnessed everything through the half-opened door.

[dilfstarr]

Connie x Zoro x black fem reader

a/n: at the same zamn timee. lmk if yall want a more intimate (wink wink) fic with the two moss heads

꩜ warning: poly relationship, mutual masturbation, phone sex??, weed smoking, zoro has a pierced nipple, tips kissing, domish!reader?

Your pink MacBook shifted along your lap—tugging the screen backwards so your boyfriend could get a picture perfect view of your pretty face. With your girls trip to Milan coming to an end in a few hours, you became eager to fly back home.

Yes Italy was beautiful, and the week spent with your friends was much needed, but with the lack of your loves, you wanted to go home asap. You began to think about it more—a pout contorting your beautiful facial features. Noticing immediately, Zoro clicked his tongue, snapping you out of it.

“Stop poutin’ mama. You got a fight in less than eight hours.”

Zoro sat shirtless in your view. His lime green hair, freshly dyed, poked shyly out of his black bandanna. He laid lazily against the couch—puffing on a fat blunt. Turning his head to ash the smoke, you could see your initial below his ear in red ink. The camera was sat horizontally against the glass pink vase holding your white tulips.

“I know but I can’t help it. Im tired of eatin’ pasta and cigarettes! Plus I need some dick! I’m goin’ crazy!”

He chuckled, taking a hit of the j. Sitting up with a grunt, he tapped Con twice on his arm to pass the joint over. With him being so close to the camera, you could see the slight discoloration of his scar.

“Don’t worry. When you get here, you’ll have a home cooked meal and all the dick you can handle. Take the blunt Con, damn!”

“Shit my bad.”

Pausing the game and taking off his headset, he took the drug leaning back against the couch—finally showing his face. Connie mirrored Zoro’s lazy sitting style. His white wife beater was see through—showing the dark ink plastered underneath the thin material.

“Y’all are so fuckin’ fake, I swear!”

With Connie now being in frame, you got to see all of him— including his buzz cut dyed lime green—the same color as your boyfriend. They laugh in unison at your tantrum.

“Told you she was gone throw a fit.” Zoro’s voice became visibly heavier and slower as the drug consumed him. He watched Con with low eyes—licking his bottom lip as he took a drag.

Connie gave a small whatever—passing the blunt back over.

“You ready to come back home princess? I’ve been missin’ you.”

“We’ve.” Zoro corrects, taking a hit and placing the joint in the ashtray.

“Of course I am. I feel homesick.”

Your voice became smaller as your sentence concluded. This is the longest you’ve been without them and it was starting to take a toll on you. You missed being intimate with them. Not even on a sexual level—timeless hugs, late night conversations, forehead kisses—you were deprived. While they had each other and you had nobody.

“Don’t be sad princess. Me and Pa are goin’ to be at the airport at seven o’clock sharp!”

“That’s right. Plus we got a lot of lovin to catch up on. Connie can only take so much.”

Their efforts at helping you change your attitude were a success—a soft giggle blasting through the phone speakers.

“We love you mama. Go ahead and sleep so you can come home.”

“Wait! Before I hang up, could Y’all do something for me?”

✿ ❀ ✿ ❀ ✿

Zo’s head was slumped against the back of the couch with his bottom lip tucked between his pearly whites. His stroking was slow—taking his time caressing his long tan dick. While one hand worked his cock, the other laid lifeless to his side.

“Wan’ see your pretty face papa.” Your sensual whisper was similar to a siren’s voice.

At the sound of his name, he lifted his head to look at the phone—the soft jingle of his triple earrings clanking together was almost unheard from his heavy breathing. His dark grey eyes were low and red from the weed—also pleasure.

“Thanks papa.”

Connie’s strokes were more rapid—using both hands instead of one. One payed more attention to the thick tip—circling his palm around it, while the other cupped his balls.

Instead of looking at you, he watched the steady strokes Zoro gave to himself to get off. His groans were always more louder and longer than his boyfriend’s—almost more than yours on some nights.

Precum coated them beautifully—adding a nice little glimmer to their manhoods from the dimmed lights from the overhead chandelier. And how could you forget the beautiful sound of their different tempo slick’s from their stroking.

“My daddies are so sexy.”

It was always turn on for you to watch your boyfriend’s pleasure themselves in front of you—it was just something about the noises and the faces they made when they came. Made your tummy flutter with butterflies.

“T-thanks mama.”

“Thank you princess—shit!”

Con’s eyes drifted from his boyfriend’s dick to his own. His leg began bounced gently against the couch—his body warning him he’s close. He was trying to hold off and edge himself to wait for his boyfriend but Zoro he wasn’t having it.

“Let that shit out Con.”

Zoro’s voice was enough to get him to nut. His low eyes crossed before closing—cum coating his lower stomach. He was mute for the first two shots of his milky release before braking it by his low deep groans.

“Ssshhhiiiittt! Augh-fuhck!”

His body jerked everytime his wet fingers grazed the sensitive underside of his thick cock. He had to let go of himself because it became too intense—his dick throbbing across his thick thigh.

Zoro’s pace increased after witnessing Con’s orgasm. Out of the many things you had in common—watching Connie nut together was at the top of the list.

“Fuuck! M’gon-huuuhshhhhit!”

Right as his orgasm peaked over, Con’s tongue grazed across your initial on his neck before sucking gently. His tattoo littered fingers tweaked his nipple—specifically the one with the gold bar pierced through it. With his sensitive spots being stimulated, it made him cum harder.

His cum shot higher than his Connie’s—coating his chest and the lower part of his neck. With every spurt of his release, his hips jerked upward—imitating him cumming inside one of his partners. His head found the back of the couch once again.

“That was so sexy daddies, thank you.” Your grin was genuine as you spoke into the camera lens. “Can you do one more teeny-tiny thing before I go.”

They both gave a breathless chuckle at your question—Con ultimately answering, “You’re needy tonight princess. What do you need, hm?”

“Can you… can you make them kiss?”

Oh how you wished you were there—their softening cock heads were pressed up together, making a soft splat sound from it being drenched in cum. Pulling them apart—a thin web of their mixed sperm connected their cocks like a bridge, before snapping.

You took a FaceTime photo.

[1oftherottenones]

Would you do some head cannons for Female mc and about some fluff for sol and crowe how they'd be after mc got out of a surgery? (Me fr rn but stuck in bed lol)

🌟Crowe Ichabod and Sol Brugmansia x Reader Headcanons 💚

Reader pronouns: She/her

Pairing: Solivan Brugmansia and Jericho "Crowe" Ichabod x Fem! surgeryrecovery!reader

Plot: You just got out of surgery! Now you're recovering... Both Sol and Crowe want to help you have the most comfortable recovery!

Extra: I'm so sorry my posting schedule is wack. But I hope you recover soon and I hope this might help a little bit 🫶

- Immediately getting out of surgery, Crowe was the first one to meet you and take you home from the hospital.

- Once you arrived home, you found a bouquet of flowers outside your house with a printed "get well soon" card. You were unsure of who it was from but somehow it ended up being your favorite flowers.

- Once Crowe helps you settle into bed, he insists upon making you a good and balanced meal, you at first said it was fine and you'd eat something that could just be thrown in the microwave, but he refused to let you do that.

- Crowe wanted to ask if he could stay the night to make sure you were okay but he felt like he would be too overbearing if he asked. But he still stayed pretty late until you fell asleep.

- In the morning you woke up to little breakfast snacks on your bedside table from Crowe so that you wouldn't hurt yourself getting up and trying to make yourself breakfast.

- You also woke up to two messages, one from Crowe and one from one of your newer friend, Sol.

- Crowe's message said, "I hope you're feeling well, call me if you need me to come back or if you need anything at all."

- Sol's message said, "Hey... I heard you just got out of the hospital. Is it okay if I stop by to check on you?"

- You tell Sol to come on over (little did you know that he's already been over several times and even visited the hospital with your knowledge)

- Sol comes over with a little gift bag with a little stuffed animal and some candy (or whatever treats you like)

- ^ He seemed a little embarrassed to give them to you but you expressed your gratitude and he seemed a little more at ease!

- He stayed around for a while, keeping you company! The two of you got to talk for a while, though he really let you do most of the talking. He happens to be a wonderful listener.

- You ended up drifting off to sleep at one point and Sol still stuck around of course...

- Later in the day, Crowe did take it upon himself to come over and check on you.

- Crowe was surprised to see Sol already over, but mostly friendly anyway.

- ^ You could kind of tell there was a weird awkward tension between them for some reason.

- Both of them insisted on cooking for you and it almost felt a little passive aggressive, like a competition of some sorts but maybe a little bit of a one-sided competition...

- They had a little bit of a quarrel about what to cook for you .

- "She needs this, it will help her body recover faster."

"Okay but she wants this and it can be nutritious for the body as well."

- You could hear them both cooking in your kitchen, mostly muttering and talking quietly to each other every now and again... It was hard to tell if they were getting along or not...

- Based on that awkward encounter, throughout the next week you had them come over but only every other day so that they wouldn't be stuck in the same house together again.

- Both of them would cook for you, whatever you wanted.

- They help you walk if you needed to get up for something.

- ^ Sol seemed a little flustered getting that close and touching you, you had to resist the urge to tease him about it.

- Crowe would come and watch movies with you at night, mostly bad movies that the two of you could giggle at.

- A few times, you and Crowe got into some pretty deep conversations, he had the habit of asking random but really deep questions, which often led to long and deep discussions.

- Since you were missing a lot of your classes, the both of them would bring you whatever notes and stuff that you missed.

- Sol would come over and you two would still get to work on your art project together since you didn't have to do much active stuff to do it.

- Most of the time either of them were over, you would be really tired and end up falling asleep throughout the day. You probably slept more than hanging out with them.

- Neither of them would mind. Sol once remarked that you looked like sleeping beauty, though he said it quietly under his breath, hoping you didn't actually hear him say that.

- Hyugo once texted you that week, saying he was going to stop by with Sol but that, "Sol wants you all to himself →⁠_⁠→"

- You giggled about it and mentioned it to Sol, let's just say, Hyugo got a VERY long and angry message from Sol.

- ^ But you found it cute and endearing. Even when Sol tried to come up with some kind of excuse and accuse Hyugo of being dramatic.

- Crowe would text you all the days he wasn't over and send you lots of get well soon messages. He would also send you pictures and videos that he found online that reminded him of you!

- Crowe would take you to any other doctor appointments you had to go to.

- Both of the boys had the schedule for your medication memorized, so you had constant reminders to take your medicine.

- One of your friends called you to check in on you, absolutely astonished that you had two guys coming to your house everyday.

"How can a girl be stuck in a house with attractive guys all day!? Surgery or not, are you sure you aren't playing two guys?"

- You thought it was funny. But really they were both very attractive. You've always kind of had a thing for Crowe, but Sol was also totally adorable...

- ^ Thinking about it made your head hurt and your face hot so you just had to push the thoughts aside for now and ignore how boyfriendly it might come off to have Sol and Crowe taking care of you.

- Once you fully recovered and coming back to school regularly, you were a little disappointed to not have them coming over anymore.

- ^ But it was a little bit of an opening to start inviting either of them over for casual hangouts!

[firstkanaphans]

How do you think, is it possible that Khao and Ciize dating? I have no problems if Khaotung and First are just friends, I'll support them either way. I just think that it's quite impressive – to be in a relationship for so many years (Ciize and Khao know each other forever) and be so good in hiding it. If they are friends, it still good too, they look like lesbian and gay besties (i'm not assuming which sex they prefer, it just first impression) . But it could be more than that. I wish every actor in this industry could talk openly about their real relationships, then there would be much less drama.

And about THAT video, where they were spotting together. I think First looking straight in camera there and maybe that's why he was so affectionate towards Khao, because he knew that drama would come and he was trying to cover up it with some fs. That how real friend would have done.

I just want to speculate, maybe it means nothing. And I hate rumors that depend on nothing. But we have something here. Maybe there were signals or smth earlier, I'm new in a fandom

For those who have no idea what OP is talking about, First and Khao were seen having a meal with Ciize and View a few days ago. The original video has since been deleted but it just showed the four of them sitting together in a crowded restaurant. There was nothing to suggest anyone was on a date and yet people have gone a bit crazy speculating.

Here's my take: I feel very confident in saying Khao and Ciize are not dating because although Khao keeps his personal life private, Ciize is an open book and she's been very vocal over the past year that she is no longer interested in dating men.

She talked on a live with Jan and Jane back in September about how her perspective on love had changed and she is now more interested in dating women. [Note: Whoever translated that clip originally was a MilkCiize shipper and altered the translation to make it seem like Ciize is currently dating a woman. Ciize is talking about an ideal future partner. Not someone she is dating currently. But other than that, it seems accurate.] She also reinforced that sentiment just last month by literally saying, "I want to date women because men are bad."

I also just don't think any of these people would be caught dead having a meal with someone they're actually dating because they're not idiots. Just let them hang out with their friends. And never forget that the karaoke kiss happened at Ciize's birthday party. We owe her a debt of gratitude and yet this is how the fandom's chosen to repay her? Let her date girls in peace 😭

[prapaiwife]

Estwilliam Dr. Ally recap!! More so for me!! I love them 😭😭😭

Again, MayaTv pulling my heart out with their beautiful shots, they both hold so much love and adoration in each other's eyes. ppl in love make me sick!🥹

then this mayatv do they want me to cry?!

Also, what est said about their rwrb photoshoot it was all their idea😭😭😭😭

(Trans): est- Actually, red white & royal blue is a series i already like, so i wanted to do it because i thought it would be fun. at first, i thought it would be too difficult because the outfit really had to get stained with cake. but then phi said it could be done, so we rented a studio ourselves and set everything up as one big production.

(Trans): William- I want everything that has happened in the past, all the stressful things, to just go away. I don't want him to think about it again. I know he is much stronger now. I don't want anything to hurt him because there probably won't be anything more serious than what we've been through already, and I don't want it to happen again. I want him to live happily ever after.

"Happily ever after" stfu😭😭😭😭😭😭

When asked about new projects series

Talking about the new series👀

(William): It's in the discussion phase. It's not yet confirmed what it will be.

More couples pics!!🤧🥺

About the dinner for est birthday!🥰 (translation)

Est: the time when it was just the two of us going out, we just had a normal meal, like it’s like on his birthday, i took him out for his birthday and on my birthday, he took me out

William: Yes, i took him out, too. Like, we switched.

🎤: So, who chose the restaurant or set the whole vibe this time?

William: Uh, this time, it was me.

🎤: yeah, because you seem like someone who usually goes to regular places.

Est: Yes, i mean, honestly, i didn’t think it would even happen. like, i figured it was just his style. probably think, no big deal, we’ll just meet up and go eat then

🎤: and what did you imagine his style would be like, before it actually happened?

Est: i figured it’d be like super chill, forgetful vibe like, all spaced out and just “happy birthday na phi” or something like that. but he texted me that night, asked if i wanted to go eat, said “i’ll send you the location, it’s nearby”. so i was like, okay sure, just send it.

William: Yes, but let me give some backstory. i’ve never done anything like this before. this was the first time. and since i was doing it, it came out kind of pure and a little clueless. i used tiktok, and i looked up “top 10 glamorous restaurants” because i figured we’d take some photos too. i was like, what do i even do? so i searched on tiktok. just scrolling and saving, and i remembered that the two of us once talked about wanting to go eat good meat together. so i chose this one place. at first, i actually told p’ko (manager) that i couldn’t decide. i was like, “can you help me choose a place?” and p’ko was like, “just be honest and say you can’t decide,” but then i felt like, i have to do this. i have to find the place myself. so i kept scrolling and looking right then and there, found the restaurant, and booked it myself. this whole thing totally opened up my world.

[whatonearthisgoingon]

Part 2. of Aaro's Hear Me Out Cake!!!

Some of my moots (@/werewolfadmirerer) were concerned about a Hear Me Out I did recently, and did not expect that level of freak from me. Well moot, I am a freak, and you're gonna see how bad it is! We are strictly doing the non-human characters for the first two parts of this list; if I feel like it, I'll keep going from there!

This is not ranked, this is just as I think of them. No real order.

Sadly only 30 pictures are allowed per post, so I'm going to continue this list for a while; will link all the other parts on each part. Each part will have 15 characters, as I'm giving each character 2 pics.

I was also informed I must tag the moots. You will be tagged underneath all this.

TW: Sex talk, obviously, it's a hear me out cake.

(Please remember viewers, I am a teenager, meaning other teenagers on the list isn't creepy af.)

Part 1. Part 2.

#16. Bill Cipher.

I mean, he's literally my pfp, are we surprised. Both him and his monster form make this list! Dangerous god? Sign me tf up. 

#17. Chewbacca from Star Wars.

He's a sweetheart, and I love him, and I'm down. It might be a little furry and messy, but it's fine.

#18. Iscream from Chikn Nuggit

Specifically when they’re being an evil demonic psychopath. The normal bunny is just there for ref. They just a fun demon that could kill me, which means I’m down u-u

#19. Izsha from Starcraft 2 

She is just amazing and super cool. I loved her moments in the game. Like look at her design!!! She’s awesome. Am so down- 

#20 Vorazun from Starcraft 2

Baddie. She’s just super cool and I love her; her design is amazing. Like, so down. She’s serving. 

#21 Valentino from Hazbin Hotel. 

Okay, yes, he’s vile and gross, and a pervert- I know! That’s why he needs to be fucked into submission and be absolutely humiliated infront of all of hell, and be brought down permanently 500 pegs, which is something I would absolutely enjoy doing. Besides, he’s already got all the kink shit at his house, it’d just be used on him for once; I wouldn’t have to spend a dime. Good situation for everyone involved, except Valentino. Plus, he kinda serves sometimes. 

#22. The Crooked Man from Conjuring 2 

Ima be real, I haven’t seen the movie. I saw him in one edit, and fell in love just off vibes alone. This might be a guess, but I think he’d have a biting kink with those teeth. Would be down. 

#23. Krampus from Krampus (2015)

Loved that movie; love him just for the vibes honestly. He was so creepy and cool, down to hit. 

#24. Norman from Scary Sushi

He’s just such a vibe, and I love him. Creepy little goober. Those teeth would be great.

#25. Davy Jones from Pirates of the Caribbean

The immortal sea creature is fine, okay? Shut up.

#26. Rattlesnake Jake

Maybe it’s the American in me, but machine gun snake? I loved it, and would so hit. 

#27. The Blood Rain scene in NOPE (2022)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lA8c-zTiPmE 

I love this movie, and the Jean Jackets are so cool. While I could hear those out, it’s the scene that’s really it. 

#28. Lumiere from Beauty and the Beast. 

Now, this stems from two things. One, his accent and demeanor and just overall in the movie; amazing. The second thing? When I was in Beauty and the Beast, playing Cogsworth, my boyfriend at the time was playing Lumiere, and that might influence this slightly. But overall, he’s just a vibe, y’know? 

#29. The Minotaur from Gravity Falls. 

He was a fucking sweetheart!! I loved that episode; he was amazing. I want to cuddle him, and eat meals with him, and get brutally railed later. Just look at him!? 

#30. Seraphims and Ophanim from the Bible

They are neat. I like it. I will not explain. 

@acelovesremuslupin @adanmwere @alizardsusername @astrawantssleep @bikisser23 @birdiefromafar @blitzstoneshouldbecanon @bluebasie @cool-lesbian-is-here @cuculoooo @destroy-the-binary @getsuuna @gigiyuu @gimmiecandy @harrietthespywastaken @hey-look-at-the-stars @ineffablelyqueerwolfstarshipper @lllaced @lookitsabooknook @love-hate-love00 @luna---lovegood @mentallyillwacko @mikeywaysbass @mochamoony @moonchild311 @moonsrunes @moonyscribe @mrecury42 @mxlovey32 @my-castles-crumbling @not-a-gay-fangodess @olympushaze @permetutotheworld @reaperlight @reggblkk @serpentine-starlight @siriuslyobsessed394 @siriuslysirius101 @sk1llz-heeler @starman-01 @studying-n-running @symbiotic-slime @tired-writer-in-progress @tistheraven @theduchessr @the-stars-in-between @thepicklekingog @unnecessaryheadache @urpants @welcometoh0rr0rwood @werewolfadmirer @whos-fin-anyway @xxlady-lunaxx @yes-ofc-i-bite

[sharksfrommars]

An Asylum Ask.

I wonder how Canon Ford and Stanley, would react to Asylum Stan and Ford?

I have a few head cannons of this interaction.

The first is Canon!Ford and Asylum!Stan meeting in the Multiverse the first time and Ford would go straight for the attack until Stan blocks it and then Ford notices his robotic arm. 🦾 and easily knew that wasn’t his Stanley.

Both sets of twins would meet each other, twice.

The first time would be three days after each other’s portal fiascos. Both would checkout their counterparts. And A!Ford telling C!Ford telling him everything he went through being in locked up in an Insane for Three Decades with Bill possessing him.

Canon!Ford would be beyond Furious at Bill and Stanley, but mostly Stanley for even putting this Ford in that position in the first place. But A!Ford would get defensive and say that everything was his fault. Both would argue.

The second would be after Weirdmageddon. And both Ford’s coming to an understanding.

I’ve actually been thinking about this so much. Literally such a good idea. I love your mind.

The first time, it’s A.Stan and c.Ford, meeting in the multiverse. It’s on fucking sight for Ford, who is still mad at his own Stan about the whole portal thing. A.Stan wasn’t expecting to see a Ford either. He especially wasn’t expecting to be beat up by one. Stan was sure that this was how he was going to die, until Ford suddenly stopped. 

“You’re not my Stanley.” He said.

“Yeah, no shit. My Ford is still in my home dimensions.”

They stood awkwardly together for a while.

“Sorry” blurted out Ford, “I thought you were someone else.”

That got a hearty laugh out of Stan, who offered to buy Ford a drink. Ford declined, but Stan insisted. So Ford opted for disappearing into a crowd before this Stan could find him again. Ford wasn’t sure he was ready to sit through a meal with Stanley again. Even if it wasn’t his Stanley.

The second time, c.Ford had fallen into a.Ford’s dimension. C.Ford hadn’t realised it was a parallel dimension until he saw himself on the street, staring at him with a crazed look on his eyes.

A.Ford was sure that it was a hallucination. He had a lot of those. He didn’t want to stick around for the hallucinations to start telling him how evil he was. So a.Ford ran. C.Ford chased him, mostly out of a sense of curiosity. 

Eventually c.Ford caught up with a.Ford. 

And now, c.Ford wasn’t sure what to say. They were in a park, with a.Ford sitting by a fountain, looking at the ducks swimming in it.

“Dr Bauer tells me that the meds should’ve stopped the hallucinations by now. Why are you still here?” A.Ford said, not looking up.

“Ha- I’m not a hallucination, you fool! I’m you! From another dimension!”

“Dr Bauer would kill me if he heard I was talking to you, you know. He’s a shit psychiatrist, and he doesn’t deserve his doctorate. But, you’re me. So you already know that.”

C.Ford wanted to claw his eyes out. Instead, he sat. And watched the ducks swimming in silence. It was a while before either of them spoke.

“What happened?” C.ford said, “why do you need a psychiatrist?”

“Nothing you don’t already know. You are me, after all.”

“Just…. Humour me.”

So a.Ford explained. Granted, the explanation made little to no sense. And then the police came, because apparently a.Ford had “escaped the asylum”. So c.Ford decided to disappear.

[theactualsunshinechild]

*banging my fists against the wall helplessly, tears streaming down my face*

MY RAREPAIR STILL HASN'T INTERACTED AND AT THIS POINT I'M NOT SURE THEY EVER WILL

[zorionbbq]

party chat #56: nanba's transformation

(transcript both in alt text and below)

[image description: five-page comic of a "party chat" conversation from yakuza 7.

beneath the scaffolding of a construction site, nanba holds a bottle of tea and asks "hey, you think i've changed at all since we met?"

the rest of the party, standing or crouching on the side of the path, turn to look at him.

"hm? have you?" ichiban tilts his head, hand on chin, and lets saeko pick from his chip bag. "i dunno, lemme think..."

adachi leaps to his feet, splashing his can of beer and surprising saeko. "got it!"

adachi snaps his fingers with a triumphant smile. "you changed how you part your hair!"

"huh?" nanba reaches toward the back of his own head. "nope, it's still the same..." adachi sheds a single tear.

hand raised high, saeko announces "right! your prescription changed!" ichiban taps a canned coffee on his palm in an "i get it!" motion. "what, are you trying to be funny now!? and that's wrong, too!" nanba retorts.

"okay!" han looks serious. "you changed the frames on your glasses!"

"you started wearing contacts instead of glasses!" zhao finger-guns with a grin.

"will you quit it with the glasses thing!?" nanba snaps at an unfazed, juicebox-sipping han. "and does it look like i'm wearing contacts!?" he gestures at himself. zhao smugly bites an onigiri, still squatting on the ground.

adachi frowns around a pocky. "huh? then what's changed?"

"never mind... sheesh." nanba turns his back on the group.

a view of the vending machine and soccer field across the way. "i just thought maybe i'd grown a bit cheerier since i met you guys."

"that's all." nanba doesn't see the party staring in shocked silence.

saeko, han, and zhao exchange fond looks.

nanba chugs his tea as ichiban approaches.

ichiban bumps his drink hand against nanba's.

"well, we already knew that, man." ichiban grins so wide his eyes shut.

"yeah, you smile a lot more than you did before, nan-chan." saeko concurs, offering him her chip bag.

nanba looks up, eyes wide. "ichiban... you guys..."

a hand lands on nanba's shoulder.

arm slung over his friend's back, ichiban cheerfully assures "and i noticed that you got some new lenses on your glasses, too." nanba's face falls.

the party loses it. saeko collapses on adachi, both doubled over in laughter, zhao cackles as his glasses fall off, and han clutches his head in despair.

"i didn't change anything about my glasses!" nanba roars. on the ground, a plastic bag of leftover snacks reads "#56 nanba's transformation".

end image description]

[skitskatdacat63]

Yes these have all already been posted, but 2023 Vettonso comp post for me because I'm going to have an emotional breakdown

[dreamcatcher-roulette]

I still haven't recovered from Sydney actually oh my god. I went a little um. Crazy. On the snapshots. And I started trying to figure out which pose to do with who and if I should do something special with yooh because she's my ult bias but ultimately I was like well but I love them all. Hearts for everyone. So the first six were in Melbourne and genuinely every single one of them was magical and I don't regret a single bit of that money because I'm first of all so happy I got to thank all of them in person but also I'm going to treasure those pics forever but then Sydney was like. The Big one. You know. AND SHE PRANKED ME.

[I removed the image because I got Scared people who know me could see the image and realise it's me even with the blur lol. She's giving me bunny ears]

So now I have six hearts and yooh doing this which is better than I could have ever imagined 😭 the spike in my heartrate halfway back to the SVIP hitouch line when I opened my photos and realised....

[vox-off]

bones knows how to fetch 😭

[boot-prints]

One day I'm going to settle down, I'm going to put down roots and watch them grow. I'm going to be able to make choices that last, that I might keep all my life. I might change my mind on some of them, and that's okay too, because I will have the time for both.

I love my life and the ever changing nature of it but I'm excited to build something that lasts one day. I'm excited to rest.

[sinofwriting]

Since starting to watch Screaming Meals I just want to include the podcast/the boys in all my fics so sorry not sorry but the next thing for Oscar and Apples will be a blurb with them, may also do one of the boys talking about Daniel and Sweets. And also Princess and Logan since they've mentioned/brought up Logan on the pod