How does everyone feel about chaptered fics? I've never written in that style but I've got one in the works for Henry/001/Vecna and I just wanna know how ya'll feel about that. Like would you prefer chaptered fics or just one mega huge fic?

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Also I realize it's been so long since I've posted anything, but I am quite literally writing this fic right now so something is coming just wanna know how you guys want it.

So, I've always played around with this idea of meeting Jonathan in the Dark Room at the school and getting his help there. I really hope it is fluffy enough for you and what you're looking for!

Warning, don't yell at me: I was brought up with polaroid cameras so I've never really used a Dark Room. I did my best with some Googling around to get it accurate but please excuse any inaccuracies. Thank you to parallax photographic coop and invaluable for having simple guides that I've based this off of.

Synopsis: Jonathan helping out the NB!reader with developing photos as he develops a crush.

Pronouns: Gender Neutral/Nonbinary. No mention of pronouns nor bodily anatomy.

Warning: Fluff, crushing, some flaffing about, inaccuracies to camera lovers shield your eyes, Me thinking I'm funny.

Word Count: 4,840 ---

"Okay, film strip." You mutter to yourself as you try for what feelings like the 80th time. "Firmly in the slide." You nod. "Resin paper." You say as you adjust it for the millionth time but maybe this time a nudge to the left is what it needs. "Turn on the enlarger." You say taking a deep breath and flipping the switch only to be rewarded with nothing! "Kill me." You mutter as you remove your film strip to see it's ruined...again. It's now blown out and useless. "What am I doing wrong?" You whined.

As if it wasn't enough to feel like an idiot, the Darkroom door opens and closes and now you're an idiot with an audience. You look over and at least your audience is cute, he gives you a tight smile and you sent a polite one back with a nod of acknowledgement before looking back to the few strips of film you've got left. You hope maybe he's going to use the enlarger so you can figure out what you're doing wrong but as you peak over at him you don't know what he's doing but it doesn't seem to have any relation to what you need to get done and you can't help but to let out a defeated sigh. The noise catches his attention and he looks over at you to see if there's some kind of problem and he's left a little confused when you practically flinch and snap your head in the other direction away from him.

He tries to not let it get to him but he finds his eyes wandering over to you as he prepares his development mixture and stop bath to develop his negatives. He's pretty sure you're new or at least new to the Darkroom cause he's never seen you around and he practically lives in here during school hours. Jonathan really feels like you can get a feel of someone by seeing what kind of camera they shoot on and what they capture so he tries to peak around to find any clues as to what you use and he finds a clue but it only leads to more questions. A film canister that looks like it's been sawed open and your film is just laying on the counter and not in anything protective...oh, you're new in more ways than one. He knows what it's like to feel watched and how much it sucks so he tries to at least make himself look busy but he watches as you try enlarge your film and he sees your shoulders sag to the ground in defeat. Nervousness swells in his throat over the idea of talking to someone new but he does know about film and it's clear that you don't. "You need a hand?" He timidly offers.

You're both relieved to have help and incredibly embarrassed that it's that obvious you have no idea what you're doing. "That clear huh?" You try to joke looking over at him.

He shrugs a little. "Little." He admits with a small cringe.

"Yeah, I'd love a hand...I'm used to polaroid and this is not that." You explain.

He nods and puts whatever he's mixing down and comes over. "So, you're just trying to enlarge your photos?" He checks and you nod. "Maybe it's the focus, it can be a pain." He comforts.

And it's nice he's not out right calling you an idiot. "I didn't know I needed to focus...I wrote down what the dude at the CVS told me." You tell him going into your pocket to take out the notes you'd jotted down just to double check, not that you haven't been staring at this piece of paper for what feels like eternity.

"They don't always give the best advice cause they want you to pay them money to do it for you." He said shaking his head.

"Didn't think of that." You admit. "I'm so used to just taking the photo and then having it." You sigh, God why did your camera have to break?

"It takes some practice but the results are way better." He say quietly as he lets his prejudge slip and he almost freezes up as he realizes he has. He knows people can get so defensive about shooting preference and he really doesn't want to get off on the wrong foot with you. "Not that polaroid's aren't good." He quickly tacks on with an uneasy breath.

You're not bothered though, you don't know enough about film to be bothered so you just nod along so you don't make an ass out of yourself. "Your films already in there and lined up?" He checks and you again nod.

He presses the button to start it and you hope against all hope that a photo will come out but again nothing and you sigh as disappointment finds a new home in your gut, not even a cute guy can fix your problems. "Maybe I'm just cursed." You concede.

"No, it's gotta be something else..." His voice dies off as he takes your film out to inspect it to see it's entirely blown out and realization hits him about just how new to this you are. Oh...how does he say this? He looks over at you and you really do look nice enough, friendly, good looking and at that his nerves swell up his throat so hard that he has to clear it before he can speak. "Found the problem." He barely admits.

And your eyes light up, if he's found the problem maybe he can fix it and you can leave here with at least one photo, maybe a cute guy can fix your problems. "Yeah?" You encourage for him to continue.

He lifts your film between his two fingers and fidgets with them. "It's not developed." He tells you.

And you feel like a dear caught in the headlights cause..."Isn't that what I'm doing?"

He swallows down the small chuckle that threatens to bubble up and out of his mouth and chews on his lip before shaking his head. "No." Is the nicest way he can put it.

And you try to take that in and he can see the clear disappointment and turmoil on your face. "So, I've just been burning film?" It's more of a realization than it is a question.

He cringes and gives you a nod. "I-I can show you how to develop your negatives." He offers nodding as he talks almost like he's confirming his words to himself. Which is exactly what he's doing.

"I don't want to be a bother." Yes you do, you wanna bother him so bad but shy reflexes kick themselves into gear before you can stop them.

"I wouldn't offer if it was a bother." He lets you know, giving a shake of his head.

It's nice to know that not everyone at this school was a rude tool and it's almost a relief that someone has finally been nice to you, you can't help but to smile. And it earns you a small shy smile back. "Thank you." You remember to say.

He nods a little and for a moment he just stands there as something akin to stage fright takes a hold of him and he bites the corner of his lip as he fidgets with your film in his hand. Right, film. He knows film, he can do this. "Do you have another canister you wanna develop?" He asks as he goes over to inspect the strips that're laying on the counter.

"That's it." You timidly admit.

He looks at the film and it doesn't look promising and a small pit forms in his stomach at it. "We'll try and make this work, they might not come out perfect but..." He shrugs. "Who needs perfect?" He tries to smooth over.

"At this point I'll take anything." You admit and he nods. "Plus I can always go the pained art kid way and just call it my style and tell anyone who questions it that they simply don't have an artistic gaze." You jokingly pitch.

It earns you a breathy chuckle and he nods. "Pretentious route. Should work." He agrees. "Since it's only two strips I'm going to put it in with mine." He explained going back over to his supplies. "Also...uh...did you have a hard time with the cassette opener?" He asks as he grabs it.

"No I didn't." You say which confuses him as he glances over at your mangled canister. "Cause I didn't use it so can't have a problem with it if I didn't use it." You try to cover your embarrassment with a joke.

He doesn't laugh but he nods and luckily doesn't look too horrified. Jonathan is used to working close to his body, keeping himself tiny and out of sight so he has to remind himself to not come in on himself so you can actually see what he's doing so next time you don't have to gnaw your canister open. It's a pretty simple, you hook it on and then pop it off. "Huh." Makes it way out of you cause good God was that ever easier than going at with the now ruined pair of scissors you'd hidden away.

"Easy, you'll get the hang of it in no time." He encourages to try and keep your spirits up and that sweetness isn't lost on you, it makes you blush and you find yourself very thankful to be in an entirely red room. He looks around and you can see the confusion in his features. "Did you see the scissors?"

Oh fuck. Now your face is really red, probably as red as this room. "They died." You settled on and his confusion furthers as his mouth opens to ask a question but he's at a loss for words. "Sacrificed, honourable death really." You joke uncomfortable as you gesture to your canister.

He holds back another laugh by biting the inside of his cheek and nodding and while he thinks he's sparing you embarrassment you're left worried you've annoyed him, you can't tell if his sharp exhale is one of amusement or a sigh. It doesn't get much clearer to you as he moves past you to grab a spare pair that he knows is in the drawer and he once again finds himself going onto auto-pilot as he pulls out his film and cuts it free from the cassette and begins to load it into a reel. "What're you doing now?"

Your voice comes out tiny and shy, you don't want to over step but you do want to learn. "Right, sorry." Comes out of Jonathan just as shy, it's all second nature to him now so he forgets that it isn't like that for everyone. "This is a reel, you find the slit and put the film into it and twist to get it all in there." He explains gesturing as he goes.

"Maybe I could try to do that? Help out instead of just standing around?" You pitch. You really do wanna learn and you do want to let him know that you're not a disaster of a human being.

"Y-yeah, sure, of course." He nods offering it out to you and you gently take it, worried of possibly messing up or breaking anything else. "Just back and forth." He says and you do what he says and sure enough the film continues to wind into it and you feel ecstatic that something it finally going right! You can't help but to look at him excitedly and your excitement is contagious even to someone as boxed up as Jonathan can be. "You're a natural."

You know it's just a joke but it doesn't stop butterflies from fluttering around your chest. "I'm also a natural at the triangle too if you can believe that." You say jokingly confident.

It earns you a grin. "Multitalented." He agreed with a breathy chuckle. And the way your tongue peaks out between your teeth in glee sends the butterflies from your chest straight into his and he's overwhelmed with the need to make himself busy but in the same moment he knows he can't come in on himself cause he's trying to teach you something. The confliction leads to some jerky movements as he grabs the film tank. "Now that you're done with winding, you place it in this." He forced himself to explain even though his throat felt tight.

"Shouldn't I wind up my film with yours?" It almost sounds like a euphemism.

"Because it's already in strips we're gonna place it on the outside of the reel." He explained placing your strips into it to show what he meant. "Go ahead, place it right there"

Easy for him to say. You look at the reel in your hand and then at what he's holding and you pray that you can get this right. There's a hole in the middle of the reel and that's got a pole so you gingerly place it there and watch his face as you do and he nods a little when he spots your apprehension. Finally, something in photography that made sense. When you move your hands away he closes it up with a top. "I already mixed it but this is developer, it's just that bottle and some water...the standard is a fifty fifty mix." He gestures as he explains which is helpful. "You generally want it around this temperature, it's okay if it's a little hotter." He shrugs.

You step closer to him so you can place your hands to the jar the concoction is in to try and understand what temperature he's talking about and he can't help but to stare when you get close. Taking in your features, the angle of your nose, the shape of your eyes, the corners of your mouth but more importantly the way you emote. Jonathan likes to capture people in a moment, a moment where they are themselves without pretending, he likes to capture the way they express and he can't help but to think you'd be a good subject to photograph. If it wouldn't ruin all the film in this room he'd be tempted to try and get a photo of you developing your first photo because everything about your actions is so authentic, it's honest. "Got it, like the temperature of water that's been out all night." You decide.

He lets out an amused and startled breath as he's taken out from his thoughts and nods a little. "Yeah, sure." He settles on quickly. "You generally never want it to get warmer than body temperature." He sums up. "And uh--yeah you fill the container and then pop the lid on." He explains moving back from your hold and doing so, popping on the lid. "And then you shake it for 30 seconds every minute or so for a couple minutes."

And for a very awkward minute the only sound in the room in the sloshing sound of the mixture in the film tank. Nerves eat at you both as you both scramble for something to talk about but every idea that comes to mind seems to have trouble leaving your mouth. "So what kind of stuff do you take pictures--?" "--What got you into film instead of polaroi--?" Leaves your mouth and his at the same time.

It's enough to cut the tension and make you both laugh and he gestures forward with his hand towards you for you to go first. "An accident. My polaroid finally gave out after years of abuse and my mom doesn't really know a whole lot about the difference between cameras so she just bought me what she was told was really good so...now I'm into film instead." You sum up gesturing as you talk so your nerves have somewhere else to go besides your brain.

He nods along as you talk, eyes darting from you to the film tank and he sees you copy his previous gesture to let him know it's his turn to answer your question. "I uh--" God, how does he not make this sound off putting to a nice new person? "Live study." That's a word for it, sure.

"Like animals?"

He sighs a little, guess that's also a word for photographing animals. "People."

"Like portraits." You say with some confidence at your correct verbiage.

"Not really." He admits looking at the film tank. "I um--I don't really do stagnant or stoic kind of pictures of people. I like to capture a moment or an emotion."

He's thankful he's got the tank to shake to keep his hands busy, it gives him something to fidget with to work out his nerves. "That's really cool." And it's a little startling to see him suddenly entirely stop fidgeting and staring at the floor to look at you but he's been really nice to you so you offer him the same smile he's been giving you to reassure you throughout this process. "I take photos of like still life so I know what I'm capturing all the time, it's fixed in place and I can mess around with it but you see something and capture it in it's own organic and beautiful way and that's really cool." He's given you a lot of comfort and confidence throughout this whole film ordeal so you want to offer that back.

Your offer is incredibly accepted as unbeknownst to you Jonathan's face turns red at the praise and he's left speechless in the nicest way possible, all he can do is smile. He thinks about brushing off all the compliments but every time he opens his mouth too a breathless flustered chuckle comes out. "Thanks." He settles on.

It's pretty cute to watch unfold and you have to hold back you own laugher as his bashfulness. "It also takes a lot of talent to do, I tried to capture my mom laughing and it just looked like a demon was being exorcised." You laugh.

He does too. "That happens." He chuckles out as he nods.

As the laughter dies down the room is once again quiet but not so uncomfortably. "Is there anything I can do to help?" You offer.

"Uh, sure, here." He says offering you the film tank which you take. "I'll get the stop bath, fixer and bath ready." He says as he grabs a few things from the shelves. Oh that seems like a lot of things. You nervously shake the film tank and try to get your brain focused off the cute boy and onto taking in what he's going to tell you. "You can go ahead and drain out the film tank into the sink." He tells you.

You cautiously make your way over to the sink and fiddle with the cap you'd seen him put on but you're apprehensive to take it off because if that's wrong you could ruin not just your film but more importantly his film. You look over at him unsure. "Take the cap off?" You check. Better to sound potentially stupid than to be a potential saboteur.

He nods at you and you're reassured enough to take it off and carefully pour the liquid down the sink. "Great, hold it up." He instructs and you do what he says, he comes over and pours something into it and he's getting a little better at remembering you don't know as much as he does. "This is a stop bath, sounds like what it is. Stops the film from over developing."

You nod along, that does make sense cause you've gotta stop something at some point. "Right." You agree easily to let him know you're listening.

He puts the cap back on. "You just give it a shake and then dump it."

"That fast?" You ask as you shake and he nods.

"The developing solution is the longest part. Everything else is pretty quick." He says as he gestures towards the sink.

You take the que and dump out that mixture with a little more confidence than the first time and turn back towards him to wait for more instructions cause so far it feels like you've got a handle of what's going on so you're ready for what's next, it's exciting! Just like before your excitement is contagious and Jonathan catches himself once again staring at you and smiling. "What's next?" You ask.

"Fixer." He says as he focuses back on the task at hand. He grabs the chemical solution and pours it into the top of the film tank in your hands. "It stabilizes the film so you can expose it to light without ruining it." He sums up, he doesn't want to overwhelm you with information and he doesn't want to chance talking too much and making a fool out of himself.

"And lemme guess...I shake it?" You ask as he pops the cap back on.

"Like I said, a natural." He jokes.

You smile as you start to shake it. "Another pump and dump?" You joke. A bark of a laugh makes it way out of him before he covers his mouth but it doesn't do much to stop his snickering. The tip of your tongue finds it's way out between your teeth as you beam with glee. "Or wine and dine?"

"Somewhere in the middle, 3 minutes." He says around his hand.

"Oh okay, so like a movie date." You continue to joke.

"Sure." He gives in with a chuckle, letting his hand fall and nodding along. "So, while you movie date the film tank I'm gonna make a the final bath." He tells you.

"Sounds like a horror film. The final bath, coming this summer." You say in your best announcer voice.

It's so dorky, it's so stupid but he lets out a small laugh and shakes his head as he prepares the bath and as he gets into his rhythm he mentally reminds himself to explain what he's doing. "This is going to help our film dry." He explains.

And he's lost you. "The-..." You pause looking at him filling up a plastic container and nothing gets clearer. "The wet solution is going to dry the film?" That wasn't a joke but it sounds like one.

He knows it does sound a little odd but he nods at you. "It's a little complicated but the easiest way to explain it is it goes on and then once it dries it helps with no water streaks or droplets." He tries to simplify.

You'll just remember the step, even if you don't fully understand why it's there you'll just remember to do it. "Got it." You lie.

The look on your face gives you away but he nods anyway. "Go ahead and..." He pauses shaking his head a little as an amused breath comes out. "Dump the liquid." You laugh a little and do as he says. "Open the film tank, we're gonna rinse the film in cold water."

You remember how he closed it so you're hoping it opens the same way and thank God it does. No more gnawing open film equipment for you. "I can touch it without ruining it?" You check before putting your hand into anything.

"Yours are gonna need some extra care since they aren't in the reel but I can get those and you can just run the cold water through the reel." He says coming over.

He's careful to not touch the actual photographs and just the edges of your film as he takes them and heads over to a sink to rinse them off. It's not too hard for him to do and he's curious as to what still life you capture and he thinks it's nice. It's tiny and a little degraded but what he can make out he likes, he never really takes the time to stop and look around at mushrooms or trees. There's just something about that that resonates around his chest, something about finding the little moments in simple things that endears you to him even more. He finishes up with your film and places it in the wet bath solution and all his movement goes unnoticed by you because you're so focused on just doing your best to rinse his film, you want to do such a good job that you're zeroed in on it and nothing else. That is until he gently taps your shoulder, that startles you out of zoned in focus. "Hey." He gently says. "You did great." He can't possibly know that but he wants to make up for startling you. "Shake out the water and put it into the bath." You've gotten pretty good at shaking this film by now, you do that and then as gently as you can place it into the bath where your film also is. "Usually there's more baths already set up but sometimes people are just forgetful and don't refill once they empty." He lets you know with a sigh and roll of his eyes.

"Right, dark room courtesy, I'll have to learn that too." You make a mental note.

"It's not too complicated." He tells you and you know he's trying to be nice but just the idea of someone else in the room makes your stomach churn, what if it was someone who wasn't nearly as nice? "Plus I'm in here all the time so I've got your back." He tells you ducking his head a little to try and catch your eyes that were unsurely staring at the floor. It works cause that really is a reassuring comfort that he'll likely be here the next time you are. "Okay?" He asks softly with a nod.

And just like that the churning in your stomach turns to butterflies. "Okay." You agree with a nod and smile.

He smiles back, he's just as thrilled as you are to have a friend in the dark room and he once again finds himself staring and he knows he's going to have to do something about that before that becomes a habit. The only thing he can do right now to break his gaze is work on film. Right the film he nods to himself, he turns to the plastic container and takes out the reel. "Last step, take it out, cut it up and hang it to dry." He explains as he makes sure to hold the reel away from his body so you can see how to open it.

"Well, looks like I'm ahead of you in that department." You joke as you grab your cut up film.

He chuckles a little and nods. "Look at you go." He jokes back.

You go over and you can see from looking around that the film is clipped from the top and bottom with clothes pins so you give it your best guess and follow suit. By the time you finish Jonathan is already hanging up his film and you can't help but to notice just how much faster he is at it. "So after this we can enlarge them?"

"Yeah, once they dry then we can enlarge them." He nods as he works.

"Rad, how long does it take to dry?" You ask enthused to finally get to why you came here in the first place.

"8 to 12 hours."

"Oh." You sigh with a nod but you try to stop yourself from getting into a funk over it. "I'll see you tomorrow then right?" You ask.

If you see him tomorrow it wouldn't be so bad, it'd actually be great to see him two days in a row, like having a little ray of sunlight in your school day. Jonathan is more thankful than ever that he's got something to do with his hands because he's ecstatic and that really shows when he's got nothing to fidget with. "For sure." He gets out with a nod. The bell rings to sound that lunch is over but you decide to stick behind with him. "Don't you have to get to class?" He asks.

"I'm new, I've got the excuse of getting lost." You shrug with a smile. "Plus you can use the excuse of helping the new kid too so no rush." You add.

He lets out an amused breath and nods. Even with the excuse in pocket he's still quick to finish up and you follow his lead by quickly ducking out of the dark room. "See you tomorrow." He says looking at you and taking a step backwards towards his next class.

"See you tomorrow..." And you realize. "I never got your name." You muse.

He's also hit with the same realization. "Oh, right, uh, Jonathan." He says gesturing to himself.

"Y/N." You let him know. He nods silently repeating the name to himself. "See you tomorrow Jonathan." You say again with a small laugh.

"See you tomorrow Y/N."

Guess who's finished Stranger Things?

It's me.

So gimmie your requests.

Hey, so I've had this in my drafts for like a year and I do like what I've got so far and I wanna share it. So, I figured I'd put what I've got here as like a part 1 and if it gets a good reception I'll finish it up in a part 2.

So tumblr ate an ask that I got a long time ago however I did start the prompt so here it is The request was about Hannibal talking the reader out being glued to their phone/fucking the reader out of being glued to their phone. It was a bit on an odd prompt but I actually have some weird phone insecurities so I kind of based this on my own weirdness with phone calls. I'm one of those people that literally has to pick up the phone even if I don't know the number so shout out to all my homies out there who are cursed with anxiety over missing a phone call ❤ ---

Pronouns: Female, she/her. Warnings: inching towards NSFW, some kissing, naked but not heavily described, some Hannibal manipulation. Word Count: 1,229 ---

“I thought we agreed on no bed time psychology.” Whines out from your throat.

“It's not psychology, merely a remark.” Hannibal punctuates his statement with a kiss to the back of your neck soothing the anxiety that already threatens to build at the mention of your phone.

You know it's a problem and you know that he knows that you know it's a problem and that a remark is more than enough to remind you of said problem that lays a little more than an arms length away on the beside table. Not that you could reach for it right now, laying on your side playing small spoon to Hannibal he's got both of your hands softly enveloped in his own and you're little more than a soothed and content ragdoll as he maneuvers you around bringing one hand to his lips to kiss then wrapping yourself up with the other arm to bring your second hand up to press another warm kisses to your knuckles. “Didn't you say that last time when you were merely remarking on my body insecurities?” You more so state than question.

He smiles into the next kiss that he presses into the naked landscape of your shoulder. “I did and I have to say when you take my remarks to heart quite grandeur things come from it, don't you think?”

How were you supposed to argue with that? You were laying naked in bed with him, your mind far from any worry on how you looked but focused on how you felt instead thanks to Hannibal and truly you did feel wonderful pressed up against him and being slowly lavished in kisses. “Well, yes.” You tentatively agree. “But...” You pause trying to find a way to argue but words die on your lips as Hannibal continues to press his own to the nape of your neck.

“Hmm? I didn't quite catch that.” He teases against your skin.

“That's not fair.” You point out in a breathless giggle.

“Should I stop and wait for you to try to get your point across?” He nearly chides but the criticism is softened by the exploration of his mouth.

“God, no.”

You hadn't meant for it to come out so rash but your body wasn't going to let your brain for a moment stop the languid luxury it's in. To say he's amused by your outburst is an understatement, you feel him chuckle into your neck. “So we're in agreeance then?”

“What exactly am I agreeing too?” You asked trying to concentrate.

You’re unsure if he's purposefully making it hard to concentrate. You're sure if you were able to concentrate you'd know if he was or wasn't but the methodical side of your brain is currently being kissed into surrender. “You're agreeing that my remark was not only warranted but in the past has proven to help you progress yourself in ways you've always wanted.” Brain kissed into surrender or not you could still certainly hear the prideful lilt in his voice even when muffled against your skin. You went to chide him as he'd done earlier to you but the first syllable didn't even make it's way off of your tongue as he slowly guided your twined hands down your own body. “You're agreeing that you trust me, not as your psychiatrist but as the person who lays with you at night, who wakes with you in the morning, as the person who cares for you and your needs singularly.”

It's times like these that remind you how hard it is to argue with Hannibal, just when you think you've got a point he makes a better one. How are you even supposed to try and say you don't agree? He's proven over and over again how much he cares, laying down his truth that he doesn't care much for your friends or their feelings but your wellbeing. You've never been put first like that, there was no denying his care and much to your frustration at times that he was right. Frustration be damned and quelled for the moment as his care begins to take a firmer hold of you as your twined hands tantalizingly dance around where your body aches for him most. There's light tension in his hold, he lets you move your hands closer but doesn't let his skilled fingers enter you instead they caress the nearest skin sending tiny shock waves up your spine. Even though your brain is slowly foggy over with want you can think clearly know to know exactly why he's not giving in, he's waiting for you to agree. You don't even have time to teeter on the idea of not agreeing as he uses your other twined hand to gently caress up your neck to your chin so he can turn your head to face him. He doesn't say anything, his patient expression gives little away but his quirked eyebrow confirms your suspicions on why this has yet to go anywhere. He practically coaxes the words from you as he skirts his thumb across your bottom lip and you're ready, God you're so ready to just tell him that he's right so you don't have to wait another agonizing second but fate seems to have other plans as the silence in the room is shattered by your ring tone.

The saying 'deer caught in the headlights' had never rung so true. Your hands twitched in the direction of the phone and you're sure would have gone further if they weren't currently twined with Hannibal's, he's not holding you back but he hasn't moved his hands away from yours to make it easier either. You know it's probably not important, it's certainly not more important than this moment...or at least likely not as important...but what if it is? Each ring frays your nerves, what if it was the hospital? You're an emergency contact, a friend could be dying. "I'm just gonna see who it is." You reason out loud.

It's reasonable but you quickly turn your head to stop yourself from seeing Hannibal's judgmental face but his cold stare can still be felt. You moved your twined hands from his and inch further from him to grab your phone from the table to check and as if you couldn't get any more undecisive the word 'Unknown' is splashed across the screen. It could just be a spam call or even a wrong number, that's probably what it was. But it could also be a kidnapper who has your friend and if you don't pick up it could be your fault that your friend is now dead. God, that's so irrational...but is it? People are murdered all the time, it's practically on the news every day! Warm hands bring you back from your panic in a way that almost makes you gasp. Skilled hands rub your lower back and warm breath calms the goosebumps you didn't know had formed only to break out all over again as kisses are laid over your spine and you can feel yourself practically melt back into his embrace. The ringing in your hand stops you from fully submerging yourself into the moment and you know the solution, you know you should just put the phone down but your fingers refuse to uncurl from around the device.

So I just finished The Mandalorian and look. I've got a problem with space dads. First it was Malcolm Reynolds and now I've been smacked in the face by Din Djarin. So how do I cope? Well I write about a morning coffee with him. As any perfectly sane person would. --- In synopsis Morning Coffee is a simple concept, it follows your morning to the start of your cup to the end of it. Hope you enjoy! ---

Pronouns: Unmentioned however I am a woman so may lean more towards Female!Reader Warnings: Fluff and of course my awful humour. Also in case you don't know what a Moka Pot is. Word Count: 1,834 ---

Din had gotten used to you over the time you'd been travelling together, and just in general having someone else on the Crest. Or at least he thought he'd gotten used to you. Waking up to a loud whirring noise he practically jumped out of his bunk to see what part of his ship was making that noise only to end up nearly barreling into you. The source of the noise. "What are you doing?" He asks.

"Coffee?"

You raise your spice blender and it was all the explanation he needed. You were grinding down the coffee beans you'd gotten on Nevarro. "Do you have to do that now?" He sighs.

"Well, typically people have coffee when they wake up. So yes." You answer back in the same condescending tone.

Even through the helmet you could feel his annoyed stare not that it bothered you much anymore, you get used to the glaring after awhile. "You know the kid--" He starts, gesturing over to his bunk.

"Is up with me." You finish.

You gesture over to the kid sitting and eating some of the eggs you'd bought at port. "How long have you been up?" He asks as his arm falls to his side.

"I've been up just long enough to start making coffee." You punctuated your statement by starting the spice blender again. "He's been up long enough to rummage through my bag and find food." You speak loudly over the whirring. The noise drowned out his sigh, the kid was always getting into things he wasn't supposed too. "Luckily didn't get to the beans, last thing he needs is caffeine" You let him know.

The kid on caffeine was certainly funny to picture but would prove catastrophic in practice. "Mmm." He hums in agreement,

Not that you could hear that, but you saw his small head nod. "Did you fix the burner?" Did resting bitch face apply to helmets? Was it possible to have resting bitch helmet? "Do you want me to fill this ship with gas waiting for it to catch or do you just want to answer?" You ask arching a brow to mock threaten him.

He sighs and goes over to the burner, he's been meaning to fix it it just hasn't been the highest priority. He pulls it the small burner down from it's storage in the wall and it slides into place with a loud squeak that competes with the loud sound of your grinding, it's been a while since he's even looked at it since it stopped working. He gets down onto the ground to take a look at the wiring underneath the component and you'd think he wouldn't be able to see you because of his helmet and his position on the floor but he does see you. He see's how amused you look and if you were anyone else he'd tell you to get lost but you're not anyone else, much to his emotional dismay sometimes.

As the grinding noise comes to a halt and you make yourself busy filling a moka pot he's reminded why this burner hasn't been used in so long, it needs new wiring. Wiring he doesn't have, he sighs as he gets up. "So?" You ask smiling at him.

He can't stomach to tell your dopey sleepy smile no so he just shakes his head but the fall of your dimples still sends a painful pang into his stomach. "I'll just use a fire starter, I think I still have one from that little fishing town on Trask's Moon." You nod to yourself as you talk.

You go over to your bag and the kid is instantly interested in what you're doing after all in his mind you could be getting more food! "You want to start a fire in my ship?" Din asks less than thrilled.

You rummage through your bag until you find the small fuel tab, it's clearly not food but none the less the kid reaches his hands up for it. "Actually." You start as you go over to the burner and place it in the middle. "I don't have a lighter so I want you to start a fire in your ship."

Unbelievable would be a good for to describe you he decides. At any point in time you're unbelievable. You make unbelievable decisions, you have unbelievable nerve, you have an unbelievably good smile, you're unbelievably hopeful, you're just unbelievable. How did he end up with someone so unbelievable? He's with the two most unbelievable beings in the universe, he has to be, he's sure of that much. A green kid who has telekinesis and you, he's not sure who's more unbelievable but he gets his answer as he feels you touch his arm which he immediately pulls away from you. "Don't even think about it." He says firmly.

"Well someone has to think about it, you're clearly moon blinked so let me press the button." You say as if it's nothing, it's a weapon of the Mandalorian for crying out loud. "Come on, I've seen you do it like a dozen times now it's just that little button there. I'll just press it for a second, it'll be fine." You say as if that's somehow supposed to make it fine.

"You're not Mandalorian, it's not a play thing." He tells you firmly

"Okay, fine, you do it." You gesture at the small fuel tab. "Kill joy." You add.

Unbelievable indeed. What is believable is that fact he knows you won't stop pestering him until that fuel tab somehow gets lit. "Grab the kid, I don't want him wandering near." He orders in a sigh.

"He does love fire." You mutter in agreement.

You go over and the kid is more than happy to be picked up by you, his arms outstretched and a gurgle of joy comes out of him as you pick him up and lean him against your chest. It never fails to make Din's heart squeeze when he see's you two together not that he'd ever whisper a word about how it made him feel, he barely even whispered it to himself. You handle the kid more like a baby than he does, you gently bounce on the balls on your feet and sway from side to side which he wouldn't be caught dead doing but he can't deny that the kid clearly loves it. You both look over at him and he immediately turns his attention to the burner, the feeling of being caught like a child with their hand in the cookie jar makes his cheeks tint with red. Thank the stars for this helmet some days.

Maybe it was from being startled by being caught or maybe it was just the effect you had on his logic but he takes aim at the small fuel tab and gives the tiniest press to his flamethrower and with the tini tiniest flame the fuel tab is lit. "And to think you didn't like my idea." You joke.

He scoffs and shakes his head but you know behind that helmet he's got to be smiling, even if it's just a little bit. You grab the moka pot and set it down on the burner and smile, soon you'll have coffee and it feels like it's been ages since you've had any. "Do you take sugar?" You ask as you go over to your bag.

"No."

"Is that apart of the creed too? To suffer awful black coffee? Like some sort of torturous training?" You laugh.

He doesn't give you an answer but you assume if he did it'd be a yes. You rummage out two cups and the small bag of sugar you have from your backpack and it'd always fascinate Din what you could manage to pull out of that bag, it seemed like you impossibly had so much in that one backpack. One thing becomes incredibly clear, the kid has seen sugar before and reaches to take it from the hand you're not holding him with. Big problem though, you can't really hold anything out of reach of someone with telekinesis. He closes his eyes and you immediately feel a tug at everything between your clasped fingers. "Don't!" Din says as soon as he sees what the kid is playing at.

But his warning goes unheeded. Between the tug from the kid and your grip as you try to keep the sugar out of his reach the bag breaks and sugar goes flying. He's thrilled and lets out a squeal of glee but you? Well Din can't exactly tell. Your mouth is agape in disbelief and your eyebrows are brought together but only a little. But after a moment you laugh and the tenseness drops from the room and he even lets out a tiny chuckle. "This is what I get for mocking you." You concede in a laugh. Another breathy chuckle makes it's way out of him. "Can't say he's not sweet on me." You joke but this time you aren't rewarded with a laugh...that was a pretty bad pun you admit. "Sweet on you too."

"Don't."

But just as his warning went unheeded with the kid it goes unheeded with you and you shake out your arm in his direction and tiny pitter patters of sugar hitting Beskar throw you into a fit of laughter. Din's refusal to find any of this funny and stand stoically only makes you laugh harder. Your laughter is only drowned out by the sound of the moka pot whistling to let you know it's done. This morning was too noisy Din decided, not that he could or would do anything to change that but none the less it was just so noisy. You get control of your laughter as you set the cups down and grab the moka pot. As you pour the kid sniffs and the caffeinated liquid and for once finds something digestible repulsive, you thank the stars as he lets out a whine of discontent. With some confidence that these coffee's won't be pulled out of your hands you set him down and with your free hand offer a cup out to Din. "Thank you." He says to spite all your shenanigans he's still got manners.

You smile and nod as you grab your own cup to enjoy, you go to look over at him only to see him making his way up to the cockpit. "Oh come on, enjoy coffee with me! I won't peak!" You call after him.

You're left unanswered as he climbs the latter. You take a sip of coffee and sigh at the bitter taste but you suppose bitter things are growing on you. "Guess it's just you and me kid." You say as look down at him, only to see the kid licking the sugar off the floor.

Glad you liked it! Always happy to help distract from the Hells Niagara Falls cause God, fuck periods.

I'm so thrilled that you loved the fic! Thank you! I also love the Avengers so I get picking them lol. Yeah, the X-Men movies might be a mess but Xavier and Erik are always the best part to me for the newer films and it always makes me fall in love with them all over again. Who doesn't love Michael Fassbender? So you mentioned you watched the movies, admittedly this fic doesn't really adhere to that time line because I thought it would be more fun to have more mutants in it but I didn't want to just start naming people from the comic that people may not be familiar with and would take people out of the story so this takes place in the school. Erik is there. Whatever, fic logic doesn't have to be perfect just has to be a good read lol. This also didn't come out super angsty as every time I try to write angst with Erik it turns into a big dark pit of angst with no light at the end and I thought that might be a little much. So instead have my shitty humour, if you don't like the fic that's totally understandable, no hard feelings. If you'd like a big black pit of angst with Erik let me know and I'll write that sometime lol Either way hope this helps distract you from your period pain! Hope you also have a wonderful day.

Here's the link to the fic!

Pronouns: Unmentioned however multiple mentions of having a uterus and having a period.

Warnings: Mention of period, period pains, little bit of fluff, me thinking I'm funny. Brief mention of alcohol, very small mention of Space Cookies which if you don't know is 60-80's slang for edibles. Also Space cookies is the cutest fuckin' name.

Also this doesn't line up with the canon timeline, Erik's in the school mansion. But honestly X-Mens timeline doesn't line up with its own timeline so deal with it.

Word Count: 2,140

---

Why couldn't your mutation be to not have periods? You'd give up what you had if you could even just control the cramps. But here you were, miserable, tired, and in too much pain. Mutants were supposed to be advanced, the next step in evolution and if this is what evolution had in store for you evolution could go fuck itself. Someone had to be able to fix this, for Gods sake there are mutants here with telepathy, mind-reading abilities, everything under the sun someone had to be able to ease this pain.

So on a mission you made your way out of your room much to your uterus's anger, it shot painful cramps at you telling you to get back into bed but to Hell with that. "Hank." You mutter to yourself.

Surely, Hank would have some kind of medicine for you or could whip up something. You head over to the stairs and decide no, no that is not the kind of torture you're willing to sign up for. Charles elevator it is, you're not one of his students and he can't give you detention for using it. You may not be a student but riding down in his elevator does give you childlike glee though it seems your period notices your split moment of joy and strikes it down with a gut wrenching cramp. Right, Hank, gotta find Hank. You walk down to his work room, giving small waves to the students who pass you in the halls, a tight polite smile aimed at them since it really isn't their fault you're in a fowl mood. "Hey, Y/N...you alright?" Bobby asked.

You nod and wave him off as you continued to walk. "Bobby wait." You realize, an idea striking you. "I need you." You let him know.

A look of confusion passes his features. "Uh-okay, is it quick? I need to get to class." He asked.

"I'll write you a note." You brush off.

"You can write me excuse notes?" He checks.

"I can do whatever I want." You say.

Earning a laugh from him. "Cool, what's up?" He asks.

"Can you make me cold without killing me?" You checked but at this point death didn't seem like the worst possible scenario.

"Yeah..." Bobby said a little confused as to where this was going.

"Great." You grabbed his hand. "Freeze Hell over." You place his hand to your aching gut.

"What?" Maybe going to math class would be more simple than this he thinks.

"Right, not funny." You sigh. "Make me cold, please." You settle on.

"Is this a test?" He asked confused.

"My will to live is testing me." You sigh.

You can still see the clear confusion but none the less you start to feel cold and sweet relief, you don't care if he's frozen your insides, this is worth it. "Better?" He checked, not exactly sure what he was checking.

"Yes, and I'm gonna bully Charles into giving you an A, thank you." You tell him as you let go of his hand.

It drops to his side and he nods with a small smile "Sick." He settles on with a nod. "Don't tell Rogue." He realizes.

"She'll understand more than you will." You assure him which only leads to more confusion on his end. "Get to class." You tell him.

"Alright, see you around." He shrugs and heads off.

You once again start yourself towards Hank except now you don't need to cling onto yourself in a feeble attempt to keep your uterus from throbbing. You arrive at his office and give a knock as you enter and you're greeted by...nothing? No he's always here. "Hank?" You call around the small room hoping he'd pop up from under a desk but no such luck. "Oh come on." You whine.

Where is he? He's always here, he practically lives in here and the one time you need him he's decided to get a life? Oh, fuck. And as if this didn't suck enough the numbness that was quelling your cramps was starting to fade. Okay, you're Hank, you're big and blue where would you go? To see Raven. You head out of the room as if you've got any idea as to where she would be, maybe Charles would know. So the other side of this God forsaken mansion. Great.

By the time you get there nothing about you is cold and numb only hot and throbbing. You don't bother to knock on the door, he's heard you coming as you've been cursing the entire way here as a warning. You open the door and at least this time you aren't greeted by no one but you're greeted by someone you weren't expecting. "Little early for training, are you alright?" Erik asked from his seat.

Oh, fantastic, fucking great, you look so terrible he thinks you've been training? Oh God! "Why are you here?" You ask.

"Good to see you too." He teases.

What else were you expecting? It's Erik. "Where's Hank?" You ask as your uterus is making it known it wants revenge for being put in the freezer.

"Not a clue. Don't exactly keep tabs." He says arching his brow at your question.

"Where's Raven?" You try.

"Getting married? Looking for something blue?"

If his smile wasn't so charming you'd wipe it off his face. "Where's Charles?" You finally ask.

That should've been your first question, Erik usually knows where Charles is at least. "Out with Moira." He answered with an unimpressed shrug.

"Ugh." You groan in frustration putting your arm back around yourself.

"Are you hurt?" He asks.

You're sure you would've found the concern sweet if it wasn't for the throbbing that was now making itself to your head to give you the start of a splitting headache. "I'm dying." You answer.

From a look over he can see you're not, and while he's gotten used to your flair for the dramatic this is even a bit much for you. "Well, dying in the doorway seems like an inconvenience, come sit." He pitches gesturing to the seat across from the one he's in. Smug asshole. But standing does suck at least sitting you can curl up to put more pressure on your stomach so you go over and sit, putting your feet up on the lip on the chair...at least it's a soft chair. "Care for a game of chess?" He offers.

"I'd rather die" You let him know with a shake of your head.

"I thought you were already dying." He points out.

You glare at him as your rebuttal, if only you knew how much he loves that. He likes you in general but he likes you even more when you're angry, he can't help but flirt with danger especially when it's as good looking as you are. You're too lost in concentrating on trying to keep your pain in check to notice his affectionate gaze but you do notice when he gets up. "If you grab the chess board I'm going to throw it at your head." You let him know.

He doesn't answer, he just walks over to Charles desk, opens the bottom drawer and comes over with a bottle of booze. "If I offer you a glass are you going to throw it?" He asked.

"I might out of spite to Charles, he didn't tell me about his desk booze." You complain.

He chuckles as he grabs two glasses. "He didn't tell me either." He lets you know and it makes you smile a little at his mischief. "I just know him." He says simply as he pours. "Just like I know you." He says looking right at you.

Stupid pretty blue eyes. "You know where my stash is too?" You joke earning a chuckle.

"Not yet." He smiles. "But I know you enough to know something is bothering you." He says sliding a glass over to you.

Oughta call him Sherlock Holmes, wonder what gave you away? Maybe being nearly doubled over in pain? The statement that you were dying? You keep your snide comments to yourself by having a sip, cringing a little at the taste. "Why does expensive booze always taste so bad?" You mutter into your glass.

Erik lets out a small chuckle at the fact even though you're clearly displeased you take another sip. "It's American, you can't expect much." He sums up having a sip himself.

"Snob." You teasingly prod.

"You don't like it either, what does that make you?" He mused.

That's what you get for trying to out snark the snarkiest of snarks. "I tell you I'm dying and you make fun of me?" You accuse

"I asked what was wrong, I got no answer." He points out sharply. It's not exactly something you want to declare, nor are you sure what comment would follow if you did. Probably some kind of snarky remark and you are two snarky remarks away from losing it since incredibly booze isn't exactly helping your headache. Words that would usually make you giggle and swoon you're sure right now would make you swing at him. "Perhaps you've gone mute."

Ah, there's the first snarky remark, you down the rest of your drink to deal with it. As you swallow and your gut squelches in a disgusting way you're striked with an idea. "You control iron." You point out.

"Next you'll tell me my name is Erik." He said taking a sip of own drink.

You go past his remark. "Great, force the iron in my blood somewhere else." You come up with.

His mouth opens but nothing comes out, he's eyebrows are brought together in pure confusion. It's not often that Erik is left with no words. He tries to give himself a moment to process your request by finishing off his drink but at the end of his swallow he's still got nothing. "What?" He finally asks.

"The iron in my blood. For the love of God just like from my gut area, move it somewhere else." You say.

It doesn't matter if it kills you, you just want for this agony to stop. Who need a uterus anyway? It's overrated. You hate it and it can't cramp if there's no blood to let it move. You move your legs to gesture to your hip area to give him a better idea of where you want the blood to leave from and as if your uterus was sentient and sensing its own demise it sends a painful cramp that makes you double over and hug your legs that had just hit the ground. It's quite a weird display for Erik to take in but he does take it in and the dots he needs to connect start to form. "I think you know I can't do that nor would I if I could." He lets you know.

"You suck." You grumble.

You glare at your sock covered feet in anger, stupid body, stupid uterus, stupid Erik. "Shame you feel that way." Erik says getting up. "Especially since I know where Charles space cookie stash is too."

It's almost comical the way your head pops up to look at him, he has to wrestle back his smile. "No." You gasp amused.

Charles has a space stash? That little stoner. "Shame you'll never find out unless you find it yourself." He taunts.

The smile he had been wrestling back finds its way to his face as he sees the look of desperation on yours. "Erik."

It's half desperate plea and half warning...or maybe 3/4 desperate plea and 1/4 warning if you're being honest. His smile broadens if only a little. "Agree to a chess game." Is his ultimatum.

"Fine, done, I'll play chess." You easily settle on. He gives a satisfied nod and heads over to the chess set. "Hey." You complain.

He grabs both sets and opens one to show the cookies. Of course, no one but him and Erik play chess so no one would ever find it in there. He offers you the box and you get yourself sat up properly and happily take it. Finally sweet relief. You take a bite and are rewarded with literal sweet relief, these are good. You look from your newly found stash and over at Erik to see him setting up the other chess set...? He means right now? Of course he means right now. "I'll make it fair, don't pout." He chastises as he grabs a cookie and pops it into his mouth.

He sets it up so you're the white pieces which means you go first. "Fuck." You mutter under your breath.

"Kinky, that'd be quite the first move to make." Erik says and he can't help but to delight at the blush that colours your face.

---

In synopsis Morning Coffee is a simple concept, it follows your morning to the start of your cup to the end of it. Or in this case the first sip. —

Pronouns: Unmentioned however I am a woman so may lean more towards Female!Reader and contains feminine words like cutesy. Warnings: Little bit of fluff. Some swear words. Me thinking I'm funny The Biggest Warning Of All. Word Count: 1,229 —

Fuck Charles. Fuck the way he decided to organize his kitchen. That dumb rich bitch, and you hope he hears that. You also hope he hears you asking where the fuck the kettle is and that you're not going to clean up the mess of pots and pans on the floor from you painstakingly searching for it. Kettles belong in one of two places either permanently on the stove or in the front of a cupboard but here you were, four entire cupboards in and no kettle in sight. You just want some coffee before the others get up, just a moment of peace and caffeination before you're bombarded with training, is that so much to ask? From the way Charles has hidden the kettle you suppose he thinks it is. Why doesn't he have more kettles? It's not like he can't afford more kettles! As frustration fueled by your non-caffeinated mind begins to be the only thing that's boiling you debate on just throwing all the pots and pans in these cupboards. "Redecorating?"

If you were holding anything it would've dropped as you jolted and looked up from your place on the floor and over to see Erik. His brow arched and face slightly amused as he surveys the scene around you. "Don't mock me this early in the morning, Erik." You complain.

Usually you don't mind his teasing, Hell it's usually enough to make you a red faced mess but right now? Sure, you'd be red faced but not in the same cutesy way. He stifles a chuckle and nods a little bit. "So, if you're not redecorating what are you doing?" He inquired.

You sigh and repeat the mantra you've been saying to yourself for the past hour. "I just want to make a coffee."

The whine in your voice is something he can't stifle his chuckle against and it earns him a disapproving glare that would scare Banshee straight but only endear you to him. "I can see you've got the coffee and filter ready, I'll get the kettle."

He stares straight at you as he opens his hand and you watch as the kettle floats out of the-- "The top cupboard?! What kind of psychopath puts a kettle up high?!"

Laughter isn't common from Erik and unheard of before noon but more than a chuckle works its way out of him at your angered cry. The amusement on his face doesn't leave as he fills the kettle, puts it on the stove and turns on the element all from the comfort of the doorframe he leans upon. "If that's what you say out loud I wonder what he's hearing from inside your head." He teases.

"Oh, I've cussed him out for the past hour." You unashamedly let him know.

He chuckles and nods. "Hopefully he can hear all the praises you're singing as well."

You scoff at him. "I didn't know you had a second mutation that stops your head from blowing up to the size of your ego." You remark.

"Ah, so you don't want any help cleaning this up." He remarked back in the same tone.

"Charles can clean this up for all I care." You let him and possibly Charles if he's listening know.

You get yourself to your feet and realize you may have to clean in order to get out of the pot and pan prison you've trapped yourself in. You really don't want to, you've spent too much time with these pots and pans so you look around for small places to put your foot so you may be able to skirt by but coordination this early in the morning? Not anyone's strong suit. The way you've stacked these pots and pans? It's like a landmine of noise ready to go off. Oh God, you just wanted to make a coffee not a booby trap.

Watching you continuously put your foot up and down as you desperately look for a way out is one of the funniest things Erik has seen in his entire life. It's only made funnier by the fact he knows you, he's seen you train and knows what you're capable of yet here you unable to face this seemingly unparalleled obstacle. If you were anyone else he'd likely make coffee and refuse to end this hilarious show but you're not anyone else, you're you so after a moment of soaking this up he moves the pots and pans enough to make an escape route for you. His mercy is rewarded with relieved sigh and smile from you. "Have I ever told you that you're my favourite?" You joke as you walk through your path to salvation.

"I could stand to hear it." He lets you know.

"You're my favourite...though you would be my all time favourite if you floated the sugar tin over here." You suggest gesturing over to the sugar tin that lays over the treacherous journey of pots and pans.

"I don't use sugar."

You should've known better than to try and tease him, he always teases you back. "No but maybe your favourite person does?" You pitch offering up a smile and raising your hands to frame your face.

He keeps his composure the only thing giving him away is his amused raised eyebrow. "Who would that be?"

He knows you're too shy to be that bold but there's always a part of him that hopes you'll take that bait. Even in your caffeine starved brain you don't have it in you to say the simple word 'me' but you continue to frame your face in hopes that'll be enough. It's not. Of course not, it could never be that simple. Erik ignores your gesture and walks over to the unravaged cupboards and takes out two cups and your hands drop defeatedly to your sides as the kettle floats over to steep the coffee.

Why do you even like someone so stubborn? Why do you like someone so set in their ways? Why do you like someone who's got such nice hair? Someone who looks way too good in the morning, someone who's eyes crinkle up in the corners when they smile, someone who's kindness while rare warms your heart, someone...

Lost in your someone's and early morning haze you don't know you've started staring and for a moment Erik thinks you might actually be upset with him but as he takes in your loosely knotted brow, slightly open mouth and glazed over stare he realizes you're not entirely conscious. He debates for a moment about giving you black coffee just to see your reaction but he decides against it, it seems your morning has been cruel enough. He floats the sugar tin over and adds too much sugar if you were to ask him to your cup before pouring in this mornings coffee.

Someone who's long slender fingers could-- "Coffee?" --could hand you a coffee.

"Mmm." You hum as you reach forward and take the warm cup from his hands.

You take a sip and are rewarded with sweet, sweet coffee...wait, actually sweet coffee. You pause as you take that in and look at him and he has a small smile playing on his lips as he takes a sip of his own coffee. You are his favourite person. "What happened to my kitchen?!"

Ah, there's his other favourite person.