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badasbebi · 2 days

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home is where the heart is ➛ ♡

✦ pairing: bada lee x fem!reader

✦ summary: new to seoul in search of revitalizing opportunities, you're excited to see what the city has in store for you. however, after numerous awkward encounters with your (hot) neighbor and other unfortunate circumstances, you start to doubt whether this move was right for you.

✦ genre/au: fluff, smut MDNI!!, neighbor!au, accidentally turned into a coffeeshop!au as well. maybe some slight angst?

✦ word count: 14k

✦ warnings: probably has grammatical/spelling errors. switch!bada and switch!reader?? sort of?? y/n has a toy collection that could probably contribute to the production of toy story 5.

✦ a/n: initially really liked this story. then, i sat on it for three days, and now I'm not really a fan of this? i also feel like i forgot to how to write? hope yall still enjoy though! i have a few ideas I'm rlly excited abt anyway <3

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The elevator lobby echoes with the shuffling of your feet and the thud of the cardboard box shifting within your grasp. Your new apartment complex seems to grow larger with each step, the space stretching endlessly as you aim for one of the metal doors. The box, marked “fragile,” presses into your arms, and beads of sweat drip down your forehead as you internally curse at yourself for your excessive overpacking and stubbornness.

You don’t know who or what made you believe you were capable of doing this move entirely by yourself, but you are now facing the consequences for past you's groundless self-confidence. As you take a step forward, your arms wobble under the strain, and the box slips precariously, threatening to escape your grasp. You tighten your grip, determined not to let the flimsy box defeat you. You were not going to let a box labeled fragile, of all things, be the reason for your demise. No way.

While attempting to steady yourself, you vaguely hear a loud ping reverberate throughout the lobby. Like the easily hyperfixated person you are, you pay no mind to it, focusing only on the task at hand. The last thing you need is to drop the box and have its contents shatter against the floor. You would never forgive yourself.

Just as you pause to readjust the box, the elevator door opens, and footsteps follow it. A tall, dark-haired woman with bangs stumbles into the opening, her phone in her hands. She stops in her tracks, clearly distracted, and you foolishly walk straight into her.

The box falls from your grasp, and as it plummets to the ground, you have an out-of-body experience. This was it. The box is going to hit the ground, and you will have lost this uphill battle. In slow motion, you watch the box tilt backward and forwards, suspended in midair for what seems like forever until, suddenly, you feel your hand wrap around it. As you blink away the stars clouding your vision, you register that you've saved the box from certain doom, just barely. A sigh of relief escapes your lips.

A triumphant smile graces your lips as you clutch the box tightly. It’s a bit more crumpled than before, but it is still very much in one piece (ignoring the fact that the fragile item inside the box was most definitely broken). Gravity was no match for your superior reflexes.

As you look up, your smile falters. Your eyes widen, and you feel heat rise to your cheeks. You just ran into the most beautiful woman you have ever seen, and she is staring at you. Her eyes, framed by thick-rimmed glasses, gaze at you, wide and unblinking. She looks at you as if you were the most embarrassing thing she has ever seen, and it takes all your willpower not to turn around and run back down the hall.

Her long, dyed black hair hangs in a braid down her shoulder. Her outfit consists of a plain, oversized black t-shirt, baggy pants, and a pair of worn nikes. The only pops of color are the bright yellow socks poking out from underneath the white shoes, and the streaks of blonde in her hair.

"Oh, my god, I am so sorry!" you finally manage, stumbling over your words. "I should've been paying attention to where I was going."

The woman seems to snap out of her daze with a vigorous shake of her head. "No, no, it's fine. Don't worry about it," she responds with a small laugh. Her voice is light and melodic, and the sound makes your heart skip a beat. She glances down at her phone, and a slight frown creases her forehead. "I wasn't watching where I was going either."

You give a small, awkward chuckle in response, but you feel your nerves ease a little. She didn't seem weirded out, thank the stars.

She glances down at the box, and her eyes widen as if she is just noticing its existence.

"Here, let me help you," she says as she effortlessly picks up and takes the box from your hands before you can even think to say no, a shiver running up your spine at the contact.

"You really don't have to," you protest weakly, making much of an effort to actually stop her.

"It's the least I can do after making you almost drop the box." She gives you a warm smile, and the butterflies in your stomach start dancing wildly.

"Thank you." You return the smile, feeling the corners of your mouth twitch.

She turns on her heel and gestures to the elevator doors. "Where are you headed?" she asks, pressing the up button with her elbow.

"Uh, floor 8," you answer. She nods, and when the elevator doors open, the two of you step inside.

The combination of the woman's vanilla-scented perfume and elevator music does little to soothe your anxiety. You stand side-by-side in awkward silence. You shift uncomfortably, feeling your cheeks burn. What do you even say to a person this gorgeous? You clear your throat and will the courage to speak. You are an adult. You can talk to people. You got this! Just be casual. Easy peasy. Just say words! Just. say. them.

"So, uh, is this your first time using the elevator?" You wince.

Maybe not those words.

"No, I usually use the stairs." She says with a giggle, seemingly unfazed by your pathetic attempt at conversation. "But, um, is this your first time here?"

You nod. "I just moved here today." You pause. "How did you know?"

"I just—haven't seen you here before," she says simply, looking you up and down with an expression you can't quite decipher. "I'm Bada, by the way."

"Bada," you repeat, testing out the name on your tongue. It sounds nice. You smile, and the tips of your ears grow hot. "I'm Y/N."

"Y/N." She returns your smile. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." Your fingers fidget with the hem of your shirt. Your eyes wander over to the numbers lit up on the panel, and your face pales when you see that the two of you are already on the eighth floor. The elevator slowly comes to a stop, and you swallow thickly. "Well, I guess this is my stop," you say as you step into the hallway.

"Did you want me to walk you to your apartment? This is actually the floor that I-" Bada starts, but a faint chime rings out before she can finish. She pulls her phone out, holding the box with one arm, and frowns at the screen.

"Ah, damn, I gotta go," she says. She looks back up at you and gives you a smile, although a little less bright. "I'm going to be late for a meeting. Do you think you can manage?"

You stare, momentarily perplexed by the kindness this random stranger is displaying towards you, but then you catch yourself, and smile.

You shake your head, waving a hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it, I've got it. I'm a big girl," you reassure her. "Thank you for helping me, though."

She hands the box over, and your fingers brush again, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm.

"Of course," she replies, smiling. "Anytime. It was nice meeting you."

"Yup."

You give each other a brief wave, and you watch the elevator doors slide shut.

As you stare at the spot she was once at, you feel a pang of disappointment in your chest. You wish you could have gotten to know her better, but there was always another day. You lived in the same building, after all. Maybe you'd run into her again.

You struggle with the box a bit more, and then you finally enter your apartment, the door clicking shut behind you.

The first thing you do is drop the box in the entryway and walk over to the nearest wall. You lean your back against it, sliding down until your butt hits the ground. You sit there for a moment, gazing out of the floor-to-ceiling window across the room, trying to process everything that just happened. And, well, everything else that's been happening in your life.

As the sun dips below the skyline, casting long shadows across the city, you find yourself finally having to wrestle with contrasting feelings of excitement over this fresh start, mingled with a weariness that's settled into your bones after a day of moving boxes and thinking of the uncertainty surrounding the days ahead of you.

Just a month ago, you made the spontaneous decision to move to chase your dreams in Seoul, a country an entire ocean away from where you're from. Now you are in a new city, a new apartment, a potential new job, and you have mixed feelings. You're excited about the possibilities but also scared of the loneliness you know is inevitable. It is a loneliness that is necessary, though. You’ve spent too long stuck, moping about your unfortunate circumstances in the same mundane city you grew up in. You were aching for something new. As terrified as you are, you know that it’ll eventually feel worth it. It has to.

In the meantime, your living space echoes with emptiness and awaits your touch. Exhausted but determined, you eventually drag yourself off the ground, the weight of the day catching up to you, but not stopping you.

You scan the space in front of you, surrounded by the remnants of your previous life, now neatly packed into cardboard containers. The living room, cluttered with boxes marked "pictures," "books," and "memories," feels too overwhelming, so you decide to tackle the kitchen first. Igniting your last reserves of energy, you unpack your pots and pans as your thoughts drifts to old routines. As the clock ticks away and you find new sacred spots for your favorite items, your exhaustion begins to fade as you infuse the space with pieces of yourself, fueled by the realization that this is your sanctuary that you could call your own.

By the time you empty your last box for the day, the apartment glows with your presence. It’s nowhere near finished, but you already feel as if your choices have been validated. You collapse onto your makeshift bed, and as you close your eyes, a smile plays on your lips.

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"I asked for three and three-quarter pumps of brown sugar. Is this really the best you can do?"

You stare at the cup sitting before you. Three and three-quarters, your ass. Who the hell was going to measure that? You glance up at the man before you. His face is contorted into a snarl as he glares at you, as if he expects an apology. It takes everything in you not to throw the steaming hot cup of coffee in his face.

"Sir, I'm sorry, but I believe that this is indeed three and one half—i mean—three quarter pumps," you lie, attempting to brush past your stumble in the calmest voice possible. You try to muster a professional smile, but it's a difficult feat.

"Bullshit. You clearly can't read a scale properly or hear. Just do it over, and make it right. Three and three QUARTERS," He huffs, shoving the cup in your direction.

Your fists clench behind the counter. "Yes, sir," you mutter through gritted teeth, your politeness hanging by a thread.

You dump his original drink in the trash and grab a fresh cup. The man watches as you add the pumps, one by one, ensuring that each one is added correctly. It is, and instead of being grateful that you did not put three and three-quarters of spit in his cup, he rolls his eyes, mumbling to himself about younger generations being too lazy to do their jobs right the first time. He takes the cup from you, without saying thank you, and struts off.

You sigh, shaking your head. You needed to get your blood pressure checked.

"You okay?" a voice asks.

You turn around, coming face to face with your coworker, Mijoo. She stands before you, leaning against the counter, a sympathetic smile on her face.

You groan, running a hand over your face. "I don't know how much longer I can take this. How have you worked here for this long?" you reply, your voice muffled by your hands.

Mijoo shrugs. "Honestly, you get used to it after a while. And on the rare occasion that you run into a genuinely nice customer, I promise they make up for the hundreds of shitty interactions."

Without moving your hands from your face, you state, “That doesn't make me feel any better."

Mijoo laughs, bright and bubbly, and pats your shoulder. "Don't worry, it'll get easier, I promise. You'll be desensitized in no time! Seriously, I feel nothing when people call me stupid, or an imbecile, or a bitch-"

You frown, dropping your hands. "Mijoo, that's awful."

Mijoo sighs and walks around the counter to wrap her arm around your shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Just don't stress about it, okay? You'll be fine. Plus, we've got each other!"

You return the gesture, wrapping an arm around her waist. "You're right."

Mijoo has been your rock throughout this whole process. She was the one who interviewed you for this crappy job, and she was the one who showed you the ropes inside and outside of the cafe you work at. In addition to showing you her go-to spot in the cafe for mental breakdowns, she's shown you her favorite spots in Seoul. If it weren't for her, you're sure you'd be a complete and utter wreck.

"What would I do without you?" you ask.

Mijoo chuckles, squeezing you tighter. "Probably have a lot more panic attacks," she replies, causing the two of you to erupt in laughter.

The alarm on your phone blares, signaling that it's time for you to go home. You and Mijoo share a dejected glance. You hated leaving her alone at the shop, but she always insisted that you go home before the rush. You had no choice but to agree.

"See you tomorrow," you tell her as you shrug on your jacket.

"Bright and early," she responds, throwing you a wave.

"Are you at least going home soon?"

She shakes her head. "Nah, I've got a few things I need to finish up, so I'll probably be here for a few more hours. I'll lock up."

You sigh. "Alright, but please text me when you get home."

She smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Will do. Now, go. Go home and get some sleep, you deserve it."

You make your way to the entrance, giving Mijoo one last glance. She waves to you, a big grin on her face. When you open the door and step out, the bell above you chimes.

As the crisp air hits your face, you can feel the tension drain from your body. A content smile graces your lips, and you can feel your mood instantly improving. Even though your job was stressful, there was nothing quite like coming home after a long shift.

The sun has already begun to set, and the streets are bustling. People pass by you, not paying attention as they make their way home. Some have earphones in, while others are on their phones. You watch as couples and groups of friends chat and laugh as they make their way to whatever destination they have in mind. You feel a small pang of loneliness in your chest.

Your apartment isn't too far from your work, so you reach your destination quickly despite the heaviness in your heart. You're exhausted, and all you want to do is go home, cook dinner, and crawl into bed.

You ride the elevator to your floor, and you're reminded of the time you ran into Bada months ago. Her name echoed through your head every time you heard this elevator music, which was every day. You haven't seen her since that day, which wasn't really a surprise. It was a big building.

When the doors open, you make a beeline to your door, fishing your keys out of your pocket. As soon as you unlock your door, you practically skip inside. You immediately slip off your shoes and toss your jacket and keys onto the counter. You let out a satisfied sigh as you plop down on the couch, closing your eyes. You stay like that for a few moments, listening to the quiet hum of the air conditioner. After a few minutes, you hear your phone ping. Yelping, you sit up and pull it out of your pocket, hoping it's the text you've been anticipating from a landlord. Disappointment settles in the pit of your stomach when you see it's just a spam email. Groaning, you drop the phone onto the couch next to you.

You sit there, wallowing in your misery and loneliness. The quiet hum of the AC does little to soothe your worries.

You miss your friends, but the distance has made it hard for them to keep up with you, and vice versa. They all had lives, and jobs, and families. But you didn't. All you had was an empty apartment. And you had Mijoo, but you felt terrible relying on her for everything.

As you’re ruminating on the pathetic reality of your social life, a loud bang comes from the wall behind you. You jump in shock and quickly turn to look at the source. You can barely make out a muffled, feminine voice, saying something that sounds like a curse. Seconds later, music starts playing through the walls. Loud, bass-heavy music. You sit up, your hand hovering over the plaster, feeling perplexed. You haven't heard anyone in the apartment next to you since you moved in. You just assumed you were neighborless. Maybe someone new moved in? You haven't seen anyone with boxes or anything all week, though, and there's no way someone just managed to move in within the last 8 hours.

A beat passes. You can feel the vibrations from the loud music rattling the walls. You frown, and walk over to the wall. You raise a hand and knock loudly, but it's useless. You sigh. There was no way you could relax with this noise.

You turn away from the wall, and pick your phone up in case you need to dial 119 during this confrontation. You make your way out into the hallway, slamming the door shut behind you and ignoring how your heart pounds in your ears. You walk to the door next to yours and, after a moment of hesitation, knock loudly. The music stops, and your heartbeat slows. The door remains closed, so you knock again, even harder this time.

After what feels like an eternity, the door finally swings open, revealing a woman you thought you'd never see again.

"Bada?" you question, bewildered.

"Hey," she replies, sounding equally surprised. She's wearing sweatpants and a black tank top, and her hair is in a messy ponytail. You can smell a faint hint of sweat. She's still gorgeous, though.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, trying to hide your shock.

She looks behind her, as if to verify that she's in the correct place, then turns back around. "This is my apartment," she states, slowly, as if she's speaking to a child requiring stabilization.

"Since when?"

She laughs at this, and your heart flutters. "Since I've lived here. Which is a long time, considering this is the second year."

"No, I mean," you pause, searching for the right words. "I haven't seen you around? I mean, you're right next door. There's no way I could've missed you."

Her lips form an 'o' shape, and she nods. "Ah, well, I travel a lot for work so I haven't been home much. I was out of the country for a while."

You nod, "Oh. That makes sense. Well, see ya!"

You turn on your heel and make your way back towards your apartment, embarrassment beginning to flood through your body, when Bada's voice stops you.

"Hey, wait."

You turn around, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

She looks amused. "Are you going to tell me why you came knocking? Or did you just want to see me?"

Your eyes widen and your cheeks burn. "What? No, I'm sorry, I-"

She interrupts you with a laugh. "Relax, I'm joking."

You nod, feeling relieved. You weren't sure why this woman made you feel so incompetent. "Well, it’s the music. It's really loud, and-"

"Oh, shit," she cuts in, her eyes widening. "I'm sorry, I forgot. I'm not used to having neighbors. It's been a while since someone lived next door."

"It's totally fine, it's just...a bit much."

"Gotcha," she replies.

You stare at each other for a few seconds, and you can feel yourself begin to sweat. You clear your throat. "Well, I should probably go now."

She nods, a slight frown on her face. "Okay. See you around."

"See ya," you reply, awkwardly, before walking away.

When you reach your door, you let out a deep breath As annoyed and embarrassed as you were, seeing her again was a bit of a pleasant surprise. She seemed even more beautiful now than she did in the elevator. Your mind wanders back to the sleeveless shirt she had on. The hair bun that gave you a clear view of her neck, her jawline, her collarbones.

You shake the thought from your head and walk into your apartment. You needed to put yourself out there, soon. It’s been too long since you’ve felt a woman’s touch, and now you can barely look at an attractive woman without spiraling into a frenzy.

You decide to go take a shower and call it an early night, hoping that a session with Rosalia 3000 will ease your mind.

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You stand behind the counter, boredly wiping down the surfaces. It's a slow day, and Mijoo is off, finally using her vacation days. The cafe is mostly empty, save for a few students studying in the corner. You've already cleaned the entire place twice today, and the clock hasn't even struck 4 o'clock yet. It was days like these that you hated most. As much as you disliked angry customers, having to stand behind the counter doing nothing all day was enough to make you want to claw your eyes out.

You sigh, and lean back against the counter. You check your phone, just in case you missed any messages you’ve been waiting for. When the screen loads, the familiar white background greets you, with no new notifications.

You lock the screen, and stuff the device into the pocket of your apron. You look around the cafe, hoping to find something to occupy your mind. Your eyes land on the display cases of cakes on the far end of the counter, and an idea pops into your head.

You grab a bag of flour, sugar, eggs, milk, and baking powder from the storage room. You mix the ingredients together, and add a few teaspoons of vanilla extract. After about ten minutes, the batter is ready, and you scoop some into a pastry bag. You start to pipe the dough into shapes, filling the space. The familiar motion relaxes you, and you can feel the stress slowly leaving your body. There were only a select few people in the cafe who were permitted to contribute to the array of treats your cafe housed. Unfortunately, you weren’t one of those people, leaving you little time to partake in your passion in between busy shifts and tiring days. You needed this.

Working quickly, you fill up the space within 30 minutes. After placing the cookies in the backoven, you start cleaning up the counter, throwing away any leftover bits of dough and tossing the used bowls and utensils into the sink. When you finish cleaning the area as best as you can, you turn back around, and your eyes widen as you realize you aren't alone.

Standing before you, his arms crossed, is the man with the ridiculous coffee order from a couple days ago. Yikes.

"Um," you begin, trying to keep your voice from wavering."Can I help you?"

"I’ve been standing here for two minutes,” he begins, and you can hear the aggravation in his voice. "Do you not know how to do your job?"

"I-"

"So you’re not just a terrible barista, you’re a terrible worker too,” he spits out.“There are barely any people in this cafe and you can’t keep up?”

You clench your jaw, trying to keep the anger bubbling up inside of you at bay. "Sir, I apologize for not noticing you sooner, but I’ll be happy to assist you now."

"Yeah, I’m sure. Where’s your manager?”

Your eye twitches. “He isn’t here right now. I can assure you I’ll be able to help you with anything you need."

"Well do you have a way to contact him? A phone number? Zoom?”

You shake your head. "Sorry, sir. Our manager prefers that we only contact him when he is away if there’s an emergency.”

He releases a maniacal laugh, then immediately straightens his face. “Is this not an emergency? How is this not an emergency when the service in this shop is so fucked that you don’t see a customer standing in plain sight for ten minutes?”

You blink. “I thought—never mind. Sir, again, I’m terribly sorry. If you’d like, I can give you this drink on the house and—"

He cuts you off. "I don't want a refund. I want better quality of service…”

He drones on, and at this point you tune him out. There was nothing you could do or say to satisfy him. Really, the irony of the situation just made you want to laugh. He was complaining about you wasting his time, and by doing so was wasting even more time. Did this man actually have a job other than being a menace to innocent baristas? Probably not. As you mindlessly watch the man flail his arms in exasperation, you hear the bell above the entrance ring. You’re about to glance over, when the man in front of you slams his palm on the counter, demanding your attention.

"I'm not done yet! I've spent the last fifty six minutes telling you everything you're doing wrong, and you've barely apologized. In fact—"

"I'm sorry, sir, but if you don’t calm down I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” You cut him off, your voice surprisingly steady.

"What?" His mouth hangs open.

You cross your arms. "You are disrupting the environment and harassing me.”

"Harassing?" He repeats, incredulously. "Are you fucking kidding me? Who the hell are you to tell me what to do? You don’t have the authority to kick me out.”

You roll your eyes. "I'm not kicking you out. You are free to stay and order anything you'd like. If, however, you choose to continue to cause a scene, I'll have no choice but to have you escorted off the premises."

His eyes narrow, and this time he crosses his arms. "Yeah? And who’s gonna escort me?”

Customer service thrown out the window, you open your mouth to call him a prickly little bitch, but are interrupted by the sudden appearance of a hooded figure walking up beside him.

"Leave her alone," a familiar voice states. You look over, and realize the individual you’re looking at is Bada, who towers over the man beside her.

The man scoffs, and looks her up and down. "Excuse me? Mind your own.”

"This is her cafe, and she has a right to kick you out if you're being disruptive."

"I'm not bothering anyone," the man retorts.

"Well, you’re bothering me. I’ve had to stand here and watch you squeal for the past few minutes and quite frankly it's starting to piss me off. If you don’t leave, I'll escort you out myself."

The man opens his mouth, presumably to spit some more venom, but the sight of Bada's clenched fists and murderous glare causes him to snap his mouth shut. He glares at the two of you for a moment, before turning on his heel and stalking off.

Both of you watch him leave. As the door closes behind him, you witness the door swing shut with surprising speed, smacking into Mr. Grumpington's rear end just as he reaches the threshold. Stumbling forward with a startled yelp, his briefcase flies out of his grasp, scattering papers across the sidewalk.

Your hand flings up, over your mouth as you observe him stand slowly, his knees wobbling. A woman and her child pass by him with bewildered expressions, and you repress your laughter. Once he gathers himself, he shoots a withering glare in the direction of the café, and storms off.

Old man finally gone, Bada turns back to you, her expression soft. "Sorry. I know I probably overstepped, but I saw the whole thing and I was worried he was going to hurt you.”

You sober up and shake your head, smiling slightly. "No, it's okay. He was being an asshole and I didn't know what to do with him. I'm glad you were here."

Bada returns your smile, and you're once again taken aback by her. “Anytime."

"I have cookies, if you'd like some," you offer, suddenly remembering the sweets baking in the oven. "On the house, for the trouble."

Bada's eyes light up. "I'd love some! And an iced latte, please.”

You nod. "Sure. Have a seat and I'll bring it out."

Bada takes a seat in a booth in the corner, and pulls out a laptop. As the coffee brews, you glance at her as she types and reads something on the screen, her expression concentrated. She purses her lips as as she focuses on whatever she’s looking at, and you find yourself staring.

She looks up, catching your eye. You blush, and spin around to face the display case, pretending to wipe it down. You grab the iced latte and a plate of cookies, and walk over to Bada.

"Thanks!" she says, smiling, and grabs a cookie. She takes a bite and hums in satisfaction.

"Good, right?" you question, a smile tugging at your lips.

"So good!" she affirms, her cheeks full of the pastry.

You break into a wide grin that you’re not sure is because of the woman’s cuteness, or the pride blooming in your chest. "Thanks. I made them."

She raises her eyebrows. "Wait, really? Woah. I'm impressed."

Playing nonchalant, you shrug. "It's whatever."

She laughs. "It's not whatever! These would sell out in seconds if you displayed them in here," she remarks, grabbing another one.

You're reminded of the call you're still waiting on, and try to dispel the anxiousness growing inside you. That’s the plan, just not here. You decide not to bring that up, though. You dont wanting to put a damper her spirits with your oversharing.

But you're not tired of hearing her praises. "You think?"

"Definitely,” she confirms. "I'll come by every day to buy a dozen.”

"I'll hold you to it."

"Please do," she responds, and you swear you detect a hint of flirtation in her voice. Before you can retort, a notification pops up on her computer, and her eyes dart down. She sighs.

"Everything alright?" you ask.

She nods, but her brows are furrowed. "Yeah. I'm just stressed. My job has been keeping me super busy lately."

You nod, and hesitate before asking, "If you don't mind me asking, what do you do?"

"Oh," she answers, her face clearing up. "I'm a dancer. And I choreograph for kpop groups."

Your eyes widen. "Whoa. That's cool."

"Thanks," she responds. She pauses for a moment, and she looks like she wants to say more. "It is, but...I don't know, sometimes these companies get on my nerves." She says with a tired laugh.

You're a bit surprised by her confession, and the dejected look on her face makes your heart hurt. "What do you mean?"

She shrugs. "They're never quite satisfied with what we do and it sucks, you know? The only time I have fun is when I'm working with a company that doesn't treat their artists like shit."

You frown. "Yeah, I can't even begin to imagine how frustrating that is. I'm sorry."

She smiles, looking sheepish. "No, I'm sorry for venting. It's been a long week."

You shake your head. "Don't apologize. You're saving me from having to clean the counter for the nth time today."

She smirks. "I thought the jerk from earlier was already doing that?"

"Oh god, please don't bring him up again." You groan, and she giggles in a way that makes your chest warm.

"Don't worry. He won't bother you anymore. I scared him away," she says, wiggling her eyebrows.

You laugh, and a comfortable silence falls between the two of you. You're about to ask her another question when you hear the bell on the door chime. You look over, and see a group of college students walking in. Your stomach drops.

"Guess it's time for me to actually do my job,” you mutter.

She nods. "What time do you get off? Maybe we could talk more after you're done? Walk home together?"

Walk home together? You should’ve put on a better perfume today. "Sure, but I'm gonna be here for another couple hours."

She slaps her hands together. “That’s actually perfect. I have a bunch of videos to review anyway. I'll be here." She gives you a small wave, and returns to her laptop. You walk away, unable to contain your grin.

And she is there. As the night drags on, as the rush comes in and finally calms, as the clock strikes 8, and as you close the doors.

You turn the keys, locking the door. You turn around, and she's there, waiting for you, laptop in hand. She kicks a rock and it skitters away, hitting a lamppost. When she notices you watching, she offers a shy smile.

"Ready to go?" she asks.

"Sure am," You respond, and the two of you start heading down the street.

The air is warm and the night sky is clear, the stars twinkling brightly. You glance over at her, and admire the way the streep lamps lights up her face. Her eyes are focused ahead, and you stare at her profile. She notices you staring, and turns her head, smiling softly.

"What's up?" she questions.

You shake your head and face forward, wanting to crawl in a hole at your slip-up. "Nothing." You feel the heat rise to your cheeks. This is silly. You've seen this woman plenty of times recently. Hell, you were just in the cafe together not even fifteen ago. But now, walking side-by-side with her, the air between you heavy, you can't help but feel a need to impress her. The idea that you could possibly have a friendship (or more?) with her makes your heart soar. It's silly, and maybe a bit childish, but you're not one to let a good feeling pass by. So, you take a chance, wanting to make this work.

"So, I don't know much about you, but I'd love to," you begin, and her gaze darts towards you. "Tell me about yourself. You said you were a dancer, right?"

"Oh, yeah." She nods. "I started dancing when I was a kid. It was fun, but I didn't start taking it seriously until I was older. I started out doing covers, and eventually landed an audition with a company. That's how I got my foot in the door, and then I kept climbing and now I'm here."

"That's amazing," you tell her. "I'm guessing it's a lot of hard work?"

She nods. "Definitely. It's rewarding, though."

You want to know more, so you ask her more questions, and you follow into comfortable chatter as she tells you all about her life. She asks you a few questions too, some of which you avoid, like why you moved here, or why you're working at the cafe that you obviously dislike. But, overall, the conversation flows easily, and before you know it, the two of you are standing in front of your apartment building.

As the two of you approach the lobby, Bada speaks. "We should do this more often."

"Which part? Walking home together, or me talking your ear off about the ending of Twenty-Five Twenty-One?"

"Mostly the first part. Although I didn't mind hearing you talk about that kdrama. The lead actress is really hot."

You snort, and she follows suit. "You know, I'm glad you came into the cafe today," you confess.

"Me too." She responds, and the two of you stop in front of your door. You're unsure of what to say next, but Bada steps forward, and you tense. Was this really happening?

But then she's inching away, her hands tucked into her pockets. You relax, and ignore the slight disappointment built up in your chest. Duh, you think, shaking your head. What were you expecting?

"Well, have a good night." You say, offering her a small smile.

"You too," she says. "I'll see you soon."

She waves, and you watch her go, before unlocking the door and walking into the apartment. You close your door behind you, and lean against it, releasing a breath.

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Over the next week, you see Bada in passing in the hallway multiple times. Each time she sees you, she stops and says hi, and you talk for a bit. She stops by the cafe a few times too, although she hasn't been able to walk home with you again yet, having a late-night schedule nearly everyday.

But each encounter makes your heart race, and by the end of the week, you feel like your chest might explode. You're not sure the attraction is reciprocated, but even if it is, would she actually be interested in someone like you? Someone who had to deal with a shitty customer service job, was running increasingly low on money, had a terrible sleep schedule, and was depending on one call to determine whether or not this move was a mistake? Probably not. The videos you've been watching for the past hour have made that evident.

Curiosity got the best of you, and you finally looked up Bada about an hour ago. It didn't take long for her to pop up. A ton of information about her was available, from her birthday, to her favorite food, to her shoe size. You mostly ignored that stuff, opting to watch her choreography videos instead. A horrible mistake. She was undeniably talented and captivating, and watching her perform made you feel a million things all at once, the most powerful being desire, much to your dismay. Why was that woman always humping the floor?

After watching the last video, which was a choreography of a popular girl group's song, you shut your computer and lean back on the couch. You stare at the wall separating your apartment from hers, wondering what she's doing right now. Is she getting ready for bed? Did she have a busy day? Is she thinking of you, like how you're thinking of her? Doubtful, but the thought makes your stomach flip.

A notification from your phone interrupts your pity party. You assume it's a notification about a delivery you have coming, but you're surprised to see a text from one of your hometown friends.

Jasmine: heyyy how is everything going over there!

Jasmine: opened up your dream bakery yet?

Not this. You really, really do not want to get into this right now, especially with your friends and family from home, who had high expectations for you. But they were your friends, and you didn't want to keep them in the dark. You take a deep breath, and respond.

y/n: almost. just working at a cafe while I'm getting everything settled.

You wait a few minutes, but she doesn't respond. You sigh. Another thing you miss from home—texting your friends in real time. It would have been nice to be able to vent.

You're about to stand up when you get a response.

Jasmine: oh okay! just be careful not to fall into the same trap you were in here. I don't want you working yourself to death :(

y/n: i won't.

Jasmine: good.

Jasmine: anyway, met anybody cute out there yet?

You stare at the screen, and you can't help but smile.

y/n: yes.

Jasmine: OMG!!!

Jasmine: details plz!

You laugh.

y/n: it's none of your business, lol.

Jasmine: come ooooon y/n!

y/n: nope! I don't want to jinx anything

Jasmine: fine. just keep me updated.

You're about to respond, but a knock at your front door startles you. You set your phone down, and walk over to the door, looking through the peephole, and speak of the devil: It's Bada.

You quickly comb a hand through your hair and rub the sleep out of your eyes. Taking a deep breath, you open the door, trying not to look flustered.

"Hey!" you greet.

"Hi." She responds, and you immediately recognize that something is decidedly off. She looks tense. Her brows are furrowed, and she’s avoiding eye contact, shifting her weight from side to side awkwardly. You see her clutching something behind her back, but cannot make out what it is.

"Um, are you okay?" you ask hesitantly, half-ready to grab the (tall and grown) woman to pull her inside your apartment to protect her from potential imminent dangers.

"Yeah. I just-um. I think your package was delivered to the wrong address?" She pulls her arm from behind her back, and hands you a large box with it flipped to the bottom. "Sorry."

"Oh!" you take the package, are immediately met with the recipient name printed in bold font that is, of course, addressed to you. "Thank you. Sorry about that."

"No worries." She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "I'll, uh, see you around."

"Yeah, definitely."

She walks away, and you're left standing in the doorway, a bit confused. That was...weird. You step back inside, shutting the door. You set the package down on the coffee table, and just as you are about to rip it open, you make eye contact with the imagery on the front of the package.

Your eyes widen. Oh no. How could you have forgotten?

There, plastered across the front of the box, was a clear picture of a very suggestive toy. You read the words below the image.

"Battery-Operated Love: Your Guide To The Best Vibrators, Toys, and Dildos!"

You stare. You blink. You look around, as if someone is playing a prank on you. You stare some more.

Then, you hurriedly reach for the throw pillow sitting next to you on the couch, and scream into it.

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You sigh, tapping your foot against the floor to the rhythm of humming washers. It's early morning, the sun barely peeking out, and you're currently in the laundry room in your building, waiting for your clothes to dry.

It's been a few days since your package fiasco, and Bada hasn't made another appearance. You'd say she's trying to avoid you, but in reality, you’re the one going out of your way to steer clear of her potential judgments. You've even taken to staying in late, leaving the apartment only to go to work, where you've adjusted your schedule to further avoid the woman in case she tried to stop by. You acknowledge the fact that you're probably overreacting. It wasn't that big of a deal. You're a grown woman with needs! And you weren't going to let those needs fester when you had such an accessible way of gratifying them. You couldn't let the hard work that ancient physicians put into developing such helpful products go to waste. You love to support small businesses!

Although, you weren’t a big fan of the one you ordered from this time. So much for "discreet packaging.”

You stand up, deciding to grab a drink from the vending machine outside to cool your nerves. You reach the lobby, and walk towards the corner, where the row of machines are lined up in front of windows that belong to the gym. You insert your coins, press a few buttons, and wait for your drink. The vending machine is old, and the whirring and clanging of the dispensing mechanism are loud, so it takes longer than usual.

You glance around as you wait, and your eyes finally settle on the windows. You squint, noticing a familiar silhouette performing a series of exercises.

Bada is inside, doing pull-ups. Her back is to you, and her hair is pulled into a ponytail. She's wearing a loose t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and shorts. Sweat drips from her forehead and down her back, and the muscles in her arms flex and move with each lift.

You feel your throat dry up. The machine spits out the can, and you grab it. You hesitate for a moment, and then step forward, pushing open the glass door leading into the gym as if you were moving on autopilot. You don't know what you're doing.

"Hey!" you greet.

She turns around, eyes wide, and lowers herself onto the ground. "Hi."

"How are you?" you ask.

"Good! Just finishing up my workout," she answers, reaching for the towel draped on a bench beside her.

"Cool," you answer, trying not to focus on the way her chest heaves as she catches her breath.

"What about you? Haven't seen you around lately," she says, wiping the sweat from her neck.

"I've been busy," you lie, weakly holding up your can. "Just got something from the vending machine while I'm waiting for my laundry. Probably gonna head out and run some errands after this.”

"Ah, okay." She nods, and reaches for a water bottle. You watch her tilt her head back, gulping down the liquid, her Adam's apple bobbing as she swallows. Your eyes travel to her neck, and her collarbone, which is exposed, and the droplets of sweat that rest on her skin. You watch her throat move, and suddenly, your mind is filled with images of her lips trailing down your neck, nipping at your throat, and you're overcome with desire.

You swallow, then continue rambling, trying to rid yourself of your debauched thinking. "Yup, heading over to Itaewon with a friend tonight. Probably won't be back home until tomorrow morning!" you say with the projection of a teenage boy who had his first drink yesterday. You weren't lying this time, though. After the incident, you were humbled into a state of reflection. You wanted to try putting yourself out there, and potentially find gratification beyond something that was battery-powered. Mijoo was ecstatic to hear this, and immediately sent you a list of clubs she and her friends frequented.

"Sounds fun." She takes another sip, and sets the bottle down. "Hope you have a good time. Actually, do you have time to do me a favor before you get back to your laundry?"

"What kind of favor?" you ask, a bit suspicious.

"Can you spot me?" she asks, and you're confused for a moment. She gestures towards a padded spot on the floor. "I was gonna do some more reps, and I’d really appreciate it if you could help me—um—make sure my form was right. f you don't have time, that's fine, I can ask someone else."

"No!" you answer. She jerks her head back in confusion, and you flush at your stumble. "No, I have time. I can spot you."

"Awesome! Thanks so much," she says with her signature heartwarming grin. "I'll just do a couple of sets. It shouldn't take too long.”

”I should warn you that I don’t know anything about weightlifting. Or strength exercises. Or cardio—”

"Not a problem. I’ll just do sit-ups." She reassures as she sits on the floor, and lies down.

“Oh. Okay,” you felt like you were in grade school. "Are we counting or not counting?"

"Um, counting would be helpful," she says.

You nod, and kneel beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. You feel her tense for a second, but are quickly distracted trying not to focus on the way the damp fabric of her shirt sticks to her skin. "Okay. Ready when you are."

You count, and with each sit-up, the muscles in her arms flex, her jaw tightens, and her breathing becomes labored. You're in such close proximity to her, her arm brushes against yours every time she goes down. The heat radiating from her body is palpable, and you feel yourself begin to sweat, the air becoming hot.

When she's finished, she falls back onto the mat, and you release the breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding. She gets up, and wipes the sweat from her forehead.

"Well, that was fun," she says, standing up to grab her stuff.

"Yeah, it sure was," you murmer, trying to hide the fact that you're completely out of breath despite doing nothing but count. You stand up, and follow her out the door. "See you later, Bada."

Bada waves, looking you over once more in a manner that makes your insides twist, before turning around a speed-walking toward the elevators.

You take a minute to breathe and head back into the laundry room, where your clothes are ready. Instead of grabbing them, you collapse into one of the cheap folding chairs in the corner of the room. Your clothes are probably tinier at this point, but you can't bring yourself to move. Why did you even walk in there in the first place? You knew well that you weren’t capable of acting normal in front of that woman.

You remind yourself of your plans with Mijoo tonight. A club. In the city. With pretty people. Where alcohol was served.

You take a deep breath, and stand up, taking your clothes and throwing them in your basket.

You'd be fine.

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An ear-splitting wail from the girl next to you almost makes you drop your drink.

"I CAN'T DO THIS SHIT ANYMORE!" the woman screeches, and Mijoo, who is currently attempting to console her, rolls her eyes.

"Honey, please, don't make a scene."

"But it's true! I'm a loser, and I'm going to die alone! I might as well stop trying!”

"No, you're not, just stop drinking," Mijoo responds, her voice a few octaves higher in annoyance. She glances at you, and rolls her eyes.

The two of you are at the gay bar in Itaewon, and after an hour and a half, it seems that the night is coming to an end. Mijoo's friend, Naeun, had a mental breakdown after spotting her ex-girlfriend making out with the woman she told her not to worry about. After that, the mood was completely killed. Naeun feigned nonchalance at first.That relationship was seven months ago, she said. I’ve moved on, she said. I’ve had better, she said. it was almost convincing, until you saw her gulp down three shots at a pace you did not know was humanly possible.

And now…

"It's like, you don't listen to anything I say," Naeun sniffles, and you genuinely feel bad for her. You give her a gentle pat on the back, and she turns to hug you.

"I know, I'm a horrible friend or whatever. Let's just go home and eat ice cream or something," Mijoo sighs, and the two of you help Naeun stand.

"Yes. Thank you. You guys are the best," she whimpers. "I don't deserve you."

"Yes, you do," Mijoo assures.

"Yeah, it's all good," you chime in. "Let's just get you home. I think you've had enough alcohol for the next week. Or year."

You and Mijoo drag her out of the bar and into the streets of Itaewon. It's dark, and the neon lights illuminate the sidewalks, where drunk patrons stumble through. You're a little buzzed, and Naeun's deadweight is difficult to carry. Somehow, you manage to get her onto the subway, and inside your building, which is closest. When you reach your front door, you can't help but glance over at Bada's apartment, and are surprised to see a light peeking through the crack between the door and the frame.

"You live here?" Naeun slurs, and you nod, opening the door and dragging her in.

"We'll put her on the couch. Do you mind if we stay over?" Mijoo suggests.

"Not at all," you agree, and the two of you set her down. She groans, and closes her eyes, stretching across your couch in a starfish position. Her dress has risen all the way up to her stomach, but she doesn’t seem to care, You grimace at the sight. "Poor thing."

"She'll be fine," Mijoo says, waving her off. "Come on, I’m starving,"

You follow her into your kitchen and lean against the counter as she reaches into your fridge to pours herself a drink. So much for ice cream.

"Sorry our plans fell through," she apologizes, and you shrug.

"It's not a big deal. Shit happens. Besides, I had fun even though we were only out for, like, five seconds," you answer.

She takes a sip of the liquid in her cup. “We can try again next week? I'll make sure that Naeun is mentally stable next time."

"I don’t know. That doesn’t sound as fun,” you joke, and she grins.

"You’re so right,” she pauses as she opens your fridge back up, and gasps. "Ooh, y/n, can I have one of these?"

"One of what?" you ask, peering over her shoulder, only to find her holding cupcake that you'd made earlier. "Oh, yeah, sure. Go ahead."

She rips off the wrapper, and takes a bite, moaning. "Wow, this is—"

A loud thump sounds from the other side of the wall, and the two of you turn your heads, eyes wide.

"Is that your neighbor?" Mijoo whispers, and the two of you stand still, listening intently. There are a few more thumps, and then a sharp gasp.

"I think she's fucking someone," Mijoo whispers, and then a moan sounds from the other side, followed by a string of curse words, and the bed frame slams against the wall, a rhythmic knocking echoing throughout the apartment.

Naeun sits up from where she's sitting on the couch, and mechanically states, "I need to call her."

"Don't you dare," Mijoo growls, aggressively pointing a finger at the pitiful girl. Naeun whines, and collapses back onto the couch, and you continue to stare at the wall with wide eyes. This couldn't be happening.

You're quiet, listening to the creeks of the bed, the groans, the panting, the curses, and, despite the situation, you can’t help but feel…curious. You’d usually be irked by this situation, reminded of the particularly horrific nights you’d have when you lived with a roommate in your younger years. As made evident by the fluttering in your stomach (and in other parts of your body) you, this was not that. Not even close.

Mijoo laughs. "Oh my god, does this usually happen?"

You snap out of your stupor. "Uh, no, actually. She's usually pretty quiet."

"Really?"

"Yeah. And besides, she's sweet, so it's kind of weird hearing this, but, uh, it's whatever," you reply, attempting to ignore a squeal that vaguely resembles Bada's name.

The bed's movements pick up speed, and the sounds become louder.

"Oh my god," Mijoo murmurs, covering her ears. Naeun starts crying again.

"She's gonna fuck her to death," Naeun sobs, and then the two of you can’t help but burst into laughter. You walk over to the living room, and pat her on the back.

"Come on, let's get you to sleep," you say, helping her up. "You can have the bed. Mijoo and I will take the couch."

"Thank you, I love you both so much," she blubbers, and you drag her into the bedroom, tucking her into the bed.

"We're gonna stay in the living room, so holler if you need us, okay?" you tell her, and she nods.

"I love you guys," she slurs, and then passes out, mouth wide open.

"She’s so dramatic," Mijoo cackles as you close the door.

You and Mijoo get ready to go to sleep, and soon enough the obscene noises from next door are gone. But, as you fall asleep on the couch, they still ring in your head.

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"I'm so sorry for the way I acted last night." Naeun apologizes, a pout on her face. You wave her off. “Don't worry, you're good. At least you gave us some entertainment while you were at it. Are you okay, though?"

She shrugs, adjusting the duffle bag on her shoulder. "Yeah. I mean, it was a pretty big blow, but I'll get over it. She's not worth the tears."

"Atta girl," Mijoo cooes, patting Naeun's head. She turns to you, and smiles. "Thanks for letting us stay over, y/n."

You open your front door, and wave. "Yeah, of course. I'll see you guys later."

Just as the two girls step out, the door to the apartment next to yours opens. You all look to the side, and notice a disheveled woman with blonde hair and bright red lipstick exiting into the hallway. You and Mijoo exchange glances as the woman's eyes meet yours. She gives a small, awkward smile when she notices the three of you, and then bows before hurrying down the hallway.

"Was that your neighbor?" Mijoo asks, and you shake your head.

The actual neighbor in question steps into the hallway, and the three of you watch her with wide eyes. She's wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, long hair cascading down her back.

Bewildered by your stares, she looks at the three of you with confusion.

"Hello," she greets, bowing, and the three of you bow back. "How are you?"

Naeun's eyes become the size of saucers. "Y-you're Bad—"

"Good!" Mijoo interrupts, and gives a wide, forced smile. "We're all doing well."

"That's good," Bada replies, giving a polite nod. She looks at you, and the corners of her lips quirk upwards. "Hi, y/n. Nice seeing you."

After last night’s noises, her politeness makes you want to laugh. or scream. or cry. You return the smile, gripping your doorknob until your knuckles turn white. "Yeah, nice seeing you, too."

She turns her attention back to the other two, waves, then walks off.

Mijoo and Naeun immediately whip around to face you.

"Your neighbor is Bada Lee?!" Naeun screeches.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Mijoo yells, and you step back.

"Bye guys!" you say, closing the door on the two of them.

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Shortly before closing, the bell rings.

"Hello!" you chirp. "Welcome to—oh, hello!"

"Hey, y/n." Bada waves.

"Hey," you say, even though the two of you already said hello. "How are you?"

"Good, and you?"

"Great, thanks," she responds, staying put in front of the door. "Uh, I actually came here to, um, ask if you wanted to walk home together? I was just passing by, and I thought maybe we could just, like, walk back. At the same time. Since we both have to, um, go there. To our respective homes. I know it's been a while, but I thought it'd be fun. I-if you want some company, I mean. Sorry, I'll leave if you want me to, I'm just—"

"Bada," you interrupt, and she looks up, her eyes meeting yours. "I'd love to."

She blinks. "You would?"

The look of surprise on her face almost startles you back into hesitation. Why wouldn’t you want to spend time with the woman? Even with all the moments you’ve wanted to bury yourself in a hole because of your embarrassment, you couldn’t find it in yourself to ever say no.

Untying your apron from around your waist, you nod. "Yeah! Just give me a second to grab my stuff."

"Okay." She grins. "Thanks."

You pick up your belongings, clock out, and the two of you stepping outside. You lock the doors, and begin to walk towards your building.

"So, how was your night yesterday?" Bada asks, and you almost trip at the reminder of yesterday’s events.

"Uh, it was fine," you reply, clearing your throat. "What about yours?"

"Oh, it was, um, good." She nods.

I’m sure it was, you think. You look at the ground, biting the inside of your cheek. "That's good."

The two of you walk in silence, and now you feel awkward. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. The only sounds surrounding you are of the rustling of the trees, and the occasional passing car.

"Was that your girlfriend?" she suddenly blurts out, and you whip your head around to look at her.

"Huh?"

"Last night, when I ran into the three of you in the hallway. Were one of those girls your girlfriend? Or…”

"No, neither of them," you reply, shaking your head. "One of them is Mijoo, the coworker I told you about, and her friend, Naeun. They came over after we went to a bar."

"Ah." She nods, looking at the sidewalk, and your eyes narrow. You swear you see a small smile on her face.

"What about your girl?" you ask, and her head shoots up.

"My girl?"

"Yeah. Was the girl that was over last night your girlfriend?"

"Oh, no, no, she wasn't," she quickly answers.

"Hm," you hum. And then, your next words spill from your mouth before you can even process them. "I would've thought so with all of the…screaming that was going on."

"W-what?" she stammers, freezing in her tracks.

"Uh," you say, stopping as well. "Nothing. Forget I said anything."

"Did you hear...us?" she asks, her voice quiet, and you can't bear to look at her. Why did you speak up? You didn’t want her to feel embarrassed. Or worse, think of you as a creep for listening in.

"Yes," you murmur, and she lets out a groan, her face turning a shade of pink.

"I am so, so sorry. I thought you were gone. Oh my god, that is so embarrassing." She buries her face in her hands, and despite your previous regrets, you bite your lip to suppress a giggle. Her reaction was too cute.

"It's okay, really," you assure, and she drops her hands, still refusing to look at you. You smile, and continue walking. "Don't worry about it."

"But that's so embarrassing," she whines, and you laugh again.

"You were clearly having a good time."

"Yeah, but I didn't want you to hear," she sighs, and you pat her back.

"Well, at least we're even now."

"What do you mean?" she asks, puzzled.

Uh oh. She probably already forgot about the delivery situation, and you just brought it up for no reason. What the fuck was up with you right now? You were just saying anything.

"Oh, nevermind. Forget about it," you respond, waving her off.

"What was it, though? I haven't heard you…uh…do anything before," she protests, and you shrug, trying to brush her off.

"Nope! Forget about it! I confused you with someone else," you rush out, picking up your pace as you make eye contact with your building.

"You have another neighbor that could’ve potentially heard you having sex?" she replies, clearly confused, as she jogs slightly to catch up.

"No idea!" you sing, and open the door, stepping into the lobby.

"This makes no sense. Now I’m not gonna stop asking," she tells you, and you can't help but laugh.

"And I'm not going to stop avoiding the question."

"Y/n!"

You enter the elevator, and press the button to the 8th floor, watching her enter. You give a polite smile, and she sighs, giving up.

"Fine," she finishes with a pout.

The elevator goes up, and the two of you stand in comfortable silence. You don't know if it's because of the woman's earlier embarrassment, but something about tonight definitely has you feeling a little bold and ready to tease.

"Hey," you pipe up, and she looks over at you. "You guys were pretty loud."

"Shut up," she grumbles, and you can't help but smirk, watching her glare at the floor.

"My friends almost called the police. It sounded like you were committing murder."

"What?" she exclaims, and then groans. "Oh my god, don't."

"And I almost let them. I was like, woah. I knew this woman couldn't be entirely perfect and had to be keeping some sort of deep, dark, secret. But a serial killer? I would've never thought. Turns out you just had a serial moaner in there, I guess."

"Please stop."

"I mean, what were you doing to that poor girl. I—"

"At this point, it just seems like you're trying to get details out of me," she interjects.

"W-what?" you squeak, and she smiles, turning to look at you, suddenly cool and collected.

She shrugs. "You keep bringing it up."

You scoff. How dare she accuse you of such a thing! All of the thirst comments under her posts must have gotten to her head.

"You're ridiculous," you retort.

"Am I wrong, though?" she counters, and you stare at her with wide eyes.

"No," you reply quickly, and then you mentally facepalm, realizing what you said. "I mean yes. You're wrong."

"Right," she chuckles, and the elevator dings, the doors opening. "I have a question for you."

"Yeah, sure, what is it?" you ask, stepping out into the hallway.

She bites her lip, clearly trying to stifle a laugh. "Have you had the chance to use your Satisfyer Pro yet?"

Your jaw drops, aghast. "Wh-what? What the fu—"

"Goodnight, y/n," she grins, snickering as she runs inside her apartment like a little goblin, leaving you to watch her with a mixture of disbelief and irritation.

You can't help but let out a huff of laughter as you enter your own apartment.

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You're sitting in bed with a slice of cake on your lap, blanket tossed to the side due to the hot weather, binge-watching a new series. You contemplate checking your email for a message from that landlord, but decide against it, not wanting to put a damper on your decent mood. Instead, you tune in to another episode of a k-drama, in which the protagonist dies for a second time. Supposedly, it's for real this time.

You're about to finish the slice when there's a knock at the door. You frown, pausing the episode. You stand up, place the plate on the dresser, then walk towards the front door, peering through the peephole. Your heart begins to beat faster when you see a certain woman standing outside your apartment.

"What's up?" you greet, swinging the door open.

"Hey," she says, a soft smile on her face. She's wearing a pair of loose shorts and a white t-shirt, hair in a bun. Sweat glistens on her forehead, and her cheeks are flushed. You can't help but note how good she looks, despite looking rumpled.

"Hi," you respond, returning the smile. "What's going on?" you ask, leaning against the doorframe.

"So, uh, my air conditioning broke," she begins. "And I was wondering if I could hang out in your apartment for a bit? The maintenance people said they aren't going to be able to get here until tomorrow. Apparently they don't work on Sundays."

You've suddenly become aware of the fact that Bada has never been inside your apartment. The idea of her being inside the same room as you, sitting on your furniture, breathing in the scent of your home, sends a wave of heat down your spine. Maybe it was best to reject her offer and suggest another solution.

"Come on in!" you say, and open the door.

"Thank you," she breathes out, walking in, and your eyes rake over her figure as she passes by you.

She looks around, taking in the sight of your apartment. You notice her eyes linger on some of your old pictures from your hometown.

"Your apartment is really nice," she tells you, and you feel a rush of pride.

"Thank you! Feel free to take a seat wherever," you reply, gesturing towards the couch, and she sits, throwing her head back as she lets out a sigh of relief.

"You're a lifesaver," she declares, and you plop down next to her.

"What happened?" you ask, and she shakes her head.

”I wish I knew. I went to turn on my AC and it just, didn’t come on. Completely out of the blue.”

"That sucks," you respond, and she nods, a grim expression on her face.

"So," she begins, turning her head towards you. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," you answer, and then remember the slice of cake on the dresser. You point to it. "Would you like some?"

"Yes, please," she says, nodding fervently. "Water would be great, too, if you don't mind."

Grateful to put some distance between the two of you, you practically bounce out of your seat. "Coming right up!"

You return with two glasses of water and your cake. She thanks you, and you hand her a fork, taking one for yourself.

"This is really good, y/n. Did you make this too?" she praises, and you nod.

"I did. Thanks," you reply, taking a bite.

"You really need to give me the recipe for these things. Or start selling them! I'd buy them all," she compliments, and you blush, waving her off.

You stare at the ground for a moment, before laughing bitterly. "That was supposed to be the goal, I guess.”

She furrows her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

You inhale slowly, prepping yourself. You hated this. But maybe you needed this. "I used to have my own bakery. In my hometown That's actually where I moved from. But then my landlord jacked the rent up and I couldn't afford it, and I was forced to close," you explain.

"Oh." She frowns. "That's awful. What a jerk."

"Tell me about it," you mumble, carelessly dropping your fork on the table.

"Are you looking for another place here?" she asks, and you nod.

"Yeah. There's a lot of great spots in Seoul, but there's one building in particular that I've had my eye on. It's not far from the Han River, and the rent is relatively cheap, and it's got everything I could possibly need. I'm just waiting to hear back from the that landlord. We were negotiating and things were going pretty well. But now its been months. I haven't heard from him since I moved here."

You blink back tears, and clear your throat, picking up the fork again. Whenever you think of everything that's happened to you recently, you cannot help but feel like an utter failure. You worked hard, finally achieved success, only for things to all fall apart. It seemed as if all of your efforts were for nothing.

"Hey," she whispers, and her voice is soft, calming. "It's gonna be okay."

She gently squeezes your arm, and her touch is warm. You look at her, and the tenderness in her eyes is enough to make you want to cry more.

"I know. It's just hard, sometimes," you confess, and her hand remains on your arm.

"I get that, but I can promise you that what you're going through is temporary. I can't tell you how many times I thought I was done for good when I first started out, but now, I've come this far. If you keep your head up, and just keep working hard, you'll make it. You’ve done it before.”

Her words resonate with you, and her unwavering support fills you with hope. "Thanks, Bada," you respond, smiling.

"Of course," she responds, her eyes never leaving yours. "I'm here for you."

"I'm here for you too," you whisper.

A moment of silence passes, and your eyes travel to her hand. Her skin is smooth, and her fingers are long and slender. You wonder what they'd feel like intertwined with yours.

"Um, I’ve been meaning to ask," she says, interrupting your thoughts, and your eyes meet hers again. "Any new dramas you wanted to tell me about? Or, what about the one with that married couple you talked about?”

You almost laugh at her obvious attempt to distract you from your depressing thoughts.

"Pretty good," you reply, and she gives you a pointed look.

"And by pretty good, you mean..."

"Amazing, wonderful, mind-blowing, spectacular," you continue, and she nods, satisfied. "I was actually watching it before you knocked on the door."

"Ooh, really?" she responds, eyes widening.

"Yeah. Would you like to watch it together?" you suggest, and she grins.

"Yes, please."

"Okay," you giggle, and grab the remote, pressing play.

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Halfway through the episode, you decide to move to your bedroom (because the AC works better in there, of course!). Somehow, while lying on the bed, your legs become intertwined. She's sprawled out, and her head is resting in the crook of your neck, her soft hair tickling your face.

You can feel her steady breathing, and the heat radiating off her body, and all of your senses are filled with her. You're so focused on her that you can't even focus on the episode.

"Y/n?" she murmurs, and her voice is low, quiet.

"Yeah?" you reply, voice equally as soft.

"Would it be weird if I said that I'm glad my air conditioner broke?"

You snort, and her body shakes with silent laughter. "Not at all."

You pause the show, and sit up. She does the same, and her eyes are shining.

"Do you want anything to eat? I've got chips, and some ice cream," you offer, and she bites her lip.

"Not really. Thanks, though," she responds, and your eyes travel to her lips. They're plump and pink, and you're tempted to reach out and kiss her.

"Okay, no problem," you say, and her gaze is intense, burning.

"Thanks for letting me come over. I appreciate it."

"Of course," you murmur, and then clear your throat. "Anytime."

"Really?"

"Yeah! You can even stay the night, if you want. I don't mind," you respond, and her eyebrows raise, lips curling upwards.

"Okay," she answers, and leans forward, cupping your face in her hands.

The action surprises you, and you let out a gasp. She pauses, eyes searching yours, and you nod, giving her permission.

She leans forward, and you close your eyes, waiting for her to press her lips against yours. Instead, you feel a pair of lips softly kissing your forehead, and your cheeks, and your jaw, and your nose, and then they finally, finally press against yours.

The kiss is gentle and sweet, and when she pulls away, her eyes are filled with affection.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," she admits, and you chuckle.

"Me too," you whisper, and her smile grows wider.

She moves closer to you, and you wrap your arms around her, pulling her into a hug. Her body is soft, and her skin is smooth, and you can feel her warmth seeping into your skin.

"I really like you, y/n," she whispers, and you tighten your hold on her.

"I really like you too, Bada," you respond, and she nuzzles her face into the crook of your neck. You're in heaven.

"Thank god. I was afraid I was making a fool out of myself," she confesses, and you giggle.

"What? Oh my god. Not at all," you assure her, and she pulls away, a smirk on her face.

"So, I was right about you wanting details?"

"Oh fuck you," you mutter, pulling her back into a significantly more aggressive kiss. A surprised noise escapes her lips, but she eventually melts into it, moving against you with equal fervor. Her hands run up and down your sides, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind, and you're so caught up in the sensation that you don't even realize when she starts straddling you until she presses her body against yours in a way that has you gasping.

Your hands travel underneath her shirt, feeling the smoothness of her warm skin, the lines of her stomach, the swell of her breasts, and the curves of her waist. She groans into the kiss before slipping her tongue into your mouth, causing heat to pool in the pit of your stomach.

When you pull away, she's panting, and her lips are swollen. Her hair is slightly mussed, and her pupils are dilated, her eyes filled with desire. Without words, you both begin removing each other's clothes, tossing them to the side. She's left in only a black bra and boxers, and you have to remind yourself to move.

She chuckles, and you stare at her chest. You can see the outline of her nipples, and you reach out, brushing a thumb against them, and she bites her lip, closing her eyes. You can feel her heart beating rapidly, and you trace circles around her nipples, and she lets out a shaky breath.

"Please," she begs, and you smile, pulling her into another kiss.

Your hands move lower, caressing the skin of her thighs, and then you're cupping her center, and she gasps, pulling away.

"Y/n," she pants, and the sound of her moaning your name sends another rush of heat down your spine.

"Bada," you breathe out, and press kisses against her jawline, and down her neck, and collarbone, and chest. Your hand is still between her thighs, and she bucks her hips, trying to find friction.

"Y/n, please," she repeats, and the desperation in her voice is so fucking hot.

You slip a finger inside her, and you feel her walls immediately clench, followed by a whimper you're not sure belongs to you or her. You curl your finger inside her, and her head falls back into the crook of your neck as she rolls her hips, grinding against your palm.

"More," she practically demands, and you add another finger.

She's soaking wet, and the lewd sounds coming from your fingers sliding in and out of her has you squeezing your thighs together, desperate for some sort of relief.

You use your thumb to rub circles on her clit, and her movements become more erratic, her moans becoming louder.

"I'm gonna-ugh," she pants, and her nails dig into your skin as she orgasms.

You can feel her walls clenching and unclenching, and her body trembles, her eyes squeezed shut. She breathes heavily, and the sight of her is enough to drive you wild.

You continue stroking her until she opens her eyes, and you can't help but grin.

"Holy shit," she manages, and you remove your fingers, and she lets out a moan.

"Good?"

"Yes," she replies, and leans forward, capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

"Now," she begins, breaking away. "Let me take care of you."

You can only nod as she reaches for your breasts, fondling them, and her eyes never leave yours. She's smirking, and the intensity in her gaze is enough to make your heart skip a beat.

You close your eyes, enjoying the sensation, and you nearly jump when you feel her body shift, her lips pressing against the sensitive skin of your neck.

She moves down, taking a nipple into her mouth, and you groan, arching your back. Her lips travel to your stomach, and then your thighs, and then you're lifting your hips, and she's sliding your underwear off.

"Spread your legs, y/n," she requests, and her voice is low, seductive.

You obey immediately, and then her tongue is inside you, and her fingers are on your clit, and your entire body is on fire. She sucks on your clit, and then makes headway further down, sliding her tongue inside you. You can't stop the moans that escape from your mouth, and you're certain the whole complex can hear, but you don't care.

Suddenly, she stops, and looks up at you. Your eyes snap open, annoyed by the interruption until you observe the way he's smiling, her chin slick with your wetness.s

"I wanna try something," she begins, and she sits up, scanning the room. "Where's that thing you got the other day?"

You bite back a moan. "Nightstand drawer."

She opens it, and takes out a small, pink object. Your face flushes as she turns it on, the vibrations audible in the otherwise quiet room.

"Is this okay?" she asks, and you nod, eager.

"Yes," you answer, and her mouth returns to your center.

She teases your entrance with the object, and the combination of her tongue and the vibrator has you squirming, your hands finding their way to her head, holding her in place.

"Oh god," you whimper, and the pleasure is indescribable.

Her tongue picks up speed, and then the vibrator enters you, and you nearly scream.

She pushes the toy in and out, and as it vibrates against your clit, and begin to feel like you can't take anymore. Your back arches, and a wave of euphoria washes over you as your orgasm hits, and the only thing you can see is the light from the lamp and the white of the ceiling.

When you regain control of your senses, you can feel her body lying on top of yours, her head on your chest. You lay in silence, trying to catch your breath, and it isn't until you hear her voice that you speak.

"How are you doing?"

"Sleepy," you mumble, and she smiles, pecking you on the lips.

"Then let's go to sleep."

You can only nod as your eyes slowly close and your mind becomes hazy. Before you drift off completely, you think to yourself that this might've been the best night you've had since moving here.

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Two weeks later, you and Bada are going up the elevator to your respective apartments after a walk from your job. You'd just spent the past hour gossiping in between taking customer's orders. Apparently, Mijoo and Naeun are going out. Figures. You hoped it worked out for them, but nobody was beating the blissful few weeks you've.

The two of you are holding hands, and your free one is holding a box containing a dozen chocolate chip cookies, made especially for Bada.

"I'm thinking of moving out," she suddenly states, and the statement catches you off guard.

"What? Why?" you ask, and she shrugs.

"It's about time. I can afford a better place, and I'm ready to move on from the apartment life. I need a house."

"I can understand that," you reply, nodding.

"You should move in with me," she continues, and the statement makes you laugh.

"What? Are you crazy? We just got together."

"Who cares? I want to live with you. Don't you want to live with me?" she responds, pouting, and she gives you puppy dog eyes.

"Yes, but...," you pause, and you can tell from the expression on her face that she's serious.

"But what? What's the problem?"

"Nothing. Let's do it."

"Really?"

"Yes, really," you confirm, and she beams, leaning in to kiss you.

You can't believe what you just agreed to. But, in a way, you're relieved. Maybe this will finally bring a sense of finality to everything that's happened.

"Damn, guess I'm gonna have to tell Jennifer about us. She's coming out here soon," you mutter, opening your email app. You go to type in your friend's email, but your eyes land on an unread email in your inbox, sent two weeks ago. It's from an unknown sender, and the subject is 'Regarding Your Application.'

Your eyes widen, and Bada nosily peers over your shoulder, reading the words.

"What's that?" she asks, and you gulp.

"I don't know."

"Open it!" she exclaims, and you do.

Y/N,

This is Kim Sung Soo, the owner of the property you inquired about. I was out of town for business and unable to contact you regarding your application. I've looked through the papers, and everything seems to be in order. I'd like to meet up with you so we can further discuss the terms of the lease before we finalize anything. When are you available?

"Oh my god," Bada gasps, and she stares at you, wide-eyed.

"What the hell?" you whisper, and Bada squeals.

"Oh, y/n! This is so exciting! Congratulations! I knew it would work out. Now, you can start your bakery, and we can move in together, and oh, my god, I'm so happy!"

"I'm confused," you mutter barely believing your luck, and the elevator dings, indicating that the two of you have arrived.

"Don't worry about it, okay? Come on, let's go have some cookies," she says, tugging on your arm.

You nod, following her down the hall without a hint of resistance. As you watch the woman drag you with a giant smile on her face, you cannot help but giggle. Who knew you'd find home and happiness in such an unlikely place?

#bada lee #bada lee fanfic #bada lee imagine #bada lee fluff #bada lee x reader #bada lee x y/n #street woman fighter 2 #swf2

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pinkpigtailsprincess · 2 days

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How to Dermaplain Properly *࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ🎀

Hi! Hi! 🎀, Welcome 2 My informational guide on how 2 dermaplain properly bc ik some people either want to try it but don’t know how or have tried it and didn’t do it correctly bc believe me i tried it and i did it completely wrong so im here 2 make sure you don’t make the same mistakes i have!! anyways

❤︎ ໋𓈒 What is Dermaplaining??

Dermaplaning is a cosmetic treatment in which dead skin cells and peach fuzz are scraped off with a scalpel by a plastic surgeon, dermatologist, or cosmetologist. - A random definition i got off the interweb!!

❤︎ ໋𓈒 Cool!! Now how do i Dermaplain??

…So What ur gonna do is first get ur materials you’ll need

- a REAL Dermaplaing Razor

i see a-lot of people accidentally using eyebrow razors but please make sure you look for an actual dermaplaining razor bc eyebrow razor tend to have uneven blades and that can irritate the skin!!

- Facial Oil,Aquaphor,Vaseline,Coco Butter or anything that falls under this category!

- Cleanser

- something to put the discarded hair on!

- And Ofc ur Face!!

Step 1; Clean Ur Face!!

Step 2; Take ur facial oil,vaseline etc. and put it all over ur face or just on the areas you wanna focus on to give ur blade something to slide on and easier put up hair and dirt don’t be shy but also don’t put too much!! and let it sir for about 1 minute DONT RUB IT IN

Step 3; Now that its set take ur blade in one hand and ur other hand and pull ur face up just near where ur hair starts and GENTLY!!! shave downwards at a 45 degree angle and do it in gentle short strokes ur cannot shave ur face like how you shave ur body!! and one ur finished a stroke wipe the hair and grime on a paper towel and repeat be careful and be gentle so you don’t cut ur face

Step 4; When ur finished clean ur blade and put back into the safety case! and gently moisturze ur face

and UR DONE!! 🎀 i hope this helped some of yall bye 4 noww luv you!! 🎀☀️

#2sweet2eat🎀🧁#clear skin #skincare #becoming her #becoming that girl #it girl #prissy girl #girl blogger #girl blogging #self care #self love #self improvement #beauty #pretty princess things #princess syndrome #dolly #fashion

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cressthebest · 1 day

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Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 22

chapter 38:

1. “"Right, so, your stylist?" Marlene asks, settling in as they continue to sway. "The one who looks like a fucking goddess? Yeah, so get this, she says we're friends…"”

james and marlene gossip sesh <3333333

2. 😧 MCGONNAGAL??????????

3. wait i think mcgonnagal is good. i’m pretty sure she’s from the phoenix. i’m not sure. i’m hopeful. i’m so hopeful

4. aww huey is kinda sweet. i like that’s he’s reg’s breath of fresh air when it comes to talking to the hallows

5. reg, i understand your anger, but please don’t make one of the only good sponsors feel bad

6. jealous james >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

7. “"I like your tea," James offers. "Maybe I'm biased, but it tastes better than anyone else's. What do you do to it?"

Regulus hums and lightly says, "I spit in it."

Without missing a beat, James replies, "Ah, that explains it."”

😭😭😭😭😭

8. “"Would you—" Regulus chokes on another relentless giggle, gasping a little. "Wait, would you actually drink my tea if I spit in it, James?"

"Love, I would let you spit directly into my mouth," James announces with absolutely no shame in his tone whatsoever.”

😭😭😭😭 james i love you

9. awww i love that barty is the most consistent part of reg’s life. i love barty

10. 😬 riddle is unconvinced in their love story. i- yikes

11. okay, right, mcgonnagal is good. thank god

12. dorcas wants to keep marlene out of the war, but only one of them has had a pov so far, so i’m not hopeful

13. oh shit marlene sounds hot

14. also, to add in, i’m so fucking glad there’s like no homophobia (that we know of) in this world

15. i do NOT want dorlene to be a tragedy in this universe

16. 😟 she gave back the ring. AHHHH

17. oh no. shit shit shit shit shit what did riddle do

18. “Riddle didn't even grant the liberty of leaving bodies behind for them to bury.” 😟😧

(but also, orion and walburga were dicks, so like, i’m not sad, just scared)

chapter 39:

1. aww regulus finally invites james in for tea

2. “On the day he accidentally kills a bee while tending to his flowers, he goes through the five stages of grief in less than an hour, which has nothing to do with the bee and everything to do with Vanity.” STOP! THE VANITY MENTION HURTS TOO MUCH

3. “When Regulus wants more time with him, he adds bagels, which James has now unconsciously been Pavloved into thinking of as his favorite food for that very reason.” STOP THATS SO GAY

4. sirius being dramatic about james and reg liking each other is TOP TIER in this fic, in the most realistic, aggravated, obnoxious, and completely loving way

5. BWAHAHAHHAHA JAMES GETTING A PIGGY BACK RIDE FROM SIRIUS IS GOLD

6. oh shit, (i’m not the best comprehensive reader, but i should have figured this out sooner), but from sirius’ perspective, he has to do the back and forth with remus his whole life. he doesn’t have the knowledge that i do, that a war is coming and they’ll finally get a chance to live together. he thinks he only gets to see remus once a year for two weeks at a time. this- this shit is heartbreaking yall

7. “”I watched him stand to his feet and tip himself into a river of blood in an act so tender that I'll never again be able to look at him with anything less than pure love. Every other member of the Black family, including you, fought and clawed their way home to their family, oftentimes to a family that never truly made them feel loved at all. Regulus? He fought and clawed through that arena, the entire time, for James. He's far more gentle than anyone gives him credit for."”

y’all, i’m crying over this. this is so lovely. effie is right, and i’m crying over how right she is

8. 😒 i know what’s coming. riddles a bitch. a right bitch. he’s gonna announce that previous victors are competing and i’m PISSED

9. so far, all three potters offered reggie food. they’re so hospitable, i love them

10. “He hasn't forgotten what it is to long for James. He still knows what it is to want him so badly that he'd be willing to kneel at the altar of James Potter and beg; he'd drop down on his hands and knees and crawl if that's what it took, if that would prove his devotion. He is the manifestation of longing built up with nowhere to go, and he craves, he yearns, he covets.”

both of them are so down bad

11. omg reg is so horny. his inner monologue is literally only like “”””“rip my clothes off please, read my mind and rip my clothes off”””””

12.AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I KNEW IT WAS COMING! BUT IM SO MAD!!! FUCK RIDDLE

13. effie is a queen. she is a godsend. and i’m so upset right now

14. not effie making them promise not to volunteer, and immediately james and sirius arguing over who’s gonna volunteer for her

15. i’m seething. i’m pissed beyond belief. i’m so angry it’s indescribable. my babies are going back into that arena. honestly, fuck riddle

#marauders #regulus black #james potter #fanfic #jegulus #sirius black #effie potter #euphemia potter #sunseeker #starchaser #dorcas x marlene #dorcas meadowes #marlene mckinnon #crimson rivers

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juggalomary · 2 days

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did yall miss me. i hope you did bc im returning with a bang. anyways here’s this. warnings: mcd, child abuse. up on ao3 within a few days

A new day, a new disaster, that’s what soap would say. He was always an optimist. Never heard saying anything about how they were likely going to die on suicide missions. Even though it was so valiantly obvious. He has to be watching from his overwatch position right now.

Ghost was glad to have him on his 6. They’d been switching places more often, soap on overwatch and sniping the people trying to end his life. He never called out to him about these people. Sometimes they’d just end up dead.

He always knows it was soap though, who else could do that so accurately. Soap was the best of the best. He’s not going to let ghost die. He’s not that selfish, never was.

Soap was the best of the best, most morally sound. He held his religion above many temptations. Infil was filled with chatter most of the time, except for soap, running his thumb over rosaries and whispering to a power long forgotten by the other men.

Exfil, a shell shocked soap would sit silently, or wail for not his mother, or ghost, but for someone, god maybe, to end his suffering. He was already going to hell, that’s what a priest told him at 15. He confessed and was told his punishment.

Never repeating that confession to anyone else, in fear of rejection. At 16 he carried his older cousin's casket in between the pews of that same church. He got home and told to man up. He turned 17 and enlisted.

That led to right now, soap covering his 6 and ghost shouting for help. A bullet lodged into his spine, blood gushing from the wound. His screams would’ve revealed his position if he cared anymore. There was no way he would get out of this. He just needed to get to a position he could radio to exfil from.

The enemy must’ve heard his screaming for Johnny, there was no response from soaps end. He must’ve been comprised.

The thundering footsteps we’re getting louder needed to move.

He pulled his hands above his head, chin resting on the ground. Looking up from under his eyebrows he saw about 20 meters until cover.

Pushing his arm to unbend he grabbed for purchase on the grass. He needed to pull himself forward to get to cover. His legs proving useless he grabbed a handful of grass and pulls. It rips.

He keeps trying to pull himself forward, but with every futile grasp comes a handfull of dirt and roots. The footsteps grow louder. He can’t die like this.

He screams in pain and frustration. Johnny is comprised, he’s comprised. It’s a solo mission, he needs to call exfil there’s no price here to scoop his useless self off the floor. He could cry. He won’t cry.

He grabbed a rock and pulled himself forward a foot. That’s okay, he’ll to cover soon. He’ll stay awake, he’ll stay strong. He will not cry.

Another idea comes to mind. He pulls 2 knives from his kit and stabs one into the dirt to use as a sort of handle.

One foot at a time he drags himself to the tree line. Sitting up to access his radio he leans on a tree.

He calls laswell. He needs exfil. He needs to leave. He’s losing blood, but he can’t feel it, he’ll pull through.

His eggs were twisted in horrible ways, he didn’t feel that pain, but he also couldn’t move them. He’ll be okay, he can just rest his eyes for a few minutes. His eyes were far to tired.

Nothing from soap. Nothing from laswell, there’s no point in staying awake, he’ll wake up to the radio transmission.

His eyes fall open again.

“-nom, SIMON! COME IN!” A young woman was on the other side of his radio.

“Mom? Mom I’m scared, I don’t want you to leave me here with him again.” It seemed he was crying.

“Simon who’s there, I’m coming, we need to know where you are.”

“Mommy I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I’m in the woods mom. Please don’t let him find me. He had a bat mom.” Drearily weeping through the radio was not something that elete SAS lieutenants do. But his mom was back, he missed her so much.

She tried her damn best, especially since he was stuck with his bummy ass father. She tended to his wounds whenever she was sober. She took beatings for him when he was too young to know he’s a man and he should be taking it. She wiped his tears whenever he came crying. Somehow it wasn’t enough.

He still had his tooth knocked out, he still was given drugs before he realized what they were. He still had to see that sex worker die. He still has to kiss that snake.

Haven forgotten about that snake until right now the hissing in his ear was not of any relief. It should’ve, it would mean his radio was working. His hands were too heavy to really hit the button to turn it on though.

Tears were not allowed though. The snake was in his ear, not biting his lip, his mom was talking to him. And Johnny would be back soon.

“Ghost, Simon, do you copy.”

“Mom I’m not alone anymore”

Crunching could he heard, a dark figure approaching him. He had a pistol. He shot the gun, but the bullet shot right next to his ear. He let himself relax, foolishly.

The man in front of him was his father, but his face was skewed. One part of it was his father, and the other half was of price. The side with price reached out and told him to calm down and stay awake. Then price was gone and it was just his father.

He was screaming, not Simon, Simon would recognize who was screaming and it wasn’t himself. A blow landed on his head, he saw it but didn’t feel it. His father was standing there, his mouth was moving but he wasn’t saying anything. Then he hissed like a snake. Mouth open he saw the snake that bit him all those years ago, he started screaming for real this time.

The snaked closed is mouth and then said something in Spainish. This man was none other than a cackling manual roba. Scalpel in one hand he laughed. The scar on his ribs flared up as he was called every insult under the sun. He was told to not fear as, it would feel so nice soon.

Turning his head out of the grasp roba has on his face he was met with Vernon’s rotting skeletal face. There was dirt in his eyes, ears, mouth, nose. He was buried.

“GHOST!”

“Mom? Save me.”

“Ghost who’s with you right now.”

He opens his eyes, praying he can see at the end of this all. Scratched corneas would end his career, and his career is all that he had left.

In front of him, soap was sitting, thumbing his rosaries and mumbling a prayer. Without greeting he looks up. “Simon, I’ve missed you.”

“Ghost. I repeat, who is with you?”

“Johnny. Bye mommy, I’ll see you soon.”

With his final goodbye to the only person to truly love him, he can rest.

“Simon, I loved you too.” A Scottish lilt was the last thing he heard before the world went silent. He laid his head on the tree and closed his eyes. He hoped that Johnny was in the next 7 minutes. And price and Gaz. Maybe he can finally see them again too. Laswell will join them at some point. Then they can meet her wife. Maybe she’ll have kids after retirement.

He hoped he was happy.

Ghost was found 2 days later. Soaps rosary in his pocket and tear tracks running down his face wiping off the eye black.

Task force 141 was together, earthly and in spirit. Buried in the national cemetery one next to the other.

#fanfic #ghoap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ao3 #cod mw2 #call of duty #ao3 crosspost #kate laswell #agnst #heavy angst #main character death #don’t like don’t read

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dfortrafalgar · 7 hours

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Looooooved ILY! Kudos! It was chair-gripping, tear drenching, rot your teeth fluffy and a bunch of other things in between! Brava! 🥰

If you're still accepting requests (I don't know if you have already been flooded by messages or not) I would like a story about being part of the Kid Pirates but reader is in a really sour mood because it's the anniversary of readers's parents death (you can make up a story if you'd like) and reader disobeys a direct order from him and, to top it off, reader talks back at him in front of the crew, earning the reader a severe punishment (up to you). Eventually Kid finds out why reader's mood is so sour and tries to talk it out except Kid can't be soft and that just makes things more awkward. Could be SFW, could be NSFW, I'm leaving all this up to you. And the ending as well because I only got that far. I hope you like the idea and get excited.

I love your work! ❤️🥰 Thank you for sharing your talent.

HI ANON!!! thank you so much for your request and your super kind words over IMLY, that means so much to me!!!! i know i keep saying this but yall make me smile every single day when i log onto tumblr and see your messages <3

I also really loved writing this request! i really love Kid, but i also wanna kick his ass on the playground if that makes sense, and i think that sentiment came through in my writing ;w; I hope you like it!!! and thank you again!!! (Also, i kept the reason for your parents' death ambiguous, because i know some people (myself included) read fics with their ocs in mind, so you're free to fill in the vagueness with your own personal ideas if you want!)

Feeling Overhaul

Eustass Kid x Fem Reader

The anniversary of your parents' death always leaves you feeling shallow, but your boyfriend's lack of social and situational awareness crops up to make your day even worse.

Warnings: SFW, hurt/comfort, reader being understandably upset, descriptions of an argument with some veeeeery slight verbal abuse, once again hurt/comfort, hurt/comfort. communication is key loves

Your sour mood had been steadily building over the last few days, but your sorrow reached its peak on the last day of the week, according to the barely legible crew calendar that was based off of when the messenger coos arrived with the weekly paper. It was a day you despised thinking about, the memories associated with the day leaving your throat tight, an uncomfortable malaise in the pit of your stomach.

All things considered, you thought you were doing a decent job at keeping your emotions in check while performing your usual duties on the Victoria Punk. The bow of the deck needed a thorough scrubbing, a few spots in the walls of the crow’s nest needed repairs from a recent run in with a smaller, weaker pirate crew, and a few secondary sails needed their holes patched up. It was a perfect day to distract yourself from your woes. Drowning your discontent in your work had become quite a valuable skill.

Until you slipped on the soap that lathered the hard wood of the bow and fell flat on your ass. When trying to stand, your hands gave out under you and you hit the deck once more, one of your crew mates tossing you anxious glances as you struggled to regain your bearings. Climbing up to the crow’s nest, you were plagued with a sudden wash of grief over the day, so much so that you lost your grip and slipped down the Jacobs ladder, your foot catching on one of the wooden rungs beneath you. Wire was directly under you, climbing as well to assist with the crow’s nest repairs, and his method of helping you after your slip involved gripping your arm so hard it left a bruise. You bit back your tears at the pain of your crewmate’s hand around your limb and the humiliation of almost falling 12 feet onto the hard wooden hull, but you once again bit back your shame and finished your arduous climb up.

By the afternoon, word had gotten around the Victoria Punk that your work was lacking, that you were clearly struggling with something, that perhaps you weren’t feeling well. When it finally got around to Captain Eustass Kid, who doubled as your beloved partner, he was less than pleased.

The last thing he wanted to do was deal with your emotions, and the last thing you wanted to do was deal with his abrasive, apathetic attitude.

“Care to explain why the hell the entire crew has caught you slacking off today?” he demanded, thundering toward you in one of the upper corridors of the ship’s hull. You were still returning some of the tools you had used to patch up the ship’s sails when he accosted you in the hallway. It was almost dinner hour, and many of the crew were bustling through the same corridors finishing their afternoon tasks before meal time.

“What?” you snapped back, caught off guard by his threatening question.

“Don’t ‘What’ me. Why have you been tripping and falling everywhere? What kind of joke are you trying to play?” His face was angry, livid even, not granting you even one second to explain your plight.

Your eyebrows furrowed. “I’m not trying to bumble around the boat like an idiot. I’m just not feeling well and haven’t been able to focus.”

Kid scoffed. “Then get over it.”

Perhaps you were being irrational, but at the same time, you had officially had enough of the entire day. You dropped your supplies on the floor around your feet, heat radiating off of your body in waves. “What did you just say to me?”

Your captain bent down to be at your level, which was insulting to your current state. “Get. Over. It.”

Anger boiled in your lungs, lighting your heart on fire, blinding the corners of your vision with a fuzzy white light. You tried to turn your back to him and escape down the corridor, but yelped when Kid grabbed your wrist and pulled you back toward him.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong with you?” he asked. He really couldn’t control the sound of his voice, regardless of his current emotion, and the volume of his shouts filling the space made your body tense up in fear. Eyes watching the scene unfold around you widened.

Around the corner behind Kid’s back, Killer darted forward, alerted to the sounds emanating from the narrow passage. “Kid, chill out!”

“Are you going to care about me any more if I tell you?” you demanded back, trying to pull your wrist away from his grip. His flesh hand held firm, however, almost burning your skin. He shrugged Killer’s own hand off of his shoulder forcefully, completely ignoring his friend’s plea to calm himself somewhat.

Kid rolled his eyes. “It better be damn important if it’s got you almost falling off of the Jacobs ladder.”

You steeled yourself, sucking in an uneasy breath and facing your stubborn partner head on. “Today’s the anniversary of my parents’ death. I’ve never been able to feel alright when I think about them.”

There was a brief, uncomfortable silence that floated between the two of you, the air in the hallway thrumming with a suffocating tension. Kid’s grip finally relaxed on your wrist, allowing you to yank it away and rub your sore skin. His red-painted lips finally parted, and all he graced your ear drums with was, “That’s it?”

Your heart dropped. “What do you mean ‘that’s it’?”

“Parents die all the time. What makes today so different?” His narrow eyes were back to their scathing glare.

At this point, however, you had had enough. You were practically shaking with a barely contained rage of your own as you stepped closer to your captain and spat in his face, causing him to stagger backward, giving you enough space to let your emotions bubble outward. “I don’t have to tell you shit if you’re going to talk to me like that! In front of the entire crew?! Just because you’re my captain doesn’t mean you get the excuse to accost me in the hallway and berate me for slipping a few times.” You frantically dug through your brain for words to add to your outburst, perhaps asking how he had the sheer gall to have such an attitude toward you despite dropping his walls and being so kind toward you on an average day, but all you could muster in response was, “Fuck you, Kid.”

You stepped away from him, narrowly missing another one of his lunges to get you to stay. His voice was low and intimidating. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Then don’t tell me that my day of grieving is stupid! Fuck! You!” you spat back, finally turning on your heels and sprinting out of his reach, down the hallway and into the ladder well into the lower deck, desperate to get as far away from your captain as possible. You knew he was prone to struggling with empathy, and kindness had never been one of his strong suits, but to be talked to in such a way, have your feelings belittled after you had almost severely injured yourself as a consequence of your lacking mental health, hurt more than a stab to the liver.

Kid’s burning gaze followed you as you fled, harshly turning on his own heels to slink to the galley and drown his frustrations in whatever liquor the crew had acquired from the last island. He bumped Killer’s shoulder, forcing the blonde to the side. The crew watched as their captain rounded the corner out of sight.

---

You didn’t arrive for the dinner call, your usual seat left unfilled and the plate uneaten. A few crew mates who hadn’t witnessed the explosive scene from an hour ago asked around for your whereabouts, but the only one who bothered to stand up and search for you was Quincy who quickly ate her meal and abandoned the table.

Kid was pounding back alcohol like no one’s business, leading to many a concerned glance.

“Kid,” Killer muttered. He rested his masked head in his hand, desperate for context at what he had previously run in on. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” the red-head grumbled, throwing back another mug of golden beer, some of it dribbling down the side of his mouth.

The few straggling crew members who remained around the large dining table shared worried looks.

“It’s clearly not nothing,” Killer countered.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” snapped Kid. Even at the age of 23, he was still no better than a bratty little child when things didn’t go his way.

Killer dropped the subject with a sigh, the sound escaping the holes in his mask with a subdued hiss.

Quincy, on the other hand, carefully opened the door to the women’s bunk room where she found you, curled on your side on the mattress that used to belong to you when you first joined the Kid Pirates, your face buried in a pillow and your shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

“Darling,” she cooed, silently tapping across the floor to sit on the side of the bed, her gentle hand ghosting over your arm. “What happened? Why didn’t you come to dinner?”

The sound of her voice unraveled you from your coil, your tear-stained face and puffy red eyes meeting her concerned stare. “Kid and I had a fight,” was all you said.

“About?”

You rolled onto your back, clutching the pillow that was thoroughly drenched in your salty tears to your abdomen. “Today’s the anniversary of my parents’ death, and when Kid asked me what was wrong, he told me, ‘What makes today so different, parents die all the time.’ Like…?” your voice wavered, “Who says that? And to his girlfriend nonetheless!”

Quincy made a disappointed tsk sound with her tongue, sympathetically rubbing your arm through the sleeve of your shirt. “Honey, he’s stupid. But still, he was wrong to speak to you like that.”

You sniffled, wiping some snot from your face with the arm that wasn’t being caressed by your close friend. “I know… but it still hurts. I wish he could just… I don’t know… be nicer to me?”

For what it was worth, both of you knew that Kid wasn’t truly ‘stupid.’ He was strong, strategic, and resilient, but when it came to matters of the heart, his brain dwarfed to the size of a peanut. It was only a matter of getting the headstrong captain to realize how he had truly hurt you.

“Honey, sleep in here for a few nights to get a proper rest, away from him,” Quincy offered, standing up from her seat on your mattress to approach one of the wardrobes, pulling out a comfortable shirt and baggy pants to relax in. “Let this blow over for a little while, and then you can try to talk it out with him. We can help if you need it.”

You sat up yourself, gratefully taking the clothing from her arms, a small smile on your lips. “Thanks, Quin.”

The curly-haired woman left the bunkhouse to let you change, passing by Killer trudging through the hallway, a towel draped over his scarred arm. “Hey, have you talked to Kid?”

“He’s drunk off his ass right now,” Killer grumbled, dragging his free hand down his mask in a display of exasperation. “I couldn’t get him to tell me what happened, but he’s gonna be out of it for the rest of the evening.”

Quincy bit the inside of her cheek as she assessed the first mate’s message. “I’ll tell you.”

---

It had been about three days since the argument Kid had blasted you with in front of your crew mates, your humiliation and anger toward your captain burning a hole into your lungs. You couldn’t contain your tears for at least six hours after your initial outburst, the grief of losing your parents in the way you had all those years ago now partnered with the anguish of screaming at Kid… and spitting on his face. The act was so beneath you, and yet. Dive and Hip, who had seen the argument first-hand, had helped to assure you that you weren’t in the wrong for what you had said, reassuring your stance that Kid was far too intimidating when all he wanted was a simple answer for your strange behavior.

Heat had come to you with a covered plate containing the dinner you had missed, informing you that Kid still had a very poor system of managing his emotions. While you understood this first hand, being his partner for the better part of a year, you still didn’t believe that was a proper excuse to diminish your emotions in the way he had.

After those three days of your absence, strategically avoiding him at all hours of the day, Kid was fed up. He needed to talk. His bed was too empty without you.

Killer told him it would be a bad idea to call you to his quarters, but he did it anyway. And when your anxious knocking reverberated through the thick wooden door of his cabin, he was quick to call your name and grant you entry.

You stepped in, shutting the door softly behind you, keeping your head low. Kid stood from his mattress, clearing the floor in broad steps and trying his best to lay on the charm, wrapping his large arm around you and cooing his best, casual greeting, “Hey, babe, I’ve missed you.”

You shrugged yourself away from him, your eyes downcast. You looked… hollow. “Did you want something from me, captain?”

Kid felt a foreign pang deep in his chest. You hadn’t been referring to him as your boyfriend or partner. Right now, he was strictly ‘captain,’ and that notion left him feeling far too empty and vulnerable for his liking.

Fuck, he wasn’t good at this in any way.

Your gaze bore scorching holes into his own eyes, silently demanding the apology that you knew you deserved to hear from him. With a deep sigh, Kid turned around and stomped back to his mattress, dropping his head into his hands.

“I didn’t know your parents died,” he blurted.

You stayed quiet.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” His voice was a low grumble.

You suppressed a scoff. “How about, ‘Sorry for yelling at you in front of the crew?’ Or, ‘I’m sorry for saying that your feelings don’t matter.’ Something like that, maybe.” Your voice, in comparison, was eerily level, your time to be physically upset with the situation having expired two days ago. Now all you were left with was an uncomfortable feeling of unease, a hole in your heart where Kid usually sat now being emptied and replaced with a barren cavern that desperately wished to be occupied by the man you loved once more.

Because you really did love him. You knew his lifestyle, his behaviors, his tendencies toward cruelty. And yet, he remained kind toward you. He allowed you to open up to him and did the same in turn, and he nestled himself perfectly, albeit clumsily, into your life. You didn’t want to lose that.

Watching as Kid clearly struggled forming those two little words on his tongue was like watching someone perform self-surgery. His pride had impeded his sense of empathy for so long that the simple notion of apologizing was such an estranged concept for him.

How stunted.

But you held firm, remaining in front of his closed door as he kept his head in his hand, his thick fingers teasing through his slightly greasy red hair. After what felt like an eternity, he finally picked his head up. “I’m sorry.”

There it was.

He continued, sucking in a shaky breath. “I really didn’t know it was the anniversary of your family’s death. I wish I asked you about it sooner instead of… that.”

You stayed quiet.

“... Instead of yelling at you like that. And attacking you for something that was out of your control.” He kept his voice low, as if he was carefully picking out his words from a small bucket inside his thick skull.

After a few uncomfortable moments of silence, you released the tension in your shoulders with a sigh. “And I’m sorry for spitting on you. And for cursing you out.”

“No, you shouldn’t apologize,” Kid stated, finally picking up his head and gazing at you, his eyebrows furrowed. “I deserved it, really.” His fingers anxiously rubbed the rough fabric of his pants. “Killer sat me down and gave me a bit of a beat down. Physically and verbally. Because I know I’m not good at this. I’m not a good person. And I really fucked up with you.”

You remained firm with your feelings, but you finally approached his bed and sat next to him, leaving a comfortable gap between your bodies that your captain, your partner, didn’t try to close. He kept his distance from you, silently ensuring that you were allowed, and encouraged, to open up to him when you were the most comfortable.

“I just want to make sure that you actually mean it,” you whispered. “And that you’re not just saying that without believing it.”

“I mean it,” Kid confirmed, his voice unwavering. “I really do.”

You gazed at him apprehensively. “... Promise?”

Silently, Kid held out his pinky toward you.

You looked at his finger, confusion glossing your features. “What are you doing?”

“Have you never made a pinky promise before?” he asked.

Your mouth threatened to curl into a small smile. “Can’t say that I have.”

Kid released his hand only so he could take yours, folding your fingers down so only your own pinky stuck out from your fist. He repeated the motion with his own hand, curling his smallest digit around your own. “It’s a promise that I mean what I said. Killer and I used to do this all the time as kids.”

Your composure finally broke as you snorted, your own finger curling around his. “That’s sweet…”

“The point is that, if I break the promise, you get to break my finger,” he explained.

“Suddenly everything makes sense,” you uttered, your lips finally curling into a grin. “Don’t give me an excuse to break your finger.”

In response to your lighthearted plea, Kid raised his hand with yours still attached and pulled back down in a handshake gesture. “Never.”

Your finger stayed curled around his as you gazed at your hand. “I’m still kind of upset with you.”

Kid’s shoulders stiffened. “I get why.” After you stayed silent for a few extra moments, he finally asked, “What can I do to make it up to you?”

Your eyes bore into his once more, his gaze remaining steady as well. “You can start by not jumping to conclusions… or being accusatory without any context.” You sighed. “I’m not telling you to change your entire personality, Kid, because I know who you are. And I fell in love with the normal, regular You. But I just ask for a little bit of kindness.”

Kid released your pinky in order to lace his entire hand with yours. “I’ll give you more than a little.”

“Or I can break your pinky?” you asked once more, another small smile breaking out on your face.

Your partner grinned. “I’ll throw myself overboard if you ask.”

You finally closed the gap between your bodies, tentatively laying your head on his shoulder. “No… I wouldn’t want to lose you like that.”

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #eustass kid x reader #eustass captain kid x reader #eustass captain kidd #eustass kid #one piece kid #request fics

28 notes · View notes

arson4kids · 1 day

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𝒜𝓇𝓂𝓎 𝒟𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓇𝓈 ⋆

warnings: sorry y'all this fic is ANGSTY, multi-part series (it's gonna get better trust), bad writing (sue me), mentions of heavy drinking & (light) drug use, mentions of depression, mentions of blood & death, PTSD/panic attacks, ellie needs a hug, more closed off ellie and reader, ellie and reader were never really friends, reader isn't masc or fem (sorry), eventual smut. NOT PROOF READ.

wc: 1620

approx. read time: 12.5 minutes

a/n: sorry i disappeared to those who follow me/read my fics on occasion. i've had zero motivation to write lately. this is more to set the stage for the rest of the series so there isn't much dialog. go easy on me yall i barely write stuff on here.

synopsis: Ellie, having been gone in Santa Barbara for so long, doesn't get the warm welcome she was hoping for. In fact, she's become more of a stranger in her own home that she wonders if she should have never come back. Without means of escape from this new hellish reality...she turns to you for help.

The day she came back couldn't have gone worse. Everyone thought she had died, and you were starting to wonder if people wished she did. Her arrival into Jackson was met with nothing but hostility. Dina refused to speak to her, let alone look at her. The sight was surely something to behold. A once beloved member of the small survivor's community now shunned and shut out. You couldn't say you were surprised.

The day she had left Dina had taken up her things and her young son and marched right back into Jackson. She wasted no time telling everyone exactly what happened. It was safe to say Tommy and Maria didn't last long after that. People stopped regarding Ellie as a mourning girl trying to find closure. She was looking more and more like a monster in the eyes of the town the longer time passed. People began to blame her for the death of Jesse and Dina's growing depression. Some people even came to blame her for Tommy and Maria's separation. The town was already in shambles before she came back. And it was safe to say her return didn't help.

Now, you couldn't say you knew her personally. Sure the two of you hung out and got drunk on occasion after patrols. She would invite you over every once in a while to watch cheesy action movies with her. You'd help her in the stables when she needed it. You considered her a friend of sorts, but you two weren't close by any means. You couldn't even recall her favorite colour. But that didn't prove to soothe the dull ache in your chest as Maria yelled at her openly out in the town's square. You swore you saw a tear drop from the auburn haired girl's eye. She had gone through so much, but who were you to comfort her? That wouldn't get you anywhere. Once Maria finished speaking Ellie held her head up despite everything, marching past you and the others without a second glance. You didn't know how long this would last. Hopefully not long.

Despite her efforts, she couldn't do anything anymore. She was forbidden to go on patrols. Maria even refused to put her on farming rotation. She was forced to live fully isolated from everybody. Even when she did leave the house, nobody treated her like they once did. A passing glance from an older woman. Children bowing their heads and diverting their gazes. Dina pulled her curtains shut when Ellie so much as looked in her direction. Even Kat was avoiding her like the plague. So when you were the last one on the block that wasn't turning and running...you gave her a small smile.

At first, she didn't seem to care. She'd bow her head or give you a small nod. Possibly a passing grunt. But as time went on she began warming up to you. Maybe it was because she had no one else. Maybe she was desperate. Whatever it was, you were all she had. Well, not really. All she had in her mind was her whiskey and her thoughts to keep her company. You could smell it on her breath when she walked by. You could sometimes even pick up traces of...weed? Was she ever sober anymore? You doubted it. You almost couldn't blame her.

The days began to fade into weeks and Ellie got no better. She barely left the house anymore, when she did it was merely to get wasted and go back home. You could feel your stomach twisting into knots whenever you saw her stumbling back out onto the streets some afternoons after your patrol. She barely looked like herself anymore. She was thin. Her once fair skin now holding a sickly glow to it. The circles under her eyes only got darker the more she drank. She'd surely drink herself straight to the grave at this rate. Could she even care? You couldn't be sure.

Despite your friend urging you not to, you followed the pale girl into the bar one evening. You had to see the end of this. You couldn't give a flying fuck what people thought about you after this. You weren't going to sit by and watch this once spirited girl drink herself away just because everyone else could. How could you live with yourself if you did?

It didn't take you very long to spot her once you were in there. The bar was mostly empty as it usually was on weekdays, only a few drunk men were silently slumped over tables or aimlessly chatting each other up. The dull buzz of conversation didn't distract you as you watched her sitting alone in the back corner. Her hand on her cheek, she sat silently as she tried to eat some crackers, an already empty glass of whiskey by her left hand. The sight was so pitiful in itself you almost couldn't watch.

Taking a deep breath and forcing all your doubts aside, you slowly approached her table. Her eyes were quick to follow you even before you got close enough to speak. It made you uneasy as you took the seat across from her. She furrowed her brow, maybe out of confusion. You couldn't tell. You quickly cleared your throat to hopefully ease the sudden tension between the two of you. It hung heavily in the air, much like the smoke of an old cigar. Overbearing. Suffocating.

"Hey." You finally forced yourself to choke out, trying to play it cool. Ellie set her cracker aside, meeting your gaze.

"Hey." She replied, her tone much like yours. Unsure. You felt bad for her. How could you not.

"How's it going?" You asked, as if it wasn't already obvious. You wanted to kick yourself as you heard the auburn haired girl scoff and straighten herself out in her chair. You half expected her to yell at you and tell you to leave her alone so her response caught you off guard.

"Y'know. Just great." She laughed bitterly. Your heart swelled with guilt. Maybe this went deeper than you thought.

"Do you maybe want to talk about it?"

"About what?"

You thought a moment before responding, swallowing a lump in your throat you didn't even know was there.

"What happened...out there."

Ellie furrowed her brow as you spoke. You could hear her tapping her heal against the cool wooden floor of the bar.

"You mean in Santa Barbara?" Ellie simply shook her head.

"I don't think so."

Her response, while you were slightly disappointed, was expected. You didn't expect her to open up to you.

"Well is there anything I can do so you don't have to do this?" You asked, gesturing to the empty glass of whiskey. Ellie glanced up at you. She almost seemed surprised you brought it up. A nervous pit formed in your stomach as the silence returned. Her sudden shift in attitude told you all that you had to know. She couldn't trust you. And you wouldn't force her to. You stood to leave and almost yelped when you felt a sudden warm hand clasp around your wrist. You were saddened when you met Ellie's near desperate gaze when you looked back over to her. Her grip on you tightened as her eyes suddenly welled up with tears.

"Please..." She nearly whimpered. "Don't leave me alone."

You never expected this from her, considering how aloof she was normally. You gently loosened her grip on your arm.

"Do you want to come home with me? We can watch Jurassic Park or some shit."

When you invited her back to watch a movie, you didn't think it'd end with her sobbing into your chest as she spilled all the gruesome details of the past few years to you. She told you about Joel's death and how that led to the events of Seattle, her time at the farm with Dina and how she thought she would stay there forever before she left for Santa Barbara. With each of her hot tears against your skin brought a new story from her. You almost thought she was having a panic attack thanks to how much and how long she had been sobbing. You didn't have the heart to stop her. All you could do is hold her against you and hope that you were providing her with a small amount of comfort just by being there. You would have sat up with her all night if she asked you to. You almost did until the poor girl ended up falling asleep right in your arms from sheer exhaustion. You didn't have the heart to push her away.

From that night on, Ellie stayed with you. She had made herself at home slowly in your guest bedroom. She finally started to heal. People were starting to lessen up on her, even if it was only slightly. That almost didn't matter to her anymore thanks to your ongoing support. She even had the chance to formally talk to Dina and see her son again. All of this started to lull Ellie into a form of peace she never thought she'd reach again. It brought you peace as well.

While all of this was going on, you couldn't help but notice how much closer Ellie was getting to you. It started with friendly greetings and holding your hand to her talking to you late at night while she played with your hair. You were stating to question what she meant to you. What you meant to her. You almost felt guilty for thinking you were anything more than just a friend to her. But, only time could tell, right?

#Spotify #multiple part series #ellie x y/n #ellie x reader #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie x you #idk what else to tag #can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars #? i guess #angst with a happy ending

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apocalypticwafflekitten · 2 years

Text

Safe in Your Arms

James Wesley x Reader

A/N: Basically I watched Daredevil and my hand slipped. Listened to Someone to Stay by Vancouver Sleep Clinic while writing if y’all want to join in the vibes!

Original Imagine/ Summary Thingy: You’re Vanessa’s niece/nephew and you have a lil crush on Wesley and maybe, just maybe, he has a lil crush on you too. (Originally this was written with a fem!reader, but I changed it around a bit and it should be gender neutral now. But if there are any gendered terms still in there, let me know!)

Warnings: Mentions and discussion of kidnapping, mentions of blood, mentions of insomnia, overwhelming amounts of fluff, Wesley being Soft™️, things get a lil, slightly steamy there for a minute, but nothing sexual!

Word Count: 3620

This wasn’t exactly how you had intended to spend your night. The living room was dark, save for the light of the TV and the ambient, yellow glow from the corner lamp. You were curled up on your sofa, eyes to the TV. Your mind however, was drifting far away from whatever movie was on, and swirling with hazy memories of a dark warehouse and the crooked, smiling men that had taken you there.

Your apartment’s squeaky wooden floors brought you from your reverie, having only enough time to notice a quiet creak behind you before you heard a familiar, deep voice.

“What are you doing up?”

You turned toward the small hallway in your apartment and there you found Wesley in the doorway, dressed in soft-looking pajama pants and a Pink Floyd t-shirt. It was a jarring difference from the suits you were used to seeing him in, but you were happy for it. Something about seeing him in such…normal, unassuming pajamas made your heart flutter and your cheeks warm. You’d expected silk pajamas or something like that, but instead you got soft pants and a band t-shirt and you swore he’d never looked more handsome. You took a moment to entertain the idea of Wesley at a concert, belting “inset song title” at the top of his lungs and made a mental note to ask him if he’d ever seen them live.

“Oh, hey Wes. I uh, I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t stop thinking about the warehouse.” You answered quietly, subconsciously rubbing over a bruise on your arm as you spoke. Wesley’s sudden appearance had momentarily pulled you from your thoughts, but that moment was gone and the warehouse once again consumed your thoughts.

You must have been quiet for a while because when you looked back at Wesley, he was watching you with a worried look - brows upturned and everything. So you shook yourself back into reality and asked him the first thing that came to mind, “What’s got you up this late?”

He was quiet for a moment before speaking - his eyes swept over you as you awaited his response.

“Insomnia. A relatively new development, but nothing I can’t deal with.” Once again, he paused, hesitation lingering in the silence, “Is there…anything I can do to help you?”

“Um, I think I’m okay. Just scared I guess. Even now that I’m home,” you sigh, your shoulders drooping with your exhale, ”I’m sorry you have to deal with that by the way. It’s gotta suck.”

“It’s not too bad. Like I said, it’s nothing I can’t handle,” Wesley responds, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “What's on your mind? What’s keeping you up?” He asks, stepping closer to the couch, his socks padding softly on the hardwood floor.

“It’s silly stuff,” you start, looking away from him and fiddling with your hands, “Well, I guess it’s not really silly since I did get kidnapped, but I’m just…I’m scared that it’ll happen again. I know Fisk promised my safety, Hell, that’s why you're here” you paused for a brief moment, “But I can’t stop worrying that someone will figure out how to get to me again. I can’t stop thinking about the warehouse; I can’t get the image out of my head. Every time I see the bruises in the mirror I’m back in that chair and I-I don’t ever want to go back there. I mean, I was there for days. They’d come in and taunt me, and they’d laugh when I begged them to stop. Sometimes they’d come in and beat me around just because they could.” You paused to regain your composure with a few shaky breaths, then continued, “I’d never felt so isolated. It was terrifying. I-I don’t wanna be alone like that again.” By the time you’d finished speaking your voice was beginning to tremble, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. You hadn’t even noticed Wesley moving until he sat next to you.

He moved carefully, reaching for your hands once he’d sat down. He looked you right in your eyes and he held your hands softly, as if anything more would cause you to flinch away from him. His voice was firm with sincerity as he spoke your name, “No one will ever get to you again. And you will never have to be alone again. I-,” he caught himself, then let go of a breath, “We will keep you safe.”

You gave him a small smile and squeezed his hands, “Thank you Wesley.”

“Of course,” he scoots just a little closer to you, running his thumb across the back of your hand, “Would you like some company? Since neither of us are sleeping tonight?”

“I'd like that. Yeah.” you respond with a small smile, scooting closer yourself.

Wesley smiles and keeps hold of your hands as he moves to the other end of the couch, only letting go when you can’t reach any further. He settles in the corner and pats the seat next to him.

“C’mere.”

You don’t think about it. Or what it might mean. Or what he means. You don’t care what’s implied when you all but rush to sit right beside him with a new warmth in your gut. All you think about is how warm he is and how comfy you feel when you lean your head on his shoulder, settling in to watch the rest of whatever movie was on.

"Thank you for staying with me by the way. It does help after everything." You quietly confess after a moment.

"I'm glad to stay if it means you feel safe." Wesley assured, a gentle warmth in his voice.

You were quiet for a beat, but eventually spoke up with a quiet huffed laugh,

“I was worried it might annoy you honestly. I mean, you’re staying here a whole week just to make sure I don’t get kidnapped again. I feel like I’m wasting your time.”

Wesley turns to you with a concerned, bewildered look, “You are never a waste of my time. Whether it’s being told to stay with you for a week to ensure your safety, or stopping by to say hi while you're working at the pool hall, any time I spend with you is time well spent.” Wesley has this warm smile on his face that’s so sincere you couldn't doubt what he’d said if you wanted to.

You don’t really have any response to that except a small nod, and Wesley is surprised by his own sincerity, so you both turn back to the TV and he smiles when he feels you return your head to rest on his shoulder.

It’s a few minutes later when he oh so sneakily wraps his arm around your shoulder. You can’t help the beam of happiness that surges through you and lands in a smile on your face.

Wesley’s heart is beating erratically. He hopes you can’t hear it as he wraps himself around you. He thinks he’d die if you knew how this closeness makes him tremble. He’d never be able to look at you again if you saw the blush on his face, God you were so warm and soft and holding you was everything in the world.

“You know, Fisk tore up the city looking for you.” Wesley began unprompted, as if the words just burst from him regardless of whether he wanted them to or not, “The moment Vanessa called saying you were missing - I've never seen him look that scared. He had everyone on his payroll looking for you."

"Even you?" You queried.

"Yes, even me." He smiled down at you once again, giving your shoulder a small squeeze.

There was a beat of silence. You smiled at a memory and took hold of Wesley’s hand, interlocking your fingers without really thinking about it.

“You wanna know something Wes?"

"What?"

"You're the first thing I remember seeing when I woke up. I was tied to that chair in the warehouse, and you were telling me that everything would be alright. The light above me was so bright, but you kept saying that I was safe. I remember feeling your hand on my face and feeling - believing - that I was safe." You leaned closer to him, rubbing your thumb across his palm.

"You smiled a bit when you woke up." Wesley recalled fondly, although the memory had now gleaned a new weight within him.

“I did.” A knowing smile broke out on your face and it made Wesley weak. Even through the dim lighting in your living room, he could see how bright your eyes were and the happiness held within them. He wanted to hold that smile on your face forever. Just the thought that he was the reason you were smiling like that made him want to jump for joy and tell everyone who would listen: ‘hey I did that! Look at what I did!’

“Hey Wes, can I ask you a question?”

It took him a second to come back, your voice pulling him back to the present.

“Uh yeah-yeah, sure.”

You didn’t seem to notice him stumbling over his sentence. You just looked down at your hands as you spoke. “I just-I’ve noticed, since you’ve been here, that you’re always kinda…tense? You seem like you haven’t relaxed at all since I was brought back home. I know you’re still on the job technically, but- y’know- “

The sentence slowly died on your tongue, but Wesley knew what you were asking. He looked away from you, down to his lap as if he would find an answer etched in the weave of his pajama pants. It took him a moment to find his words, and even then, you could hardly hear him.

“It’s…hard to relax knowing you could still be in danger.” Wesley’s voice was quiet - barely a whisper. He didn’t meet your eyes. His were stuck on the bruise that smudged itself across your forearm. His brows drew together as his thumb came to trace its outline. It seemed his mind was elsewhere, thinking about the warehouse just as you had been before.

But with a gentle dip of your head and your hand coming to stop his tracing, you catch his eyes and give him a small smile, “If it makes any difference, I always feel safe when you’re around.”

It took a second for that to sink in. He visibly buffered when he heard what you’d said.

“You do?” His voice was soft and full of disbelief. “Why?”

“Well, for one thing, you’ve always got a gun in your back pocket” you laugh a little and he can’t help the smile that breaks out on his face, “but really, you’ve always felt safe to me. Of course, you’re Fisk’s right hand man so that helps, but aside from that it feels like no matter what happens you’ll always be able to keep me safe. Like you’ll always be there for me.

He paused, visibly shaken by your response.

“Can I tell you something?” Your name fell off his lips in a quiet whisper,

“Of course.” You respond, and Wesley can see hope in your eyes.

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing followed. Instead, he looked at your face. Your beautiful eyes, your soft lips. He couldn't think of anything to say.

Before he realized it, his hand had reached for your face, and he found himself holding your cheek, his thumb swiping gently across your face. He was in awe. There was something so tender about the soft way you rested your head in his hand. He felt you lean your weight into his hold and he swore his heart melted right there. Something soft and mushy took place in his chest and he never wanted that feeling to go away. He just wanted you, like this, for the rest of time.

He hadn’t realized that he was leaning into you until your noses brushed together. He pulled back a little, but when he noticed you’d followed him, and that your eyes were closed, he dipped to your lips and kissed you.

He felt your lips move against his and their soft press spurred him on. He let out a heavy, shuddering breath as his hands came to frame your face, both of them cradling your head with adoring gentleness. He kissed you harder, hungry to know the curve of your lips - to memorize it and feel it tingle against his own whenever he thought of you.

And thinking of you brought him back to reality. He realized all too quick what he was doing and pulled away, regretting it the second he did. He couldn’t look you in the eye. His cheeks flushed, embarrassment set aflame in his gut.

“I’m sorry. I-I should have asked first. That wasn’t particularly considerate of me, I-“

“Wes,” You cut off his spiraling apology with a small smile and a squeeze of his hand.

His eyes met yours and they were hopeful.

“Kiss me again.”

He gave you an incredulous smile, but didn’t hesitate a moment otherwise. He held the back of your neck and pulled you into him, kissing you with the fervor held in a long-pining heart.

You smiled. You smiled because of him. Again. And he felt it against his lips. He felt your hands lay themselves against his chest, one hand sneaking up to play with the curls at the base of his neck.

A soft moan escaped him when you gave his hair a tiny tug, and you couldn’t help but chuckle against his lips.

You were caught off guard when he pulled away, but when he dipped down to place a kiss on your bruised collarbone, and then the bruise on your arm, the surprise dissipated and your heart melted. He kissed every bruise he could see, mumbling against your skin as he did so.

“I swear this will never happen again. I’ll kiss every bruise away and when they’re gone, I’ll lay kisses where they were so those spots never know pain again. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

You didn’t know what to say, but when he leaned up, meeting your eyes, you nodded to let him know you understood.

When every bruise was kissed - some even kissed twice - Wesley leaned back up, held the side of your face once more, and kissed you again.

He felt so much in that moment. Anger toward your captors who dared to lay their hands on you. Worry for your safety. He wanted to wipe every bruise off your skin as if they were just smudged makeup and help you heal after what happened at the warehouse. And yet, he’d never been happier in his life. He was kissing you. Every ounce of passion he’d ever felt paled in comparison to the bright, shining warmth that was bursting from his chest in this moment. He never wanted to stop touching you. And he never wanted to go another moment without feeling your hands on him. He wanted to feel your hands on his face, his chest, in his hair. He wanted you all around him.

His lips felt swollen when he pulled away, and yours looked like they might bruise. He’d kissed you hard and you seem to have done the same to him. The both of you took a minute to breathe - watching the heavy breaths expand through each other's chests.

But after a moment, when you both were breathing normally again, Wesley spoke what he had been thinking.

“I didn’t say it before, but I’m happy that you feel safe when I’m around.”

You smiled at him and took his hands in yours, “You know what Wes?”

“What?”

“I feel even safer in your arms.”

~~~~~~~~~

TAGS!

@justalittletomato @fanficsforheartandsoul

#james wesley #james wesley x reader #ive been sitting on this one for a long time #and ive finally finished it!#Ive been wanting to get it written for a while now and I'm excited to finally get it out there!#I hope yall like this one as much as I do!

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cashmoneyyysstuff · 4 months

Text

déjà vu

déjà vu : a french term that translates to "already seen." It is a phenomenon where an individual feels a strong sense of familiarity or recognition with a current situation.

bnha chap. 362 n 403 spoilers ! childhood friends to lovers can you tell i'm inlove with this trope oooorrr…, angsty?? bittersweet hurt/comfort ?? fem reader, reader's height isn't specified but is shorter than katsuki's, reader gets a bit insecure but katsuki fixes that up rq, reader is very mushy n inlove with katsuki, (but aren't we all) katsuki loves reader very much in return

in his final moments, katsuki thinks of you.

he thinks about primary school. you’re both ten, double digits. foolishly believing you were all grown up. katsuki’s fingers are white and dry from cleaning up the chalkboard, since you guys were tasked for clean up duty today.

or at least, you were. but your classmate suddenly vanished without a word and katsuki, as nice and helpful as he was (to you, at least) decided to stay behind to help you, don’t ask him where your cleaning buddy went, he has absolutely no idea and has absolutely nothing to do with it. at all.

“ y’know—” he starts, soaking the soggy sponge into the water bucket next to him, then squeezing it out. “when we’re done with this stupid school stuff, i’ll go pro.” he states, slapping the sponge onto the board, creating a loud splat noise.

you, having heard this time and time before, simply look at him and smile, placing your classmates chairs on top of their desks row by row “mhm, i know !” you grin “ 'n you’ll be number one, right ?” you’re standing in between two desks, hands playing with your uniform skirt behind your back.

“hell yeah i will !” katsuki boasts, smirking. he scrubs at the board a little more vigorously.

“bad word !” you tease, giggling as you point at him “ 'm gonna tell miss you said a cuss word again !”

he huffs, turning around to scrunch his nose up and stick his tongue out at you, you stick yours out back playfully. “as if i care ! yer too much of a wuss to snitch on me anyways.”

“no I’m not, i’ll do it right now !” katsuki rolls his red eyes at you, returning to his task and wiping the board down in a zig zag motion. “ i don’t care” he reiterates.

you pout at his back and just then get an idea you’re sure will piss him off, a cat like grin pulls at your lips.

“okaaayy … then i’ll just tell your mom !” you sing, bursting into giggles when he swiftly turns around and waves the wet sponge in your direction. he’s too far to reach you but you dodge anyway, just to mess with him.

“no you won’t.”

“yeah, i will !” you counter, blowing a raspberry at him. you both break out into a fit of giggles when he aggressively dips the sponge into the water and flicks the droplets at you once more, before he decides to close the distance and chase you around your cramped little classroom growling and screaming, threatening you with the dirty sponge.

you’re squealing and giggling and laughing, trying to fend him off with a broom and even then, at ten. then when the concept of cherishing memories of the time you spend together wasn’t even an afterthought in his mind, katsuki remembers wishing he could stay with you like this forever.

when you’re both out of breath the classroom is just as messy—if not messier than it usually is. you give eachother a look then belly laugh some more.

you’re picking up chairs again and katsuki’s helping you, so it goes even faster. you don’t wanna go home because you won’t be seeing him anymore, but you have to admit your eager to finish and leave school.

katsuki’s back is to you on the second row and he can’t see you looking at him from the back row, he decides it’s time he says what he wanted to say before you got distracted. he clutches the legs of the chair he’s holding a little tighter.

“hey,” his voice comes suddenly in the quiet, it surprises you a little, you hum in response “ 'm really gonna go pro when we’re done with school, y’know.” he insisted.

you tilt your head wearily, looking at him with his back still turned to you. “yeah, i know.” you respond “you said that already.” you’re confused, he can’t hear the scrapping noise of the wooden chairs anymore, it’s annoyingly too quiet now.

“ you’re coming with me” he pauses, turning to you a little so you catch a peak of his quickly reddening face. it sounds like a statement but even then you know better. you don’t miss a beat, nodding furiously “uhuh, always !” his cheeks flare up more as he turns fully towards you. he walks over until the only thing separating you is the desk in between. he turns his back to you again to lean against the desk seperating you both.

“you’ll be with me, and we’ll be pro's together” he maintained. he feels his chest tighten when you offer him more of your pretty bright smiles and nods, you smile at him the way he knows you don’t with the other boys in class who are stupid enough to think they deserve even a second of your time and it makes him feel a little bit more confident as he speaks more clearly “a-and I’ll be number one, and you’ll be number two. but not behind me, with me, yknow ?” he feels stupid for having to explain himself but you don’t mind, as long as you can stay with katsuki you don’t mind which number you are. you move across the table so you can stand next to him. you nod and he let's out a little huff and a smile starts pulling at his mouth.

"a-and" he gulps " 'n then—i'll marry you."

it's quiet for just moment.

and then you register what he said and feel your entire body heat up.

"w-wha ?! " you sputter "marry me ?!" your wide eyes startle him as he glances at you but refuses to look over again. he's red to the tips of his ears, pulling at the bottom of his now longer tucked in shirt. despite the growing lump in his throat, he nods.

"mhm," he kicks at an eraser laying on the floor, the only noise heard coming from it hitting a wall a little further. you don't see where, you're still looking at him. " my ma says i can't do it now, since it's...illegal, or something." he scoffs dissaprovingly "b-but..when 'm older," he sucks in a breath, then suddenly turns to you causing you to sit up straighter in suprise, you feel your hands gripping the desk tighter and tighter as your face feels more and more on fire. "when i'm older—i'll do it. that way, none of those other losers will look at you."

he looks way more flustered than you but he's sitting up straight still, eyes determined and unwavering and it knocks the wind out of you, because for as long as you can remember katsuki's been the coolest.

there's absolutely no doubt in your mind he's embarrassed. if his face wasn't a dead give away, his posture and demeanor give it away just as much. you've known him for a long time now, since you were 6 years old and he had walked up to you. little newbie you, who had transferred in the middle of the school year and with nobody to play with. he was there, head held high with his friends in tow behind him, demanding to know what your quirk was and the rest was history.

katsuki persists even when he knows the odds are low, he perseveres and keeps kicking and punching and blowing up everything in his path where anyone else would've given up while they had the chance. like when he fought against those 4th graders while you were all still only in 2nd grade. his face was all messed up and he had a nosebleed, but he ended up winning. because he swore he would keep winning.

'cus that's what heroes do.'

katsuki fights and keeps fighting even if you think the odds are low, because he doesn't. to him, there's absolutely no doubt in his mind he'd win. even here, when he isn't fighting, instead confessing to you. he's red-faced, embarrassed out of his mind and nervous, but his shoulders are squared and there's no doubt in his eyes after he had just told you he would marry you. when he thought about being older, he thought about you being there with him.

and even after what you'd heard all you can think is that your katsuki is so cool.

so with a bright smile, bright eyes and the summer sun slowly setting in your empty little cramped classroom, you give him your response.

"mhm ! "

katsuki thinks about his last year of middle school.

today's the last day of your middle school life before you go off to high school and katsuki couldn't be happier to leave this shitty school. he's 15 now. older, but besides his features, remained the same (to you, at least) .

it's your last day and you finish it off with cleaning duty, ironically, and he remembers that day back in elementary. then proceeds to shake it off, hoping to shake off the embarrassing memories. but it doesn't seem to work because it feels like the universe is seriously fucking with him.

you're the one tasked with cleaning duty again and with your cleaning buddy, yet again, being nowhere to be found. katsuki yet again staying behind to help you out. and again, katsuki has absolutely no idea where your buddy went and has absolutely nothing to do with it. at all.

it shouldn't be anything new, he stays and helps, albeit begrudingly, every time you have cleaning duty. but it feels different somehow. katsuki chalks it up to it being the end of the year.

the only difference from last time is you actually finish in record time. usually, that would've been great news, less time at school and even more free time katsuki can spend with you.

but you're quiet today.

you usually chat his ear off, and just because it's you, he chat's right back. wether you're messing around teasing each other or just talking about your day at school or who's house you're staying over at for the afternoon and which movie you're watching, you're always talking about something. it's comforting where he'd usually think it to be annoying with anyone else. but they aren't you.

and he doesn't like it.

when you finish you reach for your bag sitting neatly on top of your desk but katsuki stops you, grabbing your wrist. the feel of your soft skin has him involentarily flushing lightly, he ignores it in favor of squeezing your wrist when you don't immediately look back at him.

"what's up with you ?" he questioned gruffly. it comes out harsh, but that's not what you hear. you've known katsuki for a long time, after all. he's worried, you can tell. his words are rough around the edges but his eyes are soft, filled with care and the soft stroke of his thumb against you skin sends slight shivers down your spine when you turn to look at him shyly.

you open your mouth to deny him, but he can practically read your mind "don't give me that 'nothinngg' bullshit" your nose scrunches at the way his voice raises in pitch as he crudely mimicks you and a little smirk pulls at his face for only a moment before it falls again " don't go lyin' to me. know i hate that shit" he rasped.

you sigh, he's known you just as long as you'd known him after all.

you lean against your desk and he copies you, your shoulders brushing as he scoots himself a little closer to you. you jump up a little to sit on your desk, you're the same height as him like this. he scoots a little closer and turns to look at you, placing his hands on your desk to lean on it, fingers inches away from yours.

"i just—" you faltered "this our last day of school. when the day is over we'll be high schoolers." you stated. katsuki scoffs jokingly and leans a bit closer to you "what ? you tellin' me youre gonna miss this dump ? last i heard, you were the first one who wanted to leave so you wouldn't have to deal with mr. nakamura anymore." he jests, trying to lighten the mood as best he could, the worry in his eyes still shining bright. a smile pulls at the corner of his lips when you huff out a little giggle.

"yeah well, i won't be missing mr. nakamura. or his stupid tests" you pretend to shiver as you cringe "at all." katsuki let's out a cute chuckle. he's like a magnet, you feel yourself scooting closer to where he's leaning next to you, like you're being pulled closer to him, you don't mind. you never mind being close to katsuki.

"but..?" he coaxed, knowing that wasn't all you wanted to say.

"but.." you continue "but i'll miss this, yknow ? like—the school itself wasn't..the best" katsuki scoffs in response but doesn't interrupt "the teachers weren't either. but—i dunno—this. being here." you confess, you stare down at your shoes as you kicks your legs aimlessly into the air " we've spent such a long time here, and now we're leaving. we went from being the youngest—to the oldest, to going back to being the youngest again, and that in itself isn't the problem.."

"then what is ?" he raises a brow.

"we're gonna be in a completely different school, with completely different people—"

"but we'll be together." he interrupts "you said you wanted to go to ua too" you said you were gonna stay with me is what he wants to say, but it's childish and that wouldn't be fair to you.

"of course, i still do !" you reassure "but—there'll be tons of new, strong, cool people at ua.."

"maybe even stronger and cooler than me.." you trail off. you don't need to say more for katsuki to understand what you mean and it pissed him off.

"shut up." he growls.

"katsuki—"

"no. shut the fuck up." he's right in front of you before you can blink. you reflexively part your legs and he takes the opportunity to stand even closer to you, right in your space. you feels your cheeks warm at the proximity, your close enough to see it's apparently affecting him too, his cheeks turning a cute pink but as stubborn as your katsuki is he doesn't budge. as usual.

you don't exactly know what you and katsuki are. you know you like him, you know you have for a long time. and you'd like to believe he likes you too. he doesn't act the way he does with you the way he does with his other friends (or his lackeys as he calls them, you're the only one he openly calls his friend) but he doesn't really have anyone close to him besides you, so you don't know if he'd act this way with someone else.

the thought leaves a nasty taste in your mouth, so you decide to focus on something else. something else being katsuki, of course, he's all up in your space. his gaze not allowing you to look or even think about anything else but him.

"who i meet at ua doesn't fuckin' matter, they'll all be weaksauce compared to me anyway" he states smugly, causing you to huff out a laugh again " i don't care if theyre cool, or strong" his nose scrunches up in disgust as he quips venomously "i don't care about any of that—and i don't hang out with you because of that either—i fuckin' care about you because you're you."

your heart stutters.

" what, you think i hang out witcha because of superficial shit like that ? you mockin' me or something ?"

"no, no course not !" you insist, shaking your head.

" exactly, so don't..." he huffs, looking away from you towards the ground, there's a random eraser lying on the ground and he kicks it "don't go saying dumb shit like that."

"i don't waste my time with just anyone, 's why i'm wastin' it with your ass" he jokes, chuckling when you squeeze his nose in response. supressing a smile you whine at him when he leans forward to bite yours.

"katsuki, you're gross !" you giggle as you push at his face, he smiles lightly at the sound of your laughter, one of his favorite sounds. "ya started it." he disputes weakly, his smile turning into a smirk when you groan and then it falls again as he looks at you seriously.

" but seriously" he starts "i mean it, y'know. don't just say shit to say it"

"i know" you smile. he grunts in acknowledgement then continues.

"i don't care about how cool those future ua asshats are gonna be. you're different, you're not like that—i mean—that's not what i look at—what i see with you" he fumbles around for his words and groans, slamming his forehead against your shoulder. you're used to katsuki being physical, but that was usually when he was being annoying, pinching and prodding and biting at you. he's rarely ever this affectionate. it's different, but nice..really nice, so you savor it while you can. your fingers twitch a little closer to his and you decide to take a leap of faith, placing your hands ontop of his. he flinches and you're about to pull back when he grips your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours. you feel him huff into your uniform. his hair tickles as he shuffles his head deeper inside your shoulder.

"you're not like those other losers, y'not like anyone" he explains "you're—when you're around it's like you're glowing. you're bright and when you talk, everyone sorta—gets pulled towards you like you're some typa magnet" his hands get warmer against yours as he speaks. you're surprised that he sees you this way, when that's practically the same way you see him.

" you pull people in so easily, and it pisses me off that you don't realise it. you are strong, and cool and everything else but that's not all you are. s'not all i care about."

"you're annoying. and whiney. extremely annoying, actually" he chuckles, and you pull at his ear "but—" he continues "but you're..fun to be around or whatever, wouldn't be around you otherwise. you're too fuckin' nice and your taste in music isn't bad" katsuki grumbles.

he wants to say more, so much more. he wants to say he thinks the way you immerse yourself when you're watching a movie together is adorable. the way you hold yourself back from commenting during the movie so as not to be annoying, even thought he could listen to you naming street signs and never get bored. the way your eyes light up when you get your grade back for a test you had studied your ass off for, when you come to him showing off your hard work it makes him want to hold you and never let go. he wants to say the way you're not scared to banter and bicker with him, the way your nose scrunches up when you try to hold in your laughter when he passes you a crudely drawn picture of your homeroom teacher, the way you smile at him whenever you see him, whenever he shares his umbrella or your lunches even though you have your own and he has his, makes him want to kiss you silly.

he wants to say all this and more, but he knows the words won't come out right, they never do. but somehow you understand and it's another thing he admires—that he loves about you.

"i...didn't know you felt that way" is all you can quietly muster up. you're cute, he feels you squeezing his hands a little tighter " yeah you didn't, cus i didn't tell you" he ribbed. you huff out a 'dont be annoying" gruffly and he chuckles. the asshole.

your asshole, though, your heart decides.

you're both quiet, everything is quiet and you're happy, reassured. you'd be happy if this is where the conversation ended but katsuki never fails to surprise you today it seemed.

" 'sides" he squeezes your hands tighter "i promised you i'd marry you didn't i ? how can i do that if i'm not around you, hah ?"

you're heart skips approximately three beats at the memory of his promise and you lean back to look at his fully red cheeks and his fleeing eyes.

"you still remember that ?" you ask incredulously. he rolls his eyes but you can tell it's simply to save face as he responds " of course i do. wasn't that long ago."

"but—we were like—ten when that happened. "

"so ?" he responds simply "doesn't change nothin'. i told you, i don't say shit to just say it."

you're flustered and so utterly confused, but there's a happy feeling bubbling in your stomach at his words " but we're not even dating !"

"we're not ?" of course not , he knows he hadn't properly asked you to be his girlfriend. but he figured if he talked about the memory that seemed to refuse being pushed aside, he could casually sneak by what he was too embarrassed to ask. but of course, you never make it easy for him.

"no, we aren't" you pout, crossing your arms at him. he grumbles, reaching to pull your arms away from your chest but you're stubborn, he was right about you being extremely annoying. "cut that out," he hissed.

"mm-mm ! " you shake your head "you can't just decide we're together. i didn't even know you liked me like that.." you trail off shyly. katsuki looks utterly baffled "hah?! whaddya mean you didn't know ? you don't see me actin' like this with anyone else do you ?"

"that's cus you're mean to everyone else !" you choked out, puffing your cheeks out at him.

"well yeah ! but—that's the thing, i'm not mean to you !" he defends, faltering when you raise a brow at him "fuck off, m'not that mean ! i'm just messing with you !" he rebutted. you simply roll your eyes at him and after a moment he sighs.

"fine" he concedes "i should've told you i liked you, i don't just decide that i want you to be my girlfriend when it's convenient for me or something" he keeps quiet about how you could of also told him you liked him as well for now, for fear of you getting moody at him again.

you still look away from him and he groans "hey c'mon, look at me." he utters sincerely. after a minute, you offer him a glance and he takes his opportunity, turning your face towards him, holding back a grin when he feels how warm your cheeks are.

"do you...wanna be my girlfriend ?" he stammers, looking at you with his red cheeks and bashful red eyes, and yet his gaze doesn't falter.

so cool.

it's your last day of middle school, your last day before you go off to a different school with different people. but with your katsuki by your side, and that's all that matters to you.

and with a bright smile, bright eyes and the summer sun slowly setting in your empty classroom, you give him your response by pressing your lips to his softly.

katsuki thinks about the night before today, when you'd knocked at his door in the dead of night.

usually, on any other day, he'd have scolded you for being up so late but would've ended up letting you in anyway. but lately, things hadn't been as they had been before..everything happened. and he could tell you were upset, so he simply let you in without a word.

you take the liberty of laying down in his bed like you used to back at his house and back at the dorms. he doesn't mind. it feels familiar, comforting.

he lies down next to you and you immediately latch onto him, seeking his warmth. with your head in his chest, you hold onto him tightly, like he'll dissapear if you don't. he clings to you just as tightly.

"what's up with you ?" he mumbles sleepily, softer than when he would've if he were more awake, but still focusing all of his attention onto you.

he feels you shake against his chest "jus' wanted to be wif you" he hears you mumbles. he presses his lips to the top of your head, pressing a sweet little kiss onto it as you breathe "you know that's bullshit." he reprimands, he feels you squeeze him tighter. he squeezes your waist twice, his warm hands running up and down your sides "c'mon, talk to me" he prodded

you look up at him and he looks down at you. your eyes are glossy, he can tell even in the dark and he's sure you were crying a little. his theory is confirmed when he hears you let out a little sniffle, his heart breaks at the sound. his heart breaks even more when you squeeze your eyes shut, gripping at the front of his shirt.

"baby," he pleads softly, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, mouth and cheeks when you whine. "tell me what's bothering you, yeah ?"

"m'just—you're gonna be fighting tomorrow, and we all are and i know you're strong but you'll be in the front lines against him" you blubbered, you hiccup as tears roll down your cheeks " and i know you're strong. but katsu, i can't—" you gasp. he shushes you softly, pressing kiss after kiss to your lips. he knows what you're gonna say, he knows you're worried. he's known you for so long after all.

he hated himself the day he woke up after the first war. when he woke up to you crying at his side, with you yourself still being injured. he hates how much he worried you that day and he knows that the fleeting glances you give him whenever you have a briefing with the pro's, the way you stare off at nothing whenever you catch a glimpse of his scars, are all out of worry for him. he did the same after he had found out you had also been heavily injured during the brawl, so he can't say he wouldn't do the same way.

"baby, babe—look at me" he intones softly, grabbing onto your tear stained cheeks to get you to look at him, he's close so he's sure you can see him despite the darkness. he can't help pressing another kiss to your lips " nothing's gonna happen, okay ?" he reassures, rubbing your cheek softly.

"i can't see you like that again, katsuki. i just can't" you whimper, leaning into his hand.

"you won't, promise you won't." he vows. he knows you're even more worried because you'll both be in different areas and he hates he won't be able to keep his eye on you. but you're strong and cool and everything else, so he trusts you'll be okay "i need you to trust me"

"i do" you sniffle, taking a deep breath "i do trust you, but i just—don't wanna see you get hurt, kacchan"

he sighs softly, staring at you lovingly as he pulls you towards his chest. you nuzzle against him and he presses his mouth to the side of your head. "i can't promise i won't be gettin' hurt, s'gonna happen on the job" he says carefully, rubbing your back "but i promise i'll always come back to you. no matter how fucked up i get, i'll win. for you." he declares, feeling you shove your head deeper against his shoulder.

you remember how despite getting extremely injured by shigaraki, he recovered in record time. it seemed nothing could stop your boyfriend from proving to the world he was the best. because katsuki fights and keeps fighting even if you think the odds are low, because he doesn't. because to him, there's absolutely no doubt in his mind he'll win.

and despite the worry and the fear gnawing at you, you can't help but think your katsuki is so fucking cool.

so you nod against his shoulder and he feels the collar of his shirt grow wet, but he doesn't mind as your grip on him loosens lightly until you can feel yourself falling asleep.

before you fall though, you hear katsuki speak.

"besides, i promised you i'd marry you didn't i ?"

he feels you smile into his neck, and you give him your response by happily nodding into his shoulder with a hum.

in his final moments, katsuki thinks of you.

he thinks of the promises he's made. he thinks of the promise he made to his old hag to not cause you, such a sweet girl, too much trouble. he remembers the promise he made to his old man to stay safe while he went out on patrol and when he'd fight against shigaraki for the second time. he remembers the promise he made to himself to get his limited edition all might card signed one day. and he remembers the promise he'd made when he said he'd always, always come back to you.

and he remembers the promise he'd made to marry you. the promise that you both would be together and none of the other losers would look at you.

so when he awakens, katsuki doesn't bother to ask why or how.

he simply fights and keeps fighting, so he can win, no matter how fucked up he gets.

and always, always come back to you.

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