#Some of that ‘a little work done’ is simply ‘cleaning up from 6 people living on that floor at some point’

[deathxproof-archive]

today was going exceptionally well until I was once more solely blamed for the state of the second floor of my parents’ house when I was one of six (6) people who have occupied that floor. it’s fine. I’ll get over it. I’m already pretty over it tbqh but still fucking sucks yknow

[zanarkandskylines]

₊✩‧₊◜ a kiribaku x reader scenario that’s lived in my head for awhile now! it’s not really a formalized…anything. just fleeting thoughts. ♡ ✿ tangled hearts modern au masterlist ✿ ｡‧˚ʚ wc; ~2.6k ɞ˚‧｡

Thinking about a modern day AU with Kirishima and Bakugo settling down in the countryside for a quiet life away from the hustle of the city. They’re in their early 30s, married and happily tucked away in their own little paradise - until they meet you.

Bakugo works with his parent’s fashion agency as the director of the design department, and is a designer himself. He went to the highest credible fashion institute in Tokyo and graduated top of his class - as expected.

Kirishima is a personal trainer and owner of the local gym. He took a few business classes after high school and general fitness courses to learn all about it. He loves getting to help people and knows almost every single person in town. He also volunteers with the local fire company.

It was the ideal place for them, not too big and not too cramped. Bakugo had his own garden that he cherished while Kirishima loved the backyard for home exercising. Their home was spaced out from their neighbors and gave them the perfect amount of privacy.

The town is only an hour and change outside the city, still remaining close for friends and family by train. Bakugo mostly worked from home and only went into the city office for important meetings and press conferences. He preferred to work in his own space while designing instead of in a buzzing office where anyone could bother him - especially his parents.

Their morning routine was simple: Bakugo would wake up anytime between 6 and 6:30am, rolling out of bed to start breakfast and coffee. By the time he’s done cooking, Kirishima stumbles into the kitchen with his eyes half closed, sleepily making his way over to kiss his husband good morning. They’d sit at the table together and casually talk about their plans for the day or in silence as they enjoyed each others company.

That was all disrupted the morning Kirishima spotted you outside the gym, waiting for it to open. He didn’t recognize you like he did everyone else in town - that immediately caught his attention. Once inside, you introduced yourself and told him how you moved from the city for a new job. The two of you got to talking longer than anticipated and ended up bonding over you being new to town. Kirishima signs you up for his yoga classes the following week, excited to see you mesh with his regulars.

Bakugo’s on his lunch break later in the day at the local market to pick up his usual fresh vegetables and fruits when he spots you browsing the aisle behind him. He peeks over his glasses to see his design logo on the small tag at the hem of your tshirt. He simply smiles to himself, proud to see a garment of his in the wild, and finishes his own shopping.

───

A few weeks go by of getting to know Kirishima as you attend his classes. You’d stop and talk with him afterwards each time, slowly developing a friendship. One day after class, he casually mentions to you that his husband is a great cook and how his food rivals any five star restaurant from the city. On a whim, he invites you to dinner with him and Bakugo at their home - you agree happily. You didn’t have any friends in the area, what’s the harm in meeting people?

You arrive at their cozy home and are greeted heartily by Kirishima at the door as he puts a hand on your back and welcomes you inside. Bakugo turns his attention from the stove to the door, nodding in your direction as he continues cooking. You can’t help but think he looks…familiar.

Their place is gorgeous, tidy and clean, yet homey. There were pictures of their family and friends hung up all over alongside some simple art pieces and knick knacks. You could already tell who decorated versus who didn’t - Kirishima is definitely not the type to decorate so eloquently.

You’re gazing at one of the pictures when the realization smacks you in the face.

He’s responsible for half the clothes in your closet.

Kirishima is married to the Katsuki Bakugo of the fashion world? And you’re in his house for dinner that he’s serving to you?!

The thought makes you dizzy as your face flushes, desperately trying to hide your sudden excitement. And you chose to wear one of the dresses he designed for a collaboration years ago. What are the chances? Kirishima never told you what his husband’s name was, just that he was married.

“Y/N, I want you to meet my husband, Katsuki!” Kirishima excitedly says as he’s walking you to the kitchen. “Kat, this is Y/N. She’s the one I told ya about from my yoga class!”

The two of you lock eyes for a moment before Bakugo looks you up and down, calculating his first impression of you. He wasn’t about to tell you that he’s seen you around town before, he had to play it cool and not make it seem like he already knew you existed.

“Nice ta meet ya,” he greets before returning his attention to the stove. “Dinners just about ready. Ei, can you set the table?”

You all sit down for dinner, and it’s absolutely delicious. Kirishima was not joking about Bakugo’s cooking, every single thing you ate was delightful. You honestly don’t know if you’ve had a better meal than his.

“This is absolutely amazing, Ba-”

“Jus’ call me Katsuki.”

Him cutting you off to correct his name before you even finished saying it made your heart skip a beat.

“Oh, sure. Katsuki, this is honestly one of the best meals I’ve ever had,” you repeat, picking at that last of your vegetables on your plate. “I saw a garden outside. Do you grow them yourself?”

Bakugo grins, glowing at your compliments. “Yep. Anythin’ not in season I grab from market.”

Kirishima watches the two of you interact, happy that he was right about the three of you getting along seamlessly.

You shuffle in your seat at the next pause in your conversation before deciding to ask the burning question on your mind.

“So, Katsuki…what do you do for work?”

He laughs, motioning to your sundress. “Ya don’t have to beat around the bush about it. I can spot my work from a mile away.”

That broke the ice and allowed you to relax, knowing he didn't think you were trying to impress him by wearing his own design. The night went on, way past dinner, where the three of you talked about any and everything. It felt as if they’d already known you their whole lives, the conversation never feeling forced and flowing naturally.

“Shit, I’m sorry for staying so late!” You exclaim while looking at your phone. “Didn’t mean to keep you guys up.”

“Don’t apologize, y/n! You’re welcome here anytime,” Kirishima assured, slinging his arm around Bakugo on the couch. “We’d love to have ya over for dinner again soon!”

You’re about to head out the door when Bakugo gets up from the couch and stops you. “It’s dark, lemme walk you back to your place.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you insist, but he wasn’t having it. He was already changing out of his slippers and into a pair of sneakers. He held the door open for you as you waved to Kirishima, thanking him again for having you over and that you’ll see him for class in the morning.

You and Bakugo are walking down the dimly lit street toward your apartment complex, hands in his pockets, when he strikes up another conversation about your dress.

“You didn’t need to act so shy about the dress,” he comments. “Looks good on ya.”

You can feel your cheeks get hot again, praying he can't see your reaction in the street lights. "T-thanks! I love your work. I actually have a lot of the clothes you’ve designed…what are the odds?” You trail off at the end out of nervousness, playing with the fabric of the dress.

“Yeah? Good to know.”

The two of you approach your building and he says a simple ‘good night’ as he waves, turning to head home.

There’s a weird feeling in your chest, one that you haven’t felt in a long time. A warmth that floods your body with…you can’t pinpoint it. It makes you sweat, but comforts you at the same time.

Little did you know that the boys were feeling the exact same way.

───

Months go by as the three of you become inseparable - dinners, movie nights, shopping at the market, going into the city together, meeting their friends, walking around town at sunset, picnics in the park, you name it. Kirishima and Bakugo never knew they could feel so comfortable with someone so quickly - it was as if the three of you were meant to find each other.

While the two of them are lying in bed one night, Kirishima decides to open up about his feelings. He rolls over to face Bakugo, his usual pointy hair fluffed around his face against the pillow.

“Kats, I got a question for ya. It’s kinda…weird?” He starts, fiddling with the hem of the comforter. “Do you…uhh, shit. Do you have any feelings toward Y/N?”

Bakugo flips to his side to face him. “What do y’mean?”

“Oh don’t be like that. I think she’s…really cute,” he admits, his cheeks turning rosy. “I enjoy having her around.”

Bakugo grumbles in embarrassment, pulling the comforter up to cover his face. He feels like a high school boy all over again - he just didn’t want to admit it.

They’d both fallen for you simultaneously without even saying a word. Neither of them knew why, they’ve been together for over a decade now - since their college days. No one has ever made their hearts race in sync like you do.

“I’ll take that reaction as an agreement,” Kirishima teases, poking Bakugo’s forehead through the covers. He groans again as he throws the blanket off his face.

“It’s been confusin’ the shit outta me. I love you, Ei and that doesn’t change shit, but goddamn. She’s fuckin’ gorgeous,” Bakugo admits, face and ears burning hot.

“Aw, you’re so cute when you have a crush!” He scoots closer to Bakugo and kisses him on the forehead. “Haven’t seen that side of ya since college.”

Bakugo bats at him playfully, pushing him away as he whines, “Shut the fuck up!”

“So…what do we do about it?” Kirishima’s question hangs in the air between them, heavy…but alluring.

───

The next few times you hang out with the boys, you can tell that things feel a little more…intense? If that was the right word, the feeling was foreign. You found yourself becoming more physical with the two of them, and each time gave you butterflies. You weren’t quite sure what was going on until that fateful night.

It was a dreary night, the remnants of the storm passing through the town. The rain was no longer a torrential downpour and had tapered off into a sprinkle, enough to allow you to walk home safely. You’re heading for the door as Bakugo catches up to you, umbrella in hand.

“Y’know the drill, I’m not lettin’ ya walk home alone. Especially when it’s still raining.”

“Kat, you hate the rain, it’s fine,” you argue, but know it’s pointless. Bakugo waves at Kirishima and you notice Kirishima’s smile is extra wide tonight…and did he wink?

He closes the door behind the two of you and opens the umbrella on the porch, slinging an arm around your shoulders to huddle you under its protection.

The walk to your apartment is silent, an unknown tension lingering in the air. The subtle flexing of Bakugo’s fingers on your shoulder is driving you wild, a simple touch was enough to ignite the fire in your gut. Reaching your apartment complex, you stop to thank him for walking you home like always, but something else spills from your lips instead.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Bakugo’s taken aback by your question, confused where this has come from. “What? No, not at all. Why?”

“I…just don’t wanna make you two uncomfortable,” you whisper, eyes cast to the ground. “I really like you two…and don’t want to come between y-”

The umbrella clatters to the ground as Bakugo throws it to the side, letting the rain pelt against the both of you as one hand pulls you into him by the waist and the other under your chin.

“That’s right where we want ya,” he speaks against your lips. He hesitates, tilting his head back and looking directly in your eyes. “Tell me to back off, and I will. We can act like-”

This time, you cut him off by putting a hand on the back of his head and one on his chest, pulling him to meet your lips. The world stops around you as the rain trickles down your faces and vaguely into your kiss. You tangle your arms around each other’s bodies, illuminated by the soft street lights as your clothes become heavier with rainwater. After what feels like ages, you part, catching the breath you’ve stolen from each other’s lungs.

No words are spoken as Bakugo takes your hand, tugging you back down the road toward their place. You giggle and begin to run with excitement, skipping through the rain with him all the way back. Throwing open the front door, you both take a step inside, soaking wet from the rain. Kirishima glances over from the couch, shocked to see you return with Bakugo.

“Woah! What happened to you two?” he asks, concerned yet intrigued. He then notices you’re holding hands, and it clicks.

You’re stripping the wet clothes from your body faster than you can chicken out of doing so, letting them plop on the floor of the foyer until you’re left in your bra and underwear. Bakugo follows suit and trails behind you as you make your way over to Kirishima on the couch. You take a deep breath before placing a hand on each of his shoulders, sliding into his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. He places his hands on your waist anxiously, scared you’ll shatter under his touch.

“It’s okay, Eiji,” you coo, leaning down to his ear. “You can touch me.”

You turn back to Bakugo as he’s sitting next the two of you on the couch, reaching a hand out to stroke his cheek. “Katsuki can, too.”

That’s all the permission they need to devour you all night long - over and over again like a drug they couldn’t get enough of. Brief naps in between, each time better than the last. Hands tangled in hair, lips kissing skin in sinful places, and noises only the three of you could orchestrate together.

That was the night their lives changed forever, thanks to you. Things were easy and simple between the three of you - you blended into their routines perfectly as the weeks progressed. Waking up between the two of them each morning was heavenly, especially when they fought over who got to cuddle you through the night. Bakugo usually won that fight until he would go make breakfast, then Kirishima would tuck you under his arm and hold you close.

Everything was so easy between you three, you were the missing puzzle piece in their lives that they didn’t know was absent.

You were theirs, and they were yours - simple as that. They wouldn’t trade their newfound goddess for the world.

i immediately think of @pastelbakugou & @kweenkatsuki-fics when it comes to kiribaku x reader, thank you for being my inspirations! 💜

next entry: delicate (isn’t it?)

[elvenbeard]

2076

"I'm tellin' ya, mano, this is only the beginning! A few months down the line we're gonna be Night City legends!"

"I think before I wanna be a legend I'd just like to start feelin' like myself again..."

The day Vince was sacked in November of 2076 was the newest low point of his life. He'd lost everything, from a job he was good at, financial security, to what he'd assumed had been friends. Over the course of the year his health had been on a steady decline, mentally and physically. His first so harmonious, almost too-perfect relationship with an older coworker had found an abrupt and bitter ending filled with betrayal. Jenkins' paranoia and revenge fantasies reached new heights, and several particularly precarious operations went wrong in a row. To cope with the stress, silence his depression and anxieties, and be able to keep up with his coworkers-turned-competitors' performance, Vince turned to substance abuse over the course of his last 6 months at Arasaka.

In Jackie's eyes, the termination of Vince's contract couldn't come soon enough, seeing his friend spiral and lose himself in the corporate mud more and more with each passing day.

Like many times before - even though this one had been Vince's highest fall so far - Jackie helped him back to his feet. He and his mother took Vince in and kept him company through his withdrawal from both self- and corporate-administered drugs. Slowly but surely he got better.

From the first day they'd known, Jackie had always urged Vince to consider teaming up as mercs. Together they'd be one hell of a duo, muscle and tech, street-smarts and corporate education, guns and hacking. They'd make it far in Night City's underground world in no time, or so he thought.

By 2076, Jackie was a respected Solo, particularly in Heywood, but still far from achieving his dreams of becoming a legend - and really, those had always been Jackie's dreams alone. Sure, Vince wanted to leave an impact and be remembered, not just fade away into the shadows, but who didn't? Dying in a blaze of glory though, never reaching age 30, just for the money and fame, for doing other people's dirty work? He never saw the appeal... but also, so far he'd failed to find a satisfying middleground.

By mid-December 2076 Vince had somewhat recovered, had been clean for a little over a month, but his cash started to run dry. The next time Jackie asked him to accompany him on a job - just a small one, a little favor for a choomba, nothin' dangerous or dramatic - Vince gave in and tagged along. "Just this once," he told himself, simultaneously looking for other job opportunities. He even considered going back into the corporate world, a smaller company, something less exhausting than Counterintel, maybe media, or a lowly techie position like Jenkins had intended for him originally.

But the small job went well, was fun, even. Jackie's enthusiasm had always been infectuous. After everything he'd done for Vince, he didn't think it fair to continue saying no to him and to something that indeed worked out better than he could have ever imagined... He still had no intentions of dying young, or a legend, but as Jackie put it: would be a shame to let all that Arasaka training go to waste, so why not use it to do some good with it, help themselves and others in their lives?

Vince through the years (6/9)

The set above is basically the followup to this VP comic I did a while ago, the evening after V's and Jackie's first job together.

As mentioned, Vince was never eager to be a merc, and by early 2077 he simply treats it as one of his many previous part-time jobs: a way to keep a roof above his head, food on the table, and make use of his skills somehow. Maybe do some good, or at least leave a positive impact on a single person's life after 4 years of corporate scheming.

He is sort of picky with the gigs he takes, always weighs pros and cons. Sometimes he takes a gig he usually wouldn't out of sheer curiosity. But thievery and sabotage, even rescue missions, are really his favourite things to do because they come closest to what he did for Arasaka predominantly.

It really is easy money with his skills and knowledge, and also usually non-violent. I think that would be the main reason why he decides to go on with the Konpeki Plaza Heist with Jackie in the end, despite having a bad gut feeling. With the information they have it seems like something just down his alley, and he's very confident that he did his best in setting everything up. His biggest mistake is really putting so much trust in Dex doing his part for the preparation of the heist.

Vince is really used to his superiors just supplying him with all necessary info, no questions asked - both back at Arasaka and with the fixers he's worked with at that point, mainly Regina and Wakako. Both are thorough and reliable, do their work, hold nothing back that could be useful. He is also used to his team-members speaking up if they think something feels off. But I think T-Bug is in a similar boat as him, confident that all will go as planned, in her mind already in Cyprus. And Jackie, who just really really wants this to happen so badly, does not speak up despite potentially having a bad feeling.

So, even though Vince feels like all of it sounds too good to be true, everyone else involved being so confident and presenting themselves so competent, in combination with Jackie's aforementioned enthusiasm, convinces him that his own worries may be unjustified. He's overthinking, this can't go wrong, they were all really thorough, they can count on each other... right?

He'll learn the hardest way possible that on the street the saying "every man for himself" is even more prevalent than in the corporate world in the end.

(CW below for drug abuse talk!)

Little sidenote re: Vince's substance abuse. I often put great emphasis on the fact that he neither smokes nor drinks, one of the many reasons why Johnny pisses him off so much by doing both regardless and repeatedly whenever he's in control of his body later. Not smoking is really just Vince's personal preference here, but he actually wouldn't mind drinking now and then - his body is really just against him on this. He can't process alcohol well and just gets drunk and nauseous really quickly, even from "just a beer" or "just a glass of wine". So he avoids it, not for moral high ground reasons but more "I dont wanna puke my guts out and have a headache for three days" reasons.

Since drinking and smoking are off the table when it comes to numbing himself through his worst time at Arasaka, drugs are the next best thing. Initally it was just downers and sleeping pills, but when those started affecting his performance during daytime, he picked up neuroboosters and other performance enhacing stuff. It was a constant struggle to balance this drug-cocktail out, in combination with the canonical stress-blockers Corpo!V is on during the start of the game.

In short, by the time Vince is kicked out, he's a walking pharmacy and needs some time to readjust to a life without being constantly on something. He's doing his best to remain clean once he gets there... and he hates that taking pills is the one thing he can do to silence Johnny, cause it brings back a lot of bad memories and associations. It's probably one of the main reasons why he ends up talking to him more instead of just blocking him out like he used to block out everything else for a while. And even though he never fully trusts him, this way he at least gets to understand him better and gains his trust and understanding in return.

[djlifeparttwo]

Catching up...

It's been a while and a lot of miles since I last wrote anything so time to play a bit of catch up before I forget what we've been doing. and where we've been (seems to happen more and more as age sneaks up)

We did indeed head back to Skagway and our little community in April. I did my usual Guest Service gig and Lady Dee added a job working on the quite famous and stunning train (White Pass Yukon Route). Had a great summer - I was so blessed to have a team of co-workers that were just delightful - and full of life experience. Aged 68 to 78, the ladies were so much fun and so great with all the guests. Made for a wonderful summer for me.

In October we said see ya to Alaska and took off for some rather grand adventures. Headed back to Spain for another long walk. Started in Seville (glorious city / highly recommend it) and started walking north to Santiago. We've never hiked a Camino this late in the year and sure enough it was a wet one. Even got snowed on some. But it was wonderful as always. The weather just made it more unique - as long as you have the right clothing / gear...

Great hike - see other Camino posts we've made for particulars - we've done 6 of them - Even got to spend time with our friend Jonathan Gonzalez and his family in Leon & Astorga and do a bit of jiu jitsu. Always a blast for me.

Spent an extra week in Barcelona just for fun. We were in Barcelona back in 2012 and always said we had to go back. Can't believe it took us over 10 years but so worth it. One of our favorite cities anywhere.

In true Nomad fashion - from there to Bangkok, Thailand. Had a couple health issues we needed to check out / address and medical care in Bangkok is wonderful. Hard to imagine getting more personal and professional care anywhere.

Got fixed up / clean bill of health and headed to Buenas Aires, Argentina. Steak! Oh my! If you have carnivore tendencies, you must visit Argentina - best tasting / cleanest beef on the planet. We ate so much steak and didn't get enough. So good - and so inexpensive. Think 17 ounce filet for $10. Oh my. Lady D has even said (a few times) that we should just fly down for 3 days to eat. Non stop flights from ATL to Buenas so....

So as the adventure keeps getting bigger - from there we connected with Seabourn Cruise Line for a trip to the Antarctic. Amazing. Chartered flight to Ushuaia (southern most town on the planet - and a very cool & beautiful town). Boarded the very new Seabourn Venture for a 9 day run to explore the Antarctic. 2 day sail through the infamous Drake Passage (which lived up to expectations as we both were pretty much isolated in our room feeling sea sick...) but once we arrived we had 5 + full days to explore. Each day we took 2 Zodiac rides, did landings to hike and explore. Kayaking in sea ice. Penguins. Lots and lots of Penguins. And the ship is stunning and the service is as good as it gets. There simply cannot be a better way to experience the Antarctic than with Seabourn. (not a paid advertisement. unfortunately...;)

Sail back to Argentina and a few more days of exquisite carnivore living.

After time in the ice - we headed back to Thailand to thaw out and explore new islands such as Kho Kud and Kho Chang. Beautiful islands and a beautiful, charming people. So happy to be back again so soon. We also decided that after feasting on a cruise ship (it seems you are obligated to over eat) we would do a 5 day water fast. Yup - nothing but water for 5 days. So we booked a lovely resort on the beach (Khao Lak ) where we could relax, walk the beach a couple times a day, even get massages. It was a very interesting experience. I never felt hungry. My stomach never even growled - but oh my were we lethargic. Zero energy. Light headed. I never felt that my ketones kicked in and got a surge of energy. We've done these fasts before without this level of exhaustion. Weird. Just got to trust that those 5 days helped to reset our systems and that we are better for it. We are less puffy than post cruise so that's good.

Back to Utah for a quick trip to see friends and repack for another hike in Spain.

It's been a remarkable 4+ months.

[moronic-validity]

Slashers Ranked: Can They Cook?

This list may upset some people, I apologize now.

-Billy Lenz: 2/10. He can boil water, which is an important first step. His problem is that everything winds up burnt or undercooked because he gets sidetracked like a mother fucker. He would've gotten a 5 or higher, but he pours the milk in his cereal first too.

-1978 Michael Myers: -9/10. He ate a dog. I will not elaborate further.

-Lester Sinclair: 6/10. He can cook!!! It may not always look the best, but he can!!! He does happen to utilize roadkill from time to time (if it's in good shape), but he's proud of it and will explain the ecological benefits.

- Bo Sinclair: 4/10. In jail for waffle related crimes. Also...got points for waffle related crimes.

- Vincent Sinclair: 5/10. He leans a bit more on microwave meals than his brothers, but you know what? They're always cooked through.

-Jason Voorhees: 7/10. He can actually cook. Fairly well. He cooks most things over a fire, but that's a personal choice. He has access to a stove. He doesn't want to use it.

-Brahms Heelshire: 0/10. Part of your job is to cook for him and feed him. Look me in the eyes and ask me again if he can cook

-Thomas Hewitt: 5/10. Listen to me. If he isn't working, he's at Luda Mae's hip when she cooks. He likes to watch and learn and help out where he can. Charlie is a little shit about it.

- Bubba Sawyer: 4/10. Would love to learn to cook from Drayton, but uh....Drayton banned all other Sawyers from the kitchen while he's cooking after an incident involving the twins.

- Pavi Largo: 8/10. The only one of the Largo siblings who can cook!!! He enjoys it, a lot!!! He loses some points by the fact that he very rarely cleans up after storm Pavi tears through.

- Luigi Largo: 5/10. He doesn't have to cook for himself, so he doesn't. He can, and will if he has work to get done; but he doesn't like to. The food is edible, and that's the best he can admit to.

- Amber Sweet: 3/10. She doesn't have to cook for herself, so she won't. She just won't. She'd sooner order takeout than cook for herself.

- Graverobber: -3/10. He would fight pizza rat for the slice of pizza.

-Amanda Young: 6/10. She's very much a mediocre cook, but like, she can feed herself and that's what's important.

- Leslie Vernon: 6/10. A lot like Amanda. He's not going to win any awards any time soon, but he can feed himself. He's trying to get Eugene and his wife to give up that apple pie recipe though...

- Charlie Hewitt: 0/10. He can't cook and doesn't want to learn how to. End of story. It's 'women's work' and he does not want Luda Mae to know he said that.

- Drayton Sawyer: 10/10. Best Chili in Texas.

- Asa Emory: 7/10. He's actually not a bad cook, but does like to experiment with using insects in his cooking. He doesn't lose points for that though, he loses points because I can see his dumbass not cooking alcohol all the way down when he cooks with it.

- Daniel Robitaille: 7/10. I am showing favoritism here. I think he can cook simply because I think he can. Anyone want to argue with me on it?

- Lawrence Oleander: 4/10. I love you Lawrence, I swear. His thing is that like... he usually only cooks when he's high. Like really high. He usually lives off of stale cereal and milk that's days shy of expiration. He's also a big fan of nachos, but that takes a specific level of inebriation.

- Strade: 8/10. Yeah, you heard me. I said it. I'll say it again. 8/10. He can cook and he can do it well. The reason he loses points is because he will only cook for himself. You and Ren? Nah. Either cook for yourself (if he'll let you) or eat a granola bar (far more likely with Strade).

[pigeonflavouredcake]

I'm an adult now take my advice

(or don't i'm not your dad)

Idk how old my followers are overall but i want to make this post in case any of you are actually teens... I am Officially 20 now. I am no longer a teenager so here are some things I learned as a poor teenager that helped me as a poor adult. Some are witchy, some are just about life, most are food related. Buckle up this will get pretty long.

Write as much down as you can bc puberty can really fuck with your memory.

Staying up late because you simply can't sleep is not something to be worried about unless you want to change that. It's pretty much all your natural body clock.

Get a big folder. Like a massive accordion folder and put all your personal documents in, birth/adoption certificates, bank statements, prescription receipts, diplomas, etc. So if you're ever in a dangerous situation at home you can make your escape a lot easier.

Now is a good time to learn new things that aren't school related. Practice cooking your favourite meals, learn how to properly clean a bathroom, if cleaning is overwhelming there are methods online that can help with that. Like playing a spot the difference game.

NO, tarot is not a closed practice, tarot is a tool for everyone and NO, tarot decks do not have to be gifted to you, you can buy one for yourself. I don't even know where that came from but it's complete bs.

Save the little gift baggies you get when you buy jewellery and use them as spell bags.

Stay away from any woman who calls her vag a yoni. it's weird.

You may want to be seen as smart and mature because it's better than being treated like a kid but you are still a kid. Your safety matters more than how mature and responsible you are. An older person should NOT be talking to you in a romantic/flirtatious setting and if they say it's because you're mature for your age or they can't wait until you're legal fucking bully the living shit out of them then block them and warn your friends. that attitude is creepy as hell bc they want someone they have power over. Same with any friends that brag about their partner being 15/16/17 when they're 18. BULLY THEM THEY'RE GROSS AND THEY DESERVE IT.

If you're in a country with the NHS USE IT NOW WHILE IT'S FREE. The first 6-8 weeks of therapy is free from the NHS. Eye tests and dentist check ups and medication are free untill you're 19 GET THEM NOW.

You can make your own oat milk by blending up oats and water. You don't need to cook with oil, there's enough of it in processed food and fresh veg have enough water in them to cook straight in a pan. You don't need the seasoning packet in ramen you can make your own. Tamari sauce has less sodium than soy sauce. Food always tastes better when it's in season. Try to find space for two food wastes, one for processed/cooked food one for raw. The raw food can be composted and given back to the earth

Best healthiest dinner option I can think of is steamed veggies. Here's my recipe: Heat up a pan on high, pour a bit of water in and then your veggies, stir frequently until all the water is gone. Turn heat down to low. Coat with something like balsamic vinegar and add any seasoning you like. Cover and steam for 10 minutes ish and you're good. You can serve that with a grain or some noodles.

Locally sourced meat and fish is WAY better for the environment than supermarket because there's less preservatives and they're more resourceful with their products.

A standard pie dough is one of the easiest things you can make and the trick is in the amount. Half the flour equals the fat, half the fat equals the sugar. so if you have 200g of flour you need 100g of fat and 50g of sugar. Just throw them in a bowl and mix together and add some cold water to bind together into a dough. It should be solid and little sticky, if it's crumbling add more water, if it's not holding it's shape add more flour. then just fridge it for a few hours to set and you're good.

You made your own soup/stew/pot thingy and you got left overs for the next day? Put it back on the cooker and bring to the boil on high, once it's bubbling take the heat down to low and simmer for 10 minutes (keep stirring if it keeps bubbling). This will help kill any bacteria that developed overnight that might make you sick.

Foraging is good but wear gloves, don't take all from one place and don't eat anything you pick until it's been thoroughly washed. Don't be afraid to go hog wild on things like blackberries, dandelions, or nettles. those things are an invasive species.

Deer are bigger than you think they are.

Air drying takes longer but it will help your clothes last. You can also hand wash with a bowl of hot water and about a teaspoon of washing up powder. Air drying also goes for your hair too.

Stock up on your favourite scented candles any size is ok and use them for spells and rituals.

You got a ghost in your house? Leave them be they're usually just passing through.

If you can't focus on work without music but it needs to be specifically wordless and needs to be easy to fill your brain so you don't focus on every noise other people make listen to animal crossing music that shit got me through two years worth of academic reading.

Bus is late or can't find your keys? Stop looking and start complaining. They'll turn up as soon as you give up.

Piercings are a medical procedure and are safer when they're done with a needle because they're hollow, so they're carving out the skin and cartilage instead of just pushing jewellery through like a gun does. Go to a tattoo parlour that also does piercings bc they're likely to be a lot stricter with rules and customer care.

Life is gonna kick us all in the but so we gotta be there to help eachother out however we can. It definitely feels like it's everyone for themselves but it doesn't have to be.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Time Apart

CW: Trauma survivor, referenced noncon and assault, heavy internalized victim-blaming and self-loathing/anti-asexuality (Chris has serious issues from his conditioning around this)

(references events from this small series)

I think you should spend time apart, not with me.

When Chris picks up his phone, it's not at all the message from Laken he expected to see. Not the kind of thing they've ever sent before.

He has to read it two times, then three. The letters swim and shake along with a dull pounding inside his head, but no matter how he tries to make them into other words - tell himself he must have misunderstood, must be missing something - they come back together the same in the end.

I think you should spend time apart, not with me.

Each letter is as crisp and clean as a sterilized blade between each rib, one by one by one by one.

The words are a body blow. They're a hundred blows, beating him into a barely recognizable shattered shell of himself. It wasn't supposed to happen this way - it's been a bad few days, yeah, a bad week really, but until yesterday's fight it had never occurred to him that Laken might give up on him.

The fight was his fault, anyway.

He meant to apologize last night, but then Nova had come into his room, and he'd lost the rest of the night to lying next to Jake, trying to remember how to stop living inside his head again, how to stop being still.

He'd woke up this morning with his stomach doing butterfly flips inside him, nervous, but he'd really wanted to say he was sorry, for the fight, for all the weirdness lately. He'd wanted to apologize for being difficult.

Instead... he'd woken up to find a missed text from the night before, sent after he'd shoved Nova away but before he could stand to look at anything again.

I think you should spend time apart, not with me.

There it sits.

He hasn't unlocked his phone yet. Instead, he keeps tapping the button to light up the screen, looking at the message preview that has all he needs to see. Lets it go dark again. As if one of these times he'll click and it'll say something else.

But it doesn't,

It just says the same damn thing.

I think you should spend time apart.

Not with me.

He's still staring at it when another one comes in. He feels the soft pulse of his phone in his hand, and the screen lights on its own.

LAKEN - NOW Did you see my message? 

He thinks maybe Kauri had it easier when he was the age Chris is now. Back when Kauri carried on entire conversations in emoji form, letting the nuance and ambiguity take over, the recipient working through the meaning on their own. With this, each letter is merciless, each word is unmistakable. He can’t misunderstand it. 

Can he?

He opens the phone with shaking fingers, types back yes, presses send, and turns his phone off.

Then he throws it at the wall.

He’s grateful for the heavy plastic case that makes it bounce off and drop to the floor without breaking. There's a strip on the back, textured and a soft purple, gray, white, and black. He rubs his fingers over it sometimes in class to keep himself from rocking and being distracting.

Now he just... stares at it.

Laken bought that for him. They bought the shirt he's wearing right now-

He yanks it off his head before he can think, balls up the soft fabric and throws it as well. It just sort of drifts pointlessly to the floor, a single eyeball from the print of a band he likes staring back at him.

Laken has ranted before about people who break up by text message, and Chris has to breathe through a physical ache in his chest that tightens every muscle at how awful he must be that they're not doing this face to face. How awful, how used-up, how shredded apart, how fucking pretty he is.

After all, he and Laken have been together for more than a year, and he still held perfectly still for Nova to touch him before he remembered how to move. After all, he’s a grown man who still cried and fell apart when Jake was hurt. After all, after all, after all...

He scrambles across the floor for his phone again, turns it back on. Part of him hopes he’ll see a new text saying they take it back, they didn’t mean it. Or just asking him to apologize for what he’d said that night before, for how he’d thrown their confusion over his reaction to something back at them, echoing out the way Kauri fights sometimes, talking about himself the way he thinks everyone else might be thinking about him, so he says the insult first and no one else gets to surprise him with it.

But there’s nothing new.

He manages to open the texts again, barely, and breathes in gasps, nearly pants, as he types out, you don’t want me at your place?

Not right now.

Is it because of what I can’t do?

It takes them a minute to answer. Every single second ticks by with a slowness Chris hasn’t felt since his days in the cold white room, tied down to stillness, forced to endure every minute that passed in perfect silence or to the soundtrack of his own tears and pleading for it to stop.

When they do respond, it’s just, it’s because of what you won’t do.

His breath catches in his throat. The ache in his head starts to pound harder, and he has to close his eyes against a sharp stab behind them. 

What he won’t do.

They’ve never cared before. How-... how could they suddenly care now? The fight had only a little bit been about that, it’d really been about something else. About his nightmares, how he’s not sleeping, not seeing his friends, skipping therapy. It hadn’t even been about... that. About what Chris can do and what he can’t, in bed. 

But that was the thing - the fight had started when Chris had flinched back from Laken’s touch to his back, and snapped at them, and accused them of wanting too much, and...

And now this.

It’s like they knew about Nova. Knew that he could be good just fine - better than fine, Handler Petrus said he was one of the best he’d ever worked with once - he just... wouldn’t. Won’t. Doesn’t want to. Never wanted to. 

Can’t do it without tearing himself to pieces all over again. 

It was always a scream inside his mind, but should he have pushed it down and tried harder to be more like everyone else? Is he losing Laken because of it? Did Nova pick up on something Chris himself doesn’t know?

Should he have... tried?

Even if it hurt?

He drops the phone again, then kicks it viciously under his bed, listening to the scrape of it sliding across the floor, the thump as it hits the wall. He hears it vibrate again, but this time he doesn’t care what Laken has to say.

They’ve said enough.

He understands.

Part of him expected this eventually.

He leaves the room, doesn’t bother to pull on his compression shirt, even. He lets his skin prickle bare and exposed to the air. He accepts the discomfort, the uneasy feeling of being too seen, too felt. 

The house is quiet, this early. 

He makes himself toast with butter, wincing at the scrape of the knife against the crisp bread, the sound boring into his ears. But eventually it’s done, and he slumps into a chair at the kitchen table, willing himself to cry. Somehow, the tears just... don’t happen.

He can hear Jake snoring softly from the living room. He’d been up with Chris until nearly 4 am, then Chris was awake again at 6:30, looking at that text, looking over and over and over again. Two hours of sleep leave him weirdly euphoric alongside his despair. Like he’s floating in some nightmare place that isn’t awake and isn’t sleeping, either.

He’s probably slept nine hours in three days at this point. He keeps seeing Jake with a knife sticking out of him every time he closes his eyes. Jake, screaming as Antoni pushed cloth into his wound to stop up the bleeding. Jake with a bullet wound, sitting up against the wall, staring at him with wide eyes whispering, It’s okay, Tristan, I love you, it’s okay as he dies. 

He can’t sleep. He can’t leave for long. He can’t breathe. He can’t think.

Him being what he is, it’s the reason Jake is hurt. If he hadn’t been his brother, he wouldn’t have decided to run a house for Romantics, and he wouldn’t have ended up dealing with all the dangerous bits about them.

Jake said it himself, didn’t he? It’s a mistake, running a house for Romantics. Not his best idea. A mistake.

Chris is a mistake.

Him being weak, and cowardly... it’s hurting Jake, making his life harder.

He makes everyone’s life harder.

There’s a soft sound of footsteps behind him, and he turns to find Nova in the doorway, staring back. She’s in a sleeveless gray dress and has her long dark hair pulled back from her temples, spilling in a waterfall down her back. Her eyes are dark and fathomless, and she gives him a faint, slight smile.

She had smiled like that with one hand down his pants.

Chris turns around, too fast, his head spinning a little, and hunches over his toast. “Good... good, um, good morning,” He mumbles. 

She clears her throat. “Morning. Chris, about-... about last night...”

“Don’t, um, don’t-... don’t don’t don’t worry about it.” He takes a breath. He doesn’t want his toast any longer. 

“I’m sorry,” She says, simply. “I spoke to Sarita about it, and... and she said this happens with us, and I should apologize, but, um. So I am. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-... I thought I was helping.”

“I... know you did.” His words are slowing down. Chris can’t hold on to his thoughts, they want to drift away somewhere else, somewhere safer. Somewhere darker. 

“When I was with-... with my Miss, she would always say, if you are sad the best way to fix it is to make your body forget that feeling, replace it with something else. And that was what we replaced my sadness with. So, you were sad and upset, and I thought I could fix it that way.” She pauses, flushing a little, looking down and to the side as she moves with effortless grace to get a glass and fill it with water, take a small sip. 

“Kauri used to... to do that,” Chris says after a pause, thinking about it. Kauri, who would show up in the small hours of the morning reeking of liquor and someone else’s cologne, or just didn’t show up at all. Kauri, who would laugh instead of crying, and laugh with someone’s arms around him, a guy whose name he didn’t know. 

Kauri, who ran and ran and ran and can do things and be things that Chris can’t.

Or... won’t.

What if he’s been hurting Laken this whole time and didn’t know it, because he was already hurt himself?

His foot starts to tap tap tap on the floor until he stops it. 

“Did he? Did it-... work for him?” Nova asks it with genuine curiosity, and her eyes are so pretty. He looks up at her, and then down again, pushing the plate of toast away from himself. 

“I don’t know,” Chris whispers. “I, I don’t know. He’s happy now, but...”

“Was he happy then?”

“No. But, but, but... maybe we aren’t supposed to be. At least... not with, with anyone... who isn’t like us.”

“Jake isn’t like us,” Nova points out. Her presence in the room feels heavy, like a weight pushing down on him. But what does it matter? He’s not with Laken anymore, anyway. If he wanted to, he could stand right up and kiss Nova right now, press her back into the counter, and learn what it’s like to be the one doing things and not just having them done to him.

But his body doesn’t stir at the thought. It never has.

“He is,” Chris answers. “A, a little bit. I’m, I’m, I’m sorry, too, Nova. Sorry that I-I can’t.”

“No, I know. You have a partner, and I shouldn’t have-”

“I don’t have... I, I, I I don’t have a partner anymore.” Chris stands up, leaving her there with his plate of untouched toast. The sky outside is bright as the sun rises, as if mocking the way he feels like a stormcloud inside. 

Nova watches him leave, and whispers to herself, “No partner?”

Chris goes outside, pulling a sweatshirt that hangs on the coatrack on over his head to protect his skin, curling up on the porch swing and watching cars pulling out of driveways as the neighborhood starts to head to work in ones and twos. 

He doesn’t cry.

He sits very, very still, and he is silent. 

Upstairs, under the bed, his phone vibrates, again and again, unnoticed.

Just go talk to Nat, Chris. That’s all I said. Just go see Nat and get a night or three away from the house. Being there all the time is overwhelming you. Are you even looking at these? Chris you can’t just ignore me every time I say something you don’t like Chris answer me ... ... Oh shit, Chris, my phone autocorrected earlier and I didn’t notice I meant “some time at Nat’s”, not apart Chris? Are you seeing my messages? Baby? Chris, please check your phone and answer me. Please.

-

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @whumpfigure @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Touch it for Real, Part 9

Genre: Humor / Fluff / Angst / (Eventual) Smut 18+

Warnings: OMG they were roommates / slice of life / slow burn / mutual pining / crude humor / cursing / virgin!baek / idiots to lovers / unresolved sexual tension

Characters: Baekhyun X You/Female Reader

Description: You teach Baekhyun how to date. (Basically the Get You Alone M/V)

A/N: DO NOT YELL AT ME! It is going to be okay. 

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5 , Part 6 , Part 7 , Part 8  , Part 9 , Part 10

You had a secret.

For such an abstract and shapeless thing you could sure feel it sitting in there.

It was pulsing.

Your secret felt like a splinter lodged just under a single taste bud that sat in the center of your tongue. You could feel your white blood cells attacking it, trying their best to push it up and push it out, but still it clung tight with its sharp barbs lodged within your cell walls. You brushed your tongue against your teeth.

The secret did not budge.

What you knew about them though, was that secrets did not like to stay hidden forever.

Your fork slipped and clanked noisily against the ceramic plate and the bright orange carrot ball rolled across the smooth white surface nearly sliding over the edge onto the white linen. Whoever decided that your steamed vegetables needed to be shaped into spheres simply for aesthetics should be forced to come out here and explain how you were supposed to spear one of these things while also avoiding the risk of it shooting across the table and hitting your date in the face.

Ben turned out to be very nice. If you were into tall, handsome, clean-looking, and responsible guys who drove their own cars and also had things like health insurance and retirement plans. When you first saw him, you were struck by the firmness you felt when he shook your hand and smiled brightly at you. He had all of his teeth and a head full of hair. He was definitely walking around on his real legs too. He looked like the kind of guy who didn’t let the clean laundry sit in the dryer for longer than a day and changed out his toothbrush every three months. You couldn't see a single fault.

You were trying your best to make a good first impression.

Really, you were.

Well, while also keeping an eye on Baekhyun who sat beside you with his focus down on his plate as he sliced his food into bite sized bits. His control of the fork and knife felt so careful and so exacting, it neared obsession. He had not ordered the steamed vegetables. None of his food rolled.

Across from him, looking just as cute in person as her online dating profile pictures conveyed, was Mia.

Mia was fine.

She was fine.

You didn't want to get into it.

Her clothes were fine. They were exactly the kinds of clothes you had expected she would wear.

Her hair was fine.

She actually had a hairstyle that reminded you of one of the characters in an anime you watched with Baekhyun once and you wondered about the upkeep costs of that particular shade of blue that streaked through her hair. You wondered if she had to switch to blue towels and blue pillow cases or if everything in her house was just stained forever.

Baekhyun’s cheeks blushed when he shook her hand and his smile was bashful, if not a bit tight when she complimented his glasses. Your mind briefly considered the plush, expensive white towels you both owned at home and a flash of horror overcame you for a split second when you imagined those towels streaked with a blue stain from the shower.

He bought those glasses at a store. Anyone can go to the store and buy glasses. Did such a superficial compliment really warrant such a deep shade of pink on his cheeks?

You took a sip of your glass of wine and the sweet, cool liquid had a tart aftertaste that lingered on your taste buds long after you swallowed and you stabbed roughly at the runaway carrot again, impaling it with the prongs of your fork.

Finally.

“I got it,” you said out loud to yourself with a wide smile and you held your prize up in front of your face for a second. Long enough for your eyes to drift across your table to meet Ben’s and you caught the soft amused chuckle that puffed from his nose.

You’d already gotten through the backstory. Starting with the curious question from Mia about how you and Baekhyun got to know each other and you took a quick glance toward Ben as Baekhyun explained that you and he had been roommates for a couple of years. You caught the slight smile on Ben’s lips as he looked down into his water glass and you wondered if he was pleased that he already knew the answer to this question as you had been quick to tell him this important detail about your life as you chatted with him during the last week or so.

Mia on the other hand simply let her eyes drift over from Baekhyun’s face to land on yours for a moment and you offered a disarming smile by way of explanation. Not that either of you had any explaining to do. You could live with whoever you wanted to live with. It took her ten seconds to return your smile, although you didn't quite believe it, or believe that she was done with her curiosities about this topic.

You couldn't really blame her although you’d given her nothing to be suspicious about. Not in the last 20 minutes since you’d all arrived and nibbled on shared appetizers, at least.

Hell, you hadn’t even touched him all day. From before you both arrived at this fancy restaurant and just relinquished your coats to some stranger simply because she held a hand out and sported a severe enough hairdo and manic look in her eyes that was too frightening to question. From the morning when you woke up and wandered into your kitchen to make toast for one and you ignored the sound of his feet shuffling in, half-asleep to grab a yogurt from the fridge. You hadn’t even helped him style his hair; which looked stunning, by the way, with the waves and the faded brown color that absolutely looked like something the perfect boyfriend would let you play with as he laid on your lap. He hadn’t even asked for your help picking out his outfit. He’d simply done it all on his own and waited for you by the front door wearing those jeans and smelling like that familiar scent that he bought for your date with him weeks back.

When had this all become so awkward? You’d never been afraid to touch Baekhyun before but now, well, the touches hadn’t ever concealed quite so much meaning before.

By the time the entrees arrived the conversations had moved on to hobbies and interests.

Ben was a movie buff, and his favorites were mostly mainstream blockbusters of the Marvel Superhero variety. He enjoyed many of the genres of films you’d mostly seen just the previews of. His top ten contained a bit more horror than you were comfortable with. One in particular, a prolific film based on a Steven King novel, had been the kind of psychologically terrifying film that made your chest rattle and you had spent most of the second half of that movie with your face buried in Baekhyun’s arm begging him to just describe to you what was happening and to tell you when the scary parts were over.

When he asked you what your favorite movie was you hesitated for a moment before pulling the movie Forrest Gump out of basically thin air. Yes you had enjoyed the movie. Yes it was something you’d seen more than once and if it was on television right now you would sit down and watch it from start to finish and you would enjoy it. It was a respectable favorite to have. It was the kind of favorite movie you would not be embarrassed to show to your grandmother.

But it wasn’t actually your favorite and you could feel the burden of Baekhyun’s eyes as he turned his head to look at your face when you said it.

Something about naming, out loud with your own lips — the light and fun, mindless guilty pleasure of the film that was actually your favorite movie that you’d watched hundreds of times and returned to watch again and again every time you felt even a little bit upset; something about saying it out loud to this table of people with countless of hours of media consumption under their belts and opinions about things like prolific directors, production companies, hefty CGI budgets, and overused, tired tropes that absolutely should be dropped in 2021, well it just felt too vulnerable for you to say out loud.

You swallowed a sip of your wine and refused to turn your head to look at Baekhyun until you heard the sound of his throat swallowing the ice water he sipped.

When Mia changed the topic to Anime you felt Baekhyun come alive beside you and Ben slinked back in his seat a little as the two of them got to talking about something that was highly anticipated and was slated to be released next year. Rumors about artists and directors with names you could not know flew easily from their lips and Mia mentioned the name of one previous work that you recognized.

In fact you had watched the entire thing last year with Baekhyun and you remembered talking excitedly about it with Mia during one of your early text conversations.

Your face lit up and you happily joined in, excited to finally know what in the world they were talking about when you accidentally let something slip when you reminded her of what she had said about the anime before. Luckily you stopped yourself before you could admit that you had actually been the one she had been chatting with at the time.

Still, she caught it. She was very quick and sharp and you watched her face as she registered that you’d referenced something that only Baekhyun should know about. Had you just fucked up?

“Ahh, we,” you raised your index finger and waved it lightly toward where Baekhyun had stiffened up in his seat beside you, “he told me about what you said.”

There was a moment when her eyes widened and she looked at Baekhyun briefly before returning her focus to you.

“He...told you about me?” She lifted a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, straightened her back and leaned forward with her forearms rested in front of her plate on the table. Her off-the-shoulders number dipped when she leaned in and you caught a bit of black lace and the bunch up of her impressive bosom.

She smiled a coy smile aimed across the table.

You followed the smile and your eyes reached Baekhyun. He’d been hit with the smile and had been too stunned to return it. Instead, he lifted a hand and rubbed it over the back of his neck twice before reaching the same hand forward to grab the ice water he’d been sipping all night as he pulled in a mouthful and puffed his cheeks before covering his lips with his flattened palm and swallowing noisily.

“I also mentioned you to my friend,” Mia said not quietly enough for it to be just for him and you dropped your eyes down to the half finished chicken on your plate.

She was fine. Mia was fine. She’d done absolutely nothing wrong. She was nice and she was probably a good person, but you kind of wanted her to die.

“So,” Ben interjected suddenly and you looked across the table at him as you tried to conceal the surprise on your face to find him sitting there.

You noticed he was done with his food and his plate had already been cleared away by the super attentive waitstaff.

The negligence of your own date weighed heavily on you and you angled your chest forward to face him directly for whatever questions he had for you.

He was pointing toward Baekhyun and Mia with his extended finger and raised eyebrows.

“You two work in computers?” It was a work question. He’d gathered this much from the brief introductions everyone had given and while you had failed to offer any insight as to what you did for a living, Baekhyun and Mia had both mentioned computers.

“He’s a software engineer, and I’m a programmer. Similar but not the same,” Mia explained. You weren't sure of any of the details or of how they were different. You hadn’t really put much thought into it. You knew Baekhyun worked the magic with the keyboard and could fix anything that you happened to break.

“I’m in advertising. Just got scouted by Comma Entertainment and I’ve accepted.” Ben had a hand raised to his chest and his eyebrows were up. This seemed important to him and you let your lips form into an impressed O shape as you raised your eyebrows. His tone and the way he said the name of his new employer seemed to warrant the excited reaction.

You weren't familiar at all with his industry but you knew how to react like you knew what he was talking about. He certainly seemed impressed by himself. Who were you to discourage his enthusiasm.

“You’ve heard of it?” You sold it too well. Baekhyun had leaned close to you and whispered an aside question and you shot him a tense look with your eyes as a warning, but you quickly pushed your smile wide for Ben who was, deservedly, very excited about his new position.

“Of course, who doesn’t know Comma for advertising. That’s a very big deal. Is that why you were so busy last week? We hardly got to talk.”

Your subject change was so slick. If you hadn’t been the one to do it, you’d have been impressed by it. The disappointed pout on your face sold it well.

“Actually I was at the bank a lot last week. It was so weird. I had a few accounts that seemed to be hacked but then it turned out to be nothing. Had to change all my passwords though, so that was annoying.”

“That sucks. They didn't take anything did they?” Mia spoke up from beside Ben; concern written all over her face.

“No. Whoever did it just seemed to access purchase histories mostly. Some loser of a hacker. Didn't even get any money.” Ben’s lips pulled wide and he was laughing with his head thrown back at his perceived victory over the hacker that had been messing around in his bank records.

“You can learn a remarkable amount of information about a person’s bad habits from their bank history, Ben. Sure utilities and rent; that’s boring. You can find out how often someone gets hammered at bars. How many of those bars are also strip clubs. How many maxed out credit cards they make minimum payments on each month just to keep their head above water. Their gambling losses and the motel rooms they book in the bad part of town…”

Baekhyun was speaking up beside you. You turned and you looked at his profile as he spoke so candidly and with what you could only describe as a certain smugness on his voice.

The only reason he’d stopped talking was to catch his breath. It was the most he had spoken all night and you honestly felt taken aback by the suddenness of his words and more, the topic he spoke on. It felt weirdly pointed. It just felt so detailed; almost accusatory.

“What?” You hissed the question; focused it hard and as under your breath as possible to the man seated beside you.

His lips closed up before his eyes turned to look at you and you caught a quick blink of his eyes that preceded a softening of his features that had no business looking that confrontational in the first place.

“I’m not saying any of that stuff applies to Ben.” Baekhyun lifted a slim dismissive hand to wave toward your date. “It’s just an example. For all we know Ben’s only weakness is eating fried chicken every day.”

Ben’s lips were pulled into a thin line on his face and his jaw unclenched when you looked back at him. Then he was smiling at you and it was bright and convincing. You smiled back at him and shook your head at your wacky roommate’s antics.

“Actually it’s pizza. You caught me buddy, I’m a hardcore pizza addict. Every night.”

“Well, not tonight.” Baekhyun shrugged with an odd smile landing on his lips.

Ben’s tight smile flattened and the two men seemed to be staring at each other for longer than you thought was polite for a shared first double-date.

“So what is it that you do?” It was Mia who ultimately broke the tension and you looked across the table into her eyes. She had a pleasant smile on her face and was still chewing on a piece of bread, clearly unbothered by the strange standoff that had just been going on between the two men at this table.

Surely you weren't the only one to notice how odd it had been. Had you just imagined the tightness in Baekhyun’s fist that laid over his thigh and the hard glare in Ben’s eyes?

With Mia’s question though, you felt your own lips pull closed and your eyes danced around the table to the other curious parties who also were now looking at you to answer the question.

You’d prepared well for this date. You’d made sure Baekhyun had the detailed first date topics, questions and answers for perfect small talk, even the section on table etiquette. You’d made sure he knew you’d be here to steer the conversations toward topics he was comfortable discussing and you’d even set up a safety signal he would use if he wanted to bail and just go home.

You’d planned it all out, down to the detailed progression of the evening and how at the end someone might even suggest going together for drinks. And should one of the dates wish to split off, it would be completely okay as long as the corresponding person felt comfortable. You’d even promised that under no circumstances would you abandon Baekhyun to do this on his own if he didn't want to. Not even at the behest of Ben, your date.

They were looking at you and you'd gone quiet. You’d been so busy preparing for this date that it never occurred to you that you were also actively involved and that someone might possibly ask a question about you and your work.

Your work. Well…

“Uhh...I don't really do anything worth mentioning.”

You felt it. It was a warmth that had pooled in the skin around your nose. Your cheeks felt warm and you felt just insignificant enough for it to take your undeserved confidence and throw it out the window.

Ben and Mia were watching you. You pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth and bit down on the dry chapped skin on the surface.

“Nothing?” Ben said and his eyes were wide with a look of confusion on his face.

“Well, not nothing.” You were not completely unemployed. You had been quite impressive before. You’d been working with the best publicists of an entertainment company and had been in charge of crafting and perfecting the asset sheets of many of your company's highest profile artists. You’d been the best at it and at one time had been highly sought out for your expertise. You had a way with it. You could work some real magic. You could make a dud of a raw potato sound like a five star course in a Michelin star restaurant. Losing your position in the spring of 2020 had really been a huge blow to your confidence. You looked back at how far you had fallen. Boring data entry jobs to make ends meet. Taking on weird side gigs so you could afford tiny luxuries like your favorite scented lotion or the name brand tampons instead of the store brand.

“I do have a job.” You added lamely. “It’s just not at all interesting.”

Ben dropped his eyes from yours and Mia shrugged her shoulders and stabbed a carrot ball expertly on the first try.

“Yeah but what is it?” Mia said as she chewed daintily. The heat in your cheeks spread and you let your eyes wander away from hers over the various dinner items that covered this table.

Beside you, Baekhyun’s movement caught your eye and you turned to see him place an elbow on the table in front of him and he leaned forward.

“She’s a dating coach. She’s really good at it, but much too modest when she talks about herself.”

Oh no. He wasn't about to spill the beans was he? This was definitely not something in the approved list of first date dinner topics. Wasn't this topic too incriminating? Wouldn't Mia put two and two together and figure out that you had been coaching Baekhyun all along? Also, wasn't this new profession of yours too brand new to start talking about so freely like this? What the hell was he doing?

“A dating coach? What’s that?”

Strangely, Mia didn't seem to be looking at Baekhyun with wheels turning and sirens blaring. She was looking at you with her mouth empty and hung open with a look of genuine interest in her eyes.

“Do you like, feed them what to say in an earpiece?” Ben was speaking up from the other side of Mia and you laughed at the absurdity of such a silly rom-com movie cliche.

“Well no. I’m not a pickup artist. I am a dating coach. Think about it like a sports coach. I am teaching my clients the skills to play the game. Skills to overcome dating anxiety, or I’m teaching them to identity and move away from self-sabotaging behaviors, limiting beliefs, or preconceptions that are detrimental to a healthy relationship.

I have clients that don't even know where to begin. My goal is to strategize with them and place them effectively within the dating scene so they stand the best chance. It’s incredibly hard to be objective about your own love life, but I provide an outside viewpoint. I step in and intervene when I see something that isn't in line with their relationship goals or the vision they have for dating.

I’m not teaching manipulation or just telling them what to say. There are no love spells to make someone fall in love with you. I’m changing the way they believe in themselves so they can present themselves to someone else in the absolute best way to begin a real relationship with someone.”

You’d been leaning in as you spoke animatedly with your hands. You felt the genuine excitement building with your words. You were surprised at how much of your previous profession’s language applied to this new exciting endeavor you were embarking on, but there really were tons of overlapping similarities between the two fields. The explanations just poured out of you.

You hadn’t said any of this out loud before to anyone but the more you talked about it, the more elated you felt about what you were doing with your life. With how much you had been helping Baekhyun and how much progress you had seen in just one day of helping your clients — Baekhyun’s friends Minseok and Sehun. Sehun had finally, finally sent you his first selfie that wasn’t taken from his lap after you’d sent him many examples of good selfies taken from different angles. Minseok was already halfway through the materials you’d sent him to study and had been working hard on identifying and changing the self-defeating language he’d used in his rough draft dating profile.

“She has an app.” Baekhyun piped up from beside you. He’d leaned back in his chair as you spoke.

Both Ben and Mia’s faces mirrored each other’s. Their eyes were wide and their mouths hung in amazement and you quickly closed up your own mouth and grabbed anxiously at your wine glass, feeling a little bit embarrassed about having talked so much. You couldn't resist the chance to smash their misconceptions about what your goals actually were with helping your clients. None of these people were unlovable. They were all worthy of finding someone and you were going to give it your all to help them see their own value.

“Not at all interesting?” Mia spoke up, “that’s super interesting. That’s really, really cool. Can—Can I have your contact info? I have a friend that would be interested in your services.”

“You have an app too? This is something we could advertise online. It would do extremely well on certain kinds of reddit forums and definitely in most online gaming communities.” Even Ben sounded excited, if not a bit overly judgmental, and you heard a quiet, but hostile scoff next to you.

You ticked your head toward the sound but did not turn to look at him. You knew that scoff well enough to hear the annoyance in his voice at whatever he thought Ben might be insinuating about online gamers and the connection to the incels that haunted the forums of reddit.

“I think it’s a bit premature to think about online advertising. I’m still only one person.”

Ben smiled and shrugged off your quick dismissal of his idea to partner up and advertise your business to the desperately lonely and pathetic gamers of the world. Hell, the more you thought about it, the less inappropriate Baekhyun’s annoyance was. Ben could use some coaching on choosing less insulting words.

Thankfully the dinner was over and the check had been taken care of. You looked away from the palpable awkwardness that slapped you across the face when Baekhyun waved away Ben’s card and paid for the entire bill with his own.

“You can get me next time, buddy.” He definitely said this word sarcastically. It was out of line and you simply could not find the right moment to pinch his leg under the table to get him to behave himself in a discrete enough way that would not get you caught by the other two people at this table.

You let it slide simply because you had no way to stop it. He was ignoring the way you waved your finger frantically at him down by your calf. You knew he could see you in his peripherals.

No, Baekhyun. Stop that. Be nice. Your hand was saying. He wouldn't even look at it.

The dinner was over and the movie was starting soon. You’d picked a restaurant that was close enough to the theatre that you could walk.

You paired off. It was far from natural. You actually caught Baekhyun’s eyes as you stepped quickly and walked ahead of him, falling into step beside Ben and you left behind Baekhyun and Mia to bring up the rear. It took every ounce of self control not to turn around and look behind you to see how closely they walked to each other. To see if Baekhyun kept his hands shoved securely in his pockets or if he swung his arms at his side as he walked, inching a hand closer and closer to Mia’s swinging hand in the hopes of a back of the hand brush of his warm skin against hers.

Your steps must have stalled. You’d reached the theatre and you looked up to locate Ben, only to find him at the box office purchasing four tickets for the movie you’d all agreed to watch days ago. For the life of you, you couldn't remember what you were seeing. You merely followed where you were led and found yourself seated in a center row of a movie house sandwiched between Ben and Baekhyun. You noticed the center armrests had been lifted when you arrived and simply did not bother to lower them since everyone was too full from dinner for any movie snacks or drinks.

The house was mostly empty and then lights dimmed as the movie began. You searched your brain and nearly pulled out your phone to check your chat logs for the name of the film but decided against shining a tiny bright light in a dark room.

The movie began and you were quickly drawn into the narrative. It was a dark film and as the soundtrack began to take on more sinister sounding tones you recognized that your heart was racing and you were feeling the tension all over your body. It was not a gorey horror film, but it was leaning more toward the psychological suspense thriller genre. Not really something you watched much of.

To your left, Ben sat completely still; focused only on the movie screen. He looked so calm and nearly unaffected by the terrifying things happening on the screen. He occasionally shifted in his seat but did not react to the jump scare that flashed before your eyes and made you flinch hard in your seat. You’d reached the point in the film when the main characters were in genuine danger and you began to wonder if anyone would make it out of this movie alive. Was this one of those films where everyone was doomed?

It happened again, another jump, another loud shocking sound and another noise startled you and you dove to your right, hiding your face in the warm shoulder of the man sitting beside you.

The realization was instantaneous. The second you felt the warmth of his arm, and the smell of him hit your nose, you pulled your head up and you straightened out your spine, mumbling a quiet apology to Baekhyun for using his arm to hide behind as you removed any and all contact points you had with his body. You angled your hips and your knees away from him and even went so far as to stick your hands well under your own thighs and keep them there so you didn't grab for him again. You had been doing so well by not touching him at all today. Why did it have to be a scary movie?

Things grew more frantic on the screen. You held your breath and tried your best to keep from reacting as much as you could. How long was this movie? How much longer did you have to endure this? You should have paid more attention to the details of this part of the date. This was your own fault. You were acting like a big baby because you couldn't handle a little frightening scenes in a movie.

It was coming again. You could feel it building. You closed your eyes and terrible sounds were erupting all over. You would just not look. You could make it through if you just didn't look. With your eyes closed the sounds felt louder than ever and when you thought you couldn't take it anymore you considered committing the enormous sin of getting up during the climax of the movie to use the bathroom just so you didn't have to sit through this anymore.

There was a shift beside you then. You felt warm fingers inching down your forearm, traveling the path your hand took that led below your thigh and someone was reaching for your hand and pulling it out from where you’d been sitting on it. Someone to your right was gripping your hand with his own warm hand and you opened your eyes to look down between the hidden space between your hip and Baekhyun’s hip. There, you saw the grip of his hand that wrapped securely around yours.

He squeezed down once and you followed the length of him up to catch a glimpse of the side of his face. He was looking up at the screen. His eyes were open and he did not flinch at all. He was so still aside from the occasional movement of his lips when he moistened them with his tongue.

You could handle this if he lent you a little bit of his strength like this. Your eyes returned to the screen but your mind wandered back down to the secure comfort you felt in his hand.

You felt your own secret throb.

It made you flinch just a little bit and Baekhyun’s hand shifted then. He moved, lifting the tight grip for a moment and you wondered if he was done, would he take his hand back and leave you cold and afraid again? The lift was for the shift of his fingers and you felt the push of each digit between yours. He pushed his fingers between yours; interlocking your hands together with his and his thumb moved lightly over your own thumb, brushing comforting strokes again and again through the loud and scary and shocking scenes that played over that screen.

This time the racing you felt in your chest had nothing to do with the scary movie. He was touching you. He was holding your hand in secret. It felt forbidden with his date sitting right beside him like she was and with your date seated right beside you like he was. All of your attention was down on the slow pressure you felt from his thumb as it traced the shape of your own thumb down from the very bottom up to the tip, around again. The simple up and down had a slow and sensual rhythm to it. When he lifted his hand his thumb moved and you held your breath to feel that same very slow touching trace the outline of the palm of your hand again and again. He drew absentminded shapes into your skin with the pointed tip of his thumb and your eyes drifted closed as the longing grew within you. He followed the paths of the creases in your skin like a palm reader. He did not even need light to see them, he simply felt them and traced along the paths.

You let him.

You felt bewitched.

You loved him.

The credits rolled on the screen and the lights switched on. The change was abrupt. You were taken by surprise and shocked by it like you were from the jump scares in the film.

His warmth left you. His wandering light touch, his deliberate and careful exploration of the lines that made up the palm of your hand vanished.

Everyone was standing and everyone was walking out of the theatre house and your mind felt clouded and dazed but you followed where their steps led and you found yourself standing outside of the exit doors with the three other people who you entered with.

Baekhyun stood beside Mia and Ben occupied the space of the sidewalk square that you also stood inside.

It was the end of a night. You felt an overwhelming urge for this evening to be done so you could go home and shower and maybe eat something sweet and distracting and maybe made out of chocolate.

“Well this was fun,” it was your own voice that ultimately called it.

Mia had been looking at Baekhyun who had been looking down at his own feet as he lightly tapped his foot on the concrete below. Three taps.

Tap, tap, tap.

You felt a jolt of realization. Baekhyun had just tapped his foot thrice on the floor below him well within your sight and you recognized what that meant. He was feeling done. He was done with all of this exhausting socializing and being out in public with so many people around and he wanted to go home now. This was him asking you for help now as he wasn't sure how to end the date but wanted it to be over.

“What about...grabbing some drinks, maybe...” Mia was talking only to Baekhyun as she looked at him, “if you aren't too tired.”

“Hey Baek, isn’t your grandmother coming over early tomorrow? Do you still have to get ready for that?” You interjected suddenly and Baekhyun looked up into your face with his mouth open and you watched his eyes move slowly over your face as he recognized what you were doing. You were giving him an out. Mia had asked him to go for drinks and you were giving him an excuse, should he need it.

You both knew his grandma came every other Sunday. You both vividly remembered the wonderful visit you had at the beginning of the week with her and she wasn’t due to arrive again until next Sunday.

He could simply correct you if he really did want to go with her. He could call you a dummy and tell you that you had the wrong week again and playfully tap you on the head to jog your brain back into functioning the right way as he often did when you got something mixed up.

“Oh, yeah she is,” Baekhyun grabbed your convenient reminder from the air and smiled a rueful smile directed at Mia. His smile widened with the wince on his face, “that’s too bad.” He added and Mia took it well.

She smiled and nodded her head and there were well wishes for a safe trip home all around as you all parted ways.

Ben said he would text you later. Baekhyun told Mia the same and you waited until they both walked away to follow Baekhyun back to his car for the quiet ride home.

The silence was heavy, but it was comfortable.

Baekhyun didn't speak at all and you could tell by the way he carried himself that he was tired. He wasn’t normally an extroverted person and found it very draining to carry on a full conversation with friends he knew well. Strangers like he had been with tonight, well, you could see the fatigue in his movements and you knew he needed something warm to drink and maybe some comfort with a familiar favorite tv show to zone out in front of.

You handled it better. You were used to having to go out of your home occasionally and you even enjoyed socializing with your coworkers on the few days you went in to the office for work. You felt a bit drained but mostly you were preoccupied with watching how he was handling it and you were also burning with curiosity to know how Baekhyun felt about the whole thing.

He’d wandered into the living room and he found the sofa. You followed him close behind and grabbed the remote, flipping to a familiar and funny cartoon that you often saw him playing in the background as he worked on things. He didn't usually watch it that closely but it was comforting enough to stay on and keep his mind occupied for a while.

You didn't speak. Everything you had to ask him could wait. Even the scolding you had for him about how he acted toward Ben could also wait. You’d let the man breathe a little first.

You busied yourself in the kitchen making two cups of hot tea and when you returned you found his head leaning against the back of the couch with his eyes still glued to the screen. He had a passive smile on his face and he reacted positively to the wacky scenarios the characters found themselves in. He would occasionally speak out loud, speaking along with a funny line he knew by heart and you found it impossible to resist saying the follow up joke. You knew this show as well as he did.

He accepted the tea with a smile and had a few sips and you set your mug on the coffee table in favorable of the comfortable side of the sofa, the side with the pillows that allowed you to rest your head comfortably as you watched the big tv.

You were feeling pretty good. Baekhyun had now officially gone on his first date with a real girl who wasn’t you and he’d had a nice time. You could see from where you laid your head down how relaxed his face was as he giggled at the show.

You stretched and you felt his warm thigh with your foot. This sofa was long enough for you to stretch out completely and you only barely reached where he sat at the other side. You wiggled your toes, unable to resist the light messing with him that you often gave in to and his hand reached down to grab ahold of your foot, which he held in place as he paid attention to the tv.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you sat up a little bit to pull it out.

You saw a text message from Ben.

From the preview you got the idea of what kind of text message the man would be sending you an hour after your first, and apparently your last date with him.

-Hey you seem like a super cool girl, but...

The preview showed you enough to know that he was dumping you before you’d even gotten anything started with him.

You opened the text. Your curiosity outweighed your sense of self preservation.

-...but whatever’s going on between you and your roommate, well it doesn’t really seem like there’s much room for me. I just don't think I can start something knowing I’ve already lost. Thanks for inviting me tonight. The movie was fun. Good luck with everything. - Ben

You felt the sting.

You couldn't help it. You’d spent all evening watching Baekhyun interact with Mia with every ounce of your self control devoted to not letting your jealousy show at all. At one point you’d been so damn engrossed in them that you forgot Ben was even there. What an unfair and shitty situation to have put him in. You quickly keyed out an apology for your crappy date etiquette and thanked him for going out with you tonight.

You couldn't even blame him for anything. He had been sweet and he had tried his best to be the perfect gentleman. What had you expected?

You sent the last message you would ever send to Ben and tossed your phone roughly toward the coffee table. It bounced but landed in the middle.

The racket called Baekhyun’s attention and he turned to look at you with his eyebrows raised in question.

“Ben just rejected me.”

Somehow saying this out loud to Baekhyun felt better than hiding it from him. It felt less miserable than keeping it inside of yourself and letting yourself suffer the sting of the rejection alone.

Baekhyun’s lips pulled into a small frown and he took out his cell phone from his pocket and tossed it roughly on the coffee table beside yours. It took a similar bounce and your eyes widened in surprise at the sudden gesture.

“No way, not Mia too,” you said in genuine fear and Baekhyun shook his head with his shrug still well in place.

“Nah, I just can't lay down with my phone in my pocket,” he said as he wiggled on the sofa trying to get comfortable, “though in hindsight I can see how you would think that, sorry. Mia hasn’t texted yet.”

He was wiggling, finding no comfort in all the positions he tried and you caught his wandering eyes for a second as you lightly tapped a hand over your belly.

This…

This would be fine. This was something you both did sometimes. Baekhyun said your belly was warm and comfy and made the best noises and he liked to use you as a pillow when he was just too tired to go to his own bed.

He moved right away at your invitation and you let your legs part around his chest as he laid his head down right on top of you. He turned his head to face the tv and didn't even squirm too much before he sighed out loud. His arms laid on either side of your waist and you felt the constriction as he lightly squeezed around you.

You really hadn’t gotten to touch him all day. Your fingers found their way into his hair and you felt a low moan from the back of his throat travel though your body as you raked your nails down the back of his head to his nape.

“Peanut,” you said softly, feeling every little bit of the annoying little tickle of that stupid secret sitting inside of you.

You could feel the heaviness of his body as he gave in and relaxed his muscles on you. You felt every breath he took and they seemed to be changing as you played with his hair and he gave in to the relaxing comfort you offered him.

“Hmm?” He replied after a long while. You angled your face and could see that his eyes were closed.

“How was the date? Was it nice?”

You had so many hopes for him. You were trying your best to ignore the pangs of your own selfish jealousy and get past it all to get to something good for him. Something that would make him understand how incredible he was. How beautiful he was inside and out and how precious of a human being he was.

“Mhmm, I liked it.” He said softly and he shifted and you felt him tighten his hold around your waist briefly before he relaxed again.

“Did you really? Do you think you liked Mia?” You kept your voice strong. You did not allow your fears to overcome your voice. You were okay with this if he was okay.

He did not answer right away. You’d stopped playing with his hair and you kept your hand rested over his head. He was so warm. He was so lovely.

“Do you want me to like Mia?”

No.

Mia would be so good to him.

You did not answer. Your answer would have been no. It would have been selfish. You’d just been dumped by your date, how dare his date have gone so well. You’d both been on the same date. You could still see the way she looked at him. She found him just as lovely as you did.

You felt a thickness at the back of your throat and you swallowed it down.

“I’m trying, Bug. She’s very nice to talk to. Do you think I should like her?”

Was this because of his mistrust of people? Was this his shyness about letting someone he didn't know very well in close?

You couldn't respond. You did not trust yourself to do the right thing.

“You should go rest if you’re sleepy,” you said, you know, like a coward.

It took him a few minutes of laying on top of you before he realized that you were right and he would be much more comfortable in his own bed. He nodded and pushed up with his arms, and his eyes stayed closed and his head stayed hung down as his feet shuffled and he made his way into his bedroom, leaving his door open you merely heard the loud sound of him plopping down on his bed.

You were stuck where he left you.

Stuck in about as crappy a mood as you’d ever found yourself.

You hated everything about this. You hated how much you loved him and you hated how receptive he was to the idea of dating Mia. You hated how she looked at him and giggled at his small jokes and you hated HATED the way his cheeks blushed and the shy smiles he gave her when she talked to him.

You laid there and you stewed in your mood for longer than was good for you and the only thing that made your it up was the simultaneous buzzing that brought both of your cell phones to life on the coffee table.

You reached for yours. It’s as your dating coach app. Baekhyun had received a new message from Mia. The feelings that surged through you were taking over your sense of what was good and what was right and what was proper behavior for someone like you to participate in.

You swiped to read the message.

-Hi Baekhyun. Sorry I couldn't wait until tomorrow to text you. I had an amazing time tonight and I was wondering if you would like to meet up tomorrow after your Grandmother’s visit for coffee? I have something I’d like to ask you.

You felt as if your body was on fire.

You could feel it deep inside your chest, deeper still inside your belly where his head had been resting moments before. You felt it in the palm of your hand where his thumb had traced the patterns of lines there. You felt it in your lips that he had kissed and in your tongue ached inside of your mouth from your stupid secret.

You reached for your phone. You opened the app for the power he’d given only to you and you responded to her message as if you were Baekhyun.

-Hi, Yeah, that sounds fine. I’ll meet you at 1pm.

Your hands moved on their own. You moved to the internal commands of your app and you deleted both of the messages from the chat history. When you picked up his phone you saw the notification for Mia’s message vanish before your eyes and when you unlocked it and accessed his chat log, there was no sign of the unimaginable and unforgivable sin you had just committed against him.

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5 , Part 6 , Part 7 , Part 8  , Part 9 , Part 10

Tag list: @j-pping  @blahblahblah-boo  @his-mochi-cheeks  @amyeonzing@littleflowercrown13  @baekinmylife  @insta1010  @nana-banana  @f4ncyvelvet@bbhbeth  @totallynerdstuff  @byunbabybaek @maijinki @bbyunz@theclawofaraven @kingkushdealer  @uhobob @baekswifey​ @punchmebaekhyun @xlxbaekhyuneex

[kj-1130]

Nothing For Me

Part 7

Main Masterlist

Part 6|Part 8

     You and MJ’s relationship continued to grow as time went on. 

     As she started her first year of high school, you worked on yourself, wanting to be good for her.

     Overtime, you learned how to process and deal with things better. You focused on yourself and your developing relationship with MJ and needless to say, things started to look up. 

     The ‘present but not really present father’ thing didn’t affect you as much as it did, but it was still there. It was one of the only things you hadn’t fully processed and to be honest, you didn’t think you ever could. 

     Your father is there, and has been aware of presence for almost a decade. And not once has he given you any type of consolation or love like a father should. You would think after Pepper was getting more involved in his life and forcing him to clean up (most of) his act, he would open his eyes and realize that a whole human being was living with him, waiting for him to realize that they were supposed to be relying on him; not an AI built in the comfort of their room. 

     But nope. Absolutely nothing changed. If anything, things got worse. 

     He was away more often, focusing on the Avengers. Or he was with Pepper, the new love of his life. 

     You tried not to linger on the situation often, knowing it would only lead to pain in your chest. So you just stuffed it in the back of your mind, hoping one day that the pain would just lessen all together. 

     About two months ago, you and MJ had decided to make things official after going on your first date. At first you talked about how fast the two of you were going, but Michelle simply said ‘we’ll be u-haul lesbians then.’ That was the end of the conversation. 

     Currently, you and your girlfriend were facetiming. You would’ve made the trek to her house but she was about to study and you both knew that you’d distract her. Plus the two of you were due for some time away from each other considering the fact that you’re at her place almost everyday. 

     “Okay, so I found this recipe the other day and I’m just now remembering it.”

     MJ looks at you confused, “Okay?” 

     You roll your eyes playfully.

     “I wanted to try it with you. After my ban from your place has been lifted.” 

     “It’s not a ban,” she chuckled.

     “Well, it sure as hell feels like one ba-”     “Mr. Stark has arrived with a guest,” M.I.A cut you off. 

     “Who is this guest?” 

     “Secretary of State, Thaddues Ross,” the AI replied, pulling up pictures of the man. 

     “Hey M, I’m gonna call you back.”

     “Yeah, yeah,” she nods, looking a little concerned. “Take all the time you need. Let me know if everything’s okay.”

     The two of you give your goodbyes and you ask M.I.A to pull up the live footage from the conference room.

     “Perspective. The world owes the Avengers an un-payable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives… but while a great a=many people see you as heroes, there are some who would prefer the word “vigilantes”, is what you first hear when you start watching. 

     Immediately your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

     “And what word would you use, Mr. Secretary?” Natasha asks.

     “How about ‘dangerous’?” he replies. “What would you call a group of US-based, enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?”

     The secretary activates a screen behind him which begins to play the previous battles the Avengers and SHIELD have fought in. 

     “New York.” 

     He clicks a button, footage of chitauri, shooting guns, and Hulk smashing plays. 

     “Washington D.C”

     A new video appears, showing the insight helicarriers firing at each other with chaos following. 

     “Sokovia.” 

     The frame changes, showcasing the terrified citizens that were on the flying piece of land. 

     “Lagos.” 

     “That’s enough,” Steve interrupts. 

     Ross nods in response and begins his speech again. 

     “For the past four years, you’ve operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That’s an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have a solution.”

     He places a thick document on the table and slides it across to Wanda. As the team slides the book to each other Ross starts talking. 

     “The Sokovia Accords. Approved by 117 countries… it states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they’ll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel, only when and if that panel deems it necessary.” 

     “The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place,” the Captain begins. “I feel we’ve done that.”

     “Tell me, Captain, do you know where Thor and Banner are right now?” There was a momentary pause as the two men’s eyes met. “If I misplaced a couple of 30 megaton nukes… you can bet there’d be consequences. Compromise. Reassurance. That’s how the world works. Believe me, this is middle ground.”

     At this point, you’re walking out of your room after transfering the feed to your tablet and making your way to the elevator.

     “So, these are contingencies,” Rhodey states. 

     “Three days from now,” Secretary Ross begins. “The UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords. Talk it over.” 

     Natasha speaks up, “And if we don’t come to a decision you don’t like?”

     “Then you retire.” 

     The elevator stops and you look up seeing the Secretary walk in with someone behind him. You give him a subtle disgusted look before turning your attention back to the security footage.

     As the deathtrap descends, you can feel his eyes lingering on you. 

     “Can I help you?” 

     “You’re a little young to be an intern.” 

     “You’re a little old to be looking at me like that,” you shrug, swiping away from the video on your tablet as you feel him looking over your shoulder. 

     Ross gives an awkward chuckle and furrows his eyebrows. When you reach the bottom floor, he gets ready to step out and places a hand on your shoulder. 

     You look at him like he’s lost his mind. 

     “You seem like a good kid. Be sure to make good choices.” 

     Raising an eyebrow, you refrain from saying what you want to say. You lift your hand and gently take his off of you. 

     “Don’t touch me,” 

     Once he exits, you hear the chatting start back up.

     “Secretary Ross has a Congressional Medal of Honor,” Rhodes told Sam. “Which is one more than you have. 

     “So let’s say we agree to this thing,” Wilson starts. “How long is it gonna be before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?”

     “117 countries want to sign this. 117, Sam, and you’re just like, ‘No that’s cool. We got it.” 

     “I have an equation,” Vision announces as you get back on the elevator. 

     “Oh this will clear it up,” Sam mutters. 

     “In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. And during the same period, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate.“

     “Toaster oven’s got a point there,” you mumble, stepping back on the metal deathtrap. 

     Steve asks,“Are you saying it’s our fault?”

     “I’m saying there may be a causality. Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict… breeds catastrophe. Oversight… oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand.” 

     “Boom,” Rhodey says.                             

     You see Tony lying on the couch, quite relaxed, contradicting the tense atmosphere. 

     “Tony,” Nat starts. “You are being uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal.”

     “It’s because he’s already made up his mind,” Steve explained. 

     “Boy, you know me so well,” Stark starts, getting up and rubbing the back of his head. “Actually I’m nursing an electromagnetic headache,” he pauses to grab a mug of coffee. “That’s what’s going on, Cap. It’s just pain. It’s discomfort. Who’s putting coffee grounds in the disposal? Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?”

     Tony puts his phone in a basket and taps the screen. An image is projected of a smiling young man. 

     “Oh, that’s Charles Spencer, by the way. He’s a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. Had a floor level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul, before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn’t want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn’t go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where, Sokovia.”

     He pauses for a second as the team soaks in the information.

     “He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. I mean, we won’t know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass.

     “There’s no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I’m game. If we can’t accept limitations, if we’re boundary-less, we’re no better than the bad guys.”

     “Tony, someone dies on your watch, you don’t give up,” Steve rebuttals.

     “Who said we’re giving up?” 

     “We are if we’re not taking responsibility for our actions. This document just shifts the blame.”

     “I’m sorry. Steve,” Rhodey blurted. “That-that is dangerously arrogant. This is the United Nations we’re talking about. It’s not the World Security Council, it’s not SHIELD, it’s not HYDRA.”

      “No, but it’s run by people with agendas, and agendas change.”   

      “That’s good,” Tony starts. “That’s why I’m here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stopped manufacturing.  

     “Tony, you chose to do that. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don’t think we should go? What if there is somewhere we need to go, and they don’t let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own.”

     “If we don’t do this now, it’s gonna be done to us later. That’s a fact. That won’t be pretty.”

     Wanda finally speaks up, “You’re saying they’ll come for me.”

     “We would protect you,” Vision promised. 

     “Maybe Tony’s right,” the redhead speaks. “If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off--”

     “Aren’t you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?” Sam interrupts. 

     “I’m just… I’m reading the terrain. We have made… some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back. 

     “Focus up,” Tony says. “I’m sorry, did I just mishear or did you agree with me?”

     “Oh, I want to take it back now.”

     “No, no, no. You can’t retract it. Thank you. Unprecedented. Okay, case-closed--I win.” 

     From what you see, Steve stands to leave abruptly. 

     You then walk out of the elevator, tablet still in hand with the footage up. The captain walks past you just as you turn the corner and spot the team. 

     “Someone’s upset,” you hum. 

     You walk past everyone towards the fridge and grab a water bottle. 

     “Anyway, that was very childish. And kinda stupid.” 

     Inquisitive looks are thrown your way and you hold up the tablet awkwardly as you plop down on a chair. 

     “I was watching you. I kinda do that a lot. It’s not as creepy as it sounds.” 

     You open the bottle and take a sip. 

     “What are you doing down here kid--”

     “Ahhh,” you interrupt. “Don’t call me a kid. I haven’t been a child for years.”

     “Just answer the question,” Tony snaps. 

     “I like to stay informed. No one tells me anything and while you think that these private meetings only affect you, it doesn’t. It affects me too. You may not remember I’m your child but several people do. And that puts me in danger. So yes, I listen to your conversations to make sure it’s nothing I need to worry about.” 

     An awkward silence washes over as you gulp down more water. 

     “Anyway, I was just riding up and down the elevator waiting for you guys to finish. That Ross dude is kinda creepy by the way. But you’re really considering signing that thing?” 

     “Not you too,” your father mutters. 

      You let out a laugh and everyone looks at you strangely. 

      “Is this funny to you?” Rhodey asks. 

      “Yes,” you stop laughing abruptly. “I find it hilarious that this is the same government that was ready to drop a nuke on the city during the Battle of New York not giving a damn about a single civilian that was still in the area. I find it hilarious that this is the same government that lets thousands of children and women of color go missing and not do a thing about it. It’s funny that this is the same government that let HYDRA, Red Room, AIM; all that shit grow right under their nose. It’s funny because this government is the same one that uses taxpayer money for dumb ass projects and unnecessary military funding instead of using it to fund shit that helps the civilians they claim they care so much about. I mean how can you not find this situation amusing?”

     “Look,” Tony attempts. 

     “I’m not finished,” you challenge, looking him dead in the eyes. “This government don’t give a damn about y’all, especially not the three of us,” you say, gesturing to yourself, Sam, and Rhodey. “We’d be booted out of this country before you could even blink if they ever got the chance and you know that.

     “I don’t know why y’all are so adamant on gaining the government’s trust when they don’t give a flying fuck about you or these goddamn civilians. All they care about is power. They don’t care how many civilians come up missing or die in some tragic accident. It doesn’t matter what happens. When they see someone becoming richer or smarter or more powerful than they are, they will do anything to shut that shit down. 

     “I don’t understand how you can’t see that. And maybe it’s just me. Maybe it’s just me and my experience,” you pause, catching the gaze of every person in the room with hard eyes. You take a deep breath and try to calm down. “Sign it if you want to. Think about how many lives you’ll lose then.”

     You stand from your spot and walk into the open elevator, ready to get to the comfort of your bed. 

-

     It had been two days since the initial meeting and you were currently sitting on Michelle’s bed watching her read. 

     “You’re really pretty,” you muttered out of the blue.

     You saw your girlfriend’s cheeks develop a subtle red tint as she mumbled back a ‘thank you, and continued reading. You groan and gently pull the book out of her hands. 

     “Hey,” she quietly protests. 

     “Please,” you pout, holding your arms out as an invitation.

     MJ fondly rolls her eyes before lowering herself onto you. You hummed contently and squeezed her before planting a kiss on her cheek. 

     She surprised you by turning her head and giving you a lingering kiss. That one kiss soon turned into something more. 

     Michelle gently pushed you onto your back and straddled your hips. Bending down she kissed you once again, her lips gliding with yours. 

     This continued for a few minutes, taking small breaks in between to breathe. You don’t think you could ever get enough of her and hoped that she was feeling similarly.

     You kissed until your jaws hurt. The euphoric feeling still lingered as MJ rested her forehead against yours, trying to catch her breath. 

     “We should do that again sometime,” you mumbled. 

     Your girlfriend nodded in response, giving one more chaste kiss to your lips before dropping to your side. 

     “Tomorrow,” she said after glancing at the clock that read 10:47. 

     “Guess I’m spending the night then.” 

     “I have no problem with that.”

-

     The next day, you were awoken by beeping from your phone. Once you were fully aware of your surroundings you picked up the device and read the notifications that M.I.A sent through. Scanning through them, you sat up with urgency and played the video. 

     “A bomb hidden in a news van ripped through the UN building in Vienna. More than 70 people have been injured. At least 12 are dead, including Wakanda’s King T’Chaka. Officials have released a video of a suspect who they have identified as James Buchanan Bares, the Winter Soldier. The infamous HYDRA agent, linked to numerous acts of terrorism and political assassinations.”

     Carefully removing Michelle’s arm from around your waist, you stand up and move to the corner of the room. You press the contact and hold the phone up to your ear. 

      “Nat what the fuck is going on?”

     You hear the woman sigh on the other side of the phone.     “Look, just… stay wherever you are.”

     “Yeah, okay, whatever. I want answers, Nat.”

     “(Y/n),” she says firmly. “Calm down and go back to whatever you were doing. Right now, this does not concern you and I would like it to stay that way. Do you understand me?”

     There was some silence, before you let out a forced chuckle. 

     “Okay, whatever. Bye.”

     “(Y/n) c’mo--”

     You disconnected the call and gently tossed the phone onto MJ’s desk.     “You sound stressed.” 

     Turning around to face the bed, you see Michelle sat up and leaning against the headboard. You nod slowly and crawl your way up towards her. 

     “I am.”

     You feel her hand take hold of your clenched ones and she rubs them, causing you to relax slightly. 

     “There was a um, bombing at the--the um… signing thing. And no one wants to tell me what’s going on, so,” you end the sentence, shrugging. 

     MJ’s head drops onto your shoulder and you let her cuddle close. 

     “They told me to stay where I was. So hopefully we can get something good out of that.” 

     There was no response and you thought she had fallen back asleep, but you were proven wrong when your girlfriend started getting up. 

     “C’mon,” she instructed, holding her hand out when she saw the look of confusion on your face. 

     Taking her hand, the two of you made your way to the kitchen. 

     She turned around and grabbed your shoulders. 

     “We are going to make some breakfast… or lunch whatever. And then we are going to binge watch until we can binge watch no longer. Alright?”

     You nod your head, chuckling and then got to work. 

-

     It had been days since you last heard from anyone. No updates from Natasha. M.I.A even told you there hasn’t even been a great deal of movement in the compound. Today you decided you would head back. 

     When you arrived it was quiet. As you walked down the halls you heard distant chatter and followed it. 

     Turning the corner, you were surprised at what you saw. 

     “What the hell happened?”

     The two men turned to look your way, but you were given no answers. 

     Tony had bruises on his face and he looked more tense than usual. Rhodey had some sort of tech on his legs. 

     “You fought them. You fought them all, didn’t you?” 

     Both men looked away and avoided your gaze. 

     “You didn’t even listen to what I said. This is what the government does. I tried to tell you, but you didn’t even fucking listen,” you ranted, your voice slightly raising.

     “Us breaking apart wasn’t the government. Most of this is on some guy th--”

     “Well the government allowed it to happen so I’d say it is their fault!” 

     You turned to your father with pleading eyes. 

     “Where are they, Tony?”

     “Kid, they’re criminals now, I don’t--”

     “Stop calling me that! I’m--I’m not some kid. I’m not your kid,” you let out a frustrated breath. “You--you couldn’t talk it out? Like mature adults? You just had to go assert your dominance somewhere--in what? An--an airport? Some vacant lot? You just had to fight. Do you not know how to communicate?” 

     You looked at the two men, shook your head, and brushed past them. 

     Just when things were alright.

-

     “(Y/n)?” 

     “What M.I.A?”

     You were currently laying in your bed trying to control the tears that were begging to fall from your eyes due to the amount of overwhelming shit you had been hit with. You talked with MJ for a little while and while it helped a bit, you honestly were still feeling like… well shit.

     “There’s a package for you.” 

     Furrowing your eyebrows, you head down to where the mail is usually placed, get the package with your name on it, and head back to your room. 

     Grabbing a pair of scissors, you cut the tape and open the box. Inside was a letter and a phone. 

     Hey sweetheart.

     It was Natasha’s handwriting.

     I’m sorry. I really am. We all are. I wish things wouldn’t have ended this way, but they did and we can’t really do anything about it now. 

     I listened to what you said. I listened and I tried my best to understand. I don’t think I ever wanted to sign the accords in the first place. The only reason I did so was so that we could stay together. So that I could stay with you. This team is the only family I’ve had in a long time. The fact that that stack of papers could end that scared me. 

     I just kept trying to convince myself that signing the Accords was the right thing to do; anything to keep this team together. Anything to keep everything from falling apart. 

     But the more I thought about it, I realized. You were right. Everything you said. This government doesn’t care. And if the government doesn’t care like they’re supposed to then we need to. People need the government, but they don’t have it. They do have us though. And they always will. 

     I love you. I didn’t say it enough and I don’t know when or if I’ll ever get to tell you that again. You are so precious to me and I’m sorry I couldn’t stay. If you ever need anything, you can always give me a call. 

     You wiped your eyes and gently picked up the phone. You held it in your hands for a moment before setting it down. You folded the letter back up neatly and placed both items in the top drawer of your nightstand. 

     You laid back down on your bed with less tears on your face. 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Permanent Taglist

@stillmanicc​, @annestine​, @ymzki-haruki​

Nothing For Me Taglist

@littlegasps​, @leahnicole1219​, @thebadassass, @legendarymcnuggies, @big-galaxy-chaos​, @believinghurts​, @play-morezeppelin​, @vavilip​, @coollemonsaresour​, @ximaginx​, @xx-narcissa​

Marvel Taglist

@hateinthemorning​, @mylove4life​, @badbitchyonjii, @blueposthings​

[andypantsx3]

if i could keep cool | 1

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 20,322 words / 6 chapters

summary: A villain attacks Shouto Todoroki’s apartment and kidnaps what he apparently believes to be Todoroki’s secret lover. The bad news—for both you and the villain in question—is that you’re just there to clean the place. That’s how it starts.

tags: romance, reader-insert, accidental sugar daddy shouto, misunderstandings

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

You’d been alone inside Shouto Todoroki’s apartment when the villain attacked.

In your defense, you were supposed to be there. Twice a week, for three hours apiece, you turned up to clean the place, dusting, remaking his bed, and scrubbing down the modern kitchen surfaces that you were fairly certain were going unused in the first place.

You weren’t actually supposed to know who owned the high rise, but the personal effects he kept around hardly made any secret of it--a few simply framed photographs of him with his siblings and his friends at school dotted the shelves in the living room, crates of fan mail were often delivered to his door during your shifts, and you’d seen his hero costume dumped in a hamper on more than one occasion.

You’d been excited to find this out at first, as you were just as much a hero fan as the next girl--particularly heroes who were as handsome and infinitely memeable as Todoroki--but you’d tamped down on your enthusiasm in order to keep things professional. It would kind of suck to be a celebrity and find out that some rando fan let themselves into your apartment on the regular and could help themselves to your stuff if they really wanted to.

You had almost considered asking your manager for reassignment when you’d first figured out just whose apartment you were cleaning, in order to keep things purely professional, but Todoroki’s schedule worked well with your own class schedule, and the money didn’t hurt either. The tips either he or his manager left for you were pretty hefty, and it was nice to treat yourself to groceries that weren’t ramen. He was keeping you in fresh vegetables and a Netflix subscription, so in the end you didn’t ask for reassignment--you were a college student, not a saint.

In retrospect, though, maybe you should have. Because one afternoon in late September, the large wall of windows that looked out into the city shattered with violent force, and a huge figure landed in the living room, glass crunching underneath their heavy boots.

You’d just barely managed to catch sight of a wicked looking scar twisting half of the villain’s face before you’d thrown yourself behind the kitchen island you’d been wiping down, landing heavily on your shoulder. That hadn’t saved you, though. You’d been hauled out across the scattered glass, the shards scraping through your clothes to tear at your back and elbows, and looked up into the face of the furious-looking man.

You hadn’t had time to scream, or beg for your life, or whatever other insanely embarrassing thing you might have done, before a fist connected with the base of your skull, and you were falling into darkness, the man’s features and the clean lines of the apartment around you slipping into black.

Now, you awoke in the dark, a musty scent like dust and slow decay pressing into your nose like a heavy rag. Your eyes flickered open, but the world seemed just as dark as behind your eyelids. In the dim, you could just barely make out cement floors studded with dirt and debris, and gaping cutouts in the wall across from you, pitch black with shadow. They were rectangular in shape, and huge--truck ports, maybe? Were you in a warehouse?

You made to move, but something tugged at your wrists, and you realized with a growing sense of horror that your arms were bound behind your back with rough rope, looped through slats in the chair you’d awoken in. Your head whipped up, and the back of your neck screamed in protest, sore from what had likely been hours of you lolling unconscious.

The thin, wavering sound of something like a radio static filtered from somewhere over your shoulder, and you could just make out low tones of a radio broadcaster: “Pro hero Shouto Todoroki’s apartment was broken into early this afternoon...the perpetrator of the crime is still at large…”

That’s right--Todoroki’s apartment. Your heartbeat instantly kicked into high gear. Where were you? Why were you here? Who was that man in Todoroki’s apartment? Had he taken you here? But why?

A boot crunched in the dirt behind you and you stiffened.

“Awake now?” a voice spat, laced with pure malice. The tone sent shivers down your spine.

The pair of boots crunched towards you, rounding the edge of your chair until you could look up into the face of the villain from before, the man with the horrible scar. It twisted and warped the skin over half of his face, the flesh melted into itself like he’d been held down against a hot stove. An equally horrible grin cut into the harsh line of his mouth.

“Who are you? Where am I? Why am I here?” you demanded. Your voice came out high and quavery, and you could have cringed at how absolutely terrified you sounded.

He raised an eyebrow like you’d just asked the dumbest series of questions he’d ever heard.

“Oh, I think you know why you’re here,” he sneered. His eyes were dark, almost black in the gloom of the warehouse.

A twisting wave of frustration washed over you. No you didn’t know why you were here. You’d been wiping down a fucking counter one minute and the next you’d woken up in some creepy warehouse with no idea of where in the world you might be.

“I don’t,” you said, frustrated. “Please, I don’t have any money. Whatever you want, I can’t get it to you.”

He stared down at you impassively, the radio static crackling in the background. “I don’t want money, you fucking brat. I want revenge.”

You stared at him. Revenge? You’d never even met this guy before, what the hell could you have possibly done to him that he would need revenge on you? The extent of your crimes against anyone, as far as you knew, only included arguing with people on twitter and once--drunk at a bar--peeing in the men’s room before you realized it wasn’t the ladies’ toilet. Gender was a social construct, anyway. It wasn’t that bad.

Your blank look seemed to irritate him, and he placed a booted foot on yours, deliberately grinding his heel down on your toes until you felt your bones creak. You bit down on a yelp.

“Don’t play stupid, you little shit. I know he’ll come for you.”

What? Who would come for you?

The radio signal seemed to catch again, and the newscaster’s stately voice reported from over your shoulder. “--Hero Commission received a message from the villain that they are holding Todoroki’s secret lover hostage. We’ve received comment from a PR representative at the Todoroki agency--”

Your stomach dropped in horror as you considered the smug expression that twisted the villain’s face. Oh no.

No.

No way.

Did he think you….?

Dread coiled into a hard pit in your gut. Oh, you were so absolutely fucked. Shouto Todoroki had never so much as heard of you, nevermind invited you into his bed. As far as you could tell, he had no current lover, as his apartment had only ever evidenced the single occupant.

He’d been linked in the media to a couple models and an actress, but it seemed unclear if that was any more than speculation. In the year you’d worked at the cleaning service, there’d never been anything like an extra toothbrush or an abandoned pair of underwear to give away another person’s presence, though you had sometimes seen evidence of his friends; things like a forgotten All Might sweatshirt that clearly belonged to notorious fan boy and current number one hero Deku, or a neatly prepared container of soup you’d seen in the fridge once with a note that read eat this you fucking fuck and if you get me sick I’ll kill you that you strongly suspected came from the foul-mouthed hero Ground Zero.

So unless those were to be taken as signs of a blossoming romance, there was nothing that strongly hinted at the presence of a lover.

You were frankly flabbergasted that this villain had assumed, just because you’d been alone in his apartment at the time, that you of all people could have been that to him.

And you were even more concerned now, as there was absolutely no way Shouto Todoroki was going to come haring in to save someone who did not exist.

What was the villain going to do when he realized that no one was coming for you? Or worse, when he realized you were no one to anyone, and your presence would hardly be missed? Was it better to try and clear up the misunderstanding now? What would he do when the dots connected?

The villain smirked, mistaking your horror. “That’s right, brat. He was supposed to be there, but you'll do just as well. He’ll come for you, and when he does, I’m going to do to him exactly what he did to me.” He gestured to the scarred side of his face and you winced.

So it hadn’t been a hot stove.

“I think you have it wrong,” you said a little desperately. “I’m not--I don’t even know Todoroki. I’m a cleaning lady.”

He rolled his eyes. “Nice try. I’ll just let you walk free then, shall I?”

Your fingers dug into the rope behind your back. “Um, ideally, yes.”

He bit out a harsh laugh, that horrible smile cutting into his features again, and knelt down in front of you. He was close, too close, and you could smell something sour on his breath.

“I’ve just had a better idea,” he said, leaning into you. “What if I do to his precious lover what he did to me? Your face can be the last thing I let him see before I kill him.”

Your stomach turned and you forced yourself as far back in your chair as you could get. Oh fuck. “No, please, you have to listen!” Your voice was growing higher as you spoke. “I don’t know him. I’m his fucking cleaning service. You can call them and ask--just ask!”

The villain didn’t listen, digging around in the inner pocket of his jacket for something. “No skin off my nose if you are or aren’t. But I think we both know you aren’t.”

You could feel your heart climb into your throat as he pulled out a lighter and a small, metal can that smelled sharply of gasoline. Lighter fluid? You started struggling wildly in your bonds, feet straining against the floor to push your chair back from him.

He let out another laugh, uncapping the fluid. The acrid smell sharpened, burning in your nose. The radio let out another burst of static in the background, a high whine that set your teeth even more on edge.

“I’ll let you pick the side, brat,” the villain said, smiling.

“I pick neither,” you managed around the lump in your throat. Your eyes were locked on the can of lighter fluid, like you could will it away from you with the sheer force of your panic alone.

The villain scowled. “Be difficult then,” he said, and moved to pour it over you anyway. You felt the first splash of fluid on your cheek and closed your eyes. That acrid smell got stronger, and the villain let out an excited breath.

Then the wall blew out.

A wall of freezing air rushed over you and the can of fluid dropped from the villain’s grasp, spilling sloppily down your clothes, before clattering to the floor. The villain swore and whirled, grabbing a fistful of your hair and wrenching your head back. You peeked open an eye.

A huge slab of ice had blown open the side of the building, and the silhouette of a man was outlined against the evening sky. It was hard to make out his features in the dim light, but that mop of red and white hair was so distinctive, you would know it anywhere.

A shivery frisson of relief went down your spine at the sight of a familiar figure, but confusion mounted in the back of your brain.

What the hell was Shouto Todoroki doing here?

There was a flinty noise and then a small flame flickered in the corner of your eye. You stiffened--the lighter was still in the villain’s hand, and you were entirely covered in lighter fluid.

“So nice to see you again, Todoroki. Any last words to your little girlfriend?” the villain spat. His gaze was fixed unblinkingly on Todoroki.

You strained against your bonds and his tight grip on your hair. “I’m not his girlfriend! Todoroki, tell him.”

You could barely see his features but you thought you caught Todoroki’s eyes darting over you curiously, like he was trying to figure out who in the world you were and why anyone would mistake you for a love interest of his. Your eyes met briefly. Then the fingers on his right hand pressed forward just the slightest bit, and a huge cascade of ice like an avalanche was rushing you. You closed your eyes, ready to be impaled.

There was a grunt and the villain’s hand was ripped out of your hair, taking a fistful with it. A sudden, suffocating silence pressed down on you, and an icy burn stung at your lungs when you inhaled.

You blinked your eyes open, only to come face to face with a wall of ice mere inches from your nose. Cold pressed in on you everywhere, biting at you through your clothes--it seemed Todoroki had formed some kind of protective shell over you as he forced the villain off of you. You exhaled and sank back in the chair with shaky relief.

More crackling echoed from outside your cocoon, muffled through the thick slabs of ice, and a bright jet of orange light lit up the crystals around you. You tracked the sound and the movements nervously. There was a moment when a body slammed into the ice behind you, cracking it a little, and you tensed, but then whichever of them it was rolled off and was gone within moments.

Over the course of a few minutes, the sounds of their battle and the flickers of light started to fade off into the distance, and you wondered if Todoroki was trying to lead the villain away, or if the villain was leading him somewhere he had planned for. Your fingers found the bindings at your wrists again, and you scrabbled desperately at them with your nails.

If the villain came back for you, you needed to be disconnected from this chair and out of the ice prison ASAP.

You had just managed to work your chair backwards and get a good angle against the rough ice, starting to work up a friction between your bonds and the ice when muted footsteps approached and a hole began to melt in the side of the ice wall. Your eyes snapped to attention and you leaned as far away as you could get.

It was Todoroki who stepped through, however, lifting an arm to melt away more of the ice over you. He looked a little mussed from combat but otherwise unharmed, and in good shape to get you out of here. You breathed a heavy sigh of relief, muttering, “Oh, thank god.”

He fixed you with a weird look, leaning over you when he’d melted enough of the ice to get to your bonds. A hot hand at your wrists burned ropes off of you easily enough, Todoroki careful not to singe you with his flames.

An uncomfortable silence settled between the two of you as you pulled your arms back to yourself, shaking them out.

“Uh, thank you,” you said, watching nervously as those distinctive two-toned eyes flicked over you.

He helped pull you to your feet, and gestured you towards the hole he had blown in the side of the warehouse.

“This way--there’s an ambulance to check you over,” he said evenly. His voice was low and smooth, even deeper in person than you’d heard it on TV. His whole presence seemed a lot sharper, larger even, than was communicated via the media.

You followed his broad back out into the evening air, noting that you were on a somewhat crowded street, likely somewhere still within city limits. Several rows of similar warehouses lined the streets, and an ambulance and several police vehicles had pulled up onto the sidewalk closest to you.

An EMT ran over to you, helping you over to the ambulance and immediately setting to the task of checking you over. She asked you a series of questions including your name, what year it was, the prime minister’s name, and a slew of probing queries about your injuries. She concluded a concussion seemed unlikely, but produced an ice packet for your head where the villain had struck you, and cleaned your wrists where the rope had cut into them, smoothing on aloe and wrapping them up in gauzy bandages.

While she worked, you watched Todoroki as he spoke in quiet tones off to the side with a group of policemen. Eventually, however, the conversation seemed to die out, and he came padding back over to stand in front of you with his arms crossed over his chest. You tried not to focus on the swell of his biceps through the fabric of his hero costume.

“What you did was very stupid,” he said, his eyes narrowing.

That tore your attention away from his arms, and you paused, staring up at him in confusion. Did all civilians get a lecture like this fresh off of being kidnapped?

“Excuse me?” was all that escaped you.

That grey and blue gaze raked over you. “You’re lucky I was able to rescue you. You risked your own life and invaded my privacy while you were at it.”

A mixture of confusion, exhaustion, and anger welled up inside of you. You had just been fucking kidnapped and he was lecturing you like a toddler who’d gotten into a box of crayons while her parents’ backs were turned.

“You think I fucking wanted to be kidnapped?” you demanded, sliding off of the back of the ambulance to take an angry step towards him. “You think I wanted any of this to happen?”

He held his ground, hardly threatened by someone who barely brushed his chin and had needed his rescuing only minutes before. You gritted your teeth.

“You are not welcome in my apartment,” he said firmly, something like suppressed anger flickering in his own gaze.

Your temper flared even hotter than his flames. You clenched your fist, the words bubbling up before you could even think to stop them. “Great. Clean it yourself then, you huge fucking asshole, if you don’t want someone else there.”

His eyes widened the slightest bit, but you weren’t done.

“I get kidnapped because some crazy douche wanted to settle a score with you, and you dare yell at me for doing my job? Because what, it’s shameful for you to be accused of having a secret lover and now you have to do PR? Grow the fuck up. That’s your fucking job.”

You turned on your heel, setting a beeline for the police officers where they had turned to watch you, mouths gaping.

“Do I have to give a statement right now or can I come into the station in the morning?” you demanded of the nearest officer.

“We recommend you give your statement as soon as possible, but you can delay until tomorrow if you’re, uh, in emotional distress,” the officer said, staring at you.

“Oh I am,” you intoned loudly. “But not as much emotional distress, apparently, as someone who's been mildly inconvenienced by a media narrative. You'd better check on him, he's the real fucking victim here. And I’ll see you in the morning instead.”

You stalked off towards the street, hardly caring where you were headed or how you would get home from here. You would figure it out and find your way, and it was better than standing around and being berated by some asshole hero who thought himself so wildly inconvenienced by saving you.

“And Todoroki, you can go fuck yourself,” you threw over your shoulder as you disappeared into the dusky maze of city streets.

And he could.

You hoped that was the last you’d ever see or hear of Shouto Todoroki.

[moonlit-han]

part i: he came in through the bathroom window

genre: college au, neighbor au, fluff, humor pairing: femme reader x 3racha in poly relationship part word count: 5k part warnings: suggestive, alcohol consumption, explicit language request: yes and no~ a/n: this is in no way represents stray kids or bang chan, seo changbin, and han jisung, as it is a work of fiction. and to my readers: this is the first part in a series that’s rather dear to my heart, and while i’m not sure how long it’ll end up being at the moment, i hope you enjoy it!

✧ masterlist & tag list info in bio ✧

↠↞

Just before your final year of college, you moved into a new apartment—well, your part of a shared house that had been made into several apartments. There was another one on the ground floor with yours, and then two upstairs. It was clean, with lovely light and a surprisingly nice kitchen. Your bedroom was nicely proportioned, too, with amazing closet space. The bathroom adjoined your neighbor’s, and there was even a little door that connected the two, for some reason. You quickly found that you had to leave the window open, even just a crack, to air out the room—an old house meant no ventilation fan. Occasionally, the proximity to your neighbor made it a little weird when you ended up taking a shower at the same time because he sang in the shower. On more than one occasion, you had to stop yourself from joining in.

You later found out that said neighbor was a music student at the same university as you, and you were sure you would have never met him if he hadn’t been your neighbor. He didn’t hang out with the same people as you, didn’t have any of the same classes, seemed to spend all his time shut up in his apartment occasionally strumming on a guitar, and was just generally an introvert. He did seem to have two best friends whose laughter you heard through the walls on a regular basis.

On the second day you lived there, a Friday, he knocked on your door, a mango in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. 

“Hi, I’m Jisung,” he chirped. “I live next door. I brought you a house-warming gift—sorry it isn’t fancier. Hope you like it!” Jisung thrust the wine and mango into your surprised hands and then darted away to the other side of the house before you could even invite him in. You just stood there for a solid two minutes, staring into nothing with the mango and bottle of wine.

Wow, he was hot. Shit.

For the rest of the day, you went about your business, unpacking and arranging your things. The bottle of wine drew your eye but you resisted temptation, knowing that you wouldn’t get anything done if you opened it in the mid-afternoon. Occasionally, you heard music or slightly worrying thumps from Jisung’s apartment. But, you’d only just moved in and didn’t know him well enough to feel comfortable going to check on him. Surely he was fine, right?

Around 6 pm, you gave in and got the bottle of wine. Rummaging in one of the boxes still lounging on the kitchen floor, you found a wine glass, and miraculously, the bottle opener, too. As you poured out the liquid, it smelled fruity and a little sweeter than you normally liked wine, but it was a gift and you’d been working all day. You couldn’t pass up free alcohol. And perhaps because you’d been moving in all day, the wine tasted delicious and you soon poured yourself another glass. Thinking there had to be a reason for Jisung including a mango, of all things, with the wine, you sliced it and ate a few pieces in between sips of wine. The combination was perfect, and you wondered how Jisung had discovered such a lovely pairing.

As you settled in for evening, your thoughts strayed to your new neighbor. He seemed nice enough, albeit a bit shy, and was thoughtful enough to bring a housewarming present. That had to count for something. But what you couldn’t get out of your head was just him—the way his eyes sparkled with mischief, the way his hair swooped around his face. And with the hoodie that practically swallowed him whole, Jisung was absolutely the cutest, most handsome guy you’d ever seen. 

Pausing the show you were watching on your computer, you had to take a few deep breaths to calm your racing heart. You’d only just met the man, and you hadn’t even said anything! How could you be falling for him already? Heck! Giving up completely, you decided to go to bed . . . on the sofa you were currently occupying because you hadn’t set up your bed yet.

 ↠↞

Three months later, you were successfully moved in and your classes were in full-swing. You’d seen Jisung a few times as you came and went from your apartment, but you hadn’t really talked much. You were okay with that, though—classes were busy and it wasn’t as if there was some mystical Book of Rules for New Neighbors that you had to read and follow directions from. When you did talk, though, he was perfectly nice, making sure to ask how you were doing and actually listening to what you had to say—a rare quality, you’d found. He always gave you a toothy grin that seemed to light up his whole body, too.

Your door knocker barely ever got used, which was why when very loud knocking echoed through your apartment on Saturday, you were sure the apocalypse was coming. Cautiously, thinking of all the bad things that could happen if the person on the other side of the door meant you harm, you opened your front door. Revealed on the threshold was Jisung, along with two other young men who could only be the best friends you heard so often. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Jisung said, moving slightly to the side so you could see his companions. “So, I figured I’d introduce you to my friends, since they’re around a lot. Also, I usually ask one or both of them watch the apartment when I’m gone sometimes.”

“Oh. Okay,” was all you could manage while being stared at by three highly attractive young men.

“Can we . . . come in?” Jisung asked hesitantly.

“Um, yeah sure,” you said, blinking, and moved out of the way.

So that was how you ended up with Jisung and his two best friends lounging on the couch in your apartment. They seemed perfectly at home, not noticing or simply not caring about the mess of books and mugs on your coffee table, nor the—

Oh shit, the laundry. 

Your laundry—underpants, bras, and all—was hanging on a drying rack in the corner of your living room under the window. You scurried over to the rack and quickly threw a towel, which had been catching any rain that happened to fall on your windowsill, over the clothes. Turning round, you found the guys looking at you. You smiled nervously, knowing you were blushing.

Jisung put his head in his hands. You felt like doing the same thing just then.

“So, let me guess,” said the one sitting on Jisung’s left, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re name’s Reina, right? Since you’re lovely as a queen?”

You burst out laughing. You couldn’t believe someone had actually just used such a ridiculous pick-up line on you. “Sorry to disappoint,” you said, still giggling. “My name’s Y/N.”

“Oh well,” Chan said in mock-sadness, “that’s a pretty name, too. Just about as pretty as you!”

“Chan, fucking hell, man,” Jisung groaned. “Can you not flirt with every single person I introduce you to?”

“Sorry, ’Sung.” He still winked at you, though.

“Yeah. Okay.” Jisung addressed you again. “So this,” he pointed at the one he’d called ‘Chan,’ “is Chan. And the other dork who insists on being friends with me is Changbin. They’re also studying music composition and production.”

“Nice to meet you. And honestly,” you added conspiratorially, “I don’t understand why you’d want to be around Jisung either. Did you know he sings in the shower?”

Now it was Chan and Changbin’s turn to burst out laughing, falling onto the sofa’s arms.

“Jisung, your neighbor’s cool!” Changbin chuckled once he got himself under control. “Why didn’t you introduce us sooner?"

Jisung blushed faintly and grumbled something about not getting the chance. He’s really cute when he blushes, you thought.

“But yeah, we’re the bane of the Music Department’s existence,” Changbin said cheerfully. His voice was slightly husky, but somehow melodious, too.

“Just call us 3racha—because we’re spicy like Sriracha sauce!”

“Chan!” Jisung hissed, shoving his friend but he couldn’t wipe the grin off Chan’s face. Even though he seemed determined to be the cheesiest person ever, you noticed that Chan had extremely cute dimples and kind eyes.

“Wow, you three really are something,” you observed, with only a hint of sarcasm tinging your voice. “Jisung, did you really just come over and insist on coming into my apartment just to introduce your friends? Or, did you need something?” It came out slightly harsher than you’d meant it, but still. He’d practically barged in!

“Um, yeah, pretty much,” Jisung said. “Like I said, I wanted you to at least know who the people coming and going were.”

“And if you ever need anything,” Changbin added, “we’ve got you.”

“Thanks?” you said, not quite sure how they’d be able to help you, since you’d a) only just met them, and b) didn’t have any way to contact them. Although, Changbin did have a quiet confidence about him that was actually quite reassuring.

Jisung sighed, a little fidgety. “Well, I think we’ve trespassed on your time long enough. Let me know if the music’s too loud, okay?”

All four of you stood at the same time, Changbin leading the way to the door. “See you later, Y/N,” he said. “It was lovely to finally meet the person we’ve been hearing so much about.” And then he winked, too. 

What was with these guys and winking? you groused to yourself, trying to keep ahold of your expression. Wait, he didn’t mean… oh fucking hell. Judging by Changbin’s smirk that’s exactly what he’d meant. Why did the walls have to be so thin? Why!

Clearly exercising all the self-control he had, Chan just waved and said “Bye” on the way out. Jisung stopped as he was halfway out your door.

“Sorry this was unexpected, Y/N. I just thought you’d like to get to know them.” Jisung smiled a little sadly, and with that, carefully shut your door after himself.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding just as a small scuffle broke out on your front step. You could almost hear Jisung berating his friends for something. Running a hand through your hair and massaging a temple in the process, you walked back over to sit on the couch. As you continued massaging your head, your eyes were caught by a folded piece of paper on the coffee table. 

Strange, you thought, I don’t remember ever having that pattern of note paper. You picked it up and opened it to see. . . 

Wow, the audacity.

One of the guys had left all three of their numbers for you on that slip of paper. Chan’s even had a heart next to his. They really had some nerve. Then again, you weren’t exactly complaining that three hot guys had just left you their numbers. You never knew when that could come in handy.

↠↞

You were finally snuggled in bed when you heard a crash. You went stiff for a moment, thinking through the various things that could have made that sound in your apartment. The sound seemed to have come from the bathroom. Okay. So, it might have been the mirror or a glass you forgot to move off the edge of the sink. It didn’t have to be the window. Besides, there hadn’t been any other noises after the first.

Reluctantly, you got out of bed and trudged to the bathroom to see what had happened. The shelf you’d put up two days ago lay on the floor surrounded by the shards of a vase you’d placed on said shelf just earlier that evening. 

“Damn it,” you muttered, bending to pick up the shelf and the larger pieces of glass. The weight of the vase must have been too much for the shelf, even though you’d properly attached it to the wall. You methodically cleaned up the glass and reattached the shelf to the wall, not putting anything on it this time in hopes that it wouldn’t fall again.

When you woke up, the shelf was still up and you felt rather smug for putting it back up properly. And when you got home, the shelf was still up, too.

That night, you took a lovely bath—taking care to crack the window to let out the steam—twisted your hair up into a comfortable top-knot, and then laid down on your bed with just yourself for company. You sighed gratefully. It had been a long week and you desperately needed some rest.

But, before you could even settle into the softness of your mattress, you heard the distinctive sound of shattering glass. From inside your apartment.

Fuck, not again.

You slipped out of bed, throwing on your sleep shorts and a loose tank top before padding out of your bedroom. Walking as silently as you could, by putting your the balls of your feet on the ground before your heels, you made your way to the bathroom.

You heard a thump just as you put your hand on the doorknob. If that shelf had fallen again…

It was not the shelf.

None other than Han Jisung was sprawled on your bathroom floor, arms and legs going everywhere, and a look of distinct puzzlement on his face. He shook his head, clearly having banged it on the floor. There were bits of broken glass scattered all around him, and you could see a light dusting of it in his hair.

“What the fuck?” you shrieked, backing up to just outside the door.

Jisung looked up at you and grimaced. “Hi?”

“What the hell are you doing in my bathroom? How are you in my bathroom? You had better have a damn good explanation, Han Jisung.” You couldn’t believe it. You’d thought Jisung was nice, that he was normal. But this? Sneaking into your bathroom at 12:30 am? That was just too much. Only a creep would do that.

Jisung scrambled onto his knees, his back to the wall. Under the window. The window that had just been broken. “I can explain!” he said, hands going up in front of him as his shoulders shrugged, as if expecting a blow. 

“You’d better talk fast,” you said, your voice dangerously low. 

“So, like a dumbass, I forgot my key.” He gulped, then took a breath. “And the guy who lived here before you used to let me come through here when I forgot my key because there’s the connecting door.”

You glanced at said door, which you’d assumed was sealed permanently. Apparently not. You glared at Jisung, who continued.

“Um, I thought I’d just climb in and go through the door. I didn’t mean to break the glass, I promise! My foot just got stuck and so I kind of tripped through the window, if that makes sense? I’m so sorry, Y/N! I thought I’d told you about the whole window thing!” Jisung’s face was screwed up like he might cry, his whole body tense as he made himself as small as he could.

You almost felt sorry for him. Almost. But, you didn’t say anything, waiting for Jisung to provide more of an explanation.

“I— My front windows don’t open and the back and side ones open onto the hill, so there’s nowhere I can use to climb into my own apartment. That’s the only reason this has happened. Really, I’m sorry!”

“So,” you said, hands on your hips, “you’re telling me that you used to climb through this window whenever you forgot your keys.” Jisung nodded. “Did you ever think of making of copy of the key and hiding it under a rock or something?” You were in utter disbelief—how hadn’t he done that? Or given Chan and Changbin keys? You mentally rolled your eyes.

“Shit,” Jisung lamented. “No, I hadn’t thought of that. Like I said, he just let me come in this way and it seemed to work fine. Plus, I don’t think the landlord would like us making copies of the keys, right?”

“Jisung, right now that’s the least of your worries. Please remember that you’re sitting on my bathroom floor. At 12:45 am. I was in bed!” You sighed loudly. Jisung just looked so dejected, you couldn’t stay angry at him for long. “For fucks sake, come here,” you said, reaching out a hand.

He took it, careful not to step on any broken glass from the window, and let you pull him up. His hands were calloused from playing the guitar. And suddenly, Jisung was very close to you. Very close. You could see how long his eyelashes were and the place where he must bite his lip when he’s nervous—you could smell his shampoo. You were also all too aware of just how thin your tank top was, and, it would seem, so was Jisung. You crossed your arms, hoping he’d just think you were cold from the breeze coming in the open window.

“I’ll contact the landlord tomorrow and say I was playing baseball or something and accidentally hit a ball through the window,” he said quickly, stepping back and trying not to look any lower than your face.

“Okay,” you replied, heartbeat faster than you’d care to admit. “Thanks. Now please get out of my bathroom, Jisung. I really do want to go to bed.”

“Yeah, sorry. Really, Y/N. I’m so sorry about this. I’ll— I’ll go get some cardboard and tape to cover the window. I’m sorry!” Jisung seemed like he would start rambling wildly any moment now.

“Just go back to your apartment. I’ll take care of the window, okay?” you tried to be as firm as you could, but Jisung could do sad puppy eyes better than anyone you’d ever met. Dear god, this boy… You gave in. After all, it would be one less thing for you to do. “Fine, Jisung. You can patch the window. Do it quickly, since I want to go to bed.”

With a soft, apologetic smile, Jisung went to the half-door next to your bathroom cabinet. After a moment of him fiddling with the latch, the door swung inward to reveal a small space through which he could crawl. Sighing, Jisung bent down and looked up at you. It did not escape your notice that this was the second time that night that you’d seen Jisung on his knees. 

“Again, I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I’ll be right back to fix the window—just go back to bed.”

Before you could respond, Jisung was crawling forward into the slightly dingy area between your apartments.

↠↞

Jisung did, indeed, take care of the window getting fixed. When you went out to check how it looked, you noticed a conveniently placed log that would make it much easier to, say, climb through the window above. You estimated the height from the ground to the windowsill, and realized that Jisung would have had to jump and then pull himself up just with the strength in his arms in order to get through the window. Yes, the wood shingle siding provided fairly good footholds, but not that much. Damn, you thought appreciatively, he’s strong. You were suddenly glad for the chill in the air to cool your now too-warm face.

You found yourself thinking about Jisung at the most inconvenient times, such as in your lecture classes, and quickly realized that, even though you didn’t know him as well as you’d like, you had a crush on your neighbor. Strangely, you still hadn’t run into each other on campus, but you’d seen Chan and Changbin—in the distance and too far away to talk to. You weren’t sure what to make of the fact that you were into Jisung, but your daydreams had certainly become much more vivid.

That one night was just the first time of many that Han Jisung crawled through your window in the middle of the night. By the sixth time it happened, you decided to talk to Jisung.

You heard the familiar rattle of the window and immediately raced into the bathroom in time to help Jisung down. It was a bit sad to see him on the floor after he accidentally caught a piece of clothing, his backpack, or, one memorable time, an earring, on the window. You held out a hand to him, and he took it, hopping into the room like a lady exiting a carriage.

Holding Jisung’s hand was surprisingly nice. His grip was firm and comforting, as if he were transferring his warmth and affection—

Wait, affection? Huh . . .

You quickly dropped Jisung’s hand, but not after checking that his feet were planted on the ground.

“Jisung, why don’t you come into the living room, okay?” you said, hoping you didn’t sound nervous.

“Oh. Sure!” Jisung was clearly baffled, since you’d never done anything like this. Remembering to shut the window behind himself, he followed you into your apartment. By now, he should have been almost used to seeing you in your pajamas, but he wasn’t. Your tank tops left nothing to the imagination, which was maddening for him.

You pointed Jisung to the couch, and he took a seat, sitting with his back ramrod straight and an expectant look in his eyes. You couldn’t help but smile a little as you curled up on the other end of the couch. Jisung, who took this as encouragement, smiled back. 

“Jisung, I’ve noticed that you’ve come through this way once a week for over a month,” you said. “There’s no way you’ve actually lost your key every single fucking week. So, why have you been coming through into my apartment every week?”

You knew it sounded a little silly, but he had been appearing between 9:30 pm and 1:30 am every Friday. 

“Um, yeah. I may or may not be really bad at keeping my keys on me. Also . . .” Jisung’s voice trailed off so quietly that you couldn’t hear him properly.

“What did you say?” you asked.

“I’m really bad at keeping my keys on me?”

“No, the other part,” you said slowly.

“Damn, I was hoping you wouldn’t hear that,” Jisung grumbled.

“Jisung, what the hell?”

“I wanted to see you,” Jisung said and ran a hand through his hair, embarrassed.

You were stunned. It almost made sense—Jisung was clearly an introvert and seemed to be one of those people who would rather do something outrageous than actually have to talk to someone, much less someone they had a crush on. Neither of you had exactly made many other attempts to see or talk to each other, besides random meetings at the mailbox and leaving your apartments at the same time. Although, he had asked you to bring him soup when he got a cold in September, and you’d happily taken him some. Amazingly, the fact that he’d been all but sneaking into your apartment for the last six weeks didn’t bother you as much as you thought it would. That, you realized upon later reflection, probably had something to do with your crush on him.

“You . . . wanted to see me?” you asked, voice soft. You barely noticed as you uncurled your legs and shifted closer to Jisung. Your hands rested on the upholstery beside you. 

“Yeah.” Jisung had moved closer, too, and now you were sitting side-by-side, facing each other.

“But why?”

“Because,” Jisung said as he reached out and linked his pinky finger with yours. You nearly jumped, the contact seeming like a spark leaping from him to you. “Well, you’re beautiful and kind, and I’d like to get to know you better. And whenever I hear you laugh at whatever silly thing you’re reading or watching, I end up giggling because it’s the best sound I’ve ever heard. Did I mention you’re beautiful?”

You were silent for a minute, staring into space level with Jisung’s elbow; he shifted nervously but you didn’t let go of his hand. Your mind raced nearly as fast as your heartbeat.

“Kiss me, then,” you said, and Jisung’s eyes went wide. “Kiss me, Jisung.”

Jisung hesitantly placed his hand on your waist as you gently cupped his cheek—you could feel his pulse jumping in his neck. His touch was light as a feather and you could feel his hand shaking, even as he drew you closer. He leaned forward at the same time as you did, too, and a dull ache spread through your forehead where it had hit Jisung’s.

You crinkled your nose, leaning your head against the couch, and rubbed your brow.

“Oh my god, Y/N, are you okay?” Jisung said, not even thinking as he ran his hand over what was now a slightly red spot of your forehead.

You giggled and said, “I’m fine. Are you okay, though?”

“I’ve had worse,” Jisung chuckled. He also leaned against the couch, resting his arm on its back as, throwing all caution to the winds, he traced the arch of your cheekbone with a fingertip. “Here,” he said as he leaned toward you again and placed a kiss on your forehead. 

“Aw, you’re too sweet,” you said. Jisung was directly in front of you and you thought, Well, since he’s already this close. So, you leaned in and placed kiss after kiss down his jaw. Still hesitant, Jisung turned his head slightly and brushed his lips against yours. It was only for a second, but you immediately caught his lips with yours, wanting more. As you took the lead, Jisung relaxed into the kiss. His lips were warm as you renewed the kiss over and over. 

You took a breath, smiling and moving your free hand to Jisung’s hair—It really was as soft as you’d always expected. He hummed contentedly, leaning his head back slightly into your hand.

“I’ve been waiting to do that for so long,” Jisung breathed, letting out what might have been a laugh or a sigh. 

“Me, too,” you said, still carding your fingers through his hair.

“And now you’re too far away,” Jisung pouted, and slanted his lips to yours again. Continuing to twine your fingers around his hair, you let your other hand run over Jisung’s arms and chest, then down to wrap around his waist. As you did, Jisung held your hip and pulled you closer so you were nearly sitting in his lap. Not that you minded. You transferred a hand to his shoulder so you wouldn’t topple over. Jisung swiped his tongue along your bottom lip and you gladly opened to him. He tasted of the vanilla chapstick he clearly used, and as you explored each other’s mouths, you slipped your hand under the hem of his shirt. 

The feeling of your hand on his skin nearly made Jisung faint from surprise and he gasped against your lips before kissing you even more enthusiastically. After long moments of wonton kissing, your arm ached a little from resting on the back of the couch and, reluctantly, you broke the kiss. Jisung’s lips were very red and swollen.

“Are you okay?” Jisung asked, worried as he pulled back, just in case. You didn’t let go of him, though.

“Can we change positions a little, Ji?” The nickname had just slipped out and you didn’t realize you’d call him that until you saw his expression.

“Of course.” Jisung paused, not exactly sure what to do next. “Um, what do you want to do?”

“Well,” you pretended to think for a moment, “we could lay down a bit?”

Jisung blushed a little at the implication that hung in those words. “That’s,” he began and cleared his throat. “That’s just fine with me.” 

Taking a deep breath, Jisung slouched back onto the arm of the couch, bringing you with him. You had to do some scooting yourself, and soon found yourself straddling his legs. Jisung reached up and pulled you down to him, running his hands up and down your back as he did so. You rested your forearms on the couch behind Jisung and brought your lips back to his, leaving little kisses around his lips before fully kissing him again. Kissing him was like finding a lucky penny: unexpectedly sweet and such a simple yet exciting thing that you couldn’t help but want to leap with joy. All of a sudden, a giggle burbled up out of you and you hid your face in the crook of Jisung’s neck. 

“What?” Jisung asked.

“Nothing,” you mumbled.

“No, really. What is it?” Jisung was quite curious now.

You lifted your head, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “I kind of want to see you shirtless now,” you admitted and immediately burrowed your head in his shoulder again.

Jisung laughed, really laughed, as he said, “Yeah? Well, I can’t take my shirt off with you on top of me.”

Still quite embarrassed that he’d even considered what you’d said, you sat up and Jisung lifted the hem of his t-shirt. You couldn’t help yourself once his shirt was off: you whistled, murmuring, “Holy shit.” While you’d guessed that Jisung had nice muscles, you weren’t expecting him to have abs for days and killer arms, not to mention perfectly proportioned pecs.

Jisung smiled, a little embarrassed. “Um, like what you see?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” you said, and trailed a finger down his chest. Jisung let out a shaky breath and you felt a hard pressure underneath your bum. Your pajama pants felt quite thin at the moment. Swooping down, you captured his lips again and continued to run your hands over every inch of him you could reach. Jisung moaned every time your hands returned to his chest, and he slipped a hand down to your bum to hold your hips to his. Your kisses were soon so heated they were almost desperate, your hands ranging over each other’s bodies as the warmth inside grew.

“Jisung,” you said, breathing hard. You sat up, realizing, belatedly, that your top was dangerously low now. “If we don’t stop now—”

“I don’t want to stop,” he whispered. “But if you do, we will. It’s okay, I promise.”

Jisung was so gentle and careful, you could almost cry. “Oh, Ji,” you murmured, and kissed him again, lingering at his bottom lip before pulling back. “I don’t want to stop either.”

Jisung craned his neck to kiss just below your ear. “Then we won’t.” As you continued kissing, any hopes of going back to sleep disappeared like mist in early morning sun. But you didn't want to go to bed, not when Jisung’s hands were slipping under your tank top.

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

Hey bestie,

Hope this ask finds you in abundant happiness and health. Coming to the point, I want you to break my and several other hearts so, I'm gonna request from the angst prompts. Prompt no6

Please don't let me loose you. You never had be in the first place😭😭😭

I'm a heartless bitch. Come on throw bricks at me. 😭

Not mine

ANGST PROMPT NO. 6- “ please don’t let me lose you “ “ you never had me “ | TW- HEAVY ANGST | HURT/NO COMFORT |

@thebusyfangirl, you are to blame for the hearts I'm breaking including yours too.

He stares into the fire as if he was watching his heart burning in that blazing fire waiting for it to be completely burnt out or maybe he was watching his cold heart unfreeze then catching fire once and for all as if there never existed a time when his heart wasn’t cold. He sees his lips, he sees his mouth, he sees his eyes, he sees his heart, he sees him but he doesn’t remember the time when he changed so much. He saw him when he’d come back from work, and he’d see him when he’d cover their naked bodies with sheets and never talk about it, he sees him, he watches him too much that his heart starts to ache to think about the old times when there always existed a bubble of laughter, a neat smile, a clean hair cut, a boy who hadn’t forgotten what it was to live, to love, to be loved. Now he was not more than doll left abandoned on the roadside getting dirtier and dirtier, started to getting disliked by everyone but Harry had hope, he had hope that one day he’d see his Draco again, the one he fell in love with but as every day passes, with every call that Draco makes to call Harry to his place for nothing but sex, he feels like he is in a losing battle. He remembers about the time before he had left, the way he’d make Harry breakfast in bed, the way he’d remember how he liked his coffee, the way he used to run around the entire house chased by Harry because he ate his chocolate, he remembers his smile every morning when he’d look in the mirror while brushing and kiss Harry purposely to leave toothpaste over his face, he remembers his giddy smiles, he remembers those manicured colourful nails, he remembers his smile when he’d wait for Harry to open his present, he remembers his reactions when they’d wake up on the Christmas morning and when they would give each other the gifts and Draco would topple Harry grinning, he remembers his face when Harry would give his sweatshirts for him to wear, he remembers when Draco used to smile when he used to grin when he used to be someone who loved Harry, when he used to care.

It had been 5 months since Draco had returned back after having run away to somewhere unknown claiming he needed some time to figure out after a huge fight with his father, Harry had said he’d wait for him but he didn’t want to wait for the guy who returned. When he first came after his getaway and he had come back to Harry’s place, Harry had hugged him, then snapped at him but he remembers vividly the distance he had maintained, how he didn’t seem to care about anything, not even the yelling. He had waited for Draco to give up his facade the first week, crying to him, shouting at him to care just a little bit but 1 month after when he was tired of fighting, he understood that perhaps really didn’t care enough and when he said suddenly one day that he’d moving out so casually Harry had yelled again asking about what about their relationship, Draco had simply shrugged. He only watched as Draco started wasting away in drugs and weeds and intoxication and hooking with different people, he watched him corrupt himself until he knew he couldn’t bear to see him like that and had ended up with Draco in bed, he remembers feeling uplifted thinking that maybe something would change now but the moment Draco had stood up to go smoke in the balcony, leaving Harry alone in the bed, he knew Draco was gone. The man he saw, who smoked, who hooked up with people, who remained unemployed, who disgusted his friends now, he wasn’t the same man Harry had promised himself to wait for.

It was now as he was sitting before the fireplace, the robe hugged tightly to his chest as he thought about the heart of Draco he had once owned. He sat there thinking of everything, tears brimming his eyes for all the lost moments, for himself, for Draco, for everything they had built together now nothing more than just a memory. Their love was stronger than the rocks, Draco had once said but now it was his heart that was as hard as the rock. He thinks about the night he had with Draco before this, fucking in bed with groans of nameless moans, and hymns of saying incoherent words and the way Draco had shifted immediately as soon as he was done, Harry had remained very still gazing at the ceiling above him, he didn’t feel it he realised, he didn’t feel the regret, but he felt the pain, the way his heart started aching for touch that was unrequited, he wanted to turn to Draco like he had done million other times in his life but his heart broke when he saw in the mirror by his left that Draco had turned his back to Harry. He didn’t fall for this man.

He thinks of the time when Draco had told him he loved him and promised that he would Always love harry. He wondered if it held any meaning to him anymore. He likes to think that Draco is still there, the one he fell in love with, he knows somewhere that he's watching him from a distance and maybe wants to break free again but doesn't know how to but that was before tonight. It had been so long since Harry had been searching underneath those eyes for his Draco, the one he wonders if still exist but either Draco had perfected the art of facade or maybe In his time away he had actually changed so much that he refused to be who he was.

Harry stares into the fire, his feet turning cold, but he just stares and stares until he realises he feels something wet over his neck, he brings his hand to his neck and realises he's crying. Pity the tears pouring for something as such, harry thinks but now he can't seem to stop them, he cries a lot of his nights away, he spends most of his time this way before he knows Draco wakes up and he leaves as if he never came there but what more could he do than cry. His friends told him to leave Draco alone and to let him return to his senses whenever he feels like it but it hurts Harry to even think of a possibility where he's healing and Harry's not there , his heart hurts to think of the time when Draco is breaking down and Harry's not there to pick him up, his heart hurts to even think of Draco struggling alone but he was warned that he was hurting himself but he'd look at Draco being distant, smoking in the balcony and he'd think of how the hurt would be worth it if he ever got his Draco back, if.

He doesn't hear the footsteps coming but when Draco comes and sits next to Harry, he's startled.

" I thought you'd had left, like every night " Draco said in a husky voice. It was the smoke, harry just knew.

" I was about to" his voice came out broken and Draco immediately turned to look at Harry properly.

" you were crying " it wasn't a question but a statement, like he knew, like he had known all this time, like there was never a time that he didn't know.

Harry didn't reply.

" why do you do this to yourself if you're hurt ? Why don't you just leave " Draco says.

Harry almost shrugged, opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out.

" stop doing this to yourself " Draco said.

Harry turned to him, he gave him a small smile " I'm waiting for you "

Draco smiled. But Harry frowned knowing Draco didn't smile anymore, he doesn't. And then as a cold air brushed inside the apartment through the open window, Draco disappeared like ashes. A hallucination, Harry figured.

He doesn't remember falling asleep on that couch but he remembers when he woke up in the same couch with a note set on the table.

" get yourself out of the apartment before I get there "

Harry threw the note in the empty fire place, changed into his clothes and left.

He came back again that night, they Hooked up again, Draco turned away again and the night repeated itself.

The night repeated itself for so long that the day the hallucination turned real he couldn't find it believable.

" why are you doing this ? Why?" Harry weeps

Draco shrugged looking far ahead out of the window " I just- don't care anymore, about anything "

" but you do care.. about everything" his voice broke

" No harry, I don't. Don't you see it. I don't even care about you anymore, I keep doing this to you over and over again, every night and you keep coming back and I don't even care " Draco replied so casually.

Harry frowned in disgust, in annoyance, in ignorance, he didn't fall for this man " why did you stop caring ?"

" I don't know" there was a pause in his voice as his eyes just shred down just a little, so his cloud before his eyes has scurried away for a second.

" you used to care " Harry cried.

" I can't help it anymore " Draco replied.

Harry stared and stared at Draco for as long as he can remember until he had heard Draco speaking up again.

" You should go. I don't want to do this with you anymore-"

And instead of snapping at draco, he found himself begging" please, don't let me lose you "

Draco turned to Harry, his jaw clenched " you never had me in the first place, Harry "

Maybe he was right, he didn't have him, he didn't have this Draco who'd say something like this to harry, he didn't have this Draco who didn't care anymore, he didn't had this Draco who didn't love Harry. He never had this Draco but he likes to think that he had him, if only for a little while but he knew he didn't. Harry knew in those moments that he had already left, the Draco he loved was lost, somewhere wher Draco had gone to and left him there, perhaps in a safe place, In a pandora box away from the world because it was too precious. He was gone.

And he had walked letting Harry fetch himself out.

This was not his Draco. This wasn't his Draco.

Angst prompt list has been opened- requests accepted.

300 followers appreciation dialogue Prompt requests open

[sithsecrets]

proposal | din djarin x reader

you and din discuss the customs of his people, and then you take a trip to see the armorer.

---

3.4k words

mentions: piv sex, marriage customs, fem!reader, marriage proposals, reader discusses interest in having kids, nervousness/anxiety about being rejected, weddings

this is part 6 of my valentine’s week special! you can find the other parts here!

---

Only in the dark are you brave enough to ask the question that’s been lingering in your mind for weeks now, speaking the words into the hull’s empty void as Din breathes beside you.

“Do Mandalorians have weddings?”

So maybe that’s not exactly what you meant, but it’s what comes out of your mouth. What you really want to know is if Mandalorians marry in the first place, but something about asking Din this more directly seems entirely too serious. Too heavy. Couple that with the fact that you lie here naked and drunk on sex and wine, and you find yourself glad that you asked him the way you did.

“No,” Din says, palm warm on your back, “at least not the way people most people do.”

You let his words sink in for a moment, pondering what sort of marriage customs Mandalorians could have. Where you’re from, weddings are huge affairs, the celebration of two families joining together made complete with eating and drinking and music. It is a day devoted to dressing impractically and marveling at all the future holds, a day where two people become a unit, their whole lives spread out before them. You know that every culture isn’t like yours, obviously, but you wonder what else could be done for such an occasion. Every wedding you’ve ever been to, regardless of setting or context, has always involved merrymaking and splendor, or as much as could be afforded. Even this evening, all the way out in the Tatooine desert, Cobb Vanth and his husband and all their friends in Mos Pelgo managed to scrape together quite the little party. There was wine and food, and everyone danced until they couldn’t go anymore. If marriage isn’t a celebration to Mandalorians, then what else could it be?

“Do they— Do you just say you’re married? Is there an officiant?”

Din lets out a sigh, but it’s by no means an exasperated one. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was trying to steady himself, his bare arm flexing around your waist.

“No,” he answers, “there’s no officiant. When two Mandalorians get married, they exchange vows in mando’a, and then they look at each other.”

“They take off—”

“Their helmets,” Din finishes for you, “yes. They say their vows, and then they see each other’s faces for the first time. That’s why it’s done in private— no guests, no one to oversee things.”

“And then after you see each other, you’re married?”

Din nods, affirmative, and the weight of all he’s said presses down on your mind. Two Mandalorians, that was his exact wording, but is that really what he meant? Is there no other option? There has to be another option…

“Can Mandalorians marry other people? Or is that not allowed?”

It takes everything you have to ask this question, anxiety churning in your stomach until… until you realize that Din’s already sleeping, the rise and fall of his chest even and measured against your cheek. The feeling that comes over you is equal parts relief and horror, an odd reaction to the fact that he didn’t hear you, but you decide agonizing over all of this isn’t important right now, not tonight. You’re half-drunk, exhausted, and emotional aroused— hardly the right state to be in when you’re talking about something so serious as this. And so you simply pull the blankets up around you and Din, trying in vain to fall asleep like he did.

---

Thirty-six hours later, the Crest is back in hyperspace, you, Din, and the baby off to chase down a quarry on some distance planet. It’s going to be a long ride, a fact that you’re dreading. Since you watched the Marshal and his husband say their vows and exchange a kiss as husbands, your head’s been filled with images of marriage and weddings and wifehood. The conversation you had with Din the other night plays in your mind on loop, the one unanswered question bothering you to the point of distraction.

Can Mandalorians marry other people?

(Can you marry me?)

You try to keep busy, cleaning and doing laundry, cooking an elaborate dinner, but nothing helps. Even as you play with the baby and tuck him in the for the night, you’re bombarded by anxiety and feelings of unresolved tension. The most frustrating part of it all is that it’s completely one-sided— Din wouldn’t know what the hell you’re talking about, even if you told him, because he wasn’t fucking awake. Din Djarin, a man who never rests, fell asleep in the middle of talking to you about his people and their customs. You truly never thought you’d see the day, and now that you have, you pray it never happens again. You’re not sure you can take this, this limbo. You have to know.

With the Child asleep, you’re officially out of things to occupy your time. You’ve scrubbed every floor and every surface of the Crest, cleaned out the pantry and changed the beds, washed and folded all the clothes. And so you decide it’s time to fuck up your life, climbing up to the cockpit to talk to Din like you have a hundred times before with a rock in your stomach. Never in your life have you professed to be brave, and you nearly chicken out the minute your eyes land on the glinting beskar, on the curve of his helmet. In that moment, you realize that this is it, this really could be the end of it all…

And yet somehow, you’re not afraid anymore.

“Hey,” Din says softly, reaching out to you. The visor remains fixed on the holograms in front of him even as you come over, but his arm is tight around your waist, grounding. “Kid’s asleep?”

“Yeah.” You pause, enjoying the weight of his embrace. “Din?”

He hums in acknowledgement, still focused whatever he’s studying on the holo display. You’re undeterred.

“Do you— Do you remember what we were talking about the other night? After Cobb’s wedding?”

Din’s still half distracted, fixed on an image of two alien beings in what appears to be a hangar bay. “Yeah, Mandalorian weddings. You wanted to know what it’s like when we marry.”

You study him for a moment, gather up all your courage. “Mmhm. And you said that that was the custom for two Mandalorians— vows and then you look. But— But—”

“But what?” Din cuts, still not looking at you.

“Does it… Does it have to be two Mandalorians, or can it be a Mandalorian and someone else?”

Your question hangs in the air for one long, silent moment, and then it would seem that you finally have Din’s full attention.

He turns to you slowly, letting the holograms flicker into nothingness as the pilot’s chair creaks in your direction. You think you might actually pass out right there, petrified to face him in the wake of this question. The both of you are long past all the uncertainty of the early days, far away from the time when you didn’t know what you meant to one another. But this is no insignificant matter, and Din’s not a stupid man. You aren’t asking, but you certainly aren’t not asking either.

For a second there, you think he’s going to prod for more information, make you say what you mean out loud. Din’s good at that, at making you talk when you don’t want to, but he usually resolves it for more playful situations, times when what he’s making you say outright doesn’t matter as much. But mercifully, he skips the games, reaching for you with one gloved hand.

“Come here, mesh’la,” Din murmurs, maneuvering you into his lap like he has a hundreds of times before. It’s all muscle memory at this point, and you settle on the width of his thighs without even thinking about it. Still, though he’s being gentle, though you’re filled with hope, you wait to hear news that will break you.

… It never comes.

---

If someone asked you to make a list of all the things you thought you’d do in your lifetime, visiting a Mandalorian covert wouldn’t even make the top fifty. But here you are on some distant planet in the Outer Rim, snaking through a tunnel system on your way to meet with someone that Din only refers to as “the Armorer.” Apparently, she used to lead his old covert on Nevarro, and now it would seem that another group of Mandalorians has banded together under her leadership. You don’t know what to think of this person, but Din seems to have great respect for her, and that only makes you more nervous.

When Din asked you to sit on his lap, you were sure that he was about to tell you that you and he could never be more than what you already are. In that moment, you had to ask yourself some hard questions. Were you comfortable with that? Could you live with never seeing Din’s face? Was marriage something you needed, or was it something you wanted? But it turned out that all this introspection was pointless, because Din told you flat out that he can marry whoever he wants… So long as he has the Armorer’s permission.

“It’s just because you’re not a Mandalorian,” he told you, trying to soothe you fears as you became more and more worked up about the whole thing. “It’s purely a formality.”

You were unconvinced. “If it’s just a formality, then why do we have to do it? What if she says no?”

“Then we’ll cross that bridge if we have to, but I doubt she’ll turn us down.”

All of this was said under the cover of darkness, of course, you and Din naked and sprawled out under the blankets. He’d made love to you for hours after you asked him if the two of you could get married, saying over and over again that he loved you and that he couldn’t believe you wanted to be his wife. The attention made you breathless, but in the aftermath of it all, you still asked Din three separate times if he was serious, if he really wanted to have you. You couldn’t bear it if he called the whole thing off at the last minute, and you certainly didn’t want him to agree to something so serious just because you’d expressed interest in the idea. But Din was insistent, promising time and time again that he’d made up his mind. You should have known better than to question the conviction of a Mandalorian, especially one as devout and loyal as Din— they don’t make their choices lightly. All of it felt so fast, but also so right, and you’d fallen asleep that night awash in the glow of your engagement. Now that it’s time to face the Armorer, though, you’re anxious and petrified.

All eyes are on you as you and Din make your way down a cavernous, dimly lit corridor, the blackness of many visors tracking your every movement. Even two children stop to stare at your, their helmeted heads shining dully as you pass.

The sound of metal on metal fills the air as you approach what appears to be a chamber within the tunnel system, the noise growing louder and louder with every step you take. Your first impulse is to turn tail and run, but you force yourself to remain steady, counting your steps and standing tall even as a feeling of all-consuming anxiety overwhelms you.

“Hey,” Din says, reaching for your hand just before the two of you enter the room. “Okay?”

You squeeze his palm, lying through your teeth. “Yeah, I’m good.”

And then you’re walking into the chamber side by side, ready to face the woman that will determine the path of your lives.

The Armor is a tall, broad person, helmeted and sheathed in armor like all the other Mandalorians you’ve seen. She pauses her work the minute you and Din walk into the room, a heavy tool made of beskar held aloft in one hand. To be watched by her is intimidating to say the least, her air of importance only heightened by the fact that she stands three feet off the ground on a dais. Din sits down before her without saying a word, and you follow his lead, unsure of what to do with your hands or face.

“Brother,” she declares, dropping her gaze back to her workspace, “it is good to see you. If you have come for repairs, I am afraid you’ll have to wait some time. We have just combined forces with another covert, and I have had much to do as a result.”

The Armorer glances up.

“Where is the Child?”

It takes you three whole seconds to realize that she’s speaking to you instead of Din, and you rush to answer her. “He’s with friends,” you explain, “people we trust on Nevarro.”

“’We,’” the Armorer intones, picking apart your words. You can’t decide what she means by this.

Two clangs of beskar on beskar, and Din finally speaks.

“I haven’t come for repairs,” he says, voice even and strong, “I’ve come to speak to you about an important matter.”

The Armorer does not so much as look up. “I assume it has something to do with the girl, yes?”

“Yes,” Din affirms. “I want her to be my wife, and I seek your permission for a vow exchange.”

It is a long time before the Armorer speaks again, her demeanor never changing once as she continues to work on the piece before her. She pounds away at the metal, laying it over the jets of flame before her, setting her tools aside carefully.

“You want to marry this Mandalorian?”

Her words are like ice water down your back, but you force yourself to be brave.

“Yes,” you say, feigning confidence. It’s hard to maintain eye contact, though you do it anyway, hellbent on showing respect to this woman who has survived no less than two massacres.

“Come here, child. Let me look at you.”

Standing on shaky legs, you walk closer and closer to the dais, stepping up when prompted by your observer. You refuse to come too close to her workstation, afraid of causing offense. Beskar is a precious thing, and you’d never want to taint her tools and materials with the oil if your unworthy, unindoctrinated hands.

“How long have you known my brother?”

The Armorer begins to pace long, measured circles around you, studying your body, letting her gaze linger on your face.

“Over a year.”

“Do you travel with him much?”

“We live together on the Crest,” you explain. “We’re always together, unless he goes out to look for a quarry.”

The Armorer nods, seemingly pleased.

“And what do you think of the Child? Do you care for him?”

You picture the baby’s face, his little green hands, his big black eyes, and your heart is filled with affection for him. “I don’t know what he is, but I don’t care, either. I love him like he came from my own body. Din’s done me a favor by letting me know the baby at all.”

And for the first since you came to stand before the Armorer do you turn to look at Din. He doesn’t say anything to you in that moment, but you see it, the way his posture softens just the slightest bit. The Armorer must notice it too because she turns her gaze on him as well.

“She is the Child’s mother?”

“Yes,” Din says at once. If the two of you were alone, if you still weren’t so afraid of being rejected, you think you might cry at that.

The Armorer nods once again, statuesque as she comes to a stand in front of you.

“If you were to bear my brother children, would you raise warriors? Or would you have them shy away from such a life?”

This is an important question, you know, one that will make or break the Armorers decision. You take your time to consider you answer, choosing the right words, stringing them together with care.

“My children will be free to do as they please,” you begin, looking the Armorer dead in her visor. “I know that you don’t just become a Mandalorian. It’s something you choose for yourself. You have to swear the Creed and take on the burden of never showing your face— that’s not something I could force on my babies, even if I wanted to. When the time comes, I’ll support whatever path they choose in life, so long as it makes them happy. I love their father as he is now, and I’ll love my children if they choose to follow in his footsteps.”

The room fall silent as you finish your little speech, Din and the Armorer not speaking a word through their modulators as they take in your words. The Armorer herself is especially still, staring you down, testing your will. You think she’s waiting for a “but,” an “if” or an “except” that will ruin everything you’ve just told her. But you don’t flinch, locked in her gaze and firm in your choices.

“You have chosen well, brother. This woman will be an excellent wife. We welcome her openly.”

And though Din told you that she would say yes, hearing the words come out of the Armorer’s own mouth has you awash in all-consuming relief. You think you should say something, perhaps “thank you” or “I welcome you as well,” but you don’t get the chance. The Armorer goes back to her work the minute her pronouncement is made, picking up her tools and going back to her craft like she never stopped in the first place.

“Go now,” she says, but it’s not a harsh command. “I have much to do.”

Her helmet peeks up, trained on Din.

“If she falls pregnant, I want you to return so that we may celebrate the child. It has been too long since we have known the joy of a new life.”

All Din does is nod, offering you his arm when you step off the dais in a daze. The two of you leave together in silence, weaving your way back through the tunnels that brought you here as everyone watches you closely. Somehow, though, their stares feel less judgmental this time, less suspicious. It might be a figment of your imagination, a byproduct of your relief, but it’s like they know. The whole thing is sort of eerie, and you’re glad when you and Din come back out into the daylight.

---

It’s just the two of you alone on the ship, the Child safe on Nevarro with Greef and Cara. You and Din decide to take advantage of this, cutting the lights and crawling in bed the minute the Crest kicks into hyperspace.

You let Din have you on your stomach this time, breathless as he fucks you into the mats and blankets. Even as he pushes into you without mercy, Din is so sweet with you, kissing your back, running his hands down your sides. He murmurs your name like a prayer, moaning brokenly when you tell him that you love him.

After all is said and done, the two of you end up snuggled together as you so often are, safe and warm in a nest of blankets on the floor of this ship you love so much. Panting for breath as you try to calm down, it hits you that this might be one of the last times, might be the last time Din fucks you like this, with everything dark and quiet. Something about that excites you, and yet you feel driven to savor the moment, a strange sense of loss settling in your stomach.

Finally, though, you speak: “When should we do it?”

Din snuggles his face against your chest, letting out a contented breath when you wind your fingers in his hair.

“Soon,” he tells you, “but not here.”

That makes you pause. “If we don’t get married here, then—?”

“I know of a better place, cyar’ika,” Din soothes, rubbing your back, and you can’t help but trust him. “A much better place.”

[pink-imagines]

the little things

request: Hi! I saw that your requests were open and I've being thinking about requesting for a while now. It's my first time requesting on any blog so, if it's bad I'm sorry. I would like to ask for a Todoroki x reader, where the reader is overwhelmed and stressed because of their work and he comforts them. I'm kinda living this now and Shoto is my comfort character and I hope it could help other readers also :). You don't have to do it if you don't want and thank you! :D

a/n: i wrote it as fast as i could, i hope you feel better soon anon :)

warnings: stress and crying, otherwise fluff

mha masterlist

hq masterlist

requesting rules

The only thing you wanted to do at the moment was to take a nice peaceful day off. Even if that was possible it wouldn't even be close to peaceful. The stress had been building up over the past month and weighing down heavy on your shoulders. It felt like you had too much to do but at the same time you couldn't seem to finish any of it. Every time you sat down to do it you barely got halfway done, and whenever you did finish anything there were ten other things to worry about at the same time.

You needed a break and you needed it now, but you couldn't get it until you were finished with all of these tasks. At the same time you had chores to do around the apartment, which your partner Shoto couldn't because he was off to work for almost the entire day every day. There was simply too much to do with too little time to finish it.

One evening you were cleaning up the dishes after making a quick and simple dinner for yourself. It was one of your worse days, you hadn't finished anything at all. You were at your breaking point and so the water spilled over the edge and you started crying in the middle of doing the dishes. The door opened and you knew that Shoto was home, so you tried to wipe away the tears and look the least bit normal. "I'm home.", Shoto called for you as he walked into the kitchen. "Welcome home.", you said and accidentally let out a sniffle. "Are you okay?", he walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your figure. "Yeah, it's been a bit of a rough day...", you said and tried to hold back your tears. "Are you sure? You look like you've been crying, Y/N.", Shoto muttered as he rested his head on your shoulder. As soon as he said your name the last drop of water landed in the cup that made it all run down the edges. "It's just-", you dropped the dish you were holding in the sink and brought up your hands to your face to try to hide the fact that you were crying, but your voice made it evident. "Sweetheart...", Shoto let out a light sig and turned you around, "Let's get you seated down on the couch and then you can tell me what's been going on, okay?" He took a towel before you could even answer and dried off your hands. Shoto took you to the couch in the livingroom where you sat down in front of him. "Just stay here for a few and try to calm down a bit, I'll just go wash up and then I'll be with you again.", he explained and went to the bathroom. You wrapped a blanket around you and did your best to stop crying before he came back, which happened rather quickly.

"So can you tell me what's wrong, princess?", he never called you princess unless he was trying to be soft with you. "I just keep getting new things to do all the time... work is so incredibly hectic and it doesn't help that I have to do everything from home now either.", you wiped away the last of your tears, "I feel like I can never take a break and it's becoming a bit too much for me. I know that you probably have it worse but-" "No. This isn't about me, alright?", he stopped you, "You're stressed. you don't need to compare your stress to anyone else's for it to be valid, okay?" You nodded and he took your hands in his. "Let's get you to bed and you should get a good night's rest." "But the dishes-" "I'll take care of the dishes, yeah?", he said softly, "Just get some sleep and I'll see what I can do to help you." Not knowing what he meant by that but being too tired to ask, you simply nodded. Shoto led you to the bedroom and as soon as your head hit the pillow you fell asleep.

The next morning Shoto wasn't next to you, like expected since he goes to work before you do. You walked into the kitchen to get some breakfast before you had to have a zoom meeting. "Good morning.", Shoto said, making you jump back in shock. "Holy- you scared me!", you exclaimed and put your hand over your chest, "You're still here?" "I took two weeks off from work after you went to sleep last night.", he shrugged. "You did what!?", you watched him calmly walk up to you. "Yeah, and I emailed your work to make sure you get a week off next week too.", he said and put his hands on your hips, bringing you closer to him. "Why would you do that? You know if you take a break from work your rankings can lower.", you sighed. "I can't go to work knowing that you're at home completely crumbling.", he smiled softly, "I'm a hero, I save people. Even if it's just one person at a time." "Shoto..." "Let's not get emotional. I made you coffee and I'm about to make some breakfast, go get ready for the day in the meantime.", he said and rushed you back to the bedroom.

The day went smoother than it normally did. Shoto ended up doing most of the house work during the entire day, saving you time to finish some work. The rest of the week was the same, Shoto even started helping out with your work to the best of his abilities. By the end of the week you had nothing left to do.

You laid down next to Shoto on your bed. It was Sunday night and you had finished your last projects. For once you were calm. A warm smile rested on your lips. "Thank you for this week.", you whispered to him. "Don't thank me yet, we have a week of just relaxing now.", he said. "I still can't believe that I'm actually going to have a week off..." "Just wait.", he gave you a kiss on the top of your head.

The next day you woke up to hear someone russtling around in the bedroom. You looked at the clock to see that it was only 6 am. "Shoto... what are you doing up?", you said in a groggy morning voice. "Sorry, did I wake you?", he looked up from the bags he was packing. "Why are you packing suitcases?", you questioned. "I have a surprise for you.", he said and when he saw your suspicious glance he added, "Just trust me." You nodded and went back to bed.

Another hour passed until someone woke you up, this time meaning to do so. You looked over at Shoto who gave you a small smile. "Good morning.", he said quietly. "... good morning... why are we up so early? I want to sleep more...", you whined and pushed your face back in your pillow. "Hey, you can sleep in the car. C'mon you just need to get dressed.", he took off the covers from your body even though you tried to fight against it. The fact that he was a lot stronger than you and that you had just woken up made taking the covers away from you a piece of cake for Shoto. He got you up and led you to the bathroom where you started doing your morning routine. "We can bring some breakfast with us in the car, it's a pretty long ride afterall.", he told you as you dried off your face after just washing it. "Where are we going?", you asked, a lot more awake than before because of the cold water you had splashed on your face. "It's a surprise, didn't I tell you that before?", he grinned before walking out of the bathroom, "I packed your bag for you, so you just need to worry about getting dressed." He didn't usually grin like that, he must have one hell of a big surprise.

When you got out of the bathroom you checked your phone. You saw a message from Shoto saying that he was waiting for you in the car. Since you didn't want to keep him waiting you hurried into the bedroom to get changed. Before you could rummage through your closet for something to wear you saw a neatly folded pile of clothes laying on the bed, which was also neatly made. You smiled, knowing that Shoto had started getting a habit of making the bed just because it made you a bit less stressed by seeing a clean room. You picked up the first clothing item and immediately noticing that it was one of Shoto's hoodies - because it was your favorite one to steal. Under the hoodie layed your favorite sweatpants. Before you started getting emotional over clothing you put it on and went out to the car where Shoto was waiting.

He let you sleep in the car for as long as you needed to while he was driving to the surprise. When you woke up you realized that you were far away from the city already, as you couldn't see any tall skyscrapers anymore. The only buildings around were small countryside family homes. "The houses here are so cute.", you commented sleepily. "Ah, you're awake.", he gave you a thermos, "There's coffee in this if you want any. Oh, and there's breakfast in the backpack in the back." "Thanks.", you smiled.

The drive wasn't long after that. In under two hours you arrived at your destination. You were surrounded by woods and there was a little lake nearby along with the mountains that weren't far from your destination. When you drove up to a building you immediately looked at the sign. "A spa?", you gasped happily and unbuckled your seatbelt. "I think it'd be relaxing, don't you?", he looked around the car park, "And it seems like we're the only ones here too." You turned to Shoto with tears in your eyes. His calm and slightly tired expression changed quickly to a worried one. "Do you not like it?" You threw your arms around him and burried your face into the crook of his neck. "Thank you. I love it. It's wonderful... thank you, thank you, thank you.", you muttered, "What did I do in my past life to deserve this?"

When inside the spa and inn you got settled in your room quite quickly. The two of you ended up taking a nap together because of the tiring car ride. When you woke up it was already evening. You were offered dinner by the staff there and afterwards you made your way to the hot springs.

You sat close together with your legs in the warm water, looking at the stars that had started peaking out as the sun went further and further down. "I love you.", you whispered even though no one was around, "Thank you for helping me last week." "It's what I wanted to do, no need to thank me for it.", he lightly pressed his lips to your temple, "I love you, why wouldn't I want to help you? Let's spend the week well, okay?" "Sounds good to me.", you answered in pure bliss.

--

mha permanent taglist: @theoceanphoenixhasrisen | @raven-r0ses | @darkbeautyswife | @sondering-thoughts | @gowoneandonlyone | @bnhabadass | @queenblackcat | @jayetheanimefreek101 | @witchy-anna | @cutest-celestial-princess | @missymysa | @karebear5118 | @weebartistinc | @crystal-lilac | @brithedemonspawn​ |