#dating doors

[skzdatingdoorsforyou]

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐊𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐨𝐨𝐫

𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭.

𝐀𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫:

𝟏  /  𝟐  /  𝟑

𝟒  /  𝐱  /  𝟓

𝟔  /  𝟕  /  𝟖

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧

[sona-verse01]

NCT DREAM 🚪

Dating Doors

Love quotes

Main event; Main M.list; NCT Dream Games

Request: none!

Requests are OPEN

Love quotes:

Members:

Disclaimer:

Images are from Pinterest, only moodboards are made by me.

For entertainment purpose only.

Don't copy/steal my work.

© @sona-verse01 2024 - All Rights Reserved

[shotmrmiller]

being at a restaurant because of a blind date set up from a friend but the thing is you don't remember his name, or what he looks like- did she even tell you what he looks like?

you quietly sit there, fingers tapping a restless rhythm on the polished mahogany tabletop, your wine glass stained red with tonight's indulgence, stands as empty as your stomach. just when you're about to wave a hand to your waiter, a massive brute of a man crashes into the chair across from you with so much force that you can hear the wood groan under his bulk.

he settles into it, unhurried, as if he wasn't 20 minutes late, his worn leather jacket creaking as he does before leaning forward and resting his forearms on the table, and the silver wear rattles with the impact.

then he looks at you with an unsettling intensity, irises so dark they blend into the pupils and asks if you've been waiting long.

you've a mind to leave him there but you're hungry- starved, really- and he's going to cover the check so you might as well stay and get your free dinner. "doesn't matter now, does it?"

you shoot a quick text to your friend, telling her that he- simon- is here and slip your phone back in your bag, not reading the messages she sends back until the morning after, when your head pounds in rhythm with your sex.

who's simon?

[bluewolfangel01]

Mc: *approaches Beel, looking dejected*

Mc: "Beel... Can I ask you for a favor?"

Beel: "Of course."

Lucifer: "Why is Beel holding Mc like that?"

Beel: *holding Mc super tight, with slight crazed eyes*

Belphie: "Mc asked Beel to hold them tight as if he just found them almost dead."

Lucifer: "I see.... Are they're alright?"

Belphie: "Yeah, especially now because of Beel."

Lucifer: "Very well then, as long as they're fine."

Mc: "thanks Beel."

Mc: *hugs Beel tighter and buries their head more into his chest*

Beel: *buries his face into Mc's hair*

Beel: "anytime Mc"

[petricorah]

🍃 couldn't decide on which of jin's hairstyles i liked best so i combined them [id in alt]

[dramashii]

What if someone sees us? I told you. No one will find it strange.

LOVE NEXT DOOR (2024) | Ep 13

[zoruathemageknight]

about time I made one of these memes

[bluerosefox]

Saying Sorry Will Never Be Enough

Feeling a bit angsty so I had this idea.

Danny is dating one of the Bats/Birds, and everything is going great, amazing even! They know each other secrets (from powers to everything etc), they have a wonderful place to live (even if its in Gotham), Danny is in college on the way to becoming a space engineer (and he does side jobs for unrestful ghosts), he's actually getting sleep again since leaving Amity Park, gets along with their friends and family (those who Danny or his partner still talk to, up to the writer), there is even talk about marriage and perhaps adoption/kids in the future between Danny and the Bat/Bird he's dating!

Everything is setting up for a good life in his future, something Danny didn't think could have after his accident. He was happy finally, and currently packing up his old apartment because he's moving in with his partner in a few days.

So he felt like his core was being pulled out of him when he opens his apartment door one day receiving a knock to find his parents, who had hadn't seen since they kicked him out of the house after coming clean about being Phantom (their words of anger and denial that their son was 'dead' and now a monster, still hurt)

Sure they didn't attack him or proclaim he's dead but still their last words and anger HURT.

Danny didn't give them a chance to open their mouths, both looking nervous and guilty, before he slams the door close and turns invisible, grabs his phone, and fly's out of his apartment to his partner's place in a panic attack.

His partner, isn't happy.

[nirvanai]

there's options i could've chosen for each point but i think this is the funniest trio by merit of akane kurashiki

[solarmorrigan]

Silly idea I talked about ages ago with @azure7539arts, inspired by a similar event my workplace hosts every year. Would minors be allowed to participate in such an event? Probably not! But then again, it was the 80s, who can say for sure. Anyway, it's my birthday and I'll post nonsense if I want to <3

-

“I need you to buy me.”

Eddie looks up from his notebook, effectively jarred from his campaign-plotting fugue state by Steve’s declaration.

Steve is standing at the other end of the dining table, staring at him expectantly.

“Y’know, this is the part where someone usually follows up their completely bonkers demand with an explanation,” Eddie says slowly.

“At the charity auction,” Steve clarifies. “I need you to bid on me, and I need you to win.”

Ah, yes, that weird Rent-an-Athlete charity auction the school runs every year; anyone on any Hawkins High sports team could volunteer to be “auctioned” off in order to raise money for said sports team, to spend a day at the beck and call of the highest bidder (within reason, supposedly). It’s generally restricted to students, but occasionally, prominent alumni are invited to participate – and Steve certainly fits the bill, especially after the story the government spun about his heroism in the face of “serial killer” Henry Creel last spring.

“And what, deny all those pretty girls a chance to get at you?” Eddie asks drily (he’d never turned up at previous auctions himself, but you could hardly avoid gossip in a school their size; it had usually been some cheerleader bidding with daddy’s money who won a date– that is, a day with Steve Harrington).

“It wasn’t always a girl who won,” Steve says, crossing his arms over his chest. “One time it was Mrs. Dalton – you know, the lady on the school board who lives on my block? I just spent the day doing yard work for her. She gave me lemonade. That was pretty cool.”

“Right,” Eddie drawls. “And I’m sure she definitely didn’t sit outside and stare at your ass while you were working.”

“She did not– she– I mean she was on the porch, but, like– she wouldn’t have– she’s, like, seventy, Eddie,” Steve splutters, and it’s all Eddie can do not to laugh.

“Older gals have needs, too, Steve,” Eddie says, giving in to a smirk. “So she was checking you out from the porch, huh?”

Steve goes red. “Shut up, that isn’t the point. I’m trying to ask for your help.”

“Right, right, your absolutely reasonable request for me to buy you at market. Why, again?” Eddie asks.

“The kids are planning to bid on me,” Steve says gravely.

Eddie blinks at him. “Okay?” he says, when no further explanation is forthcoming. “You basically do most of what they ask, anyway, so…?”

“Okay, believe it or not, I actually say no to at least half of what they ask me to do. I would literally never get anything done if I gave in to all their demands.” Steve jabs a finger at Eddie, who holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Anyway, this is all Henderson’s fault.”

“It usually is,” Eddie agrees, nodding sagely.

“He decided that he was going to bid on me and then use that day to finally make me play your nerd game with you–” Eddie snorts, and Steve shoots him a look, “but Wheeler doesn’t want me to play, so he said he was going to bid against Dustin and make me do anything but sit in on a session with you guys.”

“So let Wheeler win.” Eddie shrugs.

“No! I can’t let fuckin’ Mike win, he’ll probably make me do something even more ridiculous!” Steve exclaims. "He’ll make me play chauffeur for him and El on a date, or something, and he’ll probably include the stupid hat.”

“Wait, I thought El broke up with him,” Eddie breaks in.

“No, they’re on again,” Steve says absently, shaking his head. “Which is why Max has been in a bad mood lately.”

Eddie bites back the reflexive need to ask “How can you tell?”, going instead with, “I thought she and Sinclair were on again.”

“No, they are. That’s why no one’s been actively murdered,” Steve says.

“How do you keep track of all of this?” Eddie asks, squinting at Steve.

“It’s a natural skill. And we’re getting off track,” Steve says quickly. “Normally, I wouldn’t be that worried, because Dustin regularly blows his savings on weird science gadgets or whatever, but then Lucas and Will started taking sides.”

“This is getting very involved,” Eddie says.

“So you see why I’m stressed!” Steve insists, smacking a hand to his forehead (personally, Eddie thinks Steve is stressed for many other reasons, but he figures pointing that out just now won’t be appreciated). “Lucas is on Dustin’s side, and that kid does odd jobs like nobody’s goddamn business; he actually has shit saved up. And usually I’d have faith in him being more, like, sensible than to spend it all on this, but the little shit is really fucking competitive.”

“Wonder who he got that from?” Eddie mutters.

“Okay, we do remember that I’m not actually biologically related to any of these idiots, right?” Steve snaps.

“Well now we’re just getting into nature versus nurture–”

“Eddie.”

“Right, sorry, continue.”

“Well, Will took Mike’s side–”

“Shocking.”

“Right? But anyway, I don’t know if the kid has much saved up, but between him and Wheeler, they might be able to win.” Steve sighs, looking far more world-weary than Eddie feels the situation really warrants.

“You know you don’t actually have to do what they ask you to, right?” Eddie points out.

Steve rolls his eyes. “If an auction winner complains to the school that the person they bid on didn’t fulfill their end of the bargain, they can get their money back. It’s a whole…” he waves his hand vaguely, “thing. Happened once when I was a sophomore; Deacon McNab. Lost a good chunk of change for the football team, and they vandalized the shit out of his car.”

“Ah, right. Forgot we went to school with literal psychopaths,” Eddie hums.

“So, I just need you to bid on me and win, so I’m not stuck wasting a Saturday on whatever the hell the kids are going to try to make me do. Or not do. Or– whatever,” Steve says.

“Okay, not that I don’t understand your predicament here, but I think you’re forgetting something kind of important, Steve,” Eddie drawls.

Steve’s brows draw together in question. “What?”

“I’m fucking poor.”

“Oh.” Steve shakes his head. “I didn’t mean– no, I will give you the money, you don’t have to spend a dime, man, I just need you to get me out of this.”

“Why not have Buckley do it?” Eddie asks.

“That was Plan A, but she actually has a date that night, and it’s kind of a big deal, so I don’t want her to cancel,” Steve says. “But I assumed you wouldn’t be busy.”

“Wow, rude,” Eddie scoffs, and Steve sighs.

“Fine, sorry, I just really hoped you wouldn’t be busy.” Steve gives him the most lethal set of puppy dog eyes Eddie has ever seen, as if there had been any chance from the beginning that he’d be able to say no. “Please?”

Just for show, Eddie lets out a long sigh, falling against his chair and letting his head flop over the backrest like he’s deflating.

“Fine.”

“Thank you,” Steve groans, sounding so genuinely relieved that Eddie almost feels bad about how quickly his thoughts dip into the realms of the inappropriate. “Oh my god, I owe you.”

Eddie glances back up at Steve, tongue darting out to wet his lips almost unconsciously. “You know I’m not as easy to appease as a couple of fifteen-year-olds, right?”

Steve’s eyes drop for just a second—maybe down to Eddie’s lips, maybe not; who can say?—before he looks back up, cocking an eyebrow at Eddie. “I think I can handle it.”

Slowly, Eddie grins. “We’ll see.”

[skzdatingdoorsforyou]

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐊𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐨𝐨𝐫

𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 ����𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭.

𝐀𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫:

𝟏  /  𝟐  /  𝟑

𝟒  /  𝐱  /  𝟓

𝟔  /  𝟕  /  𝟖

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧

[sona-verse01]

🤎 ENHYPEN 🤎

🚪DATING DOORS🚪

Disclaimer:

* Check out my k-pop masterlist for more works.

* Don't copy/steal my work.

* Images are from Pinterest. Moodboards are made in Canva.

Requests are OPEN

Aesthetic Rings:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Get a Member:

Tell me which member you get!

Taglist: @automatictalebeliever , @nightstargazer , @txt-skz-enha-stan , @solomonmoa , @bluejayengene

Dividers: @cafekitsune , @arleculus

* Likes & reblogs are appreciated.

* Requests & Suggestions are OPEN.

* Follow for more.

© @sona-verse01 2023 - All Rights Reserved

[toujoursrab]

Prompt: Miss (@into-the-jeggyverse) | Pairing: Jegulus | Word Count: 476

“I miss Regulus.” James whined, turning from his back to lay on his side so he could face Sirius. His best friend was laying next to him, staring up at the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling. It was almost embarrassing, but the constellation Leo glowed particularly bright in comparison to the rest.

“Prongs, dating my brother is one thing, hearing you whine about him all summer is another.”   

James let out a sigh. “I hear you whine about Moony all the time, even when he’s in the same room. I haven’t spoken to Regulus since the train, it’s been three weeks.” They couldn’t even send letters, but James had been writing them anyway with the thought he could give them to Regulus once they were back at Hogwarts. Regulus liked reading, so James had taken to writing him notes and letters that he snuck into his robes or bag during term. He wasn’t allowed to send owls to Grimmauld Place, so they were currently in a no contact situation. “Do you think he misses me?”

“Oh yeah, knowing my brother he’s going mad without you.”  Sirius paused, twisting his lips. “Although descending into madness isn’t strange for a Black, it’s quite common. I blame the inbre—” he was cut off by a loud, quick series of knocks at James’s bedroom window.

James and Sirius shared a curious glance. “Expecting anyone?” The younger asked rhetorically before rolling out of bed, grabbing his wand and waving it to turn on the light as he went to the window. James pulled back the curtains, hazel eyes widening. “Regulus?” he immediately opened the window, helping the sixteen year old climb into his room from the outside. “How did you—this is the second floor…”

“I’m aware, James. I climbed—”

“Most people use the door.” Sirius commented, not letting his own surprise show at the sight of his brother as he sat up on the bed. His eyes darkened, gaze intense as he eyed Regulus’ body for any sight of physical injury, only relaxing when he came to the conclusion there were none.

James was doing the same, his hands roaming the sides of Regulus’ torso, still in disbelief that he was actually here in his room. “Are you alright, Reg? Did something happen?”

“No—nothing happened. I’m—I’m fine. I just… you know.” Regulus grabbed for James’ hands to hold them into his. “I missed you.” He didn’t say anything more before he leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss against James’ lips which the Gryffindor happily returned.

“No! No! No! NO! NOOOOO! Rule number six of dating my brother clearly states ‘no kissing in front of Sirius’!” Sirius grabbed the pillow that was beneath his head, throwing it right at their grinning faces. “You both have to put a galleon in the jar now!”

[scary-grace]

blind date (part ii) - shigaraki x reader

After endless failed attempts to help Tomura up his game, his friends have settled on their last resort: A blind date. Even before you show up, it's not going well. No quirks AU, female reader.

Part 1

Part 2

“No.”

“Yes,” you say. You look sort of embarrassed. “Eight times.”

“No way.” Tomura studies you across the table. His eyes feel blurry with exhaustion and alcohol, but he’d prop his eyelids open with toothpicks before he’d let you think he was falling asleep. “I don’t buy it. Two, maybe. Not eight.”

“Why would I lie about this?” You take a sip of a drink. It might be yours, or it might be Tomura’s. There are so many mostly-empty glasses on the table between the two of you that Tomura’s forgotten which ones he ordered. “If anything, I’d lie the other way. Being stood up for eight first dates isn’t exactly a good sign.”

Tomura finds another drink, finishes it, and gives his verdict. “It’s a sign you met eight stupid guys.”

“I don’t think that’s it,” you say. “If it was one person, or two – but eight? At that point it’s more likely that I’m the problem.”

Tomura doesn’t think so. Tomura’s been talking to you for a while. Probably hours. He lost track of time at some point, probably around when he lost track of which drinks were his and which were yours, and there’s nothing about you that looks like a problem to him. Except the fact that nobody else is dating you, and that looks more like a crazy stroke of luck for Tomura than anything else.

Tomura might not be good at this shit, but he’s not naïve. He keeps checking in with himself, trying to make sure his interest in you isn’t just because you’re a woman who’s talked to him for longer than five minutes without looking at your phone. He hasn’t seen you take your phone out except once, and that was to put it on silent. Which was – hot isn’t right, but Tomura doesn’t really have a better word, except nice, which isn’t right, either. It’s not just because you’re a woman who talked to him or held his hand or ran to meet him even though you were late. He likes a lot of other things about you, too.

He likes that you showed up looking the way you actually look most of the time, instead of dressing up like Magne told you to. He likes that you don’t try to pretend to be something you’re not. When Tomura started talking about video games, you didn’t act like you knew something about them – just like he didn’t pretend he knew something when you started talking about horror movies or novels or manga. You’re funny, but not on purpose. Or at least that’s what Tomura thought, until he glanced at your face after you’d said something that made him laugh and realized that it was what you’d been hoping to do.

“Sorry,” you say, and Tomura snaps out of it. “Talking about past dates on a first date is kind of a red flag, isn’t it?”

“I asked,” Tomura says, wondering if you called this a first date because you’re hoping for a second one. You shrug. “If you’ve met that many shitty guys, how come you agreed to this? What did Magne tell you about me?”

“What did she tell me.” You finish one of the drinks and grimace slightly. “Um, she said you were my age.”

“Okay.”

“She said you have a job,” you continue, “and friends.”

“Yeah,” Tomura agrees. “We have an apartment. We were friends before we had the apartment. It’s not just because we have an apartment.”

“Magne said you’ve all known each other forever,” you say. You smile slightly. “It sounds nice.”

It’s a good thing Tomura’s known them forever. He hasn’t had a lot of luck making friends as an adult. The closest he’s come to making a friend as an adult is probably Dabi’s stupid fiancé, and that’s only because he never leaves. Toga keeps saying that she thinks he’ll like her girlfriend, but she also never lets her girlfriend within a kilometer of the apartment. One time Tomura asked her why not and Toga gave him the weirdest look he’s ever seen. “You’re all boys,” she said. “You’re gross.”

Maybe that’s true. Tomura’s never been in a woman’s apartment, so he doesn’t really have a way to confirm. How gross could it be, really? He should probably ask Toga for specifics. “Did Magne say anything else?”

“She said online dating and the apps weren’t really working for you,” you say. “You do better in person. I don’t know what you’re like online, but – I feel like she was probably right.”

Tomura’s face flushes. He finishes another drink to cover it up. “Your turn,” you say. “What did Magne tell you about me?”

“Uh,” Tomura starts. He finds another drink, but can’t quite stomach finishing it just yet. He’s already about to screw this up, and it’s going to be worse if he throws up on you afterwards. “Not much. Just that you were a girl and you were my age and that you agreed to it.”

You laugh at that. “That’s the important stuff,” you say. “She did a good job managing your expectations.”

“No,” Tomura says. You blink. “She should have told me more.”

“She doesn’t really know more,” you say. “I only see her at work. She got my number so I could tell her when I’m on shift and my boss is off.”

“What’s your boss’s deal, anyway?” Tomura asks. “Just an all-purpose asshole, or –”

“He’s not great to us. The employees, I mean.” You don’t like talking about this. Tomura can tell. “But he makes things really hard on customers who have certain prescriptions. HRT and stuff like that. He doesn’t do anything they can report him for, but he makes it so miserable for them that they don’t want to come in to pick their meds up.”

Tomura knows that type. Magne runs into that type a lot. If it happens when all of them are out together, Tomura and the others take care of it, but they can’t be there every second. “A few people have my number,” you continue. “I give them a heads-up when their prescriptions are in and he’s out.”

“Why didn’t she tell me that?”

“She did,” you say. Tomura meant before, and says so. “Maybe she thought you’d think I was too nice.”

Tomura snorts. “That guy who tried to cut us in line didn’t think you were too nice.”

If he’d been by himself, Tomura would have let it slide just because he doesn’t care enough, but you blocked the guy’s way with your arms crossed, and when he told you to move, you stared at him until he backed off. “Okay, so not too nice,” you say. You pick up another glass, see it’s empty, and wince. “But if she’d told you more about me, you’d have found a reason not to show up.”

“If she’d told you more about me, you’d have said no.” Tomura feels pretty confident in that, and more so with however many drinks under his belt. “She told you I was bad at app dating.”

“Lots of people are.”

“So bad at it that I’ve never been on a date.” Tomura feels pretty good about one-upping you right up until he sees your eyes widen, but his mouth is way ahead of his brain. “Beat that.”

It’s quiet for a second. Tomura stares at you, feeling his face heat up with embarrassment, while you peer into glass after glass, trying to find one that hasn’t been emptied yet. “I don’t know,” you say. “I think being stood up eight times is worse.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“My record is terrible,” you say. You find one more glass and drain it. “Your record, on the other hand – you’re one for one. I’d say that’s pretty good.”

“One for one on what?” Tomura asks.

“Dates,” you say. “This one’s going well.”

“Yeah?” Tomura’s mouth goes dry. He looks around for a glass with something in it, so that he’ll be able to speak without swallowing his tongue, but he comes up empty. You slide your water glass across the table to him and Tomura gulps half of it. “You think it’s going well?”

You looked pretty calm until he said that. Tomura sees you getting nervous. He slides the glass of water back across the table to you in case you want to drink it, but you leave it alone. “I mean,” you start, “we met up at five-forty-five, and it’s almost last call. Maybe it’s just me, but I wouldn’t spend eight hours hanging out with somebody if it wasn’t going well.”

“Last call?” Tomura says, like a dumbass, only for the bartender to shout it out to the room at large a few seconds later. “Eight hours? Really?”

You nod. “So either it’s going well,” you say, “or you just didn’t have anything better to do.”

If Tomura doesn’t want to be somewhere, he goes home even if there’s nothing better to do. He’d rather spend hours watching the most boring vintage simulation game streams in history than spend two seconds longer being social than he wants to. Eight hours hanging out with one person is a record, even once Tomura subtracts the bathroom breaks he had to take because he was dumb enough to break the seal four drinks in. Has he ever spent eight hours doing nothing but talking with someone without getting bored? No. Not even close.

“It’s going well,” he says, and you look relieved. Not happy, just relieved. That’s – not good. “They’re kicking us out now.”

“Yeah.” You get to your feet and stagger a little bit. You probably drank at least as much as Tomura did, but you’re shorter than him, and you’re a woman. Are you okay? “I’m going to go pay. We should figure out rides home. The trains don’t run this late.”

Tomura fucked up somehow. He can’t figure out how, but he’s pretty sure he did. But you’re still about to get kicked out, and somebody has to pay the tab – and somebody has to figure out how you two are getting home. He gets to his feet, too. “I’ll get it. It can’t be that much.”

You look back at all the glasses on the table. “I think it’s going to be a lot. We’ll split.”

Even with the split, it’s more than Tomura’s spent on a night out, ever – and the longer he spends upright, the clearer it is that he’s trashed. You’re trashed, too. Maybe less than he is, because you’re still trying to work out how to get home. “It’ll be cheaper if we split a rideshare,” you say, and hold out your phone. “Put in your address.”

Tomura forgets his own address for a second. Then he types it in, and you take your phone back. “Okay. It’ll drop you off first, then me. Let’s go.”

Tomura follows you out, only weaving a little bit, and then the two of you are on the sidewalk again. The air’s still warm and humid, but at least there’s more of a breeze than there was before. You lean against the boardwalk railing and Tomura copies you. He leaves one hand open at his side in case you want to reach for it. You don’t, so Tomura goes for yours instead, and you look up at him. “Tomura?”

“It’s going well,” Tomura says. Your eyes slide away from his, and he asks a question that’s been on his mind since an hour or so in. “Want to do it again?”

“Stay out until two am on a work night and blow five times my hourly rate on drinks?” You shake your head. “Go on another date? Yeah.”

Tomura hears all of that in the right order, except the thing in the middle that he actually asked about. “It’s a work night?”

“For you, too. You said earlier.” Your hand moves in Tomura’s, unfolding your fingers to lace them together with his. “We should have called it quits four hours ago.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to.” Tomura shouldn’t have had this much to drink. He’s saying stuff he probably shouldn’t. Or should he? He doesn’t see the point in lying about shit on a regular basis. Why start now? “I still don’t.”

Next to Tomura, you take a deep breath, then let it go. “Okay. Give me your phone.”

Tomura fishes it out of his pocket with his free hand and passes it to you, then has to take it back to unlock it. He watches as you navigate to his contacts and add yourself to them – your first name, plus the words “blind date”, like Tomura’s going to forget who you are. How many women do you think he has in his phone? You hand it back to him after saving your contact and Tomura waits for you to hand yours over so he can add his number to yours. You don’t. “I need your phone. You need my number.”

“If you text me, then I’ll have it,” you say. “If you don’t, I won’t need it.”

Tomura feels weird about that. “Is this some kind of test?”

“I’ve gotten stood up eight times. I’m done chasing after people who don’t want me.” You loosen your grip on Tomura’s hand, like you’re giving him the chance to let go. “I ran sixteen blocks to meet you. You can send me a text.”

Tomura can see where you’re coming from. Sort of. The rideshare shows up, and the two of you slide into the backseat. Going from standing up to sitting down gives Tomura some kind of drunken headrush, and he slumps sideways against you. “Sorry –”

“It’s fine.” You shift around in your seat until Tomura’s cheek is resting on your shoulder. You’re still holding his hand. “I don’t mind.”

Tomura doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but the next thing he knows, the rideshare’s coming to a stop outside his apartment building and you’re shaking him awake with the hand that was holding his. “We’re here,” you say. “It was nice to meet you, okay? I had a really good night.”

Tomura nods. His mouth tastes like something died in it, and his mind feels foggy, but not so foggy that he can’t figure out how he wants to say goodbye. Maybe you know. “What do we do?”

“How about a hug?”

Sounds good. Tomura’s mouth tastes too bad for kissing, anyway, and his lips are gross enough to make you wish you’d never met him. He reaches out and drags you awkwardly across the backseat and into his arms, and you – fit. Tomura normally hates touching people, and he hates it even more when he’s drunk, but you fit, still and quiet with your head tucked in against his shoulder and your eyelashes brushing the side of his neck when you blink. Tomura could go back to sleep like this, easy. He’s having a hard time keeping his eyes open.

“Hey,” the driver says from the front seat. “Are you staying or going?”

“Are you in a big hurry or something?” Tomura pulls away from you with an effort and gets out of the car. The door shuts behind him, and Tomura turns to say goodbye, but he’s too slow. All he gets is a glimpse of your face through the window as the rideshare drives away.

Tomura should text you right now. The thought occurs to him, but then a mosquito bites him, and he slaps it a second too late. He’ll get inside the stupid building and get to his room, and then he can text you. It’s a good plan. Whether Tomura will remember it by the time he gets to the apartment is an entirely different story.

Tomura and his friends live on the top floor. The entire top floor. It used to be a penthouse, back when both the building and the neighborhood weren’t shit, but now the rent is cheap enough that the seven of them can afford it together. They all get their own rooms, three bathrooms is usually enough for everybody, and usually there’s at least one person who’s willing to cook dinner and let the rest of them mooch. Tomura and his roommates all keep weird hours, but by two-thirty in the morning everybody’s usually in their rooms, even if they’re awake. He’s not going to bother anybody as long as he’s quiet.

Or at least that’s what Tomura thinks. He’s dead wrong, because when the elevator doors open, he finds all the lights on in the living room, and most of the people he lives with sitting in there, wide awake. It looks like they’re waiting for something. It occurs to Tomura with slowly dawning horror that they’re waiting for him.

He makes the first move out of shock more than anything else. “What the fuck?”

“We decided to wait up for you. Since it’s baby’s first date and all,” Dabi says with a smirk. His stupid fiancé is here, too, perched on the arm of the chair Dabi’s in. “So how’d it go?”

Tomura doesn’t want to talk about this when he’s drunk. He wouldn’t want to talk to Dabi about it stone sober. He shakes his head. “Come on,” Twice announces from where he’s sprawled out on the rug next to Toga. “Nobody comes back from a date at three in the morning and gets to shake his head about it. Spill. No, don’t spill! I don’t want any nasty details.”

“I want all the nasty details,” Magne says. “What happened?”

“Perhaps we shouldn’t quiz him,” Sako says from the other chair. “Shigaraki will tell us what he wants to, when he wants to.”

Sako is officially the only person Tomura’s not pissed at right now. “No, he has to tell us now,” Toga says. “We’ve all been working on this for a month. We have to hear how it went!”

“Give us at least a few details,” Dabi’s idiot fiancé says. “We need something to base our wild speculations on.”

“You don’t live here,” Tomura says. Dabi glares at him. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Wait, it was bad?” Spinner runs the opposite way with it. “Why didn’t you just come back? Or you could have called us – we’d come drink with you –”

“It wasn’t bad,” Tomura snaps. “I got her number.”

He was hoping that would shut everybody up. Instead they all trade glances. “That’s it?” Dabi asks, incredulous. “You get back an hour after last call and all you got was her number?”

That’s not all Tomura got. “She said we should go out again. And we held hands.”

“Are you thirteen or something? That’s so lame,” Dabi’s idiot fiancé says. “Was she like, not –”

“She’s not that kind of girl,” Magne says. She reaches over from the couch to punch Dabi in the arm, even though it was the goddamn fiancé who said it. “You think I’d set Shigaraki up with that kind of girl?”

“Yeah, because that’s the kind of girl he’ll be dealing with in Vegas. Did you time-warp back to the fifties when I wasn’t looking?” Dabi grimaces. “You’re supposed to be upping your game. This is a setback.”

Tomura finally gets his feet under him. “No, it isn’t,” he says. “I had fun.”

He feels weird saying it, even though it’s true. He had fun walking around with you trying to find a bar you both wouldn’t hate, because both of you hate when things get too loud. He had fun talking about any of the fifty things the two of you talked about over the course of the eight hours you spent together. He liked seeing you square off with the asshole who tried to cut you both in line and he liked seeing you order the weirdest drink on the menu, even though it was disgusting and neither of you could finish it. He liked that he didn’t notice you trying to make him laugh until it already happened. He liked holding your hand.

Tomura had fun on his date, end sentence. “You guys are assholes. I’m going to bed.”

“We’re not assholes! We want to help,” Twice protests. “You don’t need our help! You’re doing fine.”

“Yeah, I’m with Twice,” Spinner says. Twice starts arguing with him, but Spinner ignores it. “It’s a win if you say it’s a win. Hanging out with somebody who’s not us for that long is definitely a win.”

“It’s not a game,” Toga says. She rolls over on her back and stares up at Tomura. “Are you going to text her?”

Right. Tomura was going to do that. He fumbles his phone out of his pocket. “No,” Dabi and his fucking fiancé say at the same time. Dabi keeps talking. “It hasn’t even been an hour. Are you trying to look desperate?”

“I texted Ochako while I was on the train home from our first date,” Toga says. Toga’s the only one other than Dabi who’s in an actual relationship, rather than a bunch of situationships, friends-with-benefits things, and hookups they block the next day. “I wasn’t desperate.”

“You’re the most desperate person I’ve ever met. But you’re a girl, so it’s cute on you,” Magne says. “It’s not cute on guys. It’s weird.”

“I don’t think it is,” Spinner says. Tomura adds Spinner and Toga to the list of people he doesn’t hate right now. “Sending a dick pic or begging for nudes would be desperate. Just saying something is – nice. I’ve never had a date text me the same night before. I wouldn’t mind.”

“In that case, your date would be a girl,” Magne points out. “Cute when girls do it. Weird when guys do. I’d know.”

Tomura lost the plot a few sentences back. “I wasn’t going to send a dick pic. I don’t even have a dick pic.”

Dabi’s fiancé wheezes. “What?”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Toga pops up off the floor. “Tomura-kun has work tomorrow and so do I – and so does Spinner – so we’re all going to go to bed.”

“We are?” Spinner asks, then yelps as Toga yanks him off the couch. “Hey!”

“That’s right,” Toga sings out. She grabs Tomura’s arm, too, and Tomura barely manages to avoid getting yanked off his feet. He stumbles down the hall after her, colliding with Spinner a few times. It’s all he can do to keep ahold of his phone.

Toga’s bedroom, Spinner’s, and Tomura’s are all along the same hallway, sharing the same bathroom. Once they’re in the hallway, Tomura plants his feet. “Why are you kidnapping me?”

“We’re not kidnapping you. Your room is right there.” Toga points, like there was any way Tomura was going to forget. He’s drunk, but not that drunk. “They were being mean. I’m happy for you. So is Spinner. Right, Spinner?”

“Like I said. A win’s a win.”

“It’s not a game.” Toga elbows him. Then she looks at Tomura. “They’re making it sound complicated and it’s not. If you like her, text her. If you don’t, don’t. Easy. Now go to bed.”

It’s not a puzzle game. It’s a yes or no question. Tomura likes that a lot better than whatever the hell the others wanted him to do. Still – “Do I need a dick pic?”

It’s quiet for at least a minute. “You know what,” Spinner says finally, “we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. I’m with Toga. Go to bed before you get yourself in trouble.”

Tomura’s tempted to tell them both that he’s doing it because he wants to, not because they’re telling him to, but then he decides not to waste the air. The sooner he goes to his room, the sooner he can send you a message without everyone bothering him about it. He shuffles back to his room, flops down on the bed – which he didn’t make this morning, because he’s just going to get back in it later – and pulls out his phone. When he taps the contact icon, the first thing he sees is the contact you set for yourself.

Your name (blind date). Tomura opens a message and gets stuck trying to think of what to say. Short is probably better. His mind is off on some weird paths right now, a lot of which have to do with you and his dick and all of which would be a lot more of a problem if he wasn’t still drunk. And none of which you need to know about. You also don’t need to know about the ambush his friends set up for him when he got home. Or the fact that Tomura’s friends only sent him on this date so he could get better at women before the trip to Vegas in two months.

That might have been why Magne set you and Tomura up, but that’s not why Tomura’s texting you. this is tomura. i want a second date. That gets the point across for sure. If you texted Tomura that he’d count it as a win, so he sends it. But Toga said it’s not a game. Spinner said it would be nice to get a text from a date. What would Tomura want you to say, if he got a text from you?

Tomura overthinks it. He overthinks it so hard that he falls asleep, and only wakes up when he drops his phone on his face. You haven’t texted back yet, but it’s only been fifteen minutes since he sent the message, and you’re probably asleep. What kind of text would Tomura want to see from you when he woke up in the morning? That you liked him. That you had fun. Maybe you’d say something funny, too. Tomura doesn’t do funny. He almost falls back asleep again, then hauls himself up to wakefulness hand over hand, sitting up in the bargain. One more message. It should be easy.

sorry I fell asleep on you is what Tomura says. He barely manages to plug in his phone before he falls asleep for good.

He wakes up to his alarm howling, right on schedule. He can hear Spinner’s alarm doing the same thing from across the hall. Tomura’s mouth tastes like he threw up in it in his sleep. He fumbles for his phone to hit snooze on the alarm, but in the split second before he does, he sees a text notification. Everybody he texts has been asleep for the last – Tomura looks at the time and groans – four hours. So who –

Tomura unlocks his phone at warp speed and taps the message icon. He remembers texting you last night, but he didn’t remember how stupid he sounded. Sorry he fell asleep on you? You’re probably texting him to fuck off. Tomura glances down at your message. His head hurts badly enough that he has to read it five or six times to process it all the way.

You gave his first text a thumbs-up, then asked what he wants to do on the second date. But you replied directly to his stupid second message. it’s okay. next time it’s my turn.

Tomura’s lips split as an uncontrollable grin crosses his face. He got four hours of sleep. He’s got a full day of work and a hangover to go with it, and the instant he sets foot in the living room, his friends are going to start up on him about how he’s handling this all wrong. But Tomura must not be handling it all that badly, because he’s got a second date, and for a few seconds, the hangover and work and everything else doesn’t matter at all.

[majoliish]

imagine showing any of the celestials that stupid little illusion that makes it look like youre pulling your thumb off and they all collectively lose their SHIT. like freaking out, yelling at solomon for teaching you dangerous magic, asking why youd ever do such a stupid thing, only for you to put it back and theyre just so baffled. once its been explained, diavolo and mammon would be enamoured, begging you to show them the trick behind it.

by extension. telling one of them youve "got their nose" and running off, only for them to chase after you and demand for it back. luke just straight up bursts into tears.

[srnileforme]

“I'm brushing my teeth, why did you come in? I forgot to put on my face cream.”

JACK & JOKER (2024) | EPISODE 6