#it was the perfect snack for my commute home

[willyoubemycherryy]

Seeing is deceiving. (Salesman x reader)

Summary: You were witness to something you shouldn’t have been. Or were you? Seeing is deceiving after all…

Contains: [Oh Lord], here we go because not only is this long, it’s filth😭, you see him slightly in action as the recruiter, bullying, small panic attack, Clueless mention, manhandling, kissing, edging, v!brators, being restricted, the word daddy but referring to her actual father it’s NOT a s€x thing, degradation, cursing, manipulation, nasty kissing, pvssy spanking, overstimulation, multiple 0rgasms, squirting, dacriphylia, oral, a bit of cl!t t°rture, throat fucking, dom/sub dynamics, he’s big meanie :(((, my word, mind-break but not like that, we’re consensual and safe over here, biting, breezing by red flags like here comes the sun, praise, dirty talk and petnames anddd that’s all for now😭

A/N: back again for that threepeat of the dads!friend au! babies so here we go😉🤭

Kisses and more to—>@dorayakissu @jae-mie @lcvsanaa @love2fangirl @jusferisnothere @dilfismz @mybahama @trentknd @reka13 @511rkive @gr-red @karrashifts @nicklet94 @sangwoosb1tch @muchwita @deliur @urfavdarkskinn @lilahardell @ilovemusic28 @se0kie @taylormarieee aka my wife ♡

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ _ X _

You slam the door behind you as you lean against it with a deep sigh. Shaking your head; you try to process what you just saw on your way home.

You’d been passing through the same park you always did on your commute when you saw a familiar dark haired suited man in the distance, instantly stopping you in your tracks.

His back was turned to you but the shot of heat to your core at the mere sight of him was a dead certain ringer that you weren’t seeing things. It was him. Perfect hair, perfect suit, perfect shoes, and fuck you all over again- his height. He seemed to be talking to someone or multiple people when he suddenly started yelling and your eyes widened as you took a small step forward and saw who, exactly. They looked to be… homeless people.

He stood on a pile that looked a lot like snack food and your breath caught; freezing you in place as your mind began to race.

Something blew past your foot and when you look down your heart stops as your wide eyes land on a scratched lottery ticket. The looming sense- almost the same as when you first met him- takes over but with more dread as you put two and two together.

If they didn’t win, they didn’t get food?

You’d always had strong intuitions. They were never wrong.

From the moment you locked eyes with him in your kitchen, you knew right then and there that there was something wrong with him. Even through the interest, the attraction, the sneaking around and the arousal- deep down you knew. And you were right. Staring right at the evidence.

Looking up, you’re frozen- watching him turn around to see that same perfect grin on his handsome face before his eyes scan the downtrodden looking crowd- until they land on you.

You share a brief moment of eye contact before you’re spinning on your heel and escaping before it’s too late leaving.

Now, you’re at home, trying to deal with the fact that the only man who’s ever been able to rail you not only into submission but unconsciousness as well is also a complete empathy lacking sociopath who gets his jollies from bullying homeless people as if they didn’t have it hard enough. You know in a way, it’s contradictory for you of all people to judge him given all the ways you’ve let him have you- your dads friend- but you still had limits.

Dropping your bag by the door, you take a deep breath before pushing yourself off and look around, taking in the familiar space as you will yourself to calm. A soft smile crosses your face as you see your dads half finished drink mug on the coffee table, the slight dip in the spot he normally sat on the couch and you breathe. He wouldn’t be home for another few hours which gives you time to figure out how to casually question him about his new friend and what exactly he knew about him and his life…say, if he’s noticed any.. deranged tendencies.

You go up to your room to change, trying to think and not overwhelm yourself but it’s hard. Everyone has a dark side but what daunted you most was that you never knew how dark it went- especially with older men you didn’t truly know. You take off your set of the day; a plaid miniskirt with matching blazer, fitted white blouse and white thigh high stockings complete with heels to a oversized band shirt but leave your socks on after you ditch your heels. The whole outfit was inspired after a movie you watched last night with your dad and your friend called ‘Clueless’. Before you can finish getting unready, the doorbell chime echos through the house- making you jump- and your brows crease in confusion.

Your classes ended before your friends so you know it wasn’t any of them plus your best friend had the code. It was too early for your dad and he obviously had the code but you also remember that your dad has the habit of falling for the nonsensical shit sold on infomercials; having ordered some stuff last week with prime shipping so it was probably here already. The doorbell rings again and you sigh as you make sure your shirt is long enough to cover anything too heart-racing before grabbing a pen off your desk incase you need to sign for anything and bounding down the stairs to swing open the door.

The second you open it, your heart falls clean through your chest and out your ass when you come face to face with a pair of dark almond eyes and full lips curved into a smile.

“Hello-”,

You slam the door shut so fast the sound of the lock is delayed, pen slipping out of your hand.

Now comes the painful moment when your heart shoots back up into your chest, powered by pure adrenaline as it pounds 2 times its normal speed. He was probably here to kill you. Yet before your raw panic leads to hysterics, the doorbell rings again with all the comfort of the tolling of an undertakers bell as it rolls through the large space and for once you wish your house was smaller.

You don’t move at all to open it again and after a beat of silence, his deep voice calls out to you- by name first, shaking you to your core because you don’t remember him ever calling you by your name and the way it sounds…

“Let’s have a talk-”,

“How about no. Or actually, why? I don’t believe we have anything to talk about.” You interrupt him and your voice doesn’t shake like you thought it definitely would but he can still hear the nervousness and smirks to himself, tossing a glance to the side before looking back at the door. The one his recently acquired sharp mouthed pretty little investment stood behind. You’d been a clear witness to something you weren’t supposed to see.

Clear in the sense that you were a credible witness. Not on any drugs- besides the birth control pills he’d seen on your nightstand your first time together- you weren’t an alcoholic, and you came from a well off, honest background unlike the people who met their fate at his hands, if you were to say anything to anyone about something suspicious, they’d most likely believe you.

A huge part of being able to do what he does is staying traceless. You were now a liability to that. And liabilities left unattended became issues.

So, he was here to tend to that liability, not by harming you but simply making you forget a little bit.

“Why? Well because you saw something that I’d prefer to keep quiet. Much like how I saw you somewhere wearing less than something, away from daddy dearests watchful eye not even a week and a half ago-”,

Your eyes snap wide and before he can finish outing the rest of your last tryst, you’re swinging the door open and pulling him in by his pristine blazer jacket, staring up at his annoyingly attractive face in irritation, shock and disbelief.

“Fine. Let’s chat. I’ll go first-”, you sneer and he just smiles pleasantly down at you, pissing you off enough to forget your previous apprehension. “What the fuck is your problem?”

Ooh. There’s that biting tone again but he’s come to appreciate what it gets him. As much as he wants to drag this out, rile you to your breaking point and play with tipping you over, he’s not sure if time is on his side.

“To which standard? Societally, humanitarilly, or personally?” He asks cluelessly, as if he was talking about the weather and your frown deepens.

“All of them.” You hiss out, narrowing your doe eyes at him and he coos; making a show out of bending to your height; looking you condescendingly in the eyes when he replies, “Uh-oh. That’s not allowed. You were only supposed to pick one, little girl.”

“But-!“, he continues like you didn’t even speak,“But since you technically didn’t, I don’t have to answer.” He flicks an eyebrow up while you look like you’re seconds from throwing a fit which is exactly where he wants you because this way it’s easier to steer you back towards the original focus, standing to his full height as he readjusts the grip on his briefcase.

“Then can you answer what was that at the park? Is that something you just do in your free time-”, you pause as you remember something he said to you the last time he saw you out,

“Does my dad know his friend gets his rocks off playing sick games with the less fortunate?”

His eyes darken at that and so does his smile at the exaggerated wide eyed expression on your face, shiny lips dropped in a small ‘O’ as you raise your manicured hand to hover over it and he huffs in amusement. Shaking his head he steps closer into your space, wiping that look right off as your heart stutters at his proximity- the expensively warm smell of him wafting in your face as he leans back down to your height to even the score. You stare back defiantly and he chuckles darkly; wondering if you were aware of your penchant for getting in over your lovely spoiled head.

“No. And he won’t- in fact nobody will. Not unless you want daddy to know all about how you like being my personal slut in your free time.”

His words are like ice but the heat in their explicitness makes fire slot to your cunt. You stare back at him stunned, letting out a scandalized scoff.

“You wouldn’t.” But he nods, nice n’ slow as he raises a finger to tilt your chin up and against everything, you feel your body start to warm.

“Oh, but I would. Care to find out?”

You keep your mouth shut but your glare says more than enough and he rises fully, moving his hand to your lower back as he guides you to a chair with a padded leather cushion, firm hand making you sit.

You look up at him in wary confusion while he takes you in from the sweetness of your face down to the swells of your chest through your oversized shirt and the soft fat of your thighs being squeezed by the pure white fabric of your socks. The color was deeply ironic since typically white meant purity and he knows you in ways that are the exact opposite. He kneels in front of you, big hands settling on your ankles before running up the smoothness of your half covered legs and you suck in a sharp breath. His hands were dangerous. Memories of what he could do with them make you burn from the inside out and you try to blink it away but then he speaks.

“Let’s play a game. One where you can learn enough about me to decide if I’m sane-”,

“What’s the catch?” You cut him off with an unknowingly spot on question and he grins.

“How do you mean?” He tries to feign ignorance but you scoff, not buying it.

“You’re a business man right? So sales come with catches. Like to get one free, you have to buy one.” He hums, nodding as he rises to his feet. You’re a clever little thing.

He’s leaning down over you, making your breath hitch at how close he suddenly is to your face; looking at you appraisingly for a couple seconds before catching you in a deep kiss. Almost instinctively, your eyes flutter shut and letting him take control is muscle memory as his hands ghosts over your jaw to fit around your throat; sucking your lips between his own before licking into your mouth- tongue hot and demanding and you melt. Wet, muffled moans come from your chest as he kisses you dizzy before pulling away with a harsh smack. Licking his lips of the taste of you and one look at you tells him that you’re wet. And distracted.

Perfect.

Backing off, he kneels back down to where he was before but he grabs his briefcase as well, setting it down in front of you. Watching you shift. You’re completely correct I’m not trusting him completely. He was dangerous- not well- but reminding yourself of that doesn’t make giving in any less conflicting behind all the reasons why you’re so attracted to him in the first place either. There was something you needed to know but the specifics of it were getting further and further away with every hit of him.

“Let’s do this”, his low drawl breaks your train of thought, “every 3 minutes you last without coming, you get to ask me a question.”

You try to hide the flicker of interest on your face as lava pools in your stomach, clit pulsing at the thought of him making you cum but it gives as curiosity wins over. However, as of current, you still hardly knew him so you could be wrong; deciding to leave the skepticism in your voice as you begin your interrogation.

“..but what if you lie? We’re not exactly close so how would I even know if you did? ‘S not exactly fair…” He smiles as he commends you.

You were keen too.

Oddly intuitive to a point and he’s even more eager to get you to play now- see how far they go as he runs the risk of exposing the more sinister side of him.

But that’s what makes games fun- the risks.

“Then I’ll give you my word. I won’t lie during our game.” You pause to think but it sounded simple enough to you agree.

“Deal.”

•

•

•

No sooner than the word left your lips, he opened his briefcase, pulling out a rod of sorts with thick leather loops on either side and a small oval case. It was obvious by your face that you had no idea what the items were but he ignores it, setting you up prettily with a grin.

He goes over the rules of your little game as he shifts your hips forward, smiling at your gasp before extending to the rod and opening the loops where he fits each one around of your ankles- sliding them up just under your knees; your face heats at how completely exposed you are and you shake your head in confusion before it suddenly makes sense.

You couldn’t close your legs.

The realization fills you with more arousal than fear and you bite your lip, feeling giddy. It kinda bums that the only way you’d get what you need to know was by depriving yourself of what you want but that’s fine. It’d be worth it.

Only- you didn’t know that the game you just agreed to was nothing more than a distraction and whether you could handle it or not, he’s making sure by the end of it that you don’t even remember your own name.

Once your legs are secure, he opens a small oval case and pulls out something about 4 inches long but thick as 3 of his own fingers and your jaw drops as he pushes the bar up- blowing over your messy wet hole before looking up at you with a dark smile, eyebrow raised and you swallow harshly.

“Ready?”

You nod, heart thrumming when a choked gasp tumbles out of you as the thing in his hand is sliding into you. It’s not that long but fuck is it thick and you can’t help the whine from the back of your throat, cunt fluttering around the stretch of the intrusion and he whistles. Watching with rapt eyes as wetness drips down your holes and he licks his lips at the sight- remembering the sweet taste of your pussy vividly and it makes his cock jump.

He presses the bottom of the the device and you think it’s to push it deeper but to your horror; it begins to vibrate. And strongly. A sharp moan shoots out of you, eyes widening while you instinctively try to arch away from the pleasure making your nerves go haywire.

Unfortunately for you, the way your lower body is already positioned makes it easy for those delicious vibrations to simmer up against that spot inside you and your temperature rises and short, quick breaths are all you can do to keep from even thinking about wanting to cum.

Holding out is supposed to be one of those mind over matter things but when he lowers his head, sucking firm openmouthed kisses to the sensitive skin around your cunt but not where you want him, it’s absolute torture.

A hand cracks down on the back of your thigh and it stings so good- you hiss in pleasure even as he bites the apex of your opposite thigh, leaving behind a painful sting that burns with the indent of his teeth. Your hips involuntarily jerk up at the sensations as your moans rise in pitch while you squeeze your eyes shut and think of every unappealing thing you can imagine when everything suddenly stops and you drop your head back with a relieved sigh.

3 minutes was up.

He looks you over, swiping through your wetness with a finger up to your clit and giving you some tight, quick circles, enjoying the way you tremble from the direct pressure but it’s gone almost as quickly as it came and you’re starting to get whiplash. A blow of air to your clit makes you look down, blinking blearily. The man responsible for your condition smiles darkly.

“Congratulations. You won the first round. What do you want to know?” He asks and you scramble to sort your thoughts, the dull ache from being close and not coming nags at you but you needed to focus…the only issue was deciding if you needed to cum more than focus. Clearing your throat so you don’t sound too affected, you ask the first thing that comes to mind.

“How old are you?” The look he shoots you makes you groan, especially when you move to squeeze your thighs together only to remember that you can’t thanks to the bar keeping them open.

He’d told you when you first met that he was older than your father but you didn’t believe it. Mainly because he just looked too young; older than you of course but not too up there. You half expect him to lie but he smiles when you learn that you’re wrong again.

“I’m 45 turning 46 this summer.” Holy shit. Your dad is 43. He really was older.

You can’t keep the slack-jawed shock off your face and he laughs. You were such a treat when you weren’t getting in trouble or being a brat. You rush to squeeze in another question.

“Wait so do you actually work in sales too-ah!” He cuts you off by licking a hot strip up your cunt, vibrator vrring to life as the pleasure starts melting your insides. It feels like your chest is gonna cave in from how hard you suck in your next breath when he slots his mouth over your clit like he’s wanted to since the first flashback he had of how sweet you’d tasted under his tongue last time, and sucking- flicking his tongue over the nub during the process.

Your heart sinks when you realize how close you already are from being pushed to the edge but not over. It’s not fair. If you didn’t cum then he’d have to answer whatever you asked but there’s no way you’d be able to stay composed enough for long enough to ask anything that actually mattered. His mouth is relentless as he laps and sucks at your pussy, humming like you’re a drink he’s been craving after a long stressful day at work.

The hands around your hips are scalding, caressing your skin underneath your shirt and you feel like screaming; lick after lick you get closer and it’s both heaven and hell.

There’s a sick sense of glee that settles in his lower stomach at how close he knows you are. When your buzzing hole is practically pouring slick and your beautifully desperate moans break into hiccuping sobs as your chest begins to rise and fall with every pointless breath you take to fight your inevitable.

If he were a better man, he’d ease up on you- or better yet- not fuck around with his friends daughter to begin with but you were too delicious to pass by.

He slows the drag of his tongue upwards, catching the underside of your twitching clit, he closes his eyes when you wail- letting the sound ring in his ears like his favorite tune. He manages to give you one last flick through your slit before time is up and he’s pulling away with pupils just as blown as your teary ones. Your wet sniffle makes his cock ache to the point of discomfort. He doesn’t wipe his mouth of your wetness, just looks up at you with it smeared all over and smiles. Like a fucking wolf before speaking.

“Good girl. You won again so what would you like to know?”

You briefly look at him like he’s out of his goddamn mind while you try to catch your breath because you can’t focus.

Not like this.

The ache in your stretched cunny hurt, the weight of the vibrator was driving you mad as every puff of air on your clit made it twitch painfully. God, the ache. You have half a mind to ask him to fuck you stupid but you need to know things apparently. You try to remember those things as you open your mouth, adrenaline infused arousal clouding your thoughts. Fuck, you needed to cum.

“D-do you seriously work in marketing and sales? Like- the legit stuff?” Your voice is wet and hoarse but to him it’s when you sound the best and he hums, tilting his head as he thinks.

In a way, what he did was marketing and sales. Technically.

“Not the same as your dad but I do market to people. They get the opportunity of getting money out of what I market to them so I’d say it’s legit.” He chooses his words carefully and you listen to them attentively but you’re too out of it to notice the deliberate placement of them and it’s so pretty and pathetic that he doesn’t hold himself back- dipping his head to meanly suck your clit into his mouth and the ache of your missing orgasms makes your insides burn; tears budding in your eyes as you grip the sides of the chair. He pulls off with a slick ‘pop’, grinning meanly as he cooes at you.

“Aw- are you going to cry?”

The mock in his sentence alone almost sends you hurtling headfirst into coming, mouth dropping open as you let out a weak moan. Said moan turns into a shriek as he turns your vibe back on, the strength in the vibrations knock the remaining air out of your lungs, not giving you any longer than a second to adjust before rubbing messily at your pearl and it’s barely been a full minute but you’re there. You’re right there and you can’t keep yourself from begging.

“N-oh! Not so mu-fuck!” Pleasured moans make it a feat to get the words out and you pray he understands and he does but he doesn’t stop and he knows you don’t want him to. The game wasn’t over yet and sadly for you since it was his game, he was in charge.

“No. We said we’d play, remember pretty? Can’t quit because it feels like you might lose. That’s poor sportsmanship and I’m sure your daddy didn’t raise a quitter?”

He’s always so mean about it.

Deep voice warm full of fake encouragement as he mocks you and the budding tears fall, spurring him on as he raises his hand; cuff link catching in the light before he’s cracking down on your cunt. Slap echoing through the air and it stings it stings it stings- so bad it’s blinding.

But not enough to stop you from getting closer, heart pounding and you can’t catch your breath, every inhale dissolves like smoke and he’s cruel about it. Not letting you catch a break with the hot lashes of his tongue; even coming up every few times to degrade you.

“You should see yourself”,

“Does it hurt? She’s so swollen- I imagine it does”,

“You cry so easily; c’mon, where’s daddy’s big girl?”

You don’t know if he’s referring to himself or your actual father but it doesn’t matter anymore. You feel about ready to pass out from the intensity of it all as you go limp, pussy walls spasming around the toy and you resign to your fate of an orgasm so strong it’ll stop your heart and finally put you out of your misery when everything stops and empty pulses leaving you just on the brink make you scream for real as you’re edged for the third time.

You’d be impressed with yourself if you had more presence of mind but you just don’t have it in you. He knows that too- seeing as how that was the whole point. Tears stream down your face, running your eye makeup but the glossy ruined look suits you and this truly was for your own good. Biting his lip, he smothers a chuckle as he asks you what you want to ask him. The way you sob sending shockwaves of delight up his spine.

It also takes you longer to regulate your breathing, stiff nipples poke through your shirt as your chest heaves until you lift your head enough to look at him; the fight, the confusion, the sheer desperation in your gaze makes him want to take you and keep you.

“..I-i don’t..look-”, clear thinking evades you as you try to remember what started this and what exactly you needed to know so badly from him. The knowing glint in his eye is unhelpful.

“Wha- what did I ask you again?” Your voice is small but thick with neediness that’s cuter than it should be given the situation and it gives him the nastiest rush as he pushes the spreader bar up towards your chest again. Tutting as he shakes his head in faux disappointment.

“The same words that just left your mouth. Not a very good question but oh well. Better luck next time?”

Your eyes pop open and you feel like slapping yourself because that was technically a question. Before you can protest- demand a reassessment- the vibrator gets flipped back on but instead of leaving it in, he takes it out to press it on your clit. It’s warm and slick with your arousal as he holds it against the sensitive bundle of nerves. At this point you’re shaking and he watches with heated eyes as the slight gape of your hole flutters around nothing and he slides his own fingers in- crooking them upwards with a filthy grind against that spot and a punched out gasp is all that manages to squeak by your lips when you cum.

It hits you hard and christ- it goes on forever as your body doesn’t just chase one orgasm but all the other ones you edged yourself with and you sob in the bliss that takes you over, white hot pleasure leaving you raw from the inside out as you make a fucking mess. Liquid sputtering on the leather beneath you, the fingers inside you, and the man in front of you.

It’s so good that by the time it’s over you’re a blank slate. Not a single thought in your head as you lay motionless.

He watches with a stare so hungry it’s scary and his own voice is heady when he speaks, unable to tear his eyes away from the mess that was your swollen pussy fresh off a squirting orgasm. You always came so hard.

It’s getting to be addictive.

“Ooh. That was a good one wasn’t it? Unfortunately, it cost you this round. That means I get to ask you a question so focus up pretty girl.”

He taps your cheek a few times with wet fingers and you groan, forcing your head up as you let out a wrecked,

“Y-yes?”

Even in the face of everything he’s managed to put you through in such a short time, he’s still so good looking. Maddeningly and devastatingly attractive; you’d let him walk you like a dog if it would please him and your cunt throbs at the sight of his face as he asks his question.

“How long until daddy dearest gets home?” The answer fall out before you can stop it, eyes flicking to the clock on the wall behind him.

“4 hours.”

And that is the sound of your benediction.

He huffs out a dark breath moving to lift your chin with his finger, quirking his eyebrow in a condescending look and your pulse races as he rises to full height before bending down to whisper against your mouth.

“Want to go another round? Can you think of any more questions for me, little girl? If you can think at all…”

It’s a rhetorical question because he can see from the familiar vacant look in those doe eyes of yours that whatever suspicions about him are the farthest things from your mind that involve him and he smiles when you prove him right with a small shake once of your head.

After that, he hums, dropping to a knee to free you from the bar, leaving it next to his case as he stands and wraps his large hand around your upper arm- wrenching you up as he tosses you on the couch, drawing a breathy gasp from you. Your heart skyrockets as he throws you around and as you watch him strip his jacket; leaving it on the back of the chair you just came on.

He undoes his belt as he walks back to you, fat cock in hand with his eyes locked on you and the sinful picture you make with tight high socks, the inside of your thighs wet from the liquid of your orgasm. He stops to stand behind you looking into your eyes as he pushes you to lay back down but with your head hanging over the armrest of the couch and the way your heart pikes straight down to your clit- you know exactly what’s coming next. A hand brushes the side of your face, going up to your hair as fingers lock into the strands.

“You still wanna play with me, baby?” He asks for your consent in that roundabout way he does and you nod.

“Open your mouth.”

You do, squeezing your thighs together as he slides in, stretching your throat with the sheer size of him and your eyes water. You swallow hard to keep from choking and it makes him groan deep from his chest. Biting his lip as his brows draw together in pleasure.

The tight slick walls of your throat are snug around him and you’re so good; shivers wrack up his spine as he pulls out and starts thrusting, making you gag as your mouth becomes wetter from his rough treatment of you. Your wet gags send wonderful vibrations up his cock every-time he slams in and he looks down, almost coming from the sight. Your glossy eyes with fucked up runny makeup fluttering into the back of your skull, spit coming from the sides of your stretched out lips and he curses, losing himself in the debauched pleasure.

“Yeah…that’s it. Gag on it- my pretty little slut”, he groans, wrapping a hand around the bulge of your throat with a shudder, bending over until he can touch your cunt, making you choke when he stuffs you with 3 of his fingers, immediately fucking them up into that gooey bundle that makes you nice n’ easy as he treats your poor throat like a fleshlight.

You let him use you, chasing the same high as he bullies your cunt. The added oxygen deprivation from him fucking your throat makes you dizzy- drunk on raw sensations as your heart works overtime to support your fix.

You don’t remember how you got here and you don’t care; pussy twitching hotly around his pounding digits while he doubles his efforts, hips slamming into your face- your muffled cries around his cock bringing him close to the brink. Thumbing your nub roughly, the sweet bliss crashes over you and your eyes knock back into your skull as you cum almost deliriously.

When you cum, your throat becomes airtight as it flexes, milking him so hard he’s shooting ropes with a wet heady moan that makes your skin thrum.

Taking his fingers out, shiny with the milky strings of your arousal- he sucks them clean. Buried in your throat all the while as he catches his breath and enjoys your taste, a pleasant buzz settling over him as he slips out a few seconds later, bending down to kiss you. It’s concerning how he overlooks the fact that his dick was just in there as he sucks harshly at your lips, kissing you like he owned you as he licks deeper into your mouth still coated with saliva and him. You kiss back in a daze until he pulls away with a satisfied purr.

You looked as fucked out as you felt and he finally decides to take mercy on you. Swayed a little by the barb-toothed liking he’s taken to you. He fixes his pants as he grabs a tissue from the box on the coffee table and wipes your mouth while you watch him dazedly. He pulls your shirt down and puts his items back in his briefcase- even wipes your squirt off the chair.

When he’s done, he kneels next to your limp form on the couch with a secretive grin not even trying to hide that he knew something you didn’t and that now you were too gone to clock or press what it was. Oh well. He opens his mouth to mindfuck you one more time.

“So, what did you want to talk about again?”

Your brows furrow and you squint at him while you try to wrack your mind for whatever he was talking about. Was he asking about what happened at the club? You’d gotten home late in somewhat presentable condition but he ran a good story to your father about happening across you and your friend and picking you up on his way home because her car broke down and he’d spotted you guys stranded somewhere with no cell service which explained why you weren’t picking up your phone.

But during everything that happened. You don’t remember telling him you two needed to talk about anything. You give him a belated sigh, shrugging noncommittally and his grin broadens.

“I dunno, can’t remember.” You slur out, grabbing a pillow and shoving it under you as you close your eyes.

He watches you in silence until your breathing evens out when he looks at the clock.

Your dad would come home in two and a half hours to you sleeping innocently on the couch. You who he’d succeeded in making forget the nasty scene at the park.

He’ll be more careful in the future.

He looks down at the captivating features of your face, leaning down to press a soft kiss against your cheek like he did your first night together- inclined to give you something soft after being so rough- reasoning to himself that it’s out of habit and nothing more as he rises to his feet, collecting his jacket and case as he slips out the front door, closing it softly behind him so you stayed sleeping.

His grin is something twisted as he walks down the street to hail a taxi as he thinks about you.

You were smart- keen. Enough to give him trouble. Yet, nowhere near his game. Not yet.

The next round may surprise him.

_this might be the last salesman fic I write. just feels like it’s losing traction :/

[salemsinss]

18+ MDNI reader is GN but there are some feminine terms. Not edited or proof read

Part one Gardener!SimonRiley x Oldmoney!Reader

PrivateChef!Price x Oldmoney!Reader

(TW: creampie, breedingkink, jealousy, masturbation, overstimulation, all of these are vague if you read deep into it)

AN: I was not expecting the amount of love my first post got so thank you so much（≧∇≦）

also currently suffering from a UTI, and when I told my partner he was like you have an std 😭 I told him to kys immediately after men are dumb guys (and I chose this voluntarily…)

Anyway wish me luck with my UTI

Oldmoney!Reader like to happily spend their time at home being a couch potato, they already have enough money to put them and the next three generations through life some would they waste their time working when they can take up any hobby they can imagine

Oldmoney!Reader always finding the most unique recipes on TikTok or Instagram and spamming PrivateChef!Prices inbox on all the apps and even iMessage

PrivateChef!Price who doesn’t live on the manors land like the rest of the staff but actually commutes daily to come to readers home, prep food, cook for them, them return to his own home

PrivateChef!Price who does as best as he can to recreate the recipes reader sends him, making sure to do at least one a week, writing down the ones reader likes more and keeping them in a little note pad he tucks away in his apron.

PrivateChef!Price going far beyond readers expectations with every new recipe he tries and convinces the picky eaters that reader is to eat.

Oldmoney!Reader always looking at the new dishes like they are poisonous and vile, wonder just what they where about to eat rather than having price make them their comfort foods

Oldmoney!Reader who likes to invade prices kitchen and sometimes even kick him out so they can make snacks for Gardener!SimonRiley

PrivateChef!Price who is insanely jealous of the brew chemistry between Oldmoney!Reader and Gardener!SimonRiley

PrivateChef!Price trying to find a way to bend reader over the kitchen counter and take them right then and there but has to snap out of his thoughts to not burn the dish he was working on

PrivateChef!Price a food connoisseur but he can’t help but wonder just good reader would taste laying half naked on the kitchen island, back arched as he ate your cunt like it was the most perfect meal he’s ever eaten

PrivateChef!Price watching reader stumble back into the kitchen after seeing both reader and Gardener!SimonRiley disappear into the garden shed for a while, and reader comes into the kitchen clearly having just been fucked

PrivateChef!Price who has words to say to Gardener!SimonRiley, nothing nice of course because Simon got to his bird first when he had been planning and planning just how he would take the most private of reader as his own

PrivateChef!Price having to leave early the day you and Gardener!SimonRiley get freaky disappeared into the garden shed so he calm his own nerves and not kill the other man, but got the hard on he got strains so tightly in his pants as he saw you walk back into the kitchen also made him have to excuse himself

PrivateChef!Price masturbating to the thought of how fucked out you would look from you taking every part of him, picturing how many orgasms he could probably draw from you within a night, while he ate out your cunt, delved his fingers Into you to stretch out your tight pretty cunt, flicking at your clit while pressing on that soft gummy spot deep inside you before he’s spitting on his cock and slipping it between your folds to lube it up before making you take him inch by inch.

PrivateChef!Price cumming so quickly into his own palm but wishing it was deep inside your cunt so he could see you so full of him cum as he fucks it right back into you until that white ring is forming around the base of his cock, and your crying from overstimulation and too many orgasms to count on one hand

[wheels-of-despair]

The Hawkins Wives Pairing: Background Eddie Munson x Evil Woman Summary: Evil Woman's mom is invited to a Tupperware party! There's no ulterior motive here! The upstanding housewives of Hawkins just want to get acquainted with the new mom in town! Contains: Mom's POV, a common and socially acceptable 1980s cult ritual, concerned citizens, doubts, a warning, a sigh of relief. Words: 2.6k

Mary was starting to feel at home in Hawkins, Indiana.

She'd bought a cute house on a quiet street with a great yard that she'd love to fix up one day. Her kids were relatively close to their new school, which they did not hate, and her work commute was short and scenic. She liked her new coworkers. Well, most of them. The neighbors had welcomed her family with the customary casseroles and then backed off after the initial get-to-know-you stage. No forced friendships, no family drama, no barking dog next door.

She was quite enjoying her peaceful new life.

Until one of the neighbors caught her at the mailbox and insisted that she come to "meet the ladies" at a Tupperware party. Mary had accepted the invitation, although her suspicious nature told her it was a trap. She tried to reason with herself. She liked Tupperware! She liked parties! It was just a bunch of small-town moms socializing! There's nothing to be afraid of!

Still, she spent the whole week dreading the party, being teased by her children about her Stepford Initiation, and pulling things out of her closet and sighing and putting them away again. Why did this feel like high school all over again? Why was she so intimidated by these Hawkins housewives that she'd actively tried to avoid since moving here? What would happen if she actually fit in? Did she want to?

Her heart fluttered as she rang the doorbell at the biggest house in the fancy subdivision with the perfectly manicured lawns. A happy hostess gracefully ushered her inside. The house was full of smiling women with perfect make-up, looking like they'd just stepped out of the new Sears catalog. Mary felt a little underdressed and definitely under-permed, but the crowd was so warm and welcoming to the new girl in town, she quickly set aside her worries. What had she been so afraid of? Pleasant conversation and plastic kitchenware?

The party was fun. Everyone snacked on creative finger foods and drank wine and admired the brightly colored containers that brought them here. There were games, and prizes, and Mary even won a new piece for her collection.

And then, when the new product showcase ended and the ladies started placing their orders, Mary found herself sitting in a circle around the coffee table with a handful of women she'd grown almost comfortable with… and that's when she realized that she had, in fact, walked into a trap.

"Mary, why don't you join us for church this Sunday?" a permed and heavily perfumed woman named Laura asks. "I'll bet my Chrissy and your daughter would get along just great!"

Mary tries to smile politely, trying even harder not to imagine her daughter's response to being invited to church to hang out with a cheerleader. She's heard plenty about perfect little Chrissy Cunningham in the month since she'd been here, although she now realizes that her daughter has been purposely mispronouncing her last name. Before she can come up with an excuse, someone else speaks.

"Better act fast," a pastel pantsuit murmurs into her wine glass.

"Sue!" a tight perm hisses.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mary asks, not sure she really wants to know the answer.

Panic flashes through Pantsuit Sue's eyes.

"Please excuse Sue," the one called Ellen smiles patronizingly, carefully placing her wine glass on the coaster on the coffee table. "Her mouth runs faster than her brain. Got her into lots of trouble in high school, didn't it sweetie?"

Pantsuit Sue's face turns crimson.

Mary looks from face to face, wondering what the hell she's missing.

"Mary," Ellen says gently, "we're just a little concerned about the company your children keep."

Mary feels her hair stand on end.

"Now don't get upset, honey," Ellen continues, leaning forward. "You're new in town, and you don't know how things work here. But that's alright, because you have friends now. We're here to help you!"

"How so?" Mary asks, voice flat and body tense.

"Eddie Munson," says Connie, the neighbor who'd caught her at the mailbox and roped her into coming to this party. She shrinks when all eyes turn to her, but gathers her confidence and continues. "He's bad news, Mary. And he's at your house an awful lot. Even when you're not home. Do you really trust that boy alone with your daughter?"

"My son's there too," Mary points out. "And several more of their friends."

"Playing that devil music and getting into Heaven-knows-what," Laura supplies, lightly placing a hand to her chest. "Do you even know anything about that boy?"

"I know he's a good kid," Mary argues.

Does she, though? How much does she really know about Eddie Munson? That her kids like him? That he likes hard rock and pizza rolls? What could this boy have possibly done that's bad enough to have an intervention staged for her?

"My Jason says otherwise," Ellen says with raised eyebrows. "He's disruptive in class, always mouthing off and breaking rules. He has a permanent seat in detention."

"I heard he sells drugs," Sue whispers scandalously, summoning the other women to tighten the circle and share their own horror stories about Eddie Munson.

"Hasn't he failed like six times?"

"He's twenty-five! I don't understand why he's still allowed in school with children!"

"My sister was his kindergarten teacher, and she said she's never seen a filthier child in her life."

"What else would you expect from a child raised in a trailer park?"

"He never had any kind of raising at all, his druggie parents just turned him loose on the world."

"This is what happens when you don't discipline children."

"Oh, he had plenty of that. Don't you remember why his father finally got thrown in jail?"

"They should lock up all of the Munsons, as a public service."

"My husband is the manager at the power plant, and he says that the uncle is a hard worker. He might be alright."

"He's a drunk just like the rest of them, I've seen him coming out of the store with an obscene amount of beer tucked under his greasy arm."

"I've seen that boy drinking too, and smoking like a chimney!"

"I don't even want to imagine what their trailer must smell like."

"I heard that there are no cats in the trailer park, because the Munsons kill them and eat them!"

"Devil-worshippers use cat blood for rituals."

A hush falls over the circle, all eyes on the woman who spoke last.

"I read an article about Satanic cults!" she explains, face paling behind her large glasses.

"Why on Earth are you reading articles about Satanic cults?!"

"I want to know what's going on in the world!"

"Or even our own back yard!"

"I've written to the administration several times, but they refuse to disband that… that… demonic club he heads," Laura shudders. "I suppose it'll take a visit from Lucifer himself to make Principal Higgins take this threat seriously!"

"My Andy says it's a cult, not a club!"

"Imagine, allowing students to worship the devil on school grounds!"

"The man is either incompetent or a devil-worshipper himself, he let them perform their wicked music at the Battle of the Bands contest last year, too!"

"I remember that, it was so loud and scary it made my little one cry!"

"What's next, an instructional assembly on how to sell one's soul?"

"Horrifying, just horrifying."

"Ladies," Ellen says soothingly, bringing an abrupt end to the conversation. "Let's not get carried away." She turns her attention to Mary. "We're not trying to overwhelm or scare you, Mary. We just want you to be informed."

But Mary is overwhelmed. All this information at once, it's just too much. Why is everyone so terrified of Eddie Munson? Is he really in a Satanic cult? Is he dangerous? What's wrong with the Munsons? All of these well-dressed mothers couldn't be wrong, could they? They're just looking out for their kids, like she should be... right?

"Would you like another glass of wine, sweetie?" a woman whose name has been forgotten smiles sweetly. Mary shakes her head.

"I know this is hard to hear," Ellen says, patting Mary's hand. "But we want to help you. We're here for you, Mary."

Mary needs fresh air.

"I should go," she says, standing quickly and fumbling with her purse.

"Don't--" someone starts.

"It's alright," Ellen interrupts, standing and giving Mary a meaningful look. "Mary has a lot to think about, don't you Mary?"

Mary nods, finding herself unable to blink.

"Here are our telephone numbers," Ellen smiles, handing Mary a neatly printed sheet of stationery she'd seemingly conjured out of thin air. "We're here for you, Mary. All of us. You'll call us if you need anything at all, won't you dear?"

Mary nods, edging toward the door.

"Hope to see you in church on Sunday!" Laura calls.

Mary doesn't breathe until the car is in gear. She pauses at a stop sign three streets away and looks in her rearview mirror. Why does she feel like she's being followed? What the fuck just happened?!

She got ambushed by a cult of Stepfords, that's fucking what.

Her blood boils. They planned this. They all talked about her, and her kids, and Eddie, and got their heads together and planned to lure her to the rich side of town so they could frighten her into compliance.

And the kicker? Her dang kids were right.

She cracks the window for some air and presses the accelerator, replaying everything as best as she can on her way home.

She can't stop thinking about Eddie Munson. Is there a side of him she's never seen before? Is the politeness and the playfulness just an act? Is there a darkness inside him? Is it something that he was born with, as a Munson, or is there some truth in all that media panic about devil-worshippers? Is there more to that dragon game than just dice and imagination? Are her children in danger? Has her daughter been hoodwinked?

Hoodwinked? Mary rolls her eyes at herself. She's as bad as they are.

Her daughter is an unusually good judge of character. Mary had mentioned to her it once, meaning it as a compliment, and her firstborn had replied, "yeah, that's why I hate everyone."

Even as a baby, there were certain relatives she would not allow to hold her. It gave Mary great pleasure to know that there was something innately wrong with her mother, who couldn't hold the baby for more than a few seconds without an escape attempt and a round of squalling. The girl had always held everyone, except for her baby brother, at an arm's length.

Until Eddie Munson.

Mary had never tested the theory, but she suspected that if you tried pulling them away from each other, they'd snap back together like magnets. She'd never seen her daughter take to anyone like this. Her son, either. He tried to play it cool, but she remembers how excited he'd been when Eddie told him that he could join Corroded Coffin.

Which is not Satanic, by the way.

Mary sighs and pulls her car into the driveway beside the hulking van that belongs to Hawkins Public Enemy #1. She wishes she could ignore all of tonight's hysteria, but she can't help but wonder… there has to be a reason for all that panic, right? Surely a town full of grown women wouldn't feel this strongly about a child just because of his last name, or where he grew up, or a game or the music he plays?

Mary wants to bang her head against the steering wheel, but instead, she gets out of the car and walks inside.

Corroded Coffin is welcome to practice in her garage, but in order to keep the neighbors happy, they have to wrap it up by 5. It's well past cut-off time now, and Mary hears music and laughter coming from the living room.

She hangs her purse by the door and proceeds through the kitchen carefully, peeking around the corner and into the living room.

The kids have moved the coffee table to the center of the room, and are gathered around it playing Uno. They all sit on pillows on the floor. There are a few open drink cans on the table, and the room reeks of popcorn.

Her daughter grins wickedly and daintily places a card on the pile.

"Noooo!" Eddie wails, and the rest of the boys howl with laughter. "How could you?!"

Her daughter lifts both arms up in an exaggerated shrug, not a shred of remorse on her face. Eddie growls, launching himself forward and tackling her to the floor. Mary tenses.

But her daughter is still laughing.

He hovers above her, holding himself up by his hands on the floor, and leans down briefly to whisper something in her ear. Her daughter stops laughing and stares at him. Is he threatening her? Why aren't any of the other boys stepping in?!

Mary is half a second away from putting a stop to whatever this is, when her daughter makes a move.

She stretches upward from her place on the floor and kisses the tip of Eddie's nose.

He holds himself there for a second, and then his body just sort of��� collapses on her. She grunts at the sudden drop, then starts to laugh again. She wraps her arms around him. One hand goes in his hair. The other rubs his back.

She's petting him.

He's nuzzling his face into her neck.

The pearl-clutching house-wives of Hawkins staged an intervention over an overgrown puppy.

There is nothing wrong with Eddie Munson. He's a teenage boy, raised by a hard-working uncle who's doing his best. Who cares where they live, or why his parents aren't part of the picture, or if a grown man drinks beer in his own damn home? Judging a person for things they have no control over is one of the most ridiculous things a person can do. And they've had it out for this kid since kindergarten.

Mary is glad that her family had the chance to make room for Eddie in their lives before anyone tried to interfere, because from where she's standing, he fits in perfectly. This boy is sweet, he's respectful, and he's good to the people she loves most. And as long as he keeps that up, she will welcome him into her home with open arms.

Those old bats don't know that boy at all, and they don't deserve to.

"Are you losers gonna get back up here so we can play, or what?" Gareth demands, catching sight of Mary as he rolls his eyes. "Oh, hey Mom."

Eddie's body tenses, and he scrambles off of her daughter and returns to his seat with a red face. This? This blushing boy is the devil-worshipping monster that every mother in this town fears?

Her daughter grins at her from the floor, making no move to get up.

"The Stepfords didn't even give you a Welcome Perm?" she asks. "Rude."

Mary rolls her eyes. That's a story for another time. Or maybe never.

"I'm going to take a shower," she announces, needing to wash this awful evening right out of her hair. "Carry on, children."

It doesn't occur to Mary until the next day that she left behind the Tupperware prize she won.

She has no intention of going back to get it.

It wasn't her color anyway.

[wafflepatterns]

Meet new sewing pattern <Kanoko> Tote bag set

Meet the new item from Waffle Patterns Tote bag set <Kanoko> sewing pattern. This is a fun and functional tote bag 3 sisters set with many pockets. All sizes are perfect for daily use. Please make your favourite size with your favourite fabric. Those can be made with a relatively small amount of fabric, so, it is also nice to use your leftover fabrics from your stash.

<design options>

3 sizes are available; L - grocery size, M - commuter size, and S - accessory size. The grocery size is quite large and enough for supermarket or fabric shopping. The commuter size is suitable for daily use and the size for about 10″ iPad and other small things like a make-up pouch, wallet, or snacks. The accessory size is a very cute mini size for small staffs like a lip balm or candy.

L and M are basically the same design. Both have large 3D-shaped pockets on the front, side pockets with pleats, and a small pocket on the back. There are 2 kinds of functional inside pockets, too. There are 2 options for the opening. The L size sample shows magnet fastener + strap + side release buckle opening. The M sample features a zipper opening. You can add a shoulder strap on M size.

S size has also front/back and side pockets and a very small inside pocket. The closure is a magnet/snap fastener and an inside closure with tape+button.

<fabric recommendation>

The pattern is drafted for woven fabrics. Mid-heavy weight woven durable fabrics are suitable. like duck, twill, denim, linen, canvas or décor weight fabric etc. I think waxed fabrics or water repellent outdoor fabrics are great options, too. For the lining, plain cotton or linen will be a good option.

Depending on your fabric and your design intention, please consider using additional interfacing on the bag panels for adding extra strength or body.

Here are my sample’s materials.

The shell fabric of smoky pink samples is mixed twill. I wanted to add body on M size, so I used woven mid weight interfacing on bag panels. For L size, I only use interfacing on the facing parts to keep it light weight. I also made a sample of M size with mid weight denim + fusible fleece combo for stable shape.

The red and yellow plaid set are made with wool coating. Those are all leftover of my winter projects. I used woven interfacing on the panels on the M size. The lining is plain cotton.

Again, please consider the material combination depending on your fabric and design intention.

<other materials>

The samples are using 30mm~40mm webbing for the handles and straps. If you cannot find perfect colour or width, making those with contrast fabrics are the option.

I used the shoulder strap from ready made bags, but you can make them by yourself, too.

For additional strength, I added the plastic plates on the base of M and S size. The special materials for the bag base are sold at notion stores, but I used plastic plate cutting from old clear files and ice cream package.

Please choose suitable materials/parts for your design and shell fabrics. I strongly recommend checking actual material samples as much as possible and experimenting your fabrics before start the project.

<other>

For smoky pink samples, I used twill tape on the pocket opening of side and back pockets for strengthen and as a design accent. It is also good option if your fabric is too stiff or thick.

********************* The sewing pattern includes 17 pages of instructions and all the sewing processes are described with detailed illustrations. The pattern files are available for both home printers (A4 or US letter) and copyshop(A0/A1 format).

You can check other photos of this model on my Flickr page.

The Tote bag set -Kanoko- (3 sizes) PDF sewing pattern is available here. Also in the Etsy shop.

Special discount price until 13th June 2023 (CEST) with other popular patterns. No discount code is needed! The sale page is here.

*****  Special offer +17.5EUR for Paper pattern and free shipping Paper pattern + PDF option is available with plus 17.5EUR. *The paper includes only the pattern, please print out the instructions by yourself or read it with your tablet or PC.  The PDF + Paper listing page is here.

Enjoy your sewing!

(Japanese post here 日本語ポストはこちら).

**********************

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[brisquad-unit-4402]

rare matchup trade with @mysteriawrites

for one of my very cute friends. i was in a major writing slump over the summer but she encouraged me to get out of my slump by offering a matchup trade! this is my first matchup for someone and very overdue on my part so i'm excited wehe

☆ and even though it’s a matchup i tried to write a full fic with her in mind, but applicable to anyone. especially because this is a whole entire fic with 5,905 words.

mysteria sent me a super detailed description in our dms so here's a summary of it:

mysteria is 5'2, african american, a capricorn and an infj! she's kind, responsible, moody, soft-spoken, and introverted. she also describes herself as a social chameleon that can match the energy of a room, from quiet and clumsy to sassy and teasing if she's comfortable enough. she likes animals, books, reading and writing, personality quizzes, rpg/mmo/rhythm games, and sweets. however, she dislikes loud sounds, math, trypophobia, spiders, and inconsiderate people. she also dislikes when people she cares about don't properly take care of themselves, but tends to forget her own needs. she's really a caring person at heart!

your matchup is under the cut for the drama! i match you with...!

Mischievous but observant, the Phantom Thief Alban Knox!

tags: gender neutral reader, getting together, hurt/comfort, reader is an overworker, bad work environment, happy ending, breaking and entering (and other thief-typical crimes lol)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

There's this little convenience store right in your neighborhood that happens to be on your daily commute to work.

The first time you visit, you realize it's about five minutes away from your home and open 24/7, perfect for late-night snack runs.

The staff is so small, the same guy works the graveyard shift whenever you visit: tousled mocha-brown hair, a lanky body too thin for his uniform shirt, and two differently colored eyes. One is dark, while the other is so vividly green it makes him look intelligent.

It doesn't take long before he starts to memorize your usual order, and for you to memorize the Hi, my name is Alban! name tag over his apron.

With time the friendly customer service starts to become just actual friend behavior. You begin to learn more about one another. He asks you about your day, and when you mention some of your coworkers at your dime-a-dozen tech job he's able to remember who's who.

Meanwhile you've seen the two bowls outside the sliding doors, one full of water and the other kibble. Alban leaves them out for the neighborhood cats, and you've been lucky enough to meet a few of them before they scamper away.

Alban is like a brother to the strays, however, and the konbini tends to be empty whenever you visit, so there's no one to stop him when the cats paw at his leg, begging him to pick them up as you rant about your latest project. They even let you pet them once or twice before they climb over Alban's shoulders, watching you with nighttime pupils. Apparently that's rare. The first time a stray nuzzles your palm, Alban secretly slides you an extra pack of the snack cakes you wanted.

"If she trusts you, then you can keep a secret," he says. The cat's tail curls around his wrist before he nonchalantly drop the cake into your bag. "Our secret, right?"

Over time it becomes a part of your routine. Work during the day, visit the konbini, relax after a good conversation with Alban. Once your company picks up a new security project, your schedule slowly folds over. With Alban's late-night shifts and you working longer hours after getting a lead position, he becomes one of the few consistencies in a hectic career.

You really do treasure the time you spend with him. Now that so much is going on at work it's like his store is the only place you can unwind before you get back to programming at home.

Not to mention he's one of the few night owls you know, and the only one that was there for you when you felt like you were falling apart.

It's not like you wanted to let your defenses down, though. You'd been working tirelessly for weeks on this security system, but today your clients blew a fuse over things out of your control. All this effort, and the way they reacted made you feel like it was for nothing.

"Welcome!" Alban's standard customer service voice disappears once he recognizes your face. "Hey, it's my favorite—woah, wait. Are you okay?"

It stuns you how quickly he picked up on your mood. The second you left work, you spent ten minutes trying to wipe the ‘on the verge of tears’ look off your face.

"Don't worry, Alban, I'm fine." You try to smile. "Just a busy day at work. What're the daily specials today?"

"Oh! Uh..."

It's pretty obvious that wasn't a convincing excuse, but he lists off the menu anyways. You appreciate that he knows how to give you space.

You decide halfway through that you'd rather get your usual, though, too exhausted to think of trying anything new. "And a donut," you add, longing for a comfort food.

While Alban gets started on your food, the aisles of bright, prepackaged snacks feels like staring at a headache. Itching for relief, you stare outside the windows instead. A grayed tail swishes along the glass outside while two nighttime pupils stare right back at you.

The air prods at your skin as the sliding doors open, and you approach the cat. You recognize her as one of the first to warm up to you when you started to visit. She continues to watch you, even as you reach a hand out. Her tail rises like smoke.

The stray's eyes squint up into crescents as you scratch under her chin. "A meal and affection for free," you muse. You're trying to not be bitter, especially since this one is skittish, but you can’t help but feel envious. "Must be nice being a cat instead of a human."

The brisk nighttime air stills. This calm makes everything feel like it’s falling out of your grasp, but you don’t have a choice in the matter. You're a resigned observer to your own life.

"I just don't know what to do," you say. Your job pays well, but you’re so sick of being treated like this, especially after such a bad meeting with your client.

The stray nestles up closer to your hand, nudging the touch closer to her body so you can stroke her back. Not a moment later, she backs away. With powerful legs and silent breaths, she pounces down from the ledge, while the smoke trails into the shadowy brush on the other side of the parking lot.

So you lean back against the wall. Cold brick outlines your back. Damn. Not even the strays are cooperating with your shitty day.

By the time you return to the inside of the konbini, your nose is reddened from the chill. The overhead lights wash the color out of your face, so bright that the night outside seems jarring.

At least you can smell your food. Alban returns to the counter with a paper bag that feels warm to the touch, and a to-go box full of donuts.

You cock your head. “I only ordered one donut, didn’t I?”

“Yep.” He seals the box with a sticker. It’s a cute cat with the same mismatched eyes as him and ‘Freshness Guaranteed!’ underneath its paw.

“So why…?”

“Because I want to give you some. It’s nice to get freebies, especially when it’s for a friend that could use ‘em,” he says. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ask, but you’re not doing so hot, are you? If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know. I’d be happy to. Help you, I mean.”

He slides the bag of food and the donut box to your side of the counter. “But for now, you just keep those and take a moment to yourself.”

A steady aroma follows the bag while the donut box is warm under your fingers, freshly baked and at no extra charge, simply just because. One green eye and one dark stares up at you from the sticker, blending into the white fur as your vision blurs.

"Alban."

"Yeah, what's—?"

Alban’s question falters. Instead you speak, with one hand up at your eyes, glossy and turning wetter by the second. “Thanks.”

It seems the mask has fallen now. You hunch over as you sniffle. Hot shame seeps down your back like burning oil, the tears feeling more and more like they’re boiling. It only makes you more embarrassed and frustrated, which causes even more heat behind your eyes, and the cycle continues. Now here you are, crying in the cold light of a konbini while the poor cashier has no way out. You don’t even have the heart to look up at Alban’s face.

“Sorry,” you say. Your voice sticks together. “I-I shouldn’t be like this.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m acting like a big baby, and I’m fine, I’m just—just making it weird, a-and you don’t even want to know.”

“But I do!”

Even though you don’t have the strength to raise your head, you can see Alban’s hands through mottled vision; namely, how they clutch at the counter—right before he sets them both over yours. You’ve never seen him without a pair of food-safe gloves, and these are no different, a solid black that sticks to your skin while fingers rest on your knuckles.

At his outburst, you dare to look up. His eyes are closed, mouth set in a crinkled frown, barely pursed as if he wants to say something. Alban reconsiders just as he opens it. Hesitation crawls into lowered brows, and your heart pangs even harder when he looks down at the hands. Either you’re seeing things, or there’s a bittersweet look in one eye and concern in the other. “If you trust me, then I want to know.

“Because you’re not ‘fine’. If you really were then you wouldn’t be crying at someone doing one tiny nice thing,” he blurts. “Did someone hurt you? Because if they did, I’ll give them a piece of my mind, no questions asked.”

“It’s… not a someone.”

That gets him to squeeze your palm. A wave of understanding bleeds through and travels up your veins. “I’m all ears.”

You squeeze back, eyelids smashing together as another fat tear rolls down your cheek. “It’s my jobbb.”

You aren’t exactly proud of how you weep, but the way Alban listens to you erases the regret. You spill your guts about the client, the meeting, the mismanagement, and that stupid security system you’ve been working on. Halfway through, Alban flips the ‘OPEN’ sign to ‘CLOSED’, thumbs off his gloves, and sits next to you properly.

By now his touch returns, resting fingertips on your knuckles and rubbing up your wrist. Without the gloves, he’s warmer than ever, and softer. He passes you a box of tissues from the office, too, and doesn’t even flinch when you honk into the tissues in-between sobs.

You explain everything, even the tiny stresses in your career. “I’m lost. It pays so much but I’m so exhausted,” you say. “I don’t want to leave but sometimes I just wish I could, I don’t know, transfer to a different location, or give the client to someone else, or hell, some kind of payback.

“But I’d not that kind of person. And even if I was…” Your eyes cast downward. The tears have slowed but they’re still so wet with misery. “I’m so tired.”

Your heart aches just at saying it. The realization has set in now. You’re tired.

That’s putting it mildly. You never noticed until now, but there’s an indescribable weight in your neck and shoulders, just about ready to snap you in two under the pressure. You used to love this job, and you still love what you do, but only now are you realizing you’ve put far more into it than your superiors deserve.

“That’s fucked,” Alban finally says, and you almost snort at how plainly he says it. Instead it comes out as a weak chuckle.

“Can’t your boss put two and two together and realize you’re already giving one hundred percent—no, two hundred into the project?” He asks, even though you both know the answer. “That’s stupid. There’s a whole staff of people, so they need to get their head out of their ass and give you a break.”

“I wish.” You sniffle. “I’m just a generic worker, but I’m the only one that knows exactly how everything operates. Makes me feel like I can't even rest.”

“Do you have any time off?”

“Well, yeah.”

“So take it. You need it,” Alban says. Then he playfully nudges you. “You know you deserve to treat yourself.”

That gets another chuckle out of you, louder than the last. He smiles softly and points out, “You’re laughing more.”

“You say things so simply that, I dunno, it makes things feel less difficult. Like when I think about it, it’s like this swirling black hole.” You exhale. “I was thinking about taking time off, earlier, but I told myself to tough it out instead of giving up. But now it doesn’t feel as extreme.”

“It’s not giving up. It’s resting. That’s a requirement.”

“Yeah. It just… doesn’t feel like it when I’m talking about me.”

“Then let me be the first to remind you that you’re allowed to relax just like the rest of us.”

You wipe your eyes again, this time with a tissue while Alban rubs your back. You’ve known that for as long as you can remember, but hearing Alban say it out loud is the beginnings of understanding. Internalizing that need.

You sniff, but rather than with hopelessness, a different feeling swells in your throat. Something like recognition, warm and loose rather than tight.

“Thanks,” you say. “For the food. And, you know, all this…”

The words get lost along the way, so you settle with a gentle tilt of your head to gesture.

Alban seems to get it without much trouble, though, and pats your back reassuringly. “It’s nothing.”

“I’d argue otherwise. I must have been a nuisance—“

“It's nothing,” he repeats. “No problem at all. If you ever walk in here crying again I’d do anything to make you feel better, you know.”

“Oh.” That makes you look away, almost scared of the fact. This type of caring is unfamiliar, and now that you’re all cried out, you can’t make heads or tails of the feeling. “That’s really sweet, I think.”

Alban lifts his hand off your body. The absence picks you up and out of your thoughts, so you raise your head. You watch as it rests back on his neck, right underneath his tousled brown hair. “Don’t mention it. Uh, how do you get home?”

“I usually walk.”

“Not that I don’t trust you, but you’re not about to walk home by yourself after crying your eyes out. I’ll drive you.”

Your eyes widen. “No, you don’t have to! I don’t want to be a bother!”

“Hey, I’m offering. No one visits at this time of night anyway, except for you.”

“Yeah, but it feels like I’m being a burden or something, and I don't want to cause more trouble for you than I already have, and—oh, forget it.” You bury your face in your hands. Your cheeks are still tempered from crying earlier, but now you can feel the unmistakable heat of embarrassment as well. “You’re not going to let this up, are you?”

He says, “Only if you’re sure you’ll get home safe. It’s late.”

“Fine, you can drive.” You pat at your face with the tissue. Your tears have long since dried, but maybe this will hide the blush. “I can’t say thank you enough.”

Alban shrugs that praise off as well, so intent on refusing your gratitude that it comes across as either sheepish or blasé. He busies himself with locking up the store while you clean yourself up (again) in the bathroom. He opens the car door for you before you can open it yourself.

The stick shift is a few years behind, but the console is rigged up to connect to Alban's phone. Before he starts driving, he hands it to you. "You can choose the music."

You thumb through a streaming service before finding a title your recognize from one of your own playlists, and at the first few notes of the song, the car enters motion. It's a quiet, comfortable silence filled up by the song and your directions to your home.

The walk to the konbini is fast, but driving is even faster, and the song barely ends as he pulls up to your home. "You got everything?" He asks.

You nod. "I do. Thanks, Alban."

"It's noth—"

"Oh, quit playing yourself down already." Before you can slip out of your seat, you lay a hand over Alban's as it rests on the stick shift, just like how he comforted you earlier. "No one at work took time out of their day to hear me out, not even my friends. You did. That means something."

"Still!" Alban says. "I wouldn't just ignore you."

"A lot of people would, and did. You're a lot better than you give yourself credit for." You poke his cheek. "Now repeat after me: you're welcome."

The poke makes his face squish up, cheek smushing into the corner of his lips while one eye closes. He blinks, uncertain, as if he entered uncharted territory. He likely has. If it wasn't apparent before, it certainly was by how long it took him to avert his eyes and say the words. “…You’re welcome.”

You squish his cheeks a little more as friendly affection. Barely visible under the overhead light, his face tints pink under the pressure of your hands. “Glad to hear it. I’ll see you later, Alban.”

“Right. Rest well?”

“I will.”

The door shuts and the headlights shine long shadows behind you as you walk away. Alban watches as you pull out your keys. You notice the shining lights only dim out after you’ve stepped inside your humble abode, and the warm feeling rises up again. He made sure you were inside safe and sound before he drove away.

It’s with that warm feeling that you speed through your nighttime routine and fall asleep in your bed.

It returns each time you visit the konbini after that night, too. Alban, in all his selflessness, still insists on giving you even more freebies than you know what to do with.

“Damn, Reader, if you visit even more often, I’ll have to order extra shipments of candies,” he quips as he scans your items—then snatches a king-size snack and slips it into your bag without charging you a cent more.

You snicker. “It’s not like I ask. You’re the one that won’t quit giving me things for free.”

“I’ve got more than enough to go around.”

“But you just said you’d have to order more.”

“How’s work? Still doing the security thing?” He asks.

You roll your eyes to the ceiling and huff not a second later. “Yep, same old, same old. One of my coworkers used the wrong parts on something, so I had to spend my entire shift today disassembling and reassembling it myself.”

"You know what I'm going to say—"

"That it's unfair and stupid?"

"—Among other things, but you're just going to say the pay is too good to leave, aren't you," he finishes.

You focus on the counter rather than Alban's movements. It's been a while since that night he drove you home and the wound has healed, but there's no mistaking the beginnings of a scar at the memory, all puffy-pink as it tries to recover to what once was.

You hate to admit it, but he's right. He quoted something you said word-for-word last week.

"I'm not just predictable, I'm mad," you say. "And tired of being mad."

"Not at anything new, is it?"

You sigh. "Nope. It's more like a lot of little things building up and just whittling me down. Same ol' soul-crushing machine as always."

The cash register dings as Alban places all your items into the bag, and you pay for half of what you should. "There isn't anything keeping you happy or loyal, is there?"

"Not really. It's all miserable, even the other departments." You even laugh bitterly. "I guess the employees get paid so much because there's no budget going into decent HR."

"You know what I'm going to say."

"Don't waste your breath."

"I can't tell you what to do."

"Gotta pay my bills somehow." The receipt inches out. Alban tears it off and slips it into the bag. "I'm looking, but I can't just quit yet. At this point, I don't care what happens to the place, as long as I get paid. Need to finish the security system before moving onto another job."

"I hope someone gives you a better offer soon. Workplace culture included."

"Me too." He offers the bag to you. You take the handles from Alban with crinkles and a skim along his fingertips. "At least I've got nothing planned tonight but binging a TV show over snacks." You jostle the bag, and the many candies inside. "In no small part because of you."

He beams at that, just before wiring his mouth into a thin smile to cover up his happiness. "We're always open! And I'm always here."

"I'm counting on it." That happiness spreads to you like watercolor on paper. "I'll come back soon, Alban."

He sees you off with the good cheer and well-wishes you've come to expect from Alban, and a request to keep out of trouble. Once the crisp white of the konbini's lights fade away into the night as you walk home, the dismal feeling returns.

Maybe you should take his advice and quit while you're ahead. It's no secret this job will kill you one day.

You bite back the thought as soon as it comes to mind. You need the cash. Quitting is tempting, but if you leave now, you won't have enough savings to fall back on.

"Until this commission is over," you mutter under your breath. You'll put in the two-week notice then, once the security project is complete, and that stuck-up client coughs up the high price for all your effort.

Until then, until then, until then. Your mind echoes as you go down the familiar path home, staving off the urge to think any more on it. All that's left for you to do today is watch some shows, relax, and hopefully, get a good night's rest before doing the same thing again tomorrow.

Even though the night in serves as a good distraction, you remember the grind ahead as you tuck yourself into bed, and with it, Alban's wishes for your happiness pushes the harsh thoughts away as you drift off.

As you'd expect, the days ahead are predictably mundane, save for the awful work environment you've become so used to over time. Some days it feels like you're the only competent person in the building. Other days you know it's true.

Which brings you to now. The coworker that sits closest to you left to go file some papers in another office—or take a personal call for the next twenty minutes, it's always a toss up with them—leaving you to your own devices as you work on something that should've been completed earlier this week. Again.

The office you're currently in is built for three at most, though it rarely fits that many. Usually you're by yourself or with another coworker, and now that you're alone, you have the freedom to sigh. You know how these things work, but having to pick up so much slack is just plain exhausting.

The lights go out.

The first thing you think is if the latest updates were saved. Your brain reminds you that the program was on autosave every minute, and you haven't typed in five. It'll be fine.

The next thing is that considering your industry, there's more than a few backup generators. There's no way it would take this long for one of them to kick in and get power back to the building.

Something's wrong. You don't have a clue, but outside your office windows, you can catch glimpses of other workers evacuating. There's no way it could be a natural disaster, and you doubt a fire would cut the lights, but considering how fast the other workers clear out, you aren't staying to find out.

You're one of the last people to leave a personal office, and you presume the last to start moving. The halls twist in the darkness, but you've memorized the layout, and your phone's flashlight guides the way.

The sound of keys on keys jingle behind you. You pivot with a start "Who's there?"

No one responds. Your light reaches a few feet ahead before being swallowed by the darkness. The ceiling boasts some LEDs for detectors, cameras, and the far-off 'EXIT' sign but not much else, and none of them are helpful at the moment.

Something else whooshes ahead, and you turn again, now starting to feel like a fish being circled by a shark.

"This isn't funny," you call out. That was stupid of you. Maybe the job is rotting your brain, and it'll be the reason behind your death, trapped in your shitty office while everyone else evacuates.

With steeled nerves you keep walking, twisting your phone around to get a piece-by-piece view of the hallways. The light bounces off the waxy leaves of a houseplant by a door. The water cooler where you refill your water bottle. Two pointed strikes of orange that shine one-at-a-time as the light flashes.

Cloth covers your mouth before you can scream.

They wire around as the orange comes into focus, now identifiable as two pins in a head full of shaggy hair. The intruder rests a finger on his lips as he shushes you, one green eye and one dark reflecting the light from your phone.

You manage to shake off his grip and hiss. "Alban?"

He blinks before widening his mismatched eyes. "Wh-what are you talking about? I don't know anyone named Alban."

"Oh, cut the crap, you—" You start, but remember the LED lights up on the ceiling. The cameras! You tug on his jacket sleeve as you dive into a corridor hidden from the security cameras, and luckily, he's shocked enough to stumble along. He slips out of your grasp in a matter of seconds, but instead climbs along the walls and hops between structures to obscure himself like a superhero out of a movie.

You push yourself flat against a wall as if it would hide you any further, while Alban clings onto the ceiling and inches down, dangling in midair. A strap is attached to the roof and around his body not unlike climbing gear.

"I'd recognize you anywhere," you say, "and if I didn't before then I definitely did the second you started talking."

Alban looks away. "Oh. Right. I should've expected that."

"Never mind that, what are you doing here? I work here!" You push him lightly, and he sways in air from the force. "Don't tell me you're behind the power outage."

He scratches the back of his head and gives you a coy smile, only half-apologetic, until you push him more. He flails before steadying himself by holding onto your shoulders. "Wait, I had a reason!"

"Uh-huh, and you're going to tell me it right now before I call the cops!"

"Psh, they couldn't catch me even if they tried—" Shove. Alban swivels around aimlessly. "Okay, okay, fine! I'm a phantom thief."

You grab him and glare. "So you decided to target my workplace after hearing me complain about it for eons. Give me one good reason not to twist you so hard we test if motion sickness can result in death."

"I mean, not entirely off?" He says with a sigh. "Okay, hear me out. The konbini isn't exactly a moneymaker. So I steal things here and there, but only from people who don't deserve it. You know, the types that steal their assets, treat everyone like dirt, exploit hard-working, good people... You see where I'm going with this, right?"

"Go on."

"I like to take only a little bit of it for myself, then forward whatever else I find to the original owners, or community projects that would use the cash way better than some hoarder. Which is why I decided to come here. It has an awful rep despite its net worth, and I dunno, it just seems like it sucks more and more of your soul out the longer you work here." Alban frowns. Even upside-down in the air, his concern is heartfelt, as genuine as that day you confided in him.

You can't even say he's wrong, not entirely. He really did listen to all your woes.

"So... I did some research. Didn't like what I saw. I don't think it's news to you, either."

"It's not great, no." You cross your arms. "So you decided to steal from them."

Alban pats down his pockets. Each of them has a hidden zipper, you realize, which must explain how he hasn't dropped any of his loot until he produces it and shows it to you. One by one, he hands you small boxes covered in secure foam. Your eyes widen as you open them. Each is a different minuscule computer part. "You recognize these."

"How could I not? These are upcoming designs. Not entirely complete, but once they are, they'll be gold standard. Maybe even more."

"Exactly. I did some rifling around in the offices, too. They'll be sold at an insane markup from the true estimated value once they're released to the public." Alban bites the inside of his cheek. "Most of the information and programming has been ripped off from programmers that either didn't consent or were severely underpaid."

"You're telling me. And the employees here will be earning pennies once it goes public."

He nods, serious as the grave. You've never seen him this dead-set on something but you recognize the blazing ambition in his eyes, and the curve over his mouth that forms when he's dedicated. He set his hand over the boxes you hold. "If you really want to return them, I won't stop you. I just want to do the right thing."

The packages aren't much bigger than jewelry boxes, and just as light, but holding them feels like handling priceless masterpieces. After all, they are.

"Why?" You ask.

"Because I trust you."

"Even after I spun you around like a piñata."

"It takes more than that to knock me out," Alban says. "Besides, even if you did, I wouldn't regret it. I think I'd endure a lifetime's worth of it if that's what it took for you to know how much I care."

You readjust your grip on the parts as Alban turns his head away again. "That sounded wrong. I mean, you work for them, not me. If this feels wrong, then you can call it off and I'll leave without anything."

He cares for me. You squeeze your lips together in deep thought. "You think so highly of me, even though I'm just a wreck that has a shitty 9 to 5 and mooches off your konbini food."

"Not a wreck," he corrects, voice tilted high in protest. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"You're such a handful." You present the boxes out and away from you. "Put them back in your pockets. There's the camera outside that I pulled you away from, and a few others in each corner of this floor."

Dumbfounded, Alban gingerly takes them just as you start doodling on a piece of paper. "You're just giving them back to me?"

"What does it look like I'm doing? There's only so much time before any authorities show up." You wait until Alban secures the parts away before pressing the paper flush against his upside-down chest while you stand at eye-level with him. "Not my best blueprint, but you can figure out the best route to sneak out from with that map I just drew up."

Alban stays still in the air, but you let go of the map as it rests under the collar of his jacket. He fumbles for the paper, narrowly avoiding any stray hits to your body due to the proximity.

While he's occupied, your eyes have finally adjusted to the darkness as well as how close you are to him. He doesn't notice you staring at all, nor how his cheeks are a rosier tone than the rest of his skin.

He manages to nab the paper and holds it back over his heart, where you pressed it. When he makes eye contact with you, you see to his core; both the smarmy phantom thief that infiltrated your office, and the understanding, generous dork that works nights at the konbini.

Your hand brushes with his as you take the cloth of his jacket collar. "It didn't sound wrong at all." In the dark, he tenses, gloved hands clutching the paper tighter while that blush grows into a muted red.

You drum up the courage he's shown you time and time again as you lean in. The momentum fuels you as he reciprocates, paper forgotten as it flutters to the floor in favor of holding you tighter as his lips brush along yours.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

bonus.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You let go of Alban's collar, all lightheaded and woozy after a long-awaited kiss. It breaks off, but his arms are still tangled around your back in a loose hug. The dopey grin on his face is full of emotion; surprise, adoration, and a shred of greed like that wasn't enough for him.

"You need to get back to business," you say, breathless.

"Uh-huh?"

"And I should go before people think I went missing."

"Oh, duh. Yeah. Yeah, you should." Alban shakes his head to jostle him out of his stupor. He raises one limb after another as the cord retracts. "I'll be—ack!"

He flops face-down to the ground with a yelp. Then a groan.

You flinch. "Alban! Are you okay?"

"Ughhh."

Expecting the worst, you crouch down and hold his arm as he rises. "Ow, that hurt... No damage done, though."

"If you say so." You dust off his shoulders as he recovers. Sure enough, there aren't any scratches nor bruises immediately forming, and the concern turns into amusement as he presses his lips together. "Alban, your face is so red."

"Wh—no, it's not."

You pinch his cheeks. His brows are drawn together, all shy and flustered. "Oh, I can't wait to see what this looks like in daylight."

"It's just because I was hanging upside-down! Blood rushes to your head!"

"Yup, right after falling flat on your face."

He wiggles out of your grasp and up on his feet in no time. "You're teasing me and I won't stand for it. Bye!"

And with that, he bolts out of the room, grappling off the walls like a parkour artist until he becomes one with the darkness.

You watch him until he disappears, but you've got places to be, too. You rifle into your pocket where your phone and wallet rest.

That is, until you realize your wallet is nowhere to be found.

You frantically search your pockets until you realize the first one you checked, the one your wallet rested in, had a card inside that wasn't there before.

It's one of the generic business cards your company provides, likely lifted from another worker's office, but along the blank white cardstock, someone had drawn a cat paw alongside a note.

"You just got mugged by the robber! (But visit tonight to get it back.)"

There's a scrawl in the corner, scratched out to the point you can't tell what it was, but a few lines against the scribble makes you think the writer doodled something.

You'll have to ask him later.

"Tonight," you say out loud. It's been a long day, and like you said, you need to get back to the rest of the employees.

But after that, the workday is sure to be cut short as the higher-ups manage the police, and now you have plans.

And you could do without a 9 to 5 looming over you for a while.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊mysteriawrites

✧. ┊ masterpost ✧. ┊ kofi

[worryingthing]

I got a 9 to 5 (well, 8 to 6 with commute) and I've been struggling with the overall change. It's hard to stay positive in this current climate, and I feel like I am going insane every time I glance at social media or the news. But I guess having a gig means I'm busy, or at least occupied, which is helpful as much as I resent it. Life in Queens is great but everything does still feel a little foreign and far off. The weather being so dramatic has not helped either, I am very unhappy about having to pull out my tights and sift through which pairs have holes or can still be worn (70% had holes and Uniqlo stopped making their heat tech tights in Navy - guess I'll die, etc).

Anyway, I can feel my spirit being worn down by office lighting, small talk, k cups, how absolutely shitty the R train is, and people having speakerphone conversations on the bus and train at 8 a.m. All of it. So I wanted to return to a practice of gratitude to remind me to maybe stave off a little despair. I was really enjoying my tarot pulls when my life had a lot more uncertainty (does he like me? turns out, yes!! Will I ever get a job? Yeah, but now it's my whole life and I am always tired) Anyway in an act of anger at me for being gone from my home for most of the day now, Leelou (one of my cats) threw up on my tarot deck! A card or two is worse for the wear and I haven't decided if I am going to replace it or try to keep working with it just yet.

anyway!

I found a good smash burger in the neighborhood!! Petey's. It's perfect. The relief I feel at having discovered this is immense.

also food (I'm a Taurus?!) but I went to King of Falafel after hopping off the 30th ave stop. Sam had pointed it out to me when we walked to the train and it had a 15-minute wait so we walked a little further and he pointed out some things I hadn't seen since I live off a different stop. The falafel was probably the best I've ever had and it was beautiful to stand in a Palestinian restaurant so proud of its heritage. There was a wait for pita so I waited and was rewarded with a bonus piece, which was so warm and fluffy and heavenly to tear into on my walk back home. I will definitely be going back.

Access Oasis Garden, which my friend Kate founded. Right now we're focused on showing the Parks department and community that we're committed as a group so on Saturday I got to be a part of some bulb planting. To put something in the ground as a gift for future enjoyment is so rewarding, and signifies a deep hope, I feel. I am so astounded by how quickly things have moved and I can't wait to see it grow further. I also got to make some new friends, who ended up coming to the soup event at the beer hall after the planting was done. It was a really beautiful day of community!

Good hugs from friends! getting to share in the joy of a friend's good news.

Sam, who is so understanding and gentle and thoughtful. I'm still like, wait what, is this real? It turns out I am all about clear communication and intent! It's great!

Becoming emboldened re: work snacks, speaking of it is almost time for me to sneak some hummus at my desk. Sometimes on my lunch, I browse the dollar store candy section just to amuse myself, which is how I ended up with a desk drawer full of tootsie rolls.

Radio.Garden. I do sometimes browse the map endlessly, and I love to visit the station websites! I have found a few stations that originated as in-hospital or nursing home stations but graduated to internet broadcasts. Many stations I stumble upon are community-founded, which I love to see because I find the idea of radio of course extremely romantic, but also hopeful. It is also a perfect tool if you're not sure what you want to listen to - which happens to me a lot as someone who experiences intense decision paralysis. There's a station on the west coast of France that plays classical before lunch and jazz after. I began my work morning with AshiyaRadio, a Japanese jazz station.

for some reason, my rosacea goes nuts at work (I turn pink when dehydrated) but I bought this mini Tower 28 rescue spray and it seems to help a little, plus I like how refreshing it feels. Let me just anoint my visage real quick in this office hell space, etc

Tears of the Kingdom - which is soooo immense it's overwhelming but I have been enjoying dropping in and trying to further along my journey with various side quests. It's a perfect game to just meander around in, every last detail is stunning. I should remind myself I can take my switch on my work commute!!

Seemingly breezing through a lot of big changes with minimal anxiety?? I have been complaining a lot about how exhausted I've been but it's my fourth week and I had to learn/memorize A LOT the first two, so now it's slightly more routine and less overwhelming. I had one crying meltdown during the height of my period and missed a group of friends out, but I am pretty sure I needed that cry and it was unavoidable.

I know what's for dinner (the relief!): the half package of pumpkin ravioli I splurged on from the store and half a head of broccoli. I finish both in sage brown butter, toasted breadcrumbs, parmesan, and lemon. Still have to figure out a work lunch, though ):

Sometimes it's really hard to tell if these sorts of things are even worth posting or just too navel-gazy, but I stuck with it and I'm posting and my outlook on life does feel improved, surprisingly. I'm also not in talk therapy because how can that even happen with my new schedule? So writing it out it is.

[snorky]

Cupid's Chokehold

Hey y’all! Derek Forbort is someone I’ve always found interesting, he’s just a simple fella it seems and my brain enjoys that fact. Darla, my sweet baby Darla, is a main star in this fluffy fic, and so I hope you all enjoy it! This fic can either be read as platonic or romantic and the title is inspired by the song "Cupid's Chokehold/Breakfast in America" by Gym Class Heroes. Once again, I hope you enjoy this fic and take care of yourself!

Pairing: Derek Forbort x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: None

—

—

The Massachusetts autumn wasn’t too harsh, surprisingly, with only a couple of rain showers here and there, and nothing more. Leaves on trees were a vibrant mix of golds and oranges and reds, scattered in the air and on the pavement. It was truly, a beautiful day to have a simple walk around the Boston Common.

Grabbing their bag with their book, snacks, and water, they walked from their quaint apartment to the Common, as it was only a few minutes’ commute. The leaves crunched beneath their feet as they walked, the traffic bustling on the road beside them with a typical symphony of car horns and an occasional profanity.

They shivered slightly as the wind blew past them, thanking themselves for bringing a heavier jacket, considering how much colder the breeze seemed that day. Nonetheless, it was still a nice day with the sun peeking out through the clouds.

Shortly after, they arrived at the Common, a little less crowded than it would be in the summer, which seemed perfect for them. Families walked around, enjoying the sights, joggers and runners getting in their early dose of exercise, and seniors taking in life, enjoying the beauty in everything.

They sat down underneath a tree, getting comfortable leaning against it, and grabbed their book from their bag. Opening the book, they started reading it, getting lost in the words and stories within. The outside world seemed loud and relentless, and so to have a simple break through a book was more than enough for them.

Unbothered and relaxed, it was automatic for them to seemingly endlessly flip through the pages, immersing themselves in a new world. That was until, a dog came running up beside them, barking playfully and jumping in their lap.

“Oh—” They set their book down beside them and looked at the dog again. “Hi there bud, where are you supposed to be?” Looking at the dog’s collar, it read “Darla” in a sweet font. “Darla? What a cute name you’ve got,” they chuckled softly. The dog looked up at her and wagged its tail, an almost smile it seemed on its face.

A man came running in their direction, holding a leash that seemed to be broken. “I’m so sorry,” he said breathlessly. He looked slightly tired, a weary expression on his face. The dog leaped into the arms of the man, getting cozy. “Darla, what are you doing girl?” He scratched the top of her head.

“It’s alright, she wasn’t bothering me.” They smiled. “Darla is so precious,” they added.

The man looked at them and smiled, “She is.” Darla seemed to snuggle deeper into his arms, trying to find warmth as another cool breeze brushed by. “I think I should head back home now,” he sighed. “Poor Darla is getting cold.”

They nodded their head in agreement, “Hope Darla gets nice and warm once she gets home.”

“She will,” he chuckled. Standing there, he wondered if he should tell them his name, but Darla seemed slightly adamant about not wanting to be out in the cold for too long. “Okay, let’s go home, Darla.” He walked away, waving them goodbye, and they did the same.

The next morning, he hoped to bump into the kind stranger again, and by him, he meant Darla bumping into the kind stranger. He grabbed a new, unbroken, leash for Darla, and took her out for a walk again in the Common. Like the usual Boston weather, it was ever changing, and luckily for him, it was slightly warmer outside, meaning Darla could tolerate it slightly better.

When he reached the park, he followed his usual routine of taking her on the path he always took around the Common. It was a slightly busier day in the Common due to the warmer, kinder weather, but nothing too crazy in his opinion. Darla seemed to enjoy the warmer weather, her tail wagging with each step, and a bright look on her face.

“Having fun?” he asked as he looked down at his dog while walking.

He bumped into another person as he wasn’t paying attention, accidentally making them drop their things. “Shoot! I’m sorry about that.” Quickly, he tried to help the other person pick up the things they dropped.

“No worries,”

Recognizing the voice, he looked up and saw the face of the kind stranger he had met the previous day. “Oh, hello,” he said in a friendly manner.

“Hi to you as well,” they responded. “I see Darla is back and happy?” They bent down to her, reaching to pet the top of her head. “You don’t mind if I pet her, right?”

“I don’t mind.” He smiled. They started petting her, making her happy with the attention. 

It was silent in the Common besides the children playing in the distance or old couples reminiscing about their past. The wind blew lightly occasionally, rustling the leaves against the ground or a tree.

He stood there, thinking about whether or not to tell them his name this time, and he decided to do so. “My name is Derek.” He extended his hand out for them to shake.

Grabbing his hand, they shook it, introducing themselves. “It’s nice to meet you, Derek.” They smiled looking up at him. He had short brown hair and a gentle look on his face.

Derek smiled back kindly, “You as well.”

They both continued to chat about the more mundane things in life together, such as living in Boston and their jobs. Sitting on a park bench beside each other, Darla sitting in Derek’s lap, their conversation seemed to flow so smoothly. 

“Yeah, Darla is a sweet Bassett Hound,” he smiled. “I adopted her back when I lived in LA.”

“All the way over on the West Coast?” They said in surprise.

“Yep, moving to Boston was something,” he chuckled.

“Definitely is,” 

Peaceful silence overtook them, allowing the autumn air to truly make itself present in the sight of beautiful foliage in the Common. Darla seemed to fall asleep in Derek’s lap curled up, his hand gently petting her.

“She’s a little sleepy,”

“Don’t move,” they laughed. “If you do, I’ll be upset that you woke up sweet Darla.”

He laughed along with them, finding it nice how easily he got along with them. Derek felt like he could talk to them endlessly and appreciated the company. Plus, he found them to be lovely and pleasant in general, especially when they spoke about their passions.

“Yeah, this book is really good.” They held the book in their hands, showing him the front cover. “I’ve been reading it for the past few days and let me tell you, the plot is beyond what it seems,”

Smiling at them, he made a mental note to check out the book sometime soon. “I’ll read it to Darla,”

“For Darla!”

They both laughed together, inadvertently waking up Darla, and they decided to go on with their day. Exchanging numbers, they decided to stay in contact with each other.

“Well, I need to run some errands, hope I talk to you again Derek.” They smiled.

“You too, Darla will miss you greatly,”

[pginrajkot]

The Ultimate Guide to Choosing the Perfect PG in Rajkot: Tips for Students

Finding a stay place among the hostels for a student is rather a huge challenge. Whether you simply wish to know how to find my PG in Rajkot or intend to get admitted to one already, these dos and don'ts will help you sail through smoothly with the most comfortable stay in Rajkot. Let us dive in!

Do: Opt for a PG near your college.

Living close to college is a game changer! A PG near me here in Rajkot saves time and energy that would otherwise go into commuting. Just roll out of your bed and reach your class within a few minutes-no more early rushing or stressing over traffic. Proximity matters more than you think when it comes to balancing studies and social life. Assure that the PG is at a realistic distance from your college.

Don't: Forget the Basics

While going out to find my PG in Rajkot, do not just get attracted by flashy amenities. Of course, all of us will be tempted to stay in a place with posh facilities, but remember that stable Wi-Fi, laundry services, and a clean kitchen are the basic services that will help you through comfortable living. Do not hesitate to ask about these necessities before finalizing your decision.

Do: Stay within a Realistic Budget

As a student, it is very important to manage finances. While searching for a PG in Rajkot, always keep a budget in mind, lest at the last minute, things may go out of hand. A PG would appear just perfect with its wonderful location, but if it is highly expensive, you will struggle with other expenses. You need to consider the extra costs for meals, laundry, and transport while setting your budget. Tools like BTRoomer will help in managing and tracking your payments.

Don’t: Neglect Security

Your safety will always come first. Be it a hostel in Rajkot or a paying guest accommodation, one should make sure that the place has all the security features, starting from CCTV cameras to secure entry and exit points with a caretaker on whom one can rely. Safety will ensure that you can be carefree and comfortable, and thus, focus on your studies. Thus, this aspect should not be neglected while selecting a PG accommodation for yourself.

Do: Follow House Rules

Every PG near me in Rajkot has a set of rules, and these are very crucial to be respected for making the living option smooth and hassle-free. They may involve some noise levels or kitchen timings, or general conduct. The following of it helps you get a peaceful friendly environment. A respectful attitude will help you and other residents have a really great time together.

Don't: Overlook Cleanliness

The cleanliness in a living space can make the entire difference. Whether you choose a PG near me in Rajkot or a hostel, always ensure the hygiene level before moving in. Is the kitchen regularly cleaned, and is the bathroom hygienic? Can you say the same thing about the common area? A dirty or messy PG can immensely cause discomfort, so take that into consideration when searching for one.

Do: Utilize Nearby Amenities

Once you have found your PG in Rajkot, take some time to look around the locality. Easy access to grocery stores, medical shops, and eateries can be a savior. Imagine walking out for your needs or to have a snack in a few minutes; such convenience surely makes life easier. So, make sure that your PG is in such a place that you can access all these services without any hassle. 

Conclusion 

If you keep these do's and don'ts in mind, living in a PG in Rajkot can be an unforgettable experience. Whether you are about to find my PG in Rajkot or have chosen your home, here are some tips that will ensure a smooth and enjoyable stay. Your PG can be a real home away from home if you strike the right balance between safety, cleanliness, and budget. Enjoy your student life in Rajkot!

[worldsbestvacationrental]

Pompano Beach rental near golf course

Golf enthusiasts and vacationers alike will find their dream escape in a Pompano Beach rental near golf courses. At World’s Best Vacation Rentals, we specialize in providing luxurious accommodations that perfectly complement your love for the game. Whether you're planning a weekend golf getaway or a longer retreat, our rentals offer unmatched convenience and comfort just minutes from Pompano Beach's finest courses.

Prime Location for Golf Lovers

Imagine waking up to sunny Florida mornings and heading out to world-class golf courses within a short drive from your vacation rental. Pompano Beach is home to some of the best courses in South Florida, including the Pompano Beach Golf Course, designed by Greg Norman. This challenging yet scenic course offers an unforgettable experience for players of all skill levels.

Our properties are strategically located near top golfing destinations, ensuring that you can spend more time on the green and less time commuting.

Luxury Rentals Tailored to Your Needs

Each Pompano Beach rental near golf courses is designed to make your stay as comfortable and enjoyable as possible. Our properties feature:

Spacious interiors with premium furnishings for relaxation after a day of golf.

Fully equipped kitchens where you can prepare meals and snacks.

Private outdoor spaces, including patios and pools, perfect for unwinding.

Proximity to dining and entertainment options, allowing you to explore the vibrant local scene.

Some rentals also include additional amenities like hot tubs or private balconies, adding a touch of luxury to your stay.

Beyond the Greens

Staying in a Pompano Beach rental near golf courses means you’re not just limited to golf. The area offers a wealth of attractions, including pristine beaches, water sports, shopping, and fine dining. After a day of golfing, indulge in fresh seafood at one of Pompano Beach’s renowned waterfront restaurants or take a relaxing sunset stroll along the shore.

Why Choose Us?

At World’s Best Vacation Rentals, we pride ourselves on providing top-notch accommodations that cater to your preferences. Our properties combine convenience, comfort, and luxury, ensuring a memorable vacation experience tailored to your love for golf and relaxation.

Book Your Golf Getaway Today

Ready to tee off on your dream vacation? Explore our Pompano Beach rentals near golf courses and start planning your ideal retreat. With stunning properties and unparalleled locations, your perfect golf getaway awaits in Pompano Beach.

Get more info. visit my website https://www.worldsbestvacationrental.com/

Contact Us Matt Criscuolo

+1 203-465-3359

[freechard]

Beach Vacation on Philippine Summer's Tail End.

It's raining tonight. When I biked around earlier this evening, I wondered if the cloud formation above indicated an on-the-way cloudburst. But now it turned out a heavy rain with roars coming from different directions. Would you be very surprised if I told you it's a thunderstorm?

According to the news, we're approaching the rainy season, which is expected to be officially declared in the *first week of June.

While my tutee graduated today from kindergarten, and my neighbors who are in elementary and high school related that the academic year ends in May, they may not be so lucky to sit restfully on the shore in the sun as they watch the glorious seascape on a beach vacation.

I would have been almost like them, had not my face-to-face examinations on Wednesday been suspended due to the heat index that reached 44° Celsius. With my unparalleled fortune, I was able to go with my mom and cousin to their scheduled Calatagan vacation.

I would say that the commute alone gave me satisfaction like I was already complete as I witnessed the nature and architecture of Batangas, especially the beautiful landscapes on both sides of the road along the peninsular Calatagan as we were being chauffeured to the resort.

And finally... WE'RE HERE.

The photo was removed.

That was me under a dead tree. At least I thought it was dead; only God knows if it's not. At that time, we were taking pictures. We were not testing the waters (no pun intended), if you are wondering; we just knew our priority—not-so-intagrammable photographs.

The photo was removed.

That was me in the water obviously holding my favorite beach pose. If that was a display picture, I would still caption it with some freedom- or YOLO-related quotes or lyrics. I've heard you asking if we had already had lunch by that time; my answer to that is yes probably.

After the fun, almost endless snacking and chat, and peaceful moments of reflection at the beach, we decided to get up. That was me upon showering and changing my clothes. I asked my cousin to take a picture of me sitting on the beach for one last time because I wanted to show off my outfit and how fresh I became. No, I'm just kidding.

At this time, my mom and I were sauntering into the information because earlier they offered to send us to the bus terminal.

We arrived at the terminal and were able to catch the last bus. Before the bus hit the road, I thought that it had been a great vacation, and I owed it to the good weather, the magnificent beach, the nice people, and the perfect trio we made.

We got back home safe, thank God. And now it's over. I am not sad that it is; in fact, the vacation even made me feel better after what I had gone through in the past weeks, but I miss it so much that if I become fortunate once again, **I'll be there in a heartbeat.

*

**

[vinthermano]

For some reason, I feel like I had a really good day today (well, yesterday, technically). I got to the office at around 1 pm, worked on some Excel sheets, bought lunch from the food court, got free coffee from my boss, then worked some more. That's about it for the first half of my shift. By 6:30 pm, I attended a work event with some colleagues, grabbed some snacks, listened to executives talk, and then I left for the mall.

I went shopping for clothes. Ritchie's birthday party happens on Saturday and he wants us to wear red so I had to. Wholeheartedly at that. Haha. Then I went home.

Once home, I had dinner. I went working again from 11 pm 'til 1 am on my laptop. I'm trying to render as much overtime work as I can because I need the cash. I actually ended up working until past 2 am. I had too much fun working on Excel again.

That's it. Nothing special really. But I feel so happy right now, and so light in spite of the tiring commute home. I haven't felt this way in a long time. I'm definitely counting this one as a perfect day. 🙂

[apexart-journal]

Manmeet Sandhu in NYC, Day 9

Took an Uptown Q subway ... book in the subway-'Jump Ship to Freedom' by Christopher Collier and James Lincoln Collier . Since I am commuting primarily by subway , there are times when I see people reading books and its gives a a kick to see what they are reading... hence the book title here.

First stop for the day- Church of Scientology - reached a little early than the given time... the guide started with a short video introduction about the founder of the Church, L Ron Hubbard.

Things I gathered from the video- The story of Scientology begins and ends with the fact that Hubbard travelled to India, China  and Japan, and built up his philosophy on what he learned there...(rest people from Asia will understand). ..he also studied  native Americans and their  healing practices, connects  spirituality with quantum physics... uses terms such as   psychology, perfection, rationalization, importance  of an individual and so many on.

the 'philosophy' of Scientology claims to have originated in 1950s  and calls itself the only modern religion of 20th Century...

The people from the church shared some ephemera regarding the philosophy and principles ... there were also short audio video presentations about the Church's belief systems on different topics such as , emotions, community, investigation, health and healing and contribution to human rights movement...

@2.15 pm -Met Steven at Apex art and shared updates about how the stay and the events over a cup of a coffee...

@3.30 an hour long session with Nancy...I realised I can just ramble on, an about so many things and nothing at the time something that I don't get the space to at home a lot...Maybe because there is nobody to talk here to...lots of words spinning in the head just floated out of the mouth...

6.30 @ Queens tech night, Cultural lab, Queens. The venue and the location were amazing, though I had no idea, what to expect. The venue also had some artworks displayed ...there was free pizza, free beer and lots of people at the meet up. I think I like the term 'meet up' , it sounds very cool and casual, yet is potentially more powerful than the idea of tea and snacks or high tea, the terms used commonly in India...

...a brief introduction about the cultural lab by the organiser , to my surprise it is a regular event with local sponsors including a community library... There was a presentation and talk by a famous New York Graphic Designer Paula Scher.

Honestly I didn't  know who she was , but when she shared and spoke about her work, it turned to be very popular and known, now i see one of her posters in one of the subways...

She spoke about her inspirations - influences of NYC cartography/city plan, NYC graffiti  in her typography and graphic design, text n fonts being used on different daily objects match box, cups, glasses. Loved her art experiments with cartography.

 these pop ups , meet ups, sustainabile initiatives and tech meets around the city are kinda very inspiring ...wish we had more of the Delhi...

Return ride in  subway -  somebody is reading Paulo Coelho's Alchemist...book from my college time...

[interships-ulead]

Embracing the New Normal The Rise of Work-from-Home Internships

Have you ever wondered how to gain valuable experience while sitting on your comfy couch with your favorite snacks at hand? Well, worry not! In this digital era, the traditional internship game has evolved, opening the doors to an exciting world of online internships and  online internships program opportunities. So, grab your laptops and let's dive into the realm of virtual internships and campus ambassador programs!

Say goodbye to long commutes and early morning alarms because online internships have become the hottest trend in the professional realm. Gone are the days when you had to restrict your internship options to your local area. Now, with the power of the internet, you can connect with companies from all corners of the world, giving you an opportunity to work with diverse teams and gain exposure to different cultures and work practices.

But hey, don't be fooled into thinking that Work-from-home internships are a walk in the park. Sure, you might not have to put on your formal attire, but you'll need to don your best virtual professionalism. It's all about punctuality for virtual meetings, effective communication through emails and chat platforms, and being responsible for managing your own time efficiently. Trust me, it's a skill set worth developing!

Now, let's talk about the ultimate dream for many students – the work-from-home internship. Picture this: you wake up, grab a cup of coffee, and head straight to your desk (or bed) to start your workday. No more rush hour traffic or squeezing into overcrowded public transport. With a work-from-home internship, you have the freedom to create your own comfortable workspace and, most importantly, strike the perfect work-life balance. You can take breaks to stretch, play with your pet, or even take a power nap (shh, we won't tell anyone).

Working from home does come with its challenges, though. It takes discipline and self-motivation to stay focused and avoid distractions. Your fluffy friend might want to play fetch when you have an important deadline, or the temptation to binge-watch your favorite series can be real. But fear not, with a little determination, you'll master the art of staying productive in your cozy environment.

Now, let's spice things up with the role of a  Campus ambassador.

! If you're a social butterfly with a passion for networking, this might just be your calling. Campus ambassador programs are all about representing a company or brand on your college campus. You get to be the go-to person for your peers when it comes to sharing exciting opportunities, organizing events, and even scoring some sweet perks.

Being a campus ambassador is not just about promoting a brand; it's about building connections and developing essential soft skills like communication, leadership, and marketing. Plus, it looks fantastic on your resume – employers love to see proactive students who take the initiative to lead and engage with their community.

Now, before you rush to apply for every online internship and campus ambassador position out there, remember this: choose opportunities that align with your interests and career goals. Don't be afraid to step out of your comfort zone, but also know your boundaries. Balancing work, studies, and personal life might seem like a challenge, but it's all about finding the right fit and managing your time wisely.

So, my fellow interns, it's time to embrace the future of internships – the virtual, work-from-home, and campus ambassador experiences that await you. Prepare to take on new challenges, learn from inspiring mentors, and make memories that will shape your professional journey. .Apply now!!.

[haik-choo]

karasuno first years out late w/ their s/o

request: Could you write how 1st years (yachi too pls🥺) going out with their s/o late at night ?

a/n: this is such a cute little concept i -- 

[KARASUNO FIRST YEARS OUT LATE AT NIGHT WITH THEIR S/O]

-tsukishima, kageyama, yamaguchi, hinata, yachi

tsukishima kei.

not gonna lie, he’s often awake late at night. he’s a night owl and doesn’t mind sacrificing his sleep to watch some youtube videos

occasionally, he even goes out late at night, slipping past his parents and brother’s room and softly closing the front door with his headphones covering his ears and his hands stuffed in his pockets

so when you text him at 3am and ask if he can go out with you to the convenience store, he agrees in seconds to meet you at the halfway point between your houses

wastes no time in putting on his sneakers and a hoodie; he wants to get there quickly so that you aren’t left out by yourself

tsukishima knows there’s creeps out there, which is exactly why he jogs to the halfway point and is relieved when he’s the first one there

as soon as he sees you in the distance he fast walks to catch up to you, and slips his hand into yours

he totally brings bluetooth earbuds so that you two can listen to the same music instead of his wired headphones <3 uwu

is always on the lookout for any weirdos, and if he spots someone eyeing you up he shoots them the nastiest glare

eventually wraps his arms around your shoulder while your hand is sitll in his and its that cute little thing where your arms is across your chest holding his hand </3

pays for whatever you get at the store, ignores your complaints and tells you to shut up when you continue to insist on paying

“im trying to be a good boyfriend for once, for the love of god PLEASE shut up”

secretly takes a candid photo of you at some point in the night and sets it as his home screen -- NOT his lock screen, and when you see it he outright denies having taken it

tsukishima: you told me to take a picture of you

you: stop lying i know you’re a closet hopeless romantic 

convinces you to stop at the park and eat the snacks you both got there, music still humming in your ears as the moonlight washes you both in cool tones

tsukishima when he’s alone with you is so soft -- he literally kisses your hand and temple and mutters very softly “love you” 

all in all, tsukishima kei is the perfect night-owl boyfriend to go on snack-runs with 

kageyama tobio.

"why would i go out right now. do you know what time it is. i have practice in the morning”

kags really out here kinda hurtin’ your feelin’s ngl boy doesn’t understand the vibes LOL

honestly you probably woke him up, he’s asleep at like ten every night (even tho he still has homework to do he just flat-out ignores it LOL) 

only agrees to go out walking with you because you said he could bring his volleyball and you’d toss a few for him....and also because he’s a little worried because it’s so dark out

doesn’t walk with you to the park but meets you there LOL

he deadass has his wholeass duffel bad with the ball, two waterbottles, two towelettes, volleyball sneakers and everything

“you know,,,,we’re not playing a game, right, tobio?”

“yeah???? and??? what’s your point”

acts nonchalant but is totally having fun and is lowkey glad you asked him to go out so late because it’s cool out, there’s no one to bother him, and you just look...really good under the stars

he’s not a cheesy person but...god you just take his breath away sometimes. not that he’ll ever say that though

you ask to take a break like thirty minutes in because you are LITERALLY dying meanwhile he hasn’t even broken a sweat (”you’re already tired? maybe you should workout more” “shut UP kageyama”)

you both sit on the bench, and you’re lowkey waiting for him to reach for your hand but they’re just folded in his lap as he stares out in the nothingness of night

kageyama can’t take a hint. we know this. he’s incapable of knowing what you want unless you flat out tell him; so you have to be a very honest person

he doesn’t even really initiate skinship, not because he doesn’t want to, but just because it never really crosses his mind

plus he doesn’t feel the need to constantly show affection because he thinks it’s obvious that he likes you

despite this, he is good at spotting weird people, and he’s pretty protective of you, so you’re completely safe with him. trust him, he’ll keep you safe

all in all, have patience and stamina because kags will play volleyball with you until you pass out. also, he loves you 

yamaguchi tadashi.

is in bed by 11pm but doesn’t actually go to sleep until two am because he’s scrolling through tiktok on his phone

sees your text about wanting to go out for a late night walk and maybe go through the little forest near your house and automatically sends a text that says “ill meet you at your window! can you pack some snacks? :)”

he walks all the way to your house, even if it’s more convenient to meet halfway because he wants to protect you! he’s not the strongest nor is he the most intimidating, so all he really has to offer is his presence

despite not being strong nor scary, yams literally has eagle eye. you can’t tell me that he can’t read people in a heartbeat -- he’s extremely perceptive 

also texts you to not bring a jacket because he’s bringing on of his own for you !!! so sweet what the hell

he waits at your front door and when you step out he automatically pushes his volleyball jacket into your hands and he takes the bag of snacks from you and sticks out one of his hands UGH such a gentleman

lets you ramble about anything and stares at your side profile as he listens 

joins in with a few quips here and there but ultimately is pretty quite and lets you speak or lets the silence cozy into the conversation

sees that there’s a guy sitting on a bench up the road and he switches places with you so that you’re further away from the stranger 

also wraps a protective hand around your waist until you both are past the random dude but yams will glance behind yall every once in a while

when you two reach the mini forest he ends up taking the lead claiming that he knows a good spot

and damn, he’s right

it’s a little clearing that is illuminated solely by the moonlight and he sets the bag of snacks down beside him before sitting down himself, apologizing for not bringing a blanket that you two could sit on 

pats the spot next to him so that you sit right beside him and he leans back with his hand on yours ONGMIRG 

is the super cheesy type and tells you that you look really pretty and that,,,he kind of wants to kiss you

you: *experiencing heart palpitations* and you did this for what. 

yamaguchi: ...because i love you?

you: *K.O*

all in all, yamaguchi is the boyfriend that completely indulges your late-night escapades <3 

hinata shoyo.

is either completely fast asleep and doesn’t see your text or was awake and not planning to sleep for the next five hours, no in-between

but if he’s awake and sees your text, he agrees right away and asks where you want to meet up and what time because homeboy probably has to bike to get there AgAGAGAGA

literally doesn’t even show up in sneakers. he’s wearing sandals and shorts with a short sleeve top 

“i came in my pjs”

“i see that.”

asks if you two can bike around instead because he doesn’t want to have to wheel his bike around for like an hour 

he tells you to hold on tight because the bike was built for one person, and when you press against his back his warmth is literally so,,,comforting 

has no sense of awareness and will scream going down a hill in the middle of a neighborhood, no fucks given

so, no, he doesn’t notice any weriod people even if there are some around

you always end up running into some weird people and you get new interesting stories every other day because let’s be honest hinata is a magnet for crazy shit and crazy people (usually crackheads) 

you both just ride around as he talks about his day, usually his sister always comes up in the conversation( “she asked me to marry you the other day” “doirhgAEROIHFGRE SHOYO WHAT” “what? i told her i would. i keep my promises!”)

after like thirty minutes he begs for a break and you stop at a little 24/7 ice cream store that is run by the sweetest elderly couple

you share a sundae because you don’t want to eat too much this late at night

he plops on the bench right outside the store with his bike leaning against the metal handles, and h snuggles up to you and watches you scroll on your phone

he talks a little here and there, but for the most part, he goes quiet, and it’s during this time where you’re unaware of his gaze that he just takes his time drinking in your features in the yellow light of the lamppost 

he can’t read the mood most times, but this time he does, and he stays quiet, and he thinks to himself

that he really will marry you one day

all in all, hinata gives you the impulsive young teenage experience of late night bike rides while eating his fair share of ice cream

yachi hitoka.

another either or, except this time she’s either fast asleep or stressing over homework and the nine tests she has the next day

when you ask if she can go on a walk with you she’s hesitant because she doesn’t want to get in trouble with her mom and she’s a total goody goody and terrified of doing anything reckless; but then she remembers that her mom was on a business trip and so she, very cautiously, says yes

you: good. i’m outside your door btw

yachi: i never had a choice did i

you have to meet her at her house because she’s way too scared to walk by herself at night; she might even make you factime her as you commute because she’s worried for you

jumps at every little thing, even the crows cawing make her shit herself

instictively grabs onto your sleeve and nervously look around the entire time, to the point where she doesn’t hear what you say

so you offer to go to a little cafe that’s still open and right away she nods

she’s so adorable, she bows really deeply when you two walk into the store and apologizes for it being so late

and finally, because you two are safe, she’s calm and smiling as she sips at her strawberry smoothie

awkwardly and very shyly reaches out for your hand on the table and gently lays her palm on yours

canon: yachi totally has freckles and you can’t convince me otherwise 

her face is red and her freckles are just on display you can’t help but coo at her and tuck some hair behind her ear because god could she get any cuter?

you two end up staying for like a hour and a half and very shyly she asks if you could walk her home 

and this time on the walk she’s not overly cautious and seems to enjoy the nighttime breeze and your hand softly clasping hers

does that cute thing where she lays her head on your shoulder or arm while you both are walking and looks up at you through her eyelashes and asks if you could give her a kiss on the cheek </3

you: stop. please. im going to die.

when you’re at her door she literally just stands there awkwardly for a few seconds before tilting her head upwards and pressing her lips to yours and then promptly running inside

video calls you three seconds afterwards to make sure you get home safely 

all in all, you might need to be the impulsive one, but yachi enjoys spending late night time with you more than she admits. also please kiss her thanks      

[aka-ashi-keiji]

Hi love ! Here is my Shouto Todoroki OS request, quite simple, yet deep: in your opinion, what would it take for Shouto to actually comprehend, then acknowledge his feelings for reader ? Like, I love Slow burns and I think Todoroki's character is perfect for this kind of development. But I wonder how many time it would take him to realize what has been growing in his heart for who knows how long, in a canon way?

Or, to put it in a simple way: How long does it take to Todoroki to come to terms with his feelings, and what does he do about it ? How ?

Here it is, you're absolutely free in this request (But please give us a happy ending with lot of Fluff eidkdud). Thank you so much in advance, ILY ❤💖

Love Made of Broken Iron

Shoto Todoroki

Understanding love, best friends to lovers

One shot, soft angst to fluff

tw: mentions of child abuse.

a/n: this is for one of the kindest mutuals i have! @luluwiie i hope you love this, it was challenging but so so so much fun. hopefully this fulfills your gorgeous request. i love you!

You waited patiently on the porch as your uniform skirt moved with the early morning wind. The cherry blossom trees had just started to bloom and that fact alone was enough to warm the tips of your frozen fingers as your smile crept to your face. But nonetheless, you were freezing and it seemed as though your companion was running slightly behind schedule. You checked the time on your phone and just like you suspected, Shoto was running 5 minutes late to meet you outside his house.

“God shoto, how long does it take you to slip on a uniform?” You huffed out as you placed your phone back in your pocket and turned to knock on the front door. However, before you even got the chance to, it swung open and duel chromatic eyes stared back into yours.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting, I made us sandwiches for lunch.” He greeted you in his usual calm but hard front demeanor. Instead of commenting about how cold you were and that he should’ve made lunch faster, you simply took it and placed it in your bag. With that, you both started your commute.

You and Shoto have known each other since you were young, but due to his own family issues you both had just recently become friends. As a child, you always admired his splitone features and the way his eyes lit up in two separate ways when he was excited. At age five, you thought he was cool. But now at age seventeen, you can’t help but think he’s absolutely and utterly gorgeous.

Shoto had accepted your companionship your first year of highschool. Both of you always seemed to keep to your desk and shy away from the large groups, that similarity between you two caused you to naturally gravitate towards him. Asking for his number and inviting him to get coffee with you after school was single handedly the scariest but best idea you have ever committed to. Because if you hadn’t done that, if you had just let that day during your first year continue as always and gone to get coffee by yourself, you wouldn’t be where you are right now.

Currently, Shoto is walking on your right, he always insisted on doing so, just so that he could put some distance between you and the street. Your hands wrapped themselves securely around his forearm closest to you, trying to draw from his warmth. Well, that’s what you told yourself. But, in all honesty you just wanted an excuse to be close to him, to connect to him.

It was embarrassingly obvious how in love with Shoto you were, everyone seemed to notice except for him. And you weren’t the only one to take notice of his beauty and fall for his contrasting features. However, with you it was different, you knew that your romantic feelings couldn’t be grouped together with all of his other admirers. You didn’t fall in love with Shoto just because he was beautiful, but because you were able to connect to him and see past that iron wall he fights so hard to keep up.

Slowly, over the past three years at UA, you found yourself becoming immersed with your own feelings, not entirely sure how to deal with them. Your first year wasn’t too bad, you felt the normal butterflies when he would pat your shoulder when you did something well, one of his only signs of affection. And your cheeks still dusted rose as he would greet you in the morning and compliment something about your hair or the way you wore your uniform. But your second year was drastically different. You had a mere teenage crush on Shoto during your first year, but the amount of time you spent with him the summer after allowed for your feelings to expand to new points you didn’t know your heart was capable of feeling.

The intensity of your love spread like wildfire with every passing day you spent with him in the summer air. You’d find yourself growing overly excited about study sessions you would normally dread due to you thinking summer was your time for a break. And you personally hated silent reading with people around, the silence was uncomfortable. But sitting next to Shoto in your own home, you both on the couch with your legs over his lap, the books you read in silence on those days, that silence was comfortable then.

And if your legs weren’t over his lap, your head found its way to his shoulder or his would fall to yours. His peppermint hair sweeping to the side and tickling the nape of your neck and also covering his observant eyes. But no matter how subtle the touches were, no matter how brief the physical connection, the fire within your heart only blazed warmer.

Shoto was notorious for keeping his distance, but he let you get close. He allowed for you to take part in his interests and he took time to explain to you what he feels and why these things bring him so much joy. He let down his iron wall with you, even if it was just a little. But eventually, you learned what that iron wall was hiding. You come to understand why he’s afraid of boiling water and why he flinches so hard when you hug him without warning. You learned the heart-wrenching story of the scar that covers his sapphire eye, and the damage that it caused and still tolls on him today. You now understood why he always insisted on hanging out with you and anywhere outside of his home. And knowing you could provide that sanction for him ignited your heart’s flames all over once more.

Deep down you wanted so badly to expand your connection to him beyond just friends, but something stopped you. This ‘something’ was so definite, it felt nearly physical. It was as if an iron wall stood between you two.

Shoto had never shown any romantic interests in you, but then again he never took notice of anyone in that sort of way. No matter how many girls threw themselves his way, or when countless guys tried to catch a sliver of his attention, he barely even glanced in their direction. And it wasn’t because he was trying to be rude or blow them off. He genuinely just couldn’t tell when someone was trying to flatter him, his social skills still not up to speed. Shoto was capable of feeling, he just wasn’t sure if he should feel.

You knew this first hand, all the hints you dropped about the flames in your chest never were picked up. He simply believed you were platonically complimenting him, that iron wall still plastered around his heart. And no matter how rapid your feelings grew, the fear of rejection always halted your confessions. You loved Shoto so deeply, but you cared for the strength of your guys’ friendship to a much more powerful extent.

One night during finals week of your second year, you and Sho had been studying nearly all day. It was a Saturday and it was around 10:30 at night. You personally were hungry and Shoto himself said he could go for a snack. A late night soba vender had just opened up down the street, seemed like the perfect spot. So you both threw on sweaters over the sweatpants you had sat in all day, texted your parents since they had already gone to bed, and just like that you and shoto were walking down the dimly lit street through the quantum hours of the night sky.

The stars were scattered abundantly that night, the chill that went through your spine with every gust of wind went merely unnoticed due to the night’s beauty. Your hand clutched Shoto’s bicep, he insisted on it as a precaution. It made you feel safer as well, knowing abductions had been more frequent and took place mainly at night. But along with the security it provided, it also warmed you from the inside. The manifestation of love in your heart turned to flames, and the flames seemed to ignite your senses and tint your cheeks pink. By your luck, Shoto didn’t notice any of this, he never noticed how flustered you became when you shared these small touches that seemed to break that iron wall. But, maybe that was for the better.

You guys had ended your commute to the soba vendor, seating yourselves at the counter and ordering respectively. Shoto had insisted on paying since he somehow managed to swipe his father’s credit card, but if it was Enji’s money, you really couldn’t mind. By the time you each had finished up your meal, the time was nearly 11:45. Your walk home was slightly more eventful than the first time around, you decided to take a detour through a park near a quiet pond.

Shoto’s feet dragged after yours all while you tugged his arm as you nearly skipped to the water's edge. You had a slightly more pep in your step than he himself, but that was nearly symbolic of you and Shoto. You two were nearly identical in the way you always held a calm expression, your short but precise remarks, and even in the demeanor you both present when you become even the slightest bit irritated. These similarities manifested from the tough love in which you were raised with, Shoto’s father being mainly all tough and no love. Your parents drilled it into your mind that anything less of perfection was utter failure. But the love he lacked, you still received to some extent as a child. and that’s what set you apart. You had the ability to skip through the night and feel the joy of the starlight reflecting off your eyes, Shoto simply watching and observing your ecstasy. Not entirely processing a feeling he sees now, but has never felt for himself.

Both you and Shoto came to a standstill at the edge of the water, barely any words had been exchanged since you left the soba vendor. The shoes you both wore began to sink into the sand of the bay. You leaned over the edge, Shoto mimicking your actions. Your reflections on the water surface rippled by the Koi fish that swam beneath. The light the stars cast onto their scales bounced back and onto Shoto’s eyes. His focus connected to the fish as it swam down stream and your reflections became whole once more. While his gaze never shifted, you found yours following the change of his features. You watched through the mirror of water as his eyebrows relaxed, the corners of his mouth weren’t pulled tight, but instead they tugged upward in the most subtle of ways. The flames erupted once more, rising from the ashes like wings of a phoenix, the feeling of love you forced yourself to keep inside was fighting back against your will. You averted your gaze in hopes the heat rising in your chest and your face would subside, but even though you stood at Shoto’s right hand, that wasn;t enough to cool the flames. He noticed your sudden change of focus through the movement reflected on the water, and that's when his focus shifted, shifted to meet yours.

When your eyes connected to the brown and blue of his, you couldn’t help but take notice of just how beautiful he truly was. The way his scar emphasized the brightness of his left eye, the way of how they sparkled just as the stars did against the pond you currently stood near. Your mind had become so utterly consumed by your admiration, his words of concern passed right through you.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” He spoke softly, the time of night affecting his tone. He waved his hand slightly in front of your eyes, breaking the trance you were trapped inside. His pupils were blown out a slight bit more, his eyebrows furrowed together like they tend to be. You nodded your head, bringing yourself back to reality. Shoto brought his hand down to your elbow, slowly ushering you back to the sidewalk. What happened in the following ten seconds seemed to span for eons. Shoto turned to walk back, still keeping his grip on your arm, gentle but stern. Before you could stop yourself your hand pulled on his shoulder lightly, his attention back to you. Your hand found its way to his chin and his grip on your arm tightened in the smallest bit.

“Wha-”

Your lips cut off his protest of confusion, your eyes squeezed shut as his eyes flew open wider than ever before. You hand caressed his jaw gently as his grip on your arm fell entirely. This connection and such deep affection that was poured into that single kiss was nearly three years of confined emotions, the crave and depth of your love finally sprung free from your soul. But as you enjoyed the brief moment, your senses began to override your heart. You suddenly remembered that what was between you and Shoto was nothing more or less of a close and two way friendship. You were the first to pull away, although the look on Shoto’s face when you finally came back down from your high, he looked as if he had pulled away first.

“Sho, I’m sorry. I don’t know what happ- I shouldn't have done that please-” You rambled on as you took a step back, shame replacing the flames that were there just seconds before.

“Let’s go home, it’s late.” He cut in, his voice possessing an edge it wouldn’t normally.

“Sho please-” you pleaded, but were cut off once more.

“Y/n, please.”

The way he said your name, the motion of his back turned to you waiting for you to follow, it was enough for you to realize this was territory that shouldn’t be touched. And so instead of trying to explain yourself or make sense of what the hell just happened, you both made your way back to your house in complete and utter silence. The street lights and stars your only guide through the wordless lack of warmth. For the first time ever within your connection to Shoto, the silence couldn’t even be described as uncomfortable. It was absolutely unbearable.

Shoto had made sure you made it inside your house before walking down two blocks to his own. The usual goodnight text you received, the reminder to actually sleep, never danced across your phone screen. The conversation labeled with his name remained silent and only held the traces of the goodnight text from the night before. You couldn’t recall crying or ever falling asleep, but you remembered feeling the dampness of your pillow as you woke up the morning after.

Monday soon rolled around and you were in the middle of gathering your things for school. You couldn’t deny you were nervous to repeat your normal routine of walking to school with Shoto, but you decided the least you could do was try. You packed an extra snack for him just in case, just as he did for you on days where you were particularly struggling. You were in the middle of slipping on your shoes when a knock was heard on the door. Your parents left for work before you even woke and so that left you to answer. You expected it to be your neighbor or a local vendor, but there he stood. His uniform nicely pressed, his tie nice and straight, and his hair perfectly parted down the middle, not a single strand of white mixing with red.

“Sho! We don’t have to start walking for another half hour what are-”

“Let’s take a walk. We should talk.” He stated quite plainly, turning and walking down the steps of your porch and waiting quietly on the sidewalk.

You quickly regained your bearings and your bag and made your way to his side as your steps fell in time with his. He began to lead you through a left turn when you two would usually turn right. This is the long way to school, you thought. Maybe he really did finally have something to say. You weren;t sure if you actually were ready to hear it. it all depended on how he felt about your affections. Your fear of rejection still failed to waver even after the act of courage you displayed two days before.

Without knowing, you were walking on Shoto’s right side that day, closest to the street. Shoto only noticed as you accidentally bumped his side as you moved away from a speeding car. Without a word, he placed his hands on your biceps and moved you to his left, putting distance between you and the street. Your breath caught in your throat as he did this, the action that was so natural in any other circumstance. But in this moment in time, it showed that the connection between you two was still there and it held through the tense air that filled the space between.

Suddenly, Shoto stopped. His movements stopped entirely just a few strides in front of you. You as well came to standstill, your gaze connecting to the back of his school blazer. Then, as if the world had suddenly started to move in slow motion, Shoto turned and faced you. His hands flew to the sides of your jaw, his fingers placed behind your ears and at the curve where your jaw meets the start of your neck. His lips crashed into yours, the force behind them angry but warm, much more force than yours had conveyed. He didn’t back away, his eyes were shut as his lips explored yours. The electric that ran through his fingertips and danced across your shoulders and down your arms, spurring into your fingertips. Your hands came up to grip the front of his blazer, trying to ground yourself and not disassociate from this moment. But as quickly as it started, his lips left yours, Shoto pulling away first this time. Both of you heaved, your chests falling and rising rapidly. Saliva glistened across your lips, your own pupils blown out along with his. He brushed his bangs from his vision, focusing his hazed eyes back to you. His silence was broken as he breathed out something similar to a confession and an explanation.

“Y/n I’m gonna talk. And let me say it all before I forget please.” You nodded your head and the intensity your eyes held was enough of an indication that you were ready to hear it all. Shoto was ready to let down his iron wall completely, and welcome you into his heart that was so sheltered it didn’t know what it was necessarily welcoming.

“Look, I’m so sorry for blowing you off and dismissing the kiss that night. I should’ve at least said something, anything. But please understand that rash acts of affection is something I don’t know how to process. You know me and you know how I grew up. The last time I was ever shown any sort of physical love was from my mother, and I was five when she was taken away. I had been feeling a certain way whenever I would spend time with you. My chest would tighten and it seemed as if my heart was going to leap out on my throat. I could feel the heat of my left side intensify, it spreading to my right whenever you smiled at me. I have never felt this way, I never have felt anything close to this. I don’t even know what it is, but it draws me to you. It’s as if I’m being pulled by an unknown force that surrounds you. And it scared me, I was terrified to indulge in this feeling because it was so strange to me. A knot was constantly tightening in my stomach, and when you kissed me it snapped. And it shocked me, the feeling shocked my common sense entirely. I don’t understand this and I don’t know why. I feel these things for you but my body isn;t capable of processing it. And I could see that hurt you, and I’m sorry. I- I just need time. I still don’t know what this is. I can;t say it’s love because I’ve never loved anyone. But I’m trying to understand it because I know one thing. I care about you and I want to always be there to care about you. I feel for you beyond the feelings of a friendship. Maybe this could be love that I feel, but I’m still trying to figure that out. What I’m trying to say is that I want to love you. I’ll teach myself how to do that. But please be patient with me, let me understand these feelings.”

As his voice trailed off, your mind held onto one specific detail he spoke about. It all made sense now. His reaction made so much sense and you cursed yourself for not realizing it before. Shoto wasn;t shown the same love you were as a child, therefore his heart and mind aren’t equipped to process such strong acts of affection. You were, you were shown that extent of love, even if it was just a little. His heart was completely overwhelmed, and his entire ability to reciprocate that affection was held back by those iron walls. Something you failed to realize was that those iron walls don’t only keep feelings out, they also keep his own emotions in. And that kiss that night broke the walls and those pent up emotions flooded his body, rendering him unable to explain his bluntness. It all finally made sense.

“I’ll wait Shoto. I get it, I should’ve known. But I’ll be here to help you understand those feelings. I’ll be as patient for as long as you need because I’m able to understand my own emotions. And from that I know that I love you.” You spoke gently, cupping his hand between yours, silietly promising to be there to help his iron walls come down.

And with that, you pulled him to your chest and wrapped your arms around his waist, his gripping around your shoulders. As you embraced, Shoto vowed that he would work to understand, work to tear down the iron walls around his heart, he would do this all until he could say he loved you too.

Back to present day, nearly a year later. You and Shoto had made your way to the UA campus, about to split to different ends of the hall. His arm was wrapped snugly around your waist as he pulled you closer. His lips connected to your temple as he mumbled something about remembering to eat the sandwich he had given you that morning. You simply nodded and hugged around his waist before he pulled away. You waved him off as he began to walk his own route to class. And before you started to walk your own way, you called out to him just as his back turned.

“I love you sho.” You said loud enough for him to hear, but not so much for everyone in the halls with you two to turn their heads. He turned back around, his bangs hanging low over his two toned eyes, his scar peeking out from behind as he smiled faintly at you.

Shoto waved to you subtly as he mouthed back, “I love you too.”

There it was. You could almost hear the crash of his iron walls fall.

He holsted his bag once more and disappeared into the crowd of your fellow peers. You also began your commute as you smiled extremely brightly to yourself. His iron walls had finally come down, and his heart accepted this emotion now as something it knew. Shoto only knew the feeling of true love because he knew you, and your heart expanded because you knew him. And you now also knew everything hidden behind the walls of his mind and heart. Your guys’ love entirely constructed from the broken fragments of iron that Shoto broke down piece by piece.

>>>>>>

a/n pt. two: gonna take the time to explain why i struggled with this piece. it wasn’t because i didn’t like the prompt or i didn’t have inspiration from it. it was solely based on the fact that i’m terrible at writing love stories! also todoroki is such a complex character and i haven’t completely analyzed him like i have with bakugou and deku and kirishima. that’s why this piece was a little rougher than ones i’ve written for bakugou. nonetheless, i love this story and id love to see shoto smile again :,)

[nevermindirah]

Dorothy Freeman facts

By facts I of course mean headcanons, because Nile's mom doesn't get a first name in canon (or even confirmation that her last name is Freeman). All we know about her is the picture on Nile's phone lock screen (which is Kiki Layne's real-life mom and brother!) and a few lines that Nile tells Andy about her. I’ve been collecting my Dorothy headcanons for a while now to eventually make a post, and @mprosperossprite​‘s excellent post giving non-Americans context for what it means that Nile is from the South Side of Chicago prompted me to go ahead and share this. Disclaimer that I’m white and I will absolutely make corrections if it’s pointed out that I’ve caused harm with any of this.

So here have some fun facts about the version of Mama Freeman who lives in my head rent-free:

Her family and growing up:

she was born in the mid-'60s and named after Dorothy Dandridge

I can’t decide whether she was born in Chicago or moved there later on (maybe with Nile’s dad?) and when in the waves of the Great Migration her family left the South

she came of age in the "post"-Civil Rights movement and went to college in the mid-80s when a lot of what are now the foundational classics of Black feminism were being written

she was a young adult when Anita Hill risked so much to report that a Supreme Court nominee had sexually harassed her, and as a result she HATES Joe Biden

Marriage and babies:

she met Nile's father — I can’t decide how they met and I have two competing headcanons for his name, either Gideon for the hefty Biblical masculinity vibes (Giddy for short among family, that man loved to laugh) or Carl, which started out as a shitty Carl’s Jr burger chain joke that turns out to be perfect (it means free man!), and @knoepfchen​ used it in the sequel to if you do take a thief where Carl is alive!! — and Dorothy was a little skeptical of his near-religious devotion to the military but he was really hot and really devoted to her and they made it work

she's a little pissed that she was right but it's unbearable if she thinks about it too often

it's going to be a long, long time before she can look back on pictures of Baby Nile stomping around the house in her dad's combat boots (this is a Gina Prince Bythewood headcanon, whyyyyyyyy can I not find a link to where she said this)

she named their second baby Indus, Indy for short (this is nearly as established fanon in Book of Nile circles as how much Booker loves eating pussy, and Indy Freeman as a young adult is portrayed by either Aldis Hodge or John Boyega I don’t make the rules)

Work:

Dorothy did some office jobs but nothing really grabbed her, and she was probably gonna have to move for her husband's career, so she decided on teaching — high school humanities

she’s been active in CTU (one of the strongest teacher’s unions in the US) her whole career and one year she was on the bargaining committee and her babies know damn well never to trust a boss, not even one who says all the right things — if she ever finds out the way Nile said "like Quynh?" when Andy promised to protect her, she will lose her mind with pride

(Nile was 18 and freshly graduated from high school in 2012 when CTU went on strike for the first time in a generation and she brought her mom snacks on the picket line)

one of her very favorite things is getting her students to laugh despite themselves at her "oh my GOD you're so EMBARRASSING" old-people jokes

she's one of those teachers who can get 30+ teenagers to go dead silent with judicious application of body language

she's known to occasionally go easy on grading subjective things like essays when she knows students are having a particularly rough time at home, but the second she gets the feeling they're taking advantage and not trying their best that shit is over and they better mind their Ps & Qs

she's the kind of person who says old-people shit like that

she gives her students assignments like "help 5 neighbors register to vote" and "write a compare/contrast table about the candidates in this local election" and "research 5 different ways you could get grant money to do X" and other practical civic-minded shit

standardized testing is her supervillain origin story, just kidding it’s Rahm Emanuel, why the fuck did Obama trust that asshole

After her husband died:

she would have lost her goddamn mind if it weren't for her church friends after her husband died, people from the church raised money so they could make ends meet while his pension paperwork was taking forever, church friends watched Indy so Nile could go out for the soccer team, etc etc

she sold her and her late husband's house and moved to a 3-bedroom co-op unit when Nile started high school, it's more affordable and it meant she didn't have to worry about household repairs in the same way, she can use a wrench if she needs to but she doesn't have time and it just makes her grief flare up (co-op housing has a long history in Chicago and other US cities (like Washington DC where I live) as a way for Black people to access decent, affordable housing in the face of entrenched discrimination)

the move meant putting a longer commute between her and church, but she didn't even bother looking for a church closer to their new home, she loaded the kids into the car on the weekends, parking is hell in their new neighborhood but it's worth giving up a hard-won parking spot to not have to wait so long for the L on Sunday mornings

Indy lived with her through college and he was gearing up to get his own place when Nile died, Dorothy was planning to move into a one-bedroom in the co-op building because she doesn't need so much space anymore, Indy took a day off from his new job (not so new anymore, her baby's so grown!) to help her sort things to donate when those dress-uniform Marines came to their door

part of her wishes she could've been home more and not had to rely on Nile so much for help with Indy, but he's turned out such a kind young man, and he's a much better cook than his sister is (was, oh God — no wait, is! she’s alive! what do you mean you’ve been alive all this time??)

some of the girls from church are encouraging her to check out this social dancing thing, nobody's pressuring her to date but there's definitely been some ribbing, and with Indy out of the house... maybe? probably not, but maybe

Her feelings and beliefs and likes and dislikes:

she's an absolute badass and also she's a soft human woman with lots of feelings

she's very, very traditional in some ways, and part of her mixed feelings about Nile following in her dad's footsteps is gender stuff, she's proud of her daughter and would never stand in the way of what Nile wants to do with her life, and if Nile came home and told her she's a lesbian she would never reject her, but if Nile came home and told her she's bisexual maybe she can just try focusing on men? “I love you sweetheart and I want you to be happy I just know how hard it is already for us in this world” type shit

she has been on team natural hair basically her entire life and one of the worst fights she and Nile ever had was over Nile wanting to straighten her hair as a pre-teen

Indy takes more after her and Nile takes more after their dad, she's so proud of both of them, but Dorothy's activism was mostly wearing her natural hair to work and daring bosses to give her shit, Indy's out there marching in the streets like her parents had and she WORRIES

she teases Indy for going to so many protests like he's using it as an excuse to meet girls, but she WORRIES

when she turns 60, she gets box braids with streaks of dark purple, subtle enough that it's still work-appropriate but it makes her smile, she may be old now but damnit she’s still pretty!

she loves Grey's Anatomy and Star Trek and she watched Bridgerton all in one day

she has a dirty-old-lady celebrity crush on Chris Hemsworth

if she's ever masturbated thinking about Donna Summer, well, that's nobody's business but her own (do non-Americans know about the queen of disco??)

If you want to read fic featuring Dorothy:

I won't have to leave alone, 1000 words, Nile has a nightmare and decides to go tell her family she's immortal

I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore, 65k, Nile adjusts to immortality and does a lot of soul searching about what it means to "do what we think is right", Booker goes to grad school for trauma studies, the working title of this fic was Booker Reads Edward Said and Gloria Anzaldúa and Goes Down on Nile and the final product has an annotated bibliography in the author's notes if you’re into that kind of thing, a lot of my Dorothy Freeman headcanons were born of my process writing this

Gather round the table, we'll give you a treat, 2279 words, college AU, Nile brings her Jewish boyfriend home for Christmas

a contribution I made to Shitty Old Guard Deaths: (Booker, USA, 2025, cause of death: a mother’s righteous wrath)