#now i'm faced with the dilemma that i need to find a job where i work in a cave alone or suffer the health consequences

[gideonisms]

If you want grad school apply anyway. I've seen so many cases where technically they're not eligible but they got in anyway

Thanks for the advice!! yeah, I am not sure it is what I want because I don't think it would solve my problems but I DO think it would create new different problems and sometimes that's the best you can hope for? idk

[xhoess]

Fashion and design

Masterlist

Hongjoong!model x fem Bod! Fotographer

Summary: Hongjoong is a model and has his own clothing line, you are his fotographer for the day. When you saw that you got a chance to shoot hongjong you didn't believe it. You have been a fan of his clothing line for a while and are absolutely obsessed with it, but what you don't know is that he has been following your work since that day you started to post your photos.

Genre: romance(?), mature content

Warnings: without protection(wrap it up!!!), hongjoong down bad for you

You where sitting on your bed with your laptop, checking if you have anymore jobs for the next weeks. You see that next week on Wednesday you have a shoot scheduled with the Kim hongjoong. Designer and model. Your jaw drops in shock, why did he chose you to be his photographer, he has never even met you?

You quickly pick up your phone and dial your friends number.

"Jongho you will not believe who I will be shooting next week" "you sound exited, so probably someone famous?" He guesses. "Well yes ofcourse someone famous but I'll give you a hint, he is one of my top 3 designers in the fashion industry right now" you hear jongho think on the other side of the line, "hmm, is it Kim hongjoong?" He asks "YES it's fucking the Kim hongjoong, how did he find me I'm not even that famous I only had a couple professional collaborations" "I don't know y/n but I do know you definitely need to accept this, this is such a huge opportunity" He said "you're right, but I would never in a million years decline this anyway" you laugh.

You and jongho talk for a couple more minutes before you hang up to get ready for bed. But before you get up to wash your face you quickly accept the job offer. You can't wait till next Wednesday.

You were ready to lay in bed but your phone pings, you got an Instagram DM of a online friend you made recently, he was the absolute sweetest and helped you with a few dilemmas. You've told him almost everything that happened in your life the last few months and he's a good listener.

The week goes by very slow but it's finally Wednesday. You grab your stuff and drive to your photo studio. You've never felt so nervous to do a shoot, but it's logical, it's the biggest one yet.

Once the door is unlocked you turn the lights on with the light switch, you always forget how bright that light it's. Especially when it's still dark outside, which is right now because you need to come at least 2 hours early to set everything up.

About 1 pm there was a loud knock on the door, you rushed to the front of the studio to open it. "Hi, come on in, I am y/n l/n I will be your photographer today!" You say kindly, trying not to freak out in the meantime. "Hi y/n, my name is Hongjoong. I am glad you excepted my request, I love your work" He says while bowing slightly to greet you.

"You're kidding, I absolutely love the clothing line you have going on right now. Is it true you design every piece by yourself?" You ask. Hongjoong nods "yes, and I absolutely love doing it. Maybe I do it a bit to much, it causes a lot of stress but at the end it's all worth it" "I'm sure it is" you say.

A few minutes later you showed Hongjoong the dressing room where he could change clothes in private. While he was putting on the first outfit you put on some music, if it's silent you can't function properly.

When he came out of the dressing room you sure you stared a little too long at him "you like it?" He asked, smiling slightly. "I swear it's the best one yet, I love it when there is a lot of accessories in a outfit" you say. "I know" Hongjoong said, you were confused, what does he mean he knows? But you let it slide. You where not gonna let this get awkward. You told him to stand in front of the camera and the rest of the shoot went by quickly.

It was now 3 pm, the shoot was done and hongjoong went back to the dressing room. But he forgot his phone on the table next to the camera. When you picked it up to give it to him you saw a message from yourself on his phone. When i say your heart dropped it was not an understatement. Did you send him a instagram message? You questioned yourself so you went to double check on your own account. But no, the only one you had texted was your online friend. It couldn't possibly be him right?

You knock on his dressing room door and he sticks his head out, "y/n, what's up" "can you explain why you have a text of Me on your phone?" You say. "What? Where you going through my phone" "no you left it on the table next to my camera and I send a text message to what I thought was my online best friend but then your phone pings and I saw my username pop up. So explain, why were you being someone else?" He sighs "Come in please"

Once you've settled on the couch he begins explaining, "look, I can't follow you with my real account, people would've start questioning things and they would've started texting you about me. It was never my intention to Lie to you about it. But I love your work and I just wanted to contact you about it at first" he explained. You get it, you really do but you start to think back to all the conversations you had with him. And you remember one very clearly, last week when you hung op on jongho you texted him saying 'omg I am gonna photograph Hongjoong, now I am gonna see if he's really that hot in real life'

"I texted you ABOUT you, I've said so many stuff about you? I'm so embarrassed" you say and you can feel your cheeks burning. "You are embarrassed? I am the one who should be embarrassed" Hongjoong said, he sits down next to you and tries to make sure you have nothing to be ashamed of.

"But am I as hot as you thought I should be?" You don't answer. "Too shy to say it now, you said worse things about me tho" you looked at him "don't remind me hongjoong" you say, clearly ashamed of what you said. "Yk it's kinds hot when you told what you find hot about me like 3 monts ago, haven't stopped thinking about it since. Oh and the way you send daily vlogs about your day to me is so adorable, it's the highlight of the day. But when you send me that one outfit haul with the black long dress for the party, the one with the split and the cleavage was showing. I would be lying if I didn't get off that night"

"Are you serious?" He nods "yes, you have nothing to be embarrassed about y/n. I'm worse" "you're not worse" you state. While he was talking you where staring at his lips. "What compliments did you like the most then huh?" You say.

"When you said my hands would make a pretty necklace, got my head spinning while thinking about it" He said. "Let's make it happen then" you say.

Hongjoong lips attached to yours, the kiss wasn't so loving, it was rather hungry and messy. He pulled you on his lap and, he groaned in your mouth when you moved your hips downwards. His hand creeps from the back of your neck to the front, he disconnected the kiss and looked at you. You already looked fucked out and he had barely even started.

"Just as pretty as I imagined" He said. "Just shut up and fuck me already" you whined. "I'm taking my time with you" "well I am not taking my time with you" you slid of his lap and sat on your knees in front of the couch, in-between his legs.

You buckled his belt lose and in the process your hand brushed against his hard on, he bit the inside of his mouth to stay silent. His eyes stayed on you the whole time while you were u dressing him. Now he is only left in His underwear.

You get up and sit on his lap again, you connect your lips together and slide your hand from his torso to the waistband of his pants, you slide your hand in his underwear and you wrap your hand around his cock, you can already feel the precum comming put of his tip.

You start stroking your hand up and down, hongjong needs more, he bucks his hips upwards and moans in your mouth.

You get down on your knees again and take of his underwear in the meantime, his cock springs free and your hand is around it again in no time. You lower your head and lick his cock from the bottom to the top, he throws his head back and cursed your name. Once you reach the top you take the tip in your mouth and swirl your tongue around it.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and pushes you down a bit, you give in and start to bob your head up and down in a smooth motion. After a few minutes Hongjoong pulled out of your mouth "I can't hold it any longer and I want to be in you when I cum" He says, out of breath.

He lays you down on the couch and starts to prep you, he wets his fingers by sucking on them and God that looked hot. He first fingers you with two fingers but he soon noticed that you're so wet that he can easily add another one, you moan at the stretch when he adds the third finger.

"I'm ready joong" you manage to get out, and he does not need more consent. "Do you have a condom?" He asks, you shake your head "shit" He curses, "I'm clean" you say, looking at him with big eyes, "me too, you wanna do it without?" You nodded at him.

He hovers above you and lines up, he moves his hips slowly to let you adjust. Once you've adjusted fully he bottoms out slowly just to quickly push his cock back in. He looks at the way your boobs move when he pushes himself back in and decides to grab one of them, gently squeezing it.

"I can't hold it in much longer baby" He whines, you clench around him and he fastens his pace, his hand wraps around your neck and squeezes it, not to hard but hard enough to feel it. "You where right, pretty necklace" He says out of breath.

"I'm cumming" you moan, and a few seconds later you do, while you cum you clench even harder around hongjoongs cock and you moan out his name. That sends him over the edge and cums too. His semen is spilling out of you because it's so much.

Both of you are laying breathlessly on the couch, rethink about what just happened.

I just had fucking sex with Kim hongjoong, was the only thing you could think about.

Leave a like if you liked it!!! X.R

[heartseungs-archive]

love.fm | h.rj

genre ❥ fluff, angst, coworkers to lovers  pairings ❥ radio show host!renjun x fem!reader  word count ❥ 7.2k   warnings ❥ none author’s note ❥ had this sitting in my wip for a while after rewatching renra on akdong seoul....just thought it would be a really cute idea!!

My love's so young, I'm young, at a sweet age I can't only look at you

As the ‘ON AIR’ sign flickers to life, you pick up the familiar pair of headphones at your seat, colourful stickers decorating the headband to separate it from the rest. The other guys at the station don’t particularly mind sharing headphones, but you find having a personalized one more enjoyable.

Seulgi, your program director, stands behind the glass wall, flashing a thumbs up from where she’s comfortably nestled in her chair. Jeno is just beside her, but he’s much more focused on the music controls, ensuring that it’s broadcasting smoothly. There’s a teleprompter in front of you, but you know you won’t need it. You’ll probably go off script anyways.

Which is why your partner flashes a warning glance at you, and you simply grin. He’s the one who keeps track of time and attempts to stick to Seulgi’s meticulously planned program sheets, reigning you in when you go off tangents.

Huang Renjun has been your partner host for the past year, and the both of you make a good team. A wonderful team, actually, if the listener numbers are anything to go off by. You know it’s partially luck that the both of you got an interesting show to helm, but surely part of it is due to your efforts as well.

Renjun’s dressed in a comfortable black hoodie today, already wearing his reading glasses as he looks over the script. You had teased him for his poor eyesight until he finally caved and bought the white frames that now rest comfortably on his nose.

A cue from Seulgi jolts you out of your thoughts, and you quickly take a sip of water before turning on the microphone. Renjun flashes an encouraging smile at you, even though it’s practically routine at this point.

“Welcome to The Love Club, where we provide a solution towards each and every dilemma you have about romance. It’s your favourite DJ, Y/N, along with Ren-D. I hope your Friday is going good, dear listener, so grab a cup of tea and let us accompany you until midnight!” The words flow out of your mouth smoothly, from weeks upon weeks of practice. Even then, the rush of excitement that fills you each time you speak into the microphone still remains as new as the first day you stepped into the studio.

“Thank you to everyone who sent in their stories! Today, we’ll be discussing the topic of first loves. Our first story is from user jiyeonluv.”

Dear Ren-D and Y/N-D,

I’m Jiyeon, a high-school student. I have a crush on someone in my school, and I really, really like them. But we’re graduating already, and I think we’ll be going to different universities. Should I pursue him?

You hum gently, thinking over your reply. The letter causes a fond smile to make its way onto your face, just from how adorable it is. “I think you should go for it. After all, if both of you really like each other, it’s possible. Besides, it’s better to try and be rejected, rather than not and worry about the what ifs.”

Renjun nods. “Besides, I heard long-distance relationships are the trend now,” he adds.

“I’m not sure where Renjun gets his trends from, considering he barely uses the internet,” you contradict, and Renjun scoffs slightly. “However, I hope everything goes well for you, user jiyeonluv! On that note, the first song of today that we’ll be playing is Young Luv by STAYC.”

“Good job today,” you say, and Renjun quickly returns your tired grin. He pushes open the glass door, you following behind him. Your tote bag lies on the shelf outside the office along with your sneakers, and you quickly put your shoes on, smartphone in hand.

Seulgi and Jeno wave goodbye to you as you leave, both of them already preparing for the next programme. Their schedules run a bit differently from yours and Renjun’s, considering they manage the night programmes until two in the morning. You wouldn’t be surprised if the both of them were almost nocturnal at this point.

The hallway is dim at this time of night, the broadcasting station void of much activity except for the room you just exited. However, there are still footsteps here and there, likely from interns or security patrolling the building.

It’s a short walk from your studio to the carpark, but you’re already shivering by the time you exit the building. It’s coming to fall, and the leaves are already transitioning to shades of autumnal red and yellow.

It’s quickly halted by the feeling of a jacket over your shoulders, however, and you quickly look up at Renjun, a silent protest in your eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a hoodie on. You, on the other hand, should really start remembering to bring your own jacket.”

“I don’t need to, when you lend me one anyways,” you reply, and he huffs a laugh, rolling his eyes.

However, you’re quick to move your hands towards the heating vents of Renjun’s car once you’re inside, sinking into the plush leather seats comfortably.

“You don’t need to send me back, you know. The public buses are still running,” you mutter, your breath fogging up the window. You draw a smiley face on it absentmindedly, watching as the cityscape flies by.

“It’s not that safe. Besides, you’re on the way anyways.” Renjun’s lying, because you know where he lives, and it is most definitely not on the way. In fact, it’s likely added an extra fifteen minutes to his journey home, but you’re not going to protest with him further, especially when the rides are in your benefit.

Even though the both of you are able to continue an entertaining banter throughout the entirety of the radio program, you and Renjun seem to lapse more into silence once alone, likely due to fatigue as well. You suppose it’s also due to the fact that there’s not much need for words to be exchanged for you to feel comfortable in Renjun’s presence, him focused on the road and you with…well, nothing exactly. The drive is always a good time for you to clear your mind, considering Renjun’s careful enough and you completely trust him to get you back home safe.

“See you tomorrow,” he says once the both of you are in front of your apartment building and you wave to him before stepping out onto the pavement, watching as his car gradually disappears down the winding path.

When you reach home, you’re quick to fall into bed, already exhausted. You’ll shower tomorrow, you think, but for now, what you need is a good night’s sleep.

“Well, someone looks cranky.”

“Shut up, Haechan.”

“Even I don’t mess with Jaemin, Haechan. You should be careful,” Mark says, and Jaemin just nods. Haechan sighs dramatically, sinking back into the chair, and his antics are the first thing you see when you step into the office.

“Well, I hope no one’s cranky after what I bought,” you announce, paper bags with recognizable green logos in your hands. Jaemin immediately perks up, looking at you gratefully.

“You’re so much better than Haechan,” he says, a sound of indignance coming from the other boy at his statement.

“Eight shots for you- I don’t know how you actually drink that, by the way, an iced tea for Mark and a latte for Hyuck.” The boys mutter soft thank yous as they take the cups from you, leaving two inside. Your caramel macchiato, and someone else’s-

“Speak of the devil.” Renjun is quick to grab his drink from your outstretched hand, raising a brow at you. It takes a while for you to realise you said it out loud, and your cheeks turn red, quickly shaking your head. “I was just wondering where you were, and you walked in right after,” you explain, and he nods, stealing a sip of your drink before he goes to his seat. You’re used to it at this point, even if Renjun has already gotten his own cold brew. You had been the one to persuade the boy into trying your macchiato a few months ago, to no little amount of effort. After a while, he had caved, but Renjun would never admit that he liked your drink more than his own.

“Today’s meeting is quite important, which is why I asked you guys to meet early.”

“At nine in the morning, no less,” Jaemin mumbles, and there’s barely audible laughter from the other two boys in the room. You had been wondering why Mark had texted the groupchat asking all of you to come down to the office early.

This morning, you had stumbled out of bed groggily when your alarm awoke you, running to the bathroom when you realised you might be late. The coffee had simultaneously been an apology and a distraction, but it ended up not mattering as much, since Renjun had arrived later than you.

“We need to discuss our plans for the second half of the year. If you guys want to revamp your programmes, change something about it, or anything.”

Haechan raises his hand quickly. “I think 37.5MHz should be extended to four hours.”

“No one wants to hear you talk for four hours, Haechan,” Renjun replies, and Haechan looks at him incredulously.

“Just because you can���t appreciate the masterpiece that is my voice, doesn’t mean others won’t-”

“Let’s stay focused, guys,” Mark reminds, but even he’s struggling slightly to maintain a serious expression on his face. The five of you are already familiar with each other at this point, being the ones to host the weekday special programs.

Mark’s in charge of the broadcast from ten in the morning to noon, his programme aptly titled Mark’s Music Space. You had come up with it at a meeting once, and he ended up liking it a lot more than you expected.

At two, Jaemin’s the one in the studio, a cup of coffee always by his side. Which is accurate, you suppose, since his entire programme is cafe-themed. He’s the one in charge of curating most of the playlists for the station, considering how well-versed the boy is in picking songs based on the mood.

Haechan takes over at five with 37.5Mhz, brightening the natural lull of the afternoons with his cheery personality. The boy runs it almost like a podcast at this point, often spending more time chatting than playing music. Still, if his ratings are anything to go by, you suppose there is an audience that he appeals to.

And then at nine, it’s you and Renjun’s turn, with Love.fm. The most interesting program, in your opinion, but you’ll never tell the other guys that, because they’ll definitely begin arguing with you incessantly. Still, you’re proud of how much work you and Renjun have put in, taking hours to plan out your themes and filtering through the listeners’ letters personally.

“Y/N, Renjun. Anything you guys want to change?” You look up at Mark, shaking your head. “I’m happy with the program.” “Me too,” Renjun replies, and you grin at him.

Jaemin lets out a slight chuckle, Haechan right after him, and you cast a pointed glance at the two. “What?” Jaemin quickly shakes his head, expression becoming blank once again. “Nothing.”

You look at Mark’s hesitant expression, and decide to just bite the bullet. “Mark, what is it?” The boy’s expression is stricken as he meets your gaze, and he coughs slightly before continuing. “Oh..um…I was gonna ask if you and Renjun wanted to make Love.fm a viewable broadcast.”

”Why don’t I get a viewable broadcast?”

“Because you post everything on your Instagram already. If I was your fan, I wouldn’t want to see your face anymore,” Jaemin responds, and Haechan huffs petulantly.

“Like….a live stream?” Renjun asks hesitantly, and Mark nods. “Yeah. Your program is already so popular, and I think a lot of the listeners are quite curious about what you guys look like. It would be a good idea for publicity. Of course, you don’t have to do a viewable one every day, it could be once a week, or something,” he explains, and you consider the idea briefly. It isn’t a bad one. You’re not someone who’s particularly afraid of the camera, and neither is Renjun. The idea’s almost exciting, the fact that you and Renjun are something like mini-celebrities because of your programme.

“I’m down if Renjun is,” you say, smiling, and Mark looks relieved, turning to your partner. “Sure,” Renjun says, and Mark claps his hands together. “Great! We can do the first one on Monday? For everyone else, Seulgi’s also discussing with the publicity team about getting us to film additional content, so I’ll keep you guys updated on that.”

You realise now that this is likely Seulgi’s idea, and it makes sense, really. When you had first started the job, you hadn’t expected the listeners to show so much support for their show hosts. Jaemin, Haechan and Mark have something of their own following as well. The five of you have potential as media personalities, and it's obvious that Seulgi’s making good use of it.

“Want to get breakfast?” Renjun asks, leaning over to your seat. “Yes please, I’m starving.” You grab your things and follow him out, waving goodbye to the others in the room.

As you pass by the recording studio, you hear faint voices filtering out of the room.

“Welcome to Chenji’s this….”

“And that!” You immediately recognize Jisung’s baritone and see the two younger boys inside, already rehearsing for their show. “They’ve improved a lot,” you comment, a fond smile on your face as you watch the two.

“I remember when they first joined. Jisung couldn’t even say one sentence without stuttering,” Renjun adds, and you let out a soft giggle. “Well, it’s thanks to you that he’s so good now. Don’t act like you didn’t stay up practising with him.” Renjun’s cheeks redden at your comment, but you know it’s true. Despite his colder exterior, Renjun is caring to the ones closest to him, and has a soft spot for the nervous youngest. It’s something you’ve noticed about him after spending so much time together, his quiet acts of service.

“What are you thinking about?” Renjun asks as the both of you step out into the bright morning sunlight. He looks nice today, brown corduroy jacket over a white shirt and jeans.

“I like your outfit today,” you comment, not catching the way Renjun’s breath hitches, his pulse speeding up just barely.

“Are you just saying this because you want the jacket?”

“No promises.”

When I see you happy Naturally, I'm laughing along I get excited by your actions and toss and turn

Technically, you shouldn’t even be nervous. But you can’t shake the tension that grips you, despite the two cups of hot chamomile that you’ve already consumed. It’s okay, you tell yourself. Today is like any other broadcast, Y/N.

“We just hit fifty thousand listeners,” Seulgi announces, and you sigh shakily, hearing Mark let out a low whistle at the news. You take it back. Today isn’t like any other broadcast. That’s close to double your usual number. Your train of thoughts- more like a nervous trainwreck at this point, really- is brought to a halt by the feeling of a warm hand on yours.

“You okay?” Renjun asks, his gaze warm, and you feel your heartrate slow down slightly. It’s not that you don’t want this- you’re quite excited, to be honest, but there’s also a little fear at the viewers’ reactions.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he continues, out of earshot of the people outside. However, you’re quick to pull yourself out of it, shaking your head at Renjun. His concerned gaze doesn’t leave your figure, but you smile at him reassuringly.

“I’m fine. Ready as ever. Seulgi, shall we start?” You ask, and she nods, turning on the cameras. There’s a screen in front of you that shows the comments, but you decide not to look, instead focusing on your script and the camera.

“Hello, everyone! Today is a very special day. As you can see, Ren-D and I are meeting everyone for the first time via live stream.” Renjun waves shyly at that, and you automatically grin, nervousness easing slightly as you fall back into the routine of hosting.

“I feel like someone doing a face reveal,” Renjun points out, and you laugh slightly. “Yeah, me too. Honestly, I was so nervous.”

You’re feeling much better now, and it feels like any other evening in the broadcasting studio, Renjun next to you, script in hand.

“Let me read out our first letter today, from user tyongya.”

Dear Y/N-D and Ren-D,

You have no idea how excited I was for the broadcast today! I wrote this letter because I’ve been in a relationship with someone for two years, but we haven’t told each other we love each other yet. What is love to the both of you?

Thank you for this program, and I’m cheering both of you on!

“Oh…” you trail off as you think over your reply, head tilted. “Wow, that’s a big question,” Renjun comments, and you nod.

“I think love is wanting to see the other person happy, no matter what. Like, seeing them smile makes you smile too. That’s the simplest way I can put it,” you finally state, and Renjun makes a sound of agreement.

“Y/N said it well. If I love someone, I think I would place their happiness above my own. Personally, I would say that loving someone means that being with them makes you want to be a better person, both for them and for yourself.” Renjun’s looking at you as he says it, and his voice takes on a noticeably softer tone. You’re suddenly unable to look at him for some reason, gaze darting downwards to your script nervously.

Once you regain your composure, you continue, even though the back of your neck still feels warm for some reason.

“Yes, don’t forget that self-love is important too, guys,” you say, and Renjun chuckles, causing you to inevitably let out a laugh of your own as well. He’s smiling brightly, and you’re not sure whether it’s because of the excitement of doing a live video broadcast, but you can’t hold back the wide grin that appears resolutely on your features as well.

“Now, our next song is Love, Maybe by Melomance. User tyongya, this is for you. We hope you find love soon!”

“I knew you would recommend Love, Maybe,” Renjun says, a teasing smirk on his face. “It’s a good song!” you defend, and he doesn’t reply, causing you to jab him softly with your elbow.

“Say it’s a good song, or I won’t stop playing it in the car,” you threaten, leaning towards him until your faces are close. Renjun leans back playfully, away from you, and you only lean closer, eyes questioning.

Until your headphone wire gets caught, causing you to stumble forward into his chair. Renjun’s quick to catch you, and you turn to look at him, only realising your faces are a hair’s breadth away from each other when it’s too late.

You’re quite sure you’ve stopped breathing as you look into Renjun’s wide eyes. It seems like forever before he quickly regains his senses and puts some distance between the both of you, standing up from his chair and letting out a nervous cough.

You’re still in a daze, cheeks already reddening with their familiar flush.

”Guys, good job on the broadcast today- are you two alright?” Seulgi glances confusedly at the both of you as she steps in, and Renjun is the first to respond.

“Yeah…we’re fine. What did you say?” He asks, and Seulgi looks rather doubtful, even as she grins at the both of you.

“We broke our viewer record today. And you guys should see the comments,” she adds, handing the both of you her laptop. You scroll absentmindedly, taking a while to focus. There are thousands of them, coming in at a mile a minute even though the broadcast’s over.

Wow….the both of them look exactly how they sound. And I love their voices, so that speaks for itself.

Y/N looks like she could be a celebrity! And Renjun too.

It’s hard to conceal your happy smile at the positive comments, even if it’s shallow to care about your appearance. Renjun catches your eyes, and the previous tension seems to be dispelled. You continue scrolling down, not entirely ready for the next barrage of comments.

The more I think about it, Renjun and Y/N look so good together.

These two are so compatible…I wonder if they’re dating?

Wouldn’t it be so cute if they were a couple? They even run Love.fm together…it’s like something out of a fiction book.

You cough abruptly, cheeks flushing as Seulgi looks at you, concerned. Renjun seems to have noticed them too, handing the laptop back and averting his gaze from where you’re standing. You hear the door open, and realise the midnight news broadcast must be starting soon.

“Right, you guys must be tired. Go home and rest,” she nags, almost pushing the both of you out of the recording studio. You don’t even bother to resist her, thoughts hung up on the comments from the listeners.

There’s an awkward silence that hangs over you and Renjun as the both of you leave the company building, and you fiddle with your fingers, unsure of what to say. It continues even as you enter the car, and Renjun seems to feel it too, for he immediately plays music the moment the both of you get in.

You lean your head against the headrest, occasionally taking quick glances at Renjun when you think he isn’t looking. It makes you feel nervous somehow, as if you’re doing something you shouldn’t.

His profile is soft under the streetlights, silver hair shining brightly even in the darkness. You remember when he had first walked in with it, and you stared at him open-mouthed in shock. It was such a stark contrast from his previous raven black hair, and yet seemed to make his features glow even brighter. The thought makes your heart flutter against your own will. You’re bewildered at the strange feeling, and yet can’t seem to tear your eyes away from the boy.

“You’re staring. Is something wrong?” Renjun’s direct question causes you to sit up immediately, heart rate stumbling. “Nope, nothing,” you stutter out, stubbornly turning your gaze out the car window, just in time for you to miss the amused smile on Renjun’s face.

“Y/N, wait.” Your hand is on the car handle when Renjun halts you outside your apartment building. You turn back to look at him, tote bag already in your grasp. “What is it?” The silver-haired boy falls silent at that, seeming to hesitate over something. You’re patient, however, leaning back into the seat just as you recognise the next song that has started playing through his car speakers.

I'm gettin' really tired of this back and forth Why don't we just give in to this driving force? I mean, there's somethin' between us

The lyrics make your brain short-circuit, and you can’t help but interpret them in the context of the situation, filling your heart with a heady sort of hope as you look at Renjun. It feels like you’re wading into unfamiliar waters, but something tells you to keep going.

“You did well today.”

“Huh?” You’re brought back down to reality, Renjun’s words grounding you.

”You were nervous, but you got through it. I’m proud of you. That’s what I wanted to say, I guess,” he mumbles, and the words are sweet, warming your heart.

“That wasn’t what I was expecting,” you say reflexively, and he turns to you. “Were you expecting something else?” His gaze is strangely searching as he turns to you, almost as if he’s silently beseeching you to say something else as well. However, you’re seized by nerves, and quickly shake your head.

“No, nothing. Thank you, Renjun. You did well today too. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Even then, you feel a sense of disappointment, but you can’t possibly blame him for your own overactive imagination. It must be the comments getting to your head, you think, as you step out of the car and Renjun waves to you.

Still, you can’t shake the thought of Renjun being more to you, of the both of you being more than just colleagues and friends. It’s never been something that’s come to mind, and yet made glaringly obvious by the events of today. The way you are starting to find it harder to let your eyes stray from his features, the drives home with him becoming the most treasured moments of your day.

The answer’s simple, really. Stupidly simple that you should have figured it out a long time ago, considering the fact that the both of you run a romance advisory programme. You have feelings for Renjun. Not-so-platonic feelings, if the speeding up of your heartbeat in the past few days are any indication.

You only remember the second half of the lyrics when you’re on your sofa, the lyrics of the song that was playing in Renjun’s car.

If I'm on your mind You know that you're on my mind I don't want to fall in love alone

“I don’t want to fall in love alone either,” you say to no one in particular, the only accompaniment being the four walls of your studio apartment. You’re at a loss on what to do with Renjun, haunted by both the endless possibilities and the fear of rejection.

Love is hard when it comes to Renjun, and you’re not sure if all your experience with hosting will have any use.

It’s two days before Renjun sees you in the studio again. On Tuesday, he had been waiting for you outside, before Seulgi had fired a quick text saying you had called in sick.

When you were absent from your seat beside him on Wednesday, there had been a foreign feeling of emptiness in the studio, compounded by the fact that you had yet to reply Renjun’s messages. Even then, he tries to make the program as engaging as possible, assuming that you’re home resting.

It’s not the same, no matter how hard he tries. It’s not the same without you.

By the time you step into the recording booth, Renjun’s positively overcome with worry, ready to jump out of his seat and hug you at the sight of you well and alive. However, he’s not sure if it will overwhelm you. He decides to force himself to stay where he is, fiddling anxiously with his fingers as his eyes follow you around the room. You smile pensively at him when you catch his gaze. In truth, you hadn’t been sick. You were just scared of seeing Renjun, especially immediately after being confronted with the weight of your new feelings.

The introduction passes as usual, and you put in extra effort to make your voice bright and cheery after your absence, knowing that the listeners must have missed you. Even then, Renjun can detect a note of artificiality in your voice, almost as if you’re deliberately trying to present yourself that way. Maybe you’re still feeling sick, he thinks, and feels a pang of guilt for hounding you with his messages. However, he already has medicine in his bag, and a heat pack for you later, just to make sure you recover as quickly as possible.

You’re less talkative than usual today, giving short replies outside of the programme itself. Renjun tries not to let it unnerve him, but he’s not sure how to reach out to you.

“Renjun, can you read the next letter, please?” You ask cheerfully, the way your emotions switch up from lethargic to energetic becoming rather disarming to him. “Oh yes, of course,” he says, panicking slightly as he fumbles with his script, lost in thought.

Dear Ren-D and Y/N-D,

Hello! I’m not sure if you can call me a regular listener, but I’m very familiar with this program. I wrote this letter because of a very big dilemma I have. I think I have feelings for a good friend of mine, who also happens to be a colleague. But confessing might make our relationship awkward, and I don’t want to ruin it for us. At the same time, my feelings are so strong that I don’t know what to do with them.

“This is from user caramelmacchiato,” Renjun adds at the end, and you’re awfully silent as he looks at you, waiting to see if you’ll reply first. When you don’t speak after a while, he decides to go first.

“I think you should go for it,” he encourages, and the only thing he hears from you is a sharp inhale, causing Renjun to furrow his brows in concern.

“Often, we don’t have control over what we feel, or the people we like. I think it’s better to confess first. If he’s really someone you like that much, I’m sure he’s a good person who will understand your emotions, and the friendship won’t break apart that easily,” he continues, and you’re staring at Renjun now, a stricken expression on your face.

“And…for all you know, user caramelmacchiato, your friend just might like you back too.” Renjun’s mouth tilts up in a grin as he says it, his heart fluttering strangely for some reason. It definitely doesn’t help that your gaze is riveted on him, and Renjun runs a hand through his hair self-consciously. You’ve always made him nervous, even if you’ve known him for more than a year.

He quickly remembers that the both of you are on live broadcast, however, Seulgi and Jeno still watching. “Y/N?” he asks, and you shake your head as if clearing your mind from a fog.

“Oh, yes. Good luck, um…user caramelmacchiato.” Your voice is slightly high-pitched and squeaky, and it’s obvious you’re nervous, though Renjun can’t think of a reason why.

“As the night comes to a close, we have one last song for you. This is Fall in Love Alone by Stacey Ryan. Goodnight everyone!” You successfully bring the programme to a finale, and Jeno ends the broadcast.

Renjun’s quick to grab his things and make his way over to you, but you’re two steps ahead of him, almost jumping out of your chair once the microphone is off. He stares at you from where he is, and sees the same confused expression on Seulgi’s face. It’s unlike you to simply just up and leave, especially when Renjun is the one sending you home. And he doubts you have plans after midnight.

When he enters the hallway, there’s no sign of you, and Renjun worries his lip in frustration. He’s not stupid. There must be something wrong, somewhere. He thinks back to each of his interactions with you over the past week, picking each of them apart moment by moment in his brain.

The both of you had called to discuss the live broadcast four days ago, and ended up watching a movie together. And then it was the broadcast itself, where he sent you home afterwards. Where he had been so close to saying something that was on the tip of his tongue, but didn’t.

The next two days, you had disappeared without contact while you were sick.

There had to be something he was missing.

Maybe Saturday? But nothing happened other than the morning meeting. When the both of you had gotten breakfast after you bought him a matcha latte and got yourself a…

“Oh God,” he mutters to himself, the puzzle pieces falling into place. It’s not an entirely plausible idea, and Renjun’s pretty sure he’s making connections based on pure gut feeling. Still, it’s too much of a coincidence. Or maybe it isn’t. The way you’re acting, the song that you chose today to finish the broadcast, they fill Renjun’s heart with just the tiniest bit of hope.

He really has to find you now.

Renjun’s grateful he wore his better pair of sneakers today as he rushes out of the building, eyes scanning the place for your familiar figure.

It’s almost a solid five minutes of his heartbeat thundering in his ears until he spots you, walking in the direction of the intersection, and then he’s running.

Renjun reaches you right as the light turns green, grabbing your hand and causing you to spin around in shock. You’ve got your headphones on, and the sudden disturbance leaves your eyes wide in shock. You don’t even resist as Renjun drags you to a bench, motioning for you to sit next to him.

You guessed he would ask about your odd behaviour eventually. You just didn’t expect it to be so soon. The area is deserted except for the both of you, and Renjun’s still slightly out of breath as he sits next to you.

You don’t dare to look at him. It’s a cloudless day today, and you can see clearly even though there’s barely any lighting, thanks to the moon.

“Well, I’m sure you have something to say-” you start, but you’re quickly cut off by Renjun.

“User caramelmacchiato. That’s you, isn’t it?” His question causes your heart to stutter to a stop, and you’re hoping you heard him wrong. Still, the resounding silence tells you that you heard him exactly.

Honestly, you should probably have picked a better username. You’re kicking yourself for it now, realising you overlooked Renjun’s natural knack for observation. Your silence makes it obvious that he’s right, and the boy next to you lets out a soft sigh, causing your heart to fall slightly.

Your posture is tense, already prepared for the sting of inevitable rejection. “It’s okay if you don’t like me, Renjun, really, I’ll be fine-” you’re cut off by his palm over your mouth, and you stare at him incredulously. Renjun, for his part, looks frustrated, forehead scrunched as he turns to face you.

“Will you let me speak for one second?” He says exasperatedly, and you nod.

“I was right about the friend. He likes you back too,” Renjun mutters, and you stare at him for a few seconds too long before the words sink in. You push his hand away roughly, your lips falling open into an expression of shock.

“What?” Renjun shrugs at the disbelief on your face. “Is it that hard to believe?”

“No, it’s just that the both of us-” You’re quickly silenced again, but this time, instead of his hand, Renjun’s lips are on yours. He’s kissing you, and you’re frozen, eyes wide.

Renjun fills with alarm when you’re unresponsive, and he’s wondering if he’s made a terrible, terrible mistake. He’s just about to pull away, when there’s a tug on his hoodie. You’re kissing him back, and he can hear nothing but his heartbeat.

Renju’s not one for physical affection, but he thinks he might be dreaming. You’re definitely topping the list of people he doesn’t mind being touchy with, and he might just seek it out himself.

It seems like too soon when you finally pull away, but Renjun doesn’t mind. After all, he’s hoping that the both of you have plenty of time, to do….whatever this is. There’s still a tiny part of him, however, that fears the thought of you realising this was a mistake and running away.

That fear quickly disappears when you break out into the most radiant smile Renjun has ever seen, causing him to let out an exhale of relief, and you burst out in giggles at his expression. “What?”

“Nothing. I’m just happy,” you confess, and Renjun’s heart feels so full, so light, as you lean against him.

“I think I liked you the first day you walked into our office. I was just too much of a coward to consider even dating a colleague,” you continue, and Renjun lets a fond smile make its way onto his face.

“If you’re a coward, then I’m an idiot for not realising sooner. Will you let me send you home now?” At your soft nod, Renjun extends a hand out to you, relishing the feeling of your smaller palm in his.

It may have taken a year of waiting, confusion, and a whole lot of running, but Renjun finally has you, and he’s never going to let you go, not if you’ll have him.

“Ren-D, some of our readers are asking about your first love. Do you have any fun stories to share?”

There’s a teasing lilt to your voice, and the only thing preventing Renjun from rolling his eyes is the fact that the camera is currently panned to him.

“No fun stories, unfortunately, but I do have a reader’s letter to share.”

“Oh?”

Renjun clears his throat, feeling strangely nervous.

Dear Y/N-D and Ren-D,

Yesterday, I finally found the courage to chase after someone that I liked, and looking back, I think they might be my first love. I didn’t realise it until they confessed to me first, but I found myself missing their presence unconsciously when they were gone. I think many of us don’t realize how precious someone is until they’re no longer there. Hence, to all the fellow listeners here, I hope that you’ll live without regrets, and bravely chase your first love no matter what!

“Oh,” you exhale softly, eyes wide. The letter was strangely sentimental, heavy for a program such as yours. You can see the comments flowing in, and you’re sure many of them feel the same as you now.

“This person is really good with words,” you comment, and Renjun huffs a laugh, almost like he’s hiding a secret.

“This is from user matchalatte,” he says, and you nod absentmindedly in response, before you freeze, head whipping to look at him. The corners of his mouth are tilted up in a smirk, and you’re staring at him, before realising that the cameras are now panned to the both of you.

There’s heat rushing to your cheeks now, realising that you know who exactly user matchalatte is. Of course it’s him. Only Renjun would think of returning the gesture, just to see your reaction on broadcast.

“Um.” You’re not yet able to formulate words to respond, even though you know that Seulgi and Jeno are likely in the other room watching you both, along with tens of thousands of listeners. Renjun lets out a soft laugh at your starstruck expression, and it causes your heart to skip a beat at his happy expression.

“The next song we have for everyone is Je T’aime by Joy. We’ll be back after the break!” Renjun smoothly takes over your line while you’re still distracted, and embarrassingly enough, it makes you melt even more.

The gentle notes of the starting piano play are audible throughout the studio, and you jolt with familiarity, eyes meeting Renjun’s. You had added this to his playlist while the both of you were drafting the program schedule, and even though he had been ambivalent to the song at first, you found the album sitting on your desk a week later.

Honestly, you should have realised it sooner. That he was the one you wanted to have morning coffee runs and midnight drives with. The person whose playlists you would listen to and whose favourite songs you would save.

Je t’aime. It’s an expression of love, but you don’t think all the languages in the world are enough to describe the way you feel with Renjun. He makes you feel like you’re floating, but at the same time the one who’s grounding you, a tethering force that makes you feel safe.

There’s a consistency to the way Renjun cares for you, the way he makes a space for himself so easily in your life that he feels like home. Having his love has already become a force of habit, one that you never want to break.

The beeping of the timer reminds you that the advertisement break is up, and you’ve managed to regain some semblance of composure externally, even though there’s still a light pink dusting your cheeks.

“Welcome back to Love.fm with Ren-D and Y/N! Today’s a chilly Friday evening, so let us accompany you into the weekend. Send in any romantic worries you have, and we’ll answer each and every one of them,” you start, and narrowly avoid stuttering when a hand encapsulates yours under the desk. You flash a warning glance at Renjun despite your previous nervousness, but the boy simply has a smug grin on his face.

Still, despite his teasing, you’ll gladly give anything to live in these moments forever, him next to you with his headphones on and script in hand.

Stay by my side like a delicate scent I guess I love you, I'm in love I hope this pleasant feeling will never change

[kvetchinglyneurotic]

For the fanfic asks: 3, 4, and 11 for The Hedgehog's Dilemma! (also I love love love that story, you did such an incredible job!!)

Thank you, and also sorry for the wait!

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

Here's a secret: it was Jamie's fault his dad came back.

This is the very first line of the entire fic, and I promise I didn't just choose it because I'm too lazy to re-read far enough to find another one (or at least I didn't just choose it because I'm lazy). I feel like I'm not usually that good at opening lines, but I'm honestly pretty happy with this one.

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

I'm cheating a bit because this is. much more than one line, but I've always been fond of this exchange between Jamie and Rebecca:

“After I divorced Rupert, he made a habit of turning up unexpectedly,” Ms. Welton said, voice softer than he’d ever heard it. “I would come into my office some days and find him waiting there on some pretense. He did the same at the gala, as I’m sure you remember, and at a pub where I was meeting some of our investors a few weeks ago.” “He’s a fucking cunt, Ms. Welton, we all thought so. Me and the lads’ll sort him for you if he ever pulls that shit again,” Jamie said fiercely. “I can’t say that doesn’t have its appeal, but that isn’t why I wanted to talk to you. While our situations are obviously not identical, I wanted you to know that I do have some idea of how you’re feeling right now. He didn’t turn up often, but he didn’t need to: the anticipation was almost worse, never knowing when I might have to face him.” Jamie could only nod. Thought of the calm days after one of his dad’s blow-ups, how sometimes he’d piss him off on purpose so the waiting would be done. “I’m not sure I realized how much it was weighing on me until, well,” Ms. Welton laughed, a bit sheepish, and that was a new sound, too. “Ted solved it for me, actually, in his very… Ted way. What I mean to say is that you have no obligation to endure that man, and that your life can get so infinitely brighter when you no longer have to.”

11: What do you like best about this fic?

I originally planned THD as a one-shot, and one of the things I like best about it is that I think it holds together pretty well as a multi-chapter fic — if you ignored the author's notes, I don't think it would be too obvious that that wasn't the original plan.

[lucy90712]

Puppy- Pedri

Life has been a lot recently I moved away from my hometown and my parents to move in with my boyfriend after being long distance for nearly two years. Getting to live with him has been amazing I love Pedri so much and now we don't have to miss each other in between being able to visit one another. Moving from Tenerife to Barcelona has also meant I needed to find a new job which luckily didn't take long so I've just started at a new company and moved which is a lot all at once but so far it's been mostly good.

I do feel like I'm kind of just getting through each day I wake up and then I'm at work and then I come back home again. My life doesn't feel like my life anymore I had a whole routine back home but now everything is different and I don't have the little things in my routine that helped each day feel less mundane. The best part of my day is when Pedri gets home and we can cuddle on the sofa and watch a movie which has become a daily routine. Don't get me wrong I love my new life as I get to be with Pedri but it's a lot of change all at once and I feel like it's finally catching up to me and I'm starting to miss home a little. 

It's going to take some time to get used to being here but I'm sure eventually Barcelona will start to feel like home and I'll forget all about this time where I felt out of place. I know this is where I'm supposed to be as otherwise Pedri would've never come into my life and he's definitely the best thing that's ever happened to me. When we get used to living together and I get used to the city I'm sure it will all be perfect right now we are just going through an adjustment period. 

Pedri's POV

Like most days when Y/n got home she seemed stressed until she saw me then she put a fake smile on her face. I can tell she's faking it because the smile didn't reach her eyes like it always does when she's actually smiling. I know the move has been a lot on her we both knew the first few weeks would be hard but I can tell she's still struggling and that just breaks my heart. It's not that she doesn't want to be here as when we go places together she really enjoys herself but whenever I have to leave her or she goes to work the next time I see her she looks stressed and just generally unhappy. 

I should've known that moving so far from home and getting a new job all at the same time would be hard for her but I underestimated how big of a change that would be for her. I remember when I first moved here I didn't know anyone and it was my first time living alone it was scary and I missed home a lot and that must be how y/n feels as I know she is really close to her family so not being close to them distance wise anymore is difficult. I want to do something to make her feel more at home here but I have no idea what the right thing to do is as I can't just magically help her settle in. 

This has been on my mind for a few days and I can't decide the right thing to do so I've decided that I'm going to ask some of the other guys if they have any ideas. I've told Ferran about my dilemma but he was no use and the same goes for Gavi neither of them gave me any serious ideas they just joked around like they always do. Asking them made it clear that I need to talk to one of the older guys who might actually offer some sensible advice. 

"Hey Raphinha can I get your advice on something?" I asked 

"Of course man what's up" he said 

"You know y/n moved in with me a few months ago well I just feel like she hasn't fully settled in and I don't know what to do she just seems stressed and unhappy" I said 

"That's hard she must just miss home I know this isn't the answer your looking for but time is the best thing for that and just talk to her asking her how she feels will help you understand what you can do to take some of the stress away" he advised 

"Thanks man I'll definitely talk to her" I said 

"Wait Pedri did you say y/'s missing home" one of coaches said from across the hallway 

"Yeah she just seems to be lonely I guess she's only got me and anyone I've introduced her to so when we aren't around that's when she seems to be the worst" I said 

"This might not be the solution you're looking for but my brother found a puppy dumped in a bin last night maybe having something in the house would help y/n feel less lonely if you want to meet the puppy I'll give you my brothers number" he said 

"Actually that sounds like a great idea" I said 

Getting a puppy was definitely not something I'd planned on doing for a while as I'm not around as much as I would need to be to look after a dog and I didn't want to put that all on y/n as she's getting used to life here but maybe it would be good for her. Having a little puppy around the house to keep her company while I'm not around sounds like a great idea to me and she can meet new people taking the dog for a walk. 

~~~~~~~~~~

After seeing the puppy my mind was made up he was so sweet and he reminded me a lot of the family dog y/n has back home which seemed like a sign that this was the decision I needed to make. It took a few days to get everything sorted but finally today I picked up the puppy and brought him home to explore a bit before y/n got home from work. So far he's done just that he hasn't stopped running around and playing with the few toys I got him as well as my shoes but we will work on stopping that another day. 

Your POV

Today has been a long day we had a big presentation at work today and I had a few important meetings and now I'm just exhausted. When I pulled into the driveway Pedri's car was already there and that made me feel a little better as seeing him and cuddling with him sounds like it will make all my problems go away at least for tonight. As I entered the door I saw a little plastic ball on the floor which had me confused as I don't know why Pedri would have one of those or why it would just be on the floor. Then it all made sense when a tiny ball of black fluff ran towards me grabbed the ball and ran away again towards Pedri who picked up the puppy and brought it towards me. 

As soon as he placed the puppy in my arms I was in love it looked exactly like my parents dog back home which they got when I was little and we grew up together. Holding the puppy made me feel like I had a bit of home with me and it reminded me of my childhood and all of the photos I have with my parents dog. 

"Whose dog is this?" I asked Pedri 

"He's ours" he said 

"I have so many questions" I said 

"Well one of our coaches at the club overheard me talking to Raphinha about how I think you've been missing home and feeling lonely here and said that his brother found a puppy dumped in a bin so I went and met the puppy and instantly knew he'd be a perfect fit for us and I know we both have busy lives but I thought he'd keep you company while I'm away" Pedri explained 

"Who would dump this little cutie" I cooed to the puppy

"I do have one last question does he have a name yet?" He asked 

"I haven't properly named him yet as I didn't want to do it without you but I was thinking we could call him Nilo" he said 

"I like that welcome to our crazy household Nilo" I said 

Pedri took my bag off me while I took Nilo to the living room so I could sit and play with him to destress from my day. It didn't take long for Pedri to join us and we both threw the little ball across the room and watched little Nilo scamper after it. A puppy would've been the last thing I thought I wanted if you'd have asked me even just yesterday but I actually think Pedri is right Nilo is going to be great at keeping me company when no one else is here and having such a happy little thing here to greet me when I get home is definitely going to brighten my days. It feels like I've got a little bit of my life from back home here now that we have a dog and hopefully that will help make Barcelona feel like home. 

For the rest of the night we didn't take our attention off Nilo but eventually we had to go to bed now we had agreed that Nilo wouldn't sleep in the bed with us but that went out the window within two seconds. As soon as we saw him sitting on the floor in his bed whimpering and wanting our attention Pedri got up and put him on our bed which stopped his crying instantly. Nilo was quick to make himself comfy in my arms as Pedri put his arms around me and we settled down for the night as some sort of weird family.

"Thank you for getting Nilo just having him here has made me feel more at home" I said 

"There's no need to thank me I just want you to be comfortable here and honestly as soon as I saw him there was no way I was leaving without him he was just too cute" Pedri laughed 

"He certainly is cute you have competition now" I joked 

"I don't think I'm going to win that competition" he said 

"No you won't but I still love you" I said 

"More than Nilo?" He asked 

"Of course for now at least" I joked 

Pedri rolled his eyes but I know he feels the exact same way I do. 

[not-krys]

The Traveling Adventures of Mister Fox and Miss Mouse

Few days ago, I was playing a FMK style ask game with @lorei-writes. One of the choices was who I would take a six hour train journey with. And, after I had given the other two choices some thought, Mitsuhide got the train ride choice. After that, the image of traveling in the old American West with him sparked in my mind.

And I tried my best to steer myself away from thinking too much about that concept bc time and energy levels wouldn't allow to make something completely coherent and complex.

And yet here we are, still thinking about an Old West traveling story with Mitsuhide.

Might as well see where this thought leads us.

Warnings: raw, unedited writing. Haven't done a whole lot of research into the old American West so details are bound to be incorrect. Reader will be referred to with she/her pronouns and other feminine aligning terms (Miss, missy, etc).

My Masterlist!

---

No one has ever said that the life of a detective was ever a glamorous one, especially when a man needed to put food in his belly and a roof over his head. Mitsuhide Akechi was also no stranger to the odd job he didn't care for but needed the cash it provided.

This current job, well, it may have just taken an interesting detour.

Back east, a sleazy gentleman had come to him to find and return his runaway bride, an oil heiress whose family he managed to swindle her out of. He knew this type and, quite frankly, didn't want to take the job because of it, but with the threat of bankruptcy of his business over his head, he had no other choice.

Instead, he took the job of recovering this runaway heiress, finding her trail laughably easy to trace. A common trend of runaway brides had started when the government started offering handouts to whoever wanted to move out west to desert and mountain country, hoping to settle it more with American citizens. Women were especially needed as schoolteachers, so it was his first thought of where he could find his runaway heiress.

Luckily (or unluckily), his hunches were rarely wrong.

He soon found himself on a train bound westward, sitting a few booths down from a young woman with a deep purple bustle dress, her white collar high on her neck and her hat decorated with sprigs of lavender. She matched the description the sleazy gentleman had given him so perfectly, it almost tore his blackened heart that he had found the girl so quickly.

But, he didn't have the time or luxury of moral dilemmas when money was on the line.

He then saw the young woman being boxed in by two other gentlemen, likely either hired by the same sleazy gentleman that had hired him or opportunists seeing a woman alone and sought to take advantage of her. Either way, he wasn't about to have his quarry taken from under his nose, especially not by amateurs.

"Please," he heard her meek voice, trying to be brave in spite of her terror, "m-my husband will be back soon, so please leave."

A perfect opportunity, Mitsuhide thought, as he grabbed the untouched dinner from his table and walked towards them.

"I don't see no diamond ring there, missy," the scoundrel smirked, "you best not be lying to me about no husband-"

"Sorry I'm late, dear." Mitsuhide said, sliding the plate of food in front of her. "The cook was busy with all the orders, and I'm afraid the waiter said they just ran out of your favorite chardonnay."

The girl turned to him, her face still nervous, but glad that someone was helping her.

Her companions, however, were not as pleased.

"Who are you?"

"Why, I'm this wonderful woman's husband." He said cordially. "The meat hadn't been cooked to the way the lady liked it, so I went to get her a fresh one."

His voice dropped lower in the next beat.

"Now, may I ask what business you gentlemen have with my darling wife?"

His hand moved subtly to his belt, brushing back his white overcoat slightly to reveal the holster and pistol at his side. The holster, decorated with stitched bellflowers, gave a not so subtle hint of who he actually was.

The boys paled.

"J-just saying hello, sir."

"Y-yeah, just saying hi, sir. N-not looking for trouble or anything."

"Good," said Mitsuhide with a smirk, "I hope you enjoy the rest of the trip, gentlemen."

The boys moved away from the lady's booth, grumbling but knew when they had been beat. You sigh with relief.

"Thank you, for stepping in."

"No trouble at all, Miss Mouse." he tipped his hat. "They shouldn't be giving you any more problems."

"…'Miss Mouse?'"

"Sorry, just came to mind when I saw you trembling."

You turned your face away, cheeks turning a light pink.

"Is it really that obvious, how nervous I am?"

"A woman travelling alone rightfully has every reason to be fearful." He took the opportunity sit in the seat across from you, giving a small push to his plate of food towards you.

"But, that's your-"

"I lost my sense of taste years ago, Miss Mouse. Complex flavors that are in likely there are wasted on me."

"Still, you need to eat too, Mister…?"

He paused, weighing his options of using his real name or coming up with a fake one on the spot. You would likely figure it out once he seized the opportunity to take you back east regardless, but, luckily (or unluckily), you just giggled and finished your own sentence.

"Mr. Fox."

"Mr. Fox?"

"Yes, if you insist on calling me Miss Mouse, I feel you should be able to take your own medicine, correct?"

Mitsuhide chuckled.

"Very well. Miss Mouse, may I introduce myself as Mr. Fox, a westward-bound traveler seeking opportunity in the wide, wild world?"

You giggled again.

"You introduce yourself well, Mr. Fox. I'm an up and coming teacher moving to the West. The Oda company is hiring in California and with my grant, I'll be ready to start my new life soon!"

A bullet couldn't have hit his heart harder. She was giving him the usual excuse for why runaway brides run from bad marriages these days. His hunch was, unfortunately, becoming more and more correct.

"A teacher? That sounds exciting. All the way out here for a teaching job."

"Y-yes." You turned your face away, looking at the passing scenery. "The Oda company pays well. They're even giving me housing and everything."

"Sounds like you're all set for life, Miss Mouse."

"Yes, yes, I am." Your voice trails off, still paying more attention to the passing scenery.

Mitsuhide turns to look out the window as well, seeing the grassy greenery and pale blue skies passing at a leisurely speed.

[steeltraptrainer]

Djura told him to get the two new... visitors. Two hunters who are frankly too young for the job, if you asked him. But he wasn't asked, so he shut up. They're standing in front of the entrance when he gets there, kind of dazed, and a bit too translucent for his tastes. They better not be ghosts. He doesn't need a haunting in Old Yharnam. None of them do. They're too light, and it feels a bit like holding mist when he picks them up. He shivers. Best bring them to Djura as fast as possible, and then he'll go back to his corner of Old Yharnam and drink himself under the table with his moonshine.

---

When they blink to awareness, they're not where they were last. They're carefully propped up against the balustrade of Djura's tower, the hunter in question sitting nearby on a rickety stool.

"Ah. You're back." A single, world-weary eye glances at them.

"The Dream has a strong grasp on you two."

"Hnnng..." Ferro presses his eyes shut.

"This is new. Usually... usually time doesn't pass."

"How... How did we get here?" Giacomo still feels a little woozy, like he was disassociating for a while.

"Had someone bring you up here. This is a new development then?" Djura hums, closing his eye. Concerning. Very concerning.

"Where did you go?"

"Back home. We... we woke up in Yharnam, about... two weeks ago." Ferro rubs his hands over his face.

"And now we're... just forced here, night after night. Days we spend home, but nights we wake up here, and can go into the Dream." His hand unconsciously clenches over his shoulder.

"Wounds carry over. Healed, but they carried over." Silence reigns for a bit.

"You two are in quite the dilemma, aren't you?" Djura shakes his head.

"Dangerous one, too. Tell me, how much did you fight?"

"Ten nights. Haven't engaged with the Huntsmen yet. We... Where we are from, killing doesn't happen. Not really. It feels wrong. Repulsive." Giacomo shudders.

"When Gascoigne went off the rails, we knocked him out and got him into the Dream. More or less did the same for Henryk, when the Crow went to hunt him." There's a creak of leather as he pulls his legs in.

"... How old are you two?" Djura dreads the answer.

"I'm 17. He's 16." Ah. Well fuck.

"Don't know who in their right mind would have conscripted you. There are age limits. Too late to worry about it now. When you did your... disassociation trick, I could practically taste the Dream again. You are in deep trouble, you two. Trouble that will only get deeper as the time goes on. The night is long, and the hunt rarely leaves you." He crosses his arms.

"Rest here a bit. I can't give you much, but I will see that you can get some new weaponry. Maybe you will find a way out with it." He reaches into his coat, pulls out a necklace with a twisted, gnarled design on it, and hands it over.

"Here. The messengers will know what to do."

---

They stay with Djura for a bit. Long enough to get their bearings. Long enough that they eventually have the energy to continue. It's daunting. With the powder keg badge, the beasts of Old Yharnam should stay quiet, they know the smell. Neither of them trusts the tentative peace, and they hurry out of the town part regardless. There are people they could save. A Bloodstarved Beast near a chalice. They don't know. They truly, truly don't know. Eventually, they decide on the people. They weave through streets they don't quite understand, try to make people go to the chapel. Not to Iosefka. She is gone. Long gone. Too late. At one point they pass the window of Gilbert. A soft-spoken man with a fate he doesn't deserve. A flamethrower comes with them, and a reassurance that Gilbert... doesn't mind his fate overmuch. Even so, they tell him to go to Old Yharnam if he thinks that it becomes too much. They don't know if he will follow the advice.

---

"I see you had some visitors tonight, Powder Keg." Djura always startles so wonderfully, Eileen muses. A full-body twitch, reflexive usage of the Stake Driver. It's amusing her to no end. Their game, really. She, who tries to approach without alerting him, and he, who is always on the lookout for her. Two wrecks, older than they should be, still here. Two wrecks who died more often than any man had right to. They both still stink of the Moon.

"One day you will send me over yonder, and it will not be with your blades, Crow." Djura shakes his head.

"You jest. You know as well as I do that that will not happen. One day you will look around and notice your corpse bending over that monstrous gun of yours, and then continue your work as a specter." Eileen can't quite contain her giggle.

"So you say, Crow, so you say." Djura huffs.

"What did you think of them?" It's unnecessary to say who she means.

"They're young. Too young. And in danger. The Dream is doing something with them, and it leaves them as ghosts here. Barely corporeal. They didn't know about it. A new development, they said." That is news to her.

"Is that so? Dire news, that. It seems our youngest colleagues have the world out to get them. The night will be long indeed." Eileen settles in, practically perching on the architecture. This would be a longer talk.

---

They hem and haw about getting people to the chapel. Some follow. Some don't. They skirt around the big issue, around Gascoigne, around Henryk, around the next cleric beast. They would need help for it. But both men had just gotten their ass summarily kicked to hell and back, and would need recovery time. They don't get to decide this night. They can feel the onset of morning. They just about find a place to stash themselves before

T h e y

W a k e

U p

[lunaremy]

I like to head cannon that sometimes white Works a little bit too much to the point his siblings have to force him to rest.

Might as well be canon! There's no way he wouldn't suffer from such exhaustion with the heroic lifestyle he leads. At least some of his siblings are mostly competent. (the visual image of White lying face-down in the bathtub is so funny to me. like hes fine in there but he looks like a roach)

"White! Come make lunch with me!!"

"Big Bro, come check this out!"

"White!! I want yakiniku for dinner!!"

White! White! White! White!

Is what he overheard from outside the walls of his room.

Really! He never caught a break. For the past few days White had been wrapped up in a mountain of business reports and the like regarding some incident in Ground Zero. As if the incident itself wasn't enough - some kind of stressful accident that was quickly quelled - he still had to deal with the mountains of incident reports and the like that came afterwards.

Shouldn't this be the job of the police?

Of course, he asked in vain. The police do half the work.

If White truly had to do absolutely everything, he might just keel over.

Truly.

White slammed his pen down on the table.

As if he doesn't already do everything!

He stood up-

And felt his vision blur for a moment.

When was the last time he'd actually slept?

Sure, bombermen need less sleep than organics overall, but...

They still need sleep.

White realizes by now that he's been standing in place for a while, but he doesn't move.

As far as he's concerned, he hasn't slept since the day of the mission.

So...about 3 days?

He's just hindering himself at this point! Bombermen need sleep to make room for new data. He needs that new data space to get the work done faster, but if he sleeps, he'll miss some of the deadlines on the paperwork.

Such a dilemma.

Welp, time to fetch the coffee chips-

(Knock, Knock)

"What is it?" White finds himself asking with a little too much force.

The door slides open, and Pink is on the other side

"We were wondering where you were-" She pauses.

"Hey, White? You doing alright?"

White blinked.

His battery was on full charge, but he desperately needed to clear out his memory so he could focus.

A body is useless without it's mind.

And apparently the two are intertwined, as Pink could visibly see his exhaustion after just a slight glance.

"I'm......"

White sighs.

"So exhausted, to be honest."

"Yeah. I haven't seen you take a break once this week!"

White sighed and relaxed his eyes.

"White? What's got you stressed like that?"

"Some paperwork and junk."

"Oh yeahhh. Now that I think of it, Red did use a lot of bombs back then, huh..."

White audibly sighed again.

Yeah. That's why he has mandatory training this week.

Supervised by White, of course.

Of course.

Another thing for him to do.

"Y'know, I can fill it out for you."

"It's legal junk," White mumbles, mind immediately relaxing into mush the moment the mere idea of a break was brought up.

"Actually, no. I will fill it out for you, because you kinda look like a mess right now."

She's a little blunt with it, but she's not wrong. White watches as Pink marches towards his desk, picking up the pen and getting to work on the pile of paperwork.

"Sorry for hogging your room, by the way." She doesn't break focus, and does her job with ease. Truly the work of a person who has their shit together.

"Whuhbjmbg," White says something before he leaves.

Relax.

His siblings don't really bother him all that much as he walks throughout the house- he makes his way to the washroom and before long he has himself a relaxing bath.

It's not a bad place to wind down. Especially since Pink's busy with his room at the moment. Better than the couch, at least...especially since Blue's not gonna share his favorite napping spot.

The water is like his sore body a blessing to a peasant, and he turns the spout off as the water approaches the top of the bathtub.

Jesus christ...someone actually helped me.

White feels his thoughts slow.

It would be irresponsible to resist this relaxation; the kind that he rarely gets.

And, being a robotic lifeform, he won't exactly drown if his head is submerged in water, so there's no harm in falling asleep in the bath the way Blue used to do. Hell, he might understand why Blue always did that now.

And understand Blue he did.

[dxy-drxxm]

⭐ | COMMISSION II : Scammed By A Fortune Teller

"Are you sure you're going to take that, Navina? It's not like he's to be trusted—"

"For the last time, Kuni, it'll be fine," Navina cut him off, glaring at the blue clad wanderer. "I've got this. After all, it's not the first time I have to deal with people."

"Hmph, and it won't be your last, that's for sure," he muttered, earning a sigh and a look of disapproval from his partner. "Alright, fine— but if they start calling us a sham like that fortuneteller he mentioned, we'll be in trouble."

... right, like they'd ever deal with that. Well, maybe now, they have to— after all, Kunimitsu was not one to hold his tongue very well against strangers.

Turning back around, the duo saw the person that needed a consultation, and from the exasperated look in his face, they knew it was going to be a long, long day.

"Good morning, sir," Navina said, putting on their usual smile as they approached the man. Raising their hand, they placed it on their chest and bowed, speaking, "I'm Navina— I've seen your commission on board and decided to help you out on your dilemma. Oh, and this is my partner, Kunimitsu."

Kunimitsu simply tilted his hat, his eyes narrowing a bit, but he did say a hello. Although, knowing him, it sounded less genuine than they'd like.

"... I apologize for his behavior, he can be quite callous," they sighed, gesturing for him to follow them to someplace where they can speak more comfortably. "Say, let's go to a cafe. I'm sure we can talk there and you can explain to me the issues about your job."

Well, it wasn't long for Navina to figure out the root of the problem.

The individual they're currently consulting with was talking about the problem with their current job. Yes, it offered good pay for their living expenses, but it seemed that working there wasn't much of his benefit. To them, it sounded less beneficial.

However, going to a new job was another thing entirely— he mentioned that he enjoyed the work, but the pay was less than he had thought. Because of it, it didn't seem to work in his favor if he moved now.

So, that's why he moved to consult to a fortune teller...

"—and like I tell you, she was a fraud! She said that it would be great to go to that new job, but in order to find out more, I have to pay her an additional fee!"

Navina kept a straight face as they heard their client complain about the fees and how unfair it was. Although they were used to it due to their experience, Kunimitsu was a man with little regard to his patience.

And after a while, he silence the client and offered his own two cents on the situation.

"Look," he began, already growing annoyed with the situation at hand. "If you're gonna start complaining about the fortune teller and how you need an astrologer to find out if what you'll do is right or not, guess what? Fate will just change, and your choice won't even matter if you think it's right or wrong."

The client seemed offended, and Navina wanted to butt in to apologize, but Kunimitsu simply continued with a sneer.

"What matters more here is if you really want it. What are we going to do? All we can do is offer you advice and what we think, and although my lover would say something nice, I won't."

Pausing, the puppet concludes, "To be completely honest, do whatever it is that matters to you. You'd be a complete moron to go after an astrologer or some sham of a fortune teller if you're just going to ignore what they'll tell you. Just do whatever that you want, but be prepared of the consequences if you do it. That's our only advice."

...

Navina could tell the silence was deafening. They placed a gloved hand on their temple, knowing that Kunimitsu has taken it too far with his sharp tongue.

"I'm so, so sorry, sir," they apologized, a frown resting on their face. "Please don't take his words to heart, he really doesn't—"

"... It's fine," the client answers, sighing. "As much as I'd be happy to know you two are astrologers, having someone to knock reality is... Good enough, I guess."

... oh, dear. I fear we won't be getting paid for this.

"I see... Well, if anything happens, you're free to contact us. We'd love to help you in any way we possibly could!"

Alas, it fell on deaf ears as the client stood up to leave without offering a goodbye.

"Kuni... You're a lot more harsh with him. He just wanted someone to help him decide whether to go for the job or to stay in the same one he's in," Navina said, sighing as they watched him turn to face them.

"And? I don't see the point of waiting to choose for either," he rebutted, making them smile nervously.

"Well, what if the don't want to switch jobs? We'd probably be paid less because of what you said to them, you know."

"Hmph," he scowled, shaking his head. "We got more commissions to take in, so I doubt that'll be a concern for us."

Well, mostly for him, anyway.

"... Right," they muttered, walking to his side to pat his shoulder. "Well, whatever— let's just not screw up the next commission, okay?"

"Not if you do it first, loser."

"Hey!"

[vili-the-tanuki]

The Vagabonds' Saga of Ambivalence: Beginning of a New Story (a blurb for a D&D campaign)

Hello, I am Toffee, you can call me Vili (none of these names are my real name or real nicknames, and so are the other names in this series. I am making sure that everyone participating in the campaign has their privacy protected.)

I've been told that I should do activities that make me think/makes my mind active for my mental health, so I decided to start writing about the D&D campaign I'm DMing, now I have never posted anything before or ever written anything before that isn't schoolwork, so I am 100% fine with taking criticism. Now we can begin.

In "The Vagabonds' Saga of Ambivalence" Players find themselves immersed in a European landscape reminiscent of the tumultuous years between the 1920s and 1950s. As a group of wanderers, the party embarks on a journey filled with promise and possibility, embracing the freedom of the open road and the allure of adventure.

Initially filled with optimism, the vagabonds find themselves drawn into the underworld of organized crime, joining the mafia that controls the vast majority of Europe. Yet, as their ascent up the social ladder begins, cracks emerge in their once-rosy perceptions. They are forced to confront the harsh realities of their nomadic existence, grappling with conflicting emotions and moral dilemmas.

As they delve deeper into the shadows of this cruel and unforgiving world, the lines between right and wrong blur, and the vagabonds are faced with difficult decisions that challenge their morals and values. Despite their initial aspirations of power and wealth, they soon realize that the road ahead is fraught with danger and uncertainty.

In "The Vagabonds' Saga of Ambivalence" players must navigate the complex terrain of their own emotions as they journey through a world that is as beautiful as it is cruel. As they struggle to reconcile their idealistic dreams with the harsh realities of their existence, they are faced with the ultimate question: Is the journey worth the cost?

So basically, if you didn't understand, I'm currently DMing a D&D game set in the 1920-1950s of Europe where the party members are vagabonds (a person who wanders from place to place without a home or job) and needed to find a way to climb the social ladder. They joined the mafia by "accident" and as their journey continues, they will achieve wealth, fame, and power, but the path they have chosen will also lead to them discovering harsh realities and not just physical challenges such as battles but also phycological ones such as losing a close friend or family.

And in ever simpler terms: Party is poor -> Party join mafia -> becomes rich and famous -> as they become rich and famous bad things happen -> trauma & pain -> regret -> Idk, campaign still going and only the first 2 or 3 has happened, everything else is just what I'm planning to happen.

This campaign is inspired by "Peaky Blinders" and Osamu Dazai's books, "No longer Human" and "The Setting Sun" (I said inspired not based on)

[phenomanemone]

o13

“Honesty…” Chai murmurs to himself. “Honesty, honesty, honesty. …Honesty.”

“We get it,” Sage grouches from the opposite end of the couch, where she's curled up under a knit blanket. She reaches out with a foot and shoves Chai's shoulder, who barely reacts. “This is where we're honest.”

“But this is also where we can waive the right to answer a question if we justify.” He points out, before noticing, “It takes you a lot less effort to anchor me in! Good job.”

Sage waves away his praise, frowning. “About the justifying stuff, what do you mean?”

“Well, being honest is hard. That's why we're doing it this way. If it's hard, why bother being honest?”

Uncomfortable, Sage pulls her leg back in. “But I want to.”

Chai shifts to face her, his back against the arm of the couch. His voice is patient as he says, “then do it.”

Sage inhales and closes her eyes. She lets herself look amongst those below her. Shaky, she fell too deep. Chai responds by cupping her arm and bringing her back up. 

“I'm in the process of… a metamorphosis, of sorts. It's a gradual shift. Something to do with foundations.” She almost recites, before blinking quickly. Her eyes are a tad wet. “I don't—  I feel like… Vio is crazy at work right now, filing reports. So much has been processed lately and I need to give it more time.”

“So like, information overload?” Chai asks, sitting back down, but letting the tips of their pinkies touch.

She scrubs at her hair, the colour and length fluctuating. “Feels like parts of those documents are being translated to me in real time, and I'm missing all the important parts.”

Whoever she is, she's morphing into abstract shapes, locking together to form a sense of consciousness to represent a persona from daydreams long ago.

Chai recognises her, and his chest swells with affection.

“Dani,” he cooes, adoring. “Hi there, Baby. It's me. Do you remember me? I remember you! Do you remember that big house we lived in? You loved the sitting room with the fireplace. You listened to so much music there! We used to dance for hours.”

He watches her shapes solidify, fluctuating with Dani's past and present selves.

She scrambles to put together a shape for them, untranslatable. She looks frightened, but Chai needs to see her.

To communicate effectively with that part, they needed to find shapes to serve as positive emotional triggers that represented their sense of identity or their perspective. Unfortunately, this part was the closest yet to the perceived worst years, and was prone to negative output. This affected the visualisation process, rendering the part to a nightmarish creature resembling the artistic stylisation of a children's show— Angela Anaconda.

They were going back too far. 

Chai looks up to see Hunter enter the room. He smiles, assuring, as he crouches down next to her.

“Hey,” he says, soft. “Remember me?”

His shape begins to fluctuate. Dani solidified as her smallest self.

“You were there too.” she realised. However, what she hadn't noticed was a fluffy brown creature lying by her side. She'd entangled her fingers into the soft fur of its belly.

“I was,” he agreed, wearing a beanie. “Chai and I took turns looking out for you. I remember you writing about our rap battle.”

Dani recalls the writing, having interpreted it as pure fiction. She almost accuses him of being a weird imaginary friend, but the situation catches up and she begins to recall memories that had never been accessible before. She compares, and she understands.

“Okay, I understand.” She says, bigger now. “...This is weird. Having a shape. Wow, I feel good, actually.”

She's clearer both in a visual and abstract manner than many other parts. Unfortunately, the visual sense was something of a trigger.

“We gotta find an abstract outline or fictional character.” Chai realises, seeing the dilemma. 

Dani's shapes call out my insecurities and sense of femininity. It kills me. Why am I not that?

Hunter glances nervously at Chai, who waves his hands animatedly.

“Uh, transition noises! We're gonna find some positive triggers!”

[nanawiin]

Hi! I love your aourd x reader fics and just wanted to say good job! Also would it be possible to request for a Suhyeok x reader where the others find out they're dating and reader is pregnant 👀

Thank you for your feedback. Here's a drabble for you request, hope you enjoy it.

((may contain errors since I'm not a native))

_________

Lately, it was like living in an eternal and suffocating dilemma... being stuck in the task of choosing between two very difficult options for you.

Despite you hated very much the idea of being seen as a dead weight, someone who needed to be protected all the time, you also didn't want to be a liar anymore.

Lying meant losing trust and you didn't want to lose Suhyeok's trust, however, to be honest, you had been lying to him for so long that now the idea of telling the truth made you feel afraid of him. More than from the zombies.

Unfortunately, sooner or later, he and the others would find out. The way you looked sick and the symptoms becoming more and more frequent...

"Are you okay? You look like you're going to throw up again. "Suhyeok commented, checking you carefully, but you were only staring at the flames of the bonfire in the center of the rooftop.

"I... I-I need to tell you something," you said, feeling a strong anxiety taking over your body.

"What is it?"

"W-well... I'm... I.... " you swallowed hard. "I'mpregnant!" you let the words coming out of your mouth real quick before your courage left you.

"W-what?"

"I'm pregnant, Suhyeok!" without noticing, you ended up speaking louder than you should, loud enough for everyone around to hear.

"Pregnant?"

The faces of everyone around showed great shock at the news and you regretted what you had said at that very moment.

Suhyeok stood up quickly and your heart raced up as he grabbed you by your arm, the force on his grip making you sigh. He led you to a more private corner in the roof.

"Why didn't you tell me before? Are you really... ?"

You nodded slowly, avoiding looking directly into his intense eyes.

"I was afraid...I was so afraid of everything. Of my parents' reaction, of other people's reaction, especially of your reaction." you felt your eyes getting filled with tears, but you hold them back.

"You should never be afraid to tell me anything." Suhyeok replied, his hand still holding your wrist, but not as tightly as before. "How long have you been... ?"

"A- a month... "

"A month? Seriously?"

"Actually I tried to tell you before... a few times..." you admitted and Suhyeok actually could remember about the times you seemed like wanting to tell him something and then commented that you had forgotten what it was, causing the boy to make jokes about you having bad memory problems. "And to make things even worse, this nightmare started, so I.. "

Suhyeok didn't seem to be paying attention on you anymore, he seemed lost in his own thoughts, so you stopped trying to explain yourself.

He was very angry with you now, wasn't he?

Feeling your heart breaking into a thousand pieces, you decided to leave him alone and return to sit with the group around the bonfire.

"It is very dangerous for a pregnant girl to stay here. We will protect you at all costs, y/n." Joon Yeong was the first to say something.

"Yeah, we won't let those fucking zombies get anywhere near you." Dae su agreed vehemently.

"Thanks, guys." you gave them a weak smile, trying hide how your were feeling at that moment.

"So... how long have you two been together? I imagined that Suhyeok was into you but I thought you didn't feel the same." Hyo Ryeong said, looking curious.

"It's kind of obvious, Suhyeok couldn't take his eyes off her even during classes." Joon Yeong commented.

"Can we change the topic? I don't think y/n is comfortable with that." Cheongsan suggested in a empathic way, however, you noticed that you weren't the only around who looked uncomfortable.

Onjo looked unhappy for some reason. She had not said a word for a while...

The focus of your attention changed when, suddenly, you felt someone sitting beside of you and you didn't have to look to know who it was.

"Are you still angry?" you asked shyly and low enough for only the boy next to you to hear.

"I can't stay angry at you for very long, you know." Suhyeok intertwined his fingers with yours as you laid your head on his shoulder. And so you knew that everything would be all right. As long as he was with you.

[littl3-val3ntine]

every breath you take ❥ edward nashton

GET IT ??2 LIKE THE POLICE SONG?2?? WHERE THEY GO "i'll be watching you..."

anyways :')

《♡》

summary // riddler always has everything planned, from the moment his plot begins up until the day after it has happened. he expects himself to be able to expect everything, until his mind is taken elsewhere during a routine stakeout on the police response to his latest hit...

warnings // stalking, profanity, mentions of violence and death, so very angsty... part 2 is much better i promise

author's note // gOD I FUCKinG love the edward nashton sees pretty person and goes absolutely feral trope... so good n nice. i do not condone stalking. he's creepy af in this, but i'm mentally ill so i dig that! also, eddie's a journalist in this, which i believe is canon as of the 2022 movie, but if i'm wrong deal with it ig LMFAO sorry

《♡》

The rain pounds, rhythmic, against the windshield of the car, interrupted only by the periodic screeching of faulty wipers. The figure behind the wheel slumps down into his damp coats, now finding himself faced with the first dilemma of the night he hadn't prepared for.

Does he leave the wipers on, letting the sound bombard his ears until it inevitably sends him into yet another unjustified, white-hot rage? Or, does he shut them off, and sacrifice what might be his only chance at a good view of the show? He tugs his lip between his teeth, rolling his head back against the seat theatrically as he ponders his options.

Squeeaaak.

He turns the radio up just a little bit louder, and rolls up the driver's side window all the way. It drowns out the sound, but only just barely enough to satisfy him. As tires squeal a few streets ahead and the avenue around him is painted red and blue, it occurs to him that he might not even be sitting out here for very long anyway.

Men pour from their police cars into the intersection, losing their typical law-enforcing rigidness to the chaos that has just been wrought upon Gotham. Even with the radio up, the windows shut, and the god-awful sound of the wipers, Nashton could hear them barking orders to one another from his place a few streets down. It was everything he'd expected, the exact image that played in his mind some nights ago when he sat awake scribbling the details of this exact plan out in his notebook. The place, the time, the disorderly yelling, the panic— hell, even the rain. Everything is falling into place, right before his very eyes.

And it thrills him. The show has officially begun.

A delighted smile creeps across his face, his eyes widening in childlike glee. It was these moments, he decides then, that he lived for. He reaches for his backpack on the passenger seat and fumbles for his binoculars and remote. He's just a few seconds behind his schedule— the time spent basking in his genius was, admittedly, not accounted for in the scheme— and if this is truly to work he must act fast. With one hand he yanks out the binoculars, and his fingers graze the cool plastic of the detonator right as he hears the first cue.

"Come out with your hands up! Step out of the vehicle!" It's muffled by the distance and the steady downpour, but he knows it when he hears it. In milliseconds he has the binoculars raised to his eyes, his sights locked in, laserfocused, on the scene unfolding in the street.

His symbol glares at him from the side of the van halted in the center of the intersection. The spray paint bleeds a bit in the rain, but he almost likes it better that way. Nevertheless, he knows the paint job was... temporary, anyway.

"I will not repeat myself again! Show me you hands!" Nashton licks his lips. His grip tightens dangerously around the detonator, watching the officer approach the dummy in the driver's seat.

"Sir, can you hear me! Do you need medical attention?" the officer calls from a disappointingly safe distance. Nashton predicted a standoff, but it's still just as much of a letdown as if he hadn't. He pulls out the remote and sets it in his lap as he hears a chorus of voices calling for an EMS, faced now with the weight of the three long minutes and, give or take, twenty-eight seconds it takes an ambulance to travel from Gotham Community Hospital to Grange Street— with light traffic, of course. It was commuting hours, after all.

Now antsy, Edward scans the crowd that's gathered around his scene. A morbid sense of accomplishment pools low in his gut as he takes in not only the size of the crowd, but the state of it. Men, women, and children, from all walks of life, all gathered on the corner of Grange and Second to watch his story unfold. On each face are eyes like saucers, and mouths hanging delightfully with anxiety or moving hastily, asking questions. His eyes drift across the crowd, not stopping on any face in particular. He knows he can't allow himself to humanize these people, not with the knowledge of what is about to come.

When his gaze lands on you the first time, toward the front of the pack and forced between an officer and a police barricade, his mind doesn't immediately register what he's looking at. It takes a second, maybe two, until his head snaps back to your direction in a double-take.

And there you are. Front and center in his mind now, tucked into a down raincoat and clutching your journalist's pad to your chest, there you are. Watching with baited breath as the Riddler's latest explosive, proudly his most powerful yet, sits in a van not even five feet from you. Blissfully unaware of your proposed imminent death, and without any realistic means of escape once it arrives.

The ambulance comes roaring in, and the crowd parts, a Red Sea of future civilian casualties, to allow its passage. Panic lodges in his throat as he gropes for the remote detonator. His time is running out. He knows that. Law enforcement is going to discover the doll, and then they're going to open the back of the van. The show must go on.

His breathing is shallow as the first EMT approaches the driver's side of the vehicle in his peripheral vision. Somewhere deep within himself, he knows he must detonate the bomb, but no longer is he prepared for it. A new scene plays in his mind as he's paralyzed there, his sight locked on your face. In his head its beautiful shape contorts with unprecedented fear, illuminated by the burst of firelight from the backside of the van. When they pry it open, you'll be the among first to see the wires and tanks of gas. Will it register in your head what is to come before you're wiped from this plane of existence by flaming death? What will the office look like, decorated by your memorial— the flowers, the photos, the obituary? How could he ever show his face at work again, knowing exactly who is at fault for your empty desk?

"No," he pleads into the empty car. "Please, move..." His thoughts are frantic, running through his options too quickly to effectively address any of them.

The paramedics open the driver's side door. The doll falls out.

"Move, just fucking move!" Detonator in hand, he pounds on the dashboard. His vision is blurred, either by new tears pooling in his eyes or sheer unbridled panic. "MOVE! MOVE! FUCKING MOVE!"

He positions his thumb over the button on the remote as police and S.W.A.T. encircle the vehicle. Deciding he can't watch, he leans forward and rests his head on the steering wheel. All of the yelling from outside, the rain, the classical music from the radio, all of it— it ceases to exist against his sobbing. He sobs so loud and so hard he feels his ribs becoming sore.

He knows what he must do. The show must go on.

Click. Boom.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

There was no more elaborate escape. No starting the car and speeding off into the night, high off of the adrenaline of it all. No victorious joyride while the news report plays quietly in the background. None of it.

He lost track of how long he'd spent there, face pressed into the steering wheel, remote in hand. He'd cried until his entire body collapsed and his tear ducts went dry.

When he finally lifts his head, his forehead is sticky with sweat and his neck cracks uncomfortably. He lets the remote fall to the floorboard, unclenching his hand for the first time in what must have been hours. With one destination in mind, he turns the key in the ignition and the car roars to life.

He hesitates, frozen again as he stares at the intersection before him. The site of the blast was impressive to say the least, still blackened with soot despite the rainfall. His eyes drift to approximately where you were standing, and a chill shoots through his body to find the ground completely charred. What might have been left of the van was already cleaned and hauled off. It’s as if it never happened.

Maybe it didn’t happen. Maybe if he just goes about his night as he usually would— stopping by your apartment, sitting in his car across the street for an hour or so, watching you through the street-facing window as you sit at your desk and run through computer work or have your dinner— he can pretend that he didn’t just blast you into a million little pieces in the middle of a crowded intersection. With enough convincing, he can almost believe that the sweet soul who offered him coffee once on his third day at the press office, who still smiles at him when they catch his gaze lingering, who moves with beauty and intrigue like he’d never witnessed before is not truly lost in this universe quite yet.

He was never able to understand quite what it was that drew him into you. It was instinctual, primal, and so very sudden. Once he realized his obsession, he supposed that it was just the way of things. Flies go to honey, moths chase the light, and Edward Nashton occupies every available thought with his breathtaking coworker. Now though, as he’s speeding down Gotham’s dreary side streets, he finally gets it.

All he’s ever seen in people is their worst. Why else would he spend so much energy cleansing the city of its scum?

But no matter how much time he spent observing you, listening to you, reading your work, or turning you over and around and inside out in his mind, there wasn’t a single flaw that presented itself. Not even your mortal shortcomings sounded any alarm in his head. It was maddening, trying to find something he could theoretically dislike about you, anything to shake this schoolboy crush that had manifested in his conscience, because nothing ever came to light. You’d only ever been kind to him. You’d only ever been beautiful. You’d only ever been absolutely perfect.

And he knew you’d always be. Even in death, he knew that this version of you that is forever preserved in his mind is just as perfect and real as when you were alive. That’s the conclusion he comes to as he sits in his usual spot across from your apartment tonight, staring up into your window and mumbling his shaky apologies under his breath.

It hasn’t set in yet. The room is dark, and the curtains are drawn. You aren’t home.

He lets himself fall quiet as he listens to the city around him. How empty it seems without you in it. The radio babbles on to fill the silence.

…inside a van on the intersection at Grange and Main, six officers and three civilians were hospitalized. While one of the officers has reportedly succumbed to his injuries, his name has not yet been released to the public…

He stares at the radio system, breath picking up.

He saw the aftermath of the explosion. The sheer sprawl of the immediate blast should have killed anyone within a radius of seven feet. According to his evaluation, he expected at the very least three deaths on-site and five more officer hospitalizations. His brow furrowed, deep in thought, as he ran through the events of the night.

He parked his car in position. Law enforcement arrived. They called for an ambulance. EMT discovers the dummy. They opened up the van. He hesitated, but he detonated the bomb.

He hesitated.

He hesitated.

“Oh my God,” he breathes, eyes wide with disbelief, “It didn’t work. It didn’t fucking work.”

With trembling fingers, he shoves the key back into the ignition and starts the car again. The radio continues.

…no civilian deaths have been reported, and the three victims remain in stable condition. In other news, Gotham and surrounding cities will be seeing a temperature drop…

《♡》《♡》《♡》《♡》《♡》《♡》《♡》

PART TWO

[skaldish]

I'll level with y'all on this—I've been focusing on my store a lot because I'm trying to find an additional source of income in the face of disability.

To the shock of no one, I'm a web designer by trade. My background lies in writing and art. It's not lost on me how much I can do with my skillset...but there's also not a lot I can do outside of it.

A few years ago, I started developing chronic soft tissue damage in my dominant hand due to daily computer-work for my job. This, combined with my rapidly-declining mental health due to the pandemic, forced me to move from full-time to contract with my current employer so I wouldn't completely destroy my body or my mind.

I'm blessed that I live in a state that with quality state health insurance. My living expenses are extremely low and I don't need to make a whole lot to squeak by.

However, I now live with a permanent physical limitation, which limits what I can do on a day-to-day basis. Because of this, I've started to look into setting up long-term investments. This includes literal economic investments like stocks and bonds, but also in projects that will sort of just...semi-run themselves after I put in the work needed to get them going.

Given my skillset, e-commerce is perfect for this.

Let me tell you all a little secret. Setting upon an online store and selling things is stupidly, ridiculously easy. It's even more ludicrously easy when you know how to use what I call "rich people tools"—the kind of online marketing solutions wholeass companies use to advertise and grow.

These tools run like a well-oiled machine. Everything about them is about minimizing effort while maximizing profit. Most so-called "social media," like twitter, facebook, and pinterest? They all integrate with these tools seamlessly, because the true purpose of these websites is to be marketing platforms for business owners, so they can deliver their ads directly to people's eyeballs in environments where their guards are down.

It's actually pretty fucking disgusting.

(I've always hated advertisements and the culture that surrounded them. It's why I don't try to push products too heavily here even though I know I can queue up a million reblogs for them. Knowing what I know now just makes me hate it all even more.)

But anyway, for the last month or so, I've been thrown into an ethical dilemma. I don't want to, and never wanted to, monetize Skald's Keep. Its purpose is to be a free website that competes against the monetization and commercialization of Heathenry.

But it's also supposed to be a trustworthy website. By having a store that clearly sells a plethora of direct-to-consumer products, it looks like I have ulterior motivations, and that's not what I'd call trustworthy.

And yet, I need a livelihood, and e-commerce is the strongest play I've got.

Fortunately, I think I figured out my own problem just by hashing things out here—I need to start my own business separate from Skald's Keep. An entirely different website altogether that's clearly just a store, one I can market to hell and back with the disgusting tools capitalism built for itself without sacrificing my intentions for Skald's Keep.

As for the current Skald's Keep store? I think it would be a BALLER idea to turn it into a hub for indie pagan publications—a place to feature all the devotionals, guides, and workbooks I see so many people here make but don't have one place to put 'em.

It would be stupidly easy too. The product entries can link off to whatever platform you're hosting your book on; lulu, amazon, etc. All you'll have to do is give me the link to your book, the image of the book cover, and the paragraph description, and I'll plug it all in. That way, I can showcase the work of the community without necessarily needing to "recommend" it for educational reasons. You'd basically just take advantage of my high-ranking results on google.

It will also create a library where people can easily find non-Folkish stuff, which takes money away from them and puts it in the hands of the average pagan.

Yes, I think this is the plan y'all. We will have our cake and eat it too.

Thanks for being such a great audience and for putting up with my hair-brained shenanigans as I was working through this. <3

[closetednobody]

You know, watching like all of last season and then this I keep finding myself going ‘Maya knows there are other fire departments right’ cause it’s pretty clear she’s not gonna be treated well in SFD even before the blackmailing. Before the blackmail her online ‘wrong’ was literally saving a kids life. So yeah, Maya is my favorite character but I can’t help but wonder why not just get another job?

Hello OP! I want to apologize first as I'm about to go all nerdy about this because i loooove your question~ ☺️ this is one of the most common dilemma at any work place too : "why don't you leave?"/"why can't i leave?" - either switching jobs/career or switching workplace.

Generally, there are 7 answers/questions that i would look for/ask in this type of conversations.

Do they feel valued? In the sense that do you feel respected and appreciated in your current environment or while doing your current job.

Are they micromanaged by their manager? Do you feel like you are being monitored all. the. time. up to an extent that you feel suffocated or anxious.

Are they constantly stressed and unhappy? Do they have a unique passion for their field? What is the source of their stress? Funny enough, we can be swamped by tasks and STILL feel happy and contented with our job.

Are they growing? Is there any potential for them in the position? Are they interested in growth? Or do they prefer comfort?

Are they paid enough?

Do they have enough tools and resources to carry out their tasks?

Are they chronically disengaged from their work environment? And why?

If there are more yes-es, then no-s, then most likely they would subconciously stay where they are despite being unhappy. For the no-s, i will need to know : how long have they felt it and when did it start and maybe, why, AND can it be fixed?

Depending on their personality, sometimes, even if there's only one yes, they would still stay and endure. E.g. from personal observation, for hyper-achievers, if the answer for Q4 is a yes, nothing else matters.

I could write a book for each item, but let me not do that 😅 and i believe you could roughly guess the context of each item.

I definitely do not oppose the idea of Maya moving to another station or even change careers (and get a Marina spin-off).

But let's try to deep dive into Maya's case, on why she stays.

First, i would divide her career in the series into 4 phases :

Pre-captaincy

Captaincy : 1st phase (with objection from her best friend), 2nd phase (with team acceptance)

Demotion

You can try to analyze her too! What do you think the answers for each item of each phase would be? Why? And what do the changes mean?

You will probably be able to presume why she stayed in each phase and why.

But, in her situation right now, she probably has more No-s. And a Yes, e.g. for Q4, is probably her main source of frustration, because despite having the room and potential for growth, she is facing what seems to be a dead end because of an unfair treatment. And because she is driven and has a unique passion for her job, it would affect her even more.

Trauma response is also a contributing factor on why she won't choose to run away and, instead, choose to muscle her way to her finish line.

She was an abused kid who won an Olympic gold medal for her country on a sprained ankle. She was an excellent athlete and she was trained to win. She stepped wrong and sprained her ankle; but she has a finish line and nothing else at stake.

Eyes forward. All that matters is the finish line.

She is now an excellent firefighter and she was the youngest female captain. She was demoted for insubordination which saved a kid's life. All she needed was a fair trial, a hearing, for her to be heard and maybe get her captaincy back. Her finish line.

But she made a wrong move and now, she is abused by her superiors. A sprained ankle.

She has a finish line. It's right there. But why is it blurred?

Oh. She's an adult now. And the world is never a plain track. It's a battlefield. And now, everything seems to be at stake.

😌

----------

To conclude, it's important for us to be aware of our thoughts and reasons when making choices in life. But we also need to accept that there are no such thing as a perfect decision. There is always opportunity cost to every call we make. Career decisions are one of the simplest, but most complicated and illogical decisions we need to make.

Just like Maya, sometimes we need to refocus and evaluate :

Eyes forward. All that matters is...?

[kiridarling]

𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂!

izuku midoriya | tw!guns, single mom!reader, bouncer!izuku, domestic stuffs, tit sucking, mommy!calling ah, AND daddy!calling oh my, breeding kink, breaking the bed (futon). minors dni!

— 5.4k words

“When’s the last time someone touched you like this, hmm?”

The alley is dark.

There's a disconcerting feeling as you step deeper into the quiet darkness,

You turn to look at the door you entered this dank place from, but it's just as dark and grimy as the walls. You're almost positive that if you rested a hand against them, it would return pitch black, and if you stood in one spot for more than five minutes, the sticky booze would glue your heels to the floor. You're surprised when it doesn't.

"Hand over your wallet and no one gets hurt, pretty lady."

He's a smarmy looking bastard and as thin as they come. It’s clear this isn’t something he does on the regular, the pointed gun quivering so much you worry a trembling might slip and pull the trigger. And you fucking freeze, blood running below zero and heart plummeting because why you?

And fuck, you’ve got a kid at home with a babysitter, and there are many outcomes to this situation, none of them too cute.

"I said hand it over," he grunts, pressing forwards. Your back hits the grimy brick wall as your eyes dart to the mouth of the alley, where life continues, where cars race past, but no one sees a damn thing. Fuck. Fuck.

And it's not like you have much—hell, you may be a mother, but you know how to party. You squeeze your eyes shut, grip tightening around your purse as you clumsily fumble through it and the man steps closer. You toss all you have to his feet. A fucking twenty. He raises an eyebrow before eyeing your watch. He lets out an unimpressed snort.

"That it?"

You nod, taking a shaky step back.

"Well, that ain't fuckin' enough."

There's a click and you're positive it's him turning off the safety. His face twists like he's about to shoot a bullseye, and you squeeze your eyes as tight as they can go.

Until the looming shadow of the stranger disappears, followed by a sound that's distinctly skin on skin. Er—skin on bone.

You don't watch the fight. Frankly, you don't want to, and you still get to hear your protector spew a litany of curses and disrespectful phrases that should really only come from someone's mother. You don't even open your eyes, still screwed shut with a vice grip around your purse and wallet.

"Um, excuse me Miss? Are you alright?"

Your protector's eyes are much bigger than you expect them to be—and green. You realize you remember seeing those eyes, hardened from across the club.

He's hesitant to touch you, hands rising and falling and rising again. Though you suppose a hug seems like it'd be a little abrasive, it also sounds like the exact kind of thing you need right now.

"U-Um, yeah I'm..." you start, before noticing your attackers body bloodied and wrapped like a pretzel on the ground. "...Fine..."

He sounds like he's going to pass out—he doesn't.

"We should um, we should get you home," As he speaks, the greenette shuffles you out of the alley and into the streetlamp light, blinking himself out of something before holding a meaty hand out of formality. "I'm Izuku by the way. Izuku Midoriya."

For such a big guy, Izuku seems rather timid, and yet, seeing him at the entrance with crossed arms in a black tee and a scowl in the club doesn't give you much insight into his personality. Which makes you wonder why he became the club's bouncer in the first place.

"Um, nice to meet you," you nod, trying to suppress the shake in your hands as you take his. "Y/N."

Izuku smiles at that, and even though you're a regular, you've never actually seen him beam on the job. "Cool! Cool, so...um, I don't really feel comfortable letting you walk home...alone..."

You nod—he panics as if you aren't already on board.

"'Cause it's like, a conscience thing, you know? Like, I really won't be able to sleep tonight otherwise," Izuku defends, shoving a clumsy hand in his green curls. "B-But if you don't feel comfortable with it, or something, that's totally fine! I know what you just experienced was horrible, and you probably do—"

"Izuku."

"Yeah?" He perks up. It seems as if the circuit his mind runs finally comes to a stop.

"I'd...feel more comfortable if you walked me home. Too."

Your innards ache at the stiffness in both your voice and figure, but Izuku doesn't seem to notice. Instead, he beams, standing ten feet taller, and you think—yeah. You'd feel much safer if he did.

"O-Okay! Cool!" He confirms a bit stiff himself, and then, in a smoother motion, holds his hand out to take. "Shall we?"

Your red palm claps over his, and you snort quietly, "We shall."

You two walk in a surprisingly comfortable silence for the beginning of the walk—you lead the way and he silently trails behind, glaring daggers at any passerby with lingering eyes as you march on, unknowing.

"So um, do you come to Club 777 often?"

Which is a question you know he knows the answer to, completely aware you almost come every Saturday. But you smile at his attempt to start a conversation anyways, hands tucking underneath your armpits in search of warmth.

"Yeah, sometimes. Just trying to get out and stuff. Y'know, away from the kid."

"I get that," he nods with a smile, before tugging at the hem of his hoodie. "Oh! Are you cold? Here—wait, let me."

He shucks it over your head and your positive it messes up your hair. But you find that you don't care much, especially in favor of the warmth that it provides.

And then, "You have a kid?"

"Yep," you say, tucking your fists into the jacket pockets. "A big two-year-old potato waits for me back home."

"Oh," Izuku chortles at your description before tucking his hands into his jean pockets too. Licking his lips, his eyes dart to the street, "I...assume your boyfriend watches him for the night? Or husband or whoever."

"Uhm, not quite," you chuckle towards your feet, though it's a touch acrid. Izuku picks up on it immediately.

"Oh I'm so sorr—I didn't kno—"

"It's fine, Izuku really—"

"I—but I shouldn't even be assuming what if you had a wife or girlfriend or—" he takes a second to gasp, and your eyes widen in fear that he'll choke, "—or if they're nonbinary or—"

"Izuku," you knock him on the shoulder and he finally shuts up. "It's fine. I get it all the time."

He falters, but at least he seems to relax. "Really?"

"Yes," you giggle behind a hand, and the greenette smiles at it.

"O-Okay, cool."

Flecks of gold swim in Izuku's green irises and you find yourself noticing them now, suppressing the urge to advance closer for a better look. You stare long enough to watch his smile relax into a comfortable line, but you snap out of it once he kicks a rock, the sound of the gravel skittering across the floor tugging you out of your reverie.

"I'm not very good with kids, y'know," he says as an afterthought. You snort.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean," he scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. "Like what am I supposed to feed it? French fries?"

"Toddlers aren't it's, Izu." You can't tell if he flushes from the nickname or from what you said, but either way, it's enough to prompt another laugh. "And maybe start with baby food?"

"Ah," Izuku nods, and you guide him in turning a corner. "That would make sense.

"It would."

By the time you stop in front of your red front door, it's almost three am. You figure you caught Izuku right after he got off work, if the cheesy All Might sweatshirt you're wearing is any evidence of that, but either way, he looks like he's about to fall flat on his face.

"You can stay for the night, if you want," you offer, albeit meekly, and Izuku lifts two hands with insistence.

"Oh! No no no please, I'm fine," he shakes his head so quickly his curls bounce in a flurry, and you genuinely worry he's going to pass out when he tries to blink himself awake. "Just...not used to staying up this late is all."

"Then stay," you offer with a shrug, and your orange porch light flickers. "It's the least I can do. I've got a bed and a futon, and I'm fine with sleeping on either."

"I..." Izuku's green eyes flicker towards your door before back to you, "I really shouldn't. I'm a stranger an—"

"And I'm offering."

Izuku's eyebrows fold with the dilemma, but you grab his hand with a tug and a smile, while your free one shoves the keys into the door. "C'mon. Let's get you some rest, yeah?"

You can't tell if Izuku blushes or if it's just the lighting, but either way, his chest inflates in protest before deflating in resignation.

"Okay."

With a smile, you turn the doorknob. Your door has always taken some shoulder to get open, so you don't hesitate in shoving your collarbone into the hardwood. Izuku cringes at the sight.

"Mama!"

Your hit in the legs first, nearly stumbling back with a quiet oof. You look down to see Max wrapped around your legs like you're a fucking jungle gym, grinning with two missing teeth and a bandaid over his nose.

It's three am.

"I'm done," your babysitter grunts. "He doesn't listen when I tell him to bathe, eat, anything—I fucking quit."

And with that, they slam the door behind them, house rattling under the pressure. You sigh. There goes another one. Fuck.

"Well that wasn't very nice," Izuku grumbles under his breath disapprovingly. You smile at the arms crossed over his chest until Max peeks around your legs to see...

"A new daddy?"

"I—no, baby," you fight the embarrassment (and the urge to say you fucking wish) by picking the little one up by his armpits, smiling when he thrusts his hands in the air and goes weee! After he's comfortably cradled in your arms, you say, "He's just staying the night."

"Like daddy did!" Max defends with a giggle before rushing the greenette with open arms. Izuku just looks at you with a shrug before kneeling to take a hug to the chest as Max chants, "New daddy! New daddy!"

And, well. There's no stopping him now.

You peel your heels off your cramping feet and sigh at the fucking freedom, toes uncurling from the scrunched position it feels like they've been holding the entire night. You curse under your breath when you realize since Max is awake you've got to put him to bed too, and honestly, if you knew this babysitter was going to be just as useless as the others, you would've just let Max run fucking free while you lived life for a few hours. Not like that outcome would be any better.

"Alright Maxie, c'mon."

You take him away from his celebration with the greenette and though he pouts, he allows his mother to gather him in her arms.

"Do you um, need help?"

You turn to see Izuku awkwardly shifting in the doorway from the request, hands behind his back with pursed lips. You shake your head.

"Oh no, it's fine. I just have to put him down really quickly and then I'll be—"

"Mama, I'm hungry. I want chicken nuggies." Max loops his arms around your neck and tugs so hard you worry about your bones. You shake your head with a sigh and a pout.

"It's too late for you to be up, bud. You can have chicken nuggies for lunch tomorrow. Sound like a plan?"

But goodness. In this state, it'll take hours for him to relax—and you still have to unfold the futon for Izuku.

Max whines and kicks his legs but doesn't say no, meaning he's not really that hungry, he just wants to stay awake. "But—but what if new daddy's gone in the morning like the last one?"

Fuck.

"Max," you sigh, giving him a light shake so his matching eyes look into you yours. You speak a little softer, "Izuku's not your new daddy, okay? He's a houseguest."

Max's face drops. "Not eve—"

"No, Maxie," you sigh, squeezing him on the shoulder. "Now let's go to bed, okay?"

"I can—I can put him down if you'd like! So you can get into something more comfortable and stuff. I mean, I've never worn a dress but sweats are so much better, you know? Or shorts, or...whatever you wear to sleep."

You understand the many points he's trying to get across, one being that's he's not a creep, just a nice guy, and you suppose you and Max can live in your "new daddy" fantasy for a little longer. Even if you know this one will be gone by morning.

"Um, okay yeah," you say, voice a little thin, before handing your child over to the greenette—who bounces into his arms excitedly. "I'll be back, then? His room is down the hall to the right. The one with the race car bed."

Izuku's eyes narrow as he processes your directions. "Down the hall to the right—okay! I'll just go take this little guy to bed, then."

"Okay, thank you," you nearly bow, because Izuku just saved both of you so much time and he doesn't even understand how. "Oh! And good luck."

"Good...luck?"

"Yep!" You say with a wink and a pat on the back before scooping your heels and booking it back to your bedroom with a cackle. Time to get out of this dress. Fucking finally.

You realize that being alone is much more unsettling when you've had a gun held to your head today.

Every little noise just seems off, like it could belong to something more than it actually does, even the silence; you find yourself shoving your head through your t-shirt abnormally fast, eyes blinking to take a survey of the room to ensure that you're alone. You are. It's fine.

And that's what you tell yourself when you close your eyes to run a wet rag over your face, and again with the dry one. All of a sudden, you don't like the way your bathroom window faces the open backyard nor do you like how dark it is outside. You don't like how big your bed looks, and goddammit, you haven't even gotten into it yet.

Pushing all uneasy thoughts aside, you stumble out of your bedroom with a fresh face and a new outfit, stilling in Max's doorway when the greenette doesn't notice you. Resting against the frame with crossed arms, you smile.

"I do so like green eggs and ham! Thank you! Thank you, Sam-I-am. You know, when I was a kid I—oh, he's asleep."

Izuku tucks the snoring boy in his lap under the covers with a gentle grin, pulling them underneath his chin. The greenette takes a second, watches Max's chest rise and fall a few times, before ruffling the tuft of hair on his head with a snort, and walking away.

You don't even think Izuku sees you until he practically sashays out the door, winking, "Good luck, huh?"

To say you go red in the face from that is an understatement.

"How do you do this?"

"Do what?" You ask as you pulling the futon in your living room forwards. Izuku yawns before gesturing to the clock with a shake of his head.

"Take care of a kid, and work, and go to a bar every Saturday evening? It's four am, and something tells me you've been up for a while. I'm practically dead and I wake up at one pm every day!"

You chuckle at that, jumping on the bed with your hands and knees to ensure its lays flat...and ensure that it won't make an Izuku sandwich at seven in the morning. "You build up stamina after a while, I guess."

"No shit," he gestures to you as you utilize the entire length of your body to put the sheets on the mattress. He would help, but you told him no, insisting that he'd only make this take longer. "Are you sure you do—"

"Nope," you huff, clapping your hands together. "I'm done."

Izuku blinks at the made bed, to you, to the made bed again, and then back to you with wide eyes.

"Mommy magic."

"I—" you blink towards the ceiling to see if that even makes sense, but you figure fuck it, it's four am, with a snort. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you want to call it."

In reality, you feel like you're about to pass out.

"Um, so I don't really have pj pants and I don't think you'll have any that'll fit, so..."

"Yeah no, I definitely burned all the shit my ex left—"

"Aha okay, cool, um, so just boxers...are fine...?"

He looks down at his black jeans and back to you, raising an eyebrow. You toss a nonchalant shrug in return, and you hate to say it, but your inner school girl goes—dick outline.

"O-Okay, then," Izuku says, and you watch his hands curl around the waistband. "I'm just gonna—"

He shucks his pants so hard they hit the floor, and your eyes widen because...well...looks like he's just gonna do it then.

Until Izuku's hands rush to cover his crotch (which you weren't peeking at, you weren't) and you realize that maybe you should've stepped out of the room or something.

"U-Um—that was fast—"

"I thought—thought you were going to uhm, turn around," he flushes, a funny contrast to the way his muscles fold under that black shirt, and your feet move to turn around like he ordered you to do it.

"Sorry! So sorry," you try to apologize, but now his dick print is burned in your brain, and...it isn't that bad.

"It—It's fine! I'm in the bed now so, you can turn around."

You laugh awkwardly and scuffle to turn, as you do, and Izuku beams at you from the bed with a wave.

"Hi," he says, his lower half-tucked under the covers. You wave back.

"Hi."

Izuku's eyes dart to you living room tv before the come back to you. "So uhm, I guess this is goodnight?"

"Oh right," you perk up at that, hands rubbing the sides of your thighs like there's something on them. "Time to go to bed, right?"

"Uh, yeah!" He nods, chest shuddering before he says, "so uh, sweet dreams?"

You smile tight at the kind gesture, and your hands opt to pull at the hem of your shirt instead, eyes drifting to an old pile of records you haven't regarded in months. "Thanks! You...too?"

Izuku smiles, though his eyes drift, "Yeah..."

You beam back. You figure you should probably go now, or something, until you think of something and slam a fist into your palm. "Oh! Also, I meant to thank you for saving me. I'm not sure if I did that. Did I do that?"

The greenette shrugs, "Uh, I think so?"

"Okay! Okay. Cool," you nod, flashing a tight smile. "Mmk. Night Izuku."

"G'night."

And see, you would move—except it seems as if your feet are glued to the floor and won't move no matter how hard you try, to the point where it feels like your straining and they're going numb, and yet you're still staring at Izuku's pretty fucking face.

"C'mon," he chuckles, scooting over on the futon to make extra space for you. "If you take all day, the beds gonna get cold, and then I'm going to have to crawl into yours like a creep."

"Oh my fucking god," you snort one breath and move to flick off the lights before stumbling through the darkness for the futon. "You're so weird."

"Weird in a good way, I hope," he lifts the blanket and you slide under—and swear your knee grazes his before it's snatched away.

"There's no weird in a bad way," you say once you've settled comfortably, tucking your hands under your head as you lay on your stomach. Izuku mimics your position, though he takes up much more of the blanket, and you find that it drapes over you like a tent over his shoulders. Neither of you close your eyes, for some reason.

"Hi," Izuku whispers.

"Hi," you smile back.

"Okay," he huffs, face twisting in determination, "Now it's goodnight."

"Right," you nod, but your eyes don't close. "Goodnight. Of course."

"Don't let the bedbugs bite," he says with a chuckle, and you can't tell if his eyes flicker to your lips or if you imagine it. Either way, you look them just in case.

"I better not have bedbugs," you snort. "I clean this place like a motherfucker."

Izuku's nose twitches at that with a nod. Moonlight pours into your living room and colors his pale skin silver, though you figure it won't take the sun much longer to color it a strawberry pink. "You really do. It's...different when it's quiet."

"Yeah," you agree, placing your hands on his chest. It shudders under your palms. "Kinda personal, huh?"

"Mhm," he nods, and though his hands wrap around your wrists, they never pull them away. You lift an eyebrow.

"A bad personal?"

Izuku doesn't hesitate, breath nearly ghosting your lips as he says, "Hardly."

"Would you..." now it's your chests turn to shudder, and sliding a hand up to play with his ear, you bite the bullet. "Like to get more personal?"

Izuku's lips melt into a grin against yours, "I'd love to."

His lips are softer than you thought.

Maybe because you assumed all of him was a bumbling mess, including his chapstick application; but they're fucking pillow-soft, and you don't realize how deprived you are until his hold around your body turns from protective to sensual and you melt from his heat.

"Fuck," Izuku huffs between kisses, growling when your grip around his neck tightens. "Watching you from across the club for weeks can do a thing to a guy's patience, you know."

"Oh?" You snort as he presses enthusiastic open-mouthed kisses down the column of your neck, hot and wet, and painful once his teeth dig into your collarbone. "A-Ah, Izuku—no marks."

"O-Oh! Sorry," he pulls away, lips red and swollen, and shiny with spit. You smile at the reaction.

"'S okay, Baby," you giggle at the speed to which his muscles go lax, and his eyes droop to your chest when you scratch the back of his head.

"Can I—can I suck your tits?"

He asks so bashfully it's nearly innocent, and you find your eyes dropping to your chest along with his before you're ditching his All Might sweatshirt all together.

"God," Izuku's eyes flutter as he gathers your breasts in both palms, groaning at the sight. "They're fucking perfect."

You shudder as his thumb ghosts a nipple, and Izuku dips an experimental hand under your lacy bra and pinches. Hard.

Your thighs jolt and hands fist the sheets, and a moan comes from the back of your throat before you can stop it. Izuku's hand rocket to cover your mouth.

"Shh—you don't wanna wake him up, do you?"

You shake your head, but it's hard to keep quiet when your nipples are as sensitive as they are. Izuku doesn't seem like he really means that statement, though, lowering his head with a devilish grin as if he knows that for himself.

“Sensitive, Mommy?”

“O-Oh um,” you flush at the nickname, and even more so when his lips close around your nipple and suck. Tangling a hand in his hair, you sigh, “Yeah, a little.”

Izuku hums at that, eyes fluttering to watch you bite your bottom lip in a poor attempt to muffle a moan, hissing as his teeth dig into the hardened bud. He pulls off with a slurp and moves to the other, but not without a few kisses across your chest.

“When’s the last time someone touched you like this, hmm?” Izuku nearly growls out before biting into the opposite nipple, and you shudder as he dips a scarred hand down the waistband of your shorts and panties. He chuckles after sliding a finger through your slit. “So wet for me.”

“It—It’s been a second,” you sigh, grip tightening around his shoulders as he slides a finger in. Even Izuku has to bite a lip at your tightness in anticipation, mouth descending over your nipple once more to send frissons of fire up your spine.

“No shit,” he grunts around your nipple, curling his finger. You gasp. “Think I can fit another one in there?”

“Why don’t you try?” You giggle, but it dissipates into nothing but air as he does, his two fingers filling you up enough to elicit a sigh.

“How’s that?” He breathes, face hovering over yours. As your hands coil around his neck, his free one reaches for your inner thigh and pulls it back far enough to give him a better angle as he presses you into the mattress.

“Good, it’s good,” you nod, and your hips start to move on their own, bucking forwards as if there’s any more finger left for you to fuck. (Spoiler: there’s not.)

“Good,” he breathes, eyes going glossy as he watches you writhe under him. You're positive that you're carving painful red lines into his back, but considering the way his eyebrows fold every time you do, makes you wonder if he doesn't mind. "Fuck I can't wait to fuck you—I can fuck you, right?"

"No Izuku, I'm just letting you finger me for fu-u—fuck."

He slides in a third finger and for some reason, it burns a little—but the burn only makes your eyes roll further, and he's stuffing you with a chuckle.

"What was that?"

"I-I—you're not pla—playing very fair," you huff, chest shuddering as he tilts your hips higher for a better angle. You suppress a scream when his fingers curl, jolting forwards at such a speed it makes the futon creak. Izuku tightens his grip around your waist to keep you from going too far.

"No one said anything about being fair, Mommy," he teases, and you whine when he removes his fingers, tapping them against your lips. "C'mon, you gotta get 'em wet so I can fuck you, right?"

You nod at the idea, enjoying the idea of being filled up much more, and coat his fingers to the point where they're dripping when he pulls him out. Izuku's chest rumbles.

"So good for me," he purrs, using your spit to coat his cock before he's sliding his head between your folds—you shiver, grabbing onto his back again. "Ready?"

“Mhm,” you nod, spreading your legs further—though you swear they do that on their own.

“Oh my, you’re um...tight...”

You whimper from the stretch and look between your legs, eyes widening upon seeing that Izuku’s much bigger than you had anticipated. Or had been warned of.

“F-Fuck, I can’t—“

“Shhhh, it’s okay, just a little more, okay?” Izuku nearly whispers into your lips as his hands move to rub your shuddering sides. Your eyes screw shut, “Jus’ a little more, Mommy...”

Izuku pushes deeper and you’re being split in half—because what else could that burn be—but you’ll admit, the feeling of accomplishment you receive once he bottoms out is surreal.

“Good—Good girl,” Izuku’s nearly quivering and plants his hands on both sides of your head with a huff.

“I-Izu,” you whimper as he starts to move, feeling impossibly full no matter how far he pulls out. Izuku shudders, mouth rounding into an ‘o’ when his hips slowly start to gain rhythm, and though it’s loud, you know the creak of the futon is unavoidable. You squeal as his head hammers into your cervix, pulling out a wanton Daddy before you have half a mind to shut the fuck up. You nearly freeze, and yet, all Izuku’s hips do is speed up.

“Yeah? Want me to be your new Daddy?” He moans, and you dig your nails into his back with a nod. The greenette curses at that, biting his bottom lip and his hand drops between your legs to rub at your clit. With thighs seizing around his waist, you slam a hand over your mouth to keep yourself quiet.

“Fuck—I make you feel that good, Mommy?” Izuku nearly wheezes, eyes suppressing the urge to screw closed, “So good you can’t keep your pretty mouth shut?”

“Y-Yeah, I—“ you gasp when he lifts your hips off the bed for a better angle, hands fisting the sheets. “Harder, Daddy—“

“Oh Mommy, if I go any harder I think I might break this bed,” he says, borderline bashful, but you find yourself saying fuck the bed as your hips buck in search of a feeling he refuses to give you. Izuku’s chuckle strains as he says, “So needy, Mommy. You that needy for my cum?”

Clawing at his back, you try your damnest to stutter out a yes. Izuku chuckles at your desperation before he cuts himself off with a groan, eyes rocketing to where you’re both connected as you tighten around him.

“F-Fill me up, I wanna—“

“You want another baby, Mommy?” Izuku pants, and you’re so close you start to feel a buzz in your thighs, praying he isn’t too far behind. You nod vehemently with a gasp and his lips slide into an exhausted smile, "Fuck, of course you do—and you’re gonna take me so well, aren’t you? All of it.”

Izuku finishes his sentence with a growl, pressing you further into the mattress—it squeaks like a squeaky wheel, and when it thunks a level lower both of you yelp, the back of the futon thumping on your hardwood floor with each thrust.

“Told ya,” Izuku wheezes, eyes scrunching in a chuckle. You return it.

“It—It’s old anyway,” you reply, but your eyebrows fold as quickly as they unfold from the crash. The creaking futon increases in pitch as his hips pick up the pace, “Fuck—fuck Izuku I’m gonna cum.”

“What’s my name?” The greenette challenges, and you find yourself shivering at the dominance he exudes. The finger on your clit disappears and you whine, knowing damn well you can’t cum without it.

“Daddy—Daddy please—“

“Good—fuck, so good for me,” his hand returns to your clit and you sigh at the feeling. As the coil in your gut threatens to snap, his hips speed up, and Izuku pants, “We’re gonna cum together, yeah? Cum with me Mommy, c’mon—“

“Fuck!” You drag red lines down Izuku’s back as you quake under the weight of your orgasm, broken bed whining as Izuku thrusts all his weight into you. Digging his teeth into your shoulder, the greenette cums with a broken moan, hips stuttering into yours for the final time that night.

The room fills with a comfortable silence, minus the panting, and Izuku rolls onto the mattress next to you with a bounce. It creaks, whines, and then drops again, catching both you and the greenette by surprise. (Again.)

“I think—I think we broke it,” Izuku says towards the ceiling as he catches his breath. You giggle at that, hands laid across your sweaty stomach, and turn to him with your head in the pillow.

“Gives me an excuse to buy a new one,” you say with a shrug. Izuku chuckles back.

“I guess,” he teeters his head to both sides. “I can...also pitch in, if you want. Since I broke the thing. Technically.”

His offer sounds apprehensive as if he’s encroaching in your space, as if he hasn’t been all up in your space less than a minute ago. You smile. “I’d like that a lot, actually. Thanks.”

"And um, breakfast? I mean," he snorts, though it seems rather defensive, and his eyes rocket to the ticking clock on your wall. Your eyes follow: five am. "I mean—fuck um, I feel like this might be weird but I think you're cool? Um, yeah, so breakfast, I can make it if you want because you're so busy being motherly and stuff and plus, it's Sunday but again, if you don't wan—"

"Izuku," you giggle, wrapping your arms around his gut with a little squeeze. "Breakfast sounds nice."

The greenette beams and his chest stutters. "O-Okay cool! Cool, cool. Breakfast then?"

You snort, driving your palm into his face to shut him the fuck up. "Goodnight, Izuku."

Izuku giggles, getting the message, and coils his arms around your shoulders to provide a comfort you haven't felt in a very, very long time.

"G'night Mommy."