#the roommate agreement

[friendlyneighborhoodslut]

The Roommate Agreement | 3-The Agreement.

Pairing(s)/Tropes—Eventual Steve Harrington X Reader, slow burn.

Summary—Three boys and one girl under one roof proves to be more difficult than they thought. To restore peace in the land, an agreement is made.

Warnings/Extras—strong language, drinking and smoking, bugs, sexual tension, MDNI-18+! Let me know if I missed anything!

MASTERLIST | | PREVIOUS PART | | NEXT PART

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

Jesse was a very messy individual when he lived in 406D. The baseboards are caked with dust, the windows have a strange film on them and the carpet is littered with mysterious stains. I spend several days deploying an arsenal of chemicals to tackle the mess, windows open and chill August air drafting through the room. After a particularly grueling day on my hands and knees scrubbing at the spots on the floor to very little prevail, I decide that a quick spray of disinfectant before covering it with a rug is my best bet. I dig through the closet in the hallway for a broom to dust the cobwebs in the corners, coming up empty-handed.

“Boys,” I breathe, entering the living room. The three of them sit in the living room, smooshed onto the couch and flipping through TV channels. They perk up to look at me. “Where’s the broom?”

“In the trash, along with the mop after Eddie and Jesse used them to joust,” Steve says casually, clicking buttons on the remote.

“I won, by the way,” Eddie grins, pointing at himself.

Steve looks to him, bewildered. “You did not.”

“Right. I’ve gotta go check on the storage unit anyways so, I’m going to run to the store and pick up some furniture and supplies that are for cleaning only,” I give Eddie a pointed look and he rolls his eyes. “Anyone care to lend a hand?”

“We’ll take my car,” Ben stands, brushing some crumbs off his shirt from the chips he was munching on.

“Your little Mazda’s not gonna fit everything…” I trail off, raising my brow at Eddie.

He scoffs. “Oh, okay. So we all hate Gloria until she’s useful,”

“You named the van? You weirdo.” Steve says, eyes never leaving the TV.

The van—Gloria—really is a disgrace to motor vehicles everywhere. It’s a death box on wheels. I’m pretty sure the engine is powered by dust and spite, and it’s got this rattle when left idling for too long. I’m not sure how a mechanic lets his own car get so out of shape—But Gloria’s got space, and we’re gonna need it.

“Alright, fine. But no one drives my babygirl but me, so… I’m coming with you,” Eddie stretches out of his seat.

Steve stands too, running his hands through his hair. I swallow hard and try not to stare at them.

“Our first adventure as a family, how exciting!” Eddie exasperates dramatically, arms outstretched at his sides.

“Shut up, man.” Steve snickers, grabbing Eddie’s keys out of a glass bowl by the front door and tossing them at him. Eddie catches the keys, blowing a kiss to Steve afterwards, earning him a cacophony of groans and eye rolls.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

The car wobbles side to side, tossing me around in my seat. Eddie swerves all over the road like a maniac, dodging pot holes and probably a few stray animals. Ben sits in the front seat, yelling at him. Steve and I occupy the back seat on opposite sides. My whole body burns and tingles, my palms sweat as I chew on my nails and stare out the window. I swear can feel his eyes on me but I’m too terrified to look, as I might just combust on sight if I’m right.

It’s been a century since I’ve had a crush on someone. I’ve forgotten how miserable it is: constantly checking that my hair looks okay, hoping my makeup hasn’t smudged, scared to even breathe wrong.

This sucks ass.

A massive cement building comes into view and we pull into the parking lot. The department store is surprisingly empty on this Sunday afternoon, and Ben tells me it’s because most people in Chicago are already out drinking this time of day.

Steve pipes in with his agreement and I make the mistake of stealing a look at him. I just can’t help myself, but I immediately regret it. He’s already looking at me, hair tussled to one side and mustard sweater bunched up at his midsection as he leans against the backrest, lips parted slightly and staring at me with those big brown eyes.

I’m doomed.

The vacant isles of the store are illuminated by an uncomfortable white light that occasionally flickers. I feel like we’re in a low-budget horror movie, an unsettling and eerie feeling sitting thick over the air. Feeling suffocated, I pick up my pace towards the Home and Kitchen section.

“Look at this fuckin’ thing,” Eddie says like a child discovering something for the first time, slapping a giant fuzzy rug hung on a rack. It wiggles under his pressure and he’s transfixed, disregarding our existence.

I shake my head. “Never shopped for rugs before. Where do I even begin?”

Ben gives me a breathy laugh, squeezing my shoulder. “I'll look for one and make him haul it to the car. Any color preferences?”

I shrug. “Cheapest one. And uh, don’t let him pick something stupid,” I find amusement in Eddie’s antics, and he clearly does as well.

“Harrington, you're on furniture duty,” Ben puts on his best serious face, pointing at his best friend like a drill sergeant. He jogs backward, disappearing into the rug aisle. "Don't screw it up!" echos through the halls, dampened by the walls of carpet, lampshades and throw pillows.

I giggle, wrapping my arms around myself anxiously and swaying in place.

He gleams down at me, arms open at his sides. "What's first?"

I rub my eyes, needing to do something with my hands despite it smudging what little makeup I had the energy to put on today. "Pray to any God willing to listen that this doesn't permanently annihilate my bank account." Joking usually helps me feel better about situations like this, but this time it's just straight-up depressing.

But Steve, ever a ray of sunshine, breaks through my gloom with his light. "It's not all that bad. Let's see... what do we need?" He spins around, taking it all in. "Bed, nightstand, dresser, all that stuff right? You'll need a bed tonight, that's non-negotiable--but I've got a friend who owns a thrift shop on The Loop with her girlfriend. They're always getting furniture in there. Bet they'd let us snag some stuff at a good price," he's rambling now, talking with his hands as we stroll the rows of overpriced furniture.

I just listen to him talk, the sound of his voice entrancing.

God, I've got to get away from this man.

"Thank you, Steve. I really appreciate it," I smile meekly, reaching to mess with my hair but stopping myself right before.

"Anytime, Sunny." he responds quietly, and butterflies assault my stomach.

I want to ask him about the nickname, but I don’t want to spoil the moment. Honestly, I don't have the emotional capacity to handle the--probably dull--answer either. I like to think it means something, but the likely case is that it's a placeholder; An easy gateway to forgetting me when my residence in Apartment 406D comes to an end. It's not like I'll be spending the rest of my life with these guys. My brother, sure, not that I've had much of a choice. I'm stuck with that jerk until I die.

Steve and I pick out the cheapest--yet somehow still outrageously priced--bed and mattress the store offers. Steve rolls them out on a bright yellow cart provided by the cashier. The others have obviously been waiting for a while, as Eddie smokes a cigarette under a streetlamp a few feet away while Ben leans against the outside of the passenger door skimming through a packet of papers.

I squint against the encroaching darkness, making out the big University Housing Office title through the transparent page.

If your stomach can physically drop into your ass, mine definitely just did.

"Oh, shit," I use my last bit of breath to whisper to Steve.

He pauses to observe my brother's scowl. "He looks pissed."

For the second time in a week, I accept my death.

Ben hears us approach and looks up at me through his eyebrows. There he goes, looking like our dad again. I tremble.

I'm fucked.

He waves the packet in the air. "What's this?"

Steve leaves the cart next to the van and retreats to Eddie, leaving my brother and I to talk.

Traitor, don't leave me here!

"I was gonna tell you," I lie.

He glowers. "No, you weren't."

"Yeah, you're right, I weren't," I blurt out in distress. "Fuck, wasn't. No, I wasn't gonna tell you,"

"You realize I'm a lawyer, right? I can help you contest this," he offers.

"You're a baby lawyer and you've done enough for me by letting me live in your house," I counter.

His features soften and then, to my complete shock, he laughs. I'm apprehensive, waiting for him to pull out his typical disapproving glare and snide remarks that remind me I’ll never be as smart, cunning, or on top of things as he is.

"Trust me, Bug. You moving in does me a more of a favor than it does you," he tugs on my shoulder, gently directing me to look at Eddie and Steve. He points at them as we watch them visibly argue about something, only catching the tail end of their dispute.

"Goddammit Harrington! Do it or I'm gonna kiss you myself!" Eddie threatens, tensing in a wide stance. I furrow my brows and wonder what on earth they must be discussing.

Steve puts his hands out in front of him, bracing himself. "God, you're so weird! Why would you say that?!"

Eddie lurches forward and Steve takes off down the parking lot. They chase each other around light posts and parked cars.

"...is this a frequent occurrence?" I ask Ben quietly. I swear anytime I see those two in the same room they're bullying each other or…flirting? Challenging each other? I don’t even know.

He nods. "Oh yeah. They've been friends since high school. More siblings than friends, if I'm bein' honest. Guess they uh, both lost a lot of people back home. Came to Chicago together for a fresh start,"

We're both quiet for a long minute, listening to their voices echo through the desolate parking lot.

"Yeah, you're saving me from living alone with those two. We needed another adult in the house," Ben cackles, swinging the van door open. He wiggles the papers between us. "We're gonna fix this, okay?"

I purse my lips and nod, blinking rapidly to avoid spilling any tears. He frowns and pulls me into him, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. The tenseness in his body loosens a bit but not enough to break down the walls he's built, but I'll take the progress, as he creeps a little closer to feeling like the big brother I remember.

"C'mon. Let's go home." ⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

Ben did an excellent job picking out a mock vintage rug with an array of colors that perfectly covered all of the mystery spots on the floor. I laid it out and put books from Steve’s room at all four corners to flatten it.

After dropping Steve and me off at home, Ben and Eddie went to the storage unit to collect my things. They've been gone for hours, a suspiciously long time for the project at hand, leaving Steve and I to get three beers deep and attempt to assemble my bedframe.

"Jesus, what're these in a different language?" he murmurs, polishing off his fourth beer and lifting the instructions in the air.

"It's upside down, Steven," I can hardly contain my laughter as I say it, giggles slipping through the fingers I cover my mouth with.

"Oh, shit. Yeah, they are," he admits, turning it in his hands. "Ah! There it is,"

"That big brain got you into UChicago?" I flirt on the defensive so I can pass it off as just being mean if I need to.

He smiles, lopsided. "Can you believe it?" he jokes.

"Let me guess. History major," I declare, scooting closer to look at the directions with him.

Though he's not looking at the pages anymore. He's staring a hole into the side of my head.

"Masters," he adds. "How'd you know?"

I shrug, leaving it ambiguous. I don't tell him I'd nosily asked Eddie when no one else was around, or that I'd spent hours on the University of Chicago's website looking at their History Department. Steve is highly distinguished by the History Department as one of their top students with several awards and accredits, but telling him I know that makes me sound like a stalker, so I keep it to myself.

"Y'know, my parents wanted me to go into Business," he slurs his words a bit. I try not to smile at him in a way that seems pitiful. "Didn't wanna end up like my hard-ass old man. It's all about money with him. Not even sure he's got a soul," he reaches behind me, inadvertently wrapping his arm around me to snatch another beer from the pack we left on the floor. Despite the several layers of fabric between us, his touch lights my skin on fire.

I swallow as he cracks open another beer. "I think you've had enough of these," I half-joke, taking it from him setting it on the opposite side of my body. He leans into me in a retrevial attempt but I move away from him. He puts all his weight on my shoulder, knocking me over. I snatch the beer and hold it over my head, barely out of his reach, but he continues his pursuit.

Maybe it’s the fact he’s so pretty, or maybe it’s the alcohol, but I allow his body to envelop mine. He encompasses me, body pressed on top of mine as we wrestle over a singular beer bottle. It’s stupid; he could just grab another one, but he doesn’t. His large hand wraps around mine, tugging the bottle closer to us. I move to use my other hand to free myself from him but he snatches it, pinning it down above my hand.

I giggle uncontrollably, both because I’m drunk and incredibly nervous.

It’s as if the sound awakens Steve from his trance, because he stills against me. Chests flush and noses a mere inch apart, his breath fans my face. He looks, dare I say, scared. That makes tow of us.

He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing, before recovering with a grin. “Always knew we’d end up in this position,” his voice is husky and he smells like a dangerous concoction of beer and cologne. He moves his other hand to my jaw, beverage long forgotten. He softly brushes some hair from my face with a finger, eyeing me intently.

“You’re such a weirdo,” I wiggle underneath him and he tenses, a labored breath escaping his throat. I open my mouth to tell him to get off of me, but the words die on my tongue as I feel something—someone—hard pressed against my thigh. I flush, coughing to have an excuse to turn my face away from him. Suddenly, it’s impossible to breathe. “Uh, Steve, you—“

I hear the front door open.

“We’re home!” Ben’s voice echos down the hall.

Steve and I can’t scramble off each other fast enough, a mess of limbs and strings of curses. He crawls away from me like I’m on fire. Flustered, I fix my hair and readjust my sweater. Steve busies himself with the instruction manual.

Suddenly sober, I watch as Ben enters the room, a ziplock bag in hand. I thank God for the distraction from Steve and lean heavily into it.

“I got it!” He cheers, wiggling the bag in his hand.

I furrow my brows. “You got…what?” I squint to get a closer look at the object in the clear bag.

“The key to solving your Dorm problem,” he moves it closer, and that’s when I see it. The tiny dead bodies of about five cockroaches. “I pulled their dead bodies out of your stuff,”

“That’s disgusting,” I gag, scurrying away from him.

“These little guys are coming with me to Campus Housing. We’re going to get you out of that lease.” He waives the bag of bugs around, and I damn near hurl as I remember the way they felt crawling on my skin. He’s so distracted by his victory, that it takes him a while to catch on to the heaviness in the room. “Hey, you two okay?”

“Yes!” I say a little too loud and fast.

Ben cocks his brow. “Steve, are you drunk?”

“What? No…” Steve squeaks.

“Uh huh…” my brother retorts, eyeing him suspiciously. As he turns to leave, he says “The manual’s upside down.”

“Oh goddammit, again?!” Steve complains drunkenly.

Eddie brushes past Ben in the doorway, leaning against its white frame on his forearm. “Oh, dude!” Eddie whines. “You guys drank all the beer!”

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

Im convinced that sharing a bathroom with two men is a type of punishment in Hell. Toilet seats left up, beard trimmings in the sink, and toothpaste on the counters are just enough of an inconvenience to annoy me. I spent my first couple days cleaning when I’m not in class, seen as I’m the only unemployed one in the house. It’s a bitterly unrewarding task, though, as when the boys come home it’s like a hurricane wrecks the house. Eddie’s the biggest culprit, his motor-oil stained hands infecting everything he touches.

Everyday, I shower after the gym and before my 11AM class. Having memorized the boys’ schedules, I know they should all be at work by now. Singing my best rendition of Taylor Swift’s greatest hits, I step into the shower. I let the water cascade over my shoulders, trying to ground myself in reality. I try not to think about all the anxieties that loom over me.

Campus Housing. The start of college. My brother’s hot best friend that I now live with.

Steve’s either a forgetful idiot or he’s embarrassed about the other night, because he’s yet to mention it since it happened. I know we were drunk but— enough to completely forget? I could never. Mostly because I think I liked it.

The bathroom door creaks open, eerie and slow. I freeze in place, so scared that I wanna turn inside out.

No one’s supposed to be in the house.

I suddenly remember the movie Psycho that Daizy and I swiped from the video store and watched in secret when we were 16. Am I going to die here, naked and wet in the shower like Janet Leigh did, zero dignity to my name.

Heavy footsteps approach the shower. Boots, they’re wearing boots.

Through the sheer shower curtain, I make out the shape of the person. A man, based on their build. Skinny but broad shoulders and arms. He’ll easily be able to overpower me.

I try not to panic, scanning the shower for anything to defend myself. There’s a variety of bottles, a bar of soap and a singular razor that hangs from the mirror nailed to the wall. I snatch it, ripping the head apart to get the blade out of it. I grip the tiny razor blade in my hand, my only source of self-defense.

The man leans over the vanity, turning the sink on and washing his hands. I silently pick up each bottle until I find the heaviest three, setting them at my feet. I brace for a fight, opening the curtain just enough to toss the largest, heaviest bottle at the intruder. I hear the impact from beyond the shower curtain, a groan of pain leaving him. I quickly throw the next one and then the one after that in rapid succession.

“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!” I scream, hopefully loud enough for a neighbor to hear and call the cops.

“What the fuck, Y/N?!” Eddie protests. “Can’t a man wash his hands without being abused by shower products?”

I peek my head out of the shower, wrapping the curtain around myself with one hand and holding the razor blade out with the other. Eddie looms over me, hands dripping with a mix of dirt, water, and oil.

“Goddammit, Eddie! I thought you were a predator!” I complain, the tension leaving my shoulders.

“And you were gonna… kill me with a blade from my razor?” He teases, pointing at the minuscule weapon I’d foraged.

I groan. “What’re you doing here anyways? Don’t you have a job or something?”

“Well, I live here. But if you must know, the shop’s closed due to a small fire,” he explains, drying his hands.

“Everything okay?” I gasp, wracking my brain through the possibilities. An engine fire, an oil fire, maybe?

“Yeah, I’m good,” he’s staring at me, eyes growing wider by the second. I—for the life of me—can’t figure out what he’s looking at, until he grins, “mind if I join you?”

“Ugh, gross,” I roll my eyes, closing the shower curtain aggressively. “Get out of here.”

“Breakin’ my heart, Sweetheart!” He sing-songs, pretending like he’s going to pull the curtain back by pinching it ever-so-slightly between two fingers.

“GET OUT, ED!” I screech.

His laughter gets further away until I can barely hear it through the thin walls of this ancient building. I huff, rinsing the soap out of my hair. Once the adrenaline has worn off and my body quits trembling, I laugh despite myself. Eddie’s blatant and unrelenting flirting is flattering, amusing, and terrifying all at once. I convince myself he’s just messing with me, because the alternative freaks me out too bad to even entertain it.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

While sipping his coffee, never looking up from his coursework, Steve asked me if I’d like to visit his friend Robin’s thrift shop. The Loop’s occupied by buildings so tall they touch the moon; coffee shops, stores, restaurants… anything you can think of, it’s there. I’d never heard of it until Steve mentioned it. The Loop.

“Sounds made up,” I said over my breakfast.

“Everything’s made up.” Ben reminded me of the technicality, typing furiously at his computer.

When I agreed to go with Steve, his eyes lit up like someone had set a fire behind them. I was largely unmoved by it—I forced myself to be—but Ben shifted uncomfortably, staring at his best friend with an icy glare. They’d talked about something in private while Steve was getting ready in his room, right before we left. I ignored them as I found myself mulling over what to wear. Stupid, for such a basic activity. You’d think I was going on a date with how much I cared.

We stop by a coffee shop right next to the thrift store. There’s a Help Wanted sign taped to the door, and as I order my drink I muster up the bravery to inquire about it. A heavy set woman with a golden name tag labeled TRACY with the title ‘Manager’ scribed at the bottom tells me to come by next week with my resume for an interview.

I’m so giddy about the opportunity that I almost forget to listen to Steve’s order, but I do and commit it to memory.

16 ounce hot Americano with cream and one sugar packet. Somehow, it suits him so well.

I laugh.

“What’re you laughing at?” Steve asks, opening the door for me.

I shake my head and step outside just in time to see a pair of Mallard ducks cross the path, webbed feet flapping against the pavement.

“Holy shit, ducks!” I squeak, enthusiasm comparable to a kid in a candy store.

Steve laughs, a hearty sound that makes my heart flutter. “Yeah, they’re all over ‘round here. They come from the river,"

I kneel down, careful not to let my skirt fly up in the breeze. The ducks--a male and a female--quack, ruffling their feathers as they step a little quicker.

"Aw. They're on a date," I joke, standing up. Our shoulders bump into each other ever-so-slightly.

"Should I go buy a croissant to feed them?" Steve asks, smiling big.

I shake my head. "Bread's bad for them. Corn or oats are better,"

"Putting that biology major to good use," he jokes. His arm stretches outward like he's going to drape it over my shoulders, but flinches last minute and pretends to scratch his head instead.

"Actually," I fumble, hiding my blush with my hands. "I learned that on the internet."

There's that damned laugh again. It's addicting, a rush of dopamine tickling my brain every time I hear it.

I'm suspended in a trance-like state as I follow him to the thrift shop. Hawkins Place Thrift, the degenerated letters on the front of the building read. Baby blue paint peels off the brick and vintage clothes sit on mannequins in the shop windows.

When we enter, a bell above the door chimes. Steve holds the door open for me, and I step inside, the faint smell of cinnamon and apple drifting through the air. The shop is lit by a series of old lamps and candles that cast a warm glow throughout.

"Is that Steve Harrington I see?" a woman's voice calls over the jazz music playing from a record player. I spot her from a mile away, mom jeans and a denim jacket with a puffy polka dot blouse. She's got mousey brown hair that barely brushes her shoulders and a general loving disposition about her, especially as she bolts across the room to embrace Steve in a hug.

He hugs her back and they spin once around. "Jeez, Rob. You act like I died and came back to life or something," Steve chortles.

She lets go of him, a look of annoyance on her features. "You practically did! We haven't seen you in, like, a month! Where have you--"

She looks at me, her jaw hitting the floor. "Holy shit, this is where you've been. You got a girlfriend?!"

My heart plummets into my stomach. It’s not that I mind being called his girlfriend. I do however, mind the look on his face.

"Actually, she--" Steve's cut off by her rambling.

"You're so pretty, oh my God. I'm Robin. I'm Steve's friend, but you knew that," she gushes, ignoring Steve to shake my hand. "Did you guys meet at that rich kid school? What's it called?"

"The University of Chicago, and it's not a rich kid school. Rob listen for a second--" he corrects, hands on his hips and obviously stressed out.

"What do you major in? Sorry, I'm asking so many questions. Steve hasn’t had a girlfriend since--"

"Robin!" the raise of his voice gets her attention. She releases my hands and turns to look at him. He's got a guilty look on his face. "This is Y/N. Ben's little sister," he gestures to me awkwardly. He turns away, but I swear I catch a hint of red flushing his cheeks as he rubs the nape of his neck.

Robin's expression falters but she swiftly recovers. "Ben-Benji! Right! We love Benji, right Steve?"

"Yeah, yeah sure..." Steve's mortified. I can't even begin to react, cemented in place and dealing with my own sick form of embarrassment. I think I’m going to throw up.

"You’re scarin’ the poor girl, Love,” a petite girl in a baby blue dress with short red hair appears from behind a bookshelf, seemingly out of thin air. She swoops in as my glorious savior to diffuse the situation.

Wrapping a soft hand around my upper arm, she tugs me ever so slightly towards her, and I allow it. She could try to kill me in the back alley and I’d let her just to get out of here. Behind us, I hear Robin and Steve arguing in angry whispers.

“I’m Vickie. You must be Y/N. Ben’s told me so much about you,” she gleams.

Seems like I’m a hot topic of conversation to literally everybody.

“It’s just because he loves you,” Vickie says sweetly, pulling me to a reading nook by a big window.

“Shit, did I say that aloud?” I blurt, immediately cringing after the words leave my mouth.

All she does is laugh, gesturing for me to sit in a floral-patterned wingback chair. I gladly take it, sighing as I lean back.

“Sorry about Robin. She can be a bit…eccentric,”

I snort. “Please, that’s nothing. Have you met Eddie? He’s like, the King of Drama,”

Vickie giggles. “Don’t I know it.”

Comfortable silence falls over us as we watch people stroll past the window. As my embarrassment settles, I can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous my life’s become. It’s strange, how this is the least uniform my world has ever been, yet I’m the happier than ever. I used to loathe change; I needed a routine and an answer to everything. No unknowns, zero variables—but now that my life is nothing but variables and questions, I actually don’t mind it. It’s exciting in a way.

“What’s funny?” Vickie asks, her voice smooth.

I shake my head. “How much can change in two weeks,” I respond, before adding, “How much I can change in two weeks,”

“Strange how it all works out, huh?”

I peel my eyes from the window to look at her. “So… what’s Hawkins?”

Her eyes thin. “Hm?”

“The name of the shop. Where’s it from?” I clarify, pointing at the ceiling and imagining the sign hanging above it.

“Ah, that’s right,” she recalls. “It’s, well… it’s home. Or it was, for all of us. Besides you and Ben of course. Where’d you guys grow up, anyways?”

“Houston,” I answer.

“You’re a long way from home,” she teases.

I nod, playing with my fingers in my lap. I could get further, I want to say. I want to get as far away from home as possible. Maybe someday I really will get far. I hear Canada’s nice. “Where’s Hawkins?” I deflect the topic away from myself.

“Indiana,” she swallows, lips forming a tight line. Her expression hollows for a moment, but she quickly brings herself back to earth and recovers with her signature smile. “Not so far from home.” She says it like it's a regret.

My lips form an ‘o’ as I nod, following her gaze out the window. Across the street, a little boy drops his ice cream, and he cries.

What a silly thing to cry about, I think to myself, but then I remember that crying about anything is silly when you really think about it.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

I sit cross-legged on my bed, the evening-setting sun peeking through the curtains and casting a golden glow on the walls. I go over my chemistry notes a million times, but it still doesn’t make sense to me. Every other class was a piece of cake, save for anatomy, which I have yet to tackle.

Daizy sits at the foot of my bed, feet propped up on the wall as she doom-scrolls on her phone. She’s been staying in my room with me for the past week as she delays going back home to Houston, her bank account no longer allowing hotel stays. I don’t ask her when she’s leaving because honestly, I don’t want her to. I will admit though, that the apartment is feeling a little crowded with the five of us.

The faint sounds of pans clanking and muffled voices echo down the hall and underneath my bedroom door. Steve and Ben discuss something I can’t make out, stopping suddenly when the front door opens and shuts. Eddie’s voice joins them in conversation.

Looking down at my studies, I groan. Fuck all of this.

“I’m gonna drop out,” I threaten.

Daizy eyes me from the side, setting her phone on her chest. “Give it a rest, would you?” She twists and sits on her feet, leaning forward to grab my hands. We sit there, faces inches apart, as she grins and evil grin. “Let’s talk about the elephant in the room,”

“There is no elephant in this room,” I retort sarcastically.

She rolls her eyes. “The metaphorical elephant!”

“That’s a big word for you, Days," I pester with a nickname I know she hates.

“You live with three men. Three hot men, might I add,” she leaps off the bed.

“Ugh, gross. One of them’s my brother,” I remind her.

She nods, spinning in place like a ballerina. “You’re the luckiest girl in the world, y’know that?” She gushes. “I mean, I’d give anything to get to look at them all day like you—“

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to live with three men?” I deadpan. “It’s anything but a joy,”

I slide off my bed and go to my dresser, pulling out some pajamas to change into. Daizy rants about boys—my boys, specifically, the ones only a few feet away in the kitchen—while I peel my sweater off.

Just as I’ve found myself in only my bra and underwear, my bedroom door flies open. I scream and attempt to cover myself as Eddie stands in the doorway.

“You went on a date with Steve?!” he accuses, expression a mixture of excitement and confusion.

“Oh my God, Eddie! Have you ever heard of knocking?” Daizy screeches, shoving him out of the room. “She’s literally naked, you perv!”

Down the hallway, I hear my brother shout ‘WHAT?’ At an unreasonable volume.

Eddie’s face goes pale and he freezes like a deer in headlights.

“Get out!” I yell.

He shakes out of his trance. “Oh, shit. Sorry!” The door slams closed behind him. I get dressed at an inhuman speed, a flustered mess of limbs and hair in my eyes.

I turn to Daizy and she’s staring at me expectantly, eyebrows perched. “You went on a date with Steve?”

Anger boils in my stomach. “It wasn’t a date,” I grumble, storming out of the bedroom and down the hallway. I stop in the kitchen, brushing past Steve to grab the towel hanging from the oven door. “Munson!” I call.

Eddie and Ben are arguing in the living room. I rapidly approach, tunnel vision on Eddie and I smack him with the towel. He barely flinches as he laughs breathlessly.

“Calm down now, Sweetheart, I’ve seen you naked before,” he coos.

My blood runs cold and my jaw hangs slack. I hit him again.

“I’m sorry you what now?” Steve joins, rounding the kitchen counter.

“It was an accident!” Eddie holds his hands up in surrender. “I walked in on her showering, she tried to murder me with shampoo bottles—“

I roll my eyes to mask my embarrassment. “You didn’t even see anything, I was covered by shower curtain,”

“Hate to break it to you Sweetheart, but—that curtain’s see through,”

I press my hands to the side of my head and squeeze. If I’m lucky, I’ll pop my brain out and I’ll never have to think about this ever again. "Oh. My. God."

Ben’s face is red with fury. “Alright, that’s it! Everyone shut up! Emergency roommate meeting is happening. Right. Now. Sit down, all of you,” he demands with conviction, slamming his hand on the couch. I silently sit on the sofa and Eddie sits on the opposite side. Daizy meekly attempts to escape, slowly stepping backward towards my bedroom. “You too!" Ben adds, pointing to her.

Her shoulders fall and she groans, walking to me. She sits on the floor in front of me, leaning her back against my legs. Steve sits between Eddie and me, his body heat radiating off of him. Daizy glances at him, mischief glimmering in her peripherals. I poke her ribs to make her stop, and she relents, if just barely.

The atmosphere suddenly turns serious and heavy. Ben paces back and forth, hands clasped together in contemplation. He presses his fingertips to his lips, thinking. Just as I believe I’m getting close to reading his thoughts, he starts, “Do you remember when I very directly told you two that there was a line, and not to cross it?” He speaks quietly, staring at the boys.

The pair nod. Steve looks down at his feet, and Eddie looks anywhere but Ben's face.

“Not only have you crossed the line, but it’s so far behind you that you can’t even see it. Shit—you might as well have pissed on it!”

Eddie can’t hold it in any longer, and he laughs, just for a second. If looks could kill, he’d be dead where he sits. Ben glares daggers at him. “I know you’re not laughing, you sexual deviant. You can continue to flirt with everyone you see— but people in this house are off limits, especially her!”

I’ll admit to jumping a bit when my brother points a finger at me, like lightning will shoot out of it and electrocute me. Like Thor.

I laugh at my own thought and immediately I realize what I’ve done. Oh fuck.

“You’re not innocent, either,” he rambles. “Jesus, you live with three guys. Lock the goddamn door!”

My bedroom door doesn’t have a lock on it, I want to remind him, but I fear he’ll ring my neck if I do.

“The bathroom lock’s broken and her bedroom doesn’t even have one,” Steve defends me. I dare a peek at him and he’s looking at me. I smile and mouth thank you to him.

“And how would you know her bedroom doesn’t have a lock?” Ben accuses.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Because I’ve lived here for two years, Benjamin.”

“Fine,” Ben resolves, looking at me. “She’ll take my room. Private bathroom and a lock on the door,”

He says it like it’s some sort of punishment, so I have to pretend to be upset. The boys nod along, agreeing that this is the best middle ground.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you two,” Ben wiggles his finger between Steve and me. “But quit it. If I find out you went on a date again I’m gonna wring your tentacles out like a rag,” he tells Steve, who winces at the thought and runs his hand through his fluffy hair.

Daizy giggles quietly. I kick her to try to shut her up, but it’s too late as he sets his sights on her.

“And you,” Ben calls on her. “Quit encouraging bad behavior. Do you think I couldn’t hear your little conversation earlier? These walls are paper thin,”

I bury my face in my hands. Daizy is gobsmacked and—for the first time ever—stunned to silence.

“This house clearly needs a set of clearly outlined rules,” he announces, pacing into the kitchen and snatching a notebook and pen off the counter. He scribbles furiously for an extremely long minute while the rest of us hold our breaths. Steve leans into me, nudging me with his shoulder. A warm, fuzzy feeling surrounds me as I scan his pouting face. 'I’m sorry,' he whispers, barely audible.

I shake my head. He has nothing to apologize for. It wasn’t a date—Eddie’s a drama queen and my brother’s an over-reactor.

“I behold to you,” Ben breathes, ripping the page out of the notebook and displaying it like a child with an art project. “The Roommate Agreement.”

The hand writing is doctorate at best, kindergarten-esque at worst. “Please read this agreement and sign it. Failure to do so will result in banishment; sleeping on the fire escape.” Ben points out the sliding glass window above the communal desk in the far corner of the living room, the only entry point to the fire escape.

It starts with Eddie. He reads it quietly before handing it to Steve, who makes a face and then hands it to me. The chicken scratch handwriting reads as follows:

The Roommate Agreement, Apartment 406D.

1. No pets, lest we suffer the wrath of Larry the Evil Landlord.

2. No roommate-on-roommate romance, punishable by: beating, public humiliation, or exile from the apartment.

3. Any and all decisions that directly affect all parties must be taken to a vote before finalized.

“Public humiliation or beating, really?” I snipe.

“Why are you so concerned? Plan on breaking the rules?” Ben teases.

I roll my eyes.

“Hey, can we add ‘pizza on Friday nights’ to the list of rules?” Eddie wonders aloud, ignorant to the tension in the room.

Ben sighs tiredly. “Yeah, sure, Ed. We can add pizza on Fridays,” he resolves.

“If we’re adding rules, we should add ‘knock before entering’ to the list. Since some people didn’t learn that in grade school,” I glare at Eddie.

He shrugs. “I’ve already seen you naked twice. Does it really matter anymore?”

I feel like I’m going to vomit from the thought of my naked body being burned into Eddie’s subconscious forever. Ben scowls and Steve elbows him.

“Do you ever think before you speak?” Daizy complains.

“Huh. Not really, no,” Eddie admits.

“I can tell.” she says.

“Alright, alright. Amendment to the Agreement: Pizza on Fridays, always knock before entering, and never speak about my sister naked ever again,” Ben says, looking pale.

Steve nods, suddenly feeling brave. “We should be allowed to make changes,”

“Once a year?” Daizy suggests, handing the paper back to Ben after she’s read it. "If you change it too often, it's not really an agreement, is it?"

“You don’t even live here,” Ben simmers, snatching the page.

“You’re the one who got me involved!” Daizy contests.

They lock eyes, an unhealthy mix of angst and electricity ricocheting off each other.

“Good fuck. Just make out already,” for once I'm thankful for Eddie's big mouth, as he says what we're all thinking. Daizy reaches for one of the throw pillows discarded on the floor and heaves it with all of her might. The plush hits his chest and he winces just to appease her, snickering.

Ben leans on the coffee table, stained with rings from beer cans and coffee mugs, furiously writing on the page. We pass it around the room again, reading the Amendment and signing our names at the bottom.

The Roommate Agreement, Apartment 406D.

1. No pets, lest we suffer the wrath of Larry the Evil Landlord.

2. No roommate-on-roommate romance, punishable by: beating, public humiliation, or exile from the apartment.

3. Any and all decisions that directly affect all parties must be taken to a vote before finalized.

4. We will have pizza on Friday night, every week, until the end of time.

5. The Agreement may receive 1 (one) Amendment within a calendar year.

6. We are to never speak of The Incidents again. Signing this agreement is a promise to take The Incidents to the grave."

'The Incidents' is an odd way to word 'Eddie's the only one that's seen my naked', but I suppose it's easier to digest this way.

I titter at the way it’s written, all professional and lawyer-like. That’s my brother, for you—he’s always been so serious. Steve hands me the pen and I grab it. He purposely holds onto it tight so I struggle to take it from him. I shake my head at him and he chuckles, relenting his grip to release the pen with a pop.

In wiggly cursive, just under Steve Harrington’s name, I squiggle my name and draw a little heart next to it, cementing my place in Apartment 406D and my commitment to the Roommate Agreement.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

**Holy crap, this took way too long to write, sorry! I gave up editing and half-assed it tbh so lmk if I missed something!**

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[bitchin-beskar]

The Roommate Agreement - Chapter 1

Rating: Mature

Pairing: College!Athlete!Roommate!Paz Vizsla x Fem!Reader (Bunny)

Warnings: Ok, so this chapter has no smut, as we're setting up the story here. However, this is the first chapter in a multi chapter story in which the MAIN THEME is free use, so there will be a LOT of smut. If you're not 18+, dnr/dni. REMINDER: IF YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT FREE USE MEANS, YOU'RE TOO YOUNG TO BE READING THIS FIC. LEAVE AT ONCE. I will say, for this chapter, we do have a male character (not paz) physically abusing the reader, although it is very brief, it could potentially be triggering. Please be aware of this when reading. Other than that, this chapter is relatively tame, but it will ramp up soon.

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Oof, ok so I've been meaning to get this posted for awhile, but I've decided to share it tonight especially because I feel like we all deserve a treat after the latest Mandalorian episode drop. So this is for @maybege, @catsnkooks, @tailorvizsla, and anyone else who was personally victimized by the choices made by Filoni and Favreau in the latest episode of the Mandalorian. Have some lovely hurt/comfort and fluff babes, I hope this helps ❤️

You stare down at your phone, more than a little frustrated. Parjai had said he didn’t have any plans other than gaming with some friends online, so there should be no reason for not picking up the phone. But after over ten increasingly urgent text messages and numerous unanswered phone calls and voicemails over the last hour, you have to conceed that he just isn’t going to answer. You look around the party despondently.

Honestly, you hadn’t even really wanted to come, but Mir’a had drug you out, saying that you needed a night out to loosen up a bit. Then she’d gone off and gotten massively drunk, and ended up going home with her on-again-off-again partner, so you were now stuck at a party you didn’t want to be at, where you knew no one, you had no ride home, and your boyfriend wasn’t answering the phone.

Just as you were starting to debate the likelyhood of being able to catch a taxi or Uber this late at night, your phone buzz. You glanced at it, half expecting to see a sheepish text from Parjai, but instead lighting up your phone was a notification from Paz. A little unconscious smile crossed your lips, and you leaned back against the wall, bringing your phone up to see it better as you swiped at the screen to open up your text thread with him.

Instead of a message, he’d sent you a selfie, and you could tell from the photo that he was in his truck, likely just having left a late night practice with the Mudhorns–the hockey team he was the goalie for. His hair looked wet, like he’d just hopped out of the shower, and you could see an old Mythosaurs logo on his teeshirt, the team he’d grown up idolizing. He had an adorably crooked grin on his face, and it was easy to see how he managed to charm damn near everyone he met.

While you were looking at the selfie, a message from him popped up on your screen.

Hey, still awake?

You bit your lip, suddenly thoughtful. If you were remembering right, the hockey rink wasn’t too far from here. Maybe…

Before you could second guess yourself, you tapped on his profile picture and then his phone number, putting your phone up to your ear as you began to move through the throng of bodies towards the outside. The butterflies barely had time to take flight in your belly when Paz’s deep voice was coming through your phone’s speaker and directly into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“What’s this, a proof of life call?”

“Ha ha, very funny,” you said loudly, almost shouting to be heard over the music. “I actually was wondering if you could do me a huuuuuge favor?”

“Is that favor rescuing you from the angry mob you sound like you’ve accidentally joined?”

Your voice was drier than the deserts of Tatooine. “Truly Paz, you’ve missed your calling as a comedian by joining the hockey team. You should be doing stand-up.”

His loud, deep laugh sounded on the other end, and you couldn’t help but smile again. Gods, you’d missed his laugh. You’d missed him.

“I belong on that rink and we both know it.” You snorted at the cocky tone of his voice. “Nah, you know I’d do anything for you. What’cha need rabbit?”

You groaned. “Please, not that stupid nickname again. I had like… one stuffed animal as a kid and suddenly everyone calls me that.”

“You brought the damn thing in the bath with you, what did you think was gonna happen?”

You narrowed your eyes, wishing that somehow Paz could feel your glare through the phone. “Anyways,” you growled, ignoring his chuckles. “I was at a party except my ride left with someone else and now I’m stuck. Is there any way you could give me a ride back to my apartment?”

“Of course,” Paz responded with zero hesitation. “Gimme the address.” As you rattled off the address of the house party, Paz sighed through the phone. “I recognize it. Some of the di’kute freshmen on the team have gotten wasted at parties there and I’ve had to come get them. I’ll be there in five.”

“Thanks, Paz.”

You could almost hear his smile on the other end. “Of course.”

You finished weaving your way through the crowds of drunk, high, and horny college students to step out on the front porch, breathing in a wave of fresh air. The night was clear, and it was only the early days of fall, so it wasn’t too cold yet. You looked up at the stars for a few moments, before you heard the familiar roar of an engine.

Looking down the street, you saw the headlights of Paz’s truck illuminating the otherwise quiet road, and you began making your way down the drive. He pulled to a stop in front of the house, waiting for you to cross in front of the truck and climb in the passenger side. You pulled yourself up and into his truck, buckling in before turning to see him grinning goofily at you.

“What?” You asked, feeling somewhat self-conscious but your cheeks still warming pleasantly under his gaze. “Do I have something on my face?”

His grin softened, and he reached out, almost subconsciously, and brushed the pads of his fingers over your cheek. “Nah,” he said, eyes still boring into yours. “Jus’ missed you, that’s all. It’s been awhile.”

You smiled back, soft too but a little self-deprecating. The both of you were well aware of just why it had been so long since you’d seen each other in person. Parjai was almost impossible to deal with whenever he simply heard Paz’s name, let alone if he knew you’d seen him or tried to hang out with him. It had seemed simpler at the time to distance yourself from Paz, something your parents and Parjai had encouraged, but now it just made you sad. At least he didn’t seem to hold it against you.

Paz sat back in his seat and re-started the engine, pulling away from the curb and beginning to drive down the darkened roads. You were a good few miles from your place with Parjai, and you couldn’t deny that you were excited to simply get to spend this little bit of time with him. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, before you opened your mouth, wanting to make the most of seeing him and actually talk to him.

“How’s the team doing?”

He lit up, his grin huge and unrestrained. It triggered a grin of your own, always so happy to see Paz get excited about the sport he loved.

“They’re good! Din’s finally getting situated in left defence. He’s been working really hard at it, he’s a damn good defender, he just had some trouble believing it. Tua and Kua are a good pair too, they both made starter positions this year.”

You thought for a second. “The Skirata twins, right?”

“Yeah, that’s them. They’re assholes, but good players.”

You racked your brain trying to think of the other players you knew about on the team. With it being a new school year, there were some faces you didn’t quite know yet. “What about the other goalie position? Is Kye’ma still the secondary?”

Paz guwaffed loudly. “No! He got himself removed from the team ‘cause his grades were slipping too much.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. Kye’ma Reau had been a vicious player, and while he was good at the sport, he was a little too bloodthirsty. He’d always been sore that Paz was the starting goalie and not him, and you were honestly starting to get a little worried about the possibility of him staging an “accident” for Paz, so you were glad he was no longer in the picture.

“Who replaced him?”

“Some freshman kid, Uliik Gedyc. Wouldn’t know it just by looking at him though. Kid’s built like a fucking tank.”

You snickered at the mental image. You remembered what Paz looked like as a freshman in college, and you wouldn’t exactly describe his physique at the time as ‘tank-like.’ Although, that wasn’t to say he hadn’t been fit. Paz had been fit since he’d discovered gyms around the same time as puberty, and the muscle mass only grew with every year.

Not that you’d noticed.

All too soon, you realized that you were turning onto your street. You slumped slightly in your seat, sad that your time with Paz was coming to an end. You resolved to try and fix that, and to attempt to spend more time with him. Granted it was senior year, and both of you were set to graduate, and he had the hockey team to think about too, but you were tired of shunning your best friend to keep your boyfriend happy.

As Paz pulled into the driveway of the place you shared with Parjai, you were surprised to see Parjai storming out the front door, his face twisted in fury. You quickly unbuckled and practically threw yourself out of the truck, not hearing Paz call after you, as you were worried something was wrong.

Before you could get any words out, Parjai reached you and gripped your arm tightly, causing you to cry out in shock and a little bit of pain.

“What the fuck are you doing with him?”

You blinked at the furious words being thrown in your face. “Him-you mean Paz? He gave me a ride home because you didn’t-”

“Don’t fucking blame me for you being a slut.” He growled, shaking you hard. “How many times do I have to fucking tell you? You’re not allowed to see him, not only is he a goddamn exile, but you’re mine, you hear me? I won’t be made a fool of by my girlfriend just whoring herself out to whoever fucking asks!”

You jerked away, ripping your arm from his grasp. You could smell the alcohol on his breath, and it turned your stomach, although not as much as the hateful words he spewed.

“I’m not fucking Paz, Parjai,” you said, not yelling but the anger still clear in your voice. “I’ve told you before, he’s just a friend. I’ve known him for years, there’s nothing wrong with me wanting to spend a little time with him! Besides, you weren’t answering! What was I supposed to do?”

“You fucking slut!”

Suddenly, blooming pain spread across your cheek, and you fell back in shock, your body colliding with the door of Paz’s truck and your head cracking against the glass from the force of what had been Parjai’s hand clocking you across the face.

You slowly raised a hand to your cheek, fingers shaking as they brushed the skin even as you winced from the pain. Tears filled your eyes and you turned your head back to look at your still-furious boyfriend. He was glaring hatefully at you, even though he was swaying on his feet, likely from the intoxication.

He opened his mouth, probably to spew more vitriol, when abruptly, faster than your brain was able to register, a fist shot out and punched Parjai square in the jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground.

You blinked dumbly at your boyfriend-no, ex-boyfriend now, like hell were you gonna stay with that asshole-lying prone on the lawn, groaning in pain. Your brain felt like it was swimming through molasses, unable to process events in real time. As you were trying to put together what exactly just happened, suddenly Paz was standing in front of you, cupping your face in his hands as frantic eyes roved over you.

You just stood there, watching as his mouth moved, but unable to hear anything over the rushing of blood in your ears. He let one hand fall to your shoulder while the other came up to gently prod at the swelling on your face of what was likely to be a nasty black eye. He shook your shoulder, his face growing more concerned when suddenly there was a popping noise and you could hear clearly again.

The abrupt silence startled you and you jumped slightly. Paz raised his hands quickly off your body, taking a half step back so he wasn’t right in your space, but your panicking mind decided that was the absolute worst possible outcome, so you lunged forward and wrapped your arms around his torso, burying your face in his chest. The tentative grasp of control that you’d had simply shattered, and you began to sob brokenly into the fabric of his sweatshirt.

Paz’s arms came up around you, one banding around your back while the other came up to cradle your head against his chest. You twisted your fingers in his sweatshirt, anchoring yourself to him as you only cried harder.

His chest rumbled underneath you, and you faintly registered that he was whispering soft words of endearment, trying his best to soothe you. You sniffled and burrowed deeper, almost like if you tried hard enough, you could climb inside his chest where it was safe and never leave.

You could feel his lips pressing against the top of your head, leaving gentle kisses in the breaks between his words. He held you like something precious, like something to be treasured, and you found yourself never wanting to leave his embrace.

Unfortunately, Paz seemed to have different plans. He slowly pulled you away from where you’d been buried in his sweatshirt, although he kept his arms secure around you. He tilted your head up with a crooked finger under your chin, his gaze suddenly very serious.

“You’re not staying here, sweetheart. Get in the truck. I’m gonna run in and grab you a few things, and then we’re leaving.”

You blinked up at him, lashes clumped together with tears. You were sure you likely looked a mess, but all you could focus on was Paz’s arm around you and his fingers brushing your jaw. He sighed softly, seemingly realizing that you were not in a good frame of mind to be doing any critical thinking. He opened up the passenger door and bodily lifted you up, ignoring your quiet squeak of surprise as he set you in the passenger seat.

“Get buckled, I’m just gonna grab some of your things. I’ll be right back, I promise.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, before letting his own forehead gently touch yours in the sweetest mirshmure’cya you’d ever recieved, bringing new tears to your eyes. He stepped back and shut the door, before quickly stepping over Parjai and walking into the house. You buckled in a daze, still reeling from how quickly things had changed. One second you’d been happily chatting with Paz about his hockey team, the next your boyfriend was punching you in the face.

You pulled down the visor on the passenger side and flipped open the mirror, wincing at your reflection. Already there was the starting of some swelling around your eye, and you could tell it was going to bruise. It was throbbing and aching, and you poked at the skin cautiously, nose scrunching up at the uncomfortable sensation. You were going to end up with a black eye for sure.

You see Paz coming back out of the front door, a duffle bag you recognize from your closet in hand, stuffed full of whatever Paz had deemed important enough for him to grab. He deftly stepped over Parjai, who was still lying on the ground, rolling around in pain as he clutched at his jaw. Paz didn’t even spare him a glance, instead quickly making his way to the driver’s side of the truck. He jerked open the door and climbed in, reaching back to set the duffle down on the floor behind his seat.

He buckled, and looked over at you, his hands tightening on the steering wheel as he took in the darkening bruise over your eye and the dried tear tracks on your face. He looked like he wanted to reach out to touch you, but restrained himself.

“Are you buckled, sweetheart?” You simply nodded, the lump in your throat too large to speak around. “Good. Let’s go home.”

You didn’t say anything, but you could tell Paz wasn’t really looking for a response either. He backed out of the driveway, probably a little faster than he should’ve, but it was late at night and it wasn’t like it was likely for anyone to be out for him to run into.

As he drove down the dark streets, navigating towards his apartment by memory, you looked out the window, eyes not really focusing on any one thing as the scenery flew by. You felt almost like you were having an out of body experience, like your limbs were too heavy for you to move on your own. Truly, you were about one step away from a complete breakdown. You didn’t realize you were twisting your hands in your lap until one of Paz’s hands settled on top of both of yours, stilling the anxious movement. You looked over, to see him still focused on the road, but a worried frown decorating his face. Turning one of your hands over, you pressed your palm against Paz’s, linking your fingers together and letting his touch ground you.

It wasn’t a long drive to Paz’s place, and soon enough, he was pulling up in front of his building. He didn’t waste time, shutting off his truck and sliding his hand out of yours so he could hop out. You began to undo your buckle, but before you could open the door, Paz was already there, ready to help you out of the truck. The concerned look on his face broke something inside you, and you felt tears begin to fill your eyes again.

Paz didn’t hesitate to pull you out of the truck and into his arms, your duffel already slung over his shoulder so both of his arms were free to hold you. You clung to him clumsily, throwing your arms around his neck and wrapping your legs around his waist as one of his arms wrapped around your torso to hold you tightly against him. Burying your face in his neck, you let the tears fall, trusting Paz to get you inside safely.

He didn’t say anything as he carried you into his apartment, and you didn’t look up from the safety of his neck until he was setting you down on a soft mattress. You looked around, slightly dazed as you realized you were in his bedroom. You’d seen glimpses of the space through pictures he’d sent you, but you’d never actually been in his bedroom.

A careful hand on your jaw caught your attention, and Paz gently lifted your head, turning it from side to side as he studied the swelling and darkening skin around your eye. His thumb brushed your cheek as his eyes found yours. “Lemme go grab something for you to ice that shiner with, ok?” You nodded, watching as he left the bedroom, moving down to where you were pretty sure his kitchen was.

While he was gone, you took a moment to take in his bedroom, the one place that was purely, personally, Paz. There weren’t a whole lot of decorations, but you weren’t expecting there to be. Paz had always been rather minimalistic by nature. He had some trophies and framed awards from various hockey leagues and games he’d won, some assorted sports paraphernalia in the corner by his closet, a soft grey rug underneath the king-sized bed which was adorned with soft white sheets and a light grey duvet, two nightstands with matching lamps, and on the far wall was a collage of pictures. As you looked at them, you realized most of them were pictures of the two of you. Some were clearly from when you were kids, but some were obviously more recent, although you realized with a pang that none of the photos were more recent than four years ago, around when you’d started to distance yourself because of Parjai.

It hit you then just how much of an idiot you’d been. You’d wasted so much time with someone who clearly didn’t trust or love you in the same way you’d loved him, especially considering how he’d acted tonight. You hadn’t realized Parjai’s insecurities ran quite that deep, but looking back it was painfully clear just how much he’d hated Paz Vizsla.

You were pulled from your self-deprecating thoughts by Paz returning, an ice pack wrapped in a kitchen towel clutched tightly in one hand. His eyes met yours, and some of the tension he’d been carrying in his shoulders seemed to melt away as he reassured himself seeing that you were safe. He came forward to kneel at the side of the bed where you were perched. With gentle hands, he pressed the ice pack over the swelling on your face, his free hand coming up to cup your jaw as you tried to shy away from the sudden shock of cold.

“Gotta let the ice do it’s job, rabbit,” he murmured. “We’ve gotta get that swelling down.”

You winced, but nonetheless held still, letting Paz do his thing. Maker only knows how many, many bumps, bruises, broken bones and black eyes he’d suffered over the years, not just from hockey but his uncanny ability to always get into fights. You’d even helped him with some of the more painful injuries.

A comfortable silence settled over the two of you. Your eyes had fluttered shut, just basking in the soft attention and careful ministrations Paz was bestowing upon you. Paz kept one hand on the ice pack pressed gently over your eye, the other still cupping the side of your face, his thumb softly stroking your cheekbone. After awhile, Paz slowly took the ice pack away, and you opened your eyes to see him critically looking over your face. He seemed to be satisfied with the state of your face where Parjai had smacked you, and he sat back slightly on his heels.

“How does that feel, hmm?”

“Better.”

Silence descended again, but this time there was a tension floating in the air. It felt like Paz was just waiting for something to happen, but you didn’t know what he’d be waiting for. You were fine, absolutely fine. Sure, your partner of over three years had just assaulted you out of the blue, but honestly, you were-

“Rabbit?”

The sound of Paz’s voice, thick with worry and concern and love is what broke the dam. Your eyes filled with tears, and your breath hitched as you fought to not burst into sobs. You met Paz’s gaze, and you saw nothing but love and understanding.

“Oh, c’mere love,” he murmured, his hands gently tugging you off the bed and into his lap. That was the last straw, and you began to sob, deep and heartbroken sounds wrenching their way out of your throat as you clawed at his back, as though you could somehow pull him even closer to you. “That’s it, let it all out.”

“W-W-Why, Paz?” you cried, voice trembling as you tried to force the words out. “I-I loved him… w-why wou-would he–?” You couldn’t finish your sentence, your voice breaking as you sobbed harder. Paz’s arms were tight around you, holding you securely against his chest. His lips were pressed to your head, and the rumbling in his chest told you he was attempting to make soothing noises although you were unable to actually hear them over the sounds of your cries.

As your sobs began to slow you clutched tighter to Paz, suddenly afraid that he’d let you go now that you weren’t crying your eyes out. But to your great relief, he didn’t, merely sliding his arms more securely around you and pressing you closer against his chest.

“What am I gonna do?” You said, voice barely more than a whisper pressed against the fabric of his shirt. Even as you said the words, you didn’t really fully realize what they meant until they’d left your mouth. You pulled your head back to look at Paz with wide, teary eyes. “T-That’s my home, Paz, but he’s not gonna leave, I know he isn’t, and it’s not like my parents are gonna be any help cause they love him and are just gonna say I’m making this up for attention and-”

“Breathe.”

The order startled you out of the sprial you’d begun to descend into, and you locked eyes with Paz, mouth snapping shut at the commanding tone of his voice.

“I’ll tell you what you’re gonna do, rabbit. You’re gonna stay right here, with me. There’ll be a blizzard on Tatooine before I let you go back to that hut’uun di’kut. He doesn’t deserve you, and I refuse to let you delude yourself into thinking that any of the actions he took tonight are in any way acceptable.”

His stare was piercing, and you found yourself unable to look away, even as you listened to what he was saying. You opened your mouth, about to insist that you couldn’t just intrude on Paz and his home like that, but a finger pressed to your lips stopped you.

“Uh uh, I’m not finished.” Paz waited for you to acknowledge his words before he continued. “I’ve got more than enough space, and I don’t want him or your family trying to manipulate you into going back to him. You deserve better, so much better, than that.”

Tears began to fill your eyes, but for far different reasons this time. Paz wasn’t the kind of person to say things like this openly, not the type to blatantly lay his feelings out for all to see, but he was doing it for you.

“Y-You’ll really do that, Paz?” You asked, trying and mostly succeeding to prevent your voice from shaking. “You’ll let me stay?” Some emotion you didn’t recognize passed over his face, but it was quickly gone before you had a chance to analyze it.

“Course I will,” he said softly, voice quiet but no less steady. “You’ve always had a place with me, and you always will.”

Another tear trailed down your cheek. The words that escaped your mouth weren’t something you’d been intending to say, but that didn’t make them any less true.

“Love you, Paz.”

Paz’s eyelashes fluttered, his face going slack for a moment before he was able to focus on you again. “Oh, bunny,” he muttered, drawing you close again even as a shiver ran down your spine at the unexpected variation on his nickname foe you. He was tucking your face back into his neck as his hand stroked soothingly up and down his back. “My sweet bunny rabbit, I love you too. You’ll always have a place with me, no matter what.”

In that moment, in Paz’s arms on the floor of his guest bedroom, you knew things were gonna be alright.

[auteurdelabre-updates]

The Roommate Agreement Part XI: I N G E S T

[whydoilovesomanyvillains]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Dream SMP Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF) Additional Tags: cult leader Dream, Ballerina George, Skater Boy Sapnap, mafia techno, more character to come - Freeform, Slice of Life, Kinda, more tage to come, No idea where the idea came from, but its here now so !!!!, Collection of stories Summary:

What do a cult leader, a ballerina, a mafia dog, and a skater boy have in common? Not much really. Just the fact that they share an apartment, oh and the fact that each of them think they’re the most normal out of the bunch (this isn’t true, each has a few screws loose). Their apartment is in a nicer part of the city and in the perfect location for each of them, close to the park, the docks, the dance hall, and whatever it is Dream needs. None of them want to move out, but if one of them does the rest will probably have to move (rent prices these days huh). So the only option is to cohabitate. Will they be able to do it? Will they find companionship in each other? Will they be able to ever find out just how Dream gets the money to pay rent? I guess we’re just gonna have to find out.

@rat-rosemary sorry for the tag but you seemed interested before if you dont wanna be tagged just let me know

[alumirp]

Roommaarriage

Luffy and Law live togheter.

They started living together after Luffy's older brother, Ace, decided to go on a trip around the world with his friends. Luffy was left alone and besides being terrible at taking care of himself, he hates loneliness.but none of his friends had space for him, already having their own roommates or living with their parents. So, Law proposes that they live together, he lives in a huge house and has a huge crush on Luffy, it doesn't hurt to help the guy he likes, even if it can cause a lot of headaches. and hes right, in less than a week everything is already a mess, Luffy's friends come to visit, everything is noisy and so chaotic in the house that used to always be quiet and peaceful.

Still, he persists, determined not to go back on his decision and simply kick Luffy out of the house. That's when everything gets confusing; Luffy was always clingy and honest with how he felt, but since he moved in with Law, this has become more frequent and more intense.He hugs Law in the morning when he wakes up, kisses him on the forehead to thank him for the food, he carries Law when he decides that Law has to sleep no matter what, he sits on Law's lap when they are watching TV, he goes to the hospital to remember Law of eating and worst of all: he often, all the time, at any time, in any place, on any occasion, tells Law that he loves him. And it just drives Law crazy. He knows it's not a lie, Luffy doesn't lie. Luffy loves him, it's just not the love Law wants it to be

All of their domesticity, all of their intimacy, all of it drives Law crazy. He wants all of it, but he also wants more. He is in love with Luffy and has no idea what to do, after all he doesn't want to just ruin their friendship and lose it all because of his greed. So, after months of freaking out about all this, he decides that what's best for everyone is if he puts some boundaries between them, draws a firm line between them, friendship, something less intimate and less...suggestive. something that allows him to sleep properly at night.

Meanwhile, Luffy is confused, Torao has been acting strangely, moving away from him, not letting him touch him or kiss him, almost like in the beginning, when he moved in and Law was still shy. Could this be what people call problems in paradise? WILL TORAO FILE FOR DIVORCE? And suddenly Law has Luffy's friends calling desperately wanting to know what happened? Why are they getting divorced so soon? Why is Luffy depressed about the end of their marriage? Why is the marriage ending in the first place???

[uncanny-tranny]

Realizing the aromantic equivalent of a marriage proposal is a "will you be my roommate?" proposal

[whoblewboobear]

Sugar Daddy!Porter jetsetting with up & coming runway & editorial model Jace Stardiamond. Whatever Jace wants, Jace gets and Porter is more than happy to oblige.

Their arrangement is simple. Porter gets a companion and some nice arm candy for these god awful business dinners and schmoozing events and Jace gets a nice allowance and gifts (so many gifts, Porter cannot stop spoiling him.)

The first time they met it was at some gala Porter’s assistant put on his schedule as a networking opportunity. He plans to bow out early but then a gorgeous man at the bar starts to chat him up. To his surprise, the conversation is actually good and Jace doesn’t seem like he wants anything from him. Naturally Porter wants to give him everything. The night starts coming to a close and the crowd is thinning as the hours drag on. Porter can’t remember the last time he’s laughed this much.

Maybe it’s whiskey, but he leans in close to Jace’s ear and says, “let me take care of you.” Jace feels like his heart stops in his chest at the man’s words. He hasn’t even asked for his name. He was too lost in the conversation. It felt so.. easy. He didn’t feel like he was being sized up or dissected like he had been all night.

No one’s ever offered to take care of him before, not seriously. He was used to low ladder industry creeps saying it to him while they shoved their hands down his pants. But this guy- this impeccably dressed guy, kept his hands to himself. He could entertain him for a bit longer, there was no harm in it?

And maybe he doesn’t intend to get into the cab with him and more so he doesn’t mean stay up all night talking in such a lavish penthouse living room with a man he just met. It almost feels surreal by the time he’s watching the sunrise, passing a cigarette between the two of them when Porter speaks.

“My offer still stands, I’d like to take care of you.”

-

Not to be that guy I do just want them fucking on a private jet. I need it bad.

[defectivegembrain]

It's all fun and games having a vivid imagination until it locks you in a prison made of your own anxieties

[deermouth]

me in my bedroom going slowly insane on day three point five of covid isolation in 2024, mostly passing my time by rewatching the entirety of interview with the vampire: this is boring!!!!!!!!! colorless, flavorless, dull!!!!!!!!

[lucyfrankenstein]

guyssss theres some random girl in my dorm right now when my roommate said she never wanted people in here... can i psychically explode her

[bitchin-beskar]

The Roommate Agreement - Chapter 2

Rating: Mature

Pairing: College!Athlete!Roommate!Paz Vizsla x Fem!Reader (Bunny)

Warnings: Again, no smut in this chapter, we've still gotta set up the premise before we get to the fun sexy times, but I'm anticipating we're likely gonna start seeing smut in Chapter 4! There are mentions of domestic abuse that happened in chapter 1 between reader and her ex (not Paz!) but no actual abuse takes place in this chapter. JUST A REMINDER, THE MAIN THEME OF THIS STORY IS FREE USE! IF YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT IS, YOU'RE TOO YOUNG TO BE READING THIS FIC. 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI.

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: hehe, as promised here is chapter 2!!! we've got some emotional shit going on, along with a bit of worldbuilding. I will definitely be expanding on the worldbuilding as the story progresses, but just be aware, I will not be taking much from actual canonical lore. You're likely going to recognize some stuff, but I'm playing fast and loose with actual canonical events. So please, don't come yelling at me if it's "not canon." it's an au for a reason guys. anyways, I hope y'all enjoy!!!

Waking up the next morning was not an enjoyable experience. Your eyes stung like crazy, and there was a bone-deep aching pain centered around your left eye and cheekbone, and your throat and mouth were unpleasantly dry. As the haze of sleep began to clear from your mind and you slowly became more aware, you remembered why you felt like death warmed over.

Groaning, you scrubbed your hands over your face, cautious of what was surely a black eye at this point, trying to stave off more tears. You didn’t want to cry over Parjai, he didn’t deserve your tears, but your heart wasn’t quite with the program yet. You’d been with him for close to four years, and those feelings didn’t just magically disappear overnight.

Although, you could admit that your love for him had been dwindling in the recent months. Parjai’s jealousy was something you’d always been aware of, but it had only grown worse as the two of you got older. He’d never liked Paz, but you’d always rationalized it away, because you knew there was nothing but friendship between the two of you, and you’d thought that Parjai trusted you on that, but clearly not. There had been fights happening more and more, often instigated by Parjai. Coming home late, unexpected school projects, wanting to grab coffee with friends, everything and anything could trigger his temper, and you’d increasingly felt like you were walking on thin ice around him.

Still, you’d never thought he’d actually hit you.

A knock on the bedroom door brought you out of your musings. You didn’t have long to wait before the handle was turning and the door was creaking open, and Paz was poking his head through the crack. He’d clearly not been up for very long, based on the state of his hair, and it brought a silly little smile to your face. He always looked younger with his hair in disarray.

His eyes were soft when he saw you sitting up in bed, but they quickly hardened when he really looked at your face. He pushed the door open further and strode into the room, coming to stand by the side of the bed. Paz nudged your chin up with a crooked finger, his other hand coming up to gently brush over your cheekbone. You let him study your face for a moment before breaking the silence.

“How bad is it?”

Paz winced, squeezing his eyes shut briefly before opening them again to focus on you. “Could’ve been worse if we hadn’t gotten that ice on you last night. Wanna put a bacta patch on today, though.”

“Ugh, no I don’t need bacta, Paz. You know I hate the smell.”

He fixed you with a stern look, concern hidden behind the fond annoyance in those dark eyes of his. “This isn’t up for debate. You wanna go to class with a black eye?”

You sighed. He was right, you really didn’t want to go to class with a black eye, but truthfully, you thought you probably should. The look Paz gave you when you voiced that thought made it clear that you needed to elaborate.

“I don’t want Parjai to be able to say it wasn’t a big deal, or that he didn’t hit me that hard.”

Paz fell quiet at that, growing contemplative as he took a seat on the edge of the bed next to you. His gaze was focused downward, and he appeared to be deep in thought. Reaching out, you grabbed one of his hands that was resting beside him on the duvet. He didn’t look up until you’d wrapped both of your hands around his much larger one, fingers gently pressing into the meat of his palm.

The look on his face made you pause, the words dying in your throat. You’d never really seen Paz look so lost, not even when he told you his father-and Paz too, by technicalities of him being a minor at the time-had officially been stripped of the Clan Vizsla Name.

“You know what he’s gonna tell people, right?”

It took you a moment to register what he was saying, but when you did, a fury filled you unlike anything you’d felt before. Parjai was excactly the kind of man to go around spreading lies that Paz had been the one to hit you, and considering his standing in Clan Priest, he had a higher chance of being believed over Paz.

However, your clan wasn’t anything to sneeze at either. Clan Prudii, while not being nearly as powerful as Clan Vizsla or nearly as influential as Clan Priest, was still a clan in good standing, well-respected and well-liked. Clan Vizsla and Clan Priest were both memebers of the Founding Clans, the ones who’d settled Mandalore in the first place. Clan Prudii was a newer clan, having formed a few centuries after the Founding of Mandalore. But Clan Prudii had always held good-standing, with a solid history of being teachers and doctors. It had been a long time since anyone in your family had married into a clan with higher-standing, and no one had married into a Founding Clan before. So naturally, it had been no secret that your parents were extremely pleased with the match between you and Parjai, because it would’ve elevated Clan Prudii to Noble Clan status, the level just below Founding Clan status. It was something your parents had dreamed of for years.

This dream had meant that you’d had to listen to many of your mother’s rants about how you were destined to drag the clan name down with you, associating with Paz the way that you had been. Those rants had only stopped once you’d began to date Parjai.

While Paz still carried the Vizsla name, his status was rather… shaky, when it came to clan politics. His father, Pre, and his grandfather, Tor, had been disowned by his great-great grandfather for their crimes as members of Death Watch, and had been stripped of the clan Name. Because Paz had been a minor at the time of the exile, he’d been allowed to keep the Clan Name on a technicality. However, because he’d been in the sole care of his father, Pre, due to his mother Tal dying years earlier, he’d been subject to the same rules as any other Nameless, the Naasade. Unless the head of Clan Vizsla took Paz back into the Clan, which hadn’t happened yet, he was shunned the same as if he’d been exiled too.

It was something Paz was exceedingly self-conscious about. At one point, you’d offered to help him draft a letter to the Clan Head to try and see if he could rejoin the Clan, only to discover that after his great-great grandfather had died, no one knew who the Clan Head actually was. Or if they did, they weren’t willing to tell Paz.

Because of the whole mess with his Clan, Paz often had to fight tooth and nail to be recognized as a Named Mandalorian. There were many who were all too happy to try and deny him access to basic things like healthcare or education based on his father’s crimes and status, and he’d fought viciously for every right he had. It had gotten better when he joined the Mudhorns, and people were talking about Paz Vizsla, the star goalie, instead of Paz Vizsla, Son of the Nameless. But there were those who still didn’t think he deserved to be on the team, or even attending the university.

But if Parjai went around saying that Paz had been the one to hit you? Well, that could cause a lot of trouble for Paz, potentially even getting him expelled. There are those who would have a far easier time believing the treasured son of Clan Priest over the maybe-disgraced son of Clan Vizsla.

So, you needed to get out there and set the record straight, before Parjai had the chance to start weaving his web of lies. The Prudii Clan were known for their honesty and frankness, and if you could get enough people believing your side of things before Parjai, then maybe the fallout for Paz wouldn’t be too bad.

Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to knock Parjai down a peg or two. He’d always been a bit arrogant, but looking back on his actions as of late, now that your affection for him was fast fading, he’d defintely stepped over the line of arrogance and straight into insufferability. He’d have a hard time finding a new girl if they knew there was a possibility he could hit them like he’d hit you.

“I’m not gonna let him tell lies about my best friend, Paz. You don’t deserve that.” You made sure he was looking at you before you continued. “Besides, he doesn’t have class today, so if I’m wanting to set the record straight, today is the best day to do it.”

Paz could clearly see that you weren’t gonna let this go. He sighed deeply, running his free hand through the fluffy mass of his hair.

“Okay, but I’m talkin’ to the team. You don’t go anywhere on campus without one of us escorting you, got it? I’m not taking any chances in case that di’kut talked to his little friends. I don’t want you gettin’ hurt even more.”

You could tell by the look on his face that Paz was deathly serious. It looked like you were gonna be spending the forseeable future with bodyguards following your every move. Normally, you’d protest such a treatment, insist that you could take care of yourself, but just the thought of running into Parjai sent shivers down your spine, so you figured you could allow Paz this indulgence for awhile.

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you stood and moved to stand in between Paz’s legs, cupping his cheeks in your palms as you looked at him. He sat there, a confused quirk in his brow, but a small smile playing on his lips at the determined look on your face.

You took another step forward and wrapped your arms tightly around his shoulders, pressing your chest against his as you hugged him tightly. You tucked your face against his neck and squeezed, hands twisting in the soft fabric of his shirt. His own arms wrapped around your waist with zero hesitation, thick bands of corded muscle keeping you centered and pressed as close as physically possible. His own face was buried in your neck, you could feel his lashes fluttering against you. And when he spoke, his lips brushed over your skin, his warm breath sending a rush of heat through you.

“What’s this for, then?”

Somehow, you squeezed him even tighter, as if you could convey every unspoken word from the near two decades of frienship into this one hug. He held you tighter too, his actions a direct contrast to his blasé tone of voice.

“‘s a thank you, Paz,” you muttered, your own lips pressed to his sleep-warm skin. “Jus’ shuddup an’ let me hug you.”

A shudder ran through his body, and you could feel his hands trembling from where they were pressed against you.

“Yes ma’am.”

****

Practically as soon as you set foot on campus, you were immediately accosted by Mir’a. You’d barely climed out of Paz’s truck before she was beelining across the parking lot. She’d begun speaking before she even really looked at you, apologies spilling from her lips about leaving you alone at the party, but when she finally focused on your face, a horrified gasp escaped, and she covered her mouth with both hands.

“Oh my stars, what happened?” She was immediately reaching for your cheeks, gently turning your head this way and that. Her eyes were wide and worried as she scanned the rest of your body for any other injuries. “Did this happen at the party? Oh Maker, I shouldn’t have left, I’m so sorry!”

“Mir’ika, I’m fine,” you reassured her, gripping her wrists and pulling her hands down from your face. You could hear Paz getting out of the truck and coming over to stand behind you. “Well, I’m fine now.”

“But what happened?”

You sighed, taking a deep breath to steel yourself. “Parjai hit me.”

“WHAT?!”

You winced slightly at the volume of her yell, seeing other students out of the corner of your eye turning to look at the two of you. Mir’a’s eyes were wide for a whole other reason now, and you could see fury dawning on her face. Mir’a was not someone you wanted to cross, and her temper was legendary on campus.

“Girl, if you don’t explain-”

“I picked her up from that party cause kriffing Priest wasn’t answering his phone, and when we got to their place, he smacked her across the face.”

Paz had come to stand directly behind you, one of his hands resting on the small of your back to help ground you. The anger in his voice was palpable, you could practically feel it radiating off of him.

“I’m gonna kill him,” she growled, clenching her fists. “Please tell me you broke up with his sorry shebs, he does not deserve you, especially after-”

“Mir’a, breathe.” She took a few deep, sarcastically exaggerated breaths, her furious gaze still trained on you. “Paz may have knocked him out before I could actually break it off, but yes, he and I are done. But I need something from you.”

“Anything.”

See, Mir’a Wren was a lot of things, some good and some bad, but a notorious gossip was probably the thing she was most known for. She was good at picking out what was important to spread around and what was just useless information, and when she put her mind to it, she could spread information faster than a viral holovid.

“I need you to make sure people know that Parjai’s the one who hit me. Paz was the one who’d taken me home, and-”

“Oh, I know exactly how he gets whenever Paz’s name gets brought up-no offense, big guy.”

“None taken.”

Mir’a paused, and really looked at you for a second. “Do you really think he’d try and lie about it?”

Maybe once you would’ve hesitated, but you didn’t need to, not about this, not now. “Yes. I absolutely think he will, and Paz doesn’t deserve that.”

His hand trailed from the small of your back to your hip, squeezing slightly at your defense of him. You turned your face up to look at Paz, missing the knowing grin that spread over Mir’a’s face as you did so. He was looking at you with an exceedingly soft look on his face, and it made your heart melt a little bit.

“Alright, you can count on me. I’m not gonna let that mudscuffer go around spreading lies. I’ll keep you updated.”

In any other instance, you’d be scared of the slightly manic look on Mir’a’s face. But now, it just fueled the dark pleasure unfurling in your gut. She quickly pulled you into a hug, pressing a kiss to your cheek before she was flouncing off, out to spread a reign of terror-for Parjai at least.

You made to go and follow her, but Paz’s grip on your hip stopped you.

“Hold up for a second, bunny.”

You turned, hoping your face didn’t show how Paz’s new little nickname made the butterflies in your belly swirl. He waited to make sure you weren’t going anywhere, before setting his duffel bag on the ground and digging through it. You were about to ask him what he was doing when he pulled a wad of fabric out triumphantly. He stood again and held it out to you.

“You better not be handing me your dirty laundry, Vizsla.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Nah, I swear it’s clean. Put it on.”

You unfolded the wad of fabric, mouth opening slightly as you realized it was Paz’s hockey sweatshirt. His name was emblazzoned on the back, his number prominent underneath it. The Mudhorn’s logo was centered on the front. It was clearly well-loved, some of the colors having faded a bit, but it was so soft. You didn’t hesitate. Dropping your own bag on the ground, you pulled the hoodie on over your head, sticking your arms through the too-long sleeves and letting the hem fall to hit you mid-thigh. You were swimming in the fabric, but you loved it. It felt a little bit like having Paz’s arms around you, and his cologne was practically woven into the fabric, so it even smelled like him.

As you settled the fabric on your body, you didn’t see the way Paz swallowed harshly at seeing you once more in his clothes. It’d been a long time since you’d worn any of his hockey gear, but the darkly primal part of him purred happily at seeing you dressed in his hockey hoodie, with his name and number on your back. He had to shove that dark possessiveness back down, and focus once more on your face when you finally looked back up at him.

“I can’t be with you for all of today, so Din’s gonna grab lunch with you, and hang with you until I’m finished and can take you home, alright?”

A part of you wanted to argue, say that you didn’t need a babysitter, but you remembered the way Paz had looked this morning, and you sighed, nodding. He pulled you in for a hug, and you went easily, arms wrapping around his waist as he held you close for a few precious moments.

“Alright bunny, let’s get you to class.”

****

For the most part, your day is completely normal. Except for practically everyone asking you about the black eye, that is.

Every time, you give variations of the same answer. Yes, Parjai as in your boyfriend Parjai. No, you’re not with him anymore. Yes, you’re doing alright, but you’d really like to stop talking about this, please and thank you.

By the time lunch rolls around, you’re exhausted. If you hadn’t been so adamant about coming in and making sure people heard your account of things, you’d have texted Paz a while ago and told him you were going back to his place to nap. Din’s waiting for you outside of your Galactic Republic History course, and the two of you walk in relative quiet to the nearest dining hall. Din’s the first person not to ask about the black eye, but you also figure that Paz probably already told him.

The two of you grab lunch and a table in the back corner, away from all the hustle and bustle, hoping that people will leave the two of you alone. It seems to work, and the two of you eat in a companionable silence. Somehow, Din seems to know that you’re absolutely done with talking today, and he’s content to just be a silent pillar of support, something you didn’t realize you were desperately missing.

Lunch is almost finished when you see that you’ve got an email from the admissions office. You open it, confused as to why you’re getting an email this close to the start of the quarter. All it says is that your presence is requested as soon as possible in the admissions office, and that they will provide a note to any classes you may be missing to attend this meeting.

Looking up, Din’s got an eyebrow raised in question at you, so wordlessly you shove your phone at him. He reads the email quickly, before simply shrugging and standing up, gathering up the trash from your meals. You give him a soft thanks before standing too, and the two of you make your way out of the dining hall and towards the main building, where all the administrative offices are.

The admissions office is easy to find, and when Din and you enter, it’s clear that the two of you are the only students here. The office is quiet, soft music playing overhead as a Twi’lek types away at the computer at the only occupied desk. She doesn’t even look up, merely gesturing for you to come over with the crook of one finger. The nameplate on her desk reads: Bondara.

“What brings you in today?”

You look at Din, who only shrugs helplessly. “Uh, I recieved an email?”

“Mmhmm, mmhmm, last name?”

“Prudii.”

“Ah, yes! Just a small matter, nothing to worry about. You just need to pay tuition for this quarter.”

A frown forms on your face. “I’m sorry ma’am, but I have direct withdrawls set up, it should’ve already been taken out of my account?”

Still, she doesn’t look at you, typing away at whatever-the-kriff is on her screen. “It didn’t go through, so we’re gonna need you to try again, hun.”

Sighing, you mouth “sorry,” at Din, before pulling out your phone to look up your banking app. You’re not quite sure why you had to skip class for this today, but oh well. The screen loads slowly, but when it’s finally fully loaded, you feel your heart fucking drop into your stomach. You frantically tap the refresh button, hoping it’s just some kind of stupid glitch on your app. But when the screen loads the exact same data as before, you sink into the stupidly plush chairs set out in front of the admissions desk.

It’s empty. Your tuition account, that should have close to 7,000 credits, is completely, utterly, empty.

[shejustcalledmeafish]

My RA: can you just turn a longhair cat into a shorthair by trimming their hair

[whydoilovesomanyvillains]

Also that indulgent fic I'm writing, which I'm dubbing the roommate agreement, should be out by latest Sunday but I'm gonna try for tonight

[miodiodavinci]

good news: we have water again ! ! ! a pipe had burst somewhere up the street so the city came out and fixed it today (we still need to run the tap to get rid of the air and muddy water but. it's something.)

bad news: i had to go to my partner's to do laundry and shower so i missed out on work time today (bad) (anxiety inducing) (i don't need this right now)

worst news: i have a killer headache and my throat is suspiciously stiff 👁 👁

[stardustedknuckles]

It just hit me that the reason I hate "therapy speak" (specifically the edge approaching business speak) as opposed to just saying what you mean is that it feels exactly like how I used to have to carefully craft how I felt about things to avoid putting blame on my mother lest she come at me. It's the same feeling of "I'm having to repackage what I actually want to say in a way that satisfies the questions demanded of me without getting me in more trouble." I despise it and especially when people use it on me, because I automatically interpret it as them trying to be careful around me when I haven't done anything to give them a reason to be so careful the way I had to be. Alternatively, I'm being told something awful but it's a nesting doll level of meaning to soften the blow. Intellectually I realize that's not generally the case and obviously it's rarely about me, but it flares my annoyance HARD when someone starts doing it to me. Say what you mean. I can take it. And it's also permission for me to say what I mean. If someone starts couching their feelings in 19 degrees of removal, I'm not going to feel comfortable being direct lest it come off mean by comparison. In essence, it signals the opposite of safety. It's a sign that a social dance has begun and I must play to be taken in good faith, and it drives me crazy.

[seraphim-soulmate]

"I KNOW DISABLED PEOPLE THEREFORE I CAN'T BE ABLEIST"