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retrievablememories · 4 years ago

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how’s this? | johnny (m)

title: how’s this? pairing: johnny x reader genre: non!idol au, smut request: “Can you please write a smut scenario with Johnny where Y/N and him are best friends and he comes in her apartment unannounced to find Y/N in lingerie in the mirror. Unbothered she asks him what he thinks.” word count: 3.6k warnings: kinda-but-not-really voyeurism?, oral sex (69), dirty talk, a lil angst? a/n: the title is from the hyuna song, although the song itself doesn’t really relate. i don’t feel as confident about this fic compared to my others tbh, but... 🤕

Johnny is your best friend. There’s little you don’t know about each other, few things you haven’t done together—well, at least on a platonic level. You might’ve kissed each other once or twice, when you were younger and still trying to figure out the opposite gender, but little more than that has happened between you.

You’re endlessly grateful that he can be someone so reliable, someone who guards all of your secrets and bad moments like they were his own and knows you inside and out.

His place in your life earned him the honorary perk of getting a key to your apartment when you first moved in, so he could drop by whenever he needed to, or whenever you felt like having him. He’s used it on more than one occasion, but he tries not to encroach upon your space too often, knowing you like time to yourself, too.

You are Johnny’s best friend. He values your friendship among some of his closest relationships, and there’s rarely a day when you don’t cross his mind. He appreciates your humor, your personality, and your support of even his wildest endeavors, fueled by the idea of you two always being there for each other.

For Johnny, your closeness makes it a little harder for him to come to grips with the fact that he likes you much, much more than friends are supposed to. He’s not quite sure when the scales tipped this way, unable to pinpoint a specific moment in time when the lines blurred, but part of him hopes that this is the one thing he can keep from you. He’s convinced that you see him practically like a brother and nothing more, and although there have been many times when he wanted to confess, he’d rather not jeopardize your relationship over his feelings.

Even if that means he has to spend many of his nights fucking his hand and pretending its you, or writing new songs and realizing all the lyrics are about you.

It’s hard not to think about you this way—and it’s especially difficult whenever he, Jaehyun, and Mark debut a new song at the cafe where they do regular performances. You’re always at the front, watching him and his bandmates with admiration and cheering them on with your other friends. For just a few hours, he can allow himself to believe that your smile is only for him.

Your apartment key comes in handy on one miserable day when Johnny is locked out of his place and it’s pouring down rain. Of course this happens the one time he forgets to check the forecast and leaves without an umbrella.

Your apartment is the closest to where he lives, close enough to walk to—run, in this weather—so he heads there without a second thought. After dealing with shitty customers at work and now this, he’s not in the mood to talk with his prickly landlord about his key; that will have to wait until tomorrow. He holds his bag over his head as he makes his way to your place, wondering if he should text you first. His phone is liable to get drowned as soon as he pulls it out, though, so he reasons that he has enough time before you get home from work to let you know he’s come by.

He’s relieved when he reaches your apartment building a few minutes later, soggy and cold, and he spends a few moments wringing himself out as best as he can before heading up the stairs.

Johnny takes the stairs two at a time until he reaches your floor, and soon enough he’s standing in front of your door. He slips his key into the lock and walks in, a pleasant shiver going down his spine from the warmth of your apartment.

He’s surprised when he hears music coming from your room. It’s loud enough that you likely can’t hear him, because you usually would’ve appeared at the sound of the door opening if you weren’t already in the front room.

Maybe he isn’t thinking entirely straight today—the earlier events did do a number on his composure. Any other time he would’ve made himself known before walking into your bedroom, but he makes a beeline for the door after dropping his things to the floor. You’ll probably fuss at him for the mess later, but he’ll make it up to you somehow.

Johnny pops into the doorway, already feeling less stressed out by the idea of seeing you. “Whassup bestie—” He’s stopped in his tracks by the sight of you standing in your full length mirror.

You’re wearing a black lingerie set, one with more lace than he knows what to do with. Something warm settles in his stomach as his eyes drink in your body, exploring every line and curve in a way that he hasn’t quite allowed himself to before. He’s seen you in bathing suits before, but in this entirely new context, something about the way the material hugs your body makes his blood rush south.

You quickly notice him standing there, though you don’t react with shock or even annoyance like he expected.

You and Johnny stare at each other for a few long seconds. He grips the doorknob as if he means to close the door, or maybe he just needs something to keep himself upright. His mouth hangs half-open from the words he meant to stay that promptly died on his lips. You smile coolly, finally breaking the tension, and his cock twitches at the sight of you grinning at him like that while wearing your pretty lingerie.

In hindsight, he’s surprised this situation hasn’t happened sooner.

“What do you think?” you ask, speaking a little louder to be heard over the music. You turn back to the mirror to give yourself another once-over. “It’s new. I bought it not too long ago, but this is my first time trying it on.”

“I…” Johnny knows the tips of his ears and his face must be red by now. “It looks great on you, really, um...really sexy.”

You smirk. “Good to know.” You turn away from him to shut off the speaker, and even with the music still on, you can hear his sharp intake of breath when his gaze falls to your ass. With the music now off, you casually walk over to where he stands. By now, you’ve given him a full show, and he has just enough shame left to pretend like he wasn’t staring.

“You’re soaking wet,” you say, furrowing your eyebrows at the state of his clothes and hair. You peel Johnny’s jacket apart to expose more of his shirt, which sticks to him and outlines his abs as clear as day. “You should take a shower before you get sick or something.”

Johnny is a little bewildered at the unaffected way you speak to him after being walked in on while wearing nothing but a few scraps of fabric. “I-it’s not like I brought any other clothes,” he says, willing himself to look in your eyes and not at your breasts as he speaks.

“Then I’ll put these in the dryer and you can wear them again later,” you say it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “But seriously, get undressed…” You trace your finger against the collar of his shirt, and that one motion has his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tries to swallow. “...you’re dripping all over my floor.”

Johnny can only nod at your instruction. Light flirting is nothing new for either of you, but this situation feels charged in a way he hasn’t experienced with you before. He dares to wonder if you could maybe feel something for him too; and does that mean he failed at hiding his own feelings like he thought he could? His mind grows a little hazy at the idea of this going somewhere further, though he isn’t sure if he should hope for that much yet.

“Seriously, go, Johnny. You look like a drenched cat.” You push him gently in the direction of your bathroom, and he finally trudges down the hall with his head spinning.

Johnny leans his head against the tile wall of the shower, enveloped by the citrusy smell of your body wash. He turns the knob a little closer to the cold setting and closes his eyes, letting the water rush across his body. He’ll warm himself up under the hot water later, but right now he needs to take care of the problem throbbing between his legs. He can’t quite bring himself to masturbate in your bathroom with you only feet away in the apartment, so he settles for the classic cold shower until he can regain his thoughts.

Sighing, he pushes his fingers through his hair and thinks back to all the times he could’ve admitted his feelings but didn’t. “...Shit. I’m an idiot.”

Johnny walks back into your room with a towel around his waist. You’re leisurely lying on the bed scrolling through your phone, still wearing your two-piece set. He has a good view of your ass in this position, and he groans inwardly as he feels his dick trying to come back to life. Maybe he should’ve jerked off in the shower after all. You sit up when you hear him step into the room, throwing your phone on the bed beside you.

“You good?”

“I’m fine,” he says, though he doesn’t feel like it. His clothes aren’t done drying yet, and he didn’t think far enough ahead to consider that he’d be wandering around in nothing but a towel until then, but it’s too late to change that. He sits on the edge of the bed. “Look...are you...up to something?”

“Up to what, Jonathan?” You like calling him this when you want to tease him a little, though it takes much more than that to ever truly upset him. He isn’t quite sure how to frame his question now that he’s said it. Wearing that lingerie probably isn’t the best answer, because you’d been doing that before he ever entered your apartment. But the fact that you haven’t put anything else on yet has the wheels in his mind turning.

“Like, do you…are you...” He wiggles his eyebrows and glances over your body, trying to play it off like he’s joking, but you aren’t buying whatever he’s trying to sell. The usual finesse he has when flirting has vacated the premises.

“I know you’re not losing it over some underwear, Johnny.” You say this, but your eyes signal that you already know how he feels about it. “It’s not that different from our trips to the beach.”

“Come on. The beach is way different from this, Y/N.”

“Then tell me what’s different.”

“The difference is that I want to fuck you.” It slips out before he can really think it through, but it’s too late to snatch the words back now. He worries if he’s toed too far across the line. “Um, I mean—if you want? I don’t want to make shit weird—”

You crowd in behind Johnny, pressing your breasts against his back and resting your chin on his shoulder. You know you’ve got a better handle on the situation than him right now, but you also hope he doesn’t notice the slight tremble in your body. He seems stuck between wanting to lean into you further and stay stock-still. “Is that your big secret, Johnny Suh? You want to fuck me? You should’ve just said so. It’s not weird.”

You haven’t reacted in any of the ways he thought you would tonight, and it makes him think maybe he’s fallen off on being able to read you. Before he can respond, your lips are on his. He’s almost surprised with himself at how immediately he responds to your kiss, prying your lips apart so he can slide his tongue into your mouth. He lets some of his self control slip, his cock swelling under his towel as he tastes the inside of your mouth and grips your chin.

You make light work of Johnny’s towel, slipping it away from his body and gripping his half-hard dick in your hand. He groans into your mouth when you do this, and his first reaction is to push up into the circle of your first, wanting that friction on his skin. Your hand and his hips move in sync as you pump his shaft and he seeks more of your touch, moaning at the way your fingers spread his precum over his dick.

You break the kiss to move from behind him, settle at his side, and push against his chest. Realizing you want him to lie down, he does so, his reddish hair fanning out across your comforter. He almost shoots right back up when you lean down with his cock in your hand and draw your tongue across the tip of it, lapping up the beads of precum threatening to drip down. “Fuck, Y/N…” Your tongue passes his slit over and over again and he has to grip your thigh to ground himself, wanting nothing more than to make you deepthroat him until he comes in your mouth.

Your ass is facing him in this position, and no sooner than the idea comes in his head does he grasp your hips and maneuver you until you’re hovering above his face. You make a noise around his dick, letting him slip from your mouth before asking, “What are you doing?”

“...Returning the favor. Have you never 69’d before?”

“N-no, but…” Your thoughts trail away when he pulls your lacy panties to the side and exposes your pussy to the warm air of your room. You try to brace yourself for the sensation of his tongue on you, but instead he strokes his fingers across your outer lips, spreading you open for him. You stop your movements on his dick in response, your face burning with heat. “T-this is so—are you just gonna stare at it all night!?”

“Lower your hips more,” he says, and you do so, and you moan out loud at the first swipe of his tongue against your pussy, slow and wet. You take his shaft in your mouth again, reaching to fondle his balls as he circles his tongue over your clit.

Johnny slowly rocks his hips up, letting you find a good rhythm as you suck his dick. You are wet and warm and perfect on his tongue, and he presses your body closer so he can taste more of what you have to offer. He quickly adds his middle and index finger into the mix, searching the depths of your pussy, his cock twitching in your mouth whenever you whine or push your hips into his face just right.

It becomes a little harder to focus on pleasuring you as he nears his end, with your lips around his shaft so tight and wet and your hands squeezing him in a firm grip. “I’m gonna come,” he mumbles against your thigh, his mouth slick with your essence. That motivates you to keep working him over until his stomach tenses and his cum spurts across your tongue, thick ropes of it painting your mouth white. Some of it drips onto your hands, and you lick this up, too.

Johnny trembles and groans from the aftershocks of his orgasm, but he pulls your hips closer and continues eating you out and pushing his fingers into you until you shout and grind against his mouth, trying to ride the wave of ecstasy without tipping over. Even after you’ve already come, he sucks your clit so fiercely that you have to pinch his thigh and beg him to let up. He only lets you go after he’s pulled another gush of wetness out of you.

You assume Johnny would be in need of a break, but instead he slides you off of him and hurriedly pulls your panties down, his dick still stiff. He runs a hand across your chest and up to your neck, admiring the way the lingerie looks against your skin before undoing your bra. He wraps his lips around your nipple, teasing it into a hard peak.

“You’re still hard,” you say, though it’s more of a statement than a question, and you’re not really sure whether you’re talking to him or yourself.

“You make me this way.” He cups your other breast and lightly pinches your nipple as he says this, and for the first time tonight you feel truly flustered at how he looks at you as he makes that claim. “Do you have any condoms?”

“...The nightstand.” You watch as he rolls over to find a condom and tears it open, sliding the rubber onto his dick. He settles himself between your legs, his tip bumping into your entrance and making you sigh at the pleasure running through you.

“Are you ready?” he asks, grasping your hip with one hand and his length with the other. You nod, and he carefully sinks himself into your heat, a moan falling from his lips at how incredible you feel around him. How many times has he imagined this? The fantasies never quite measure up to the real thing.

A dozen emotions run through him—satisfaction at finally being inside you, a sense of affection that he’s trying not to think too deeply about, and genuine amazement at how you can look so pretty under him, shining with sweat and stuffed with his dick. For a split second he wonders if you two should really be doing this, about what your friendship will look like on the other side of this, but he decides not to dwell on it further when you grip his ass and push him deeper into you. “You’re really greedy,” he says half-jokingly as he pulls out and thrusts back into you.

“Then fill me up so I won’t be, Johnny.” You hold his face and close the distance between your mouths.

The room is thick with the sounds of each other’s moans and the slap of skin against skin. Johnny’s mouth hardly leaves your body, his tongue sliding across your neck and collarbones and back down to your breasts again. You hold onto him tightly as you match his thrusts, your bodies moving together at an even pace.

He grinds his hips into you so he can watch and feel you shudder as he does so, captivated at how he can get your body to react to him. He dips his head so he can kiss you again, like there aren’t enough kisses in the world for him to be truly satisfied, and you let him fuck you with his mouth and his dick as you draw your nails across his back.

Each time he circles his hips it stimulates your clit and brings you closer to orgasm, and he adds his fingers to the mix to speed along your release, wanting to experience you gushing and tightening around him. He is so intoxicated from the reality of what’s happening that the connection between his mind and mouth is becoming fuzzier, and he’s almost afraid of what he’ll say if he takes his lips away from you now.

Johnny’s pleasuring so many different parts of your body that it makes you unable to hold on any longer, and you come with your toes curling and back arching, fucking yourself onto his length with the last remnants of energy you have. You eventually slump against the bed, still reeling as he keeps stroking into you in search of his own end.

It comes soon after when you pull him by the nape of his neck and nibble and suck your way up to his ear, tugging on his piercing and whispering about how you want him to come for you. His pace becomes more erratic as he digs into you and feels his balls drawing up with his impending orgasm.

“I love...l-love your pussy,” he gasps into your neck. He is dangerously close to spilling his real emotions, but he cleans it up at the last second, unsure if this is just a platonic fuck to you or if you’d want more. He doesn’t want to ruin what you have by trying to find out, and the electricity traveling up his spine is rendering him too distracted to think over it anyway.

You continue clinging to him as Johnny bucks into you and empties his load into the condom, and you coax along his climax by squeezing your walls around him. He eventually pulls away after regaining his strength, panting and oversensitive from your actions.

“You like me,” is the first thing you say.

There’s no point in denying it now, and he can only sigh and scratch his head. “...Yeah. Actually, I’ve kinda liked you for years, so I think it’s safe to say it counts as ‘love’ now.”

You sit up, and Johnny distracts himself with tying the condom off and throwing it away, too nervous to sit still for your reaction. “But, I understand if you don’t feel the same way, I mean we’ve just been friends this whole time anyway, we can just—”

You bring your hands to Johnny’s face and cup his cheeks. “Sometimes you are really oblivious…” You lean closer to place a chaste kiss on his lips. “How could I not love you? You’re the most important person in my life.”

He pauses as if he doesn’t have a clue what you just said, then his eyes widen. You laugh at his comical expression. “You’re sure? Like, this wasn’t just a pity fuck because you felt sorry for me or something—”

“Never that.” And then you kiss him again, your lips lingering together for longer this time as his body relaxes into yours.

#johnny smut #nct 127 smut #nct smut #ambw smut #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 imagines #ambw scenarios #ambw fic #ambw imagines #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct fic #nct johnny

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andyfire122 · 3 years ago

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Fictober day 20: That’s what I’m known for.

Original fiction More Eternal Conflict short stories. Mentions of Karens and dealing with a potential situations that involve them

“This is so stupid and you know it.”

Alyssa glared as it seems she attracted a rare short to the office. It wasn’t even a few moments ago that a woman came in and started going on random accusations. Normally she would agree with it as most complaints were concerning her personality.

This time there were talks of extortion and possibly accusing her of drug dealing.

I do believe I’ve seen her talking with that cranky landlord. He did mention someone new in the building. Didn’t think it was going to be a Karen.

“You stay right there. I know your type and I've already called the police." She looked like she was either proud or ready to fight.

Alyssa sighed as she leaned back into her chair. Judging on what the woman is accusing her of there will be police expecting the worse. She took out her phone to text her foster father on the situation as he is the current district chief.

Now for the tricky part. She’s not being too loud so most likely the old man has no idea about this little visit. I’m willing to bet the real extortion here is for her rent. That or to get a payment for emotional damage.

“Now as you inserted yourself into my office a lesson is in order. I normally charge to work like this so consider yourself lucky." She grinned as she stood up and started walking towards the woman.

The tone changed completely as she backed away with each step Alyssa took. She imminently dropped herself to the floor, almost to appear as if she was thrown down. It was enough that let anyone in the building know something was going on.

“Assault! Help, I'm being assaulted!" The woman yelled. I almost added her performance to make herself look in pain.

I’m only surprised she went with assault as her excuse. I’ll give it a few moments to let the old man climb the stairs.

A few moments later the landlord showed up, not looking pleased with the situation. As usual, he seemed more upset with Alyssa. It almost shocked the Karen how much she was being ignored. He huffed as he went directly to the detective.

“What on earth did you do now?!" He yelled. Normally she would have something to say when he accuses her like that but this time she kept quiet. The deciding factor hasn't spoken up yet from her seat on the floor.

The woman immediately turned on the waterworks as she looked up. "This woman assaulted me and you said this building was safe. I can't believe you tried to get me to live here with this criminal. Who knows what else she is hiding."

It’s always a joy when they don’t notice the cameras I installed.

The old man looked between the two women confused before turning back to Alyssa. Despite how often they bicker there was some trust between the two of them.

“Did I hear all this crap? Alright, what happened?" he asked.

The detective’s eyes narrowed as she kept eye contact with her little intruder. “She came in and I do believe a few of the accusations included extortion and something involving drugs. I tuned out when things got repetitive.”

“She's lying! You're going to believe someone like this over me?! You even said I would be the perfect tenet" The woman yelled as she pulled herself from the floor.

The old man just sighed. “Alyssa here is a pain in the ass and has the likability of a cactus. I do know she doesn’t lie.”

Glad my reputation has one thing going for it. I did tell the lady that this was all stupid from the start. It's stupid because there is no chance of it ever succeeding.

“That's what I'm known for. Besides, you are also being recorded." As she got out her phone, the woman rushed over to slap it out of her hand. She put her heel through the screen before anyone could have the chance to pick it up.

She smiled at the little display before pointing to one of the cameras stationed in the corner. “I was talking about my security cameras but sure, add property damage to your list. I don’t mind.”

The woman ran away as the police sirens started to be heard in the distance. The old man sighed as he too was about to leave.

“I’ll handle the police. I let the racist bitch into the building so I’ll clean the mess up. Though knowing how you work you probably are already ten steps ahead or some other nonsense.”

As she watched him leave, she quietly went back to her desk. As entertaining as the incident was, there was now new work that needed to be done. She knows her landlord is as good as his word but she still wanted the security footage ready.

Now I'm curious to see if she pulled this scam on other places. Putting her in prison would be a good start. Especially after losing a whole day of doing my actual job.

#fictober21 #My writing #original writing #Eternal Conflict #Alyssa Forman

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fantasticstoryteller · 3 years ago

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New Amsterdam Chapter 56

Daredevil stood broodingly on the roof, like a living gargoyle protecting his small corner of the city from those who would prey on it. Head bowed slightly to allow his ears to hear even the slightest of wrong-doing in the city beneath him.

“Yoo-hoo! Double D!” called Wade as he tumbled into place on the roof next to the masked vigilante. “How are you��urk!”

One of Daredevil’s hands closed around Wade’s throat. “Deadpool,” he said stoically.

Deadpool pushed him away and he allowed it to happen. “Man,” said Wade. “What’s with the grabby-grabby?”

{Rude. We should shoot him.}

[We’re not going to shoot him. We came for his help, remember?]

{If you’d just let us kill the bastard—}

Daredevil sighed. “What do you want?” he demanded tersely.

“Oh. I see. Brooding and morose. Well, I didn’t come—heh heh—to talk to the masked Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, I came to talk to the Badass Blind Lawyer.”

“A lawyer.” Wade was certain that if Daredevil’s mask was emotive—or had, you know, eyes—the man would be rolling them. “Why do you need a lawyer?”

“It’s not for me!” protested Wade. “It’s for my boyfriend! Well, I think he’s still my boyfriend? He hasn’t broken up with me yet, and he needs a lawyer.” Wade paused. “And, uh, I’d appreciate it if you could pretend to be taking the case pro bono. I’ll pay you,” Wade added quickly, “but he gets a little—finicky about that sort of thing.”

“You—have a boyfriend.”

“Aw, and he’s the sweetest thing!”

[He might not still be your boyfriend. You did kidnap him.]

“I had to! He would die otherwise!”

“Is that what you need a lawyer for?” asked Daredevil.

{Please. As if we’d need help with that.}

[Given that your plan was to kidnap the hot boyfriend who loved us, yeah. We need help.]

“I can hear your curiosity,” taunted Wade in a sing-song voice. “But no. We’ve got it covered.”

[We do not, you costumed ass!]

“So what do you—your boyfriend, need a lawyer for?”

“I think his landlord is pulling some shady, and I mean super shady, Shady Pines, shit with his lease.”

“That’s—surprisingly appropriate,” said Daredevil slowly. “I’ll look into it tomorrow.”

“Thanks, mi amigo!”

“Now go away. I have things to take care of.”

“Things? What things? Maybe I can help?”

[Maybe you can make it worse.]

“You don’t know that! Neither of us know what’s going on yet!”

Daredevil sighed. “This gang is having a meeting with a new player. I need to see,” the vigilante continued over Deadpool’s giggles, “if it’s something I’m going to have to interfere with.”

“Well, give me the down-lo on the low-down, and maybe I can help.”

“Can you shut up?” demanded Daredevil. He took a deep, slow breath.

{Wonder if that helps him calm down?}

“Deadpool,” said Daredevil slowly, carefully. “I need to go in stealthy. I do not want them knowing I’m there.”

“No problem,” Wade drawled. “Let’s go.” Daredevil glared at him, but turned to lead the way.

[He’s probably realized that fighting you over this will be loud enough to alert the people he’s trying not to alert.]

{Be vewy vewy quiet. We’ah hunting Dahdevil.}

[Shut up!]

“Shut up!” hissed Daredevil, alerting Wade to the fact that he was humming the Ride of the Valkyries under his breath.

“Sorry,” hissed Wade as they snuck into the abandoned theatre. Well, abandoned by the officials, anyway. Judging from the clutter below, it seemed that squatters had moved in. Judging from the tagging on the walls, these were gangs.

[Odd. Why isn’t the outside of the building marked?]

That—was a good question. Wade watched carefully. There were several gang members lounging on what used to be a stage while even more hid in the shadows on either side of the stage.

{Look! They’re wearing the red scarves as belts!}

They were. Wade silently swung around Daredevil to get a better look. The one in the center of the stage was clearly the leader and even though he was lounging in an oversized beanbag chair, Wade could tell he was tense. They all were. Whoever this “other player” was, they were on edge.

Footsteps alerted Wade to the new arrival and he turned as a teen walked confidently towards the stage, huge wings tucked close to her back.

{Isn’t that the girl we raised in another reality?}

[You mean, ‘Isn’t that the girl Peter raised in another reality.’ I seriously doubt she’d still be alive if we raised her.]

The teen on the chair began a slow clap as she approached and she stopped just before the stage, still mostly shrouded in shadows. “If it isn’t our very own interferer,” the teen said as he heaved himself out of his chair. His hands shot into his pockets and Wade could see the handles of guns in them.

[She’ll be fine. Remember, she heals faster than we do.]

“Interferer?” drawled the girl. “That’s rich, considering what you’ve been doing.”

What was she talking about?

[If you shut up and listen, we might find out.]

“Not something we’ve been able to do. And we didn’t attack your little sister again.”

{She has a little sister?}

The girl spread her arms wide. “They’re all my little brothers and sisters,” she said before settling her hands over her hips.

Wade was many things. He was flaky, he was insane, he didn’t have a good grasp (or any grasp, really) on social norms. But he knew a perfectly balanced fighting stance when he saw it.

[Maybe we did raise her.]

“Oh, they are? Then where were you when we started?”

“Not here; that’s for sure. You never would have gotten as far as you did.”

“Do you even know what we’re doing?”

“Do you?”

The banter was light, almost playful. The looks and body language were anything but. Wade stared, fascinated by the scene in front of him. The boy had the high ground (literally), but it was clear the girl was in charge. How had Daredevil put it? The girl was a player.

But—when had that happened? As far as he knew, she’d been in town for less than two weeks. How had she gotten mixed up in this mess, whatever it was?

“I know about the demon,” said the boy as he leaned forwards. Wade shifted. He recognized that tone of voice; it was the same one those religious freaks who’d tortured mutant kids had used. “I saw it with my own eyes.”

“And it was tall, had eight legs, six eyes, and huge fangs,” replied the girl. She sounded—bored, of all things. “And you saw it transform right in front of your eyes, from a normal person you never would have looked twice at if you passed them in the street.”

[That was specific.]

The boy faltered and the girl nodded. “Yeah; I’ve seen it all before. You’re not the first to be roped into this, but I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you are the last.” Even from the catwalks Wade could see the amber eyes glitter. “I have my own problems with that one.”

“Oh? And what about the seal?”

The girl scoffed and rolled her eyes. “There is no seal,” she told him firmly. “There never was a seal. You’re being used to create a horde of monstrous minions.”

“Better to walk at the Devil’s side than be in his way,” said the boy, recovering remarkably.

The girl sighed. “I adore how naive you are,” she told him. “I really do.” She paced a step forward. “Those things have been changed. Those things are being controlled by a power-hungry psychopath. Despite all of this—they still need to eat. What do you think they eat?” Another step forwards. “What do you think they’ll eat when that one no longer needs you?”

The boy’s eyes narrowed. “You’re playing with fire,” he told her, voice shaking. She’d clearly said something that hit him hard—but he wasn’t willing to back down.

“Oh, are you referring to the ten armed people you have waiting in the wings? Yeah,” she continued as he broke out into a sweat, “I hate to break it to you, but you’re toddlers attacking a tank. It doesn’t matter how many of you there are, I’m a tank. You can’t hurt me.”

The boy, despite being on the stage and using the height to tower over the girl, took a step back. There was something in that flat tone of voice, something with that subtle hint of exasperation, that showed she was telling nothing but the truth.

“We can try,” the boy said as he pulled out a gun. He shot her.

Daredevil tensed and leaned for a jump down, but Wade stuck out a hand to stop him. He knew the girl would be all right. She had to be—even if she’d grown up in another version of his world, she was raised by him and she wouldn't have survived if a mere bullet could kill her.

The bullet hit the pink leotard, sank inwards—and then bounced back as the girl rounded back out to normal dimensions around where the bullet had been. “This is armor you idiot,” she said as she reached out and caught the bullet. She lined it up on the palm of one hand before flicking it with the other. The bullet grazed the cheek of the boy in front of her—exactly as it would have if she’d shot it from a gun. Impressive, considering it was flattened out of all recognition from the impact with her chest.

“Just to warn you,” the girl said, “I have perfect aim. I didn’t want to kill you.” She gently rubbed at her chest through the material of her leotard and grimaced. “That is changing quickly,” she muttered.

Wade drew himself up to his full height. “You can’t kill these kids!” he announced in his deep, SuperheroTM voice before dropping down in full Superhero landing style.

“That,” commented the girl dryly as he stood up, “is so bad for your knees.”

“I know, right?” said Wade. “But everyone does it!”

“To be fair, most superheroes don’t live long enough for the repeated damage to be an issue,” the girl responded.

“Eek! Dark humor; me likey!” He gave the girl a high five before clearing his throat and donning the voice again. “Spiderman will be pissed if you kill these children.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes and chanted the next part in time with him. “Because with great power comes great responsibility.” She dipped her head for a moment and then looked at Wade again. “Yeah,” she said. “Heard that one a lot.”

He smirked. “I bet you have.” He turned to the boys who were staring at him. They all knew who Deadpool was, and they were hesitating to engage.

“Remember Deadpool,” the girl said impishly, “Spiderman will be pissed if you kill these children.”

[Forget the children. Spiderman’s going to be pissed about Peter.]

{But Peter isn’t pissed!]

“Stay with witnesses,” the girl said grimly. “Hopefully, the army isn’t too big yet.” She turned, gently bumped her fist against Wade’s shoulder and started to walk out. She paused. “I didn’t make a mess in your turf Daredevil,” she said firmly with a wave to the vigilante before continuing out.

“Daredevil?” asked the boy.

The vigilante dropped behind the boy, landing almost silently on the stage. “Yes,” he hissed.

#Spider-Man #Deadpool #Spideypool

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uk-news-talking-politics · 4 years ago

Text

'As far as I care, you can sleep in your car': The Corona tenants

By Chaminda Jayanetti

"As far as I care, you can sleep in your car."

Maria had just discovered what it means to be a tenant in the time of corona. It was June 5th and her landlady was ordering her to move out of her lodging that very day.

Just 24 hours earlier, she had given Maria a month's notice to leave, accusing her of using too much water when she washed her hands in line with government advice, and of damaging the property.

Now all of a sudden, she was being summarily kicked out.

"I was feeling all the emotions at the same time," Maria says. "I was scared, I was anxious, I was confused, I couldn't believe what was happening. I wanted to cry."

Maria had been lodging in the house in Bristol for three years when the pandemic hit. Despite there being five other occupants, the landlady blamed her alone for the rising water bill.

"She would be literally breathing on my neck [when I washed my hands], checking on how much water I'd use. She kept watching me all the time," Maria says.

"One day she came up to me and shoved the water bill in my face. She wanted me to pay £300 extra."

On June 4th, she gave her a month to move out after accusing Maria of deliberately damaging her bedroom window - "Why would I damage my own window?" Maria asks - and the next day, she called her into the bathroom they both used and unleashed an even more bizarre accusation.

"She points at the ceiling in the bathroom. And she's like, 'oh, what is that?' I was like, 'what do you mean?' 'Oh, there's black mould on the ceiling'.

"She accused me of pouring water and bleach on the ceiling on purpose to damage the property. That's what she accused me of. Why would I do that? Like, that doesn't make any sense.

"She said I'd have to leave the house immediately, and I looked at her and I was like, 'why would I damage the bathroom on purpose?' And she's like, 'no, you have to leave now or I'm going to call the police'. And I was like, where am I going to go?'

"I go, 'you can't put me on the street in the middle of a pandemic'. And she said, 'as far as I care, you can sleep in your car'.

"And the worst thing about it is she's a nurse."

Private rented tsunami

Despite everything, in some ways Maria got lucky - she was able to stay at a friend's place for a week before finding a new long-term tenancy, though she has little hope of getting back her £420 deposit.

But the situation facing tenants is perilous. Amid a crisis exacerbated by underlying inequalities, lodgers like Maria face more inequality than most, with few legal rights or protections. But even renters with long-term tenancies face a multitude of threats.

Politics.co.uk has heard of numerous cases of rising rent arrears and illegal evictions since lockdown began. Vital repairs have been delayed, with one block of flats left without running water at a time when personal hygiene is paramount. Some landlords have even tried to put the rent up in the middle of the pandemic.

Many migrants are at particular risk due to their insecure legal status and lack of access to benefits.

"If you are undocumented or you don't have the right to be here, then obviously that makes it a bit more complicated, because the landlord, if they know that, they hold some power over you - so whether you're going to stand up to them is another matter," says Fizza Qureshi of Migrants' Rights Network.

And then there's section 21.

Section 21 is the 'no fault' eviction route. It allows landlords to kick tenants out for any reason, as long as the correct procedure is followed and three months' notice is given.

The government suspended legal evictions at the start of lockdown, first until 23rd June and then until 23rd August.

But as incomes fall and rent arrears rise, section 21 eviction notices have been piling in, ready to take effect once the evictions ban is over.

“Nobody should lose their home because of coronavirus," says Polly Neate, chief executive of Shelter. "But if the government fails to act, tens of thousands of renters who’ve lost their livelihoods will soon face this terrifying prospect.

"When the evictions ban lifts on 23rd August, anyone in rent arrears could face automatic eviction from their home. This could unleash a tsunami of homelessness that councils would struggle to cope with."

Aidan Cassidy of Acorn, which campaigns for tenants' rights, says he is aware of 10-20 cases of landlords issuing section 21 notices during lockdown, just among Acorn's thousand members in Bristol.

"Due to coronavirus and the whole load of financial issues that it's caused, a lot of people have missed rent payments," says Cassidy. "Lots of landlords have unfortunately decided to act without any sort of thought for the wellbeing and health of their tenants, and have essentially evicted them or given them a section 21 notice because of these rent arrears."

One such case is an elderly self-employed handyman who can't work during the pandemic and has faced delays to his benefits, leaving him £150 in arrears on his rent.

It's a relatively small amount - but it's proved enough to trigger a section 21 notice.

"Instead of the landlord being sympathetic or reasonable, he's just said, 'no, we're not even going to talk about this, you've got three months to get out'," says Cassidy.

What makes this even worse is that he has chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, a lung condition that makes it hard to breathe and places him firmly on the 'shielding' list of people at heightened risk from coronavirus.

"Obviously if he is now evicted, he's at massive risk," Cassidy explains. "There's absolutely no way he can go about his normal business looking for a new place. The lockdown might be over but the virus is very much still out there and I think any suggestion that life is back to normal for people who are very susceptible to coronavirus is just nonsense."

And evictions have a sting in the tail that increase the risk of enduring homelessness.

"If people are evicted with rent arrears under section 21, the landlord can then take whatever they can off those arrears from their deposit," says Portia Msimang of Renters' Rights London. "So people are left with no deposit with which to get another property. And this is how people fall into homelessness."

It's raining rents

Short of eviction notices, rising rent arrears are a looming crisis. With the economy likely to be hamstrung for months to come, many tenants will be financially squeezed while landlords come knocking for missed rent - one of the biggest sticks of dynamite in a bulging debt timebomb also comprising utility bills, loans and council tax.

"The biggest problem we've faced is people saying that they're worried about getting behind on the rent. And those that are getting behind on the rent aren't getting the help they need from landlords," says Caitlin Wilkinson of Generation Rent.

The Institute for Fiscal Studies (IFS) calculates there were 11 percent fewer rental payments in April and May than a year before. Both the debt advice service StepChange and the Resolution Foundation think tank have estimated that just under 600,000 tenants in the private rented sector are in arrears, while Generation Rent says arrears have trebled.

The government has boosted Universal Credit, reversing years of cuts - but still not enough to cover average rents in a local area.

It has also advised tenants to negotiate rent reductions with their landlords - a laughable prospect for many tenants. Acorn branches report occasional successes, but for the most part landlords hold the whip hand in Britain's housing crisis and don't want to know. The IFS has found only one or two percent of tenants have received a rent holiday.

Biting back

What makes the situation particularly egregious is that the Tories promised to abolish section 21 evictions in their 2019 manifesto. Yet nothing has happened.

A statement from the ministry for housing in response to this article did not specifically mention a ban on section 21: "We are committed to bringing forward legislation to enhance renters' security as part of the largest changes to renting in 30 years.

"We are working with the judiciary to ensure when evictions proceedings start again, arrangements, including rules, are in place to give appropriate protections for those who have been particularly affected by coronavirus.”

Most organisations campaigning for renters' rights agree on the need to increase Universal Credit to cover average rents, and scrap section 21.

The issue of arrears is more contentious. Forcing landlords to waive rents and cancel arrears may contravene the Human Rights Act - one reason Labour dropped this approach under Keir Starmer, sparking anger from campaigners who fear Labour's new policy would leave tenants with unpayable debts.

Generation Rent's solution is to effectively extend the government furlough scheme to landlords, covering 80 percent of their monthly income up to £2,500 a month per tenant - with councils able to restrict the payment on the basis of need.

Then there are rent strikes. Heather, in Haringey, lost her work income during lockdown. After her landlady refused her request for a rent reduction, and with benefits not covering the shortfall, she got involved with the London Renters Union and simply stopped paying. She hasn't heard from her landlady for two months.

"For me it's not just a means thing," Heather says. "It started out like that, but now it feels much more like part of a movement against landlords, against this culture of people accruing lots of wealth by not actually paying anything into the system."

And this is a feature of Britain's economic response to coronavirus. Employers have taken a hit. Workers and tenants have taken a hit. But landlords, the part of the economy that produces the least value, have had the most protection of all.

The names of tenants have been changed in this article.

Chaminda Jayanetti is a freelance journalist. Follow him on Twitter here.

#coronavirus #housing

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junkercrush · 5 years ago

Note

Halo!!! I dont know your inbox is still open, but could I have a request please? Maybe Poly!Junkers harboring a crush and then dating reader who is really quiet around strangers but tends to liven up around people when theu gain their trust? I just love those two smelly bois! Also, I really like your writing and blog! Thank you!!

You sure can! Here you go:

“The Quiet One”

SFW

Pairing: Poly!Junkers x Reader

Words: 2,008

*~*~*~*~*

Prologue

Overwatch Headquarters: Cafeteria. 2076. Valentine’s Day.

The headquarters cafeteria was decorated in red, pink, and white. Paper maché hearts covered the walls. It was like someone hired an elementary school to decorate the room. Ironically, the entire Overwatch team made the décor. Jack’s orders.

“Ah, the day of romance.” Junkrat sighed as he dropped his food tray on a table beside his crime partner Roadhog. “This is the best time to hit the jewelry stores, mate! Let’s say we get us some diamonds after today’s mission. What do you say, Hog?”

Junkrat noticed Hog hasn’t touched any of his food. He snatched a heart-shaped cookie and followed his partner’s gaze towards the lone eater on the other side of the cafeteria: You. Hog let out a longing sigh.

“Rat,” Hog called out.

“Yeah?” Junkrat answered.

Hog took out a pink envelope from his pocket and gave it to Junkrat. “Could you do me a favor—”

“Wait a minute!” Junkrat sniffed the envelope and gagged. The giant wave of roses rushed through his nostrils. “Are you kidding me? You want me to send a love letter to the Quiet One?”

That’s what everybody in Overwatch called you. You barely spoke to anyone except during meetings. You were a scientist, Winston’s assistant. The people you’ve spoken to the most were Winston, Angela, and Mei. The Junkers tried to talk to you before. You would say a sentence or two before shying away into your lab.

“Please do this for me?” Roadhog pleaded. Junkrat’s eyes widen. He has never seen the Hog act so vulnerable about anyone before.

“Can’t do that, mate,” Junkrat said, crossing his arms with a sinister smirk.

“Why not?” Hog huffed.

Junkrat pulled out a crumpled envelope from his shorts. It had little heart doodles drawn over them. Unlike Hog’s envelope, it smelled like an auto shop.

“Because I’m going to give the Quiet One a love note first!” Rat said triumphantly. He jumped onto the table and started table-hopping towards your direction.

Roadhog growled. “Oh no you don’t, you little—”

Roadhog chased after Junkrat. People saw the big man storming the cafeteria, swinging his hook, and leaped out of the way.

What on Earth?

You looked up from scribbling scientific notes. Junkrat was jumping on tables towards you with his behemoth friend Roadhog running behind, trying to catch him with his hook. You instantly gathered all your books and binders from the table. Unfortunately, you didn’t save your homemade lunch on time.

“NO!” Roadhog grabbed Junkrat as soon as he landed on your table, slamming his face on your lunch. Hog looked at you and immediately wiped Junkrat’s face with a napkin. You hid your smile behind your binders.

“Sorry,” Hog apologized.

You waved your hands at him. “It’s okay, Mr. Rutledge! I—

“Roadhog here wanted to give a love note!” Junkrat shouted loud enough for the whole cafeteria could hear.

Roadhog grabbed Rat’s throat. “Would you shut up!?”

Junkrat only laughed and shoved his motor-oil scented envelope towards your face. “For you, darl! Take it and run!”

“No! Take mine!” Hog offered his pink envelope to you.

You quietly took both envelopes. “Th-thank you.” You whispered.

You didn’t think in a hundred years both of your Junker crushes would pass you love notes on Valentine’s Day. And to think you had to choose one of them to offer your V-Day note. Now, this was your chance.

“Here.” You gave the Junkers two heart-shaped notes. Both, written in gold ink, said:

I like you. Do you like me too? –(Y/N)

All eyes were on you. You couldn’t take the attention anymore. You scampered out of the cafeteria before the Junkers could say anything.

“Looks like we didn’t need to fight at all.” Junkrat laughed. Both Rat and Hog flipped the hearts over. You left them your phone number and private e-mail address.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Present Day

Your Apartment. 2078. Valentine’s Day.

“You think we’re going to have another indoor date?” Junkrat asked as he set up a romantic dinner in the middle of the living room floor.

Roadhog sighed. “No, we’re going out.”

“Really?” Junkrat blew the fire out from the candlelit dinner. “You know our Quiet One is not quite the people person.”

Roadhog chuckled behind his mask. “Give it time.”

You came out to the living room wearing a long winter coat. The Junkers stared at you curiously.

“Ready to go?” You asked your boyfriends. Junkrat sauntered towards you.

“What you got under there, lovely?” He purred. You backed away from him with a smile.

“No peeking until we get to the bar.”

Junkrat whimpered. “Just a little pee—”

“To the door, Rat.” Hog barked.

“Fine, fine.” Junkrat opened the front door for you. You stopped midway. A faint burning scent danced around your nostrils.

“Rat, did you leave the oven on again?” You asked.

Junkrat giggled. “I forgot about my brownies. Give me a sec. I’ll meet you and Hog down at the parking lot.” Junkrat rushed to the kitchen, cackling.

You rolled your eyes and smiled. “I’m so glad he hasn’t burned down the apartment yet.” You sighed.

Roadhog gently grabbed your hand. “Me too. We don’t need another damn landlord suing him.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Some folks from Headquarters invited you and the Junkers to a couples’ night out at a Japanese karaoke bar. You always passed the place on your way to and fro from work. It wasn’t your kind of hangout, too noisy. However, it was going to be different since you had new friends along with you.

“Oi, you’re here! You’re actually here!” Lena, also known as the famous Tracer, ran to you before you could say hi. “I know we don’t see each other much. Do you remember me?”

You shyly nodded. You’ve seen her frequently coming in and out of Winston’s office. She always needed some fixing with the complex piece strapped into her chest.

“Let me take you to the crew,” Lena said. She turned to the Junkers. “Do you mind?”

Roadhog waved his humongous hand. “No problem. Rat and I have to go to the restroom.”

“Do we?” Junkrat asked innocently. His face and hair were covered with soot. Apparently, he almost lost his battle saving his brownies from the oven. Roadhog silently dragged Rat to the little boys’ room.

You took a deep breath. This was your chance to be more social. You’ve been working for Overwatch for four years now. It’s about time to spread your social butterfly wings.

You’ve been watching your co-workers from afar. They’re great people. Thank God, it’s nothing like high school. Your first two years sucked big time. Fortunately, your GPA back then helped you graduate two years early.

You shook the awful, awkward high school memories out of your mind as Lena guided you through the raucous bar. Your stomach rumbled as you spotted a couple playfully feeding ramen to each other. You were definitely ordering a big bowl for yourself as you soon as you get settled.

“Here we are, love!” Lena pushed through a beaded curtain and lead inside a private VIP room. You first laid eyes upon a mysterious red-headed woman. She was in the middle of stuffing sushi into her mouth. She turned to you and waved.

The cowboy McCree was sitting on a pile of lounge cushions. His arm was wrapped around a Japanese man you’ve seen every blue moon at Headquarters. McCree whispered something into the man’s ear, and the man burst out laughing, blushing too.

“Hello there,” McCree greeted. “It’s about time you came out of the fox’s den.”

Lena grabbed your hand and lead you closer to McCree. “(Y/N), you know McCree, right? This is his boyfriend, Hanzo.”

Hanzo cleared his throat. “Partner.” He shook your hand. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Partner? Really?” McCree whined as he pulled Hanzo back into the cushions. “We’re more than partners, Bud.”

“Hello.” Someone squeaked behind you. It was the redhead again. She was more gorgeous up close.

“Oh, how could I forget?” Lena groaned. “This is the love of my life, Emily!”

“Nice to meet you.” You said.

“You too,” Emily shook your hand. “Lena told me so much about you. How did you end up dating—”

“We have arrived!” Junkrat announced as he leaped into the room. He gave you a quick peck on the cheek. “Hello, love! Getting along with everybody, I hope?”

Roadhog soon followed and spotted the sumptuous Japanese cuisine displayed on the table. “Is this for me?” He sat down and started eating.

“My California rolls…” McCree groaned.

“Don’t worry, we’ll order more. It’s on me.” Lena chirped.

“You mean, it’s on Jack’s tab.” Emily corrected.

“It’s Valentine’s Day. He’ll understand!”

You giggled as you imagined Jack staring at his bank statement with confusion at the hefty bill from a karaoke bar.

You spotted a coat hanger behind you. It was getting hot. It was time you finally removed your coat. Roadhog rushed over to your side as if he read your mind.

“Let me.” He said. You watched his large fingers as he helped you out of your coat. You heard him gasp. Luckily, no one else heard it.

“What’s wrong?” You turned to him and smiled. You stood before your surprised lover wearing a tight sangria-colored turtleneck dress. You wanted to wear something sensual but nothing too risqué.

“Hooley Dooley.” Junkrat gasped behind you.

You pretended it was nothing and shrugged your shoulders. “It’s just a simple dress. I had it in my closet for a while. You haven’t noticed?”

Honestly, you ordered the dress online a week ago. Many reviewers said wearing the dress gave them more attention from their lovers. Some even got laid for it. You had no plans for sex (yet), but you did have in mind a little extra friskiness from the Junkers.

“Where’s the karaoke machine?” You asked, trying to break the Junkers’ attention away from you for a second.

“It’s in the next room,” Emily said.

You tiptoed over to the conjoining room and moved the beaded curtain aside. A microphone stood in a center surrounded by more lounge cushions. A tiny mini bar stood in a corner. A J-Pop band danced on the television with the English lyrics appearing on the bottom of the screen.

“Do you sing, (Y/N)?” Lena asked you.

“I’ll try.” You replied.

Behind Lena, you noticed the Junkers were still gawking at you. You gave them a flirty wink, and they acted like they were going to keel over.

The Junkers were overall pleased you were willing to go out and open yourself to more people. They’ve never seen such progress since the three of you started dating two years ago. They watched you proudly as you shared your adventure stories traveling with Winston around the world.

You spoke little Japanese to Hanzo (which was a big surprise). You were stationed in Osaka for four months for a scientific expedition. You had to learn the basics to get around.

*~*~*~*~*~*

After the night was over, Roadhog carried your sleepy self to the bedroom. It was 2:32am. You were tired as all get out. Surprisingly, Junkrat was still full of energy, even though he had too many sake bombs to drink.

“Let’s sing another song!” Junkrat begged Roadhog.

“Shh!” Hog covered Rat’s entire face with his hand. “(Y/N) is tired.”

You only moaned and rolled around on the bed. “Could one of you guys tuck me in?” You asked the Junkers. “One of you can take the dress off.”

Junkrat let out a high-pitched gasp. You chuckled. Where did the heck did that noise come from?

Junkrat hopped into the bed with you and roamed his hands all over your body. “Come here, darl!”

“No, Rat, I get to do it!” Roadhog yelled as he yanked the Rat out of the bed. You could only laugh as the two argued over you and pulled on your dress.

What a way to end Valentine’s Day and a new chapter to your budding social life.

END

#overwatch fanfiction #junkrat x reader #roadhog x reader #jamison fawkes x reader #mako rutledge x reader #junkrat #roadhog #jamison fawkes #mako rutledge #poly roadrat x reader #stories #masterlist

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gimmeyoon · 5 years ago

Text

Say My Name

↳ Pairing: Seokjin x Reader | Mentions of Hoseok x Reader

↳ Setting: Beetlejuice AU

↳ Word Count: 6.4k

↳ Warnings: death, dirty talk, degradation, exhibition kink, lingerie kink, oral (f & m), unprotected sex (but it’s ghost sex and ghost’s don’t have little ghost babies or stds, unlike you, you alive human. It’s a present, wrap it).

❝So, you died. You’ve come to terms with it; watching over your boyfriend as you’re stuck haunting the apartment you used to live in. But now, he’s bringing new girls around, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t scare them off and you can’t leave. Time to call the ghost with the most for a little bio-exorcism, baby.❞

Alternatively: ❝ You, your “no respect for the dead” boyfriend, and the ghost with the most: a hauntingly good time.❞

↳ A/N: This beautiful header would not be possible without the goddess @/kinktae. My version was so ugly, on god. (Also clearly I made it before I was gimmeyoon and Idk where the original is so I’ll just suffer)

Also yes, this is a Halloween fic two days after Halloween let’s pretend this never happened and this was posted when it should have been uwu

You're dead.

It's not as strange or as extravagant as some people might think. It's mostly spending every second of your day in your apartment. An introvert's dream.

You're pretty sure every college student has joked about being hit by a campus bus to either get out of your finals, have your tuition paid, or whatever other inconvenience one could imagine poor driving and forgetting to look both ways could help remedy.

Except it didn't really fix anything, and you weren't asking for it. It just happened and you died.

It wasn't worth it.

But you’re dead now, and that’s just life, or you guess death.

Pros of being dead: you know thanks to your haunting situation, that your boyfriend Hoseok got all ‘As’ for the first-time last semester.

The haunting situation is something you hadn't expected. You're not sure you would call yourself a skeptic, but you certainly didn't imagine people were tied to their homes for decades with no where else to go. You suppose it's nice that you get to watch over Hoseok, but it's not like he'll be here forever.

He was so sad at first, it broke your heart. But he’s healing, and every day you try to leave him little promises that you’re still there like spraying your perfume in your room so that he smells you when he wakes up in the morning or by helping him keep the place clean. He hasn’t noticed really any of it, which you think is strange, since he must realize he doesn’t clean enough for the place to look like this.

That’s your life now, literally Hoseok’s maid. There’s nothing else you can do. You tried leaving the apartment once, and you were met with a creature you’ve never seen before and hope to never see again. It was otherworldly, that's all you can really say to describe it. You suppose you are too now.

You’re not sure if you can die again, probably not, but if you could, that thing would be the cause.

Hoseok turns off the light in the hallway as he walks back into your bedroom. He always looked so cute when he was sleepy; his hair ruffled and a small smile on his face. He crawls into his side of the bed, something that makes your heart fond. He still leaves space for you.

You lay down beside him, as you do every night. You turn to look at him, and for a moment it seems like he’s looking back at you. But he’s not. He never is.

And as he closes his eyes, you place a kiss to his forehead that has him swatting as if there is a bug when you pull away.

“Good night, Hoseok,” you said. “I love you.”

You remember what it was like when he used to say it back. It made you feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

One single pound against the door to your apartment has you jumping out of your skin. You remind yourself that you're dead as you pick up the heaviest object closest to you. It doesn't make your heart beat any slower.

You slowly make your way towards the door, as you hear it unlocking, and when it swings open, Hoseok appears oh.

You sigh in relief as you set the book you had grabbed down; not so sure it would have protected you anyways. Also, not so sure you needed protecting. So far, all the secrets to being dead were in a very dense book that you kept hidden from Hoseok in a box of your things that he had put in the back of your closet.

“Oh, Hoseok,” you said, a light laugh falling from your lips. “I was so worried.”

And then you see her. And before you can truly process what is happening, the thud happens again as he pushes her against the closed-again door.

“Oh my god,” you breathe as a hand comes up to cover your eyes. “This is not happening.”

You repeat this as you walk away from the entrance of the apartment to the kitchen. You consider looking for a knife, figuring a floating weapon would probably send the message you were looking to communicate, but a pull in your heart told you otherwise.

Hoseok deserved to be happy. He deserved to move on, even though you were pretty sure the mourning period for dead-too-soon girlfriend and supposed love of your life was not over yet. Regardless, Hoseok deserved to be happy.

You almost convince yourself that.

But god damn it, you deserve to be happy too.

Whatever Hoseok is doing, has that girl moaning obnoxiously loud, and if you have to hear that all night, you’ll go back to that creature in that wasteland and perish. It would probably be less painful than this. There's no way it could be worse.

You hear the bedroom door click shut, and your body relaxes a little. You didn’t realize how tense you were until now. You move out in the living room, laying your head on one decorative pillow and pressing another over your exposed ear. If you’re lucky, it’ll be over quickly, and you can pretend this never happened.

The TV turns on in front of you and you curse assuming you’ve laid down on the remote, but then you see it on the table.

You sit up quickly, your eyes glued to the advertisement before you.

"Do you have a human infestation that's making the afterlife, hell?" A man asks. He's sitting at a desk like he's a lawyer in one of those personal injury commercials, except you've never seen a lawyer with green hair like him. Regardless, you suppose it makes sense considering your heart has been seriously injured tonight.

"Do you just want to spend your after-days in peace just as you were promised on Earth, but the living keep getting in the way? If you answered yes to either of these questions, then I'm the man to call. The world's leading bio-exorcist, I'll make sure those that are ruining your retirement from life get what they deserve. Just say my name three time."

"Bio-exorcist?" you repeated, the word even feeling fake in your mouth. There was no way that was real.

"New family move into your home? Landlord trying to remodel? Boyfriend sleeping around?" He seemed to lean forward and meet your eyes as he said that, as if he not only knew that was your exact situation but could also see you.

It's enough to have you grabbing the remote quickly and turning the TV off. You take a few moments to calm down before lying back on the couch and closing your eyes.

Of all the weird things about being dead, that might just be the weirdest.

She left early the next morning and instead of your usual kind ways of reminding Hoseok you were still around, you settled on minor inconveniences.

When he was watching basketball later that day, you kept changing the channel. When he made Ramen for dinner, you made it cold before he could even take his first bite. When he went to bed that night, you kept dropping things, so that he got too nervous to sleep.

It was the only way you were able to say, 'I'm here, motherfucker, cut it out.'

You were lucky your boyfriend was a scaredy. It wasn’t difficult to scare him.

But as before, he doesn't think too much of it. Hoseok was easy to scare but a skeptic apparently. You considered cutting his hair in his sleep, how else would he explain that, but as you brushed his light brown hair away from his forehead. You couldn't bring yourself to do it.

He had grown it out a little since you'd died, and you liked how it looked. You had been worried it was because he was too sad to go to the barber. You weren't 100% sure that wasn't the case, but he took care of it, and it was the first time in a while he had styled his hair with his forehead showing.

It was nice but you sometimes wished you could just tell him you liked it. If only he could know that you thought he looked good that way.

He has another girl over the next weekend and you consider cutting his hair anyways.

The worst part is you mumble a thank you when you realize she's quieter than the last girl. You hate yourself for even thinking that. You hate that there's a situation where you would.

You’re in the living room again, reading your guide to being dead, when the newspaper falls from the table. You flinch at the movement, and for a moment wonder if there's a ghost in this apartment.

The next moment you're laughing lightly because of course there is.

You pick it up, still laughing to yourself, when something catches your eye. It's opened to an ad, and it's the same man from the TV ad a week ago. He's definitely the same man, green hair slicked back and strikingly handsome, but this time he wears a black and white striped suit. The ad reads the same as the commercial the other day, he's the world's best bio-exorcist and he can get rid of your human infestation. His name is written in big letters behind his smiling face, 'Beetlejuice.'

You're a little offended that he would refer to Hoseok as an infestation.

Another weekend later it's another girl. You're beginning to think it's all too much.

According to the book you’re stuck here for the next 125 years, and you’re not really in the mood to listen to Hoseok fuck whoever he pleases for the rest of his lease. God forbid he re-up it and stays another year.

If there is a god. You're not so sure even though you suppose you're the leading expert on this now. Is this Hell? It couldn't be heaven. There was never any briefing on the whole god thing when you died. Maybe it's in that god-forsaken book. God-forsaken, that's how you feel.

You say it without thinking the first time, just considering your options. “Beetlejuice.”

The second time you say it you get a little thrill at the thought of that girl running out of the apartment terrified. “Beetlejuice.”

The third time you hesitate for a moment. Hoseok does deserve to be happy. But then he moans, and you think he should rot. “Beetlejuice!”

He appears before you in a flash of light, that as you falling back in shock onto the couch. You're not sure what you thought incantation would do, He’s not what you expected, much more casual than his lawyer-like commercials, wearing an oversized hoodie, skinny jeans, and sneakers. He would fit in on your college campus well, especially with his green hair.

“Beetlejuice?” you ask, gaping up at him.

“You rang?” he smiled. “God, nothing gets me off quite like a beautiful woman who can’t stop saying my name. Feel free to call me Seokjin from now on. I’d say we’re friends at this point, I mean look at us, who would have thought?”

You sit there in silence just staring at him and letting the situation sink in. He came out of no where and said that.

“Oh good, I called a pervert into my apartment.”

“I believe you called the world’s leading bio-exorcist," he said, rolling his eyes.

“Why does it sound like you’re the world’s only bio-exorcist.”

He laughed at this throwing an arm over your shoulder. "You know, I get that a lot?"

"You certainly don’t look like the world’s leading anything."

“What not dressed for the job?” he frowned as he shook his head. Suddenly he snapped his fingers and he was wearing the black and white striped suit from the print ad. “What about now?”

“Great,” you deadpanned.

"Now, what seems to be the matter at hand?"

As if on cue, Hoseok moans from the bedroom.

"Got some noisy house guests?" he asked, a smirk on his face.

"My boyfriend has no respect for the dead," you replied, staring intensely at the bedroom door.

"Oh, love," he said. "what's it good for besides heart break?"

You didn't answer him, your attention captured by the activities in the other room. It almost physically hurt, as if the sound could slap you across the face.

"Listen, kid," he said, snapping his fingers and bringing your attention back to him. "I can help you fix this problem, but I'm going to need something else in return."

"What do you need?" you asked, a bit skeptically. His ads never said anything about that and you sort of doubted that it was going to be a fair price. Maybe it was the suit that made you suspicious, the green hair, or maybe it was his general aura. It was probably all three together.

"I'm what some might call, on the run," he said. "I was cursed into this horrible, dead end job, seriously no areas for advancement, just serving the dead for the rest of my life, and I couldn't take it anymore. So I left, but that made me a wanted man. If you want me to scratch your back, even though it is a wonderful back," he said, his eyes drifting to your ass and staying there for longer than you would like, "then I'll need you to scratch mine."

"Sounds horrifying," you said, glaring at him.

"Don't knock it until you try it, kid."

"What do you need from me," you said, curtly.

"To break the curse, I need to marry a living person. We'll get your boy out of here, get someone new to move in, you be my wing woman and then bada bing bada boom we've got a broken curse and human infestation taken care of."

"What person in their right mind would marry a ghost?"

Seokjin winks at you. "The ghost with the most baby, any guy or gal would be so lucky."

“What’s he afraid of?” Seokjin asks later as the two of you stand over Hoseok as he sleeps.

“Everything,” you replied.

“Everything? Then why do you need my help?”

“He’s not paying attention to anything I do I guess.”

“Common problem in relationships. The chick just talk talk talks and the guy never listens.”

“You’re an ass, you know that?”

“An ass with a great ass,” he responds, turning his butt towards you and pulling your hand towards him.

“Rot,” you respond, as you tear your hand from him before it touches it.

“Somewhere I am, or I guess I probably already have.”

“Yeah? How long have you been dead?”

“700 years?” he says, looking off into the distance.

“Jesus,” you said, shaking your head, eyes wide at the thought.

“No, Seokjin. Jesus died nearly 2,000 years ago.”

“Thanks for the history lesson, Beetlejuice.”

“Stop,” he warned, his face growing dark and serious. “Call me Beetlejuice again, and I’ll eat your boyfriend.”

“Can you eat him?” you asked warily, moving in between Hoseok and Seokjin.

“Sure,” he said with a shrug. “Who’s going stop me?”

“The laws of physics.”

“If you can touch him you can eat him,” Seokjin said, placing a hand on Hoseok’s face, causing the latter to stir in his sleep.

“Put that on a t-shirt.”

“Done,” Seokjin said, snapping his fingers.

You looked down to find a black t-shirt now adorning your body with the aforementioned phrase across from it.

“You’re right, you shouldn’t be a civil servant. You should be in the t-shirt game,” you said before turning to walk to the kitchen.

"Bio-exorcist by day," he said, his hands accenting his words dramatically as he followed you, "t-shirt entrepreneur by night," he seemed to consider it for a moment. "I like the way you think, kid."

Seokjin pauses for a moment, just looking back at you as if he is trying to get a better sense of you.

"If he’s scared of everything," Seokjin said. "Then this should be easy, but personally I think we should have fun with it. I mean, if I’m not scaring I’m not caring, you know?”

"I know you're the expert," you said, raising your eyebrows in scrutiny. "but I don’t want to scare him too much. I mean I love him."

"Listen babe, this isn’t about love it’s about respect and he’s not giving you that, Aretha Franklin style."

"Please don’t sing."

Of course he does his rendition of the song, accompanied by some minor choreography that makes you wonder if he’s done this before. He's actually a good singer though his future as a choreographer isn't looking good. It’s a little too on-the-nose dance wise.

"What is your plan?" you asked cutting him off in the second verse of the song.

"Well the way I see it we have a few options. Personally this wouldn't be the first time I turn into a gigantic snake and I’m guessing he’s afraid of snakes."

"You’re right about the snakes," you said hopping up to sit on the counter, "and that’s exactly why I can’t let you turn into a gigantic one."

"What’s the fun in that?" he asked. "Do you want him to leave this apartment and stop fucking random women in front of you or did you just call me for a good time? Frankly it’s not a good time without my gigantic snake," he said winking at the end which caused you to roll your eyes and scoff.

You stared back at him unamused. "Think of something less scary but still scary enough to have him move out."

"Toots, you’re putting me in a difficult situation," he said leaning back against the counter. "Just leave it the expert."

"If you’re an expert you should be able to come up with a different plan."

He smiled at this, though his gaze looked angry. "You drive a hard bargain," he said, laughing with little humor. "How do you feel about light possession?"

"I don’t even know what that means," you said, your eyes wide. "How can you lightly possess someone?"

"When you’re as good as me, you can do just about anything."

"Sounds fake," you said, hopping down from the counter and moving back into the living room. "lets rule out any type of possession."

"You’re really grabbing me by the balls and not in the way I like," he said following you into the living room and flopping down on the couch.

"Does it look like I care what you like?"

"Hey you’re the one who called me?" he said, looking at you accusatorially.

"No one ever said I always make good decisions," you said, looking for the newspaper that had his ad in it. "How can I send you back?"

"Hey let’s not act rationally," he said jumping up from the couch and walking quickly to you.

"Don’t you mean rashly?" you asked, looking up at him for only a moment before looking for the paper again.

"I said what I said and I meant it."

"Come up with a good plan now," you said, giving up on finding the paper. "Or I’ll figure out how to send you back."

"Fine, you’re really pulling my arm but what about this? I’m thinking classic haunting," he said, setting the stage with his movements. "I’m talking blood dripping down the walls, things falling off shelves, 'redrum' written on the mirror and the works. He’ll be running quicker than you can say 'boo.'"

"I like that plan because it seems to include no potential physical harm."

"I thought you might," he smirked.

"So when do we do it," you asked.

"Once he’s alone with nothing to distract him or try and explain it away."

That time comes the next afternoon as you and Seokjin stand behind Hoseok as he sat on the couch. You and Seokjin's arms brush against each other and you immediately push him away. Seokjin looks over at you with minor annoyance on his face.

"This is pretty lame, so if anyone asks, I was not a part of this," he said.

"Don’t worry," you said. "I don’t think all I ever see anyone as I'm dead now but even if I did, you don't have to worry. I wouldn’t want to be associated with you."

"Promise?" he asked, batting his eyelashes as if you had just said the nicest thing.

"Swear on my death."

Seokjin nods his head, before turning to look down at Hoseok. "Now," he said, before disappearing before your very eyes.

It even sends a chill up your spine, so you almost feel bad for what all of this is going to do to Hoseok. You pull the lipstick out of your pocket. You had grabbed it earlier from the box of your things in the back of the closet. A small part of you wished he would recognize the color and realize you were here with him. A larger part of you knew that would never happen.

You walk to the mirror at the entrance of the apartment and write 'redrum' in the scariest font you can manage with the lipstick.

You feel something drip on you as your writing and look up to find Seokjin has already started the blood effect wherever he's gone off to.

You make your way to the TV, rubbing the blood on your jeans as you move, and for a moment just stand in between Hoseok and the device. You think of the few times you've done it before, where Hoseok has whined and asked you to move out of the way so he could keep watching the game or whatever it was that was on.

Now he looks right through you. He has no idea you're even there. It still stings as much as it first did. You turn away from him to write on the TV screen. You touch the lipstick to the screen just as Hoseok cures behind you.

"What the fuck?" he said, standing up from the couch and moving to the entry way of the apartment.

You almost feel giddy as he looks up at the blood staining the walls.

"I can't fucking believe it," he said, shaking his head. "This fucking landlord."

Hoseok ran his hands over his face in exasperation before pulling his phone out and taking some pictures of the blood, not even seeming to notice the writing on the mirror. Just then Seokjin pushed all of his textbooks off of the table, but Hoseok didn't even flinch.

"Hey," Hoseok said his phone to his ear. "Yeah, the pipes burst again, and I really need you to fix it this time," he huffed at whatever was said on the other line. "No, I know you said you fixed, but I'm telling you there's shit coming down my walls again."

"If that's what his shit looks like," Seokjin said as he reappeared beside you, causing you to gasp and flinch in shock, "then he seriously has a problem and needs to get it checked out."

"I don't understand," you said, motioning to Hoseok grabbing his jacket and heading out of the apartment. "He didn't even see the word on the mirror. I mean this is the shit that has people running out of the building in terror in movies." "The living have no respect for the dead," Seokjin shrugged. "Not to mention your plan sucked."

"This was your plan," you reminded him.

"I told you it wasn’t enough."

"You are the worst," you yelled as you made your way to the bedroom. "I swear to god, you have been nothing but a headache since you got here. You're not the world's leading bio-exorcist your the world's leading pain in the ass."

"Oh I'd love to be a pain in you ass," he said following behind you. "Say the word, and I'll lube up."

"If you weren't already dead I would murder you."

"The feeling is mutual," he said, stepping closer to you. "Do you know what I think?"

"I don't care whatever it is."

"I think you don't actually want your boy to leave," he stepped closer again, causing you to step back. "I think you want him to finally notice you. You want him to realize you're here and stop fucking those other girls."

"Wow, did you get a PhD in stating the obvious? Of course I want the man I love to realize I’m still here. I love him, you asshole."

"Then why did you call a bio-exorcist?" he asked, backing you into the wall. "You're wasting my time."

"Because nothing I do makes him notice me," you said, fighting the urge to spit in his face.

"I don't think you're trying hard enough," he said, just as the door to the apartment opened again. "Why don't I help you?" he said, leaning in so that his face was mere centimeters from yours. "Have you tried some good old-fashioned ghost moaning?"

Your breath catches in your throat as whatever insult you had prepared dies on your tongue. You loathe Seokjin, but the idea of getting back at Hoseok has you contemplating his suggestion.

"Hm," Seokjin mused as you didn't respond. "Ghost got your tongue?"

"Shut up, and put it to good use," you said, leaning in the rest of the way and pulling him into a hungry kiss.

Seokjin kisses down the length of your body, working quickly on your pants as soon as he reaches the waist band. You step out of your pants and despite his previous pace, he stops to look at your underwear, a frown on his face. He looks up at you slowly.

"I'm going to need to fix that," he said, before snapping his fingers.

"If you gave me a dick, I'll actually feed you to the snake thing I ran into the other day," you said hurriedly as you looked down.

Seokjin laughed loudly as he pulled on your arm to move you to the bed. He had replaced your underwear, switching out the cotton panties for a strappy red lace number, that you would never consider buying.

"You like lingerie," you said under your breath, lying down and looking up at the ceiling as your racing heart calmed down.

"Where'd you go?" he asked, crawling back on top of you.

"I'm having ghost sex," you said, laughing a little bit at the end.

"Great ghost sex," he winked, before helping you take your shirt off as well. He replaced your bra as well, the crimson matching set striking compared to what you normally wore.

"Beautiful," he mumbled, kissing your breast over the bra, before looking at you with a devilish grin. "How long until Hoseok comes into the bedroom?"

"We'll find out sooner or later," you mumbled as he kissed the band of your panties.

"Do you think it'll be before the first time you cum?" he asked, kissing your clit through the panties. "Or do you think it'll be before the second time?"

"Definitely before the third," you said, causing Seokjin to laugh.

"Greedy slut," he said, before sucking at your clit, the barrier of the panties causing you to whine for more.

"Pervert," you breathed as he gripped tightly to his hips. "You'd love to watch me get off three times."

"You know," he said, his finger sliding under the band of you underwear. "You really annoy me."

"The feeling is mutual," you said, lightly pushing his head back towards your core. "Scratch my back and I'll scratch your's."

"You drive a hard bargain," he winked before pulling the lingerie off of your body. He sat it down beside you instead of throwing it on the ground and you considered teasing the delicate way he treated it, but just as you formulated your remark, he liked a strip up your cunt, having you sigh in satisfaction.

You're not surprised that he teases you, giving your clit the attention it wants, only to take it away again, laughing lightly against you. He takes pleasure in your moans, his hands gripping more tightly at your hips every time you get lost in the pleasure. It seems to ground you in the moment.

You're close to reaching your high when you hear the door open and look over to see Hoseok entering the room.

Seokjin stops his movements and looks up, causing you to whine lightly.

"Before the first time," he shrugged, before looking at you with a smirk. "Louder," he said before burying his head between your legs again.

He harshly sucked your clit into his mouth, and you didn't hold back the moan that started in the pit of you chest. Hoseok is unaware of your presence, but your knowledge of his has each movement of Seokjin's tongue feeling better and better.

You never knew you would like this, but as you think about every girl you heard in this room you feel desire grow in the pit of your stomach. Your reaching your peak quickly, your hands winding into Seokjin's hair as you cum hard on his tongue.

You're panting when Seokjin comes back up a smirk on his face. "Scratch mine," he said, pulling his shirt over his head.

You roll your eyes in response, but your hands come up to undo his belt. The two of you work to rid him of his jeans and you can only scoff in response when Seokjin props himself up against the headboard of the bed, his arms crossed behind his head.

"Can you make him see us?" you whispered, a bit embarrassed by the question.

Seokjin looked over at Hoseok and shrugged. "Maybe. If I turned into a cyclops he would probably notice us, but he could see us right now if he paid attention to the strange and unusual."

"Yes, that's exactly how I'd describe fucking you." "Less talk," he said, his eyes narrowing.

"Mhm," you hummed as you ran your hands up his thighs. You kiss his cock lightly over his boxer briefs, before hooking your fingers into the band and pulling them down. You must gape slightly at the size of his dick, because Seokjin laughs lightly. When you look up at him he seems pretty proud of himself.

"I said it was a gigantic snake."

"Choke," you said, rolling your eyes.

"Say please, and I will," he winked, looking down at your throat.

You rolled your eyes, as you took his cock in your hand, to which Seokjin took a sharp breath.

"Interesting," you said, looking up at him with a wink. "It looks like you're the one who should be saying please." "Listen, babe, I'm not about begging."

You chuckled lightly, before licking up the length of his cock. You took the tip into your mouth, sucking lightly, and then taking him in deeper.

Seokjin moans loudly and you wonder partly if you're actually doing that good of a job or if he's trying to catch Hoseok's attention.You can't watch your boyfriend from this angle, so instead you imagine what he's doing. The thought that he could be standing shocked behind you, too caught off guard to do anything but watch has your pussy clenching around nothing and desire building in your core again.

"Fuck," Seokjin said. "Swallow."

And you do, swallowing around him before he comes and after, pulling your mouth off of him as he smiles with his eyes closed.

"Watch this," he said, looking back at you and winking, before he snapped his fingers. He's hard again instantly, which is a little unsettling and the grimace on your face must communicate as such.

"I never thought it was fair girls could just cum again if they wanted to."

"Really?" you said, as he grabbed your hand and pulled you towards him so you were straddling his lap. "I never thought it was fair guys came practically every time we had sex and I was lucky to come 1/4 of the time."

"Very unfair," Seokjin said, nodding his head. "I've always recognized the power of the female orgasm." "Why don't I believe you?"

"Because you're horribly mean to me."

"Poor baby," you said, lining yourself up above his cock. "The girl that just sucked your dick makes fun of you."

"I liked it better when you had a dick in your mouth and couldn't talk."

"I liked it better when you were too fucked out to say something gross." "Then let's get to it," he said, his hands gripping at your ass as you sank down on him.

The stretch has you moaning, and despite your abhorrence that he was right, Seokjin does have a big dick and the way it fills you is delicious. He gives you a moment to adjust before his hands are helping you ride him, his mouth moving to suck at your neck.

When he pulls away he doesn't look at you, but behind you.

"You want him to see? Be too loud for him to ignore," he said, looking back at you. "Show him how mad he made you. Show him what he's missing. Show him two people can play his game."

You moan in response, turning your body to see Hoseok. He's sitting at his desk, likely doing school work, none the wiser that two dead people are fucking in his bed. He briefly turns towards the bed, his eyes seeming to fall on your body just as Seokjin moves again to suck at the other side of your neck.

"Maybe if he sees us we can both fuck you," Seokjin said before biting at your ear. "Would you like that?"

"Seokjin,” you moan.

“You want to remind him how good you take dick.”

“Seokjin,” you moan just as he thrusts deeper into you. “Seokjin.”

"You act like a prude," Seokjin said, moaning as he thrusts up into you. "But you're really a slut aren't you? You'd do anything to get back at him."

"Yes," you moaned, turning back to Seokjin. "Fuck me so good he can't ignore us," you said.

"What do you think I've been trying to do," Seokjin grunted, thrusting up into you again.

You're reaching your high a few thrusts later, moaning louder than you ever have as Seokjin cums inside of you at the same time.

The two of you are panting, lying chest to chest on the bed as you ground yourself back in reality. When you roll off of him you look over to see Hoseok still studying.

You feel better knowing you weren't powerless in this situation, that you too could move on, but something in you wishes he had opened his eyes and seen it. Some untapped kink you didn't even know existed until Seokjin came into your death.

The new plan might involve some physical injury. You've made Seokjin promise that he wouldn't, but frankly everything about Seokjin materializing as the girl from The Grudge sounds like someone's getting hurt, and probably not Seokjin. Hoseok is dancing through the hallway to the kitchen when Seokjin appears at the end of it. Or rather, the little nightmare girl he's pretending to be.

Hoseok doesn't notice at first, he's looking down at his feet as follows the melody of the song, but when he finally looks up, all of the color drains from his face and he stops in his tracks.

He blinks his eyes rapidly, as if he has something in his eyes rather than the physical embodiment of evil being a few feet from him, but soon his body catches up with his mind and he's running from the house.

He screams as he runs and you flinch when he almost trips over one of his shoes, that you have the sneaking suspicion Seokjin placed in his way.

He doesn't come back, or at least not alone. Yoongi and Namjoon, his friends from school, come back with him to help him get his stuff and move out. A couple of times Yoongi teases Hoseok for being afraid of this place, because it's the least haunted apartment he's ever been in. Namjoon scolds him and points to the box in the back of the closet with your name on it.

You've already gone through it and taken out anything you want to keep yourself. It was mostly just a few pictures of the two of you and your favorite lipstick that you never put back. You hid them in the couch cushions and hoped that they didn't check for lose change or anything.

A few months pass and no one moves in. Seokjin thinks rumors probably spread after Hoseok ran from the place screaming so no one wants to move in.

You figure he's right, because you certainly wouldn't want to.

It's strange how the two of you start to move and live comfortably around each other, though it is unfair that Seokjin can leave. He usually spends all day with the living and comes back to tell you something interesting he learned.

You feel even more like a housewife than you did with Hoseok. At least now you get to hear about your hard-working "husbands" day.

It’s half a year later when someone finally comes to tour the apartment. You and Seokjin are making out on the bed when you hear the landlord enter and soon Seokjin is tearing his lips from your breast and looking in the direction of the entrance.

"Finger's crossed they can see dead people," he said winking at you.

"Apartment tour and a show," you laughed, pushing him off of you.

The two of you make your way to the living room to see who would be so lucky to call Seokjin their future husband potentially. You almost fall on the floor with laughter as she comes into view.

Standing in he living room with your ex-landlord is a woman who must be nearly 80 years old.

“What?" Seokjin asks, over your laughter.

“I don’t know how much longer your future bride will be living.

“How horrible of you? Where are your manners? That is my wife!”

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you said, waving your hand at him. "I don't mean to be ageist, I just know your little pervert brain did not have this in mind."

"Please don't call me a pervert in front of my wife," he said, pushing you to the side. "I think you're just jealous?"

"Of who?" you asked, laughing harder. "You? Or the woman you're going to try and convince to marry a dead man?"

"If you want to marry me, just say so," he smirked.

"Not even if you were the last dead man in this apartment."

#seokjin smut #bts smut #sekojin x reader #jin smut #jin fanfic #seokjin fanfic #bts writing #magicshopnet

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suhnandmoon · 5 years ago

Text

new friends | neighbor!felix au

description: your new neighbor was definitely someone you wouldn’t have expected. what happens when her brother starts to catch feelings for you?

pairing: felix x reader

genre: neighbor!au, fluff

word count: 3k

inspired by this post

moving into a new apartment is always,, how would you put it?

interesting

take that as you will,,,

sometimes it’s fun !! and exciting !!

your last apartment could’ve been sucky,,

maybe your neighbors were too loud, you had a bad roommate never washed the dishes, or there was a dog that never seemed to shut up

moving out meant you were free from all of that !

other times,,

it’s not as wonderful :(

your landlord could’ve left a bad impression upon first introduction

or you nearly stepped on a spider as you just walked through the door

but let’s escape from the hypotheticals

you needed that fresh start,, you wanted to look at the positive side of things!

you already moved in so set yourself up with a fresh cup of coffee, ready to start the day ahead of you

you were about to get up when you heard a knock on the door followed by an excited giggle.

the voice came from a young child, who you assumed to be a neighbor of yours coming to introduce themselves.

making your way towards the door, you hear the voice speak up,

“excuse me mam? are you our new neighbor? if so, i’m haeun !! ”

you had to laugh

you were a day into your new home and you were already greeted with a cute surprise

you wouldn’t say you adored kids, but they definitely weren’t horrible

as long as they aren’t in big numbers, that is

but that’s a story for another day,,,

opening the front door, you looked down to see the girl, haeun, bouncing up and down in place waiting for you to engage in her conversation

“hi haeun, i’m y/n! how are you doing?”

you crouched down to meet her height, preparing yourself for a longer conversation

kids love to talk.

“i’ve been soooo bored! but now i’m not because you’re now my new friend so i can play with you, right?”

you smiled, it’s endearing that she considers you her friend after meeting you ten seconds ago

“of course! i’d love that!”

“soooooo…..”

…..

….

“do you have a boyfriend?”

what?

you forgot that children don’t have the best attention spans so the conversations might range from their favorite foods to whether or not you have a love life,,

“no-”

“oh! how about a girlfriend?”

“i um- i don’t?”

“wow! you’re so lucky~ all the boys in my class keep asking me to spend recess with them! it’s so tiring, you’re lucky!”

you spent another fifteen minutes talking to her before she skipped back to her apartment humming to a tune she mentioned was her favorite song

you had a feeling that this wasn’t the last time you’d talk to lee haeun

you’re feeling was correct

she showed up the next day

and the next

and the n e x t

not that you were complaining, she was definitely made your day better !!

she showed up one day and she immediately asked you:

“do you have a job?”

“yeah i do! it’s kinda boring,, i don’t think you’d enjoy it”

“i don’t care about jobs but my grandma does! she keeps bugging my brother to get one. he’s sooooo lazy!”

>:(

those were the faces she made right in front of you

“y/n i have an idea !!!!”

“you should be my sister! switch places with my brother, my grandma already loves you!”

it was true

earlier, her grandmother was upset at haeun for sneaking away every morning

once she found out she was with you, she lightened up and invited you inside her apartment

you knew that she was raising haeun and her brother, who you had yet to meet, all by herself

she thanked you for looking after haeun

apparently she’s been talking about you, but their family though you were just her imaginary friend

you thought that was funny

anyways,,, speaking of her brother, you heard him call out for haeun:

“haeun where are you?? you can’t keep sneaking off!”

“gosh felix, don’t me mean !! all you do is sit in front of that tv of yours and play video games! don’t complain about me!”

it’s always interesting to hear sibling’s banter, but you were sort of hoping they didn’t take very long…

you were lucky because felix stomped out into the hallway only to see the two of you seated in front of your door, with you staring up at him

his eyes widened when he realized that there was someone with haeun

especially someone as cute as you

“see look at felix, y/n! he looks like he just woke up, but he’s been awake since four in the morning just to play fortnite with his friends!”

looking at his disheveled hair and pajamas, you giggled along with haeun, even though he didn’t even look bad

is it even possible to look that good without even trying?

how does his hair not look horrible from not even checking it ??

what’s his skincare routing ???

that’s not the point

,,,

felix also looked embarrassed

that’s maybe not the best first impression to have with someone you would like to impress,,,

what else had haeun told you about him?

“haeun, i- um,,, grandma wants to ask you a question!”

he blurted as he ushered his sister out, cheeks glowing red

before leaving, he turned to you:

“sorry if haeun starts to bother you, let me know if she is!”

you laughed

w o w

felix thought your laugh was absolutely beautiful that he accidentally stopped paying attention to what you said after that

so he just nodded, smiled, and turned around, hoping that you didn’t think he was a total fool

now let’s fast forward a few months,,

haeun’s daily visits hadn’t stopped ever since you met her

so imagine your surprise when you see felix standing there in place of haeun one day

he was actually dressed up today, you assumed he had to go somewhere important

maybe he had a job interview because haeun always complained about her brother being unemployed

maybe he had a date !!

that’s unrelated let’s not think of that :((

sooo

why is lee felix standing in front of your door today?

“hey y/n, i know this is out of the ordinary, but i wanted to thank you for being friends haeun. i live with her so i know how annoying she can get, but ever since we started living with our grandmother, she hasn’t been her usual self around us. i don’t really want to get detailed but now that you’re here, we can see a big difference in her. thank you for doing this. we really appreciate it”

“also”

“please don’t tell my grandmother or haeun that i said this, they’ll never stop teasing me about it”

….

…

you didn’t know what to say

you weren’t aware how much of an effect you had on this little girl’s life

you were touched, you would’ve started to cry if he didn’t add that last part

thank goodness he did, because you didn’t want to cry in front of him

“you looked like you were about to cry?? are you okay?”

HOW DID HE KNOW

….

“no”

“okay good because i don’t know if i would be about to comfort someone when sad...”

“thank you for letting me know, i appreciate it”

you weren’t expecting all of this information to come out of felix of all people

you were touched that you had that effect on haeun

but to hear felix telling you this,,,

lee felix

the boy who you hear stories about him locked up in his room playing games with his friends

the boy who constantly argues with his little sister over who has to fold laundry that day

the boy you barely knew, yet heard so much about from his sister

“it’s fine! i’m sorry for dropping that all on you… i just thought you should know, even though i don’t really talk to you.”

laughing, you realized you haven’t seen his sister today:

“speaking of which, where is haeun? she normally stops over around this time”

“oh !! haeun has the flu, i heard it was spreading around her class… luckily i’m going out of the house for an interview so that’s two hours of me away from her!”

it wasn’t a date !!

why were you so happy?

soooo

he does have an interview!

“hey! what’s so funny? why are you laughing?”

he feigned annoyance, but he was glad that you weren’t sick of him talking to you too much

“it’s just that haeun always complains about you not having a job that i’m surprised you’re actually going for one!”

“she told you whAT”

“nothing~ you don’t want to be late for your interview felix!”

he shouldn’t have been surprised that haeun was telling you this about him honestly

before leaving, he asked you something:

“when i get out of my interview, is it okay if i swing by? i don’t want to risk my sister getting me sick and i realized that we don’t even know each other that well… if it’s okay with you we could um,,, maybe talk more?”

your eyes widened, but you welcomed the idea

“of course! i hope your interview goes well!”

….

you found felix easy to talk to

conversation flowed easily and you two actually shared many interests

he expressed that he enjoyed dancing and showed you a few dance videos he was trying to learn

you were able to get some recommendations on who to watch since you were interested in the art of it

not actually dancing

but you found yourself constantly watching different choreographies, wishing you had that talent

before you knew it, it was already late into the day and felix found himself not wanting to leave

“i think it’s time for me to get going,,, we should do this again sometime?”

“felix you act like we aren’t neighbors, feel free to stop by whenever! your sister already does it!”

and with that, the two of you parted

felix forgot to tell his sister and grandma that he was at your place so when he came back, they were surprised he was away for so long

“felix, do you actually have real friends you’re hanging out with!?”

haeun would’ve jumped up around him if she wasn’t currently laying on the couch since she was sick

“hey! i was just with y/n next door! we were talking about how annoying you are~”

“y/n would never! waiT- Y/N?”

her eyes widened, like she thought of something,,, but she continued with her conversation:

“why were you with y/n, felix?” ;)

“haeun did you forget we’re neighbors? we were just catching up since we haven’t formally met”

“whatever you say~”

for a nine year old, she sure was nosy

and felix was sure she would continue to talk about y/n to him now

after felix left your apartment, you couldn’t help but look forward to your next meeting

he was a charmer

and not at all what you expected him to be

no offence to him

to be fair, you only knew about him from his sister, who seemed to have an obvious slant in her opinion

you hadn’t expected to get along with him that well, you’ve never connected with someone as much before

you couldn’t seem to shake the thought of you two being together

he’s your neighbor, you’ll make things awkward if you catch feelings

but then again, how could you not?

you groaned

why is this so hard???

you’ll probably end up pushing these feelings to the back of your mind until you moved on only to have the process repeat with someone else

you go to sleep that night planning on visiting haeun to see if she’s feeling better

and

if you just so happen to run into felix, it would be an extra bonus…

once you woke up, you went to the grocery store to buy ingredients for soup

once that was out of the way, you showed up in front of her apartment

her grandmother (who’s turning into your own grandma, too) opened the door:

“hi y/n! i’m sorry if haeun hasn’t visited lately, she’s terribly sick!”

“oh felix told me! i brought some soup for her so she’d feel better,, do you mind if i see her?”

“of course not! but you didn’t have to do this, honey! but im sure the kids will be excited to see you”

the kids? does that mean she thinks felix would be happy to see you too?

nonono stop that

she probably didn’t mean it that way and you’re overreacted

but what if you’re not?

haha,,,, unless?

so you went inside and found haeun on the couch with blankets piled on top of her looking miserable

the poor girl has been cooped up in the same spot TOO long for someone as energetic as her

“haeun, i came to visit you!”

as soon as she heard you, you could feel the energy in the room shift

“y/n!!! what are you doing here!”

“your brother told me you were sick, so i made you some soup! i missed your visits so we need to get you feeling better!”

she seemed to miss the whole point of what you were telling her when she heard you talk about her brother

“felix told you i was sick???”

she had an innocent smile on her face but you knew

you knew she was going to tease you about felix just from the tone of her voice

and to make things sooooo much easier for you

lee felix himself stepped into the room

you feared this would only fuel her ambitions even more…

were you wrong?

nope

“felix, we were just talking about y/n’s new boyfriend!”

b o y f r i e n d ? ? ?

who does this girl think she is !

looking to felix, you tried to read his expression

how would he react if you hypothetically did have a boyfriend?

just curious !!

you could’ve sworn felix looked upset, but was that just your mind playing games with you again?

“haeun i don’t have a boyfriend! what are you talking about?”

you were trying to shut down this conversation before she kept going with it..

“oh nevermind~ i was just thinking about that time you were telling me about that cute co-worker of yours…”

you most definitely never said anything about a cute coworker,, but before you could protest, felix was already out of the room

“haeun why’d you do that!”

“i just wanted to see how you two would react !”

she said that cheekily and she was lucky she was cute or else she wouldn’t have been able to get away with that…

“anyways,, do you actually have a boyfriend ??”

“no! you don’t need to be worrying about that stuff yet!!”

you were hoping she’d change the subject soon, but even if she did, you knew she would bring it back up later

and that’s exactly what she did

a week after that encounter, she started to visit your doorstep again pushing that topic

all of her questions seemed to be aimed towards felix too

haeun thought she was being subtle, trying to convince you to talk to felix but she was acting the exact opposite of that

felix never heard the end of those questions, too

he honestly felt embarrassed that his sister kept bothering you,, you must be tired of hearing about him

is it going to be awkward between the two of you now?

let’s pray it isn’t

he needed to set the record straight

also,, opening your door to reveal a flustered felix wasn’t something you expected but you’ll take it!

“hey i seem to only visit now because of me telling you something about haeun but i really should apologize. she’s been very set on the idea of the two of us together,, it must be annoying hearing her talk about that 24/7…”

felix wasn’t making eye-contact with you, making the tension rise

you attempted to lighten the mood by laughing, but that only made him look up at you

your laugh trailed off as soon as saw him

could this situation be any worse??

“no, no!! it’s fine,,, she’s just a kid, she’s just looking out for her brother.. even if it’s not in the most predictable way! let’s not make this awkward for us since you don’t even like me,,,”

you tried to not sound disappointed in that last sentence, though you’ve already come to terms that he didn’t feel the same

“i wouldn’t say that,,”

he mumbled the last part so you almost didn’t hear

but you did !!!

“wait,, what did you say?”

were your ears deceiving you? did felix like you or were you starting to turn delusional?

“nothing, sorry y/n i need to leave”

his face was a deep shade of red, but you were too shocked to notice

he swiftly turns around, ready to leave

“felix, get back here! i like you too!!”

he was already halfway to his apartment where he freezes

“huh?”

“i like you back, idiot! i thought it was obvious…”

after saying that, you ran back to him

felix was still surprised from your last statement, but he still slowly took your hands in his

“you actually like me? are you sure haeun didn’t force you into anything??”

you laughed

“felix, how many times do i need to tell you? i really really like you,, if i say it anymore times, i’d be repeating myself”

“i’d be fine with that”

you rolled your eyes, but matched his grin

felix was truly something...

“so, what would you say to a date tomorrow?”

his request made your smile bigger

“i’d love that”

needless to say, a nine year old girl managed to score you a date

something you’d never imagine to happen, but you’re glad it did

walking back to your apartment,, you thought of something

“hey felix?

“yes?”

“so,, do you think we should tell haeun?”

“nah”

#lee felix #felix x reader #felix imagines #felix scenarios #lee Felix x reader #stray kids #stray kids fluff #Felix fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids felix #kpop #kpop x reader #stray kids x reader #neighbor au #felix

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bellakitse · 5 years ago

Text

Of cute beagles and decidedly cuter owners

For @gra-sonas who had this excellent post and let me use it. I hope this is fluffy enough for you, hon!

Michael, Rosa, Kyle, and Jenna just moved into a new place that doesn't allow pets, luckily across the street is the cutest beagle ever. Rosa is ready to plan a dog-nap, Michael suggests writing a note to the owner instead.

All Rosa wants is to play with Buffy, while all Michael wants is Buffy's owner.

Michael arrives home sometime after six p.m., the hallway of the modest townhouse he and his roommates moved into, still has boxes lying around. They've been in the two-story home for three weeks now. But with work and school, no one has found the time to finish unpacking. Michael has his new teaching post at the university while he works on his doctorate. Kyle has medical school. Jenna, a rookie cop, works crazy hours, and Rosa, their resident artist, has been using all her waking hours to work on a set of pieces she hopes will end up in the city’s next art exhibit. None of them have been particularly motivated to put boxes away, but Michael is starting to think he’s going to have to say something soon, or there’s a chance the boxes will become part of the décor.

“Guerin!” Jenna greets from the kitchen as he makes it into the living room. “Thai or Chinese for dinner?”

“Whatever Valenti doesn’t want,” he calls back out to her, smirking when he hears the man in question curse at him from the kitchen. He hears a chuckle and turns to find Rosa in her favorite spot of the house, the big bay windows. It was the selling point for Rosa when they decided to rent the place together.

“You have to start getting along with him eventually, Michael,” she says, not looking up from her sketching pad.

“Do I have to?” Michael questions as he drops his bag on the couch and walks over to her, lifting her legs to sit down. He leans over to sneak a peek at what she’s working on to find the drawing of a beagle.

“It would help,” Rosa says, a smirk on her face. “We did sign a one-year lease, you’re stuck until then.”

“Cute dog,” he points at her work, instead of acknowledging her comment.

“It belongs to the neighbor across the street, I saw them this morning,” she explains with a smile that turns into a frown moments later. “It sucks that we can’t have a pet here.”

Michael nods; he’s heard all three of his roommates complain about it. Their landlord had killed their hopes for a pet before they signed on the dotted line of their lease.

“I love that expression,” Michael points at the drawing, the beagle has an impressive resting bitch face.

Rosa laughs, nodding in agreement. “I only saw them for a second, but that face is memorable. I had to stop myself from running across the street to beg the owner to let me play with his dog, probably would have freaked the guy out.”

Michael chuckles at the comment, Rosa is the more impulsive one of them all, he could totally picture her on a puppy-high scaring some poor guy into thinking that he was going to get robbed for his dog.

“We just moved in, Rosa, can we maybe wait a few weeks before scaring off the neighbors?” he teases, laughing when she gives him an unimpressed look.

“You’re supposed to be the fun one, Michael,” Rosa pouts. “Kyle and Jenna are the strict, boring ones. You should be helping me plan a dog-nap.”

Michael opens his mouth, only to be interrupted by Kyle and Jenna walking into the living room.

“What’s this about a dog-napping?” Kyle questions, coming to sit down on the couch. Jenna sits next to him, leaning into his space. Her hair is messed up, and her lipstick smudged off, some of it transferred to Kyle’s white polo.

Michael and Rosa look at them, and then at each other, wrinkling their noses in distaste. This is what they get for moving in with a couple who can’t keep their hands off each other.

“Whatever you did in our kitchen, I hope you disinfected it,” Rosa comments still making a face. Michael nods in agreement, a part of him a little jealous of what Kyle and Jenna have. He wants someone to make out with in the kitchen, someone to smile at him the way Jenna and Kyle smile at each other. Something real, like what they have.

Kyle blushes under Rosa’s judging look, but Jenna just rolls her eyes, running her hand through Kyle's hair to settle him.

“Dog-napping, Rosa?” she questions, getting back on track.

“Oh!” Rosa lightens up at the mention, and Michael is starting to worry about just how serious she is. “The beagle across the street, it’s precious.”

“I saw it the other day,” Kyle says with a smile of his own. “Very cute dog.”

“Very cute owner, too,” Jenna comments, tugging on Kyle’s hair when he pouts, it says more than Michael needs to know about their relationship.

“True,” Rosa agrees after a moment, thinking about it. “But not so cute that I’m not totally willing to steal his dog.”

“We haven’t even been here a month,” Michael speaks before Rosa can really get going. “Let’s not commit a crime just yet.”

Rosa exhales loudly like she thinks he’s the biggest party-pooper ever, for not encouraging the stealing of an animal. “What do you suggest then? Because I need to cuddle that dog, bad.”

Michael thinks for a moment before his eyes light up with an idea. He pulls Rosa’s sketch pad and pencil out of her lap. “We can write the owner a note asking if we can meet his dog,” Michael suggests, quickly composing the letter when no one says no. “Dog people understand crazy dog love.”

“Tell them they have the best dog,” Rosa instructs him.

“Ask what treats it likes,” Kyle chips in, getting into it.

“We can take it for a walk if they’re too busy,” Jenna adds, just as excited.

He finishes the note, signing it with all their names and adding Rosa’s drawing. “There. I’ll drop it off in the morning,” he says satisfied, the others nod seemingly pleased themselves. “Now, about dinner…”

Michael doesn’t think about it the next day, he tapes the note to their neighbor’s front door and goes to the university where he spends the day teaching freshmen in his Engineering Physics class. It’s only when he gets back home and finds Rosa practically vibrating with excitement that he even remembers about their neighbor and their dog.

“They wrote back, Michael!” she shouts as soon as he walks through the door, waving a piece of paper in the air.

“Who?”

“Buffy Manes!” Rosa exclaims, rolling her eyes at him when he doesn’t answer. “That’s the beagle’s name, look they left a note.”

Michael takes the piece of paper, instantly charmed by the paw print on the back.

It starts:

‘To my new friends, Michael, Rosa, Kyle and Jenna’

Thank you for your nice letter! It made my tail wag all night. The drawing was so good, whoever drew it is very talented, a perfect likeness.

My name is Buffy Manes, and I’m 4-years-old. I love treats of any kind. I love playing catch, -tennis balls are my favorite- and digging holes.

I am the bestest girl! Thank you for noticing, my dad tells me that every day.

I would very much like to meet my new friends, so I’m giving you my dad’s number, call any time.

Sincerely,

Buffy and Alex Manes

505-718-2035

“Okay,” Michael starts, a smile tugging at his face. “This is seriously fucking cute.”

“She liked my drawing,” Rosa says happily, which Michael finds hilarious. “And her name is Buffy, how adorable is that? If it’s for Buffy, the vampire slayer, this Alex guy is my new best friend. He has the cutest dog and good taste in 90’s tv shows, we need to call them, now.”

“What about Kyle and Jenna?”

Rosa waves his question away. “They went on a date,” she says, tugging at his shirt impatiently. “Let’s call.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughs as he pulls out his phone and dials the number, ringing a few times before someone picks up.

“Manes,” greets a deep voice that makes Michael stand up straighter as it sends a shiver up his spine. That is a very nice voice.

“Um, hi, Alex?” he starts, suddenly nervous. “This is Michael, your neighbor from across the street, my roommates and I left you a note about your dog, Buffy?”

“Right,” Alex says, letting out a soft chuckle. “With the drawing, it was really good.”

“Thanks,” Michael says, grunting when Rosa pokes him. “That was Rosa, she’s the artist, and she’s in love with your dog.”

“You’re not?” Alex questions, sounding a little offended.

“I’m actually the only one of my roommates that hasn’t seen Buffy,” he admits, as Alex makes an amused noise. “But I’m sure she’s great, her letter was perfect. Did it take long to teach her how to write?”

Alex laughs, making Michael feel pleased and oddly proud. “No, she’s a genius, it took no time at all.”

“Well you should be very proud,” he jokes getting another laugh out of Alex. “So anyway, we were hoping that we could arrange that meet-up with Buffy, and you, of course, any time you want,” he rushes to say, ignoring the way Rosa is looking at him.

“We’re home now,” Alex starts, a little hesitant. “If you want to come over.”

“Now?” Michael questions to which Rosa starts nodding vigorously. “It would just be Rosa and me, Kyle and Jenna are out, is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Alex breathes, sounding more at ease. “That’s probably better actually, I don’t do great with a lot of people. We’ll meet you two outside in 10?”

“Okay,” Michael says quickly. “See you guys in a few, thanks.”

“Not a problem, Michael,” Alex says before hanging up. He decides then and there that he likes the way Alex says his name.

“Were you really flirting with a stranger over the phone?” Rosa questions incredulously.

“No!” Michael denies, blushing when Rosa raises an eyebrow at him. “Maybe?”

Rosa shakes her head at him, amused more than anything else. “Keep your head in the game Guerin, we are in it for the dog. Let’s go.”

Michael follows Rosa out of their home, she’s practically shaking by the time they cross the street and open Alex’s gate.

“Don’t freak them out,” he warns. “Alex said he’s not the best with people.”

“I’ll behave,” she promises just as their neighbor’s door opens.

A robust beagle comes out first, followed by what has to be the most beautiful man Michael has ever seen. He has tousled dark hair, big deep brown eyes, cheekbones that could cut glass, and full pink lips quirked up into a hesitant smile. The rest of him is perfect too, strong shoulders and arms, wrapped in a soft-looking grey Henley, and he’s in a pair of black jeans that hug his legs nicely. As he takes a step forward, Michael notices the crutch in his left hand.

“Michael, Rosa?” he questions as he comes down two short steps, standing before them.

“Hi,” Michael breathes, if possible, Alex is even more gorgeous up close, especially when he smiles at Michael.

“Hi,” he greets back at him, before looking at Rosa to give her a smile of her own. “Well, you didn’t come to see me,” he says, looking down at his dog, who is standing faithfully at his side, waiting. “This is Buffy.”

Buffy looks up at him at her name.

“They’re here for you, baby girl,” he speaks to her. “Greet.”

The moment Alex says the command, Buffy leaves his side, making her way toward Rosa as she gets down to her knees to pet her. Buffy’s tail starts wagging excitedly the second Rosa starts to pet her.

“Who’s a good girl,” Rosa coos at Buffy. “You are, you’re such a good girl, so sweet.”

“She’s a therapy dog,” Alex tells them with a proud look on his face as he watches his dog. Michael bends down too, letting Buffy sniff his hand first, chuckling when she starts to lick it.

“She’s very friendly,” Michael comments, looking up at Alex, his breath catching when he finds Alex’s eyes on him.

Alex nods, his expression soft. “She likes to make friends.”

“We can be her friends,” Rosa says quickly, as she rubs the top of Buffy’s head, looking back at Alex. “Her name? Is it because of the show?”

“Yeah, when my friend Maria and I picked her at the shelter, she said that Buffy would slay my demons,” Alex says with a slight laugh. “It stuck, so I named her Buffy.”

Michael bites down on his lip as he stands up, he does it to keep from asking what Alex’s demons are, wanting to know everything about him.

The rest of the visit, they’re on Alex’s porch. Rosa plays with Buffy, while Michael stares at Alex like an idiot as he tells them cute anecdotes about his dog. He shares a little bit about himself with them, each tidbit Michael stores away for later. He learns that Alex was in the Air Force until he got hurt. Alex knocks on his leg, which Buffy responds by leaving the belly rubs Rosa is giving her to press her small head against her owner’s leg. The gesture obviously meant to comfort him, which going by the smile on Alex’s face it does. He still does military work but as a private contractor and mostly from home and has had Buffy since his enlistment ended, and he hasn’t been in town too long, only a few months.

“I don’t really know much around here,” he comments with a shrug. “The base, the market, and the dog park, but that’s pretty much it.”

“I can show you around,” Michael blurts out before he can stop himself, he feels himself go hot as he feels Rosa’s eyes burn into the side of his face. He knows the second they’re alone; she’s going to mock the hell out of him.

Alex starts to smile only to look over at Rosa. “Umm,” Alex begins nervously, and Michael realizes with surprising clarity that Alex thinks they’re together.

Luckily Rosa seems to notice too, jumping in before he can make a fool of himself. “You guys should go,” she says with a grin. “This loser barely goes out himself, it’s just home and the university for him. Sad, really.”

“You’re just as bad as me,” he argues, trying to defend himself. “When’s the last time you went out?”

“Last week,” Rosa says smugly. “I met up with that hot blonde who modeled for me a few weeks ago, she showed me her portfolio,” she continues, waggling her eyebrows which makes Alex laugh. “You guys could go get a bite, and I can stay and hang with Buffy.”

Alex smirks at her, his eyes dancing with amusement. “That’s really what you’re after, isn’t it?”

“I’ll be honest, you can turn out to be Dahmer and eat Guerin,” Rosa says bluntly, ignoring him when he makes a noise of protest. “I’m cool as long as I get to keep playing with your dog.”

Alex looks at her, letting out a low whistle.

“As you can see, I need better friends,” Michael says, shooting Rosa a glare. “Do you want to go get something to eat?”

Alex bites down on his bottom lip, and it takes everything in Michael not to lean in and do it for him. “Now?”

Michael nods. “No time like the present.”

Alex smiles softly at him, there is a slight rosy color on his cheeks that makes Michael’s heart skip a beat. “Okay, let me get my wallet.”

“And I get to watch Buffy?” Rosa asks hopefully, as he stands. “I’ll take real good care of her, give you picture updates and everything.”

Alex looks at Rosa for a moment before nodding, his amusement obvious. “Sure, she’s really mellow, so I don’t see it being a problem if you really want to watch her.”

“Alex, you’re my new best friend,” Rosa says with a serious expression on her face.

“I’m sure that would mean more to him if you hadn’t just offered your current best friend up to be eaten,” Michael grumbles at her.

Alex laughs as he heads inside.

“This is where you say thank you,” Rosa whispers at him.

Michael frowns at her.”You did nothing,” he answers, getting a snort back.

“I just wing-womaned the shit out of this,” Rosa gripes. “You were just staring at him like a smitten idiot.”

Michael hates that he can’t argue with the truth, and in a fit of childishness, sticks his tongue out at her.

“Mature,” Rosa laughs as Alex comes back.

He gives them a curious look as he closes his door, leash in hand. “We usually go for a walk at seven,” he says, handing Rosa the leash after attaching it to Buffy. “She likes the park two blocks away.”

Rosa nods as she starts walking towards the gate with Buffy. He and Alex follow behind them, crossing the street back to their place where his truck is parked.

“We’ll go for a lovely walk, don’t worry,” Rosa promises.

Alex kneels down to rub Buffy under her chin, getting a lick for his troubles.

“Be good Buffy, I’ll be back soon,” he says tenderly before pressing a kiss on the top of her head, it makes something inside Michael flutter behind his ribcage.

Standing back to his feet, he walks over to Michael, giving him a charmed look when Michael opens the door of his truck for him.

“Have fun you two,” Rosa tells them as Michael puts the car in drive. She picks up Buffy and heads inside.

“You just made her night,” he tells Alex as he starts to drive downtown.

“I’m glad,” Alex answers, flashing him a smile. “You said in your note that you guys can’t have pets?”

“Grumpy landlord,” Michael explains.

Alex makes a face. “That really sucks. I got lucky, my landlady didn’t seem big on pets either, I wasn’t even going to interview for the place, but I brought Buffy with me and explained that she’s my therapy dog and I guess Buffy won her over. It’s hard resisting her face.”

“Probably hard resisting yours too,” Michael blurts out, already cringing before the words are completely out of his mouth. He keeps his eyes on the road to avoid looking at Alex, but after a moment of silence, he can’t help but sneak a peek at him. There’s a shy smile on Alex’s face, and his eyes are welcoming as he looks back at Michael, making him feel more confident to continue. “It’s a very nice face.”

Alex’s smile grows until he’s laughing softly, shaking his head at Michael's boldness. “You have a very nice face too, Michael.”

Michael grins to himself, his heart beating faster with excitement. He parks the car outside his favorite Mexican restaurant. “Hope you like tacos,” he says as he gets out, going around the car to Alex’s door.

“Are you even allowed to live in New Mexico if you don’t like tacos?” he questions, passing Michael his crutch. He gets out, and Michael reaches out his hand at his waist to steady him, his body responding instantly when Alex lets out a small gasp at his touch.

Michael lifts his eyes to Alex’s face, finding his gaze already on him, eyes wide, lips slightly parted, and Mickael knows Alex just felt the same spark he did at their touch. He steps in closer, crowding Alex in the door, his pulse spiking when Alex’s eyes drift down to his mouth.

“Proposal,” he starts, his voice low.

Alex hums softly, his body seemed to sway, brushing against his, his eyes half-closed.

“We turn this into a date,” Michael suggests, smiling at the surprised but happy look Alex gives him.

“How does it differ?” Alex questions with a teasing glint in his eyes.

Michael squeezes the side of Alex, where his hand still rests. “I get to kiss you at the end of the night,” he answers, inhaling sharply when Alex closes the small space between them, brushing his lips against Michael’s.

Alex takes his crutch and Michael’s hand leading him into the restaurant.

“You should text Rosa,” he throws over his shoulder, giving Michael’s hand a squeeze.

“Why?” Michael asks, still a little dazed from the touch of Alex’s lips.

A couple of hours is too fast to fall in love, right?

Alex turns back to him, a beautiful smile on his even more beautiful face, and Michael decides that, no, a couple of hours is more than enough time to fall in love with Alex Manes.

“To tell her that starting tonight, she’s going to have plenty of opportunities to borrow Buffy if I get to borrow her roommate.”

Michael grins, pulling out his phone even as he pulls Alex back into another kiss, this one deeper and longer as he takes his time, enjoying the taste and the sounds Alex makes. Rosa will be pleased with the arrangement, and he’s good with it too.

#roswell nm #malex fic #malex #michael x alex #my writing #buffy manes

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lisinfleur · 5 years ago

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T&T - Chapter 2: A Crown of Thorns

Author’s Notes | Let’s say I’m inspired! Words | 2464 ⁑ Warnings: Mentions of violence, torture, blood, and death. Female abuse and torture. Caution is recommended: the following content may be triggering.

Silence became almost a third person into that chariot. They rode for a while after getting rid of the coachman's body, but since then, not a word was said between them both. Now, the chariot was stopped by the trees, serving as a shelter for the two of them since the night has fallen upon Midgard.

Ivar was carelessly messing with the compartments under the seats and around the chariot, trying to find anything useful. Iliana, on the other hand, was sitting at the stairs outside, looking at her fingers while the fire Ivar had lit was crepitating near her, providing heat and light enough for her to see the earth under her nails.

At least, they buried him – she was trying to convince herself. At least, the poor man wouldn't reach the afterlife without any warning or support. There would be some offer for the gods to keep his soul. Anything for him to carry on.

"You should stop thinking about this," Ivar said, sitting beside her, offering a slice of dry meat he found inside the chariot.

Iliana took it in her hands, not taking it to her mouth.

"We did what we had to do.” He insisted. “We’ll survive. And we gave him a chance he would never have... What chances have a coachman to reach Valhalla, uh? We gave this to him. He'll feast with the gods and we'll live one more night."

Iliana sighed, biting the meat. She was hungry indeed and that would serve to fill her belly for a long while.

"There is more inside. We can travel longer than the next town if you want. I also found some blankets we can use to sleep tonight. But he hasn't gold. Little silver. We'll need more," Ivar stated, biting his part of the meat and causing shivers to run down Iliana's skin.

She didn't want to do it. She didn't want to leave a trail of dead bodies behind so she could move forward. But Ivar was right: what other choice did they have? A slave woman, a cripple warrior. They wouldn't last long if they weren't able to make some sacrifices.

"You have strong arms. And with this silver, we can arm you with a dagger maybe," Iliana said, to what Ivar sighed.

"I could kill a man with one of your hairclips if we need, Iliana," he boasted, but she looked at him, seriously.

"A dagger. Clean and quick deaths from now on. And we'll go to the lower parts of the town. I can lure some bandits into our tent," she said, causing Ivar to sigh again.

"It is not the time for regret, but I get you. Anyway, bandits use to carry more gold. We'll need a lesser number of deaths to get what we need. I agree. The lower parts of the town are better," Ivar agreed and Iliana looked down to her piece of meat.

"I just wanna lay my head and be able to sleep at night," she mumbled.

And Ivar could see when the first tears threatening to drop from her eyes. The poor woman... She wasn't like him. He could bet that coachman was the first death she had to watch happening in front of her.

Gods, how he was wrong...

If only he could look into Iliana's thoughts and see how much blood did she had to spill for her own life...

But she wasn't corrupted by her actions. Inside, Iliana wish her life wasn't stained in blood like that. She just wanted to live a normal life, even as a slave, she wouldn't mind, but all she wanted was to live a calm and tranquil life.

Her thoughts got lost when she felt a warm blanket around her shoulders: Ivar brought it from the chariot and covered her softly. And she could see his glare was tender, fully different from the fierce blues she saw before.

"Don't dwell on it. We did what we had to do to survive. And that's it, Iliana. Come inside. We should sleep a little," he said, trying to conduct her inside.

There wasn't too much space, but they divided themselves at the benches, trying to shrink in a way to lay down and sleep. However, none of them really closed their eyes. Iliana was still crying. And for some unknown reason, her teary and lost eyes were messing with Ivar's heart as if he was some kind of lost child he wanted to embrace.

"You're doing quite the opposite of what I said," he muttered, catching her eyes on him.

"Haven't you ever felt your hands too heavy with other's blood?" she asked, causing Ivar to think for a moment.

His heart sinking in his chest with the blood of his brothers in his hands... Sigurd... Björn... He went too far, and he knew that.

"Yes," he mumbled.

More thoughts invading his mind. Memories... Margrethe... Poor Thora. How many?

"Then you know how I feel," Iliana sighed and Ivar looked at her, curious.

"You don't look like someone who killed too many people in your life," he stated.

"I didn't," she answered. "But the ones I did were enough."

"Tell me," Ivar asked, curious about her story.

Iliana raised her eyes, looking at him, the way he wasn't comfortable over that bench just to give her some space. She then threw her blanket down, pulling his to make the floor of the chariot more comfortable, and laid down in the middle of the benches, with more space for their legs, pulling Ivar to come down and lay beside her, which he did without a problem. If she didn't mind to be closer, then they would be warmer this night.

"I was born in slavery," she started and Ivar's eyes landed on her, paying full attention to what she was saying. "Iliana is not my real name, but it's the one I liked the most among the many names the masters I had called me over the years. I never really had a name for myself. And I passed through many hands, many different ways to live. I was the child of a queen, a princess' maid, a healer's second pair of hands... I was sold and bought many times until I ended up as those brothers' bed slave."

For a moment, Ivar remembered Margrethe and how she used to go into all his brothers' beds. It wasn't an easy task to keep all of them satisfied, after all.

"They were three. Algor, Asir, and Askord, I never forgot their names. Askord was the elder one, Algor and Asir were the youngest respectively. And I was given equally to the three of them by their father, a landlord of many lands South from here if I'm not wrong. I served the three of them longer than any other master and I never rebelled against my fate. Despite being arrogant and name themselves princes, they weren't bad masters at all... Until master Askord got married..."

Ivar supported his face over his hand. The elbow on the ground making his head higher than Iliana's face, so he could look at her. The sleepiness away from him since the interest got him caught by her story.

Iliana, however, wasn't looking at him. Her eyes were lost in the roof of the chariot, lost in her memories.

"First, I thought I would be left behind with the two younger masters since master Askord wouldn't need a mistress anymore. But unlike what I thought, the two younger masters gave up on me as a marriage gift for master Askord who took me into his marital bed with his wife, saying she had fallen in desire for me... I was a slave. I had no say in this, yet, I would have served them gladly. However, she wasn't a woman with common desires... She didn't want me to serve them the way I was used to doing, nor want me to teach her what master Askord liked in bed. She wanted..."

Iliana swallowed dry and her eyes went low as if she could look at her own body. Ivar's curiosity intensified and he licked his lips, moving unsettled. Whatever that woman wanted, seemed to be the reason why Iliana wasn't with her masters anymore and he wanted to know.

"First... She wanted master Askord to prove her I hadn't any kind of love in his heart. For this, she asked him to tie me and make love to her in front of me, so I would watch as he was giving her everything I would never have. It wasn't something that really affected me. I never loved any of my masters. They were my masters, nothing else. But my apathy infuriated her... She wanted me to suffer somehow and so... The punishments started. It would depend on her mood of the day... If she thought my breasts were beautiful, she would order him to whip them. To cut my waist to see if my blood was red as theirs. She would beat me whenever I cried too loud and ask master Askord to hurt me whenever he would take me, even putting thorns and seeds into me so he would push them inside and hurt me while we had sex. With time, she started keeping me tied to their bed releasing me only when the other masters were around, never marking my body where they could see, forcing me to smile at them and treat them as nothing was happening, but to refuse whenever they wanted to take me to their beds repeating I was a gift given to their brother."

Ivar's curiosity wanted to know more, but it was the truth that his heart was already desiring for that story to end up in blood. Whoever her former master's wife was, he didn't like her at all!

"I tried to disobey her, begging master Algor to save me from her. I told him she didn't like me, that she was making up master Askord's mind to torture me. I even showed him my body with all the marks she had done. But when I opened my dress and showed him the truth, he kissed my shoulders and my neck and told me he would save me, but asked me to sleep with him one more time since he was missing my tender flesh..." Iliana closed her eyes, feeling so dirty.

And Ivar grunted, annoyed.

That man was nothing but a bastard, he could feel it.

"I did it... I slept with him. An in the next morning he delated me to Askord, telling him I had gone to his room by myself to offer me to please him. He said he had seen the marks in my body and asked if Askord and his wife wanted a new... Toy... To play... Because I was... I was broken already..."

Ivar's fist clenched as he listened to her, observing as her eyes filled with a thicker line of tears.

"After that night, the punishment became worst. And one day... she brought me a crown of thorns. She said she heard the Christian god has used one and since I was the princes' whore, she wanted to crown me properly... That thing would permanently mark my face... She wasn't trying to hide my marks anymore and I knew what would be the end of that night. I could see death in her eyes, Ivar. She would ask master Askord to kill me and I couldn't handle... So, when they started kissing each other, I stole the fruit knife he had in his tray and... And..."

Ivar's eyes became wide in anxiety. In the end, it wasn't like he didn't want to hear the details. But Iliana's eyes poured in tears once again and she sobbed, waking him from his own delirium to realize how deeply it was disturbing her to have those memories in her mind.

"I didn't want to kill them... I never wanted to kill anyone. But they would kill me! I've heard her telling him how horny she was thinking about bathing in my blood! I've heard him saying how pretty she would be covered in me... I sunk that knife in one side of her neck and pulled it, covering her and Askord in blood as she wanted to be. And when he came to me, holding me and falling over me on the ground trying to choke me, I sunk the knife as many times as I could in his eye, crying when his body fell lifeless over mine. She was still struggling when I managed to get up. I washed in their basin and stole one of her dresses and all her jewelry I could carry, fleeing in the middle of the night, knowing they would be after me as soon as one of his brothers arrived in his home."

The tears poured freely down her face, the sobs cutting her between the words. Ivar slowly came closer, feeling compelled to give her some kind of comfort.

"I thought I would be able to be far away from here, maybe in that settlement I've heard a son of Ragnar was ruling in those Christian lands... We... Wex... Wenex..."

"Wessex," Ivar said, thinking their fate was anyway bond, "My brother Ubbe established a settlement in Wessex."

"I thought I would be there before they could find me but... But I discovered master Askord was even more of a bastard than I thought: her jewelry was false... Stones without value, metal imitating the silver and gold she was so proud to walk around covered with. Only one necklace was valuable and it paid for supplies and a ride out of the main town. Then, I have been fleeing from certain death since then... But... I know they'll end up catching me. I know I'll end up with that horrible thing crowning my head..." she cried.

And Ivar's heart saw itself broken by her helpless sobs.

He leaned forward, offering her his shoulder and a small embrace, but Iliana broke into his arms, embracing him tightly, crying against his chest like a child who lost everything.

He didn't know why, but something in his guts was pushing him towards her. Something that probably had crossed their ways like that. The idea of selling her in the next town or delivering her for the reward was completely gone off his mind.

Instead, Ivar embraced her back, muttering sounds for her to get calm.

"Shh... shh, sweet child... Don't cry. I'm here now. I'm here now..."

Iliana couldn't explain why, but that knowledge, the sensation of his presence, made her heart slowly feel safer.

And into his arms, she slept the first night without a terrible bad dream...

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#history vikings #imagine vikings #ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar imagine #ivar x OC #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #ivar's heathen army #sister wives #T&T

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doof-doofblog · 4 years ago

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"You Might Aswell Just Come Out!"

Thursday 10th September

Good evening again everyone! Hope your day has been a good one - whether you've been relaxing at home or whether you've been out and working, hope it's been a good day for you all! We are back again with another episode tonight, we know Tuesday's episode ended with Chantelle dropping the bombshell on Kheerat that she is planning on leaving Gray the very next day!! Clearly something is going to stop Chantelle in her tracks, but what?!

Let's delve right into it! The episode starts with Ian waking up in the Vic, Sharon has only gone and made him a full English Breakfast!! The absolute works! I can still sense the flicker of guilt from him - he doesn't really deserve the Vic or the appreciation that Sharon is giving him. She thanks him for looking after both her and her baby boy, saying how she feels like a princess each time he's ran out to get groceries for her! He's there giving her a smile, even though it looks a bit forced! It's as if everything with Dotty has been forgotten about, Sharon hasn't even begun to even suspect for once that Dotty could be telling the truth. It's only going to hit her harder when she realises.

Across the Square, it looks as if Gray is finally heading back to work. Chantelle is stood behind the counter looking nervous and scared to even talk or move. It's the day she's planning on leaving her husband for good! Before he leaves he asks her whether she has her phone, he demands her to keep it with her, oh you know, just in case! She asks him softly on what time he'll return, she tells him she'll have dinner ready. Is this so she can time it right for her to get away before he gets back? So if what I'm thinking is right - she has until 1 o'clock to get away! As he leaves the house she grabs her phone and makes a call, it sounds as if she's making an enquiry about an apartment or house of some kind that she can stay in? During the phone conversation she looks down at her ring, is she going to pawn her jewellery just so she'll be able to afford it?!

In the Market, Mick bumps into Tina - I'm sure they probably haven't seen each other since lock-down. I'm unsure where Mick and Linda are staying right now but it sounds as if they're all settled in their new home. Linda is doing well to stay sober also, the only downside is that Mick is struggling to find a job, with him being Landlord of the Queen Vic for a good few years, it's probably been hard for him to find something he's qualified for - as he explains to Tina, he's had 4 interviews but not got the job in any of them because he's overqualified! Luckily, Tina decides to give him a permanent position at The Albert. I don't know about you guys but it feels so weird seeing both Mick and Linda looking for jobs in the Square now, they've been a part of the Queen Vic for so long, it's weird not seeing them behind that bar! It's true they're already popular within their neighbourhood and community, I'm sure they'll have plenty of people rallying round them if they needed any help.

In the Mitchell household, Ben still has his little package in his pocket ready to give to Callum. Oh bless! He's all excited and ready to go the seaside to listen to the seagulls with his partner, only Callum refuses to go. I feel sorry for Ben at this moment in time, as he has no idea what Callum has found. He's been struggling to come to terms with the fact that he could potentially lose all his hearing, until yesterday when he had the implant and it was the first time in weeks that he heard Callum's voice! He explains to his boyfriend that that was one of the biggest days of his life and he's disappointed that Callum doesn't seem to care. Only we know, that Callum knows that Ben has been lying to him. It's kinda sad to watch because all Ben is wanting to hear, is Callum tell him that he loves him. Of course Callum wouldn't deny that he doesn't love Ben, but knowing that he's plainly lying to his face is just getting him more and more angry. Why won't Ben tell him the truth? To save him the upset possibly? To not come between him and his job? Who knows? But when Callum decides to bring Danny Hardcastle up, once again Ben lies to his boyfriend and says he's not seen him since that incident at Ruby's. Callum scoffs in disbelief that once again his boyfriend has lied to him, he leaves the conversation before anything else can be said.

The next time we see Chantelle it looks as if she's leaving the pawn shop, Karen approaches her excitedly saying how much she has missed her and the kids. Did any one else notice that Chantelle was fidgeting with her sleeves? Like she was trying to cover up her hands so her Mum wouldn't see that she's not wearing her ring?! Chantelle tries to dash as she uses the excuse she needs to take the children to the dentist. As Karen begins to leave, Chantelle then calls to her Mum that she'll bring the kids round to see her, as she's missed them so much. Plus with Chantelle's plan on leaving, she'll know she'll never forgive herself if her Mum and Dad didn't get the chance to say goodbye to their grandchildren. Only will this cause her to run late and corrupt her plan to get away?!

Ha! Sorry I just need to applaud Dotty for messing with Ian's head! She is brilliant! She actually made him believe that Sharon loves him! Did you see that little smile appear on his face after she walked away?! He actually believed her! Sharon has always said from the beginning that she and Ian are just close friends. Ian has only been "her rock" the past few months out of guilt. She fell apart after Dennis died, he took her in and looked after her and her baby son, and also as a massive gesture - bought her the Queen Vic! And since lock-down he has been living with her and Albie, as Dotty says - in the hopes of things actually getting more romantic and intimate between them. I think it's no secret that Ian has always held a bit of torch for Sharon, they've been close friends for years but I think deep down he has always truly loved her. As for Sharon, she's never seen Ian as anything else other than a close friend, she's never had any romantic feeling towards him - ever! So why the hell should she start now?! I love that Dotty has used this information to her advantage, Ian is only going to make another fool of himself!

Meanwhile, at the Taylor's, Chantelle is visiting her parents. As she sits down and listens to Karen talking about much she is missing Chatham and Riley, also Keegan and Tiffany now they've moved out, Chantelle is looking round and looking at all the family photos. I think she feels this will be the last time in a while that she'll get to see her Mum and Dad, so she's taking everything in. She turns to her Mum and tells her how much she loves her, and how much she loves her family and her parents. I'm sure deep down inside it is killing her knowing she'll be fleeing in a few hours. I just hope she would tell her parents exactly what was happening and why she has to leave. Just for a split moment when Mitch was going to hand her some money, I thought she might've said something then ... she slightly hesitated, did anyone else notice? She decides to decline her Dad's offer of the money and says to him that Keegan would need it more, she takes one last look at her parents and softly says goodbye to them, not a thought in their mind aware of what she's about to do!

Ooooh look! Frankie's back! It's nice to see her making more of an appearance on the Square! It looks as if Kathy has given her a job at The Albert! Ooops - only to find that Tina has also hired Mick! #Awkward! ... In the recent new trailer that was released, it showed Frankie taking pictures of little Ollie. Does she have some kind of connection to the Carter's? Why would she be taking pictures of Ollie?! I'm looking forward to seeing more of Frankie and what could be her story-line involving the Carter's. I know Frankie was meant to have a story-line with Ben, I kinda have a feeling we haven't seen that yet? Only she was introduced to him by Callum, are we going to see something more from that side of things? Is Frankie going to show Ben the deaf community and how it all works, even though he's slowly getting his hearing back, it would enlighten Ben I think. Poor Mick, he decides to let Frankie have the job at The Albert, but as he leaves you can see the look of disappointment on his face, another job he's potentially lost? Will he be able to find something?

Back at Vic, Linda is having a lovely catch up with her best friend, Sharon. To be honest, it's lovely to see these two having a nice catch up and a chat the way they are. Obviously the roles have reversed with now Sharon behind the bar and Linda sat as a punter - but I watch them and I can't help but think it's so real how they've done it. With the whole social-distancing aspect in place, Sharon is behind the bar and Linda is sat at her table ... I think that whole scene was brilliant and it just felt very realistic. I loved how Ian was eavesdropping on their conversation, Sharon complimenting him on how amazing he's been to her though-out lock-down. He is going to high jump to conclusions! I love how they both laugh at the thought of both herself and Ian being an item, little does the poor man know how humiliated he's going to be!

Does anyone else seem to understand what Vinny and Ruby are up to? I kinda didn't understand that moment, to my understanding Ruby doesn't have insurance for the club? Am I right in thinking that? So Vinny is going to help her in some way - saying she's needs cash or something? I am so confused with this one! Vinny is seen loitering, waiting - for what looks like - Ruby to come out the club, she previously told him the club would be empty with cash in the safe! Is going to try and get that money for something or someone?

Awww and Chantelle looks as if she's ready to flee, she waiting for children, calling for them to hurry. Kheerat approaches her and pleads for her to tell him where she's going. Little does Chantelle that from across the road, Gray is watching her from his car. Watching as Kheerat and Chantelle have their little quick discussion, the look on Chantelle's face is utter fear as Gray makes himself known, Kheerat backs away and Gray reminds her that he didn't want Kheerat talking to her. I really feel for Chantelle right now, she almost got away. She was almost out of his grasp, as they walk into the house - Kheerat watches from a distance, catching Chantelle's eyes and Gray's. I am so sure that Kheerat's going to suss Gray out, he's going to find out exactly what's been happening! The BIG question is - will it be too late before he does?!

Back at The Albert, Ben finally catches up with Callum. He joins him at the table and apologises. He seems to think that Callum is upset because of Danny, but to what extent and why. It's only when Callum reveals that he'd figured out that he'd been lied to for months! He questions him why and what it means for their relationship. Ben claims it's literally because he's joined the police force and nothing else, but then again - it shouldn't matter what Callum's job was, he still should've told him the truth. He claims he was trying to protect him, protect him from what though? Protect his job? Protect his safety? The seriousness of the situation really hits home for Ben when he realises that he's been seen on CCTV! What does this mean for Ben and the Mitchell's? How is Callum going to be able to ignore it?

The following scene, Chantelle is back in her bathroom trying to find a hiding place for the money. She decides to put it in a make-up bag and hide it in the toilet, Gray shouts out for her as she makes herself look busy in the bathroom. Of course the first thing Gray notices, he engagement ring is missing! Oh shit! How is she going to be able to explain that one?! Perhaps say it's gone down the drain something?

Oh gosh this is really cringe-worthy isn't it! Ian trying to find the words to say to Sharon how he feels about her. How many women has he claimed to love on this soap?! Sharon seems to think there's something wrong with Albie, but he decides to jump right in the deep end and pour his heart out to her. Oh and I can see how awkward this is making Sharon feel, an awkward smile on her face, a nervous giggle, twiddling her fingers ... he tells her he loves her and even claims to know that she feels exactly the same way about him ... only when she explains to him that she doesn't, you can see his face drop in dismay. He's clearly realised he's made a huge mistake and has made himself look a fool. What's going to happen now between them? I don't think they'd be able to live together now things have been made to feel awkward between them. Will Ian move out and back in with his Mum while Sharon stays at The Vic?! Will Ian realise that it was Dotty who was playing with his mind?

Okay, so the last scene of tonight's episode, Vinny is seen sneaking out of Ruby's club, carrying a hefty looking bag ... Martin clicks on as to where he came from and begins to give chase. Has Vinny nicked all the money that was in the club's safe?! Vinny heads to the back entrance of the Minute Mart, Martin slowly closing in ... he calls for him and slowly enters the shop, looking in all the nooks and cranny's. Only Vinny appears from behind and bashes him over the head with a fire extinguisher. Martin is left lying unconscious! What the hell has he done?! and why did he attack Martin in such a way?! Why does Vinny need the money? Was he getting the money for Kheerat as a favour?! Will Martin be okay?!

Once again folks, i'm deeply sorry for this post being posted late! Unfortunately it may take me a few days to write up about tomorrow's episode as i'm going to be away from my laptop/computer for about 3/4 days. But I promise I will be up to date as soon as I can. I hope you all have a fantastic weekend! Thank you all so much for taking your time to read my blog, I know the posts can be long but I just want you to know I appreciate it immensely! Thanks again folks! xXx

#eastenders #ianbeale #sharonwatts #mickcarter #lindacarter #tinacarter #chantelleatkins #grayatkins #kheerat panesar #vinny panesar #dottycotton #martinfowler #rubyallen #karentaylor #mitchbaker #callumhighway #benmitchell #ballum #frankielewis

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forasecondtherewedwon · 5 years ago

Text

Slow Mover

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: E/NSFW Word count: 12k

Summary:

When Ned backed out on rooming with Peter during their first year of college, MJ felt like it was no big deal to take his place. Now that she's about to lose it, she's confronting the fact that she may have grown attached... and not to the apartment.

Monday, February 1st

I’m gonna pack my things and leave you behind/This feeing’s old and I know/That I’ve made up my mind ― “I Love You So” (The Walters)

MJ’s been thinking about moving out for awhile. As far as roommates go, Peter’s a slob, not that she has a frame of reference since they’re only in their first year of college and she declined student residence in favour of splitting a lease with her Academic Decathlon underling.

If the term ‘underling’ seems harsh, it’s not. Peter’s earned her disdain in more ways than there are Disney Dalmatians. He mashes down the nibs of her Faber-Castell markers making hasty grocery lists on the post-its that inevitably breeze off their fridge door. He falls through the window almost every time he gets in late from Spidey-patrol and the thud wakes her up. He has socks everywhere. She has never seen so many. Fucking. Socks.

This was supposed to be him and Ned, she knows―his actual best friend, not the friend reluctantly given the designation because... why, again? How she won Peter’s friendship isn’t immediately clear. Except Ned decided to commute from home in a last-minute fit of separation anxiety. This was after Peter signed a lease but before the online application for student residence opened. MJ shrugged and said she’d help them out because the little walk-up is close to campus and about on par with what the college charges for housing. For Peter, the draw is the privacy to sneak in and out in his superhero getup. For MJ, it’s the quiet of not sleeping within the same four walls as a noisy roommate, on a floor packed with students, in a building of eighteen-year-olds who’ve just left the nest and are ready to party.

But, like she’s noted, Peter’s the worst.

It’s the first of February, with only two full months plus exams left in the term, and she’s still telling herself she might just cut and run. Very likely, she and Peter have the last good landlord in New York City (or the woman knows how fast she could rent their apartment with so many students, tourists, and other career transients coming and going) because they were told upfront that they could move out at either the end of the month or right in the middle, provided they gave two weeks of notice. When the 1st and the 15th of every month roll around, MJ re-evaluates. Obviously, she hasn’t dropped Peter on his ass yet, but she could. She has options. She’s met a handful of people in her figure drawing and art history classes who are living together on two floors of a ramshackle historic house somewhere that’s basically turned into an artist’s colony and one more person would be nothing to them. MJ could absolutely move in. The socializing demands would be an adjustment, but it’s a short sprint to exam season and she’ll be burrowing into a library study room at that point anyway.

Today’s another first of the month, another chance to announce she’s jumping ship. After considering everything during her walk back to the apartment from her afternoon class, MJ’s decided she’ll probably stay. She never records the factors that inform her decision, preferring to leave no trace. Put it down to her love of mystery and conspiracy, or her five solid months of rooming with a guy who leads a double life. Either way, her vast internal ordering system that leaves no physical sign drives Peter nuts. That’s why she continues to use it.

“Hey, loser, I’m home!” she shouts, twisting her key out of the lock and closing the door behind her.

MJ doesn’t see him right away, but she knows he’s here. His class schedule is as familiar as her own and she knows he’s just as hesitant as she is to engage with people―even people he’s friendly with in class―outside of school. He’ll be here. No need to rush the encounter.

She kicks off her slushy boots, hangs her coat, shoves her hat down the sleeve, and heads to her room. A living space and kitchen that are practically one and the same was evidently the trade-off the boys were willing to make for two bedrooms when they chose this apartment. Whatever. MJ isn’t dying for any meal that requires more than a foot and a half of counter space. And the bedroom all to herself is nice. Peter got the one with the window for his nefarious late-night purposes (saving people and shit), so her room’s away from exterior walls and beside the bathroom. She nearly always gets to the shower first and when she doesn’t... at least being a slow showerer isn’t one of Peter’s faults.

Hefting her textbooks and notebooks from her bag one by one, MJ assesses which she’ll need for homework tonight. Yikes, maybe it should be an exclusively laptop evening; she has a midterm paper coming up and the task of assembling citable articles from scholarly journals beckons in a voice that’s been shredded through a cheese grater. Mmm, cheese. She touches her stomach. Snack first?

Once she’s let her hair down to straggle around her shoulders and swapped her jeans for pj bottoms, MJ plods back into communal territory. She can hear Peter talking in his room through his door, probably on the phone. Part of her wants to knock and tell him to say hi to his aunt for her. The more persuasive part of her wants cheese. She shuffles onward.

He comes sliding into the kitchen like a young Tom Cruise, but with pants―god, the mental comparison is so embarrassingly bad that it’s making her start to blush―as MJ’s arranging a slice of cheddar on a cracker. The fact that Peter so clearly wants to tell her something encourages her to bite down and, mouth full of crunching food, cut him off with, “’Sup?”

“I just got off the phone with Ned,” he informs her. His arms are dramatically apart like this news is in any way important or unusual.

Treating him with heavily sarcastic seriousness, she plants an elbow on the counter and leans towards him like she’s fascinated.

“And Lego’s teaming up with Tesla to build a driveable, electric Millennium Falcon that roars like Chewbacca when you hit the gas,” she predicts.

Peter’s mouth hangs open for a moment and it’s adora―it’s amusing. Like, she wants to laugh at him. Because he looks like a dork. This nerd is so easy to bait.

“Oh my god, I wish. Get out of my fantasies.”

Her elbow almost slips off the counter. She finishes chewing, chastened by how she could’ve just bit her tongue in a grisly household accident.

“Spit it out then,” she suggests, because now Peter’s grinning, waiting for her to ask. “I don’t have another guess.”

Her roommate takes a deep breath to ready himself for something and she narrows her eyes.

“Well, you know how you keep talking about those people you know and their big house and how they maybe have a room or part of a room or something?”

MJ rolls her eyes.

“I mentioned it once, Parker.”

“Oh, well, I remember you saying that. I―well,” he interrupts himself, “Ned and I wondered if that was something you were still considering.”

She has no idea where he’s going with this.

“I have no idea where you’re going with this.”

Peter comes close to vibrating for a minute before he just blurts it out.

“Ned’s moving in! Or, he could be, if you were moving out. Shit,” he mutters, expression falling. “We’re not trying to force you out. It’s just that you said you might want to, and Ned’s been thinking about moving closer to campus for exams and―”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” MJ agrees, nodding quickly. “You guys are idiots for not thinking of that sooner.”

Are they? Was it them being idiots that kept Ned at home? No, that was anxiety. Was it them being idiots that made Peter wholeheartedly welcome MJ as a roommate? No, that was... Ok, she doesn’t have an answer for that one, but she’s already said her thing about idiots, so she scoops her plate of cheese and crackers off the counter and slips past the confused face of her roommate, muttering about peer-reviewed academic sources.

It’s infuriating and unfair, as MJ numbly abandons her snack on her desk and sinks to the floor of her bedroom with her head in her hands, that the instant she agreed to move out was the same instant she noticed how cute her soon-to-be ex-roommate looks in sock-feet.

Tuesday, February 2nd

Is there more to this urge that lies in me/’Cause it feels like there’s something I can’t see/But I don’t know what it means ― “Patience” (Hollow Coves)

“You have your key, right?” Peter checks. It’s twenty after seven in the morning and MJ’s hustling him out their apartment door ahead of her. Honestly, she’s trying to kick the back of his shoes to speed him up, but Spider-Roommate’s a little too agile.

“Right here,” she assures him, flashing him the key ring in her hand.

“I just didn’t want you to be―”

“I know, loser.”

She observes as he hefts his backpack onto his shoulder and reaches past her to pull the door shut after them. He locks up and drops his key into his backpack. The solo key. Right in there, with all the other crap Peter keeps crammed inside. Half the time, when he has class and she doesn’t, she hears him arrive home and gets up to let him in. (Has she been listening for him? Not consciously.) Otherwise, he’s fumbling through his bag for ages for that key. Hilarious that he thinks he needs to take care of her like this, when she’s the one who’s been doing that for him.

Caring in a loose sense. Not actual caring. Just, making something more convenient.

They walk down the stairs. MJ’s instinct is always to hang back―like she’s trailing him or trying not to be seen with him―but Peter always slows down to her pace, never making it a thing. By this point in the year, their steps are in sync. The rhythmic thumps are an excuse not to speak. For her, anyway.

It’s early and MJ doesn’t have class until tonight. The explanation she’s been going with since this little morning ritual started is that it gives her more time to get shit done and keeps her established sleep schedule from getting fucked up on days that she has to be on campus before noon. The number of steps they descend together has grown familiar beneath the soles of her sneakers, she knows every little gouge in the wall. With Ned moving in, the number of days left for MJ to do this is suddenly pretty small. She’s nervous about it; she’s never been one for countdowns. Pulling her wool cardigan closed, she crosses her arms over her chest like she’s holding herself in and tucks her hands into her armpits.

“Have a good morning,” Peter says, moving quickly across the cramped lobby to push the outer door open. “See ya.”

She feels him glance back at her, but she doesn’t return the look.

“Yep.”

Alone, MJ turns to their shared mailbox. Another benefit of a key ring: carrying multiple keys at one time without the risk of losing any of them. She opens it up, extracts their measly haul, and flips through as she climbs the stairs back to the apartment. The journey feels a lot farther when she’s heading up―could be the roommate that makes the difference, or only gravity.

Halfway up, she has to pause. It’s just junk mail, addressed to Peter, but she realizes she’s going to miss getting mail with his name on it.

Wednesday, February 3rd

Maybe you and I could live together if we ever learn to ease the tension ― “You & I” (Colony House)

Ned’s over when MJ gets home. Today’s the longest day of her week―six hours of class back-to-back, followed by an hour and a half of the work study she signed up for because her scholarship doesn’t cover rent outside of student residence. It’s just papering bulletin boards with student council notices, and the mundanity of the work is nice, but she’s reached her quota for expending effort today; she accepts Ned’s high-five as she drags her feet past the couch and heads to her room, lying face-down on her bed until it feels like she’s whole again.

Gradually (very gradually), she rolls onto her side and grabs her warped copy of Moll Flanders off the bedside table. Something about a woman living an extremely precarious life calms her. MJ’s breathing becomes slow and silent, but she stops herself after 15 pages. If she keeps reading, she’ll fall asleep. Instead, she sits up and trades her socks for the cozier version wedged under her mattress. She has a secret fear that Peter will steal them. He’s gotten a covetous look in the past, so she’s taking precautions.

She pulls her laptop to her instead of going to her laptop and tidies up the Works Cited page on her in-progress paper. This task of thoughtless precision is the only school-related thing she feels like tackling for the rest of the day. All of today’s classes are either of the Monday-Wednesday variety or once a week, so MJ isn’t in a rush to get the readings done. She stops to think, pulling up the digital copy of her planner, and stares at the test she has marked down for next week. Hmm. It’s before her paper’s due, meaning studying for it won’t be taking priority, but the test format is a mix of multiple choice and short answer. The class―a sociology course―is graded on a curve and she’s in there with a bunch of students from non-writing programs who are consistently shit at short answer questions. As long as she refreshes her memory about the material being tested, the grading curve will push her competent written answers to the head of the class. It’s all about working the system.

During her time alone in the apartment yesterday, MJ hammered out a thesis and introductory paragraph. Now, she approaches them ruthlessly to see if she can streamline. This is the most critical part; actually writing the paper is just her hands flying across the keyboard, tossing in quotations like air-dropped care packages to her primary source-obsessed professor.

No, no, her brain is rejecting it. She’s done enough today. She doesn’t exactly want to socialize, but Peter and Ned are generally good about letting her quietly stew in their company without expecting much from her. MJ heads to the bathroom to wake herself up by washing her face, then out into the living room.

“What are you nerds doing?”

Half of the reason for her question is just to scare them (not that that’ll actually work on Mr. Super-senses over there) because she can see they’re about to put a movie on. Peter spins around to look at her while Ned rises from the couch. Privately, MJ thinks it’s kind of nice how Ned feels so at home here, where Peter is. Then again, it is about to become his home. Fuck, she needs to talk to the art people about that room.

“We were just gonna watch Alien,” Peter offers.

“Again? Didn’t you tell me you guys did an Alien marathon over winter break?”

He smiles like he’s been caught and it’s cu―funny.

“Yeah, and Ned’s making hot chocolate.”

“Oh yeah?” MJ watches Ned stride purposefully into their tiny kitchen. “Finally making yourself useful?”

He waves a dismissive hand at her and she snorts a laugh. They’ve gotten to this good friendship place of brotherly/sisterly teasing.

“You wanna watch?” Peter asks, calling her attention back to him. She weighs her looming essay against the full day behind her.

“Ok.”

“Hot chocolate, MJ?” Ned immediately asks.

“Well, since you’re determined to be such a good host.”

Ned grins and turns back to the kitchen. MJ leans against the wall, watching Peter put the movie in―not watching, just, like, observing―then glances at Ned. He hasn’t made much progress with their drinks. A mismatched trio of mugs is on the counter and... that’s it.

“You need a hand?” she asks, pushing off the wall.

“Where’s the kettle? Didn’t it used to be in this drawer?”

Ned points into the sliding drawer at their heap of assorted pots and pans.

“It did,” MJ explains. “But that one broke, so we bought a new one. A new one, WHICH WE’RE HOPING NOT TO BREAK BY DROPPING IT INTO THE DRAWER THIS TIME, RIGHT, PETER?”

Her roommate gives a sheepish laugh.

“Our new one’s tucked behind the toaster,” she tells Ned, directing him with a jerk of her chin.

“You guys are buying appliances together,” Ned chuckles. “That’s adorable.”

It’s a somnambulant walk to the couch, where MJ huddles in the corner and zones out for most of the movie.

Thursday, February 4th

You burn through my mind, again and again, again/And again and again ― “Luna” (Bombay Bicycle Club)

Feeling a burst of resolve before the weekend, possibly in rebellion against Wednesday evening’s confusing feelings, MJ decides to text one of her art classmates re: the spare room. Somehow, what she ends up texting is a question about their prof’s office hours. Which MJ already knows the answer to.

Another thing she does is read the same page of her art history textbook over and over and over and over.

Friday, February 5th

You’re the only one worth seeing/The only place worth being ― “Cold Cold Man” (Saint Motel)

Peter’s class finishes an hour before MJ’s, yet he always dithers with his packing, so they end up leaving the apartment for their trip back to Queens (courtesy of public transit) at the same time. Traveling with him is one of the less flawed aspects of a friendship with Peter Parker. He won’t glare manspreaders out of their prime seats like MJ would, but he knows the shortest routes and, while train and bus timetables never line up well for her, Peter’s memorized and mastered the schedule. They never wait around.

Also, there’s, like, a bubble of chill around him. No one in their vicinity behaves like a violent asshole―not verbally, not physically. Is it some kind of Spider-Man thing? Is Peter’s skin emitting a sedative to keep the other passengers relaxed? MJ isn’t relaxed. She sways into him multiple times, their overstuffed backpacks knocking together, and he smiles at her, unbothered, as her heart revs ineffectually like a remote-control car someone’s trying to urge up a steep slope.

They walk the last two blocks to the spot where their paths diverge. There’s enough sunshine that the light snow that fell overnight has already been transformed into the slimy grit crunched beneath their boots. Her bag’s beyond heavy at this point, but she knows, at any sign of lag, he’ll offer to carry it for her and she just can’t deal with that shit right now. ‘That shit’ being Peter’s thoughtfulness. MJ just... she needs a day, two days, to remember that she knows how to live without Peter always in the next room. Without joint ownership of a fucking kettle.

“So, text me when you wanna head back on Sunday and we’ll go together?”

MJ frowns. It isn’t clear if the question is the timing for the return trip or if they’ll be making it as a party of two. She shrugs.

“If that works for you.”

“Ok, awesome.”

She nods though it doesn’t feel like a situation where the word ‘awesome’ is called for.

“Later, nerd,” MJ says, aiming for her mom’s as she marches away.

“Hey, MJ?”

She glances back. Peter’s still standing there, plaintive look on his face, hands clutching the straps of his backpack. He never wears gloves. She keeps telling him to wear gloves. Is she supposed to be responsible for Spider-Man’s frostbite? What a pain in the ass this guy is.

Her attention’s enough to get him to continue.

“It’s ok, right? It’s ok about Ned moving in? It’s just, you were kind of quiet during the movie the other night and we didn’t talk much yesterday either...”

With a deep breath, MJ walks back to him.

“I’m just busy,” she says, meeting his eye, then letting her gaze drift off. “Big essay coming up.”

“...And about Ned?”

“Oh yeah, that makes sense, like I said. Did you forget?” It’s maybe the shittiest attempt at teasing someone ever made, but MJ doesn’t really tease Peter.

“But it’s not, like, bothering you or anything, is it? I mean, you don’t regret agreeing?”

Do you? she wants to ask and doesn’t.

“I’m fine, Parker, stop worrying about it,” she says instead. “If you bring this up again after Ned moves in with you, I’m going to have to come back to the apartment and booby-trap it, Home Alone-style.”

He smiles.

“Harsh.”

“Alright,” MJ concedes, “Parent Trap-style, like they did to the cabin. No swinging paint cans, just buckets of molasses.”

“Deal. Consider my silence bought.”

“I didn’t buy your silence, nerd, I ensured it through coercion. Aren’t you supposed to have experience dealing with bad guys? Yikes.”

Peter starts laughing and, incredibly, she does too, the two of them stalled on the corner.

“Ned’ll keep me out of trouble.”

“Yeah, well, he better,” she says easily. Too easily. Jesus, what the hell is she saying? “Because, uh, I need you alive long enough to pull off the Parent Trap thing.”

Shit, she made an offhanded reference to the possibility of his being murdered. Nice. Really great stuff. He won’t want her out on the 15th now―he’ll never want her back in the apartment with him again.

“Of course.”

Peter glances down, but when his face tilts back up, he’s smiling at her. Why the fuck does it feel like they’re saying goodbye forever? MJ nods an awkward farewell to end this strangeness. That’s when Peter moves towards her and she freezes. What’s he doing? They don’t have a secret handshake like he and Ned do. He catches himself when his arms start to lift and looks horrified.

“Sorry,” Peter blurts. “I don’t know what... I was going to hug you.” He laughs self-consciously. “That’d be weird, right?”

“And it’s managing to get weirder without even happening.”

He takes a step back, but MJ surges forward impulsively. She tucks her chin over his shoulder, her hands squeezing his sides because the backpack makes a full embrace impossible―Peter’s backpack is helping her make wiser choices than her own brain.

“Bye,” she says, soft and fast, and turns, jogging to catch the light.

Saturday, February 6th

The longing never ends/Letting go of ways that we changed, still I pretend ― “Fire Flower” (Summer Salt)

Her gram comes over for dinner. Or, more like MJ and her mom pick her gram up from the apartment she shares with her sister and bring her back for dinner. Ever since Gram’s wife (they never made it official, but that doesn’t change who these women were to each other) died, she’s been living with her sister, but MJ’s great-aunt, 79 years old as she is, has a hot date tonight, so Gram has made time for them in her busy schedule. She’s a real jokester about that in the car, about how she’s missing Westworld for them. When MJ shoots back that she can and has watched Westworld any time she wants (she’s pretty sure Gram’s on her third rewatch of season one), her mom shoots her a look from the driver’s seat. When she adds that Gram only watches because she has a crush on Thandie Newton, they have to roll down the windows to let a little of the laughter out.

Her mom won’t let her wash dishes during her first visit home for over a month, but she has nothing against MJ drying them. As they work, Gram sits at the kitchen table and asks her all about school. Asks if she’s still drawing naked people (yes, Gram, the figure-drawing class runs all year), asks if Financial Aid’s trying to snatch her scholarship back (no, Gram, but I’ll call you if they try anything).

“And are you still living with that boy?”

Normally, MJ would laugh this question off, same as the others. Normally. Her hands still, holding a mug wrapped in a dampening tea towel.

“What’d you say, honey?”

Gram’s a little deaf and not used to MJ not firing an answer back immediately. She assumed she didn’t hear the response, not that MJ didn’t give one. MJ thinks for a second. Probably better not to alarm her gram with news of her upcoming change of living situation. She doesn’t want to be worried about and, technically, she is still living with ‘that boy’ for another eight days.

“Yes, Gram. Peter.”

“His name is not one of the things I need to know about him. I just need to know that he’s not getting in the way of your ascent to greatness.”

MJ smiles and finishes drying the mug.

“Nobody’s going to do that.”

“Good girl. And you feel safe there?”

“Gram, he’s an Avenger.”

Yeah, maybe that’s top-secret information. Whatever. Who’s her gram going to tell?

“I don’t mean do you think he’d pull you out if the building fell down―”

“Nice image, Mom,” MJ’s mother contributes with a roll of her eyes.

“―I mean how are you handling sharing a space with a boy who’s in love with you?”

MJ’s drying a fistful of silverware and it spills out of her grip, scattering across the counter. A lone spoon plops back into the sink’s soapy water. She clears her throat and reaches for the cutlery. Reaches even farther for her composure.

“He’s not, and what would that have to do with safety?”

“Let me tell you, he most certainly is.” Apparently, Gram’s rejecting the question. She never wastes her own time on words she can’t be bothered to speak.

“A boy and a girl can room together without there being... feelings,” MJ points out. It’s irritation that’s making her blush. Irritation at herself for being wrong-footed by her gram over Peter freaking Parker.

“Yes, they can, but I’m not talking about ‘a boy and a girl,’ I’m talking about Peter and yourself.”

“I think getting a Netflix account has made you suspicious,” MJ gently accuses. “What’ve you been watching on there?”

“None of your business.”

Gram changes the subject, letting her off the hook, but the next time MJ turns to look at her, Gram gives her a wink.

Well, she can think what she likes, even theorize aloud. Doesn’t make her right. If it’s between Peter and MJ, her own feelings are the ones that make her feel unsafe, unbalanced, unprepared. Maybe he’s considerate with her, maybe he’s kind to the point of being sweet (when she lets him be), but that’s Peter. That’s just Peter.

Sunday, February 7th

You know I like you a lot, but/It still hits me like a rock ― “Hits Me Like a Rock” (CSS)

MJ’s breaking her promise to stay for lunch, bailing right after breakfast. She tells her mom she’d rather get back into school mode. Plus, she’ll be home for the week-long study break before midterms; only a week away. What she won’t think about is the possibility that she’ll be using her studying time for learning-to-cope-without-Peter-in-the-next-room time instead.

She doesn’t text him, by the way. Why cut his weekend short? True, escorting her home isn’t his responsibility, but he’d find some way to feel obligated. Definitely a Spider-Man thing. If only his overdeveloped sense of responsibility carried over into the putting his socks away department. Which is what she comes home to: Peter’s socks just inside the door of their apartment. On the floor, peeking out of every pair of his shoes like a grubby Beatrix Potter scene. MJ has no memory of things looking so dire when she left (they left―together). Must’ve been distracted by trying to remember if she had her transit pass, or whether her mom had asked her to bring anything home for dinner.

The sidewalks have become slushy again and, based on the wet spot near the toe of her left sock, she needs to re-waterproof her boots. For now, she troops straight to her bedroom, holding her dripping boots in one hand and a paper towel beneath them with her other. MJ settles them over the heat vent in her room. As she switches to dry socks, she eyes the boots like they should’ve known better.

It’s a cozy, forgetful few hours of solitude. Her paper’s due Thursday and the body of it isn’t exactly taking shape; she’s straining against the traditional essay format and finding it messy going, even though it feels like she’s on the right track. High school has underprepared her for this and overprepared her for things like... robotics. It’s amazing how few people give a fuck about robotics when she’s sitting in a lecture on the Dutch masters.

Peter never remembers to shut his bedroom door and, without trying to look, MJ gets a glimpse from the hall, right through his room and out the window, of snow lazily starting to fall when she rises to get a glass of water. The call of hot water is strong, but she showered his morning before breakfast. The best she can do is snuggle into bed and languidly run a highlighter over some readings for Tuesday.

MJ finds out she fell asleep when she wakes up to Peter’s disbelieving shriek. The sound isn’t loud, but it has her up and fighting her way out of her blankets to stumble into the hallway at the same time her roommate comes sliding into it from the kitchen. He sighs in relief. Spins, clutching his hair. That’s a little much, she thinks. What a fucking dork.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asks, ignoring how good it feels to see him again. Again? They were apart a day.

“You never texted me and then, and then―” He gestures behind him. “―your boots weren’t at the door.”

“They were soaked,” MJ explains slowly. “They’re drying in my room.”

Peter’s still getting over... whatever this is that’s happening to him.

“Your boots are always at the door.”

She looks at him carefully, surprised to discover he seems to be coming down from genuine panic.

“Are you ok?”

He does an odd shrugging motion and approaches her.

“I’m ok.”

“Do you need a―”

Peter claps his arms around her and MJ goes immobile.

“Yeah, I did,” he agrees.

She’s trying to figure out when she should tell him she planned to end that sentence with ‘doctor.’ Or something else, even. Something that would calm him. Only... he does seem calm. Feel calm. His hands are spread on her back. His body’s sturdy enough to pull her in and push her back out again with his every breath when he’s hugging her like this, but at least they’re slow breaths. It’s actually kind of ok. Nice. Warm. Confusing.

Before MJ can wrap her arms around his neck, caught up in this intermission from the Parker and Jones: Roommates and Nothing More sitcom, Peter puts his hands firmly on her waist and steps away from her. Then glances down to see where his hands are and drops them.

“S-sorry. I... I was... I overreacted.”

“I’m fine,” she says with what’s supposed to be a shrug but manifests as a twitch. “I’m good. Nobody murdered me on my way home. So...” Idiotically, MJ chucks him on the shoulder in a mortifyingly fatherly manner. “Thanks for keeping the streets safe, Spider-Man.”

“Uh, yeah, you’re welcome. Glad you’re safe.”

Peter’s red-faced, swinging his arms, looking at her and then not looking at her, as she retreats back into her room and closes the door.

Not safe. MJ is not safe.

Monday, February 8th

I’ll speak a little louder, I’ll even shout/You know that I’m proud and I can’t get the words out ― “Everywhere” (Fleetwood Mac)

She’s wasting the one-hour gap she has between classes. It’s supposed to be for eating lunch and, these days, either studying for tomorrow’s test or adding something brilliant to her paper. It isn’t supposed to be for eating lunch with a couple of nerds who’ve braved the art building to join her. Ned’s awe of the building makes MJ start to smile before he changes topics to the reason he and Peter are actually barging into her schedule―discussion of Ned’s move-in.

Based on their landlord’s 1st and 15th rule, Ned will be an official renter seven days from now. To the boys, it therefore makes sense for Ned to be taking over that day. And to MJ too, of course. It totally makes sense to MJ. The 15th is also the first day of their break week, so there won’t be classes to plan around. Nothing could be more straightforward! MJ can get her stuff packed up this weekend (the 13th-14th) and have her mom pick her up in the car the next day to relocate her to her new living space. Which―fuck―she’s definitely going to text her classmate about. When asked about her living plans directly, she smiles and spoons hot soup into her mouth.

She’s good with it. Ned’s good with it. Peter’s... holding things up. He claims he’s only wondering if they need more time before Ned moves in because he doesn’t want anyone’s boxes to get mixed up. Ned pipes up with information on his thorough labelling technique. MJ just watches Peter. His eyes flick to her more than once, like she’s going to protest, maybe? She wouldn’t. She doesn’t want to screw this up for them. Rooming together is what these two losers wanted from the start. The only thing she has to do is step aside. Fine, she can manage that.

“And we’ll just... see each other around,” Peter says as the three of them are finishing lunch.

But he doesn’t say it to Ned, obviously. Not to Ned, who will be living across the narrow hallway from him in a week. He’s looking right at MJ. Damn his gentle, baby-animal eyes. She hadn’t really thought about this. When would she see Peter? They’re in different programs with classes in different buildings. Their schedules overlap in a way that was convenient for eating dinner together most nights, not in a way that means they’ll bump into each other on campus during their downtime. They’re overachievers who haven’t been able to sustain friendships outside of school. Except for with Ned. Except for with each other.

When Peter does this incomprehensible motion that, in another universe, might look like he was reaching for her hand, MJ nods in agreement. Then, as her eyes start to well without her permission, pretends to have burnt the roof of her mouth on her final spoonful of soup.

It’s been cold for half an hour.

Tuesday, February 9th

Bless your body, bless your soul/Pray for peace and self-control ― “The World We Live In” (The Killers)

MJ isn’t sweating because she’s retroactively stressed about the test. The test went fine. She prepared; in fact, she overprepared―devoting her entire morning and too much of the afternoon to revision when she should’ve been working on her fucking paper. That’s why she hurried back. That’s why she’s sweaty and ready for a hot shower. It’ll refresh and refocus her and she’ll bang out a few paragraphs of the paper tonight, a few tomorrow (even though it’s the longest day of her week; she’s putting the nightmarish reality out of her mind for now), and have time to proofread the whole thing Thursday morning before she turns it in.

It’s a plan and she loves it. MJ heads to her room, vaguely noticing that Peter’s bedroom door is shut. Huh, maybe he’s hunkered down to do some studying of his own. She dumps her backpack and flings off her sweatshirt and, you know what, her t-shirt too when it wants to cling to the sweatshirt and be removed at the same time. The bathroom’s right next to her room.

MJ darts over in her bra and the sweatpants she wore to take her test and opens the door.

Just as Peter flips the bathroom light on.

She twists away and slams her back into the hallway wall. Jesus Christ. Blinking won’t wipe away the sight of Peter standing there with a towel tucked around his hips. Just the towel. Just that one towel. Fuck, she has to handle this somehow. The situation, that is.

“Sorry,” MJ blurts. “The light was off and, and I didn’t think and―”

“I like to shower in the dark. It kinda lets my senses rest and―”

“I finished my test early so you probably weren’t expecting me home and―”

“―then I needed the light on to shave because I cut myself enough with it on to have zero desire to attempt shaving my face in the dark and―”

Her heart’s pounding so loudly that between that sound and her own words, she’s barely catching any of what Peter’s saying.

“Such an invasion of privacy,” she sighs out in conclusion. He falls silent too. The bathroom door’s still open and a warm radiance stretches the width of the hall; MJ wants to reach her fingertips out and let them glow.

“So,” Peter says, urgency draining into timidity, “your test went well?”

“Yeah.” Looking down at her bare feet on the carpet of the hallway they still share, MJ smiles. “You cut yourself shaving?”

“You can laugh if you want.”

His tone isn’t offended and she knows he wouldn’t mind if she did laugh. Probably wouldn’t be surprised. She isn’t... she isn’t soft with him.

“I was just wondering why I’ve never noticed.”

“Oh, well, the cuts heal up pretty fast. They’re small cuts. I’m not that bad at shaving.” Peter clears his throat and she’s standing there yet, listening. “Plus, we don’t get close.”

A terrible, awkward, one-note laugh rips out of MJ.

“True.”

But her roommate doesn’t join in.

“We’re never close,” he says quietly. She shivers.

MJ’s back in her bedroom with the door shut―leaning against it―in a second. Maybe Peter started to move when she moved. Maybe he stepped out into the hallway with his raggedy towel and his squeaky-clean skin and the flush on his face from the steam because he heard her and thought she might be coming his way instead of hiding like a coward. She can’t know without witnessing it. His footsteps never make a sound.

Wednesday, February 10th

It’s hard to know which way to go/Come and find me, come and find me ― “Between Days” (Far Caspian)

Clearly, despite her best intentions, MJ is giving off a vibe. Not her regular approach with caution vibe. No, no. She doesn’t know where that withering aura of distance has gone, but she’s lost it and the atmosphere around her has changed as smoothly as the colours in a mood ring. It must have, because Peter hugs her for the second time this week, pulling her into an abrupt embrace before she heads off to campus in the morning.

This is supposed to be the thing about roommates, right? Always invading your space. Only, through the decaying brick wall of her denial, she sees that this isn’t the same thing. He’s not rummaging through her search history or eating her groceries (besides―fuck―they’re kind of their groceries, like the whole kettle situation); he’s initiating moments of physical affection. MJ knows the hugs are affectionate and not perfunctory. If it were otherwise, if they were the kind of automatic hugs that happen in less established friendships upon every meeting and farewell, Peter and MJ would always have done them and it wouldn’t feel so momentous that, suddenly, he’s electing to hold her.

He doesn’t try it when she gets home. That’s a good thing. She’s tired and not so much cooking dinner as microwaving an assortment of shit from the fridge for the sloppy meal that will sustain her through wrapping up the final section of her midterm paper and writing the conclusion. Peter’s sitting on the couch with a textbook in his lap when she gives him a sharp wave and goes to her bedroom, closing the door firmly behind her.

The final section is an uphill (if the hill’s a ski slope slicked over by ice rain―and also there’s an avalanche rumbling down from the submit) battle that takes until nearly 10pm to complete. MJ’s focus is hanging by a thread and she’s rerouting all of her energy to keeping her brain on task. That means no getting up to hunt up a chocolate bar or make a cup of coffee. She can do this. She just has to force herself through to the end. It’s one more paragraph, or maybe a big one and a small final final one of a line or two, to bring home her argument with a little more flair.

MJ pushes ahead, but apparently, the scale of her determination hasn’t left enough space for her memory to function, because she’s mixing up the order of her sub-points, and she’s missing the first part of her thesis entirely. She keeps scrolling―up-down, up-down―to refer to the part she’s already written. It’s coherent, and that should be helping her now, but fucking stress or something is making her concentration worse the harder she tries.

She lives lightly in the apartment. She’s tidy and contained and quiet. The sound of frustration she makes as it feels like this whole assignment is unraveling (has she fucked it up from the beginning? Should she start over completely? Oh god, it’s eleven o’clock! How is it eleven?!) is hellish. MJ’s head slumps to her desk and she starts weeping. Why is this so hard? She’s tired.

It’s possible that she doesn’t hear his knock, but Peter barges into her room. She gets herself to sit up and wipe her fingers under her eyes, her palms over her wet cheeks.

“It’s not―” Coming together, she wants to say. Fair, she wants to say.

“I know,” Peter interrupts, walking over to her chair. “How ‘bout you step away from that for a minute?”

He puts his hand out to her and MJ sniffles as she stares at it. She slaps her palm to his and he holds on, pulling her up. Probably to guide her towards the TV or the kitchen for a hot drink, but MJ steps into him instead, her head on his shoulder, her nose against his neck.

It’s the smell she’s smelt when she hangs her coat on the hook next to his, when she sits on the couch and can tell he’s recently sat in the same spot. Normally, this is a following smell―the scent of coming upon him after he’s gone. Shock that it’s become a now smell makes MJ jerk back, realizing what she’s doing. She’s never practiced friendly hugs. She doesn’t know how to do them. Peter, on the other hand, hugs people all the time―mainly Ned and his aunt―and yet his failings are equal to hers. There’s nothing pal-like in how he puts his hands on her or flexes his arms around her or gently gathers her closer. When he lets her step back, she sort of wishes he hadn’t. But she’s not thinking. Fucking paper.

MJ swivels and sits on the edge of her mattress.

“I can’t end it,” she tells him bluntly.

Peter’s eyebrows raise... hopefully?

“No?”

She shakes her head.

“My introduction’s solid, but I’m getting lost somewhere in the middle trying to recap it.”

“Oh. Oh. Well, you could maybe― Is it ok if I sit down?” She nods. He continues, glancing sideways at her, a foot of space between them. “You could read it out loud? To me?”

“The whole essay?”

“If that’s what you need.”

MJ narrows her eyes at him.

“Parker, don’t you have your own work to do?”

He shrugs.

“I handed in a report today and I have a quiz on Friday. The grading for that class is, like, fifty percent quizzes. Pretty sure my prof just didn’t want to have to make up an exam.”

“Then my real question is, why do you want to do this?”

Why is she pushing him? MJ doesn’t know. Honestly, she’d prefer if it she shut up right about now and quit trying to get rid of her roommate. Her handsome, academically-capable roommate, sitting next to her on her bed. The only other time he’s touched her bed was when he helped her move it in here in September.

“Because it’s too soon to rewatch Alien?” She catches Peter’s eye and grants him a smirk as he laughs at his own joke. “Go,” he encourages, nodding towards her laptop. “Read it.”

With an indulgent sign, MJ lifts her computer from her desk to her lap. She mumbles a little at first; even if it’s a stupid paper rather than creative writing, they’re her words and she’s speaking them aloud for him to hear. But three paragraphs in, she glances over and Peter’s leaning back on his hands with his eyes closed. MJ almost snaps at him for not listening―incredible how fast the stress will flare up and demand an outlet―until she realizes he’s concentrating, eyebrows pulling together as she continues. Immediately after that, she stumbles over a full fucking sentence, but she comes out the other side with a steadier, louder voice.

When she reaches the end of what she has written, Peter nods and opens his eyes.

“I think―” he starts, but MJ shushes him.

Frantically, her hands trip and clack across her keyboard. The conclusion pours out, word after word after word. One big paragraph and a small final final one for flair. The second she’s done typing, MJ saves the document, puts her laptop back on her desk, and falls backwards onto her bed.

She takes three deep breaths, then says, “Now I just have to edit it.”

“Don’t I get to hear your conclusion?”

“In a minute.”

Peter drops onto his back beside her and sighs like he’s being denied something he really wanted. She rolls her eyes at him. What a nerd.

Their arms brush. He bounces his foot. Her back cracks when she pushes her shoulder into the mattress. She looks at him and gets the feeling that she just missed him looking at her.

“I’m waiting,” he whispers, and MJ laughs.

“Let it breathe, Parker. I just finished it.”

“Can you pass me that blanket then? I’m getting cold.”

“It’s like a hundred degrees in here,” she argues, but she thumps the blanket folded across her bed onto her roommate’s stomach.

After a minute of watching him get cozy, MJ’s jealous.

“Give me some of that.”

He lets her tug it over. The blanket’s big (Gram made it that way), but she’s pretty sure Peter moves closer with it.

She tucks her legs up and catches site of his watch as she arranges herself. A bit after midnight. Quarter-after. At quarter-after, she’ll get up, evict the dork from her room, and edit. MJ closes her eyes.

Thursday, February 11th

I had a dream that I kissed your lips and it felt so true/Then I woke up as a nervous wreck and I fell for you ― “Fell for You” (Green Day)

They’ve made up for three years of nearly hug-less friendship in one night; MJ wakes up slowly to find her arms around Peter, and his around her. She keeps her eyes half-open. Evidently, they clung in their sleep, facing each other, and she’s never been so comfortable. But things are going to get uncomfortable any second when Peter stirs. She almost doesn’t want him to. Then, he shifts and she feels his erection against her thigh where it’s slotted between his. MJ tries to cautiously extract her leg―heart pounding in her ears―and Peter lifts his bowed head. His bleary brown eyes meet hers.

“Hi.” His voice is like rug burn.

“I have to edit my paper,” she remembers.

She’s waking up more now, noticing the light in her room. Not the lamp she left on last night, but the morning light that generally brightens the space, coming from Peter’s window across the hall. She puts her hand down to push herself up to a sitting position and it lands on his upper arm. In a blink, his hand’s gripping her arm, preventing a topple. Wow, those reflexes are something. MJ glances shyly down into her roommate’s face.

“Paper,” she says again.

“Right.”

He sits up quickly beside her―hair all sticking up at the back of his head―and she pretends not to notice him notice his erection.

“I’ll, uh, maybe I’ll see you for breakfast?”

MJ nods without looking at him and hears Peter stumble backwards out of her room, kicking away the blanket that’s tangled around his foot. He closes the door behind him and she does not see him at breakfast. The awkward energy from the situation that she doesn’t really take time to process sends her headlong into edits. When she does make it to the kitchen, it’s with her paper tucked inside a presentation folder and her hand snatching a store-bought muffin off the counter. She can hear the shower running and is grateful that she won’t have to face Peter yet.

No, that doesn’t happen until she’s on campus, between classes; she’s handed in her assignment without incident and it’s a huge relief. Not only does Peter know her schedule as well she knows his, apparently, but he also knows exactly where she’ll be on her break. She almost bumps into him coming around the corner of a building.

It feels like she’s seeing a one-night stand in the light of day―except they didn’t sleep together and MJ already saw him in the light of day. It’s just such a contrast between this morning and now. For one thing, they’re upright. For another, they’re both fully awake.

She offers an uncertain, close-lipped smile as they exchange ‘hi’s.

“Um,” MJ starts, “what’re you doing here, Peter?”

“Oh, I just wanted to find out how it went. With your essay.”

“Well, I turned it in and I can’t really tell you more than that until I get it back.”

They stare at each other for a minute before Peter goes, “Right. Right, right, right.”

“You wanna... walk with me?”

“Sure. I have class in twenty minutes, and I have to get over to the other end of campus, but―”

“Go!”

“You sure?”

“Yes! Go, you moron. What are you doing here?”

“I was gonna bring you...” He pats his pockets and she knows it’ll be fruitless before he tells her. If whatever Peter needs isn’t already in his hand, he’s forgotten it somewhere. This is a Rule of Peter. “A chocolate bar. I forgot it.”

She smiles.

“That’s ok.”

“I thought you might need the energy since it was a pretty late night.”

The girl walking past them darts an interested glance in their direction. MJ glares at her, but Peter really could’ve phrased that to sound more innocent. Because it was innocent. Wasn’t it? A couple of students collapse from the exhaustion of midterm assignments. That’s not a clever romantic setup, it’s overwork thanks to a system designed to crank them through the academia factory and spit them out at the end with a degree.

“Yeah. Um, I’ll survive,” she promises. “You better get to class.”

Peter takes a few steps and turns back like he’s struggling with something, wanting to speak.

“Seriously, Parker,” MJ insists. “If you’re late, I’ll almost feel bad.”

This is supposed to be the part where he laughs, but her roommate just looks conflicted as he walks away from her.

He almost brought her a chocolate bar. God, she is so fucked.

Friday, February 12th

That’s not just friendship, that’s romance too/You like music we can dance to ― “I’ll Try Anything Once” (The Strokes)

“Have you been waiting long?” MJ asks when she leaves class and Peter’s standing right outside, hands in his pockets.

He scrunches his face up and turns to fall into step with her as they leave the building, then campus.

“It sounds better if I say, ‘no,’ right?”

She laughs and looks over at him.

“If you do, I’m going to assume that, on top of finishing class an hour before I do, you were also let out early.”

“It’s that obvious I’m trying that hard?” he asks with a sheepish smile.

What. MJ can’t respond.

After a minute, Peter sighs.

“I might as well tell you that my prof said we didn’t have to come today.”

“You didn’t actually have to be on campus at all?”

“No.”

“So, you’re just here...”

He nods at her implied ‘for me.’

“We’re on break now,” Peter reminds her. “Let me walk home with my roommate.”

“Might as well. Last chance.”

She feels him staring at her, but MJ does her best to look straight ahead as they walk back to their apartment.

He’s on the phone with Ned later, sitting on the arm of the couch in their living room. MJ starts putting her things together, neat piles of books and folded clothes that’ll be easier to pack tomorrow and Sunday. She leaves her door open. It used to annoy her (or she lied to herself that it did), how often Peter and Ned talk on the phone―don’t they know their generation isn’t supposed to do that anymore?―and the fact that her roommate’s soft voice carries so well through their apartment. Ok, fine, it doesn’t carry that well, she just listens for it. She can admit it now, in her bedroom, standing near the doorway to hear his happy voice.

Peter’s flopped backwards, off the arm and onto the couch and still talking animatedly to his best friend, when MJ emerges from her room. She walks directly to the couch and drops her balled-up cozy socks onto his stomach, fleeing before he can attempt to catch her eye.

Saturday, February 13th

This is not a test, welcome to the party/I’ve been on my best behaviour, but I think it’s time/ You saw the other side ― “Best of Me” (Amanda Marshall)

MJ ruthlessly scours the apartment for every article of her clothing that could possibly be dirty. It’s not a tough job; unlike Peter, she mostly keeps her stuff in her bedroom. She has a sack for carrying her laundry to their building’s first-floor machines (because an actual laundry basket takes up too much space with its defined corners) and she stuffs it, lugging everything down there before breakfast. Waiting around is kind of nice because none of the other tenants have shown up yet. Plus, like always, MJ has a book. She transfers her load from the washer to the dryer and leans back against the wall, flipping through a yellowed, soft-paged copy of The Joy Luck Club.

Since she’s been doing laundry down here all year (except for when she goes home for the weekends and winter break), MJ knows the ways of these machines. Which is why it’s so disturbing when the dryer halts five minutes before its cycle should be ending. Unwatched, she jabs at the settings, but the machine’s completely crapped out, so MJ starts hauling her laundry back into the sack. The small stuff―socks, underwear, t-shirts―has dried, but her sweatshirts are still damp. Unfortunately, with the stress of assignments, the sweatshirts are what she’s primarily lived in the past few weeks, meaning all four of them were in there at once, and all four of them are too damp to put on.

She laughs bitterly at herself; at the last second, she’d even taken off the sweatshirt she had on over her tank top.

To stay warm and keep herself from running into anyone, MJ pounds up the stairs and slips into her apartment. She can pack up the dry clothes and hang the sweatshirts off her doorframe, her chair, wherever else seems suitable, until they dry. She’s flinging one over the shower rod when Peter comes walking down the hall and pokes his head in.

“The dryer...” she starts to explain, positioning her sweatshirt, but Peter disappears. MJ rolls her eyes.

In a minute, though, he’s back. When she turns to leave the bathroom, her roommate thrusts one of his own sweatshirts at her.

“Peter,” she sighs, “stop trying to take care of me.”

“Ok, I will after this.” He shakes the sweatshirt at her. “Put it on.”

“What are you trying to do, nerd? Mark me as your territory? Quit being such a Neanderthal.”

With a smirk, MJ brushes by him, but Peter tries to lay the sweatshirt over her shoulder. She shrieks a laugh, ducking to escape it, and suddenly her roommate has his arms around her waist, picking her up with her back to his chest.

“You’re gonna be cold,” he huffs, leaning backward as she squirms.

“I’ll get a blanket!”

“A blanket will get in the way while you’re packing!”

“I’ll cope! Let me go pack!”

“Just wear! My! Sweatshirt!”

She goes limp and he sets her on her feet.

“I surrender,” MJ declares.

“Good.”

Peter bends to pick up the sweatshirt she’s shaken off with all their goofing around, breaking his hold on her, and she bolts for the living room yelling, “Sike!”

Logically, she’s aware that she can’t outrun Spider-Man, but a giddy mania pushes her to attempt it. He tackles her into the back of their couch before she can clamber over. Well, it’s sort of a tackle. Actually, Peter’s barely touching her, but he’s behind her with his hands gripping the back of the couch to either side of her hips.

“There,” she says, feeling him at her back, “you saved me from being cold.” MJ turns with a prepared smile; as the silliness fades away, the way his exhalations hit her back felt too much like tension. She meets his eye, straightening up because he’s so close. What did he say? They’re never close? “I’ll just jog up and down the hall every so―”

Peter kisses her mouth.

Just as she begins to lean into it, brain swirling and spiking with confusion, he steps back. Then again. Again, again, again. He spins at the hall and goes right to his bedroom.

MJ doesn’t know what to do, so she stands there a few minutes, face working its way through a series of expressions dictated by the imaginary conversation she and her roommate are having in her head. The one they have because he stays put two goddamn seconds after planting one on her. His sweatshirt’s on the floor near the kitchen. MJ walks over and yanks it on, feeling vulnerable and bewildered.

Eventually, she plods back to her room.

It’s a shock when Peter knocks on her door a while later. She left it open, which was terrifying. She just figured, with this being the end, truly the end, she would allow whatever was going to happen to happen. If the kiss was an awkward misunderstanding, MJ will be leaving that behind with all the rest of her conflicted feelings two days from now.

“What’s up, Parker?” she asks, not turning around to face him. She’s packing up her printer, stuffing it back into the box it came in and taping it closed.

“Do you need any help?”

“Not really. You can help carry my mattress out of here when my mom comes on Monday though.”

She’s anticipating a quip rather than an evasion. Peter Parker is the kind of friend who will voluntarily carry your shit when you move. But he doesn’t give her either.

“You’re really going.”

Slightly annoyed, MJ turns to stare at him.

“Yeah, I’m really going. Hence the packing. It was your idea, remember?”

“It was easier when I thought you didn’t want to be here.”

She laughs the fakest laugh of her life.

“I don’t want to be here. You make loud phone calls and, and you come in late at night and you have socks everywhere. I think you might actually own every sock every human being has ever lost.”

He frowns at her.

“You never mentioned any of that. In the five months we’ve lived together, you never asked me to speak more quietly or put more effort into containing my clothes to my room.”

“Well,” MJ shoots back in exasperation, “now you know!”

“Are you mad at me for offering your room to Ned?”

“Peter...” She gives him a desperate look. It’s too late for this. Doesn’t he fucking get that? MJ exhales a sharp breath. “Peter, I’m moving out on Monday.”

“What if you didn’t?”

He’s being such an idiot. Everything is arranged. She can’t stay now that Ned’s about to come bounding in with his Lego and his best-friendship to be a better match for Peter’s roommate that she ever was.

“I texted my classmate on Monday about the room. It’s mine. I’m moving out of here, Ned’s moving in. Everything’s settled.”

“Could we unsettle it?”

Peter walks into her room, right up to her. His eyes are pleading and she doesn’t want him to see that this little trick of his works just as well on her as on anyone else. That she’s susceptible to him. That’s not who they are to each other; she’s made a very good career of being his sarcastic, distant friend.

“You just don’t like change,” MJ tells him. “You didn’t mean it.” The kiss. “It was just a misguided attempt to keep me here. Nothing more.” She crosses her arms.

“You’re gonna hate hearing this, but you’re wrong.”

“Maybe I’m right and you haven’t figured it out yet.”

Peter shakes his head.

“It can’t be just me who’s felt different since I told you Ned’s moving in. Something’s changed.”

She rolls her eyes.

“You think you’re an expert on my feelings because you saw me cry in a moment of stress.”

“And you saw me half-naked!”

MJ glances away in frustration and because she doesn’t want him to see her reliving that memory.

“Being first year roommates,” she starts after a long pause, “is a condition. It’s a state of being that’s meant to change.”

“Good! I want to change it! I want us to be more than roommates. MJ, why can’t this be easy?”

“Because you noticed me last week and I’ve had a crush on you since we were fifteen!” she blurts out. “And don’t goddamn ask me why I didn’t say anything because not everyone’s brave like you, Peter. Ok? Not everyone’s Spider-Man. Some of us are just the roommate across the hall. Let me fucking get over this in peace!”

“Sure,” he says, looking down. “Got it.”

Peter nods definitively and twists away. Reaching her doorway, he turns his head slightly.

“Just so you know, you only have me beat by a year.”

Sunday, February 14th

By tomorrow I’ll be leaving/By tomorrow I’ll be gone/If you want to tell me something/You had better make it strong ― “Coming Down” (Dum Dum Girls)

On one hand, her mind knows the late-night assignment-finishing sessions are over for a while. On the other, it won’t let her sleep. MJ tosses and turns until almost four in the morning before she gets out of bed. In the dark, the only thing she can find to throw on over her pajama top is Peter’s sweatshirt, so she does.

Her thoughts felt so clear while she was lying down, but now that she’s up, things are hazy again. Did Peter really confess that he’s been interested in her since they were sixteen? Does that piece of information make her feel as mixed-up and, somehow, cheated as it did when he said it? Two morons in one apartment. Ned’s got a lot to live up to.

MJ leaves her room and crosses the hall to where Peter’s door is ajar, letting out a sliver of blue-white light. He’s probably sleeping. He won’t hear her coming if he’s sleeping. If he’s sleeping, she bargains with herself, she’ll turn right around and go back to bed. She eases the door open. Peter’s bedding rustles as he rolls over to face her.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” she mumbles. Fuck. Worst possible icebreaker in this situation.

“If I invite you in,” he wonders, voice groggy with insomnia, “are you going to push me away again?”

“No.”

“So do you believe what I said?”

MJ sighs.

“I’m trying to.”

Peter waits a minute, then pushes himself up in bed to sit with his back against the wall.

“You can come over here if you want.”

She hesitates for less time than her reluctant nature wants her to. Putting her hand out low, MJ feels for the end of the bed and sits down. It’s miles from him. We’re never close, he said.

“You’re wearing my sweatshirt,” he notes when she doesn’t say anything.

“Don’t start with that again,” she warns, but it’s light. This time, he waits her out until MJ’s compelled to speak into their silence. She begins at a whisper. “Caring about you is really hard. When we were in high school, I sort of felt my role was the unnecessary third wheel to you and Ned, and it still feels like that. Like, I think about you and I worry when I don’t hear you come home at night and, yeah, Peter, I was hurt when you sprung the Ned’s-moving-in thing on me.”

“To be fair,” Peter chimes in, “I never thought there was a reason that shouldn’t happen. I thought this whole living together thing was just a favour you were doing me. So, when Ned brought it up, I thought, finally, I can give MJ a way out.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, well, so are you.”

MJ smiles down at her lap.

“I have to tell you all of it, ok?” Peter asks softly.

Her heart’s pounding too hard. The light in the room isn’t moonlight, just the glow of someone in the next build over’s TV through the curtains. MJ only looks at him when the mattress shifts; he’s getting out of bed, wearing a dorky shirt and plaid bottoms.

“Tell me all of it,” she prompts when he stops in front of her, looking like he’s forgotten his lines.

“MJ, I love you.”

It sounds so right, but at the same time, she’s so scared. It’s a painful thing, looking up at Peter’s face. One half aglow.

“So, that’s all of it,” she says, trying to digest his confession without being too distracted by the depth of his expression.

He laughs shortly at himself.

“Not quite.”

And he kneels.

“What the fuck, Peter,” she gasps, jolting backwards.

“I don’t have a ring because I really haven’t thought this part out,” Peter says. MJ can’t say anything. Her throat, tongue, and lips are all broken. “I just know that I can’t let you go. You promised your new roommates you were coming, and I promised Ned he was moving in here, and that’s fine. It doesn’t matter where you’re living, I’m going to love you. I can wait to get married, or even engaged for real, but I couldn’t wait any longer for you to know how I feel. That’s all of it.”

She’s stunned. He looks exposed and terrified, like he’s holding his skin open, waiting for her to snap his ribs one by one before ripping his heart out. It takes long seconds, many of them, for MJ to shift forward until she slides off the bed to sit in front of her roommate. She takes his hand.

“We are engaged for real.”

With a relieved burst of laughter, Peter grabs the back of her head and kisses her hard. Oh, she’ll put stipulations on later―no ring before graduation, no wedding until they’re both employed full-time―but right now, she’s following Spider-Man’s example and reacting on instinct.

“Oh, and I love you too,” she adds between kisses.

His hands slide down her back. Everything about the way he’s touching her says: finally. Maybe they’re skipping a step, the one where one of them asks the other out and they go on dates and meet each other’s families. But they kind of have done those things. They’ve been living together since the fall, eating dinner together most nights, easing each other’s tiny stresses most days. They know each other’s secrets and coffee orders. They know, period.

MJ loops her arms behind his neck to hold him against her while they kiss, but when they start to lean sideways, it’s Peter who mutters, “bed.”

He repeats it as a question and she nods, hands clasped in his as they help each other to their feet. It’s so simple, this part. Peter draws back the covers and they tumble and rearrange. Murmured admissions of inexperience and the way he blushes when she asks about protection―not because he hasn’t bought any, but because he has.

“You know we’re fucked if this part’s no good, right?” she checks. She’s only partly joking. “We’ve staked everything on this.”

“This is just you and me,” he replies. “Same as everything else.”

MJ has this vague plan to leave his sweatshirt on if he doesn’t say anything about it, but by the time they’ve shimmied each other out of their pajama bottoms, she’s ten thousand degrees. So she wriggles free of the sweatshirt and the t-shirt she sleeps in and Peter hugs her tight to him. He can’t be real. She puts her arms tentatively around his back, expecting her hands to pass right through him. But he’s solid and warm and on top of her, shaking slightly when MJ runs her fingers through his hair.

She keeps it up, smoothing his hair and stroking the back of his neck, as Peter’s mouth finds her collarbone, as his hand runs down her stomach to tuck between her legs. The hitch in her breathing makes him groan and bite down on her nipple. When she lifts her hips, he rubs her more fiercely. She orgasms digging her fingers into his chest―the other hand clammy against his hair line, maybe from her palm, maybe from his skin.

Chest heaving, he tells her they don’t have to do any more if she doesn’t want to. MJ reaches between their panting bodies and takes hold of his erection. Looks into his eyes as she moves her grip up and down. Convinced, Peter rolls off of her to bang open the drawer of his bedside table. She stacks his pillows, shuffling up higher, and when he returns to her, she raises her knees to cage him in. They both watch his hands put the condom on.

The next few minutes are measured in the evolving rhythms of their breathing. Peter works himself in and out of her incrementally, so much tension in his arms and back where her needy hands grasp. She needs him―it’s a miraculous revelation. That he’s been an essential part of her life, piece of her existence, and that it’s ok for her to need him, not just dispassionately or critically observe the best and worst of him. She holds him tighter and he clutches her thigh, pushing in all the way. This feeling is as much of a stranger to her as she’s been to herself.

Peter’s still for a minute. Quietly, he says, “We actually did this.”

“Yeah,” MJ agrees, tracing his spine.

Suddenly moving together takes priority over the disbelieving laughter they began to volley back and forth. She rocks her hips with and against his thrusts and it’s like they’re fighting to push the same swing from opposite sides―the movements don’t match up at first, but eventually, an instinctive force takes over and the swing swings. Peter breathes hard into her neck; MJ hooks her legs up around his hips. Single-mindedly, they grope for just the right speed, just the right pressure. He kisses her neck and her eyes roll back as she holds his face there.

When he drags against her, catching her clit, MJ uses her legs to make sure those electrifying passes continue. But Peter can tell from the sounds she’s making too, she thinks. Though brief and disconnected, her cries are climbing in pitch. He picks up the pace when she asks him to. Soon, soon, soon, there. MJ pulls him down to her, arms around his neck, and climaxes with her forehead pressed to his shoulder. Her roommate, boyfriend, fiancé, swears and speeds up even more; it’s a few seconds of a sensation that buzzes more than thumps or thrums and then he’s curling his arms under her, grabbing the back of her neck.

Peter shifts off of her and, when she doesn’t immediately come with him, gathers her to him. Of course, then he remembers about the condom and gets up anyway. MJ snuggles into the warmth he leaves. After a minute, he pulls back the covers to join her again and they share a shy reintroduction, slipping back into their pajamas. It’s when he reaches first for her hand that she realizes she’s safe.

Across the street, someone shuts off the TV. Peter’s room goes dark. They fall asleep.

Monday, February 15th

Seven miles below me/I can see the world and it ain’t so big at all ― “This Time Tomorrow” (The Kinks)

“I’m seeing you for lunch tomorrow,” MJ reminds Peter, tugging her hand out of his. The final box of her possessions is in her arms. Downstairs, her mom’s car is at the curb.

He groans in complaint and follows her down the hall, past the kitchen, to the front door. Ned should be here within the hour; they staggered her move-out and his move-in to prevent collisions. And to give Peter more time with her. He admitted to that motive this morning, cooking them an omelette while MJ leaned her forehead against his back, smiling into his t-shirt.

“Ned’s key,” she says at the threshold. She holds it out to Peter and he pockets it.

“Thanks.”

MJ takes backward steps, moving away from him. He looks like he’s barely keeping himself from springing after her. She sighs.

“Come on,” she says, smiling. “Walk me down.”

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nazariolahela · 5 years ago

Text

Something Domestic: Chapter 17

A/N: Hey y'all! This story is told in first-person narrative, from Riley’s (MC) POV. There will likely be smidges of canon in this, but not too much. Thanks for reading, and please leave feedback, and/or if you would like to be tagged.

I just wanted to give a quick thanks to everyone who read this series. It was so much fun to write. Big thanks to everyone who gave feedback and bugged me about releasing new chapters on time. (Which I couldn’t seem to do towards the end. Haha sorry about that.) Anywho, I really appreciate everyone who took the time to read my writing. Y’all are amazing. 😘😘

Catch up here

Series Tags: @burnsoslow @aworldoffandoms @dcbbw @ladyangel70 @texaskitten30 @sunandlemons @jlynn12273 @indiacater @jared2612 @rainbowsinthestorm @drakesensworld @badchoicesposts @msjr0119 @katurrade @blackcoffee85 @cynicalworlds-blog @hopefulmoonobject @cmestrella @sugarandspice-milkandhoney @superharrietsuper @custaroonie @lady-calypso @ritachacha @olympianpantsuit @desiree-0816 @the-soot-sprite @kate-mckenzie @narrytheworld @octobereighth @lynne1993 @queen-anastasia-universe @loveellamae @sarzkh31 @iaminlovewithtrr @queenjilian

Synopsis: When Riley Brooks takes a new job as a nanny for the affluent Rhys family in New York’s Upper East Side, she assumes she’s just going to care for the children of the couple who hired her. But instead of just school pick-ups and afternoon snacks, she also finds herself spending time with Liam, the handsome divorced dad. Can Riley control her feelings for Liam while still performing the job she was hired for?

All characters are the property of Pixelberry Studios. Thanks for allowing me to borrow them.

Chapter Summary: Will Riley and Liam get their Happily Ever After?

Epilogue - Six Months Later

Hana and I stand in the living room of our old apartment, packing up the last of the boxes. It still hasn’t hit me yet that this will no longer be our home. We had some good memories here. I pick up a framed photo of us in the Hamptons the summer after we graduated college. It’s only from a few years ago, but I can’t believe how young we look.

Hana balances a box on her hip, peering over my shoulder at the photo. “Oh my gods, look at us.”

I turn around and hold it out to her. “Do you want it?”

She shakes her head. “You keep it. I already took the one from our vacation at the shore. I look better in that one anyway.”

“Yes you do,” I laugh and set the photo into a box and tape the lid shut. I stand up and take one last look around the apartment, making sure we didn’t forget anything. I smile to myself as I recall the last four years. I remember we had to sleep on an air mattress in the living room that first night because the moving truck wasn’t scheduled to show up with our furniture until the next morning. The washing machine on our floor broke a week after we moved in, so we had to wash all our clothes in the tub. There was also the time our upstairs neighbor tried to get us to have a threesome with him.

Hana glances out the window then turns back to me. “Your ride is here. If you want, I can take the keys down to the landlord.”

I unhook mine from my keyring and place it in her palm before wrapping her in a hug. I can’t stop the tears from escaping. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

She laughs through her own tears. “I’m only moving to the West Village. It’s literally a 30-minute drive. I promise we’ll get together once a week.” Her hand moves to my cheek to brush away my tears and the sunlight pouring in through the window catches the diamond of her wedding ring. Hana and Meghan got married last week in an intimate ceremony. The engagement was a short one and caught everyone by surprise, especially Hana’s parents. They were against it at first, but eventually came around and walked her down the aisle. I stood in as Hana’s Maid of Honor, with Meghan’s older brother serving as her Best Man.

“Promise you won’t turn into one of those married bitches who ditches her best friend for her wife?” I sniffle.

“As long as you don’t turn into one of those trophy girlfriends who ditches her best friend for her rich boyfriend.”

We laugh and share another hug before I grab my boxes and make my way downstairs. When I reach the sidewalk, I spot Liam leaning against the side of his car, looking mouthwatering in dark wash jeans and a white t-shirt. A sexy smirk spreads across his face. After the drama with Madeleine, Liam and I became official. He wanted to move me into his penthouse almost immediately, but I told him I had to wait for my lease to expire before we took that next step. Although to be honest, I’ve been spending nearly every night at his place.

He approaches me, taking the boxes from my hands and presses a searing kiss to my lips. “Got everything?” he asks as he moves to set the boxes in the trunk.

“Yep, Hana’s dropping the key off right now.”

He slings an arm around me and pulls me to him, kissing my forehead. Hana emerges a few minutes later, holding her own boxes. Liam walks over and takes the boxes from her as she and I share one last hug.

“What are you doing this weekend?” I ask her.

She beams. “Well, we’re meeting with the adoption agency for a home study. But I’ll call you next week. We can get lunch.”

My heart warms. Hana and Meghan applied to adopt a child a few months ago. I was over the moon when she shared the news. We all suspect the sudden engagement and marriage was a way to fast-track the adoption process.

A few moments later, Meghan’s car pulls up behind Liam’s. Hana and I say our goodbyes as Meghan grabs the boxes from Liam and puts them in the back seat of her car. Hana hugs Liam then climbs in the front seat. I make my way over to Meghan.

“Hey! I just want to say thank you for always being there for Hana. Even when I wasn’t. She’s very lucky to have you.”

“I’m the lucky one. But thank you. I know we’ve had our differences, but you mean a lot to her, and I want you and me to be friends.”

“I think we can do that,” I say before pulling her in for a hug. “Take care of my best friend, please.”

“I will.”

Meghan gives us a quick wave, then climbs into her car and pulls away from the curb. I wipe the tears from my face as Liam comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around me, and plants a kiss on the top of my head. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Ready to get out of here?”

“Ready when you are.” He opens my car door and holds it while I climb inside. He then jogs around the front to his side and slips in. He presses the push start button and the car roars to life. Shifting the car in gear, he pulls away from the curb and sets off down the street. I stare out the window and watch our old apartment building disappear. Liam reaches over and takes my hand, entwining our fingers, and presses a soft kiss to the back of it.

“Have you heard from Andrew lately?”

I dig through my purse with my free hand and fish out my cellphone. I open my messages and show him a photo of Andrew, Derek and Adam, and their new nanny Emily all lounging on the beach in Cabo. They all look so happy. Emily took over as Andrew’s live-in nanny a few months ago. I was the one who recommended her. She has a degree in early childhood development and she’s great at what she does. The best part was that she was more than willing to take the job. As much as I enjoyed working with Andrew and his dads, I just couldn’t commit to the live-in part. Thankfully, they were very understanding. They send me weekly updates, thanking me for bringing her into their lives. Although I will miss working with them, I know I made the right choice.

Liam glances at the photo and smiles. “I’ll take you to Cabo if you want. I’ll take you wherever you want to go. Just say the word.”

“You can start by taking me home. To our home.”

He nods and moves through traffic on the way to our home. I’m excited to see the kids. I ended up leaving the agency shortly after Liam and I got back together. It was hard at first, but I love that it gives me more time to spend with Charlotte and Philip. Now that Liam and I are a couple, we wanted to make sure the kids understood what was going on. After he gained sole custody, we sat down with them and explained our relationship. They were beyond elated to have me back. Philip immediately asked me if we could go to the park. Charlotte asked me if her daddy and I were getting married.

Liam pulls the car up to the building and parks it in the underground parking area. We grab the last of my stuff and make our way to the elevator. Once we’re inside, he gently takes the boxes from my arms and sets them on the floor. He then wraps his arms around me, gripping my ass, and pulls me to his body. Our lips meet in a passionate kiss. His lips trail down my neck and shoulder, sending chills throughout my body. I fist his t-shirt, feeling him grow hard against me. This elevator better hurry the fuck up so I can officially fuck him in our apartment.

When we reach the top floor, the doors glide open and two high-pitched voices break us apart.

“DADDY! RILEY!” Charlotte and Philip shout in unison as they greet us in the foyer. Belinda waves goodbye as she slips out. Liam decided to keep Belinda on as a part-time nanny. Meaning she only watches the kids when needed. Charlotte’s arms wrap around my leg. I pick her up and hug her.

“Riley! Can we go play with my new dollhouse?”

“Later, sweetie. I need to finish unpacking. Why don’t you go wash up? It’s getting close to dinner time,” I tell her, pressing a kiss to her rosy cheek. Philip runs up to me and hands me a picture he drew. I examine the artwork. Stick figure Liam and I are holding hands with stick figure Charlotte and Philip on either side of us. I smile and make my way into the kitchen, attaching it to the fridge. Liam comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my stomach, and nuzzles my neck.

“Look at my little van Gogh. Let’s take your stuff up to our room. Then we can order something to eat. And later, I can eat you.”

My cheeks flame. Thankfully the kids aren’t within earshot. Moments later they come bursting into the room. He smirks and disappears up the stairs. I call out to Philip and Charlotte. “Hey, guys! Dinner will be here soon. Let’s go get washed up.”

A little while later, the food arrives and we sit down to eat. I glance around the table and observe. This whole thing feels right. I have a perfect man sitting next to me, two amazing kids that love me and I love like they were my own. I also have wonderful friends who care about me. I have the urge to pinch myself because none of this feels real. Liam looks over at me and gives me a warm smile that sends the butterflies in my stomach aflutter.

Later that evening as we’re putting the kids to bed, Charlotte grabs my hand.

“Riley? Are you going to live with us forever?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Liam smirk. I crouch down and brush her hair out of her face. “I hope so, sweetie. I love living with you and Philip. And your daddy, of course.”

She nods, her eyelids growing heavy. “Good. You should stay here.”

I lean in and kiss her forehead, then make my way to Philip’s room. He is sitting on his bed, holding his favorite bedtime story. “Riley? Will you read me a story?”

I glance at Liam standing in the doorway, then turn back to him. “Isn’t that your daddy’s job?”

“I want you to do it.”

I chuckle and sit down at the foot of his bed, taking the book from him. He curls under the covers and waves his father over. Liam sits cross-legged on the floor next to his bed as I read to Philip from his favorite book. Within a few minutes, he’s out like a light. Liam smiles and takes the book from my hand, placing it in the bookshelf. He grabs my hand and guides me down the hall to our room. I swing open the door and notice the dim glow of candles and rose petals scattered all over the bedroom. So that’s where he disappeared to before dinner. My eyes widen in shock.

“Liam? What is all this?”

I turn around just as he drops down to one knee, pulling a velvet box from his pocket. His blue eyes glow in the candlelight.

“Riley Brooks, queen of my heart. Ever since the day I met you, you’ve changed my whole world. Every day with you these last six months feels like a dream that I don’t want to wake up from. You’ve embraced my kids and love them as if you gave birth to them. You stayed patient with me through all my ex-wife drama. And even when I put you through hell, you could have told me to fuck off and never talked to me again. But you didn’t. All I want in this world is to dedicate my life to being the best man that I can be… for you. I have yearned to say these four words for a very long time… Will you marry me?”

He opens the box and reveals the most stunning emerald-cut solitaire engagement ring. This bad-boy has to be at least 10 carats. I don’t even want to know what he spent on it.

“Ohmygods, Liam!” I choke out through my tears. “Yes! A thousand times yes!”

He grins from ear to ear and slips the ring from its box, then onto my finger. He rises to his feet and cups my face in both hands, his blue eyes staring directly into mine. “I love you, Riley.”

“I love you, too.”

He brushes his lips to mine in a tender kiss that quickly grows intense. He presses my body to his, and I wrap my legs around his waist. He carries me over to the bed and places me on the mattress, trailing his lips down my neck and across my collarbone. His hands go to work slipping off my shirt and bra.

“You won’t be needing these for what I’m about to do to you.”

Oh wow. A chill runs through my body, one he notices. He grins and trails hot kisses down my chest, taking one of my nipples in his mouth and gently tugs it in his teeth. The sensation shoots straight to my core and I let a soft moan slip from my lips. He begins to make his way down my stomach when I stop him.

“Wait!”

He looks up at me. “What’s wrong?”

I sit up and roll us over until I’m on top, straddling him. His eyes widen as I lean in and begin kissing my way down his chest. I don’t break eye contact as I slowly unbuckle and unzip his pants. His chest rises and falls in rapid succession.

“Riley, you don’t have to do this.”

I reach up and place a finger on his lips as I kiss a trail down his stomach until I reach the waistband of his boxer briefs. “Shh...Let me do this for you.”

I pull his underwear down and his cock springs free. I circle my tongue along the tip and pump it twice before wrapping my lips around him. His hands reach down to tangle his fingers in my hair, tugging it slightly. I take this cue to flatten my tongue and run it along the underside of his dick. I look up and see his eyes rolling in the back of his skull. I grin as I continue pumping and sucking, bobbing my head up and down.

His voice comes out as a harsh, husky whisper. “Riley, baby. I’m not going to last much longer.”

I quicken my pace, switching from long slow pumps to short fast ones. He grips my hair tighter and guides my rhythm, fucking my mouth. The tip of his cock hits the back of my throat, and I moan, causing him to moan in response.

“Riley… baby. Fuck… I’m gonna... come.”

I suck in my cheeks and pump harder and soon after he spills down my throat. I swallow and lap up his hot cum. He pulls me up his body, breathing hard, and presses a deep kiss to my lips.

“Holy shit. Would it be too much to ask for you to do that every night?”

I laugh. “Only for you, baby.”

He rolls us over and settles on top of me, fitting his long body between my thighs. “You couldn’t be more perfect if you tried. I love you. And I want to spend every day for the rest of my life showing you how much I love you. I know I already asked you this, but will you marry me?”

I smile and run my fingers through his hair pulling him closer to me. “Yes.”

#something domestic #nanny au #trr au #choices fanfic #riley brooks #liam rhys #nazariolahela fanfic

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