#i mean ‘job’ it’s not a real job he’s a landlord but u get my point skskd | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jaeminlore · 4 years ago

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Landslide | Mark Lee

summary: time makes you bolder. even children get older, and i’m getting older too.

words: 7.1k+

category: teacher!mark, single parent!reader, fem!presenting!reader, graham is the sweetest kid, mark is that teacher that lets kids pick earthworms during recess, friends to lovers, mark’s apartment is flooded so now he has to live in domestic bliss with his secret crush oh nooooo

warnings: talk of absent fathers

author note: it’s my birthday tomorrow so i wanted to give u all a present for supporting me for so long!! here’s to you <3 (cross-posted on /honklore)

Mark helps one of his kids press their palms onto the wall. When they release their palm, pink paint remains, making a sort of leaf to the tree branches painted onto the wall.

“Now write your name,” Mark advises another kid, whose orange paint had already dried.

“G-R-A-H-A-M,” the boy writes out with a large permanent marker. “Can I take a picture? For my mom?”

All the rest of the children begin to shout their agreements, also wanting to bring home a picture for their parents. Mark grabs his yellow Polaroid camera and takes a picture of each handprint.

He keeps all of the pictures in the chest pocket of his denim jacket. “Okay, guys— to the sink! Whoever has the cleanest hands gets to help me pass out snacks!”

“Why are we having snack time so early?” It’s Graham that asks, the little one always eager to be around Mark.

Mark ignores the boy’s paint covered hands poking at his clean jacket, and answers him as politely as he can. “Mr. Lee forgot his lesson plans today, so we’re going to watch a movie instead.”

“A movie?” Graham’s eyes widen.

“Yep,” Mark giggles. He crouches down to Graham’s level and whispers, “You wanna pick it?”

“Nature Nut!” Graham cheers almost immediately, causing Mark to wince.

Ah, yes, the wonderful little DVDs of a lonesome man teaching the watcher about bugs and weird types of slugs. Mark actually has the entire collection, and Graham happens to adore them just as much as Mark did when he was a kid.

“Alright, go wash your hands and I’ll get it started.”

It’s a little girl named Hana who cleans her hands the best, so she passes out organic fruit gummies to everyone while Mark puts in the DVD.

While they watch the video, Mark checks his text messages.

There’s one from Taeyong: “I’ve already got Haechan on the couch. Sorry, man. You can have the floor, but it’s not gonna be comfy :(“

Right. Mark forgot that Haechan lives in the same complex as him. His apartment is probably just as flooded as Mark’s is. Now if the landlord would just answer his calls and help him... maybe this situation wouldn’t be so stressful.

Mark didn’t forget his lesson plans; they’re just submerged in his bedroom with everything else Mark has left lying on his carpet. And maybe it’s his fault for not buying more storage bins, but a studio apartment can only hold so much stuff.

Serves Mark right for doing his lesson plans at home instead of at the school like most of his fellow kindergarten teachers.

He lets out a quiet sigh, careful not to disturb the children. He only has a short list of friends left to ask, and while he doesn’t think they’ll mind him asking, he really hates to put anyone in that position.

Besides, most of his friends have roommates or significant others and Mark doesn’t want to ruin their routine. He’d hate to intrude. And he could always sleep in his car for a few days, but the amount of stuff he had to pack because of the flooding has barred any chance of a good night’s sleep.

The video ends, and Mark gets the kids seated with coloring pages until their parents arrive.

One by one, he I.Ds the parents and tells the kids goodbye, helping them put on their coats and take home whatever library book they picked out earlier.

Finally, there’s only one kid left, and Mark is a bit embarrassed of his hyper-awareness to Graham. It’s not even his fault, really. Graham just has a beautiful mom, who happens to be Mark’s beautiful friend, and sometimes Mark gets eager to see you during pickup time.

Whatever. It’s no big deal.

The kindergartener already has his coat on. His curly brown hair is almost unruly as he continues to work on his coloring sheet.

Mark pulls at the hem of his sage sweater sleeves and wonders if his hair looks okay. Maybe he should invest in a little desk mirror; or maybe that’s vain.

“Hey, Mark! Sorry I’m late!” You rush in, holding on to your leather messenger bag. You fix your glasses before they fall off the bridge of your nose, and Mark is so focused on the movement that he almost forgets about your child.

Until said child is scolding his mother. “Mom! You have to call him Mr. Lee! It’s rude to call him Mark!”

“Your mom is an adult,” Mark reminds Graham (as soon as he finds his voice.) “Since she isn’t a student, it’s okay for her to call me Mark.”

Graham pinches his lips together, and then shrugs. “Fine. Mom, we watched Nature Nut today.” He runs up to you and wraps his arm around your middle. “Can we go to the park and look for slugs?”

“Sure,” you giggle. “But we need to get home soon, okay, Bud? I have to make dinner and then we have to clean up the mess we made last night.”

Graham turns to Mark and smiles naughtily, like the trickster he often is. “Mom said I could tear up her papers last night. She said it’s There-pee.”

“Ther-a-py,” you emphasize for the five-year-old.

Mark studies your face, and he can tell that you seem a little more stressed than usual. “Therapy, huh?”

You smile sheepishly. “Well, when your son catches you tearing up old love notes, you have to let him in on the fun, right?”

“You are a team,” Mark acknowledges. He wants to ask more; wants to dig into your heart and extract whatever is hurting you, but your son is standing between the two of you, waiting for him to say goodbye. Mark clears his throat and picks at his sweater again. “Anyways, uh, text me tonight? Let me know you two got home safe. And, I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you breathe. You smile at him and then take Graham’s hand. “Thanks, Mark. I’ll text you.”

Mark spends the night at a motel down the road. He texts a few of his friends and hopes for good news in the morning, or at least a confirmation from his landlord.

When you text him, a little selfie of you and Graham, holding up what looks like microwaved s’mores, his heart grows fond, and he forgets about his own problems for a moment.

Life has never been very easy for you. From the get-go, you have always been destined to fail, growing up with an absent father and an overworked mother. With a dead-end dream like yours (writing, of all things), it’s no wonder you clung to what little breaths of freedom you had.

He was handsome and bold, with a carefree smile and brown eyes that mirrored the sun. The lead singer of a band, with a voice like chimes. And you fell just as hard as one of your many protagonists. Perhaps the mistake always lay in the fact that you put too much fantasy into reality. You have always romanticized the littlest things, and that comes back to bite you more often than not.

You never expected one: to get pregnant your senior year of high school, and two: have to go through it alone.

Of course, most people you come to love leave eventually. It’s something you have always remembered; something that sticks in the back of your brain like gum to the bottom of your child’s Spider-man skechers.

Graham is the only constant in your life. Though you’ve been blessed with a decent job editing for a webazine company, and you can work from home more often than not, Graham is the real thing that keeps you alive.

He’s the most precious boy, with brown curls and big brown eyes. He favors his father, and though that should deter you, it reminds you of innocent days, and it gives a new meaning to brown eyes. Graham is not his father, and he never was.

Graham certainly got his love of learning from you. Though he likes science more than writing, you adore how eager he is to always get to school. It helps that Mark is his teacher.

Mark’s been your friend since freshman year of highschool, when the two of you both took the same creative writing class the local university offered. Though the two of you had differing end goals, you often studied together and encouraged each other. He was there when you found out you were pregnant, and he was there when you found out you’d be raising your child alone.

Now life comes full circle, and you see him twice a day. You could go out on a limb and say he brightens up most mornings, but you would still give that slot to your son.

Mark is standing at the doorway now, greeting all of his students and helping them take off their book bags and coats. He’s wearing monochrome today: red pants, a red sweater, and red shoes.

Graham lights up almost immediately, and you are thankful today that you decided to dress Graham in his red t-shirt. “Mom! We match!”

“I know,” you grin, squeezing his hand.

Mark glances at Graham, and then you. His cheeks showcase that same pink hue they always do, and while it should clash with his red garments, it doesn’t. “Hey, Mark.”

“Hey,” he grins, cheeks full at the sight of you two.

Graham spreads his arms and waits for Mark to help him take off his jacket. “Do you see that we match, Mr. Lee?”

“Yo, that’s awesome, Little Man!” Mark gives Graham a fist bump that seems to appease him, and you wait for Graham to run to his friends before addressing Mark.

“How have you been?”

Mark sighs. He brushes his hair away from his eyes. “Okay. My- uh- my studio apartment flooded so I’m staying at a motel until my landlord can get me estimates on when I can come back home.”

“That sucks,” you frown. “You know, if you need a place to stay, I have a pullout couch in my office. And obviously, Graham wouldn’t mind.”

Mark pales. “Are you serious? I didn’t mean to suggest anything, Like I know you work from home and you need your office.”

“And you’ll be at school until three,” you say. “I’ll work then. C’mon, Mark. I don’t like knowing one of my friends has no place to stay.”

Mark bites his bottom lip and scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll drive over after I check out of the motel.”

“Great!” You smile. “I’ll order pizza.”

"Graham, clean your room," you say, struggling to push your desk against your office wall. "We're going to have a guest for a few weeks."

"Mom," Graham whines, "They aren't going to look in my room."

You begin to take the cushions out of the spare couch to start setting up the pull-out bed. "Mr. Lee is coming over, Graham. Don't you want to show him your collections?"

Graham's brown eyes grow wide. "Mr. Lee? You didn't tell me he was coming!"

"He's going to be staying with us for a little bit, okay? So I need you to be on your best behavior."

“Can I show him my worms?” Graham asks, alluding to the compost bin in the small backyard of your townhouse.

“Yes,” you say, thankful that he isn’t putting up much of a fight toward cleaning. You’re also thankful he isn’t asking any questions, as Graham always seems to have a few at the top of his tongue.

Graham cleans up his room quickly. You know for a fact that he’s just shoved all of his toys under his bed, but it’s enough until the weekend, when you’ll have more time to help him organize.

The little guy hoards rocks like no one’s business. You curse the day Mark decided to teach the kids about geodes.

“Wanna help me make up Mr. Lee’s room?” You half-yell, while grabbing spare bedding out of your linen closet.

Graham’s little footsteps are heard before he answers, and soon he’s at your hip with a quick, “He can have my Frozen pillowcase!”

You hesitate to tell Graham that his Frozen pillowcase is currently on one of your pillows, and you can’t give your guest a dirty pillowcase. “That one is in the wash, Buddy. Why don’t we give him your Spider-Man one?”

“So he matches my pajamas!” Graham is easily pleased, and he even takes one of his stuffed bears to add to Mark’s made-up bed. (“So he doesn’t get scared at night.”)

By the time the pizza arrives, Mark is just behind, so you keep Graham busy with a slice of cheese and a glass of diet pepsi (only half of a can, and only because it’s a special occasion) while the two of you bring in Mark’s stuff.

He surprisingly didn’t bring much, and when you ask about it, he grimaces. “My studio is pretty small so a lot of my stuff was on the ground and got mildewed. Other stuff was in bins so I just left it there. I only need clothes and my lesson plans, anyway.”

“Well, here’s the desk and bed. It’s not much, but there’s a lock on the door in case Graham ever gets too inquisitive — bless him — and curtains so the stupidly bright sun won’t wake you too early.”

“Those both sound like personal experiences, Y/n,” Mark teases. He takes off his jacket and throws it on the bed. “Yo! Spider-Man?”

“Graham picked it out,” you say. “He also relinquished one of his bears to keep you safe in the middle of the night. His words, not mine.”

“He’s so cute,” Mark mentions offhandedly. The fondness in his tone takes you back a bit. Not because the phrase isn’t true, it’s just that most people find your son annoying before they find him endearing. The change of tone is nice.

“He is,” you say. “And he’s dying to show you his room after we eat dinner.”

Mark gives you that same lopsided smile he often had in high school. Part of your brain shifts to his personal life, and you wonder why Mark himself isn’t in a romantic relationship. Not that he has to be, but the both of you are getting older, and Mark has always been one to express a fondness for having his own family one day. Maybe he just hasn’t found the right person.

It isn’t until Graham is peacefully in bed — after a very chaotic reading of Goodnight Moon by yours truly, and an argument that Mr. Lee cannot, in fact, sleep in the same room as him — that you actually have a chance to show Mark around the house.

“Here’s the guest bathroom. Graham almost always uses the bathroom in my room because he likes looking at the big tub. He will beg you to play with him, but if you’re busy don’t feel guilty telling him no. He knows what no means and he’s good about playing by himself.”

Mark giggles. “Okay. I don’t mind playing with him, though.“

You show him around the kitchen, where you left little spaces for him in the pantry. You show him the garbage bags and the T.V. settings and the list of compostable ingredients. “And also, please come and go as you please. Like, I completely understand that you’re here temporarily and you aren’t a babysitter or anything like that. I don’t expect you to be in charge of Graham any time outside of school.”

Mark blinks. “But if you ever need time away, you can ask me. I don’t mind babysitting.”

“I know,” you smile. “But Graham is my kid. I don’t need time away from him.”

You’re lying. Mark knows it. You’ve been in this single parenting thing for five years and you aren’t about to reach out for help now.

“Anyways, if you have any questions just ring me or ask me,” you say. “I’ve got to get to bed. Goodnight.”

“Thanks, Y/n.”

Mark thinks it’s sweet the way Graham insists on making his own breakfast.

You’re already up when Mark gets out of his (temporary) bedroom with his clothes tucked under his arm. You’re busy arguing with Graham. “You can’t fry your own omelette for the last time.”

Mark quirks an eyebrow at your exasperated face. You look stressed beyond belief, even though the day has just begun.

Mark tosses his clothes back in his room and walks into the kitchen. “Hey, Graham! Do you want to show me your rock collection?”

Graham spins on his sock-clad heels, eyes bright at the thought of seeing his teacher. “Mr. Lee! Yes! Let’s go!”

He grabs Mark’s hand with ease, leaving you room to finish making breakfast.

Graham’s room is fairly simple. The small wooden bed is covered in a green quilt, and beneath that, frozen-printed sheets that certainly don’t match. He has a tub of stuffed animals shoved against a small dresser.

Mark gets distracted by the framed picture on top of the dresser. It’s a picture of you and Graham’s father, a few months before you got pregnant. He’s smiling, and you’re holding up a peace sign. It makes Mark feel a bit sad, knowing that Graham’s dad never stayed around to see how wonderful he turned out to be. Then again, a lot of people in your life left as soon as they found out. In high school, no one wants to be friends with a teenage mother.

Mark reckons that if he had a family like this, he’d never take them for granted.

Graham pulls out a gemstone. It’s a murky green one that Mark has let him take home from class. “Do you remember this, Mr. Lee?”

Mark grins. “Yeah, bud. Thanks for keeping it so safe for me.”

Graham beams. He grabs Mark’s hand and pulls him towards his dresser. “Can we match? I want to look like you.”

Mark feels his heart swell. He wants to smother the young boy in affection, but he doesn’t want to cross a line. He’s your friend, sure, but he’s also Graham’s teacher. He can’t coddle Graham more than the other children. He already has a godchild to coddle. “I’m wearing yellow today. Do you have any yellow clothes?”

“Let’s look!” Graham yanks open one of the drawers and begins pulling out the articles of clothing one by one. “No, no, no... Here!” He finds a pair of yellow overalls, folded amongst the mess he made. “I’ll wear these!”

“Let’s clean up first, okay?” Mark grabs the overalls. “So it’s clean when you come home from school.”

Graham, looking like the last thing he’d ever want to do is disappoint Mark, begins to pick up each shirt with obvious intent. He tries to fold them, and does a somewhat decent job, so much so that Mark leaves it, thinking you’ll find it endearing rather than annoying.

He really loves that about you. He likes your patience with Graham. You’re so young, and in reality, he squashed so many early dreams of yours. No matter your lot in life, you never blamed your child. Mark thinks that’s why Graham is so open, so adaptable, so endearing.

He helps Graham get dressed and leaves him in his room so that he, himself, can get ready.

When he emerges from his shower, hair wet and clothed in yellow, he smells something amazing.

He doesn’t want to intrude on your morning with Graham. He already feels too indebted to you already.

“Have an omelet,” you say. Wisps of hair cover your face. You place a plate down in front of him.

Graham is already eating his omelet, slowly, while flipping through a picture book. He sounds out words he recognizes, but stays silent the rest of the time.

Mark takes out his phone and scrolls through his instagram feed just as your own phone begins to ring.

“Shit,” you curse, and then immediately apologize to Graham. You press the red button and tap anxiously on the tabletop.

“Everything okay?” Mark asks.

You run your hands over your hair and let them rest on the back of your neck. “Yeah is just—“

The phone rings again, and this time you pick it up. “What do you want? ... Why would you tell me that? ... Why should I care? ... Please stop contacting me, okay? Goodbye.”

You slam the phone down and leave the room. Mark watches you disappear down the hallway, sniffling.

“Mommy is upset,” Graham says. He looks at Mark, lip quivering. “At me?”

“No, Buddy! Of course not!” Mark reaches over the table to ruffle Graham’s curls. “Never at you.”

“When we tore up paper, she was crying.” Graham fiddles with his book page.

Mark wonders why your ex’s actions are being brought up five years later. Last he heard, you had fully healed from the breakup long before Graham’s first birthday. But now he’s about to be six, and you're suddenly upset?

He’ll have to ask you about it soon.

“Are you ready to go to school, Buddy?”

“Yeah!”

You cradle your face in your hands and try to ease the tears back in. You’ll never get this article proofread and sent if you can’t see the keys.

The door opens, and Graham runs in just in time for you to finish wiping your eyes. “Hey, kiddo! How was school?”

“Mr. Lee let us finger paint!” Graham holds up his palm, covered in dried paint, and grins brightly. “Can I have gogurt?”

“Yeah bud. Why don’t you put something on the T.V.? You can have your snack in the living room today.”

“Yes!” Graham takes blueberry gogurt out of the fridge and — after getting you to tear it open — runs into the living room. Sneakers and backpack still on.

Mark trails behind, clutching a messenger bag to his chest. “What’s going on?”

You sigh and close the laptop. The manuscript will have to wait. “Ben called. About a week ago. His girlfriend is pregnant. Called me to tell me he wasn’t going to leave her— like that would heal what he did to me. Then he called this morning to tell me they’re engaged.” You burst into tears then, and you feel so pathetic for doing this in front of your old schoolmate, that you hide your face behind your palms and allow your shoulders to shake. “Why weren’t we enough? Why wasn’t I enough?”

Mark scoots one of the chairs in front of you and sits, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Hey. Look at me.” With gentle hands, he grabs your wrists and pulls them away from your face. “It is not your fault he left.”

“But it has to be me in some way,” you retort. “He must not have loved me. Something, because now he’s going to raise her child after he left mine. Graham deserves a dad.”

Mark places his forehead against yours. The two of you used to do it all the time in school, mostly with immature giggles in the spaces between, but now it’s heavy with intention. “Graham has not felt even a little bit unloved in your care. You are all he needs, okay? You’re amazing.”

You nod, head still pressed to Mark’s. “Yeah. Okay. Sorry for getting too emotional, there.”

“Be as emotional as you want,” Mark says. “I’ll be here to balance you out.”

Your heart stutters at the words, like maybe they mean something more than he’s letting on. Of course it’s stupid to think Mark Lee would ever even consider you, but just the knowledge that he cares makes your soul feel a little lighter.

“I’m a mess,” you stutter, bringing your fist up to wipe at your nose.

“Nah,” Mark grins. He runs the pad of his thumb across your cheek and grins. “You’re alright.”

“It’s snowing!” Graham wakes Mark up by jumping on his chest.

Mark sucks in a breath, winded at the sudden weight, and grabs the boy, lifting him off of his chest and onto the mattress. “Hey, Buddy. Let’s not jump on sleeping people, okay?”

“Okay,” Graham says. He’s already lost interest in Mark, now crawling off of the bed to open the blinds. “Come look at the snow!”

“I see!” Mark rubs his tired eyes and checks his watch. “We might have a snow day, Graham.”

“Yes!” Graham pumps his fist into the air. “Let’s go tell mom!”

You’re sitting on your bed, chewing on a red licorice rope and flipping through a fashion magazine. You look up when Mark and Graham enter.

Mark likes seeing you like this: the domesticity of you in the morning, lazy and true. His chest sparks when he thinks this may be one of the only moments he can capture you like this, so he intends to commit the sight to memory.

“Did I hear snow day?” You grin at Mark, childlike wit in your own eyes — the same as your son’s.

“Looks like it.” Mark rolls up the sleeves of the sweater he slept in. “You want pancakes? I make some mean chocolate chip pancakes.”

You shift your gaze away from his arms and clear your throat. “Uh, yeah. Just let me get dressed and I’ll help—“

“No need,” Mark insists. “Enjoy your quiet time. Graham and I will make the most delicious pancakes you’ve ever tasted.”

“With lots of chocolate chips!” Graham shouts.

You give him a pointed look. “But not too many.”

Graham huffs. “But not too many,” he repeats.

Momentary splashes sound from your bathroom, followed by Graham screaming “It’s a dragon! Run for cover!”

Mark giggles from his place on the couch. He’s got mushroom-patterned socks on, and he’s tucked up into the cushions, nursing a can of Monster. “How does he still have so much energy?”

You sigh and pull your beanie down over your forehead. “You’d think a snow day would tire him out. Thanks for constantly carrying him up the hill, by the way. I know you’re a teacher, but sometimes I forget how good you are with kids.”

“I do have a godson,” Mark reminds you.

“But Mikey is a baby,” you say. You only know the baby’s name because of Mark’s constant snap stories about him.

“Most babies and kids want the same thing. Affection and attention.” Mark scoots over to the edge of the couch and pats the cushion.

You sit next to him. “I guess that’s true. You’re really good with Graham. He’s not this open to other adults.”

Mark is clearly blushing now; you can see his pink cheeks even in the light of the television. “He’s great in class, always helping the other kids.”

“He wants to impress you,” you say. You pop open a can of orange soda and take a sip. “He thinks you’re just the coolest guy.”

Mark laughs and shakes his head. “Didn’t you hear, Y/n? I’m handsome and cool.”

“Oh, of course,” you nudge his shin with our own sock-clad foot. “How could I forget? Mr. Ladies Man in high school.”

This makes Mark blush even harder, because he most certainly was not a ladies man in high school. In fact, he was a nerd in all senses of the word, part of the debate club with a few other boys. He had a few dates here and there, but nothing ever stuck.

“Shut up,” he mumbles. “My time is gonna come.”

“Hasn’t it already?” you ask before you can really process your own words. But of course he knows that he’s grown into his face, right?

Mark is positively handsome, eyes bright and lashes long. He’s so warm and comforting to you. He must be just as comforting to everyone else.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re handsome, Mark,” you say plainly.

“You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you say. “Why would I lie?”

Mark opens his mouth, perhaps to call you out. To tell you you’ve been too honest, but he’s interrupted by your son.

“Mom! I’m ready to get out now!”

“I should go,” you say, still looking at his eyes.

“Yeah,” he says. His sweater has small spots on the shoulders where snow has fallen and since melted. He shivers.

“You should take a shower. You’ll catch a cold.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

Haechan comes over the following Saturday night to hang out with Mark, and you’re surprised at how much he truly hasn’t changed since high school.

He’s still got infamously perfect eyebrows, and his voice is still high despite its blunt sarcasm. “Nice place.” He raises his brows as he looks around.

“Who are you?” Graham is sitting at the kitchen table, watching Minecraft playthroughs (kid-friendly ones you’ve watched through yourself) on your phone to entertain himself while you clean.

“I’m Haechan, Mark’s friend.”

“This is Mr. Lee’s friend from school,” you say, detailing your words so they’re easier for your son to digest.

Graham stares at him for a moment, not quite judging but not quite accepting either. “Okay. Do you want to see my rock collection?”

Haechan looks genuinely excited, and accepts before you can come up with an excuse for him. Graham tells Haechan to stay in the kitchen while he grabs all of his rocks.

“How have you been?” you ask the taller man. “Like, with the flooding and everything?”

“Well, I’m on a couch at Taeyong’s, which is good since he doesn’t charge rent. But that means I’m near Mikey, and that baby has some lungs.”

You laugh. “I remember when Graham was a baby. I was so young, and my mom told me it was my responsibility to wake up and take care of him whenever he cried in the middle of the night. I was so pissed at her for making me do that, but those were some of the best nights to bond with him.” You realize you’re rambling and shake your head. “Whatever. Baby screams are loud as hell.”

“You can say that again. I’ve been talking to my friend Johnny about taking his spare room and paying rent. I dunno how many more sleepless nights I can take.”

“Why would you need to pay rent if you’re just crashing?” You wipe down the kitchen table to keep yourself busy.

“Didn’t Mark tell you? Our landlord is in heaps of trouble because the pipes weren’t up to code and that’s why they busted. The damage is basically too expensive to fix, so we’ve got to find new places.”

You stop cleaning. “Mark didn’t tell me that.”

“Oh.” Haechan scratches his brow. “He probably didn’t want to worry you. He feels really bad that he’s stayed with you this long.”

“It’s only been a month or so,” you counter. “Besides, Mark’s a great housemate. He cleans and keeps Graham occupied. Plus, now I have someone to watch corny game shows with.”

Haechan grins. “Oh. Okay, I get it.”

“Get what?” Mark, finally out of the shower, steps into the kitchen and immediately tackles Haechan in an energized hug.

“Nothing!” Haechan’s voice cracks

You shoot Haechan a weird look, and change the subject. “Where are you guys going?”

“To play video games at Johnny’s.” Mark says, and the thrill in his voice makes you think of high school. Of the debate team bus rounding the corner. Of you standing there, waiting to congratulate him with a big hug and a frosty from Wendy’s.

You miss it. “Have fun, okay? I’m probably going to tuck in as soon as Graham does, so just let yourself in.”

“You’re leaving?” Graham comes in, and his arms are filled with smooth and rough stones and gems he’s both found by himself and bought at random general stores while traveling.

“Not before I see your rocks!” Haechan says with so much enthusiasm, you think he’s telling the truth.

Graham giggles and drops the rocks onto the ground. Of course, he wants your guest to sit on the floor and count rocks. You’re almost embarrassed.

“ ‘ Okay, Y/n?” Mark laughs at your expression. Then he places his arm on your shoulder, thumbs the skin of your upper arm.

And once again, it’s high school. It’s senior year graduation and Mark is the only one who congratulates you. It’s his comforting touch, him coming over in the middle of the night after you texted him a picture of your first sonogram. It’s that same comforting touch. That little “I’m here,” and it melts you on the inside, leaves you in the shell of an eighteen girl again. Scared, and worried, and a little less alone.

“Yeah,” you manage. “I’m okay.”

The television plays Cartoon Network reruns on a low hum. Mark is curled up in a blanket, nursing a bottle of water and thinking over Haechan’s words.

You’ve liked her since high school, dude.

Which is a complete lie. Seriously, Mark didn’t have a crush on you in high school. He would know if he had a crush on his best friend. You’ve been his friend since freshman year, and that’s all you’ve ever been.

Now in college, it was different. In college, Mark was alone in a dorm with Taeyong, and you were one of the only people from high school he stayed in contact with. In college, he would bring you your favorite snacks and drinks, and other things you would forget to buy because you were a part-time student and a full-time mom. In college, you would pull all-nighters with him, working on your exams while Graham was asleep, then using energy drinks to get through the next day.

Mark even remembers the time your mom caught the three of you fast asleep on your rug, with unopened monster cans and an empty milk bottle beside you.

Throughout your entire pregnancy he was warned not to stay friends with the pregnant girl — it’d be too much for him, he wouldn’t want to become the new father, and all kinds of other stuff people would mumble to him when you weren’t around.

But you never expected him to be anything other than your friend. You never asked him for the help he gave — though you thanked him always — and you never once assumed he’d take the role of Graham’s dad.

And now… now he finds himself wishing you would.

“Mr. Lee?” Graham creeps up without him even realizing.

Mark jumps, sets his water — and thoughts — aside. “Hey, Bud. It’s really late. What are you doing up?”

Graham sniffs, and Mark realizes that the boy is crying. “I had a nightmare.”

Mark holds out his arms before he can think, and lets the five-year-old crawl into his lap. He wraps them both in his blanket and turns the television up just a little more. “Was it scary?”

“You left.” Graham says, voice less watery, like he doesn’t know the weight of his words. He’s focused on the rerun of Adventure Time that’s playing. He’s not even remotely interested in his nightmare now, with his tears dried up, and his eyes drooping back towards slumber.

“I’m going to leave one day,” Mark says, because he thinks it’s important that Graham knows.

“You should stay with me and Mom,” Graham says. He yawns. “We like you so much!”

Mark’s heart stutters. He tries not to think about it.

When Graham’s bed is empty the next morning, you freak out. He’s always in his room in the morning. Even if he wakes up before you, he stays in and plays with his toys.

You’ve already got your phone out, and your mother’s number called, when you walk into the living room.

Relief floods your system. Mark and Graham are asleep on the couch, snuggled up serenely like they didn’t just cause you to have a premature heart attack.

You hang up before the call to your mom can go through and stand there, watching the two boys sleep. Graham has both his arms wrapped around Mark’s forearm. It’s such a sweet picture that you take out your phone and snap one.

The flash is on.

Mark scrunches his nose and winces. “What the–”

“Sorry!” You whisper. “You both looked so cute, I couldn’t help it.”

Mark smiles, still sleepy, and finally opens his eyes. He peers at you, copper brown under fluttering lashes and you’re almost intimidated into looking away. “He had a nightmare.”

“Oh?”

“About me leaving.”

“Oh.” You frown. “I’m really sorry about that. I keep telling him that you’re moving out soon, but I don’t think he fully understands.”

Graham stirs. You reach down and pick him up. Your knuckles brush across Mark’s warm, sweater-clad chest and you suddenly wish you could cuddle with him, too. You shake the thoughts away and focus on your drowsy son. “You’re staying at Grandma's for a few days, remember?”

Graham rubs his eyes and perks up. “And I’ll see her cat?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “But we’ve got to get you dressed because she’s coming in a few minutes.”

“Mark Lee!” Your mom’s voice embarrassingly rings through the apartment, and you realize Mark has taken it upon himself to open the door. “Y/n told me she had a temporary roommate but I never thought she would finally ask you!”

“Oh my gosh…” you mumble, buckling Graham’s overalls and hauling him up into your arms. “Mom! His apartment flooded so he’s staying here. Don’t be weird about it.”

“But he’s so handsome,” your mom coos. You’re concerned she might reach forward and pinch Mark’s already ruddy cheeks.

“Thanks,” Mark laughs. “But she’s right, I’m just squatting until I can find a new place.”

Your mom harrumphs. “Well, I don’t see why you can’t stay here forever. Y/n doesn’t even use that office room. And even if she did, the two of you could just share a room.”

“Mom!” You plunk Graham into her hands and grab his overnight bag. “You have to leave.”

“Did I say something wrong?” She sounds worried, but there’s an undisclosed mirth in her eyes that makes you think of your freshman year, when you did have a crush on Mark.

“You said everything wrong,” you say, kindly pushing her out. “Have a good time, Graham. I love you! As always, Mom, call if you need me to come get him.”

“Yeah, right!” She yells over her shoulder. Graham is already giggling, so you close the door with confidence.

You turn back to your roommate. “I’m sorry about that, Mark.”

“It’s fine.” He smiles, but it’s reserved. “But speaking of me finding a place… I know Haechan told you that I can’t go back to my own apartment. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s okay,” you say. You want to say “You can stay here as long as you want, and long as you’ll let me keep you,” but that would reveal too much, and you don’t want to lose the one good friend you have.

“And I was thinking I should move out soon anyway.” Mark pulls his sweater sleeves until they cover his hands. He’s hiding. He’s shielding himself the same way he did in junior year, when he got turned down by his crush to go to the prom. “I don’t think it’s good for Graham to get this attached to me if I’m just going to leave.”

“Oh,” Your sleeves are too short, but you want to shield yourself too. “Yeah, that’s… that’s probably a good idea.”

Mark stands there for a beat, like he’s waiting for you to say something more. Like he hasn’t just taken your heart and pushed it aside. Like this hurts a lot less than it actually does.

But any word out of your mouth would be tearful. It would be honest. It would ruin everything. “I’m going to go on a run.”

There’s a cricket outside that won’t stop chirping against your window. You blame it for your insomnia, choosing to ignore the anxiety of eventually losing Mark. It feels so horribly childish, since you’ll see him when you drop Graham off at school. And you’ll see him whenever the two of you go out for coffee on weekends.

But you won’t see him in the kitchen, reaching for the pancake mix so his shirt rises up and you can see the dimples in his back. You won’t see him humming along to the radio while he works on his lesson plans. You won’t feel his warmth when the two of you stay awake, nursing spiked lemonade and giggling at the commentary videos you find on YouTube.

He’ll just be Mark again. He won’t be home anymore.

Startled by the realization, you get out of your covers and rush to your door.

It opens before you can even reach for the doorknob, and there’s Mark in his pajamas, biting his lip and avoiding your eyes.

“I don’t want you to leave,” you say.

Mark confesses, “I love you.”

You open your arms and he dives in, face pressed into the space where your neck meets your shoulder. Warmth envelopes you and the scent of pine fills your nose.

Mark is timeless. Youthful glory and childish pride. He’s a pinch on the side and a push on the swings. Like a rock that actually skips on the first try. Like shoes that you can slip on when they’re still tied. And he’s here, in your arms, squeezing you like you’re something valuable enough to lose. He’s confessing love like you aren’t the worst possible candidate for his heart.

“I can’t offer you much,” you start, but Mark bumps his forehead against yours, boyish and playful — football fields and bright red lockers and secret notes on bathroom walls.

“I’ve known you for years, Y/n,” Mark’s voice is a low rumble. Copper eyes blinking at you like you’re something to second glance at. “I know what I’m getting into. I want you. I want Graham. I want everything this is, and everything we’ve been for the past month. I don’t want this to end.”

You close your eyes, because his are too honest. He’s open and vulnerable and gentle — a child on the first day of school, ready to make friends. You take a deep breath, try to remember what you were like on your first day. Rosy cheeks and shy glances. Knobby knees and a trusting heart. You reach out for whoever you once were — the Y/n with a heart open and willing to be loved. “I don’t want this to end either. I’m in love with you, Mark.”

His grin lights up your world in its entirety. Gold flecks in onyx black disappear as he smiles, too thrilled to keep his eyes open. And when he kisses you, warm lips against cold ones, you feel like a puzzle has just slotted into place.

It would only make sense that you would grow to love the boy you grew up with.

#Nct fluff #nct fanfiction #Nct angst #Nct scenarios #mark lee fluff #mark lee imagines #mark lee angst #mark lee fanfic #mark lee scenarios #mark lee x reader #nct x reader #destwrites

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moccahobi · 4 years ago

Text

Dear Diary [Jimin x Reader]

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff

Rating: E for everyone

Summery: You’re moving! Finally. Getting into a masters program in South Korea meant soooo much to you and it also offered the perfect opportunity to move in with your favorite pen pal and high school friend from an exchange: Park Jimin. A sweet and caring squirrel hybrid.

Word Count: 6.3k words

Genre: Fluff, Hybrid AU, Roommates AU, Friends to Lovers

A/N: OMGGGG. Formatting this was soooo annoying. Never again am I going to do so many dividers. It was not it chief. Lolol. I love this fic though! It is part of a collab for hybrids (check out the masterlist here) you should totally check them out! All the authors here are soooo amazing and their works are amazing in this too! Also! Thank you to @jung-hoseok-s-airplane and @spicykoreantatertots the two amazing people who betaed this fic for me! They helped soooo much!

Unlocking the door to your shabby apartment, you were struck by how empty it looked. It was really more of a ghost of your apartment at this point. You’d been slowly shipping your stuff over to South Korea for almost a month (really, as soon as you were accepted to Seoul University’s master program and Jimin agreed to be your roommate) and by now, all you had to take with you on your flight tomorrow was a small day bag with your necessities and a suitcase full of the clothes you’d worn this week. Your empty apartment really made the move feel real (something your job’s kind send off party hadn’t done). This move was real.

You had gotten accepted into your dream program across the world.

Tomorrow afternoon you’ll be leaving this area and moving in with Jimin.

You giggled and sat on your couch with a dazed smile stuck on your face. It wasn’t really your couch anymore was it? Your landlord was keeping all the furniture. Not that you really cared. How would you have possibly carted your large furniture across the world anyways?

After almost four years of living here though… you’d be leaving behind many memories stored in this apartment. Like when one of your friends spent the night here after an evening of clubbing and ended up vomiting all over the rug you’d placed in the living space. He promised to pay for a deep cleaning the next day, which you took him up on… but then he just rented a steam cleaner. He was a funny person like that. Although… it was much less expensive than a cleaning service probably was. Looking back, you laughed at how worried you were of him finding one of your many journals stored on your bookshelf, so worried that you hid them under your bed. Not that it really mattered. He was a sweet friend and your journals just looked like notebooks.

Had you packed them? After shoving them under your bed all that time ago, you didn’t even think about looking back on them. Maybe if you hadn’t been reminiscing, you would’ve forgotten them here and lost them forever. Surely your landlord would just throw them away without a second thought.

You’d been sleeping on an empty mattress and a small pillow for three days now, your comforter and sheets already in Korea with Jimin. You shuddered against your cold floor as you knelt down on the cold hard floor to grab your almost forgotten journals. With them in hand, you settled onto your pillow-less couch and carefully opened up the last journal you’d written. It was from the study abroad you did in South Korea in your last year of high school. Without that study abroad, you’d never have met Jimin and you most definitely wouldn’t be moving across the world for your masters program.

You wouldn’t want to do anything else though. Jimin was probably your best friend and this program was the opportunity of a lifetime. With a nostalgic smile on your face, you started to read.

Dear diary,

Something crazy happened today! Ahhh! I was so shocked when Jimin, THE social butterfly of my school, came up and started talking to me. He’s a hybrid of some sort, not that it matters to me. He’s got a black bowl cut too… it looks funny with his furry pointed ears sticking out of it. Anyways, the conversation was a little stunted at first… I barely knew Korean and Jimin barely knew English but somehow we had a really good conversation. I am honestly so shocked. Here I thought that as an exchange student in South Korea, I’d just talk to other exchange students and mumble a few words to other students. I mean… I know Korean some but not much. It was… AHHH! I had so fun talking to Jimin. He’s so sweet and kind. I even added him on Kakao. He’s my first non-exchange family member on my Kakao. I can’t wait to get to know him more.

Dear diary,

Jimin and I talk almost daily! Mostly through text because we don’t see each other much during school but that’s ok! He is in a lot more advanced classes than I but I think we are planning on meeting up for lunch this Wednesday. He even asked if I wanted to join him at the dance club but I said no… I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of my only friend. Given, Jimin is so friendly and sweet that I bet he’d just laugh and try to teach me but still. Besides, he apparently competes. That’s what I’d heard from others at school at least. I don’t want to distract him from preparing for competitions.

Dear diary,

I went to a karaoke booth with Jimin and some of his friends. It was so fun! Jimin’s friends were a little shy to talk to me but they opened up as we started to sing more. I didn’t expect them to be such weebs like me! Lol. They all joined in to sing the current theme song of One Piece. It was soo funny. The mic didn’t know who to focus on and we got such a baddddd score. Jisoo was sooo funny while singing (Jisoo is a sweet cat hybrid). Jimin is surprisingly a great singer though! I was surprised. Is there anything he is possibly bad at? I don’t know.

After karaoke, he and I went to a park and just chilled. Instead of sitting at a bench, Jimin dragged me off to a small clearing and sat on a low tree branch. It was the first time I really thought of him as a hybrid because… like… sitting on that tree with his tail swaying slowly as he ate ice cream… I don’t know. It was nice to just be with him there but still. It didn’t help that he kept batting at me with his tail until I joined him on the branch. I could have sworn the branch shook as I joined! We probably both almost died because of that branch broke, we would have fallen! I am exaggerating… but still.

You were such an extra kid at times. A laugh left you as you thought back on that afternoon spent talking while chilling on the tree branch. Now you knew there was no way you would have died even if the branch fell. The worst thing that would have happened would have been a broken bone (although with Jimin’s quick reflexes and hearing, he might have noticed the branch start to splinter before it even became an emergency for both of you).

Looking over at the clock, you noted that it was almost nine at night. Jimin would wake up soon and start his last day roommate-less. You chuckled thinking about what he might be doing right now. Maybe he’d be meticulously rolling over his couch so that his hair wasn’t all over it when you first sat down, or he was washing all the blankets to make sure they were extra soft (in reality, he was probably hitting snooze for the 100th time that morning). Either way, he was probably just as excited to see you again as you were. Sure you’d texted each other almost daily but it wasn’t the same. You both became super busy and the time zone difference made it hard to video chat often.

Life happened and no amount of texting or video chatting seemed to make up for that.

For all you knew, Jimin looked so different from what you remember that when you arrive at the airport and look for him holding the “Welcome Y/n” sign he made, you will only be able to recognize him by the sign (and his tail… unless he dyed the dark brown tail to be some other color).

Maybe you’d changed too. Your hair and style have undoubtedly changed… but would Jimin notice changes other than that? Maybe your scent had changed. You knew that hybrids had more sensitive noses and often identified people by scent (you learned that the hard way by trying to play hide and seek in the dark with Jimin and some of his friends at a party… never again). During your exchange, Jimin claimed you smelled like blossoms (from how you’d read about smells in the past, you knew there was more to one’s smell than just one thing but you didn’t push Jimin for more). Maybe you’d ask Jimin again sometime.

A vibration from your phone took you out of your thoughts and when you checked the notification, you chuckled. It was as if Jimin knew that you were thinking about him.

Jimi: I built your bedframe~

Jimi: When your sheets arrive today I will make your bed. That way you don’t have to worry about all that after such a long flight.

Jimi: Can’t wait to see u again!

You: Thank you

You: I am excited to see you soon too!

Looking down at your worn journals and gently rubbing their spines, you decided you wanted to have a journal for this journey too. Given your track record of starting and dropping journals, you’d probably only keep at it for a month or so but could still be very nice. There was one simple issue with your plan though, you didn’t have a notebook to write in… or a pen. Those things were in Korea by now.

You’d have to leave the house to get that stuff… or you could just buy it at the airport tomorrow. The airport only sold overpriced stuff though… plus it would be cool to start writing now.

With that thought, you got up, put your shoes on, grabbed your wallet and keys, and walked to the closest general store. After little deliberation, you bought a slender black dotted notebook and gel pens. Excitement bubbled up inside you as you sat on your couch again, pen poised to write. This would be fun.

Dear diary,

I am moving tomorrow.

I am moving halfway across the world to live with Jimin, a squirrel hybrid and my best friend. I was accepted into my dream masters program and will be living in South Korea on a student visa. I am so excited to see Jimin again. Has he changed much or is he still the same old sweet guy who hid in trees to think and talks to strangers? I’ll know soon.

Well… it won’t be that soon. I have to fly to South Korea first.

It’ll be a long flight. I’ll arrive in Seoul tomorrow at 5pm and Jimin will take me out to dinner with some of his friends before we just relax at our shared apartment. Almost all of my stuff is already in the apartment. I’ve been shipping them across for a little over a month or so now.

I am so excited.

I should probably eat something and go to bed though. Tomorrow will be long and full of tedious airport procedures… yay! Note the sarcasm.

Good night.

Let’s see if I use you.

Dear diary,

It is almost time to board. I am so excited. When I was packing, I thought that I would be more anxious about the move and make a little sad about leaving my friends and family behind, but I don’t feel anxious or sad. Ok… I am a little sad. But my excitement outweighs my sadness. I’ll be leaving some friends behind but I will be making so many more! And I’ll finally get to see Jimin again as well.

Oh.

My flight is about to board. I guess I will talk to you later then!

You were exhausted by the time you finally sat down in your seat, ready to see Jimin again and sleep in a made bed. The flight would be a long slog full of you getting up to use the bathroom, walking down the isles just to move, reading a book because it was one of the few forms of entertainment you had, and drinking lots of water. It was exhausting (somehow), yet time moved and eventually you found yourself staring out at Korea’s landscape.

The city was alive and so pretty. For a moment you forgot that you were tired. Given the second you got up, you remembered it all again. Your legs felt sore and tired from sitting in one spot for so long and your eyelids were almost sheets of lead by now. As you waited for the people in front of you to leave the plane, you turned your phone back on (you’d bought a cellular plan last week for when you would be in Korea). As soon as it connected to your new plan, you were bombarded with excited messages from Jimin that he’d sent all through his day. From photos of food he’d cooked for your first dinner together to the ‘Welcome to Korea Y/n’ poster he made for you. It made you smile and as you neared where he said he would be waiting for you, you grew even more excited once again.

Would you get along with his friends?

Would your schedules match?

Jimin came into view before you could keep thinking, his “Welcome to Korea Y/n” sign much bigger and grander than you imagined. There were two hybrids flanking either side of him, one you recognized as Jisoo from high school and the other you’d never met before. Even from the six or so meter distance you were at right now, you could see Jimin’s tail quiver excitedly. You sped up. Six meters couldn’t end soon enough. Jimin handed the poster to one of his friends and engulfed you in a suffocating hug, his warmth flooding you. Almost immediately, you felt a sense of home in Jimin’s arms, your bodies melding together nicely and a sense of calm settling over you. You didn’t want to let go. It wasn’t until one of his friends coughed awkwardly that Jimin released you and held you at arms length while giving you a once over.

He looked good.

Not that you expected much else from the dancer. Numberless days spent in the studio sculpted his body better than any artist you knew or studied could have done. Miraculously enough he’d somehow developed a sense of style. You especially loved his colorblocked button up shirt that seemed to shine in the dingy airport.

“Nice to smell you again, Y/n-ah.” Jimin said, a shit-eating grin splitting his sweet smile as he winked at you.

A loud snort left one of Jimin’s friends, who appeared to be a pig hybrid. A cute pig hybrid at that. A shy blush bloomed across his handsome and plump face before he asked to take your suitcase (something you happily let him take). Jimin chittered quietly next to you as you quickly introduced yourself to his friends (the pig hybrid’s name Minju and the other, a mutual high school friend, Jisoo). The four of you started to leave the airport.

“I wouldn’t have invited Jisoo and Minju to come and pick you up but I don’t have a car… I figured that you’d rather not lug all your stuff around the subway.”

“Out of all three of us – four of us I guess– I am the only one with a car.” Jisoo injected happily, twirling his keys around one of his slender fingers.

You laughed and nodded. Content to just listen to the three of them banter and talk as you were led to Jisoo’s car. They seemed content to embarrass each other by telling you about things they’ve done in the past that varied in severity from mistakes while dancing to drunken nights spent together. At one point, you even added in a story of Jimin and Jisoo fighting with sparklers, getting burned, and then burning all the sparklers as “revenge”. The banter didn’t stop until the car stopped and by then you’d felt as if you had spent more than just one year and a car ride with them.

“Now, Y/n-ssi, I know that you and Jimin talked about going back to his place and having a relaxing night–”

“We did and I’m excited to eat the food Jimin made. If it’s edible.” You added, smiling as Jisoo laughed and Jimin shouted.

“Yes. Well, Jimin had to make a deal with me to get me as a chauffeur.”

“It was a damn rotten deal.”

Minju laughed, “Whatever you say Chim. He’s still gotta honor it. So we are getting some food.”

A large and towering building faced you from outside the car and if the sign was anything to go by, it was more than just a restaurant. It was a karaoke place. A smile grew on your face as you looked up at it. Tonight would be fun… even if you were tired.

Dear diary,

Tonight was amazing. Sure I’d hoped to just settle into Jimin’s and my apartment and go to bed early after eating… but instead Jimin treated Minju, Jisoo, and I to dinner at a karaoke place. I’d have to look but it might have been the same place Jimin, Jisoo, some of Jimin’s friends, and I went to in high school. Not that it matters too much. We had so much fun! By the end of the night I even had Jisoo’s and Minju’s phone number too. Hopefully we can all be friends.

Jimin has changed in ways I hadn’t noticed when we talked online. He seems to have picked up this habit of chittering. I want to try to figure out if there is something that causes him to chitter or if it just happens. Near the end of the night I tried paying attention to that but it was hard. Almost always when he started chittering, I was doing something. It’s good to be around him again. I missed him more than I realized.

Dear Diary,

I start classes tomorrow! Yay!!! I also have a job interview tomorrow… which is less exciting. I knew that I would need a job and that I would have to wait until I had officially signed the lease (which happened literally the day after I moved in), but it was still so much work! Jimin has been helping me through which has been suuuuper helpful. After he comes home from the studio and eats– I have been cooking for him since he’s been busier than me– he’s been helping me modify and send in my resumes to places. It’s nice. We sit next to each other on the couch and just… put our heads together to get it done.

After finishing that, he and I watched a movie after (this has happened two times!). We’ll cuddle together and watch some movie Jimin’s decided I need to watch. He’s a good cuddle buddy. I’ve enjoyed it. Well… wish me luck on my job!

“You’re back? That was fast! I barely had time to finish making dinner!” Jimin called out as you entered, tired from a long week (more like a long month or two by now) of classes and work but nonetheless happy to be home with Jimin.

Throwing your bag on the closest chair, you went to him and gave him a tight side hug. Almost immediately, you felt some of your built up stress leave you. He was magical like that. You could be having a horrible day and just the sight of your best friend would make it all so much better. The nights where you would sit on the couch together and read or watch tv or just talk were your favorites. Jimin’s head would slowly drift into your lap and you would start to play with his soft hair and ears, your eyes trailing his beautiful face. Tonight would probably be one of those nights if you had any say in his evening plans.

Jimin’s tail quivered and tickled your nose.

“I am sorry you had such a rough day, Y/n-ah.” Jimin said with a whine and you felt him move to set whatever he was holding down.

“It’s life, I guess.”

“That doesn’t make it any better, ”Jimin turned around and started hugging you tightly as well, gently rubbing his cheek against your neck, “I don’t like it when you’re this stressed, Y/n-ah. Let me take care of you tonight. I don’t want you stressing anymore tonight.”

You laughed but gave in as Jimin started leading you to the couch before he started to bring the food he made into the living space as well. Soon enough, you were being coddled by Jimin who was making sure you ate and cuddling you as the two of you watched some random show. Sleep didn’t find you that night though. For some unknown reason, butterflies were hatching in your stomach and all you could do is feel them flutter around while wondering why you were possibly feeling such flutters.

Less than a month later, as snow started falling down rapidly, you found yourself in a similar situation. It was your turn to make dinner, which wasn’t a problem because it also happened to be one of the rare days you had off. It was almost 8 at night by the time you finished dinner, the sun long set and Jimin would be home soon. You’d just finished setting the table and were scared by how harshly Jimin slammed the door shut. Normally he was so careful with closing the door, respectful of your neighbors and not wanting to damage anything.

“Jimin-ah? Is that you?”

“Who else would it be? Have you been giving spare keys to your friends?”

You laughed and grabbed his backpack from him, “Aish. Why would I do that? We agreed not to. How was your day?”

Jimin walked into his room, his door open as he started changing. All the while he was venting. The students didn’t catch on to his newest dance as fast as he’d hoped and during break he heard them complaining. Then he ended up needing to take on an extra class because one of his coworkers bailed and he didn’t have time to practice for his showcase next week. Which was also a complete mess because everyone was being complete idiots, not that Jimin would ever tell them that.

“I’ve been looking forward to dinner all day though.” Jimin said with a large smile on his face as he sat down at the table, you joined him.

After dinner, you and Jimin sat on the couch and as Shrek was playing, he curled up next to you and rested his head on your lap, demanded pets. You wanted to laugh and make fun of him for being so clingy but refrained. He was so stressed. Now wasn’t the right time to make fun of him and his vulnerability. Plus, part of you relished in him wanting cuddles from you.

Dear Diary,

I am sorry that I’ve been neglecting you. Lol. I’ve been so busy! Being a student full time with a part time job is stressful. Who would have thought? Jimin’s been stressing sooo much over his latest dance performance. It is honestly stressing me out.

It probably isn’t healthy for him either. He literally spent the whole weekend practicing at the studio… I dropped off lunch for him both days. AND yesterday was one of his days to make dinner and instead of telling me that he couldn’t, he simply didn’t return to the apartment until, like, 10pm. I was so worried. THEN! He got upset at me for assuming he’d be cooking when his show is this Friday. Like, sorry I wasn’t informed that you wouldn’t be.

More importantly though, I am worried about Jimin. He used to come to me before his performances and we would talk. I was a person he could turn to for stress relief, but all he’s done leading up to this performance is snap at me and hide away in his studio in preparation. I don’t want him to be this stressed out…

What should I do?

By the next day, you’d figured out what must be done. You were going to forcefully bring Jimin home and the two of you would relax. All of Jimin’s favorite foods were laid out on the living space’s coffee table and you’d even gotten some extra skin care stuff because you knew Jimin loved that. This night would be all about relaxing. Hell, you were even prepared to massage Jimin’s gross feet and back. You’d do anything to make sure that Jimin could relax some.

You just had to… go to his studio and interrupt him in the middle of his practice… and forcefully bring him home.

No big deal. You could do it.

Right?

Right.

With a deep sigh, you gave your relaxation set-up a final once over and left the house. It was already 5pm and if you were going to make Jimin relax, you were going to need to start it soon. All throughout driving to Jimin’s studio, you were thinking over the many ways you could try to convince Jimin to relax and when you finally made it to the studio, you realized another issue:

You had no idea which room he had rented out today.

With an awkward smile and a nod at the receptionist, you made your way into the building. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too hard to find Jimin…

Of course it was hard. He just so happened to be in the third floor studio furthest from the stairs. When you found his room, you noticed he wasn’t alone. Minju was also visiting him. Neither of them noticed you approaching the door. Both were sitting and talking and when you reached the door you started to be able to hear tidbits of what they were saying.

“You’re going to… Seriously?”

“Yeah. I figured it’d be a super sweet way to confess. It’s why I am stressing so much about this performance. It has to be perfect.”

Oh.

You didn’t open the door.

Jimin liked someone?

Why didn’t you know?

You were best friends right?

Best friends were supposed to tell this stuff.

Sadness and disappointment filled your stomach and you contemplated turning around and just letting Jimin practice. Clearly this was important to him. You didn’t want to get in the way of him and another person.

“I don’t know man. Y/n… like this.”

“Like you would know? You’ve known her for the equivalence of a year and then some! I have been… five years now. I was… and as she celebrated!”

“Woah, Jimin-ah… I’m going to go now. Good luck.”

What?

Your brain was short circuiting. He liked you? You must have misheard that. That wasn’t possible. Jimin was… he was a catch and you were just you.

Did you even think of him that way?

“Oh! Hi, Y/n-ah. Crazy seeing you here!” Minju practically shouted, a smirk on his face as he looked back at Jimin.

Fuck! Somehow you managed to mumble a hello to Minju before shuffling into the dance studio and looking at Jimin. He looked tired. He also looked shocked and afraid.

You weren’t supposed to hear what you just heard.

“O-Oh… Y/n-ah! What are you doing here?”

“Well… I, uhhh, I came because I was worried about you. You’re coming home whether you like it or not and you’re going to relax with me.” You tried to be assertive but all the gusto you’d worked up seemed to have disappeared with Minju.

“O-Ok.”

“How much of that c-conversation did you hear, Y/n-ah?”

You sighed, “I…,” Were you about to be honest about this?

Did you want him confessing in front of a crowd of people?

No.

“I think I heard you say that you were planning on confessing to me after your performance?” You didn’t sound sure of yourself, not in the slightest. Not that you knew how anyone could possibly be sure of themselves in such a situation. Jimin himself seemed to deflate, his eyes wide.

“Fuck. This isn’t how you were supposed to find out. I had–”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach at his confirmation of wanting to ask you out.

Why?

Did you have a crush on him?

“So you were planning on confessing?”

“Yeah? I am so sorry if this makes you uncomfortable. Fuck. I didn’t think this through. We’re roommates. This–”

“I’d be down for a date…”

“What?” Jimin jumped up, his tail quivering and ears twitching.

“I’d be down for a date. I… I don’t know if I like you back, romantically at least… but I might and I won’t know unless we try.” Jimin looked at you with shock and you started to feel much, much smaller than Jimin.

“What? Really?”

You nodded.

“Omo! Omo! You won’t regret this one bit!” Jimin was bouncing around the room, excitement clearly evident on his face as he celebrated.

Next thing you knew, you were being pulled into a tight hug, Jimin gently rubbing your neck and repeatedly saying “thank you”. Those damn butterflies never left and as you looked at him, you started to really enjoy the idea of dating him.

He was your little squirrel… but he wasn’t that little.

“When do you want our first date to be? Oh! I need time to plan! Can we have it after my performance? I really need to keep practicing for it… even if I’m not confessing to you after it anymore. Is that ok with you?” Jimin pulled away from the hug, holding you at arms length and looking worried once again. His brows were furrowed and his teeth worried away at his plump lips.

Huh… You’d never noticed just how cute his plump lips were.

“Hmmm… no.” Jimin paled once again, “Our first date… will be… right now.” You said with a smile and a laugh as his brows furrowed deeper.

You reached up and soothed the space between his brows with a soft coo, “You’re super stressed, Jimin-ah. I don’t enjoy seeing you stressed. I planned to take you away from the studio tonight. I have skin care and food back home… and if we want we can also go to your favorite bibimbap restaurant before going back to the apartment. How does that sound?”

Jimin looked conflicted, his cute beady eyes searching your face and moving around the room as he thought. Unless he spoke, you wouldn’t know what he was thinking over and you had half a mind to ask him to speak but instead, you simply waited for Jimin to come to a decision.

“I mean… I was hoping to have some really extravagant first date,” He started but he had already moved to his bag at the side of the room, “This does sound like a great date though… maybe more of a second date or a third date in my opinion–”

“Let’s count it as our second date then. No need to split hairs, Jimin-ah. I’ll wait for you outside the locker room.”

Without giving Jimin time to say anything else, you left and made your way down the stairs to where the locker rooms were. Jimin ran quickly down the stairs and bolted into the locker room, his soft brown ears pinned to his head from how fast he was going. You laughed before settling onto the floor outside the locker room and playing one of the games on your phone. It would be a flip of the coin to see how long Jimin would take. You were personally betting that he is so excited to go on the date that he rushes and is out in fifteen, but he could also want to look good for the date and in turn take an hour.

Not that he didn’t always look good.

Even when you just thought of him as a friend, you knew he looked good. Did you think of him as more than a friend? Possibly, yeah. The idea of going on dates with him and being romantic with him sounds amazing. You were really excited to see how this date will go. Distractedly, you tapped away at your game, your mind in la-la-land as it started to think up a future with Jimin.

“Ready, Y/n-ah?” Jimin asked when he finally finished in the changing room.

In the end, he took a whole hour and a half to get ready and you were almost positive that you saw Jisoo sneak into the changing room with a bag from your apartment, his sleek tail almost hit you in the face as he exited the locker room. As you looked up at Jimin, you were once again struck by just how handsome he was. He styled his hair away from his face somehow and he looked unfairly good in his black skinny jeans and an oversized sweater.

You clambered up onto your feet, your legs numb from sitting in one spot for so long, and nodded at him with a shy smile. Gingerly, as if he was scared of breaking you, he grabbed your hand and the two of you left the dance studio.

Dear Diary,

Jimin asked me out! I was so shocked! Like… it isn’t bad at all… It is actually nice. Really nice. I like it a ton… and even though we’ve only gone on one date so far, I am really starting to like the idea of dating Jimin. He is so… so cute and kind and attentive. We got bibimbap and then just did skincare and stuff.

Something I am really glad about though is that I found out tonight. Apparently, Jimin was hoping to ask me out Friday after his performance… which would have been so embarrassing… (Imagine the pressure and… PDA is roughhh)… but I overheard him talking to Minju. Gosh. I wonder how Minju thinks of this. Did Jimin text him that we started dating? Is he just waiting until we see each other next? I don’t know what I’d prefer.

But uhhh… Jimin and I talked about having a “real” first date after his performance. I’m a little apprehensive though… I don’t want him to be exhausted during our first date. I trust Jimin though. He knows himself better than anyone else and if he thinks that he can handle a date after his recital… then so be it.

AHHH! I am so excited! Wish me luck. I really hope this works out.

You adjusted anxiously in the theater seat, your dress feeling all too tight in all the wrong places as you looked over the recital directory. Jisoo and Minju were next to you, glancing at you and smirking every once in a while. Jimin most definitely told them that you’re dating… and it doesn’t help that you showed up to the recital over-dressed in preparation for your date with Jimin afterwards. Which was at some super fancy place… how he roped you into that? You don’t know. You were just glad that he’d agreed to go dutch. There wasn’t any way in the world that you’d let him pay for both of your meals at such an expensive restaurant.

The recital hall was packed, people murmuring and talking excitedly. All of it stopped though when the lights dimmed and the host (a stout looking woman with some sort of large ears on her head) came on to introduce people. Soon enough the recital started and you became entranced by the many dancers who flounced around on stage. They all seemed so… natural up on the stage. Your breath was completely taken away when Jimin performed though. He was practically flying on stage and the way he moved was so… graceful and fluid. All too soon he was done. He’d taken the show. All throughout the rest of the recital you were transfixed. Jimin’s dance was playing on repeat in your mind, your breath stolen and thoughts completely empty. Soon enough, the show finished up and everyone around you was cheering. Almost half-heartedly, you joined along and followed Minju and Jisoo to where the meet-up was.

Why were you so anxious about seeing Jimin now? You were about to go on a date with him and yet all you could think about was his dance. In no time, Jimin was bouncing over in a nice suit of his own.

How were you supposed to function?

Not only was he the best dancer in… in the world but he was also undoubtedly the most handsome man you’d ever met. The three were talking around you but you were still transfixed. A hand gently touched your back and you jumped.

“Are you ok, Y/n-ah?"

It was Jimin. He was looking at you with concerned eyes and a soft smile. Minju and Jisoo were gone. You two were alone.

"I… Yeah. You were amazing out there. I am just… speechless.”

Jimin laughed quietly, a smug smile on his face as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

“You’re ready for our date?"

You nodded excitedly, walking out of the theater with Jimin in tow. This was going to be an amazing night.

Dear Diary,

Tonight was AMAZING. I know I was apprehensive before about dating Jimin but OMG IT WAS SOOOO GOOD. He was such a gentleman and when we held hands I felt butterflies erupt and it just.. It felt so nice. Tonight literally couldn’t have go-

Dear Y/n’s Diary,

I promise to take good care of her. We had a great night and I plan on making her my girlfriend soon. Now if you excuse us, I need cuddles from her.

Jimin.

#btscreatorscorner #thebtswritersclub #btsficarchive #bangtancastle #bangtanuniversity #bts #bts fluff #bts hybrid au #park jimin #park jimin fluff #bts friends to lovers #park jimin friends to lovers #park jimin hybrid au #bts fanfic #bts oneshot #bts one shot #park jimin one shot #park jimin oneshot

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iampikachuhearmeroar · 3 years ago

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every time i read an article where the writers call young adults “kidults” because they have to ask their parents for help with getting a home loan or a car loan or because they’re still living at home well into their 20s or into their early 30s or whatever; i roll my eyes and automatically devalue their opinion in the article as holding any weight.

like mate, maybe if the property market wasn’t so fucked here in australia that an extremely average and normal house can go for close to $1millon or over $1million in some areas (mostly in sydney and melbourne but it’s also happening down where i am depending on the area; and i don’t even live in sydney)….. which means many people need to ask their parents for financial help to get the at least $90,000 prep money to go for the loan….. maybe y’all should fucking do something to fix it so that so many people don’t default on their loans in 5 years.

like yeah sure you can blame young people for not knowing how to manage long term saving and their finances and stuff like that… but maybe y’all should take the effort to try and lower housing prices so people don’t need such a huge fucking starting loan price of close to $100,000. and okay yeah obvs idk much about finance myself but still. maybe you should realise it’s wrong that people basically need $100,000 just to buy a house now…. or something.

also. i listened to some radio show the other week while i stayed over my sisters house on my own; about how so many young adults just staying at home in general or for “financial reasons”. they had this dude on it who went on this spiel about how when young adults stay at home well into their 20s or longer; they miss big milestones like having proper relationships or getting married because they “never grow out of” wanting to stay at home because they just “don’t want to fly the nest” and then they went on the rant that “to think that in our day we flew the nest at 15!!!! these silly 20somethings never wanting to leave home!!!” they had points that if people stay at home til their late 20s they’ll probably struggle to hold down jobs because they “never mature” while living at home and other stuff like that.

again….. if property prices didn’t fucking skyrocket to a baseline of close to $1million and jobs that actually want to pay you a decent/proper and real tangible wage and don’t exploit you are fucking impossible to find for young people…. maybe then most of us would move out of home sooner??? if landlords didn’t take advantage of their tenants and stuff as well maybe then more young people would move out??? and also just the cost of even moving out to a share-house/flat or a flat on your own is expensive as hell too. like bonds are ridiculous as well. like maybe factor that in terry??? and just getting a job in general is fucking impossible when they want/expect a ridiculous amount of experience for someone just starting out in their 20s who just wants to work in retail/hospo or even in an office job. then during the pandemic many young people were literally forced to move back home anyway because they couldn’t afford their rent or to live generally with no fucking job because they’d lost their jobs after covid shut everything down. and many people are still finding it hard to get a job with job hunting. like for real. leave us the fuck alone.

like don’t get me wrong. i get those points on some levels, because some parents may continue to treat their adult kids as actual children even though they’re grown…. so they might excuse them from their household chores like doing the dishes etc still. but when parents treat their adult kids like actual adults and expect them to pitch in with paying board and stuff and let them have partners over and stuff…. then what’s the fucking big deal??? let people live their lives and stop guilting them for not “spreading their wings” when the economy and shit today makes it so fucking hard to do that.

like one of the interviewed people on that radio cast actually ran workshops in high schools for year 10-12 boys to learn sewing and how to use a washing machine and other domestic skills that guys usually get to avoid until they move out. but then another person on that show (a woman) was like “uh what’s the point of teaching people to sew/cook/wash their clothes nowadays when they should all be learning to code??? surely that’s a better life and job ready skill today??” etc etc. so miriam, you’re telling me that 25yo matt doesn’t need to know how to wash his own fucking clothes or even cook for himself because it has nothing to do with javascript???? you’re fucking kidding me right??? and if he moved in with his girlfriend deanna (for an example) that he’d be excused from his basic life skills and admin duties for his precious javascript skills??? fuck that. the guy’s a fucking fool if he won’t cook for himself/do his own washing/other household duties just because it has nothing to do with coding. get your head out of your ass, miriam; because coding isn’t the be all & end all of everything today.

but anyway yeah. i just fucking hate when journalists or whomever call people who still live at home in their 20s to 30s…. or even just any young adults in general “kidults” when the economy and society has made it fucking impossible for young adults to do literally any-fucking-thing if their parents aren’t relatively well off/rich, in terms of buying a house…. or just in general with trying to fucking live and get a long lasting stable well paying job; when so many fucking places just want to underpay you or just outright don’t want to pay anyone at all when you think in terms of “work experience” and “internships” or the worst fucking thing of all “exposure” if you think in terms of anything to do with social media/marketing/advertising or any other creative career path.

the above is why we can’t fucking leave home most of the time. because how the actual FUCK am i meant to even PAY RENT AND LIVE/EAT AND TRAVEL TO WORK when jack and lilly from some bs startup social media marketing firm in sydney want to only pay me in ⭐️⭐️E X P O S U R E AND G O O D V I B E S 😊😊😊 🎊✌🏻🙌🏻⭐️⭐️™️ and not with Actual Real Money™️; for my wasted fucking time travelling there and my overly exerted REAL EFFORT i’d have to put in to beg for the said exposure and good vibes to just work there and whatever other bullshit they write in their job description. like fuck off with your good vibes and exposure and fucking pay me lmao.

anyway that’s why i hate the term “kidults”

#life #about me #shut up ilona #ilona actually shares her life with her followers for once lol #i also get the points on some levels bc #dad bizarrely excused me from doing house chores like washing the dishes and doing the trash etc for years #*my #until i was like ‘uh if i move out to a sharehouse at any point…..#and im the one roommate who never: cleans/does the laundry/does the trash/gardening/does the dishes etc etc etc #what time of roommate would i fucking be????#i don’t want to be that person. and it makes me feel like i’m functioning #also when he went to hospital for surgery i HAD to do the chores like washing the dishes etc anyway #so that he could rest #and then my dad let me do those chores #plus there’s the fact that i don’t pay board like most young adults would #because my dads like ‘no keep your money it’s your money!!!’#but i always offer to help to help him with his credit card debts or pay off his loans and he says the same thing #but then i interpret my board as my seperate groceries/chemist stuff/meds and petrol as board #and also yeah the main reason i’ve never bothered with dating #is because my dads house is so messy so i can’t invite anyone in #and also because my dad doesn’t like having other people in the house in general #he’s even said that if i started dating that i can bring the guy over so there’s no point #*cant #and i hate that because i feel like i’m using the guy and/or using his family to stay at his/his fams house #and i can’t return the favour #like yeah i understand it on many levels lmao

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muwur · 4 years ago

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haikyuu x otome: masterlist | rules

prologue

» synopsis: a haikyuu x reader au where you, the player, are bound for university in a metropolis several hours away from home. hope and excitement are replaced with dread as you come to realize that juggling life as a student and a part-time employee takes a toll. from demanding classes to a ruthless manager, life just can’t seem to give you a break. that is, until you meet a certain someone who reminds you how to live and follow your dreams. somehow, when you’re with them, time stands still. maybe things are finally starting to look up. if only you could stay in those moments for just a little longer.

» gn reader

» ngl came out longer than i expected but thats ok LMAO,, them otome intros be unnecessarily long too mb; 3.1k words

» note: if u rllyy want u can kinda skip or just skim this, the gist is that you move in n meet like 3 ppl LOL

The train hummed as it zoomed through the landscape, leaving behind the familiar people, sights, sounds, and smells. Yawning, you rubbed your nap away from weary eyes and peered out the window. Just hours ago you had waved a bittersweet farewell to your town, friends, and family, who woke at the crack of dawn to send you off with tight hugs and teary-eyed wishes of good luck.

Your heart lurched at the memory. You’d miss them. In an effort to part happily, you promised to come back for the holidays, call often, and hook your friends up with any cute people you just knew would match them. Glancing down at your phone, you smiled at the excited text messages from your friends. Your fingers tapped away at the keyboard in response.

‘Just woke up from my nap. I think I’m here!’

Outside, buildings scraped the clouds and their windows shined in the light of the afternoon sun. Cars honked, bikes swerved, crowds bustled. On one end of the block, a man on a ladder was painting a sign for his store, while on the other end , a street performer danced energetically in her black shoes. Smoke emitted from a food vendor’s stand, where a man skillfully flipped some meat and vegetables on a stove, even throwing his spatula into the air to entertain his customers. The city was alive.

Stepping off the train, you clutched your belongings and felt a sudden rush of exhilaration. You were finally here. You intended to take a deep breath, in order to take in your first taste of this city’s air, only to stop halfway in a short hacking fit to expel train exhaust from your lungs.

‘That was pleasant,’ you grumbled to yourself, still coughing as you made your way off the platform towards the street. Luckily, Lyft existed. And it was cheaper here! Within minutes of your order, a black Toyota pulled up in front of you. The driver smiled and stepped out of the car, their wavy brown hair bouncing against their shoulders. “Let me help you with those,” they smiled as they offered to take your bags and put them in the trunk.

“Oh, thank you so much!” What a kind person, you thought as you opened the backseat of the car. Ooh.

On second thought, maybe you were too optimistic. Who knew a 10 minute ride could feel so long? It seemed at least twice that much when you were squished in the backseat with some handsy couple. Just your luck, someone was already occupying the passenger seat. Oh well, a minor inconvenience in the name of saving money. All you could do was shift closer to the door, fix your gaze outside the window, and try to ignore the strange purrs coming from your seatmates. A familiar building caught your eye and you let out a sigh of relief when the car came to a stop. You thanked your driver as you stepped out and pulled your bags out of the trunk. Looking back and forth from your phone to the townhouse before you, you had to admit the real thing looked a little more worn down than how it was advertised, but you couldn’t blame them. I mean, your pictures on instagram aren’t exactly the everyday representation of yourself, either.

Aged wood creaked as you hoisted your bags up the front steps. You tapped your knuckles three times against the brown door and rang the buzzer to the landlord’s office.

“Hello? Miss Q?” you asked, hoping the landlord you’ve been contacting for the last two months would answer. “It’s me, y/n, I let you know I’d be coming in today.”

No answer. 15 minutes, a few text messages, and a phone call later, still no response. You groaned. Were you at the right place? Looking back at the address of the building and your location, you were sure this was it. Did Miss Q happen to be out? Or was she napping and just happened to be a heavy sleeper? Maybe her phone died. Whatever the reason, you were stuck out here for the meantime. Shrugging it off, you took a seat on a dusty patio chair and started to scroll mindlessly through your phone to pass the time. Hopefully she’d reply soon.

The screech of a vehicle coming to a stop caught your ear. You looked up to see that the mover’s van you ordered pulled up across the street. Well, at least your things arrived. You stood up and waved to the man driving the vehicle. Making your way to greet and thank him, you helped him unload your things and set them down on the free space in front of the complex, making sure to keep the pathways clear. Placing down the last of the things onto the ground, you wiped the sweat off your brow, tipped the man, and watched him leave.

20 minutes of that and still you remained stuck outside. The late summer sun was beginning to get unbearably warm. Sitting amongst your pile of things, you couldn’t help but groan inwardly at the thought of all the unpacking you had to do. On top of that, classes begin in a week, and you needed to search for a job as soon as possible to help pay the bills.

“Erm, hello? Are you y/n l/n, by any chance?” a gentle voice asked.

Lost in your thoughts, you failed to notice anyone had approached you. He was a fairly tall boy with dark hair half pulled back into a messy bun. Freckles adorned his face, complemented by his soft brown eyes and warm smile. He wore a pair of white shoes, slightly distressed lightwash jeans that were rolled up at the bottom, and a loose fitting, olive button up half tucked into his jeans. In his arms was a brown paper bag with a loaf of bread peeking out.

(I STAN LONG HAIRED/HAIRBUN YAMS SO HARD SO HE’S GONNA HAVE IT OK)

“Yeah, I am! Do you live here?” you responded eagerly, getting up to your feet.

He nodded with a smile. “I do! Apparently Miss Q’s sick and staying at her daughter’s place for now, so her daughter messaged me to help you get settled in. Let me put these groceries away and get your key.”

He disappeared into the townhouse, then returned a few moments later with a key dangling between his fingers. “Miss Q needs a better hiding spot for her spare office key. The plant pot is way too obvious. Anyways, I can show you to your room, now. I’ll help you carry your things up,” he offered.

“That would be great! Thanks again for all your help, otherwise I’d probably have been stuck out here all night,” you said, gently handing him a box to carry.

“Y-Yeah, no problem! Though, Tsukki might’ve let you in if he saw you out here, too. Oh, and my name’s Tadashi Yamaguchi, by the way. Some people call me Yams. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Yams,” you huffed in amusement at his cute nickname. “Call me y/n.” Carrying some boxes, you followed Yamaguchi into the building. Luckily you were on the first floor, second door on the lefthand side. He fumbled with the key, searching for the keyhole before turning the unlocked knob and opening the door.

Much like the outside, the interior of the place was also outdated. You both stood in front of the quaint living area connected to the kitchen. In the back, you could see the hallway leading to the bathroom and your single bedroom. The plain, white walls of the room were illuminated by daylight coming in from the windows on the rightmost wall. You could overlook the worn couch and scuffed dining table, though, considering the place was fully furnished and leased at a great price. Miss Q had even told you both the kitchen and bathroom had actually been remodeled recently.

Going back and forth to take your belongings inside, you thought to get to know your new neighbor. “So, how long have you lived here?”

He pursed his lips in thought and stacked the box he was carrying on top of another one. “Mm, only since the start of summer, actually. My friend and I came here to start university, and one of his favorite museums also happens to be in this city. We come from about 2 hours north of here, though. What about you?”

You set down a particularly heavy bag onto the floor with a grunt. “I’m from a place several hours west of here. I came here for school, too! Are you going to Central University, by any chance?”

“Yeah, I am!” he responded with pleasant surprise and wide eyes. “I guess we’ll be seeing each other on campus, too. Remind me to show you the closest bus stop you can take to get there.” A soft smile formed on his lips.

After finally taking in all your belongings, you collapsed onto the couch in exhaustion. Your eyes flickered over to the brunette, whose chuckle you could hear from across the room. “Long day?” he asked, settling into a spot next to you.

Groaning, you replied, “I’ve been up since 5 am to do some last minute packing and catch my train.”

“Yikes. Sounds early.”

“Tell me about it.”

A comfortable silence hung in the air for a few seconds. Curious, he piped up with another question. “So, what made you decide to move all the way out here?”

“Hmm,” you began. “Well, I wanted to settle into a new, unknown place, y’know? Explore the world a little more and see what it’s like out here. Be on my own for the first time.”

Yamaguchi nodded thoughtfully in understanding. “I get you. My best friend and I kinda came here for the same reasons. We wanted to expand our worlds a bit. I’ve only been here a few months, and already so much has happened. You’ll definitely get to explore and experience a lot in this city. Things are always busy around here...” he trailed off, checking a notification on his phone that just dinged with a new message. His brown gaze flickered back to you. “Ooh, would you like to have a drink with my friend and I at my place? I live in the room right across from here. You seem like you need a break.”

You could feel your lips curve upwards. “I’d really enjoy that, actually.”

Thus you found yourself in your new friend’s apartment, sinking comfortably into his black beanbag chair, a bottle of cold lemonade in your hand. Taking another refreshing swig, your eyes traveled over to the blonde seated next to Yams on their tan sofa. You could hardly feel welcome when the first words that came out of his mouth after seeing you was a disgruntled “you brought someone here?”, which made Yamaguchi smack the back of his friend’s head.

“They’re our new neighbor, Tsukki! Be more welcoming,” he chided with a roll of his eyes. “Y/n, this is Kei Tsukishima. Tsukki, this is y/n.”

He rubbed the back of his head and glared at Yamaguchi. The blonde sighed, extending a hand out towards you. “Tsukishima. Nice to meet you, I guess.”

“Erm,” you tried to smile, “nice to meet you, too, Tsukishima. Just call me y/n.”

‘How is someone as sweet as Yams best friends with this dude?’

He couldn’t be all bad, you reasoned. Maybe he was just having a bad day,,, or always having a bad day. Regardless, even if your first impression was kinda substandard and underwhelming, you hoped you’d get along. He seemed like the type to need to get to know someone before warming up to them.

You set the empty bottle atop their maple coffee table. Two hours had creeped by, consisting mostly of lighthearted exchanges between you and Yamaguchi, with a brief, occasional response from Tsukishima. He spent most of the time flipping through the pages of a novel and lightly tapping its hardcover to the beat of whatever he was listening to on his headphones. Yamaguchi suggested getting delivery from a Thai place he liked a few blocks away, and even insisted on covering the cost for you.

“No, you really don’t have to..! I appreciate the offer, though,” you pleaded.

He shook his head, smiling as he tapped away at postmates on his phone. “Don’t worry about it.” He logged in both your orders and nudged Tsukishima with his elbow. “What do you want?”

Pushing up his glasses, Tsukishima leaned over to look at his friend’s phone screen. A few moments passed before he pulled away and said, “Pad Kee Mao sounds good.”

30 minutes later and there was a ring at the front door. A voice on the buzzer sounded. “I have a delivery for, uh.. Tadashi!”

“Looks like they’re here,” Yamaguchi said as he stood up. You followed him out to the main entrance. Behind the door was a boy with tousled orange hair and bright brown eyes, carrying a plastic bag filled with takeout boxes. “Here you go!” he exclaimed as he handed you the order. He peered at the brunette beside you, his face scrunching in thought before lightening up with clarity. “Hey, you were with the guy I crashed into the other day! I-Is he okay by the way? Sorry, I was in a really big rush...!”

Eyebrows shooting up in surprise and eyes widening with familiarity, Yamaguchi nodded, “Oh yeah, I remember that! Don’t worry, he’s alright, just bitter and annoyed. I’m glad you seem to be okay, as well.”

The redhead scratched the back of his neck sheepishly and looked down at his scuffed shoes. “Ah, thanks! Um, is he around? I’d like to apologize for yesterday...”

Yamaguchi smiled. “I’ll go grab him,” he said briefly before heading back to his apartment.

The delivery boy sighed with relief. “Man, I felt really bad about that yesterday...” he muttered. He looked back up, his eyes brightening when they met yours. “My name’s Shoyo Hinata! People usually call me Hinata.”

“I’m y/n, it’s nice to meet you,” you smiled, offering your hand. He shook hands with you a bit too vigorously, and you nearly dropped the food held in your other arm. “Are you new around here?” he asked.

“Hah, is it that obvious?” you joked.

“Nahh, just a wild guess. You’re just really refreshing, is all! Most of the people I meet seem burnt out, but I don’t blame them. We’ve all got busy lives. Talking to you is nice, though! I haven’t learned any customer’s names, well, since I started working! Then again, it’s only been two months... Anyways, where you from? I was born and raised here.”

If anything, you thought Hinata was the refreshing one. A tad talkative, but refreshing nonetheless. He effused a radiance that matched his vivid hair. “I’m from *insert place here*, a few hours west of here. I just arrived today!”

Before he could give you a response, however, you both heard footsteps approaching. You could recognize Tsukishima’s voice muttering a low “let’s get this over with” from behind you. Now standing at the doorframe, the blonde towered over Hinata. His countenance displayed obvious annoyance. However, he maintained his composure, pressed his finger against the bridge of his nose, and sighed out, “What do you want?”

Hinata bowed. “I’m sorry I crashed into you with my bike the other day! I was rushing to volleyball practice and I wasn’t looking. It was my fault.”

Eyes narrowing, Tsukishima allowed several moments of silence to achingly pass before letting out a small huff. “Fine. Apology accepted.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he turned around to return to his room. “Watch where you’re going next time, idiot. You’d better hope you don’t run into me again.” A door shut.

‘That was quick.’

Hinata looked up to watch him leave and straightened his form again. Lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed, he crossed his arms across his chest. “Geez, what’s his deal?” Yamaguchi cast him an apologetic look. “Ah, he’s just like that. He appreciates the gesture, though.”

A high-pitched ding caught your attention. “Ah, I gotta go make another delivery! It was nice to meet you all!”

Quickly grabbing a bill out of your pocket, you stopped Hinata mid-step. “Wait! Here, please take this. Thanks for the food!”

He accepted the tip from your hands, looking back and forth between you and the money. “Wow, thank you so much! I really hope to see you around. Have a great night!” With a final smile and wave, he bounded off the porch steps towards his bike, hopped on, then disappeared down the street.

After having dinner and exchanging contact information with Yamaguchi and Tsukishima, you thanked them for having you over and retired back to your room. Drained, you only had enough energy to make up your bed and unpack your bathroom essentials. You trudged into the bathroom. Looking into the mirror, weariness was evident in your dull gaze. ‘Ugh, I can’t wait to sleep,’ you thought as you turned the sink on. The cool water felt refreshing against your skin and livened your senses. You brushed your teeth before retreating to your bedroom and changing into a comfier pair of clothes.

You checked the time on your phone. How was it only 11 PM? The darkness, coupled with your exhaustion, made it seem at least three hours ahead. You plugged the phone in to charge and set it down on the bedside table. ‘No need to set an alarm,’ you thought, ‘I just wanna sleep.’

You took a few minutes to stare at the dark ceiling overhead, thinking about all the new changes coming your way. New faces, cool food, and exciting places. Hopefully you had some time these first few weeks to explore and familiarize yourself with the city. Excitement mixed with a prick of anxiety as you thought about how you could manage on your own. However, you had faith in your independence. You would be okay. Besides, there were friendly people out here like Yamaguchi, Hinata, and maybe Tsukishima who you could trust if you ever needed help.

It didn’t take long for you to drift off into a deep slumber. You lazily woke up the following morning, yawning with outstretched arms. ‘That was the best sleep I’ve had in ages,’ you thought as you sat up. It was half an hour before noon. The sun shone brightly through your windows, whose curtains were left undrawn. ‘Surprised that the light didn’t wake me up sooner.’ A loud honk made you jump in your seat. ‘Or the noise.’

You drew your legs over the side of the bed and took in the state of your room. Surrounded by stacked boxes and luggage, you were reminded what you came here for. Anticipation collected in your chest. This was the start of the life you’ve been waiting for the past few years.

‘We’re gonna make the best of this, y/n.’

161 notes · View notes

kiwi-bitchez · 5 years ago

Note

hey love can you maybe do a shower smut one shot? don't feel pressured like if u don’t wanna do it it’s fine!

Water Pressure

Reader x Peter Parker

Reader and Peter are both college-aged. College!Neighbor!AU I guess?

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: Smut, shower sex, oral sex, face sitting, dick sucking, soap getting in your eyes, unreliable landlords

New York City in the summer was a great place to be. The stress of school was lifted off your shoulders, and you were lucky enough to be interning at your dream job. You were grateful for the opportunity to stay in the city after the semester ended, not having to move back home to your small town. However, there was one thing about summer in the city that was unbearable: the heat.

It was like a wet blanket that hit you every time you stepped out of your apartment, not that the tiny window box unit you had made much of a difference indoors. It was oppressive and heavy and difficult. You managed to survive with ice packs and cold showers. That was… until this afternoon.

You hike up the seven flights of stairs to your tiny apartment. The building was under serious renovations and didn’t have a working elevator, flickering lights, strange noises in the night. But it was seriously cheap rent compared to the other buildings in the area, so you were willing to make the sacrifices. Not many people lived on your floor, most of the rooms had been occupied by college students whose leases ended at the end of the school year.

You press your sweaty forehead against the chipped paint of the door as you fumble with your keys for a moment.

“Hey y/n, you good?” your neighbor from across the hall asks as he steps out of his apartment to leave for the afternoon.

“Yeah, thanks Flash. Its just so damn hot out. I’d suggest bringing some water wherever you’re going,” you respond. You sneak a peak into his apartment for a second before the door swings shut, getting a glance of his roommate Peter who was playing video games on the couch.

You were grateful to have them as neighbors, they were nice enough, would let you borrow a cup of sugar every once in a while, and weren’t too loud like the previous people you had lived near in college. It didn’t hurt that Peter was nice to look at. He was incredibly nice, and a little dorky, which only added to his charm. It wasn’t long into the summer before you had developed a little crush on him.

You had seen him around campus before, but never really got to know him. His best friend Ned had been your calculus tutor sophomore year, so you saw him in passing but never more than a wave or a smile. Now that he was living across the hall you saw him almost every day, lucky you.

You finally make it into your shoebox apartment and drop your stuff down on the kitchen counter. It wasn’t much cooler inside as it was outside, unfortunately. You immediately shed yourself of your slightly sticky clothing, peeling the few layers off your damp skin. It had become routine to hop in the shower as soon s you get home, an attempt to bring your body temperature down a few degrees and wash the sweat from your hair.

A sigh of relief escapes you as the ice cold water hits your face. The air of the city left a certain layer of grime on you that always felt nice to wash off. You allow yourself to use a large dollop of shampoo, wanting to scrub the roots of your hair from any sweat and dirt that the city had left.

It was moments like this that you cursed your landlord, cursed the building that you lived in, and cursed whatever higher power was in charge of your utilities. Your water shuts off. You jiggle the knob, hoping the water would turn back on, but it only lets out a few sad drips.

This had happened before, and typically wasn’t too big of a problem, however you had a mound of soapy hair on the top of your head that was starting to drip down your body. You let out an exasperated groan, not knowing what to do. You hop out and stick your head in the sink, hoping to use the sink water to rinse some of the shampoo suds out of your hair.

Of course the sink wouldn’t turn on either, and now your head was upside down in your tiny bathroom sink, soapy wet hair all in your face. When you stand up, the suds drip into your eyes and mouth, making you frown and scrunch your eyes up tight.

You grab the towel from the door hook and wrap it around your dripping body. In a moment of panic, soap burning in your eyes and starting to drip onto the floor, you decide to leave your apartment. It was a last ditch effort, but you needed this shampoo out of your hair and maybe their shower was working.

“Hey Peter?” you yell as you knock a few times, your other hand holding up the wet towel, “I need some help.”

You feel a little relieved when you hear his footsteps approaching, however that relief turns to embarrassment very quickly when he opens the door and you remember your current state.

“Y/n…. um…” he is a little confused.

“Sorry, my water shut off and I have soap in my eyes and in my hair and all over the floor,” you start to ramble, not really able to see him through your scrunched up soapy face, “is your water working? Can I use it for just a second.”

He starts laughing, which makes you feel a little bit better, you let out a laugh too. “Sure thing, I think it’s working.”

He runs over to the kitchen and turns on the sink, “Seems to be working fine, feel free to use the shower.”

“I…um…” you stand blindly in the frame of his doorway, dripping water and your hair a soapy mess in your face.

“Here, let me help you,” he laughs again. He takes your arm and guides you into their bathroom, his apartment the same model as yours just mirrored. “I have to leave, but feel free to take your time and let yourself out when you’re done.”

“Thank you so much, you’re a life saver,” you hear the door close behind you and you step into the shower, fumbling with the knob for a second before the water shoots out. You feel your heart rate slow as the soap is finally washed from your face.

You had only started to run your fingers through your tangled hair when you hear the bathroom door open again. Your eyebrows furrow as you start to peek your head out of the curtain. You see a figure for a second, floppy brown hair that could only be Peters. His hand quickly moves to the curtain, closing it in front of your face.

“Peter, what the fuck,” you start to ask.

“Shhh,” he shushes you and keeps the shower curtain closed tightly with his arm.

“Peter, what-” you begin to ask again before hearing Flash’s loud voice from the hallway.

“Hey dude, you in the shower?” He asks Peter.

“Umm, yeah, what’s up?” His voice is tense. You’re incredibly confused and just stand there in the shower enjoying the cold water.

“Just forgot my wallet. You mind if I take a piss?”

“Uhh,” before Peter can respond the doorknob starts to wiggle. You wonder why he doesn’t just tell Flash that you’re using the shower, but the situation is hard to gauge from inside.

“Fuck-” Peter mutters as he swiftly hops into the shower with you.

You turn to face him, about to throw your hands up, but it all happens too quickly. Before you can even ask what the fuck is going on his hand comes up to cover your mouth. Your eyes almost pop out of your head and your knees almost buckle when you finally see Peter.

Standing in the shower in front of you from the neck up was your neighbor Peter, the science whiz, nerdy, cute, t-shirt wearing, floppy haired Peter you had come to know. From the neck down…was Spider-man. Tight red and black suit that hugged his body, hand covering your mouth was gloved in a strange material that felt cold against your skin.

His face was incredibly panicked, his eyes almost as wide as yours. His other hand frantically came up to his face, signaling you to be quiet with a finger to his lips. Not that you had a choice, his large suited hand was tightly covering the lower half of your face.

You didn’t even have the time or focus to be embarrassed about being naked in front of him. You were overwhelmed with confusion and were too concentrated on the superhero in front of you to bother covering yourself up.

He throws his head back in annoyance as you can hear Flash peeing a few feet away, humming all the while.

“Alright man, have a good day,” he yells as he exits the bathroom.

“Yeah, you too,” Peter tries to keep his voice cool but you can hear an underlying shakiness.

As soon as the door slams shut he removes his hands from your mouth, but is still frantically gesturing for you to stay quiet. A few seconds pass and you hear the front door shut, he lets out a sigh of relief, but you can’t say the same for yourself.

His eyes grow wide again, realizing that he’s in the shower with you, and you’re naked. He scrunches his eyes shut and quickly turns around.

“Sorrysorrysorry,” he runs his hands through his hair, a little damp now from the condensation of the shower.

Before he can continue you grab his arm and turn him around, “What the fuck Peter,” you were still absolutely stunned, “what…”

“I’m sososo sorry I didn’t mean to be a creep or anything, I didn’t know he was gonna come into the bathroom and I had to hide…” you could tell he was just as nervous as you.

“I…what…” your brain still could not form words, “you’re… you’re…”

“Spiderman, yeah, and I really need you to not tell anyone please,” his eyes were wide with worry. At a split second you had thought this was a joke, or maybe he just dresses up in his free time or something, but no. The way his hand felt on your mouth and the terror in his eyes told you this was real, too real.

You give him a nod, “of course, of course.”

“It’s my biggest secret, and I can’t afford for Flash to find out because, well, I don’t think he’s kept anything to himself his entire life.”

You laugh a little, but your body still feels rigid and your mind is still swarming with questions. “But I think I can trust you,” he says, somewhere in between a question and a statement.

“Yes, you can trust me,” you could see ease creep onto his face, the wide-eyed, fearful look was slowly melting away. “Ned knows?” Out of all the questions you had, why was this the one you asked? It just slipped out.

“Yeah, Ned knows,” It was weird that you two were still in the shower, but you were both still too shaken up to realize or care.

“And…” you start.

“And that’s it. You and Ned.”

A deep pit begins to form in your stomach, “You aren’t gonna kill me or something, are you? Cuz I promise I won’t tell anyone; I swear.”

“Nonono,” he panics, “No, I’m one of the good guys, I don’t kill people. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Sorry, I- I don’t know why I said that,” you felt bad for implying anything, you were just nervous that your newfound knowledge of Peter would change things.

“It’s okay that you’re freaked out, I’m- I’m sorry for putting you in this position.”

Without really thinking you turn around and face the water. You needed to feel something other than confusion, embarrassment, shock, and fear. You spin back around after a moment, Peter still standing there in the same state of shock and confusion as you.

“So you’re Spiderman,” you say with assurance, “wow.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll get out, I’m sorry if I’m being super weird.”

No part of you blamed him for his actions, you knew he wasn’t making up excuses to hop into a cold shower with you. And you didn’t blame him for lingering. He was just answering your questions, explaining himself. That was reasonable.

“No,” you weren’t sure what to say to get him to stay, “step into the water, it will make you feel better, I promise.”

He stared at you with a blank expression for a second, not knowing how to take your suggestion. He was also concentrating immensely on concealing the erection that was prominently poking against the material of his suit. He wanted to remove himself before you noticed before you could realize that he had been looking at you.

You had noticed. For a split second, while admiring how nice he looked in the skin tight suit your eyes wandered south and caught a glimpse of his hard on under the suit. He still looked nervous, a new kind of nervous though.

Placing your hands on his shoulders, making somewhat of a bold move, you reassure him, “It’s okay Peter, it’s just me.”

There was something lingering in the space between you. The fact that neither one of you had rushed to escape the shower at the first possible second was one thing. You hadn’t tried to cover yourself up. You looked him in the eye when speaking to him with an air of sincerity and understanding.

“How does it come off?” you ask, genuinely curious as it seemed to be air-tight against his body.

His hand slowly comes up to the center of his chest, pressing down on the spider logo. The material seems to evaporate off him, expanding and stretching until it pooled at his feet.

The wide look in your eyes had turned to something else entirely, they boy you had been stealing glances of for the past few months was naked and in the shower with you. Albeit, the circumstances that got you here were not ideal.

You take his hands and move them up to your face, encouraging his strong hands to cup your cheeks on either side. The way he was looking at you made something inside you stir. You tried to close some of the empty space between you, as he tentatively pulled your face to his.

The kiss was soft and gentile, your lips hovered over his for a moment before connecting. Your arms wrapped around his neck, a hand moving up to his damp curls. He pulls away slowly, eyes remaining closed for a moment after your lips had parted.

“This…” he whispers, “this isn’t just because you think I’m gonna kill you or something.”

“No,” you laugh, “I wanted to do that before I knew your secret identity. I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

“Me too,” he mumbles into your lips as he moves to kiss you again, this one was harder and more sure. His hands run up and down your body, wrapping around your waist and snaking up to your chest.

You couldn’t help but let out a whimper as his tongue met yours. Your hands were resting on his chest, toned and perfect.

“You’re really warm,” you comment with some concern, as his skin was burning underneath your touch.

“It’s a…spider sense thing,” he wasn’t quite sure how to go about explaining his abilities to you.

“Here, step into the cold water,” you had forgotten where you were for a second. You felt bad about his water bill, you had been in here for quite a while, and hopefully would be here for a while more.

You clenched your thighs together as you watched him step under the water and run his hands through his now wet hair. It was like a scene out of a movie, the way his muscles rippled with each movement, the way his lips remained slightly parted as the water washed over his face.

His arms wrapped around your waist to pull you under the stream of water with him. The sensation of his face pressed to yours, lips interlocking as the water rolled down your face was unreal. You shift your body towards his, pressing your chest flat to his. You could feel his hard cock pressing against your stomach, making your thighs clench again.

“Will you touch me?” you whimper into his mouth, sounding desperate and weak. You move your hand over his, showing him where you wanted him most.

“Fuck,” he groans as his fingertips make contact with your wet folds. His hands are much bigger and stronger than yours, the sensation causes your eyes to flutter shut.

You move your hands down to his already hard cock, rubbing it up and down, somehow making it harder. Your mouth falls agape as he slips a digit into you, cool water still running over your body.

He takes your lower lip in between his, sucking on it in the process. He slowly pushes you back so your body meets the tile shower wall. One hand working between your legs and the other palming at your chest has you seeing stars. Your head rolls back, giving him access to suck and nip at your neck.

Fuck, why had you not done this sooner? He had been right across the hall all summer and only now were you finally experiencing what you had been daydreaming about.

“Peter,” you moan out, continuing to stroke his erection, “I need you.”

He mumbles into your neck, now littered with red splotches. He curls his fingers up into you, making your legs buckle a little, “Fuck,” you gasp out, “please.”

“Peter I need you to fuck me,” you can feel him smile into your skin, “but I’m worried about running u your water bill.”

“You don’t want me to take you right here?” he pushes against you so your back is flat up against the wall. All you can do is moan in response, his fingers still making work inside you.

Slowly detaching his lips from your chest and removing his fingers from you, he moves back into the water to turn the shower off. While he faces away, you slowly drop down to your knees, thighs spread apart and tongue laying flat out of your mouth.

You look up at him with big blinking eyes as he turns around to face you.

“Holy shit,” he hovers above you, “You’re gonna kill me, you know that, right?”

“Can I?” you ask as your head moves towards his cock. He nods and gives you permission before you lick a long stripe up the underside. His eyes closed and his head falls back as you take his tip into your mouth, rolling your tongue around his sensitive head.

“You’re sure this isn’t just because I’m Spiderman?” he manages to ask in between deep breaths.

“Peter,” you pause your sucking and continue to stroke him, “I’ve thought about having your cock in my mouth every day this summer. Every time we rode the elevator together, or passed each other in the hallway, I’ve wanted you.”

You go back to taking his length into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, loving the noises he makes as you take him deeper.

“Do you want to go to my room?” He asks, “the bathtub floor can’t be comfortable to kneel on.”

You stand up and place a gentle kiss on his mouth, “That’s very thoughtful,” you kiss him again between thoughts, “I would love to.”

He takes you by surprise as his arms quickly lift you up, wrapping your legs around his firm torso. He carries you with ease to his small bedroom, tossing you back onto his messy comforters.

Climbing back on top of you, peppering your body with kisses as he makes his way up to your face, your lips finally meet with Peter’s again. You bite down a little onto his lower lip as his hand tangles its way into your wet hair, the other resuming its place between your legs.

You let out a low moan, only to be cut off by him whispering in your ear, “Will you sit on my face?” You pull back, a little stunned at his question, mouth parted at the way his fingers continued to twist inside you.

“All those times we were in the elevator or the hallway, and you were thinking about my cock in your mouth, I was thinking about you sitting that pretty pussy of yours on my face, riding my tongue.”

That sent a shiver down your spine that pulsed in your already soaking wet cunt. “Holy fuck” you could not even begin to explain how turned on you are. Peter easily flips you over so that you are now straddling him, his lips moving to suck down on one of your hard nipples.

You grind your crotch down onto him, missing the friction of his hand.

“Come here,” he lays flat down and guides your thighs up to either side of his head. Your mind was spinning with lust, completely fucked out and unable to concentrate as he uses his strong hands to lower you down onto his face.

His hands wrapped comfortable around your waist, fingertips diffing perfectly into your soft skin. A deep moan escapes you as he starts to lap up and down your slit. His tongue moves easily across you, lapping up and down, around your clit, into your hole, all of it. Your eyes were permanently rolled into the back of your head.

His grip on your waist started to guide your hips back and forth, rolling your core across his eager tongue. Every time your hips buckled forward and your clit made contact with his tongue waves of pleasure shot up your body. You couldn’t help but lean forward, using his headboard as support as he completely owned you with just his tongue.

“Peter,” his name comes out as a strangled moan, “I’m gonna come soon, fuck.”

He hums into you, adding vibrations to the slick wetness. “I want to come on your cock, fuck. Please, Peter, I need you to fuck me.”

Although you couldn’t get enough of his tongue, the way he was taking control over you, you were dying to feel him inside of you. You wanted to feel your walls clench around him as you came.

He laps a few more times at your sensitive clit, almost pushing you over the edge. He can tell you’re close by the way your thighs shook around his head, pressing against his ears. He starts to move, replacing his tongue with his fingers against your clit. He gracefully changes position, coming up behind you so you didn’t have to move at all.

You were already at the perfect angle, arms pressed up against the headboard and hips arched back for him. He continues to rub tight circles against you as he starts to run his tip up and down your soaking slit.

“You’re sure,” he knows you’ve already said yes, but he just wanted to make sure.

“Fuck, yes Peter please, please fuck me,” your words came out somewhere between a whine and a moan.

He pushes his tip into you slowly, and you rock back onto his cock, letting him slip deep into you. His mouth drops open for a second at the sensation of fucking you mixed with the way you looked with your head thrown back and ass bouncing against him.

“Peter, I’m gonna come please don’t stop.”

He picks up his pace, fucking into you faster while his fingers continued to rub your clit. He had only been inside you for a few moments, and he could already feel your tight walls gripping around his length, your orgasm washing over you and dripping all over his cock.

You fall forward a little, letting out gravely moans of his name and profane language. He fucks you through your orgasm, not letting up as you start to come down. He can start to feel your legs shake, so he removes his hand from your clit and takes a firm grip on either side of your ass. He kneads your flesh as he continues to bury his dick into you.

You were almost flat down on your stomach, hips still angled up for him, face buried into the pillows to muffle your loud moaning screams. He wanted to see your face as you cried out his name, so he pulls out and gently rolls you over, kissing up your thighs to give you a second to readjust.

He thought you looked incredibly beautiful, with your hair sprawled out around your head, your lips puffy and eyes fluttered shut.

He takes your chin between his thumb and his hand to angle your face up to his, kissing you passionately and deeply as he slipped back into you. You moan into the kiss, hands coming up to his hair.

He held one of your thighs back with his hand, giving him perfect access. Through fucking you he never stopped kissing you, only coming up to gasp for air when he felt you clench around him in pleasure. His thumb rubbed across your cheek, hand tucked perfectly under your jaw.

He loved the way you would whisper his name in between kisses, rolling your hips up into his.

He knew he wouldn’t last much longer, the way his dick swelled inside you as you sucked a mark onto his neck was a dead giveaway.

“You’re gonna make me cum, fuck,” he whispers to you, only encouraging you to grind your hips up more and kiss him harder.

He jolts back up onto his knees, pulling his dick out and rubbing the tip across your lower stomach as his come shoots out. You lift your hips up, collecting his come all on your stomach and dripping some down onto your inner thighs.

You can’t help but gawk at him as you watch him come undone, the way his brow furrowed and lips parted, the veins in his arm bulging as he stroked his cock.

He takes his length in his hand and rubs his red tip up and down your thighs, rubbing his come into your skin, spreading it around from your stomach to your legs. He slips back into you, slowly thrusting a few times before pulling back out.

“Holy shit,” you sigh as he lays down next to you, “that was…fucking hot.”

“You’re fucking hot,” he laughs.

He buries his head into your shoulder, leaving soft kisses across your skin.

“Um, can you get me a towel,” you laugh, gesturing to all the fluid on your lower half.

“Hmmm, no I don’t think so,” he jokes, “I think I want you right here, just like this for a while.”

“You certainly earned it,” you joke back before he hops up, grabbing a warm wet towel to wash you off with.

“Damn, well now I hope my water never comes back on,” you quip as he flops back down next to you.

“You are welcome to come use mine any time, even if yours is working fine.”

“You mean it?”

“Of course.”

#peter parker smut #spider man smut #spider man fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #spider man fic #smut #marvel smut #college au #ask #Anon #request #peter parker #spiderman smut #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader

866 notes · View notes

hazzastylesfanfics · 4 years ago

Text

Part 1/?

i’m back bitches

the maddness & boredom of this pandemic have finally hit so naturally i sat down to write for the first time in seven years .....

tell me if it’s shit/if i should continue !!

k thanks love u all <3

239 days. 239 days since him.

1 day. 1 day since him.

Some days I wonder if fate is real. I wonder if there really is a so-called “god” up there. Maybe there really is a divine power running my life, or maybe it’s all just one big shit show I’m struggling to keep together.

It’s 2 a.m. and I’m still pointlessly scrolling through Instagram looking at the same posts I’ve seen already. I open my profile and scroll through. Pictures of me posing with my friends, at wineries, and drunk nights out fill my feed. There’s no mention of him. I finally brought myself to delete them a few months back. I lock my phone and close my eyes. Sleep soon overtakes me.

The morning arrives far too early for my liking. Charlie is biting my hair, demanding her breakfast. I grab my phone to check the time: 5 a.m. I groan and pull the covers over my head hoping she’ll leave me alone. I just about fall back asleep when I hear a crash.

“Charlie, seriously?!” I sit up to see she’s shoved a candle off of my windowsill onto the ground and shattered it. “I swear to god, I’m gonna release you back into the wild,” I grumble.

She meows at me frantically until I give in and feed her. The thing they don’t tell you about getting a kitten is the fact you no longer run your life, the little spawn from hell does. She’s lucky she’s cute. I quickly sweep up the remains of my candle and fall back into bed.

Two hours later my alarm clock rudely awakens me for work. I feel like I’ve barely slept and one glance in the mirror confirms that feeling. A quick shower wakes me up just enough to drag my ass out the door.

I see my bus pulling away from my stop and frantically run toward it, shouting at the driver to stop. Maybe because it’s pouring rain or maybe because I look so distraught, but the driver takes pity on me and lets me hop on. I thank her as I sit in the nearest open seat. I’ve already been late to work three times in the past month and I can’t let Lana cover for me again.

The bus ride is a short one to the little coffee shop I’ve called work for over a year. It’s locally owned and loved by hipsters all around. I still wonder how I managed to get the job since I barely fit the bill of the “alternative” type that work alongside me. Lana was my first friend there. If you searched “Portland native” online, a picture of her would pop up. She’s adorable and dainty, covered in random tattoos she gets when she’s bored. She just dyed her hair blonde and cut her own blunt bangs. Her nose is decorated with a ring that she drunkenly tried to pierce herself, but I convinced her otherwise. She wears whatever the hell she feels like and exudes confidence in it all. She has the type of personality that draws you in but keeps you just enough at a distance to shroud her in mystery. I love the girl as much as I envy her.

We arrive at my stop and I thank the driver as I exit the bus. It’s still pouring so I run the two blocks to get to work. I see Lana happily chatting to a customer as I walk through the front door to the back room.

“Morning, Grey!” She chirps at me.

I drop my bag where there’s space and wash my hands before heading back out front.

“Jesus, girl, you look like hell,” Lana says as she thrusts a double espresso into my hands. “Rough night?”

“I was stuck with my own thoughts again.” I take a sip. It tastes more bitter than usual. “Also, Charlie decided my candle was much better in multiple pieces on the floor at 5 a.m.”

She laughs. “You still feel good about taking a stray in?”

“She was lonely and needed a home, okay?”

“Sucker,” Lana mumbles before turning her attention to the customer walking up to the front counter.

Thursday mornings always pass by fairly quickly. Customers are buzzing about Friday fast approaching, so most are in a pleasant mood. No amount of espresso can wake me up though. Some days I prefer zoning out and making drinks, especially days like this. Interactions with customers take it out of me. I don’t know how Lana does it so well.

“Erm, yeah, I’ll take a small black coffee, please.”

His voice instantly takes me out of my daydreams. That smooth, slow voice. I glance over at the register to see Lana helping the same guy that had captivated me two days earlier. Those chocolate brown curls look even softer than when I saw him in the bookstore. How the hell was that even possible? I stare for so long the milk I am steaming overflows onto my hand, burning me and eliciting a yelp. Lana and this beautiful man both turn their attention toward me. I laugh it off nervously and mumble something about being clumsy. Lana turns her attention back to the man, but he doesn’t break his gaze from me. He holds eye contact for another brief moment before thanking Lana for his coffee and dropping money into the tip jar. I am frozen in place, well aware that I need to stop staring like a fool.

I often visited Powell’s on my days off. It wasn’t hard to spend hours upon hours among the books, exploring each floor of the store. I rarely bought anything; I mostly came for the experience. I loved the smell of a new book. A thrill always came with picking up a random one and delving into what it had to offer between its two covers.

I was doing just that in the World Religions section when I heard his voice.

“Excuse me.”

My eyes snapped up from the current title intriguing me. There he was, clearly trying to get by me. I had absentmindedly parked myself in the middle of the aisle making it impossible for anyone to pass me. My ears grew hot as I mumbled an apology and took a step back.

He laughed lightly and glanced at the book in my hands. “Buddhism, huh? Let me know when you figure out the secret to enlightenment.” He chuckled again.

This is when I really got a good look at him. He was tall with lanky arms and legs to match, and a torso that looked like it never ended. He was wearing a tight black T-shirt that revealed many, many tattoos decorating his arms. My eyes instantly locked in on an anchor inked on the top of his left wrist. My exploration led me down to his hands, adorned with multiple rings. Finally, I brought my eyes up to his face. My god, did it take my breath away. His jaw was sharp and covered in stubble. His brunette curls sat atop his head in an impossibly perfect way. His smile though. I nearly dropped my book. If I believed in angels, they would have been singing at that moment.

I made a weak attempt at laughing and stumbled over my words, but nothing that resembled English came out of my mouth.

He flashed an even brighter smile and said, “Let me know if you need any recommendations.” And just like that, he turned the corner and disappeared. I didn’t realize I had been holding my breath until my chest started to hurt from the lack of air to my lungs. I bought the book in my hands and hurried out of the store.

He consumed my thoughts well into the night.

Now, as if a gift from the heavens above, this god is standing in my workplace. I suddenly become very aware of my lack of makeup and haphazard bun.

He catches my eyes once more before turning away from the register and walking out the front door. He was gone. I just let this act of god walk out the door and I would never see him again.

“Um, earth to Grey?” Lana playfully pokes me in the ribs.

“Huh, what? Shit.”

“You need me to finish up that cappuccino there?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” I robotically step back from the espresso machine and let her take over. She finishes the drink in less than a minute and apologizes to the visibly impatient customer as she hands it over the bar.

Lana turns to me. “Okay, what the hell was that?”

I stand with my mouth hanging open, still trying to grasp the past five minutes. “Well, long story short I think I royally fucked up letting that guy walk out the door.”

“You’re telling me, babe, he was gorgeous. Do you know him?” I detect a hint of jealously in her voice.

“No, uh, not really. We had a short interaction at Powell’s a couple of days ago but it was nothing. I made a fool out of myself more than anything.”

“And how do you think you did this time around?” Her laugh rings in my ears.

“Okay, in my defense he ambushed me at my workplace so that is not my fault!” I huff. “You weren’t much help either,” I point out.

“What was I supposed to do?” She is still laughing.

“I don’t know,” I mumble. “He was staring too though, right? That wasn’t my own delusion?”

“Oh yeah, babe he was staring alright. He looked like he wanted to take you right then and there on the counter.”

I bite my lip. That didn’t sound like half a bad idea. My ears grow hot at the thought.

I feel a gentle pinch on my arm and flinch away. “Hello! Grey! Hate to interrupt your fantasy but we have customers.” I glance over her shoulder to see a small line has built up.

Three o’clock finally rolls around and I’m free. Lana had gotten off an hour earlier than me, but couldn’t stay to talk more. My thoughts are too preoccupied with that handsome stranger to be much company anyway. The manic side of me wants to walk straight to Powell’s in hopes he would be there. I get ahold of myself however and make my way back to my apartment.

Charlie greets me with vigor the second I walk through the door. She seems to have gotten this idea that whenever I come home means dinnertime for her. When I don’t give in, she destroys shit. Exhibit A: this morning. It’s not like she’s starving. My neighbor had discovered this little kitty outside of the apartment complex one morning while taking her dog for a walk. The landlord only allows one animal per apartment, so she couldn’t keep her. At the time, Charlie practically sprouted angel wings and a halo so I couldn’t say no. A week into having her revealed her true nature: demon. She’s into everything all. of. the. time. She frequently digs the dirt out of my houseplants and eats it. Her favorite game is launching herself onto the screens in my windows to attack bugs. She even tries to shower with me. Despite her faults though, I can’t help but love her. Living by myself can be lonely. I find myself trying to have full conversations with her sometimes shortly before questioning my sanity.

I change into an oversized band tee and settle onto the brown leather sofa in my living room. Charlie jumps up beside me, purring loudly. I pull the yellow blanket neatly folded next to me onto my lap and try to shut my brain off. The rest of my shift exhausted me and thinking about that guy did not help much. I have to accept the fact that fate was really doing me a solid and in return, I gave it the finger. This beautiful stranger entered my life twice in 48 hours and I didn’t do a damn thing about it. Charlie climbs into my lap and curls into a ball, content.

I wake up hours later to a dark apartment. One glance at my phone reveals I dozed off longer than I intended to. Miraculously, Charlie let me sleep through her dinner. The moment she notices I am awake, she starts yowling at me for dinner. I oblige with a small scoop of food in her bowl. I then venture to the fridge and heat up leftover pasta for my meal. I sit at the small table in my narrow kitchen and stare out the window. My view isn’t much - just a look onto my neighbors’ balconies who also live in this complex. I make a mental note that the plants on the windowsill need water. I rinse out my bowl and leave it in the sink, not bothered to do the dishes tonight. I’m exhausted and welcome the softness of my bed.

I open the next morning and it feels like actual hell when my alarm goes off at 4:30. Charlie loves days I’m up this early though, she gets an early breakfast. I don’t bother to change out of the band tee I slept in and pull on a pair of ripped denim shorts. True to Oregon’s style, today is supposed to be a direct contrast of the previous day: blue skies and sunny. Summers in Portland never fail to keep me on my toes. I quickly fix my hair into messy French braid pigtails on either side of my head and throw on a coat of mascara for good measure.

I never have an issue with opening during the summer. The sun has risen enough that there is a soft morning light to guide me on my walk to the bus stop. Winters freak out because it’s pitch black and weird people ride the bus this early in the morning.

The shop is dark when I arrive. I turn my key in the lock, step in, and lock it behind me. The one time I forgot to do this, a homeless person wandered in and refused to leave. He didn’t want anything, just continued to have a conversation with himself. I always make sure to double-check the door now. I turn on the lights and flip on the espresso machine. I set up the freshly baked pastries in the front case in an attractive manner. Just as I open the register to count the till I hear a tap on the front door. I don’t look up. It’s either a customer trying to come in early or another homeless person. I quietly count each bill out loud, enter the opening total, and tap “open” on the screen. Again, I hear a knock on the door. I look up in irritation. Whoever thinks they need their coffee this early in the morning can wait another 15 minutes until I formally open the doors.

Fuck.

Shit.

Fuck.

It’s him.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #one direction fanfiction #one direction fanfic #one direction fic #one direction imagine #harry styles #harry

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moodyoranged · 4 years ago

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parker & demi

big spoon/little spoon: parker big spoon but open minded.

favorite non-sexual activity: i mean they love watching the big game they just do. i think specifically i see them as the kind of couple who’s able to host a big game party where they have their friends over and have a bunch of snacky appetizer type foods and they just hang out and drink and get into being sporty.

who uses all the hot water: demi if anyone because parker takes brisk lukewarm showers, as something is wrong with his brain.

most trivial thing they fight over: i feel like they’re both proud people with strong convictions and could get in fights over really trivial things because of it like sports squabbles but also like chunky v smooth peanut butter. they just have their things they’ve latched onto. she’s a girlboss he’s a boyboss it happens.

what has a season pass on their dvr/who controls the netflix queue: demi. parker is an insane person who never independently watched much tv or movies but i think that if like demi was watching something he’d slowly get pulled in. i just think he’s the kind of man that would watch grey’s anatomy or drag race or something that Wouldn’t Be Expected of him with his woman and get really fucking into it while he’s at it.

who calls up the super/landlord when the heat’s not working: parker the man but demi i feel totally would he just takes it upon himself to fill that role

who steals the blankets: demi. stealing the blankets is just hot girl shit. so she gets away with it every damn time.

who leaves their stuff around: parker. i think he gets better with time as he stabilizes and like settles into a more domestic life with demi, but he would have been something bad while they were dating and he was still travelling for work all the time just a mess of leaving shit at her place and then making sure it was all cleaned up and moved out by the time he left again slipping his list of priorities. but perhaps she can remember him fondly by his backup deodorant in her bathroom and random branded water bottle while he’s gone.

who remembers to buy the milk: demi. parker’s had one too many head injuries.

who remembers anniversaries: i think they both remember the big ones and they don’t really ooh and aww over the little ones.

who cooks normally?: they feel like big time eating out people but i think they’d both be competent enough at cooking. parker perhaps even likes it. but that doesn’t make it less easy to just put in a doordash order.

how often do they fight?: real genuine fights, i don’t feel like much. like i think they can bicker over little things but ultimately know how to communicate and be direct in a way that can mitigate a lot of like fight fights.

what do they do when they’re away from each other?: i think they keep in good touch texting/snapchat are their friends. like i don’t see them as long time facetime/phone call people, they prefer the convenience of being able to check out text/sexts/what have you on their own time, because they both keep pretty busy schedules.

nicknames for each other?: i see them as a very basic pet name kind of people.... babe people specifically but a sarcastic darling or baby here and there too.

who is more likely to pay for dinner?: parker i think would insist but there could also be a lot of going dutch in there. demi is a girlboss who could pay but i think perhaps the bigger girlboss move is letting him handle all that.

what would they get each other for gifts?: i think like the kind of home stuff that’s practical but fun and always a little on point like in that way where it just feels like perfect. like oh of course you read my mind and found this one weirdly specific kitchen gadget i had been thinking about.

who kissed who first?: demi have no reason to say it but i feel it.

who made the first move?: parker, the man simply does not have the brains to not try and shoot his shot with a woman on the job that he encounters. he’d be like nice and respectful about it but ultimately forward with wanting to make something happen there.

who remembers things?: again big stuff i think they both hold onto but little things really do just go to demi he’s just not the best at keeping track of things that don’t imprint on his brain hard.

who cusses more?: parker? but maybe demi maybe she’s a whiskey in a teacup kind of girl if u know what i mean.

#loveback #yeah i did drop a few im sorry but also . they felt kinda repeaty or i just had no clue #meme reply.#demi & parker.

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prorevenge · 5 years ago

Text

Former nerd destroys bully's life

This is a story about my older sister. My sister is a super kind and smart person. In high school, she was a typical “nerd”. Never really cared about her clothes really and stuck to her studies and extra-curricular. Her general style was pulling her hair in a pony-tail, jeans, shirt and sweater/jacket. In her class, there were a group of popular girls that made it their life job to make my sister’s life miserable. Think real-life Mean Girls (Regina George and all). Every time I talked to her about it, I could tell in her eyes it hurt her but she just told me she was ok and she’ll just keep ignoring them. One day, Regina and her minions, spread a rumor about my sister being a slut. Telling everyone she acts innocent but has actually slept with a bunch of guys and even hit on teachers. This rumor spread to all of the students and the staff. I texted my sister when I heard about it and she told me she was fine but when I saw her at home later that night, it was obvious she had been crying. The school called my parents about the whole ordeal. The administration knew that it was all B.S. but still had to do investigate since it involved teachers. My sister and even the administration knew who would spread this kind of rumor, but there was no proof since it was all word of mouth. The teachers knew that those group of girls were not nice but they never did anything this messed up before. My sister confronted Regina and all she said was, “you are a loser and losers deserve a crappy life. Deal with it!”

My sister went on to graduate as the class valedictorian and went to Cambridge in the UK for her undergraduate and graduated magna cum laude and then went to Harvard Law. She worked for a few years at some big law firm but eventually started her own practice back in the area we grew up in with her now husband.

One day she gets a mother and her daughter into her office and asks about suing the landlord of the apartment complex the mother was living in. They said that the premises have not been upkept, has hazardous living conditions and repairs are rarely done and when they are done, they’re not done well. For example, when a water pipe burst, the plumber didn’t replace any of the old pipes and instead just patched with adhesives like duct tape and gorilla tape because the to fully repair the ordeal would take a few days so the management company just patched it up. My sister goes on to find out that the management company is owned none other than by Regina’s family and that the complex had been falling apart ever since Regina’s father retired and Regina decided to take over despite not knowing how to run the company. Over the course of a few months, my sister found out that it was not just this one complex but three out of the four complexes the company managed were in terrible condition and my sister’s firm was able to get about 60% of the residents to file for a class action lawsuit. The list of things that were messed up in these places was astronomical. The fire sprinkler system didn’t work, a huge backlog of repairs needed to be done in the apartments, signs of mold were even sprouting in certain areas with more moisture, and rodent infestation. The only thing they didn’t have were termites. On top of that, there were reports of multiple break-ins in the complexes as the security contractors were no longer working for them. Everything was documented with pictures, police reports and sworn witness statements from current and previous tenants, contractors previously hired, previous employees, and expert witnesses. The case mounted against Regina’s company was basically ironclad. My sister never forgot that rumor and if there was even an opportune moment for her to get back at Regina, it would be now so my sister made it her mission to get anything and everything out of Regina for wronging these people. Initially, Regina's attorneys wanted to settle out of court but since Regina was stubborn and also not too bright, she didn’t want to settle and decided to fight back. As the defendant, Regina’s claim was that all of the problems were caused by the plaintiffs and they were trying to fraud her.

Case eventually went to trial, despite Regina’s attorney wanting to settle out of court. On the first day of court, my sis was nervous about Regina recognizing her, however, it seemed like Regina didn’t remember her at all. Throughout the trial, my sister’s firm produced expert witness after expert witness about how all the damage to the property was caused by negligence and any repairs that were done, were not done properly. Former employees testified how Regina cut costs by reducing critical maintenance staff and expecting the left-over staff to take care of everything. When they couldn’t keep up with the backlog, she fired the people and hired unqualified replacements. The only complex that was maintained well was the one she lived in and she spared no expense to remodel her unit with new appliances and luxuries and also had a bunch of her friends live there too either discounted heavily or free.

At the end of the trial, Regina was found guilty on all accounts and ordered to fix everything or the complexes will be shut down. The judge also ordered that no one was allowed to live there while the repairs were being made so she had to pay for all of the current tenants’ relocation to hotels AND the repairs for an entire month. There were over 300 residents. The costs for everything would cost Regina over $2 million dollars, assuming they don’t find more things wrong and need to extend the repairs. If she had just settled with the plaintiffs, in the beginning, it would have cost her less than $500k. Regina broke down outside of the courthouse and was screaming at her attorneys. When she caught sight of my sister, she ran over and started screaming obscenities at her. My sister put up a hand to quiet her and said to her face, “you are a loser, and losers deserve a crappy life. Deal with it.” And walked away. Regina’s face got bright red for a moment and then the light bulb finally went off, as she realized who my sister is. The same nerd girl she bullied and has now destroyed her life.

Aftermath. Regina’s dad had zero idea of what was going on. After he retired, he moved to out of the country to live abroad and by the time he found out the company he built was falling apart, it was a bit too late. He eventually came back to fire Regina and re-establish his company and hired the right people to run the company.

(source) story by (/u/edwadokun)

#prorevenge #by /u/edwadokun #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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zenosanalytic · 5 years ago

Text

Good and Ridiculous

I’m not a great aficionado of Emma adaptations(aside from Clueless, of course uvu), I’ve always been more of a Pride&Prejudice viper myself uwu uwu, but Emma(2020) by Autumn de Wilde is really Very Good. My immediately impressions:

A good tagline to this would be “everybody thinks they know what they’re doing, and everybody’s wrong” u_u

shrinking and removing the written age gaps was a Very Good Idea, though there is ONE SCENE, where Elton snubs Harriet by dodging a dance with her via the excuse that he is “an old married man”(while being both young and only recently married), where having Knightley be a much older man(and a “confirmed bachelor” at that, long publicly disinterested in courting and marriage) absolutely adds to the scene, as having a genuinely older man publicly asking her after such a slight not only shows his compassion but also acts as an absolutely ruthless, and again Very Public, incineration of Elton(you are a MAN of the CLOTH for heaven’s sake!).

This version of Emma is a VERY rare example of a movie which presents marriage NOT as a breaking of families, but as a realization and binding together and growing of both families and communities. Admittedly that’s already there in Emma itself(every step in Emma’s path to marrying Knightley is her realizing and then abandoning the folly of her arrogance&condescension, then to truly value, and so reinforce, her connections to others), but de Wilde does an Excellent job of foregrounding that in this adaptation, espcl with the comic-lovablness of Emma’s father(played wonderfully by Bill Nighy here) and with her friendship with Harriet, and with a real&sensitive subtlety as well.

to wit: the treatment of his(and his oldest daughter, Isabelle’s) fear of illness. This is played to (sometimes brutal)hilarity throughout... and then the out-of-hand drop that Emma’s mother died of a sudden illness. The comedicness is never sacrificed and yet the realness and continuing presence and depth of that pain and fear is not only conveyed, but looking back you see it in what of the film you’ve already watched, and it explains all of it so heartbreakingly. And to then build off of that by showing -purely through Nighy’s physical acting- how Emma’s marriage is reworked to care for that pain(again, building on the theme, to strengthen her connections rather than sever them) is just really done so movingly.

Another good tagline for this movie: “Everyone is both Good and Ridiculous” u_u

And speaking of Nighy, there’s this exQUISITE look of surprise/dismay/disgust he gives a painting while touring Knightly’s house that had me in stitches. I had to stop the movie, rewind, and watch it again four times. I Loved It, Entirely u-u u-u u-u

Obvsl this is a comedy, and Obvsl it’s focused on the lives of the landed and monied aristocracy(mostly petit, though Emma&her father seem to be big fish in their little pond), but Austen was an astute observer of class in her day(if primarily focused on class-precarity WITHIN the gentry), and de Wilde does a good job of emphasizing this without straying from the source-material or breaking the setting? I mean: it’s certainly not a focus of the story, but that aspect is sort of implicitly conveyed by the filmmaking?? Idk; I was impressed by it but can’t really put it into detailed words, I need to think on it, probably read on it, and very likely watch it again.

speaking of the fish metaphor, de Wilde does an EXCELLENT job of using the Jane Fairfax:Emma Woodhouse::Frank Churchill:Mr. Knightley dyads to examine these issues. Obvsl, to point out Emma’s LACK of the refinement and society she aspires to(pointedly in the body of a fortuneless orphan who, by pure misadventure, just happened to grow up in London where she can be educated to the level Emma, as a provincial[albeit only a mere 16 miles from town] never could), but also, I would say, through Frank and Knightley. Frank isn’t treated unsympathetically as a cad here; the performance is certainly caddish, but there’s a(again X|) subtle sense of his rakish behavior being a ruse to divert attention from himself, Jane Fairfax, and their connection. One could surmise that, having spent so many years in London, he’s aware that ppl are always watching, and talking, and how easily information can get back to ppl who might hurt him with it(namely, his aunt who wants to use him to climb higher through an even wealthier marriage). Knightley, in contrast, is blunt and earnest because he can AFFORD to be; his fortune is secure in Himself, the Land he owns, and its productivity. Likewise, he can AFFORD to interact with his tenants, in a way someone like Emma or Frank is too concerned to do, because that interaction is economic for him and thus not only expected but praised in a landlord. OK the more I think abt this the more stuff I come up with, so I’ll stop there and with the observation that, really, it’s not a dyad but a triad with Harriet&Mr. Martin thrown in to each grouping(and also that Knightley and Emma are likewise examinations/critiques of each other).

This is a Very Funny movie.

This is a Very Painful to Watch movie, if you strongly feel second hand embarrassment.

Mr. Elton is the WORST.

Mrs. Elton is the WORST(until she’s not, and you realize Emma’s just kind of a snob).

Emma just straight-up disemboweled Miss Bates. That was VICIOUS. Like, seriously, the filmmaking around that scene really emphasized the cruelty of her comment, espcl in that context, it was So Excellent uwu

Ok, I understand now how ballroom dancing was, at one time, Very Horny(again: very good filmmaking: I’ll leave it at that u_u u_u)

Also very good casting&directing. Anya Taylor-Joy as Emma obvsl just grabs the camera in every scene she’s in, effortlessly, like she’s the Flipping Sun and it’s a sunflower, but everyone here is knocking it out of the park, constantly.

MIRANDA HART! Miranda Hart as Miss Bates is a Fucking Revelation >:| >:|

Emma/Harriet is Real u_u u_u so, So, SO Real u_u u_u u_u

Honestly I want a Queer reimagining/rewriting of this story Very Much u_u u_u

Emma’s a Rose u_u

ok Im gonna stop there

#Emma(2020)#Autumn de Wilde #Long Post #zA Reviews #Cinema #Movie Reviews #zA Commentary #zA Opinions #Comedy #Rose Lalonde #Gr8 Art #analytic posts

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combeauferre · 4 years ago

Note

9, 15 or 44 for the writing prompts (or all combined👀)

9 - there’s only one bed and we sleep as far away as possible from each other but wake up cuddling

15 - drunkenly confessing feelings

44 - i’m your new neighbour and i got locked out, help!

The first time Dan meets Phil, he’s not impressed. It’s 11pm, he’s tired, and he’s settling down in bed to browse the internet for a few hours. He’s comfortable, and he doesn’t have any reason to move. Until he hears the doorbell go.

He groans as loud as he can, loud enough that he hopes the person at the door can hear him, and trudges out in his pyjamas. When he opens the door, he doesn’t recognise the person stood outside.

“Hi,” the person says sheepishly. “I’m new here. Phil. I uh. Locked myself out.”

Dan tries his best not to huff. He really does. But he is so tired, and the last thing he wanted was to have to ring his landlord for someone else’s fucking problem. The sigh leaves his mouth before he can stop it, and he immediately feels guilty. Phil’s face drops and he begins to mumble apologies after apologies. He didn’t mean to lock himself out, Dan supposes. He grumbles something about it being okay, and begrudgingly sits down next to Phil on the floor outside his door to wait for the landlord.

He wishes it wasn’t true, but Dan really is growing fond of Phil. He’d brought Dan some chocolates and fancy coffee to make up for the locked out incident, and since then they see each other a lot. If one of them is going to the shop, they ask the other if they need anything. They get each other’s post if they’re going to the lobby. They say good morning when they pass each other. And Dan can’t pretend that Phil isn’t cute as fuck. Maybe he has a bit of a crush. But just a tiny one.

Phil: Dan I’m so sorry you won’t believe what’s happened

Dan rolls his eyes. It’s 1am, and he’s not sure he’s ready for the story.

Dan: what did u do

Phil: Locked myself out again :(

Dan: ffs

“I’m not ringing John again,” Dan says as he opens the door to find Phil stood there.

“What am I gonna do?” Phil asks, from where he’s slumped by his door. Dan rolls his eyes.

“Come in, idiot.”

Dan only has chairs in his apartment, and no sofa, so he tells Phil he can join Dan in his bed. There’s no real problem with it, he decides, as long as they stay as far away from each other as possible. Which they do, within the confines of Dan’s duvet.

When Dan wakes up in the morning, he’s sweaty. Sweaty and warm, and there’s another body pressed up against him. His legs are tangled into Phil’s, he can feel his hair twitch with Phil’s breath, and his own forehead is tucked into the crook of Phil’s neck. He’s comfortable, more comfortable than he’d like to admit. And he doesn’t want to move.

When Phil stirs, his arms tighten around Dan’s body and he murmurs a “gmorning”, a hand finding its way into Dan’s hair and scratching there. Dan sighs and mutters a good morning as well, and they begrudgingly shuffle apart as they wake up.

Dan: wanna get drunk

Phil: What’s the occasion?

Dan: i got fired

Phil buys some cheap vodka and coke from the shop before he heads to Dan’s apartment. Dan looks tired but indifferent as he opens the door, and welcomes Phil in gladly.

“What happened?” Phil asks as he follows Dan through to the kitchen.

“I failed another mystery shopper,” Dan says with a shrug. “The guy looked about thirty, I don’t know how the fuck he was seventeen.” He sighs. “They said I won’t get fined since I lost the job, at least.”

He gets them each a glass and they sit down on the floor in Dan’s lounge, drinking way too strong vodka cokes. Somewhere through the night, Dan starts to cry.

“What if I can’t find another job?” he sniffs. “I gotta pay my fucking rent.”

“Dan, you will,” Phil says with a slur. “Come here.” He pats his lap and Dan moves without any more encouragement, bracketing Phil’s legs with his own as he flops down on to Phil.

“You’re pretty,” he says sadly as he looks down at his hands. Phil laughs.

“You’re pretty,” he counters. Dan rolls his eyes.

“No, Phil. You are pretty.” He pokes at Phil’s chest. “And you’re funny. I wanted to fucking hate you when we met. You and your fucking keys.”

Phil laughs.

“I still feel bad,” he says, pushing Dan’s chest back.

“Don’t,” Dan says with a shrug. “Liked meeting you. Like you, Phil.”

“Like you too, Dan.”

“No,” Dan says, shaking his head. “Like you, Phil. Wanna kiss you ‘n shit.”

Phil laughs.

“Wanna kiss you too.”

Dan looks up at him a little dazed, and leans forward without a second thought. It’s a sloppy kiss, and it turns into sloppy making out. But that’s okay. There’s time for good kissing once they’re sober.

#thank u dana!#i always wanted to write there's only one bed #:')#abie answers #dansstripedsweater #abie writes #dnp

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lovemesomesurveys · 4 years ago

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A How artistic are you? I’m not at all. Do you want to go to Africa? I’d love to stay at Giraffe Manor! AC/DC or Aerosmith? Aerosmith.  Do you know what Armenia is?  Yes.

B  What’s your beer of choice (if any)? Blech, none. Do you know the title of Buffalo Springfield’s one-hit wonder? Okay, I didn’t recognize the name so I Googled it and yes, I am familiar with their one hit wonder. I actually wasn’t familiar with the song title either, but after reading the lyrics I quickly realized what song it was. Do you have a brother? (Do you like it that way?) I have two brothers, and yes I love them. Which bank do you use? Not sharing that. C  Which comedian do you most enjoy? I think Kevin Hart is funny. Would you ever live in California? I have all my life. Is it possible/likely that you’ll become a cat lady? *Dog lady, but yes. How many different countries have visited? Just one. D  Do you believe there’s a devil? Yes. But demons maybe? Yes. Does eating dessert often make you feel guilty? Nope. Can you legally drive? I’m definitely old enough to have my license, but I don’t. What have you been diagnosed with (if you don’t mind sharing)? Depression, anxiety, and other physical health stuff. E  How often do you drink energy drinks? I like to drink Starbucks Doubleshot energy drinks often.  Where did you live when you were 11 years old? The house next door to where I live now, ha. We had our big move to the house next door to us haha about 10 years ago because our landlords wanted to install new flooring and stuff to our house, but since they had just finished this one they offered for us to just move in here lol. Do you like the actor who played Edward Scissorhands in that movie?  Why not just say Johnny Depp? Anyway, yes, I think he’s a very talented actor. Have you ever felt an earthquake? No, just aftershocks from one. F  When was the last time you saw your father one-on-one? Yesterday. Do you think French is the most beautiful language? I don’t know what I’d say is the most beautiful language. Is Friday your favorite day of the week? No. All the days are the same for me, so meh. Have you listened to Jimi’s song ‘Fire?’ Doesn’t sound familiar. G  Do you have real gold jewelry? No. How often do you watch ‘Gossip Girl’? I never have. Is Google your homepage? Yeah.  Do you like Geico’s commercials? Most of them are annoying. The gecko character is cute, though. H  When did you last feel happy? Uhhh. Do you prefer Hollister, Hot Topic, or H&M? Hot Topic is the only one I shop at now, but I used to shop at the other 2 as well. Did you dress up last Halloween? Nope. I stopped doing that a few years ago. Would you voluntarily watch the History Channel? Yeah and I do if there’s something of interest on. I  Have you ever been on an island? No. I live on one in Animal Crossing, though. ha. Would you be able to locate Indonesia on a globe? I think so. Do you know if Iceland or Greenland has more ice? Greenland. I remember it’s the opposite of their name for some reason.  Did you watch the last presidential inauguration? No. J  Do you enjoy jogging? No. On which instrument could you most easily play ‘Jingle Bells’? I’ve played it on the piano. How much do you know about John Lennon? *shrug* I know some stuff. Do you know how Jell-O is made? I know how to make Jell-O with the mix, but no I don’t know how the mix itself is made. K  Have you tried Krispy Kreme doughnuts? (Was it love at first bite?) Yeah, but no they’re definitely not my favorite. They’re not real donuts to me, they’re just pure sugar.  How many pairs of khaki pants do you own? “Uh, khakis?” ha, if you know, you know. Anyway, I don’t own any.  Have you ever been a fan of the Killers? Yeah. L  Does it bother you when couples are lovey-dovey in public? No, unless they’re having like full on makeout sessions, straddling each other and feeling each other up and whatnot lol. Hand holding/locked arms/arm around each other, hugging, little pecks, and just being playful with each other is cute.  Do you have your own lighter (why or why not)? No. I don’t have a need for one. In how many languages (besides English) can you count to 100? I can in Spanish. What’s your favorite lollipop flavor? Not a lollipop fan. M  Do you believe in miracles (why or why not)? I do because I'm a woman of faith. What do you think of shows like Maury and Jerry Springer? I used to like watching Maury, Jerry Springer was just for laughs.  Do you care that Mars (the candy co.) uses deadly animal testing? I haven’t heard that... I’d have to fact check. How did you form your opinion of marijuana? Based off the research supporting that it has a lot of benefits. I was especially swayed when I saw how it helped cancer patients.

N  How often do you sleep naked? Never. I wouldn’t find that comfortable at all, I very much like being clothed. Do you actually check the Nutrition Facts before eating something? Not usually, but I sometimes will just out of curiosity.  Who is your favorite musical artist/band beginning with ‘N’? Nirvana.  How nerdy are you (in what ways)? I’m socially awkward, for one. I also cared about school and did well, which is often considered nerdy. Also, a book nerd, Star Wars nerd, Marvel and DC movies nerd... I enjoy those things so I don’t care, but they’re deemed “nerdy.” What do you think about olives? Black olives are good, green olives are gross. Are you much of an outdoorsy person? Not at all. The only time I enjoy being outside is when I’m sitting out at the beach. How big of an Oprah fan are you? I don’t really consider myself a fan. How often do you shop online?  Quite often. P  Are you looking forward to your prom? If you already went, how was it? My prom was over a decade ago D: Anyway, I danced with the guy I had a huge crush on at the time, so hey it wasn’t too bad. How are your local policemen? I think they do a pretty good job overall. What is your ideal PB&J sandwich like? Just peanut butter and grape jelly, pretty simple. What do you think of the movie ‘Pineapple Express’? I could not get into that movie at all. Q  How true is the saying, ‘quitters never win and winners never quit’? I mean, can’t say “never”, but the main point from the saying makes sense. Do you prefer Quiznos or Subway and why? I’ve gone to Subway many times, but I think I’ve only been to a Quiznos once or twice. Have you learned the quadratic formula yet? (Do you remember it?) I think I actually remember it. What is the one question you most want to ask someone and who?  I don’t know. R  How many rooms are in your home? 2 bedrooms.  Do you like raspberries?  Nah. What’s one of your best memories from during a rain storm? Hmm. I don’t know, but I just really love that kind of weather.  Have you actually read Shakespeare’s ‘Romeo & Juliet’? Yeah, my freshman year in high school. S  Do you know any Sign Language? I know the alphabet and a few sayings. What is your sleeping schedule generally like? Oh, my sleeping schedule is an absolute joke. How well do you sing? I can’t sing well at all. How often do you listen to 60-70’s music? Now and then. I actually have several songs on my main Spotify playlist from those decades. T What do you think of Twitter? I like being able to post my random thoughts and following certain celebrities and just interesting people for funny and interesting stuff. How much do you value the Ten Commandments? I value them a lot. Are there many trees where you live? Not really.  How much taller/shorter do you wish to be? “I wish I was a little bit taller.” 🎶

U  Where do you usually buy your underwear? Various places. How do you define ‘ugly’? It goes a lot deeper than just the outer appearance. Do you like to shop at Urban Outfitters? I’ve only been to an actual store a couple times and I’ve checked out their website a few times, but I just think they’re ridiculously overpriced. V  Would you like being described as ‘voluptuous’? No one would use that word to describe me.  For listening to music, do you like to crank up the volume or keep it calm? I like it at a reasonable level, I don’t need it blaring. Do you ever watch the annual Victoria’s Secret fashion show? They cancelled that a few years ago, but I never had any interest in watching that.  Would you agree that ‘variety is the spice of life’? Yeah. W  Are you currently on wireless Internet? Yeah, that’s all I have. I haven’t had to connect to a wifi router or whatever with a cord in a very long time. Can you recall memories of learning how to whistle? I still can’t do it. Do you go to White Castle or just vicariously through ‘Harold & Kumar'? I’ve never actually been to one cause they don’t have one anywhere near me (they’re on the east coast, I’m a west coast gal). I’ve only had the the White Castle burgers from the store that you cook in the microwave. I actually like them, but I’m sure the real deal is even better. X  Why did you need your most recent x-ray and what were the results? I had to get a CT Scan a couple years ago. When it comes to ‘xoxo’, do you interpret ‘x’ as the hug or the kiss? It’s hugs and kisses, so the X’s are hugs. What does X stand for in Roman numerals? Can you write the previous number? X is 10, IX is 9. Why do you think xylophones are only popular with young children? That’s true, that is a pretty common baby toy. At least it was when I was little. Also, I played the xylophone in music class in elementary school. I don’t know why that’s a thing with kids. Y  Can you explain the meaning of the yin-yang symbol? Opposite, but complimentary principles. Like, you can’t have good without bad, lightness without darkness, etc. It’s about balance. Do people more often mistake you as being younger or older than you are? Younger. Did you know that yawning is contagious? Yeah. Would you like a bottle of Yoo-Hoo or it’s not really your thing? I actually like Yoo-Hoo, but I prefer it in the little carton or whatever with the straw (kinda like a Capri Sun, but it’s a box carton). It’s the perfect size, not too much. The strawberry one is my favorite. I haven’t had one in a long time, though. Z  How many places’ zip codes do you know by heart? Uhh, not many. What comes to mind when I say ‘Zero to Hero’? Disney’s Hercules movie.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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knightowl725 · 5 years ago

Text

Healing in a Graveyard, Ch. 4

Fandom: Critical Role

A continuation of my work for Fjorclay Week 2020′s modern au prompt. I make some important notes about really the whole fic on the ao3 post. Short version: Landlords dating tenants is not cool, at all. I’ve been writing this with the knowledge that Caduceus wouldn’t abuse that power dynamic. But in the real world? Everyone should make their own choices, but I, personally, do not condone it.

Read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23828932/chapters/57397261

Chapter Four: Pink Blossoms

He awoke in the morning to the sound of metallic clanging.

“It’s breakfast ti~ime,” Jester’s cheery voice sang from outside his door as she banged - what? Pots and pans? - together. “It’s time to wake u~up!”

He heard distant, high-pitched cursing from the direction of Nott’s room, followed by a giggle from Jester and her thudding back down the stairs.

Fjord threw himself out of bed, slinking into the bathroom for just a few moments to wake himself up. He’d slept like shit. Hadn’t he set an alarm to wake up early? Caduceus had said he could help out later in the day so he could sleep in, but he’d still wanted to be up for meditation.

So much for that.

Fjord made his way downstairs and through the kitchen into the dining room, where everyone but Nott was settling around a wide array of breakfast foods. There were tall stacks of pancakes, waffles, piles of fruit, syrup in different flavors, breakfast sandwiches, bagels, and more laid out, all in their vegan varieties. Fjord wasn’t sure about the vegan version of some of these items, but after everything else he’d eaten that week, he was willing to try.

Caduceus stood nearby, having just set down the final plate of food. He looked rather pleased with himself in his purple apron. A bit of light from the window was falling on his face just so, and Fjord thought that he looked rather handsome in that image.

Which was a weird thought, and one he squashed back down. He didn’t need to get into that weird admiration-crush area right now. In fact, it might be the exact last thing he needed.

Fjord took his seat, Nott following shortly after. They all tore into the food, shockingly quiet for a few moments as everyone was lost to the joys of breakfast. What had seemed to Fjord like a ridiculous amount of food turned out not to be, as the Nein neatly polished it off.

“That was so good Caduceus,” Beau said, slouching a bit with a hand on her stomach.

The others echoed their thanks to a pleased Caduceus. Fjord couldn’t help the thought that Caduceus was the kind who needed people to fret over. He supposed the Nein was about as perfect a match as any.

Fjord considered spending his day studying, maybe trying to look at job postings. The thought reminded him of his rough night, of regretting ever leaving The Champions’ house even temporarily. But now, in the light of day and with a stomach full of pastries, he wondered if maybe it wasn’t the right choice. Maybe, if there was such a thing as fate, he was meant to be here now. Surrounded by friends, with the only stranger becoming a fast friend as well, in a beautiful nature escape, under the eye of a goddess that asks you to protect and preserve rather than consume and destroy.

Any of his plans for the day were dashed by his friends, who coaxed him into joining them at a pop up carnaval. It was a day full of Jester-levels of chaos, spurred on by Nott that he gave up trying to contain after about an hour. At one point, Caleb had gone off to read, Beau was trying to impress Jester by winning her a giant unicorn plush at a game, Nott was on top of a popcorn stand, and Yasha was showing a juggler how to actually perform.

He took a deep sigh, pulled out his phone, and recorded a clip of all of his friends in their shenanigans to send to Molly. Then, on a whim, he sent it to Caduceus as well. He was kinda part of the group now, right? That was the impression Fjord got, even if Caduceus couldn’t join them today. Visiting his sister, he’d said.

By the time they made it back to the Xhorhaus, everyone still laughing and jostling one another, it was nearly sunset.

Caduceus was sitting in his rocking chair, wearing an endearing straw hat that made Fjord smile instinctively.

“Caduceus~!” Jester called out. “The carnival was so much fun. Look what Beau won me!”

She raised the over-stuffed unicorn plush high overhead with pride.

“You should join us next time,” Fjord said.

He smiled wide, eyes crinkling. “I’d like that.”

He stood up, a little slowly as though he’d been sitting for a while. “Would you all mind very much if we fended for ourselves for dinner? I’m rather tired today.”

There was a chorus of, “of course!” and “no problem!” from the group as they poured inside.

“Ah, Fjord? Could I speak with you for a moment?” Caduceus asked. Fjord paused, then stepped out of the way of the others. Had he done something wrong?

Ah, shit. He’d forgotten.

“Right. I still need to earn my keep for today,” he said with a little laugh. “What should I work on?”

“It’s not that,” he said, distracted and gazing off across the Grove. “Actually, I’d like to skip our project work today, if you don’t mind. We can call it even.”

“Caduceus, are you alright? I mean, it’s not that I’m not grateful for a break, but you seem...tired.”

He met Fjord’s eyes to smile. “I am a bit worn out today, I’m afraid. But just tired. Calliope’s gym is very busy on the weekends. Too many people.”

Ah, that made sense. Fjord wasn’t bothered by crowds too much most days, but it was obvious that Caduceus, while sociable and friendly, was a more introverted man. In fact, it was a little strange to imagine the towering pink firbolg anywhere other than in the Grove.

“Of course. Is there anything I could do to help?” Fjord asked. “I could try making you something to eat? I’m, uh, not familiar with much vegan cooking, but I’m sure I could put together some of those sandwiches you left out the other day? The moss ones?”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t impose--”

“I insist. We could call it my work for the day, if need be.”

Caduceus considered it. “Well, alright. I would appreciate it, Fjord.”

Fjord stepped towards the door. “You get settled again. I’ll bring out some food and tea, and then we can talk.”

“Right, thank you.”

Fjord disappeared indoors, suddenly daunted by the idea of cooking anything for Caduceus. And he offered to make tea? Caduceus was the type to make tea properly, to brew it at the perfect temperature for the exact amount of time that particular tea required.

He ventured into the kitchen, carefully sifting through the shelves so as not to upset Caduceus’s inscrutable system. He found the sandwich ingredients easily enough - it was the kind of recipe you could piece together just by looking at the meal. The tea he relied on the Internet for. A search told him honey lemon tea might be an easy one to make. He watched a quick tutorial and made himself meticulous notes.

After a bit of time, he had two plates of sandwiches, neatly cut in half, and two cups of tea. He placed them strategically on a large tray with a little saucer of honey, a tiny spoon, and a sliced lemon. He’d noticed Caduceus often added them to his teas, so hopefully that would be enough if he hadn’t gotten the flavor right.

Caduceus was still outside, his empty tea cup on the little rounded table, slightly unbalanced. Fjord set down the tray, shifting it so Caduceus’s half was closest to him, then sitting on the bench.

“Thank you, Fjord,” Caduceus said.

“I hope I did it justice.”

“I’m certain you did. You’re a quick learner.”

They enjoyed a quiet moment, the warmth of the day beginning its shift into a cool night.

“Did you enjoy the carnival?” Caduceus asked after a few moments, his sandwiches gone and tea between his hands. He always held it up to his chest like that, especially when he was sitting idly. It was a little cute.

“Yes, though it was tiring in its own way,” Fjord said. “You may have seen the video I sent.”

Caduceus chuckled. “I showed Calliope, and she got a good laugh out of that. Still can’t puzzle out why Nott was up on the popcorn stand.”

“I think the vendor said something that offended her? I don’t know.”

“Ah, that reminds me,” Caduceus said, straightening a bit. “I needed to talk to you.”

“Right.” Fjord felt the pit in his stomach return.

“Calliope runs a gym, and she has a few people she’s brought on staff,” he said. “She’s very proud, we all are. She normally spends her time between all the tasks, training, running the business, working reception, and the like. But she’s gotten a bit overwhelmed with the gym’s success.”

“Understandable,” Fjord said.

Caduceus nodded. “She told me she’s been having a hard time finding people she likes to help her out more. She really wants to find a part-time receptionist. I think she had one already, but she needs another. I mentioned I knew someone looking for work, and how you’d been helping me all week.”

“Oh,” Fjord said, unable to form any words beyond that.

Caduceus tilted his head thoughtfully. “She asked a lot of questions, most I couldn’t really answer, but she wanted to know if you’d like to speak with her about the job.”

“Oh, wow. Okay.”

“I told her I would ask, but that you might have other things planned. I don’t want to assume or push anything on you, but I do think you would like working at the gym. And it’s important to Calliope that her employees be, at least, accepting of the Wildmother, and I know you’ve been respectful of Her.”

“Of-of course.” Fjord took a deep breath. A job? The pay couldn’t be worse than it was at the cafe, so as long as he got the same minimum hours...Which it sounded like the gym was doing well enough to need him around a bit...And wasn’t it close by?

“I, um, I’d certainly like to talk to her more about it,” Fjord finally said. “I can’t promise anything, but I am interested.”

Caduceus brightened. “Good! I know it’s far from decided, but wouldn’t it work out just so nicely? I’d like for Calliope to have trustworthy folks around her, and she could use someone who is good with people on her staff. She’s a little rough, but she’d be much better to you than some of these other folks have.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Fjord had always had some level of charm, even in his more awkward moments. It wasn’t a surprise to hear, but somehow hearing it from Caduceus made him flush.

“Here, let me get you her number.”

Fjord entered Calliope into his phone after a few attempts at getting her name right.

“I’ll send her a text tonight. Unless you think I should call her?”

“I think a text is fine. I’m the technology-challenged one of the family, not her.”

Caduceus smiled at Fjord’s laughter. They finished up their tea, talking a little more about their day. Soon it was dark, with speckled stars overhead and invisible crickets chirping away. They said their good nights, and Fjord breezed through his nightly routine. Wash his clothes, brush his teeth, file at his tusks, check that his assignments were all in order, plan what he might need to study tomorrow, finish laundry, then crawl into bed.

Lying in the dark of his room, he pulled out his phone and stared at the new contact.

It didn’t hurt to ask about the job, right?

In the dark of night, all alone, he felt those familiar hooks dig into his chest, like something weighed him down. Avantika would be so angry if he took another job. It was as good as saying he wasn’t coming back. He might lose all his other things. All that time invested. All the comfort in having someone else to make his decisions.

But it was so damned warm here. The Blooming Grove, the Xhohaus, it was like a dream. Was it even possible that it would stay? If he reached for it, would it just vanish?

Mind shifting between possibilities, the cold comfort of pain well-known versus the warm but terrifying unknown, Fjord fell asleep with his phone on his chest and a single text message he didn’t quite remember sending.

Hey Calliope, this is Fjord, the guy Caduceus mentioned. He said you might have an opening for a front desk role at your gym, and that I should contact you. I’ve got a few years of experience in customer service, and I spent years on various ships doing all kinds of odd jobs. If you still have that opening, I can send you over my full resume if you’d like to talk more.

He dreamt of the ocean. He was standing on the edge of a rocky outcropping, staring out into the softly turning waves. They stretched out before him, intimidating. Awe-inspiring. Eternal. Powerful.

He looked up into a bright blue sky, watching as it shifted. A cloud, or a face? A face made of a cloud, maternal, grew to encompass the sky.

When Fjord awoke his mind raced with the...conversation he’d had with the cloud, the promise he’d made. His heart raced with his mind, and he took a moment just to breathe. Process.

The sun was just beginning to fill the room. Fjord looked around. It was the same room he’d woken in, what, six times now. It was his seventh day in the Xhorhaus. It was his last day in the Xhorhaus.

He planted his feet on the wooden floor, seeing his phone discarded face-down on the floor. He ignored it for now, facing himself in the mirror as he had done merely days ago. Days and yet a lifetime.

He looked disheveled. His hair was still too long, too gray for his age. His face was clean, fuller. His eyes were clear, his slouch more natural and less burdened. He looked...stronger. Somehow. Maybe not physically. Those kinds of changes didn’t happen overnight, after all, but still.

A flash of pink caught his eye, and he looked to the houseplant sitting on the dresser. It had flowered overnight, from nothing to a vibrant pink, pointed sort of flower. He stood and approached the plant, barely grazing the flower with his fingertips. He knew that shade of pink.

It was surreal. He didn’t know if he was still dreaming or experiencing a mental break, but some deep, certain part of him knew it was neither. He dressed and went through his morning routine with a strange calmness over him. When he returned to his room, another shock awaited.

He turned back to his bed, intending on gathering his phone and making his bed, but more color caught his eye. Outside his window, that large, beautiful tree he’d come to admire had burst into color. It’s usually vibrant green leaves were now overwhelmed by bright pink flowers.

Caduceus stood beneath the petals, dressed in the long teal-pink robe-esque coat he’d worn earlier in the week. His back was to Fjord, a staff in one hand while the other extended out to catch a falling petal.

Fjord pried open the old window and leaned out. “Caduceus!”

Caduceus turned at the shout of his name. “Fjord? Look at this! I’ve never seen--”

“It’s amazing! Wait a minute, I’m-I’m coming downstairs.”

Fjord hurried from his room, leaving his window and door open in his haste. He tore out the front door, leaping down the porch steps to jog to the tree.

Caduceus was waiting, smiling with childlike delight as he was gently showered in pink. Petals had caught in his hair, a near-matching color. He laughed.

“I’ve never seen this happen, never heard of it happening,” Caduceus said. “I… I should take a picture. At some point. For my family.”

“I think I--” Fjord caught himself. Who was he to act as if he might be the cause of this? A minor miracle amidst another family’s home for centuries, where they had all worshipped a goddess he stumbled across in a dream, and he was going to try and claim it was about him?

“Do you know something, Fjord?” Caduceus asked in sincere curiosity.

“No, I couldn’t possibly. I just…”

Caduceus watched him expectantly, wise eyes waiting for him to come clean.

“I… I had a dream last night. About the Wildmother.”

Caduceus straightened, leaning towards him in intense interest.

“She asked me… To serve her, I think. Like you do, but different?” Fjord relayed the dream, the vision of the ocean, all that the Wildmother had told him, the promise he made, even the flower on his houseplant.

Caduceus’s smile slowly widened until it looked like it might split his face in his joy. “This is wonderful, Fjord!”

“Is it?” Fjord said. “I’m a bit nervous, if I’m honest.”

“You’ve been lost to this darkness for some time, I understand. Something drew you to it.”

Fjord looked down for a moment. “I...wanted guidance, I suppose. Purpose. Not to figure it out alone.”

“The Wildmother can give you those things, if you’d like for her to. And from what you’ve shared, I think some part of you might.”

“I’m sorry,” Fjord said. “I don’t mean to make this about me, I’m sure--”

“It is about you,” Caduceus said, almost confused. “She has chosen you to join her following, to take under her wing and her protection. There are no coincidences Fjord. This tree did not burst into flower for the first time in my life the night after you accepted its goddess by chance. She gave you a sign, several of them. First, when you were brought to her temple here, then when you met me, and more this morning.”

Fjord didn’t know what to say. He looked up at Caduceus. The man was smiling down at him, brimming with joy and pride. Was Caduceus proud of him?

He felt something push at his eyes.

Caduceus looked up into the tree. “This is a blessing, Fjord. I sensed you were meant for greater things than serving destruction, but it seems She has surprised me once again.”

Fjord managed a laugh. “She is certainly surprising.”

“Today is a special day,” Caduceus said, still smiling. “Would you help me finish breakfast? I think I’d like to bring it out here.”

“Of course.”

#my writing #fjorclay #critical role #teahaw #multi-chapter

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