#honestly i need to try and find a new job

[lostbookmark]

MDNI 🔞

Main Masterlist here

Finding Masterlist here

Summary: After a failed engagement, you move back home and reconnect with your friends. Maybe, just maybe you can find love with someone you never expected.

Pairing: Yoongi x F. Reader

Warnings: Explicit Sex, Swearing, Cheating (Not Yoongi), Fighting, Protected/Unprotected Sex, Toxic Past Relationship,

Genre: Enemies(?) to Lovers, Neighbors to Lovers, Small Town romance. Hurt-Comfort, Slight Angst, Romance

A/N: Okay, I was able to separate my original chapter 9. I'm pretty impressed by what I pulled out at the last minute. However, I have no clue about next week. Wish me luck.

The music was loud, and you lost your red cape hours ago after you took it off after you started to feel overheated. Your red skirt swayed and swished around your thighs as you moved around Jimin's place, looking for your friends. His small place was quite packed with people that you didn't know, and honestly, you didn’t want to get to know them. You were sure they were probably nice, but after your last attempt to make new friends left a bad taste in your mouth, you just avoided new people like the plague. Squeezing yourself through the throngs of people, you smile in relief when you spot Joon and Hobi talking in the kitchen.

“Where's Yoongi?” You shout over the music to Hobi and Joon as you tug the top of your dress up. The thin, delicate red straps at your shoulders were tied in a bow. Unfortunately, they are not doing their job in holding your corseted red and black top up.  “He's not answering my texts. I thought he would be here by now.” 

“He had to meet with our lawyer,” Joon answers, shouting back as he slightly leans down toward your ear so you can hear him.

“Did something happen?” you asked, concerned. 

“No, no,” Hobi says, easing your worries while shaking his head at you. “Everythings good. He just needed some paperwork filled out.”

Before you can continue the conversation, Tae comes around to your side, pushing a red solo cup of green liquid at you. You give it a quick sniff trying to see if you could tell what is in it. No luck, but it did smell really sweet. 

“Goblin juice,” he answers your unasked question. “It's just juice and vodka. Come on, let's dance.”

You didn't even get the chance to drink it before he grabbed your hand and pulled you into Jimin's living room that is currently serving as the dance floor. Jungkook stood in front of the television, singing karaoke in front of a crowd of giggling women trying to capture his attention. His talented voice was almost drowned out by the blaring background music. He was so focused on hitting the right notes that you don't think he even noticed the women.  Tae spins you around. You laugh and follow his lead as his limbs flail about to a beat of their own. You haven't had this much fun in so long. You're pretty sure it was way before you met Changkyun. Back when you felt like you had to change who you were for him.  You smile widely and let go, letting the rhythm of the music and Kook's vocals guide your body. Your hair moves in every direction as you sway your head back and forth with your eyes closed.

A warm body presses against your back. Your head turns slightly to see it's only Jimin, and you continue your carefree dance. Tae, who was dancing in his own little world, joins you once again, sandwiching you between the two of them. To anyone outside, it probably looked like something else. Something scandalous, as you are pressed flush against your two friends. To you, it was safe. It was you having fun and being free without any worries. It felt amazing.

“I got her from here,” Yoongi says, suddenly appearing at your side as he pulls you out from between your mutual friends. 

“You're no fun,” Tae pouts and walks away with Jimin at his side. 

“You came,” you say and throw your arms around Yoongi's neck, pressing your lips against his. It was a pretty bold move on your part, considering you're around a houseful of Jimin's coworkers and friends that you haven't met before tonight, but you don't care. Let them judge you. “Come dance with me.” 

“Absolutely not. What are you wearing?” He asks as he pulls away, looking you up and down.

“I'm Little Red Riding Hood,” you answer, swishing your ruffled skirt back and forth. You do a full twirl before smirking over your shoulder at him and turn to face him once more.  “Do you like it? I lost my cape.” 

“It's uhh,” he says, trailing off as he licks his lips. “It's something.”

“Maybe you should take me back to your place,” you lean in and whisper against his ear. 

“How much have you had to drink?” he asked, eyeing your cup. 

“Nothing,” you answer truthfully.  “Didn't get a chance to drink it before Tae pulled me out to dance.” 

Yoongi takes the solo cup from you and places it down on a random shelf as he guides you to the door. You look over your shoulder and throw a half-hearted wave at Joon and Hobi, who in turn raise their cups to you. The cold air sends shivers and goosebumps throughout your body as soon as you step outside. Yoongi pulls you close to his side, his hand rubbing up and down your arm trying to warm you up with his own body heat. You cling to his side as the two of you make your way to his car before he opens the door for you and you climb in.

“Joon said you had to meet with your lawyer,” you comment, as he starts the car and pulls away from the curb. “Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah,” he says with a smile. “Everythings great, but I do need to talk to you when we get back.”

“You're not suing me, are you?” you ask jokingly. “I hate to tell you this, but you won't get much out of me.”

“I plan on doing many things to you, but suing you is not one of them,” he answers, and you slap his thigh in response. 

Feeling a certain type of way, you undo your seatbelt, making his car ding repeatedly with a warning. You shift your body leaning over the middle console, supporting yourself with your arm as you press your lips to his neck, sucking lightly on his pulse point. He chuckles deeply and tries to push you away with his shoulder, but you won't let him.  You let your non supporting hand run over the opposite side of his face and into his hair. Keeping him in place so he couldn't pull away from you.

“Darlin, I need to concentrate,” his voice sounds just a tad bit husky. 

“I'm not doing anything,” you say, giving his earlobe a quick lick.  You let your hand trail down over the front of his body before landing on his rapidly hardening erection over his pants.  “Just keep your eyes on the road.”

“Y/N,” Yoongi chides, his voice sounding tight. “Let's get back home so we can talk, then I will give you what you want.” 

Home. There it was again. Maybe you were spending too much time at his place. Even though he's the one to ask you to stay over all the time. You wonder if it came off as intrusive since you were supposed to be taking things slow still. Sighing, you finally pull away and sit back in your seat once again. You don't bother with your seatbelt since he's about to turn down your dirt road. Trying to not overthink his words, you focus on what your body wants as you rub your thighs together as subtly as you could as he pulls into your shared driveway. You need to get this talk over quickly.

The lights in Yoongi's kitchen were bright, and all the white within the space made it brighter. You sit at the table and watch as he sits next to you with a stack of papers. You weren't sure what to expect with this talk, but you didn't think paperwork would be involved. 

“So, the bread and jams that you have made are a big hit with our customers. We keep getting daily inquiries about how people can buy the products now that the farmers market is closed for the season. We also got good feedback from the grocery stores that we sell to as well,” Yoongi explains to you. “They are quite interested in adding them to their shelves.” 

“Okay,” you say, not understanding where this was going.

“Well, Tae and I talked and Tannie Farms wants to buy the recipes from you,” he says, pushing the papers in front of you along with an ink pen that you didn't see before. “We will buy each recipe from you for 300 dollars…”

“Wait,” you say, cutting him off, staring at the documents in front of you before lifting your eyes to look back at him. “I'm confused. You want me to sell my grandmother's recipes.”

“Yes, with the amount that we need to be profitable, we need these to be made at a high volume. There is no way that you can supply us with what we need. So, legally, we would like to buy them from you,” he explains. 

“I can't do that,” you say, pushing the papers away from you.

“What do you mean? Do you want more money?” He asked, sitting back in his chair, crossing his arms defensively. “I think it's a more than fair offer. Our lawyer wanted to offer you less, and I had to talk him into 300.”

“It's not about money,” you retort, knitting your eyebrows together. “They are not my recipes to sell. They are the only thing that I have left of my grandmother. I don't feel right selling them.” 

“What do you think I'm going to do with them?” He asks, his voicing rising a little. “This can be quite lucrative for the farm since there's no real fresh baked goods around here.  You will get a good chunk of money out of it.”

“Will you stop thinking about money!” You exclaim. “Those recipes are special to me. They are my childhood memories. I don't want to give those away.” 

“They are just recipes,” he sounds exasperated. “I'm not going to go off and sell them to Betty Crocker or something.”

“Then just find one on Google,” you snark. “I'm not selling them. You shouldn't have sprung this on me.”

“Well, I didn't think you would act like this,” he says, defending himself.  

“Like what?” You snap, crossing your arms over your chest. “You completely blindsided me. You're not even asking me to sell them. You just shoved some papers at me expecting me to sign.”

“I told you that day at Jins that if everything went well, we would discuss things further,” he snaps back. 

“Discuss? This is not discussing things further,” you exclaim. “This was you practically telling me what to do.” 

It gets quiet in his kitchen. The two of you are just staring at each other. Yoongi suddenly grabs the contracts and rips them in half. It makes you jump slightly in your seat. He throws them back on the table as his sharp eyes look at you with little emotion. In fact, his stare is pretty blank.

“I think we are done here. You should go,” he mutters as he taps his fingers on his table top. 

“Yoongi,” you say, but he cuts you off.

“Go, now,” he demands as he looks past you. “Get out of my house.”

“Fine,” you say, and get up from his table, heading for his kitchen door. As you open it, you turn to look back at him. “You know what? Thank you for showing me that you were using me to make a profit. I should have never trusted you.”

You slam his door behind you and run down his steps. You let your legs carry you over to your house as your heels click away on the pavement. Using your spare key, you open your door and slide down the wall next to it once it closes. Pulling your black heels off, you throw them across the room in anger, making them hit your cabinets. You silently curse yourself for letting another man hurt you. Never again. You will never let that happen again.  You close your eyes and take in the feeling of the stabbing sensation in your heart. It's the feeling of loss.

Home? You laugh bitterly. Home? He was never going to be your home. 

“Did you know?” You ask, still pissed off from the night before. 

Hobi barely had his door open before you barged in and started to stomp around his apartment. It was the same apartment where you stayed a few months prior. The same apartment where your first broken heart led you and yet again here you were. All because you trusted some man. 

“Know what?” He asked, bleary-eyed with messy hair. You had clearly woken him up with your angry pounding on the door. “What happened?” 

“Did you know what Yoongi's meeting with the lawyer was about?” You ask, face hard and arms crossed against your chest. 

“Ummm,” Hobi says, not denying your question. 

“Don't lie to me,” you tell him.

“Yes,” he admits, throwing his arms up in the air in defeat. “Let's sit down and talk.”

You follow him into his living room, sitting down on his couch. His nice large, comfortable couch. This was definitely one thing that you missed about staying with him. Of course, you missed his company, but his couch was so nice. No lumps, perfectly smooth, and welcoming.

“Why didn't you at least warn me?” You ask. “You had plenty of time to tell me what was going on.”

“You're right. I should have said something,” he agrees. “But….I honestly thought you wouldn’t have a problem with it. Did you guys have a fight?” 

“Oh, we had a fight alright,” you mutter, leaning back, resting your head back against the back cushions.  “He kicked me out of his house.”

“What happened?” He asks, looking clearly confused. 

“He didn't even ask if I was willing to sell the recipes. He just expected me to sign the papers right there and then. He made it all about money,” you explain, as you stare up at his ceiling. “Accused me of wanting more money than what he was offering. I don't care about the money.” 

“What is it that you care about?” He asks, leaning his arm on the back of the couch and resting his head against his hand as he stares at you. 

“Do you remember when we used to bake with my grandma when we were young?” You ask, and he nods his head, confirming that he did. “Those recipes…they are attached to all the memories I have left of her. He’s asking me to give them all away. Just to sell it away to people who don't care about those memories, but can mass produce the products.” 

“You'll always have those memories,” he says gently, making you glare at him. “Don't look at me like that. I'm not saying that you have to sell them to Tannie Farms. I'm just saying that you will always have those memories. I don't think your grandma would be upset if you took the deal.”

Hobi's phone chimes with a notification disrupting your conversation. Fishing his phone out of his pocket, his eyes quickly look at you before swiping open his phone to respond to a text. Nervously, he tucks his phone under his leg before smiling at you. 

“It's him, isn't it?” You ask, staring at him from the corner of your eye. “What does he want?” 

“Just saying hi,” he answers, looking anywhere except at you.  

You sit up, stretching your arms above your head before rolling your shoulders. Looking over at Hobi, you give him a small smile that he wearily returns. Smiling bigger, you launch yourself at him, digging your hand under his leg, grabbing his phone. 

“Stop,” he screeches, trying to grab you and stop you from grabbing his phone. With the device in hand, you dash away to his bathroom with Hobi hot on your heels. Making it to safety, you slam the door, locking it so he can't get to you. “My phone has a passcode. Just open the door and give it back.” 

You roll your eyes and wake his phone screen. Hopping up on the counter, you cross your ankles and study the numbers on his lock screen. Tapping the side of his phone with your finger, you think his code would be something probably obvious. He was a pretty simple man. He never really changed his daily routine. Did laundry the same time and day every week. Visited his parents like clock work. He probably uses the same code for everything. Smiling to yourself, you press the numbers, 1..3..4..3..4..0. Success: You never understood his obsession with that group of numbers, but he used it all the time in high school. Maybe this will teach him to regularly change his passwords.  Tapping his messages app, you press on Yoongi's name as soon as it pops up.  

She won't sell them. Can you try to talk to her?

I know. She's here with me. I can try, but I don't think it will end well. 

You're mad. You feel like everyone has conspired against you. Hobi was supposed to be your best friend, and he's not even standing up for you. He wasn't defending you this time. Jumping down from the counter, you open the door to find your friend leaning against the wall opposite the door. You watch him straighten up and hold out his hand. You give him the phone, watching as a look of surprise comes across his face when he notices the phone screen unlocked. 

“You think I should sell them,” you tell him. 

“I think that you should think about it,” he confesses. 

“Is this what everyone thinks?” You ask, dreading the answer. 

“We had a meeting a couple of weeks ago,” he admits, shifting nervously side to side. “Everyone is in agreement that it would be good to buy them from you. I didn't think Yoongi was going to approach you like that. I figured he would actually have a discussion with you first.”  

“So, you all just kept this from me for weeks. Something that directly impacts me?” You ask. “Did you all conspire together and plan on getting me to fall for him? If he got me to like him enough, I wouldn't tell him, no?” 

“That's not fair. His feelings for you are real,” he sighs. “It's just business….you know.  You said no, and that's perfectly fine. So, that's the end of it.”

“But….it's clearly not,” you dispute his statement. “If it was the end. You wouldn't have agreed with Yoongi to try and talk to me.” 

“I'm sorry,” he says softly.

“Yeah, me too,” you respond before turning away and walking out of his apartment. 

Opening your bedroom closet, you slide that beautifully decorated box that you pulled out of your parents' moldy attic all the way back on your top shelf. You don't even want to look at it. You don't ever want to bake again. 

Going back downstairs into your kitchen, you grab a container of leftovers from your fridge. Plopping yourself down on a wobbly seat, you decide to eat the food cold. Looking out your window, you notice Yoongi start to make his way across the driveway to your house. You put your fork down and hold your breath as you watch him. Suddenly, he stops midway over before turning and going back to his own home. You slump down in your seat. Your eyes never leave the window in hopes that he comes back. He doesn't.  Pushing your food away from you, you cross your arms against your chest. You didn't have much of an appetite right now. Picking up your phone, you open your messages, looking at Hobi's contact picture. Guilt swirls in your stomach. 

I'm sorry

You hit send. You bite your lower lip, waiting to see if he will respond. You wouldn't blame him if he didn't. You probably lost Yoongi, but you couldn't lose Hobi. Not again. 

Me too

You smile at his response. Burying your face in your hands, you cry. You don't understand how everything got so out of hand. Things were great. It was more than great. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe you were taking this all too personally. If Yoongi approaches you again, you'll talk to him. You can try to figure something out once you're both calm. Until then, you'll stay clear. Just like you always used to. 

Tagged Readers:

@mar-lo-pap , @bontensbabygirl , @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs , @redragdoll, @svnbangtansworld , @wobblewobble822 , @busanbby-jjk , @pitchblack0309 , @bluesiebirdie

[louiseolivier]

Fluffebruary: Moving in Together

Written for @bucktommyfluffebruary

AO3 link

It was dark out and late, probably close to 10PM. All their friends and family had gone, leaving Buck and Tommy alone in their new home—a 90’s built split-level in a truly sickening shade of yellow. Unfortunately, painting the siding was low on the list of maintenance the house needed.

Buck had his stint in construction, and Tommy painstakingly renovated the Craftsman he recently sold for a small fortune, so a lot of it they could do themselves. What they wouldn’t fuck with was electrical, and the house needed a new A/C unit. Of course, it was the middle of July, and their choices were to wait a week for a crew to come out or pay what Buck considered grand larceny to bump their job up to priority. They stupidly chose the former.

Buck sat on the floor in front of the couch, keying in streaming passwords, and, WOW, was that a conversation he never thought he’d have.

“So, do we keep my Nexflix?”

“No. I’ve been with them since they were disc only.”

“Bu-but my recommendations.”

“Too bad.”

Tommy came in with the fan from their bedroom. “Oh, thank God!” Buck groaned and threw his head back, reveling in the blast of air as soon as Tommy turned it on. The doorbell rang, and he gave a punch of joy. The pizza had arrived. The first delivery to their home. Just in time, too, because Buck was ready to gnaw his arm off.

Tommy returned with the pies and unceremoniously plopped them onto Buck’s lap. He swung his leg over Buck’s shoulder and sat behind him on the couch. Buck handed Tommy the top pie, opened the one on his lap, and then they both closed their respective boxes and switched.

Buck hated onions, and Tommy hated green peppers, and both were sick of abstaining for the sake of the other. They could, and did once, order half and half, but it was impossible to not find a stray onion on Buck’s side or for the green peppers not to permeate the entire pie. Now, they each order their own. Which was no hardship, honestly.

They didn't keep their own Netflix accounts. Not at over $17 a month, they weren’t. They canceled and kept Tommy’s Hulu bundle and Buck’s Max account, but if they decided to resubscribe in the future, they would sign up with their email. The joint email their joint bills were sent, like the mortgage, gas, electric, and garbage. All the things Buck hadn’t had to deal with being a lifelong renter. It was freaking exhilarating!

Buck turned his head and kissed Tommy’s knee. He rubbed his stubble against it and then dug into his onionless pizza. “How’s your back?” he asked around a mouthful.

Tommy’s blunt nails scratched against his scalp, and Buck moved into it. “I’ll live. I thought about digging through the bathroom boxes for the heating pad, but it’s so hot, I’m sure you putting your hand against it would be just as good.” Buck snorted and then groaned, throwing his slice back into the box. “What’s wrong?” Tommy asked.

“This one wants the password. No QR code. And it’s one of yours, so it’s, like 20 characters,” Buck groused.

“Poor, baby,” Tommy cooed.

Buck gave a soft grin. He couldn’t see him, but just from his tone, Buck knew Tommy had his head tipped back, eyes closed, chewing absentmindedly. They were both exhausted, and all Buck wanted to do was start a movie and eat pizza with his partner. In their home.

“Hey, remember cable?” Buck asked. He pulled his phone close and tried to figure out if the next letter was an uppercase I or a lowercase l. “It was kind of amazing, right? Maybe we should cancel all of this and get cable instead.”

The hand in hair gripped and gave a light tug. “I do remember, and I remember how hellish it was trying to get out of it. No dice.” Tommy went back to scratching, and Buck grunted, dissatisfied with his answer but understanding Tommy’s point of view. “You know what else I remember?” Tommy asked. “Antennas. Our father refused to get cable until 1997. Not only that, but the TV we used the most was black and white.”

Buck twisted around to see Tommy's face. He was right. Tommy's head rested against the couch, and his eyes were barely open. Buck grinned uncertainly, not sure if Tommy was kidding. “Really? You only had black and white?”

“I didn’t say that. We had a huge—well, huge at the time—36” color TV that did picture-in-picture and had the option to add surround sound. But after 5PM on weekdays, and forget about the weekends, that TV became my father’s. That left the 12” black and white that still used a rotary tuner for my brother and I to fight over.”

“And since he was three years older...”

“Got his way, yeah.”

Buck gave Tommy’s knee another kiss. “I’m sorry,” he said, feeling bad for little Tommy.

Tommy shrugged. “That’s life, right? Anyway, it worked out on Fridays. TGIF was pretty much the only thing CJ and I agreed on.”

“Was that a TV show?”

Tommy froze, slice halfway to his mouth, and then he frowned. “I can’t tell if you’re fucking with me or not?”

Buck smirked. “I am. Sorta. Like, I’ve heard of it I’m just not 100% sure what the line-up was.”

“Most of the time, I forget there’s an age gap, and then you’ll say something...”

“In my defense, I was popculturally sheltered. Mom and Dad wanted us to read...”

“Which you hated.”

“...which I hated,” Buck agreed. “When I did get to watch, I was mostly relegated to PBS.”

“Mostly?”

“I caught a rerun of Mystery Science Theater 3000 one Sunday morning and was hooked. They didn’t object for whatever reason, so most of my movie knowledge comes from bad B movies from the 60s and 70s.”

Tommy chuckled and said affectionately, “Nerd.” He pulled himself down with a hand around Buck’s neck, and they shared a greasy, pizza-y kiss. Tommy tasted like pepperoni, sauce, and onions. Gross, but sometimes sacrifices had to be made for love. Buck pushed Tommy’s pizza box out of the way and straddled his lap, logging into their streaming services forgotten. They kissed again, and Buck knew Tommy was suffering just as much with his green pepper breath.

When the kiss broke, Tommy nuzzled into Buck’s neck, and Buck stroked the sweat-damp hair at the back of Tommy’s head. It was too hot to be this close, but Buck couldn’t bring himself to care, and he was pleased to know Tommy felt the same. “You know, going forward, TV, movies, music, technology, all of it, we’ll get to experience together. The gaps between us are going to narrow.”

“They barely exist now,” Tommy said. He pulled back, staring at Buck intensely. His fingertips followed the line of Buck’s jaw, and with just a touch of pressure to his chin, Tommy tilted Buck’s face. Their lips brush together two and then three times. “I think we’re going to be happy here,” Tommy confessed.

In the house they bought, in the relationship they built, and with the love they made, Buck agreed. "I know we will.

[amarnoban]

Amara let out a small laugh, shaking her head. "Okay, okay, I get it. Skydiving is the thrill ride, the ladder’s the slow climb. I’m just saying, if the ladder’s wobbly, I’m not sure I’d make it to the top without a little scream of terror." She joked, pretending to visualize herself awkwardly scrambling up, then quickly returned to the present. "And no, I didn’t mean rebranding, but maybe just a little... refresh? Like, a 'Simon 2.0' with a new flair. I mean, who doesn't love a good glow-up?" She grinned playfully, only to quickly add, "But seriously, you seem fine as you are. You’re good, no need for a full-on makeover."

When he mentioned his wife, the brunette couldn't help but chuckle. "Ah, a well-balanced partnership. I respect that," she said with a grin. "I mean, honestly, I'm still trying to figure out how I ended up being the most indecisive person on the planet when it comes to anything." She shrugged dramatically, as if the weight of her indecision were a heavy burden to bear. "But hey, if you ever do need a stylist recommendation... you know where to find me," she added, obviously joking.

With a small nod of her head, the brunette couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, those NDAs are a blessing, aren’t they? Keeps everything neat and tidy. You don’t have to remember half of the details because you can’t spill a single drop. Feels like a nice excuse for being cryptic," she joked, resting her chin on her hand. "I totally get it, though. Sometimes saying nothing is way easier than saying too much. You know, the art of keeping people on the edge of their seat. Comes with the job."

When he mentioned reading everything, Amara’s eyes lit up. "Oh, I love me some random deep dives. Honestly, the more bizarre, the better. And yeah, the slow reading club? I’m your co-president. But I’m all in for a palate cleanser. Let’s be real, sometimes you just need a non-committal genre to clear your mind." She shrugged, smiling. "Maybe I’ll start with a documentary on whether or not we’ve been secretly living in a simulation, you know, something to really make me question everything."

The ladder of success made him laugh, not necessarily at her but the metaphor. "I think that's different," he opined sincerely. "Skydiving, the world drops out from underneath you. The ladder, you build. Way more stable and less terrifying." There were the metaphors of safety nets, though, but that was an entirely different topic. He tipped his head, ready to tease a little even though they still barely knew each other. "Are you saying I need rebranding?"

He shook his head, his cold hands finding his pants pockets as he did. "No. I definitely don't. Or, I've never imagined I do. I guess objectively I don't know." He shrugged at the mention of Kate approving. "Yes and no. We make our own choices, obviously. She doesn't tell me what to wear unless I ask for her opinion, though."

Her reassurance didn't fall on deaf ears by any stretch of the imagination, but he was quick to gently dismiss it, too. "I didn't think you were. I'm not sure what I'm allowed to say while it's still in progress, you know? I almost appreciate it when there's a firm NDA clause in place because then I just say nothing."

He nodded. "I enjoy some of those little rabbit holes, if I'm being honest. Bring it on. Do you have a palate cleanser in mind? I'm always willing to recommend if you need me, too. I tend to just read a little of everything, I'm just kind of slow at it sometimes."

[pkmn-redirect]

*sigh*

Sorry folks- no update this week. Things at the day-job have gotten.... busy. Like, 60+ hour work weeks busy. -_- I'm kind of dying.

The next page is *almost* done, but I have had so little energy between 11 hour shifts that it's just not happening this week. I need to do some hard thinking about the update schedule on this, especially if my job keeps doing.... this.

[beansnpeets]

Apparently Sled Dog Guy's brother was supposed to groom the home trail so I can run dogs while he is away, but he hasn't yet. I was disappointed until I realized my boss hasn't paid me 2 cheques so fuck him I am not working until he pays me and I can go run dogs this next week instead 😤

[orcelito]

Did driving practice today. Actually did parallel parking practice this time, even tho I really didn't want to still. Finally got it into my head that I can maybe do this.

SO......

I have scheduled my driving test. For November 13th, 3 weeks from today.

[sunnynardelli]

It was never easy to tell when banter was just banter and when there was a little more weight to it. Sunny tried to never read too much into the words of others. She had embarrassed herself more times that she would have liked to admit by thinking people were into her (or worse hated). Unless they were explicitly clear, she would just laugh at it and roll her eyes. Even when they were, she did the same. “I never said it was true just that there are people who think it,” she said, shaking her head. There was definitely truth to that too. “Maybe the people who have had to deal with the real me should start a class action lawsuit against them for misrepresentation.” That’s was definitely an idea. It was definitely better that someone else have to pay it than herself. She wasn’t overly concerned about anyone actually pulling that though. They were more likely to try and come out of the woodwork and sue her for something relating to her business. They could try but she did have a lawyer dad. His focus might not have been bullshit lawsuits but he’d have figured something out or called on favors for friends. “Isn’t it better to be upfront about who you are so there aren’t any misconceptions?” she asked in return to his question. “I mean, maybe it would be better to wait a few times but honestly if they can’t handle the truth why are you even going to want to bother dragging it out. It’s better to run people off immediately.” And she was relatively good at that. That and knowing things about town. “There are. I mean, the trick is finding one’s that aren’t on private property. Trespassing is just the first thing in the quest for possible death.”

Sunny wasn’t a risk taker. Not even remotely. Growing up, she’d always been the kind of person who played it safe. She wasn’t likely to be caught dead jumping off a cliff. She’d tried a thing or two with limited chance of damage or chaos a time or two but she was much more content to keep her days downtown, running her bar or trying different foods. “That’s nearly an impossible feat though. I mean, trust me when I say, it is very rare for the dream to stack up,” she confessed. It was a bit like not meeting your idols, they were bound to disappoint you. She’d definitely put people on a pedestal only to have reality come crashing down on her later. “That is precisely it. I mean, I’m not sure what your after life would have in store for you but there is potential and at the end of the day, that people is enough to enter it with hope. I do have to warn you that she’s a bit of a screamer. Well, crier to be more precise but it comes out like a bit of wail – Maybe a partner in crime is what she needs to knock it out.” It made sense to her in her New Years Sleep Deprived brain. She nodded, willing to accept that neither of them actually wanted him to die. “I do a pretty good job of leaving things in random places on my own though honestly no one has to die to do that sort of things,” she told him. She listened to him talk, nodding as he talked about all the things he wanted to do with his son. She didn’t have any person experience in her life to relate to it but she could understand wanting to teach and encourage your kid to love and appreciate the things that were important to you. “Between your interests and his mom’s, he’s going either going to be the biggest hipster or completely rebel to the music and outdoors and become some sort of straight laced business man. It’ll be entertaining to watch.” You couldn’t really predict whether a person was going to run toward their genetic predispositions or against them. She snorted at the mention of booktok. “It’s okay. Men can be into spicy books too.”

Following and talking along the way was definitely the way to go. She felt a little warmer moving than she did standing around. Then again, moving from the beach and the breeze helped a little in that department as well. “It’s too late,” she said, “I’m afraid the image is already there and soon you will be known as the freezer fuck guy. You’ll be a legend. A questionable legend who people aren’t completely sure if they can trust but a legend never the less.” She did follow and wait, letting herself lounge against the wall while he got into warmer things. Her spiked hot chocolate was practically gone but it was okay since she’d soon have more. “You look less like an popsicle now,” she remarked taking in the sight of him. “And that will do. We don’t have far to go. Hopefully you can manage. I mean, we should start from the top with all the secrets.”

"All varieties of teasing are always on the table." A smirk tugging at his lips before laughing, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, tasting the saltiness of the water that still clung to his skin now. "Now who told you that you had an innocent appearance? Because they were lying, and you should get your money back." If there was one thing Ari could do, he could play the games too, she wanted to tease him, he could easily tease the blonde headed woman, at least she was being gracious enough to have talked to him so he wasn't standing on the beach completely alone, which had been the original plan. "Challenging and difficult, those are the two that you choose to start off with in telling someone about yourself? Brave, brave woman." Clicking his tongue, not sure if he was more impressed, amused, or fascinated by their conversation. "Believe you're supposed to save that information till you meet a person at least -- I don't know say the third time." Holding three of his fingers up as if driving the point really home. Though the blonde could do what she wanted, he just couldn't resist when she had offered up that information. "Mean there's the cliffs here, aren't there? Maybe it's not allowed to cliff jump from them, rocks below -- immediately crushes that rush, er -- figuratively and literally." Or maybe it was more turned into shredded human but there was no point in attempting to give more details to this story.

For Ari he was someone who was always up for an adventure, maybe you wouldn't actually find him cliff jumping but send him on a more difficult hike? Sign the man up. It was something he planned to do more of once the weather settled a bit more in Merrock and he could get outside, feel the crunch of his heavy boots back against the ground, it'd be that feeling of home for him. "That's all I could ever aim to be, a true gentleman, have to live up to someone's dreams." Ari quipped, tugging the towel tighter around his skin. "So you have one ghost lady, and you're willing to promote me. All I'm hearing is I'm winning at ghost life, and in the afterlife I'd at least have a friend, or maybe a ghost girlfriend, mean she's alone, I'm alone, haunting your for the rest of evermore might as well also make a partner out of it." It seemed like the only logical idea.

Giving a set nod, "You're not wrong, not something I want to think about anytime soon, actually happening. As much as haunting you until your last days probably would be far more amusing for me, than you. A person can only handle so many things going missing or ending up in random places before you know." Tapping the side of her temple indicating going a little crazy, but weren't they all in this world? "Definitely have a lot I want to teach him in this world so kind of have to stick around. Want him to learn to enjoy the outdoors, how to be kind and gentle with nature and animals." It was something he knew wouldn't happen for awhile, at least in the bigger sense there'd be years before he was taking him on adventures, but even in small ways he could make a change for the little boy. "Daddy Phantom sounds -- like you've been on booktok. Don't ask how I know about booktok either, you couldn't torture it out of me."

"I said that I'm freezing as fuck! Not that I fuck freezing -- wait, that -- no, definitely did not say that and I'm going to need you to make sure that you don't put out the image to anyone that I'm hanging around meat freezers. Are you trying to give the town of Merrock the idea I'm a serial killer? Not the vibe I'm trying to give, Sunny." As the blonde followed he rolled his eyes, "Apparently I'm far more exciting than you're giving me credit for, but I will take the liquor if you're offering now." Since this had all started over her playfully attempting to show off her spiked hot chocolate. Once inside it didn't take him long to dry off and change, emerging with his own hot drink, now far more suitable in a pair of jeans, his boots, and a simple button up. "Alright, I did make a pit stop for one of these, figure warm up and you show me the direction to this place you intend to take me to liquor me up and tap into all my secrets. Let's see how much game you have."

[hotsugarbyglassanimals]

it's probably the sunnier weather that's doing stuff to my brain to make me more optimistic but it's so interesting having a brain that craves a lot of self-fulfillment to the point where I can move past some hang-ups around perfection by going "oh I really wanna do that though" and then I do it well because researching how to do it right is also a rewarding part of the process

[canidbutch]

it happened so early in the morning and i am STILL frothing with rage over this text my boss sent me

[vanity-complex]

.

[onrainynights]

every day that goes by it feels more and more likely that I'll get this promotion and I can't believe I'm at a place in my life where that's even a possibility. like last year I had just the absolute worst time with employment and just had a horrible year in general but I feel like I got so lucky finding this job. except they felt lucky to find ME. like the hiring manager told me she was so happy to have multiple candidates and that I was easily the best out of the group (she's had to hire people out of desperation/only having one candidate before and they never worked out bc they weren't good fits at all) and my confidence has skyrocketed since I started working there because my boss and coworkers treat me like an equal even though I'm young and relatively inexperienced. they treat me like they believe I'm capable and competent and it makes me feel capable and competent and it's incredible. the idea that I could be getting a promotion for the first time in my life after only 3 months at this place is insane but I'm so hopeful because nobody acts like it's a far-fetched idea. I'm taken seriously and it gave me the confidence I needed to actually say that I'm interested in that promotion and that I know I'm capable of doing that position. plus the company itself is great honestly, I feel really lucky to work there. even as a part time employee at the lowest level I feel genuinely important and appreciated. I've already met the person who would be my boss if I get promoted and she seems just as respectful as everyone else. are all employee-owned companies like this???

[starswallowingsea]

watching this video on some new lady macbeth "feminist reimagining" and i think she hits the nail on the head. so so so many of these "feminist retellings" or old stories and myths just. dont understand modern feminism OR historical gender roles from the time period that they're trying to retell. which was one of my biggest issues with kaikeyi if you remember my review of that book (and i agree that i probably would have liked that book better if it hadn't been a myth retelling and instead just an indian fantasy or something. which honestly would have been pretty cool). we neeeeeeed to stop forcing 21st century politics and ideals on the past but not in the "the past was never woke" or whatever way that the right says about it but in the "the past is more complicated than we tend to think and we can't just assume our opinions on it are going to be the same as the opinions of people who were living at the time".

[somnoir]

My father's secretary

Danny Fenton did not expect to be secretary material but after 7 years of being a hero and having Jazz as his elder sister, he was damn good at it. He needed a job, he knew that, and Wayne Enterprises was willing to hire a 21 year old taking online college classes for aerospace engineering.

And he was fucking thankful for that cause Mr. Wayne was pretty neat and bought him good food and coffee whenever he looked out of it. Half his family were already in Gotham with only his parents in Amity. They were finally reformed and now their research finally advocated for the rights of ghosts and spread awareness on their culture. Good for them.

Jazz and Dante were in Arkham working as a psychologist and guard. Elle was still in school, enrolled into Gotham Academy once Vlad insisted on paying her tuition. To be fair, he was paying for Danny's tuition too.

But back to his secretary duties. His boss was Bruce Wayne, yes, but he did often work with the man's son and the current CEO. Tim was nice and had the same caffeine addiction as him. (Jazz highly discouraged this friendship in case they both made a monstrosity of coffee and energy drinks.)

But Mr. Wayne was the best. He was rather clumsy and a bit airheaded but he was the best fucking boss he could ever ask for. The man's paternal instincts were on point and Danny was almost intimidated when the man started handing him extra cash whenever Danny came to the office looking more tired than usual. When that failed, Mr. Wayne resorted to giving him more material things.

Now, he doesn't want to take advantage of this ridiculously kind man with a lack of self preservation (God, was this what Jazz felt about him?). But Mr. Wayne had given him this amazing coffee maker and then proceeded to give Danny the best toaster ever. And Danny has always been known to resolutely be against Billionaires adopting him. But Mr. Wayne?

Danny had honed his back talking skills to perfection to talk down arrogant elites that kept demanding for his boss. He mastered his customer service voice and that condescending look he saw the receptionists give people like they were tantruming toddlers. Danny was ready to fight for that man (Vlad was choking somewhere as the Fentons worriedly look at him).

Jason has heard about Danny Fenton a couple of times. Tim, Dick, and Bruce had mentioned him a lot. Bruce's new secretary that looked like he'd woken up from a coma and was comparable to a grumpy cat on his best days. He's seen the guy a couple times, noticed how he was almost as tall as Jason. Honestly, he kinda looked like a twig (but then that was because of Danny's suit that he made sure didn't completely fit him).

Seriously. Danny was willing to fucking fight anyone and everyone for Bruce Wayne.

The guy was strange. Very strange. Especially when the pits seemed to either become frantic or calm whenever he was around. It depended on the situation really, but mostly the pits grew calmer around Fenton. Like a cat that finally saw its favorite person. It was so weird.

He was drawn to Fenton, sometimes finding himself walking towards the man before he snaps out of it.

It's on this day where Danny was by Bruce's side, a stylus and tablet in hand. He was furiously tapping away at his phone, cursing under his breath about bothersome and stuck up cialiteses.

"Jason!" Bruce happily greets, "Don't mind Danny for a bit. He's telling of some investors for trying to meddle with the company. Tim is too sleep deprived to handle it."

"Where is Tim?"

"Danny threatened to throw the company's coffee maker out the window if he doesn't take a nap." Bruce chuckles, glancing fondly at his fiesty secretary. "Danny?"

"Give me a minute, Mr. Wayne. Some people are trying to squeeze into your schedule when I specifically told them that they can't." Danny says, clearly irritated but looks at Bruce with an apologetic gaze. "No—Mr. Luthor, neither Mr. Drake nor Mr. Wayne are available on that day—"

And it dissolved into Danny telling of what Jason assumes was Lex Luthor to stop his attempts. In other words, corporate for Fuck off.

"He's good, isn't he?" Jason humms as he follows Bruce down the hall, glancing at the tired employees that looked utterly exhausted and horrifically motivated. "Looks like adoption bait."

"Unfortunately, Danny is a very much against Billionaires adopting him. His godfather is one and has attempted multiple times." Bruce sighs, feigning a sorrowful look as he sends Danny a small pout. "What did you do when he tried the fifth time again?"

"I blew up his car, Mr. Wayne." Danny nonchalantly says, "But that only made him want to adopt me more."

Jason blinks, baffled before he's laughing at the utter absurdity of the situation.

"That sounds similar to—"

Gunshots tore through the air as people immediately screamed. At the entrance of the building was the Joker in all his insanity, guns blazing. Jason froze, sucking in a deep breath as he took one step back. They weren't in costume, they weren't the Red Hood and Batman in that moment.

"Nightwing, Robin, and Spoiler are on their way." Oracle says through the comms but that doesn't comfort him in the slightest.

It's chaos in moments and people are ducking their heads to avoid the bullets. Jason and Bruce look right at each other, taking cover as bullets ruin the walls and furniture. But Bruce is dragged from his spot, pulled towards the Joker who laughs maniacally as he pressed a gun against Bruce's head.

"Mr. Wayne!" Many people yell as they all stared in horror as the Joker threatens Gotham's beloved prince.

Jason immediately remembers an explosion and a crowbar.

(Reminder, Danny Fenton was very much ready to go to war for Bruce Wayne).

A tablet and a stylus was suddenly shoved into his arms. Jason blinks, turning to Danny who tugs at his tie and rummages through the counter for something. The Joker sees this, clearly irritated.

"You! Eyes on me!" The Joker practically demands, hysterical that not everyone was paying attention.

Danny apparently doesn't give a damn before looking the Joker straight in the eye.

"Eyes in me." Danny repeats.

A second later something was thrown and a cutter was cutting through the Joker's eye.

Jason gaped at the seemingly harmless secretary, unable to comprehend that this man had just thrown a fucking cutter into the Joker's eye.

Bruce is set free.

Everyone is frozen in place.

Everyone watched as Bruce Wayne's tired and overworked secretary beats the shit out of the Joker, saying something about how he wasn't going to lose a good boss.

No one particularly knows what to do once Danny pulls out the cutter with the Jokers blood and... Fucking shit, was that his eyeball?!

Dick and Damian arrived at some point, also too shocked to do anything. When Danny was done and satisfied, with the Joker still alive, groaning and whimpering from the pain that Danny inflicted.

As if he hadn't almost killed the Joker, Danny turns to them with a tired smile.

"Mr. Wayne, I implore you not to die. I can't lose the best boss that I've had." He plainly says and takes the tablet and stylus back from Jason.

Jason thinks he might just marry this feral man.

Yeah.

Yeah, he was definitely going to marry Danny Fenton.

Part 2 | Masterpost

[mithrun-house-of-kerensil]

Lately, I've been thinking about Mithrun and the ways he is dehumanized in canon.

Before I get started, we know that elven society is incredibly afraid of death and illness. This is obvious in how they look down on the short lived races and see them as weak and childlike. We also know that Mithrun himself had ableist views toward his brother and these values did not leave him once he, himself, became disabled. He is a product of the society that raised him, but I also think how Mithrun is currently being treated contributes to his view of himself.

Mithrun has had three different caretaking groups over the years. The first are the ones his brother hired for him. From what we can see, they did the job, but we can understand that they did not know what to do with him. No one had ever recovered from having their desires eaten so the focus was less on rehabilitation and more on keeping him alive.

Later we see Milsiril take an interest in him because of his desire to return to the dungeon. Since she did not bother to visit him for decades after finding him, we can assume that there is an ulterior motive here. Timeline-wise, this was when the majority of the canaries had just been wiped out. They needed more men, and Mithrun is set up to be the perfect single-focused soldier.

Honestly, we can assume that Milsiril doesn't really care about him or see him as a person. Mithrun is just a new project for her to play with. We can see this in how she's focused on superficial level concerns like the fact that he doesn't look nice and wanting him to be overly grateful toward her. She also talks about him like he's not in the room and can't hear her. This is a dehumanizing trait shared by many characters when talking about Mithrun.

When he finally does recover enough to return to the canaries, the military does not make any effort to accommodate his needs. We know the canaries are understaffed and the ethics are already bad, but they really did not even try to care about Mithrun's safety at all.

Entrusting a criminal with his care was questionable at best, especially when Cithis immediately took the opportunity to abuse her power over him and no one stopped her.

While acknowledging the light-hearted nature of the manga, it's uncomfortable that Mithrun was treated like a child and an animal by Cithis for her amusement. Regardless of her 'learning to respect him' later, the point is that Mithrun was taken advantage of and degraded because she believed he couldn't say no. No one bothered to do anything about this until Pattadol yelled at her.

Truly his treatment is summarized well by Milsiril here. Mithrun is extremely vulnerable to being abused by those taking care of him because he won't advocate for himself. He has one desire so he won't fight for himself in any other way.

It is obvious that Mithrun was not treated well by his caretakers and this has resulted in him identifying his needs through a disconnected and frankly, infantilizing lens.

I understand that it may have been a translator's decision, but I always thought it was interesting that Mithrun says that he's "not sleepy" which is a childish term. Otherwise, he speaks like everyone else, if not rather posh.

This, followed by the fact that he is responsive to Kabru treating him like a literal infant to get him to eat, paints a clear picture of the fact that Mithrun is not unfamiliar with being treated like this. He responds to it because he's used to it and has no desire to argue with being treated this way. When we consider the fact that the chapter started with Milsiril treating an older child Kabru in the same way, it is likely that she also did the same thing to Mithrun when he was under her care.

In these panels, we see that Mithrun does not believe that he can sleep without magical assistance, even though it is immediately refuted when Kabru takes the time to bundle him up and help him relax. Not only does he fully believe he can't sleep without external assistance, but he states directly that there is no point in him getting comfortable.

As Kabru observes, Mithrun's inability to recognize his needs applies to needs such as hunger and exhaustion, but it obviously also applies to emotional needs. Kabru just wanting to feed him something delicious and not wanting him to give up on life is the most consideration someone has given Mithrun in years.

The relationship they form over the course of a single week is enough to shape Mithrun's behaviour completely. Mithrun ignores Cithis's demand in favour of asking Kabru's opinion. It is Kabru's hand Mithrun takes to pull him out of his defeated state. It is Kabru Mithrun confessed his true desire to.

Do you realize how depressing that is? All it took was the new perspectives from Kabru and Senshi to make him consider the fact that he should keep living despite no longer needing to fulfill his duty. Being treated well could have helped Mithrun much sooner and this shift in the way he sees himself contributes to his recovery going forward.

TLDR: Mithrun has no desire to be respected, but why does that make people feel comfortable acting like he doesn't deserve it? Someone not caring about being treated well doesn't give you permission to treat them poorly. This feels like a playschool-level consent lesson: just because he's not saying no to a humiliating or degrading act doesn't mean it's a yes and therefore okay to do. Acknowledging this is the bare minimum of treating him as a person.

[saintrosalyn]

BIRD DOG - JAILBIRD PART TWO

Part One

Description: Simon’s determined to retrieve his jailbird.

Word count: 4.5k

TW: Parolee! Reader (guys we’ve graduated to parole), stalking, reader is kept as vague as possible, sexual favors in exchange for money, groping, Ghost is a creep (graduated from perv lmao), p in v, oral (m! receiving), p in v, mention of breeding kink, creampie, possessiveness, dub-con, somewhat edited.

Notes: It’s finally done! This took longer than I anticipated since I deviated from the OG plan and was a bit of a stinker to write but it's done. I hope everyone enjoys it! I’ve absolutely loved reading all the comments, asks, and reblogs. Such positive feedback is what led me to posting part two honestly. I'm currently working on the last part of JB so expect that soon💖. Feedback is always appreciated but never expected. Let me know if I missed any tags. Enjoy :)

Also I've never done a tag list before so apologies if it didn't work or I missed anyone😭. Please let me know if the link to part one doesn't work either, this is the first time I'm using Tumblr on my laptop I usually use my phone.

You got used to the slight tremor in your hands, the parting kiss alcoholism left with you, but the violent shaking as you attempted to click the lock of the hotel door closed was difficult for even you to handle. You longed to feel that familiar burn of self-destruction but the only place that would have you end up is back in prison. Parole violation. It was too soon to resort to such dramatic measures, instead you quietly paced your small room, double checking that you clicked the deadbolt shut, closing the curtains as tight as they could go, anything to try and soothe your rising anxiety.

Talking yourself away from the edge again and again until you could finally sit down on the stiff mattress. Every time you managed to calm your heart you blinked and saw that room again. You saw those pictures again.

He-Simon.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to take deep, slow, breaths. 

After sleeping together, after discovering the skeleton in his closet, you swallowed the bile in your throat and kissed his jaw. He made dinner which you smiled over and forced into your mouth, every bite downed with a sip of water. The two of you went to bed, your eyes darting to that door, now left open enough you could see a glimpse of his homemade wallpaper. He kept an arm draped over you and fell asleep. 

Then you left.

Barefoot, not knowing where your shoes had been placed in your need to-

Jesus Christ you had slept with the man.

You barely made it to the bathroom, puking mostly water and yellowed acid up. It made your eyes water and nose run, blowing it in a piece of toilet paper, flushing it down. There was little comfort to be found in the distance you put between you and him. 

Going on foot wasn’t the brightest idea, but risking stealing Simon’s car and having him call the cops on you was foolish even for you. That and you didn’t want the man any angrier at you than you expected he was going to be. You only got so far before you found yourself on the wrong side of town. You had never been in the area before, but you knew the type. Women posted on every corner, bars on the windows, broken glass and sticky residue staining the sidewalks. It didn’t take you long to find the kind of man you needed. Trading a handjob for a bus fare, a blowjob for a new pair of shoes, and a pitiful two minutes of dry thrusting for a hotel room. 

Back to your ways. Different city, different time, same person. A bird incapable of changing its tune.

You needed a real job. A record stood in your way of that, but surely there had to be something, anything, that would pay enough for you to keep a roof over your head without having to sell more of yourself. 

You needed a job, but you needed space more. As much as you could get. Immigration was out, no one wanted to host a felon, and you were limited to a certain area before your parole officer got testy with you. Fuck. A big cage, that’s what you were trapped in. One you could never get free from.

Your family. Your past. Your cell. Your city. Your whole fucking life, one cage after another. Freedom a concept rather than a reality. Simon could use it against you. He knew of your limits, hell, you fucking told him yourself over a phone call before you got released. Outlined every fucking sentence of where you could and couldn’t go. He knew all of it.

Taking another deep breath you forced your body to lie on the bed, you needed to calm down. You needed to think clearly and come up with a plan. Simon was still asleep in bed, he didn’t know where you were, you were fine. 

You were fine.

A good night’s sleep. That’s what you needed. Not likely with how wound tight you were. But you had to try. Anything to escape the panic squeezing your lungs.

___

It took four hours of staring blankly at a dark ceiling, on the edge of a panic attack the entire time, before your body gave in and let you sleep. It was light, but it was enough of a break in your consciousness. The sun was what woke you, shining on your eyes and causing you to squint. Your anxiety a gentle heart palpitation rather than the full blown panic it was last night, exhaustion dulling its edge. 

The first thing you did was go business to business looking for a place that was hiring. Most required a resume, those you didn’t even give a second glance (as they no doubt did background checks). It took all of the day before you found a shitty pub that only asked if you were old enough to drink. With a nod of your head an apron was shoved into your hands, and you were bussing for your first shift. 

The owner, a balding man who smelled like cigarettes and wore a sweat-stained wife beater, paid you cash. Enough that you were able to buy another night to cover your hotel room and not much else. You walked back to your temporary home, eyes darting to every tall man who crossed the street. For once, you were grateful Simon was such a large man. It would make him easier to spot in a crowd, the orange of a tiger’s fur stark against a green jungle.

When you returned back to your room, it was easy to explain the movement of your things. Hotels had housekeepers. You wouldn’t have even noticed it if it weren’t for your paranoid state. It wasn’t until you went to the bathroom, eager to wash away the grease and grime of the pub, that you noticed a small picture sitting face-down on the bathroom counter. Flipping it over revealed you. You, asleep in your shitty hotel bed, close-up, taken from inside. 

You were barely able to flip the toilet lid up before you lost your stomach contents. Vile burning the back of your throat was nothing in comparison to the panic that burned through your veins.

He was inside your hotel room. He was inside your hotel room last night with you. 

You barely managed to stand, legs shaking, leaving the bathroom you noticed other signs of his arrival. Dirty tracks that were much too large. The blinds wide-open even though you were sure you closed them before you went to sleep. A single dog tag resting underneath your pillow. It’s owner’s name mocking you.

Riley.

___

He left you more presents. Vestiges of him ever present in your life. It didn’t matter where you went, how many hotels you hopped, how many jobs you changed, he always found you. Truthfully, the both of you knew this song and dance could only go on for so long. You were low on cash and stuck orbiting around the same small area. Days bled into weeks bled into months. Fear gave way to anger. Anger that he wouldn’t leave you alone. Anger that he wouldn’t let you delude yourself into thinking you had found a safe space that he could not intrude on.

On your nth hotel, you decided you were staying. Simon be damned. He obviously had no intentions of killing you just yet, content in tormentation. That and there were only so many jobs willing to pay under-the-table. You needed to save up enough cash to prove that you had a steady place to live, a recommendation from your parole officer. This flightiness made the law suspicious at best and nervous at worst. 

You found your way back to the pub, who upgraded you to server. On the wrong side of town its patrons weren’t the best. But they tipped decent enough and if they got too handsy the owner always stepped in. A few pinches on the ass were worth a steady income. You’ve given a lot more of yourself for less.

Perhaps, that was your mistake, you got too comfortable with a wild animal. So sure that your exotic pet would not bite.

The first time you saw him, you thought it was a mistake. Despite his size Simon was able to go about your life as he pleased without you catching even a glimpse of him. Hell, you knew he could stalk you without you being aware of him at all (your prison stint was proof enough of that), he just chose not to. You shouldn’t have been surprised that his behavior would escalate. 

You were standing, dead on your feet after your shift working on three hours of sleep, waiting for the bus. And there he was. Across the street, large frame leaning against a wall, arms crossed. When you did a double glance, you were able to make out the tell-tale scars across his face. Then the bus came. It was a coin toss, boarding the bus. A part of you wanted to flee, figuring he could easily cross the street and board the same bus as you, but the alternative was worse. Let it pass and walk home alone. In the dark. With a predator at your heels. 

No.

Better to have people around you. Safety in numbers and all that.

The next day, he did it again. And again. And again. Each time coming closer and closer. Until one day you saw his large frame coming up the steps of the bus. You practically vibrated from anxiety in your seat, unshed tears blurring your vision as you stared straight ahead. The black blur of his jacket, the soft squeak of his boots as he moved closer and closer, until he took the seat right behind you.

You didn’t move. Frozen. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Or,

Fright.

Fright.

Fright. 

Until the bus moved and the decision was made for you. Only you couldn’t convince your muscles to move, stuck staring dead ahead. Willing the bus driving to glance in the mirror back at you. Willing the other passengers to notice how close the man behind you was sitting (close enough to feel his breath against your ear, close enough to smell the tobacco on his breath). But this was the last bus and everyone was too tired to notice. A herd of diurnal prey vs a nocturnal predator. It was clear who had the advantage.

You missed your stop. And the one after that. It wasn’t until you felt a violent shake on your shoulder that you jolted out of your trance, eyes darting up… to the bus driver. 

“Las’ stop miss. Gotta’ get off.” His voice firm. How long had he been calling out to you?

Giving a jerky nod you looked behind you, but Simon was gone.

___

It didn't stop there. Not that you expected it would, but fucking forgive you for having a little hope in life. Simon took to following a few steps behind you wherever you went. Sitting behind you on the bus. Sitting in the back of the pub, nursing beer after beer. Sometimes he had another man with him. But mostly he was alone. His eyes never left you. For weeks it went on. For weeks you felt his constant presence. 

The presents never stopped either. Photos of you, gifts for you (lingerie and cigarettes, the same shade of nail polish he gave you while you were in prison), things of his. He never relented. You never shook that feeling of being watched. You never could get rid of that pit of anxiety in your stomach. Exhaustion was starting to settle heavy in your bones. Give up. Give in. Give yourself to him. 

The temptation was intense. You just wanted to be done with it all. Let him do what he wanted with you. At this point, even death would be better than another day of constant anxiety. (Pursuit predator exhausting his prey, closing in). 

And then he was gone.

His absence was glaringly obvious on the first day, enough so that you thought for sure that you were going to die soon. Simon had reached some kind of breaking point. But you didn’t. And you didn’t see Simon.

There were no presents left for you. No signs of his stalking. No evidence that he was ever in your life at all. It was such a sudden and stark change that if it weren’t for his dog tag you would have thought you dreamed the whole thing. But he was gone. 

A day passed.

Then another.

And another.

The knot in your stomach slowly unworked itself. The tension ever present in your shoulders finally loosened. Weeks passed by. Then months. A part of you still worried. In prison there were times where Simon would go silent for months, but he always came back. And he always made sure to make up for lost times. More gifts, more phone calls, longer visits. It seemed that your anxiety was slowly chipped away, yet it was also slowly building itself back up again. 

But Simon stayed gone. More importantly, a date had been set for you to become a truly free woman. No parole. No restrictions. A chance to leave the country. A chance to truly be free.

A chance to slip away from Simon.

___

When a police officer knocked on your door, you had to fight back the panic.

You haven’t done anything wrong. 

It wasn’t until you were sitting across from your lawyer did you truly began to realize the situation you were in. His words sounded so far away, so garbled. As if you were trapped underwater, in a fishbowl, letting the world happen around you as you tapped at the glass.

“...Do you understand the situation you’re in?...Enough drugs to get an intent to distribute…a passport…tickets to another country…”

How did you get here?

“Are you listening to me?”

You snapped back to reality, the familiar cold cuffs biting into your wrists.

“Do they have to keep these on me?”

Your lawyer let out a sigh. “Don’t worry about the damn cuffs right now.”

Easy for him to say, he wasn’t the one wearing the damn cuffs.

“They’re distracting.” 

He ignored you. “They have you on video buying a plane ticket out of the country.”

You nodded. He didn’t mention the fact that your parole would’ve been up by then. Nothing wrong. You didn’t do anything wrong.

“They found enough cocaine in your hotel room to get intent to sell. With the plane ticket, and your erratic behavior after you got out of prison, things don’t look good for you.”

“It’s not mine I-” Your voice cracked and you cleared your throat, talking so quietly, trying to hold back tears. “I swear.”

Your lawyer didn’t look convinced. “That defense won’t hold up in court.”

He ran his hands through his hair. “Look, I was able to cut a deal for you. It’s better than prison. They’ll tag you-”

Dog tags flickered in your mind. “Huh?”

“House arrest.”

“Oh.”

“You won’t be able to use a hotel, you’ll have to go back to the original residence you reported when you got out of prison.”

"What?” Alarm bells rang through your sluggish thoughts.

Your lawyer sick of you interrupting him, bulldozed on. “Listen to me. I don’t know why they’re offering this to you, but you won’t get a second chance at this. Confess your crime. They’ll confine you to your house for three years and serve parole in tandem. You’ll only serve a year of parole once you’re out.”

Three years. Three years stuck at Simon’s house. Three years with Simon.

“What happens if I don’t take it.”

“You’ll go back to prison. Given you’ve already been, they'll try for maximum. You could be looking at twenty years, ten if you’re lucky. Life on parole.”

Walk into the tiger’s den or let him continue the chase.

How did you get here?

___

They put the ankle monitor on at Simon’s house, now your house you suppose. A part of you had wanted to tell them to take you back to prison instead. But you knew the reality of your situation. Simon would just do the same thing he did before. Get videos of you, pictures of you, he could still watch you in your cell. He would still visit you. And that’s just what he would do while you were in prison, what would happen when you were released again? You were never going to be able to escape him. At least this way you would be more comfortable.

A gilded cage.

Simon talked to the officers, but he seemed to make even them nervous, as they all but ran out of the house. You watched as they shut the door behind them, alone in a room with Simon for the first time in a long time.

How did you get here?

Simon put his hand on the back of your neck, before gliding it upwards jerking your head back. Your eyes met his, and he was smiling.

“Hello, bird.”

“Simon.”

He shuddered when you called his name.

“Missed you.”

“Don’t know how, you never left me.”

He grinned, boyish and proud of himself, “Never.”

Simon kissed you then, feeling far more familiar than he should’ve for a man you’ve only had sex with once. You turned, hoping to relieve some of the pressure in your neck, Simon’s hand stayed instead wrapping around your throat. He gave an experimental squeeze, making you whimper, before he released you.

“Gonna’ be good’ fer me?” He rasped.

You thought about it for a moment, and he let you, time frozen mid-air. But you had been running for so long. And you were so tired. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Or,

Surrender.

You had to stand on the tips of your toes to press your lips against his, white flag given. That’s all it took for the dam to break. Simon let out a growl and slammed you into the nearest wall, cradling your head so it didn’t bang against the wall with the force. His body caged you in as he deepened the kiss. You had forgotten just how intense it was to be so close to Simon.

He filled your senses. You breathed him in, you tasted him, you heard his soft grunts against your lips, felt the rough edge of his jeans as he ground himself against you, watched as his blonde eyelashes fluttered open until he was staring at you. Always watching. Even in these moments. 

Simon’s hand gripped your ass, grinding you harder against him, moaning from the friction.

“You owe’ me somethin’ birdie. Made your fiance wait so long. Such a fuckin’ tease.” He growled in your ear before fisting your shirt in two hands, ripping it with ease. Hands squeezing your bare tits so tight you expected to find bruises tomorrow.

Confusion knitted your brows together before he shoved you to your knees and you came face to face with his crotch.

How did you get here?

Your hands shook as you undid the button on his jeans, the zipper loud in between Simon and your panting. He helped you pull his jeans down his thighs, his cock dropping out, hard and angry.

Fuck.

You had forgotten just how big the man was down below. Time distorting the memory enough you had convinced yourself that he was average and you were just desperate that night. You were wrong of course. The man was hung as a fucking horse.

It had been awhile since you gave a blowjob. The steady pay the pub provided, the tips you made, pawning a few of Simon’s gifts and you had earned enough to not necessitate them. Not that it would help in this situation. Simon was big enough that all your previous tricks were rather useless. You weren’t even sure if you could open your mouth wide enough to take him, let alone take him down your throat. Your poor poor throat.

Tentatively, you leaned forward and gave the head a gentle kiss, glancing up and meeting Simon’s eyes. Your gaze left his, feeling suddenly shy despite the situation you were in. Pre dribbled and you used the chance to rub it along his sensitive head with your thumb. You gathered as much spit on your tongue licking the underside of his cock, pushing it all the way up until it pressed against his stomach. He groaned, hand resting on the back of your head. 

With his dick out of the way, you used your other hand to caress his balls before pressing soft kisses to them. You replaced your hand with your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue, using your hands to work his cock while you gave your attention elsewhere. His balls were much easier to fit in your mouth, but you could only delay the inevitable so long.

You pulled away fully, his cock falling under the weight of itself. The easy part done, now it was time for the hard part. Your gag reflex was not going to be happy. Bracing your hands against his thick thighs, feeling his muscles flex underneath your fingertips, you pressed your lips against the tip of his cock again, parting the seam of your mouth and letting him slowly slip in. Your tongue lying flat as he invaded your mouth.

Inch by overwhelming inch.

Before you had thought he was overwhelming, it was nowhere near as overwhelming as having his dick in your mouth. Gone were the lingering scents of tobacco and liquor. The outside world stripped away until just the man was left. Until only Simon’s musk filled your nose, wrinkling it as you took him a little deeper. Your jaw already ached from how wide you were stretching it.

Tired of your pace, Simon began to use your head as leverage as he pushed you further down, nails pressing crescents into his skin as you forced your body to relax. You quickly moved your hands back to the base of his length, stopping him from pushing you any further. Twisting your wrists to placate him enough to let you keep them there. Sucking to increase the pressure.

Simon moaned, hands going from gripping your head, to resting. Letting you work.

You took a deep breath through your nose as you began to work him in earnest. Swirling your tongue over the head of his cocked you began to bob faster and faster, unable to stop the lewd gurgling noises as the back of him hit your throat. His hands were at your head again, pushing himself further down your throat and back again. Setting his pace.

This wasn’t a blowjob he was fucking your throat. Using you. His dick twitched in his mouth before he pulled out, as you took in huge gulps of breath. Body hunching in on itself. You felt vulnerable like this. Kneeling in front of him, the top half of you completely nude.

You didn’t get much time to collect yourself before you were pulled to your feet, turned so that your back was pressed against his front, hands bracing against the wall. 

Simon kissed your neck, hooking his hands on your pants and jerking them down. They caught on your ankle monitor but he just tore them off, seams ripping. Your underwear was torn with a satisfying rip, before you felt the tip of his bare cock pressing against your hole. He thrusted against your slit, gathering your own slick before he reached a hand down, dragging his dick back before it caught on your hole.

You couldn’t help but whine at the stretch of him, un-prepped. He didn’t stop until his hips met yours, large hands bruising. He paused, leaning his weight onto you, sighing. As if being buried to the hilt in your cunt was the reprieve he had been looking for all his life.

“Missed her’ too. Did she mis’ me?” His voice was hoarse against your ear.

“Huh?”

He removed one hand from your hip bringing it to your clit, brushing one large knuckle against it, causing your knees to buckle. Simon chuckled, easily holding your weight against him.

“Don’ worry, won’ ever leave you for this long again Birdie.”

Simon licked your cheek causing you to try and jerk away from him, before the rough pad of his finger began to circle your clit, your pussy clenching around him almost painfully, grinding his hips into yours as if trying to fuck you deeper somehow. He pulled out before snapping into you. Again and again, hand never leaving your clit.

“Simon! Simon please! Don’t stop!” You couldn’t help but cry, bucking back against him as you felt an orgasm build quickly, faster than one had ever built before.

He growled into your ear. “Ain’t ever gonna run again Bird.”

You nodded your head, trying to do everything in your power to appease him to keep doing what he was doing. To keep thrusting. To keep his hand on your clit. To lick you again. Anything. Everything. You wanted him to consume you wholly.

“Ain’t gonna run no’ more. Ain’t gonna leave the house till everyon’ knows you’re mine.”

His hand left your clit, causing you to whine in protest, cradling your stomach. 

“Say it. Tell the whole fuckin’ world who you belong too.”

“You Simon! YoU! Simon! Simon please…plea-” You were babbling, until finally his hand went back to your clit.

“Don’t forget it.”

You came, cunt desperately clutching his cock, squealing as Simon didn’t even slow his thrusts. He pushed you through one orgasm onto the edge of overstimulation as he finally came with a grunt inside of you. He didn’t pull out, keeping his seed nuzzled safely near your womb.

You slumped against his arms, panting softly as the reality of your situation began to wash over you, naked except for the ankle monitor.

How did you get here?

It didn’t matter, because all roads led to Simon.

Tag list: @Sweetlike-sugarplum, @thatpersonamedrook, @aphinthestars, @misscaller06, @shushyoudontknowme, @youknowits-derea, @succubusvalentine, @sundaescreamcheese

[wonryllis]

PREVIEW2 : the hot dad next door (m) | park sunghoon.

﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ぃ ────𝗶𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝘁 𝗱𝗮𝗱 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁 𝗱𝗼𝗼𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂?

preview. the ever quintessential first time dad moves in next door with his five year old and finds it impossible not to fall for you, the pretty girl who gives his daughter cookies and him; the doll eyes. obsessed with your entire being, unable to keep his hands off you, park sunghoon questions if he's just crazy or he's crazy over you.

or where, he notices the way you look at his hands a little too long for it to be innocent.

meet the cast. single dad!park sunghoon with his pretty neighbour fem!reader.

genre. DILFF AUU !!, SMUT MDNI, fluff, neighbours to lovers, sunghoon is quite literally yes insanely crazed over you and for the sake of god can't keep his dick soft, domestic a little bit i guess, i want to make her my wife trope EEEKKK, slight age gap (hoon in late twenties and reader in early twenties) more to be added.

word count. 1.2k for this preview and around 20k for the whole fic.

warnings. inaccuracies about parenting cause i aint a parent, i got no idea. some hot making out in this one, dad sunghoon tired bothered from work yes it's a warning. more will be mentioned in the actual post.

check out the first preview!

"is ji— " sunghoon stands again at your door, few days later on the weekend. this time more formally dressed than normal, adorning a sleek tight fitted vest and a navy blue blazer with buttons fastened at his waist. hair styled and glasses sitting prettily on his nose bridge. the sweat trickling down his forehead and the heaviness in his breath making you feel things despite knowing it's because he's worried about his daughter with how late he got back.

"she's here don't worry, just fell asleep while waiting for you," you reassure his distraught self. being a single and new father took a much harder toll on him at times like these when he couldn't be with his angel and he honestly didn't know how he'd survive if it weren't for you.

his job asked a lot of him and he couldn't always asks his friends and family to look over her, to have someone like you beside him was a breath of relief.

"i'm sorry, the meeting lasted longer than i thought and then traffic—" he tries explaining, wishing you aren't fed up of him and his daughter yet.

"it's okay sunghoon, everything's fine. do you wanna have some wine before you go?"

in hopes of easing his stress and let his mind have a rest, you offer in a feeble tone of expectation.

sunghoon nods, sighing as he takes off his shoes slow and tired. trudging behind you as you walk over to the fridge to bring out the heavy bottle. you look up to smile at him across the counter while he slips off his blazer and folds up his sleeves, there's no way he does not know what he's doing. but then loser clueless sunghoon really is not aware of the effect his exposed arms have on you. his friends and colleagues have told and he probably remembers it at the back of his mind, but the thing is, he is not really trying at this moment, he's just tired from work.

hot and bothered. and being alone with you in a room like this is just making him feel hotter.

it takes him a second but when he notices you struggle to get the wine glasses from the shelf, he does not think much before walking over and grabbing them for you. his body behind yours, chest touching your back and with his hands stretched out it's like you trapped between him and the counter. the scent of your shampoo hits his nose and that's what makes him realize just how close he is to you.

he stands still for a moment, trying to inhale as much of you as he can, but when he feels you shift, about to turn around, he's immediately snapping out of it; stepping back in an instant.

"i-i'm sorry, just noticed you needed help so," he mumbles apologetically, rubbing the back of his neck in shyness like usual and yet again unaware of how much you did not want him to be sorry.

"yes, thank you sunghoon," you smile at him despite the little tinge of frustration at the back of your subconscious.

leading him to the couch, and sitting awfully close to him on purpose you put the glasses on the tea table, pouring in the wine as you discreetly watch him shift nervously beside you. sunghoon feels distressed and troubled, once again he can smell you the tingles of white musk playing his nostrils. and he can also feel your thigh rubbing against his, albeit obstruct by the fabric of his suit pant, still very much obvious. perhaps the wine will help him calm down.

"so how was your day?" you hand him the glass, taking your own and staring at him as you take a sip, waiting for him to answer.

you listen in patience as he rants about how all that could go wrong went wrong at work. gazing over features, and the way his clothes hugged him right. at some point, his brows furrow and he starts to frown, looking towards the balcony as he speaks.

it bothers you for some reason, you don't want him to be so stressed. with the slight intoxication of the wine in your system, you reach forward to take his glasses off, putting them away on the table alongside your empty wine glass. and tugging him closer by his wrinkled tie leave a little wet kiss, a spilt second of a first move and sunghoon swears he feels all his hesitations disappear.

his breath slows down and his face relaxes for that short moment your lips touch, internally malfunctioning at the situation, short circuiting in stillness, wide eyes and unmoving lips.

however as soon as he sees at the dazed look in your doll eyes when you pull away, all his nervousness flies out, for all he can think of is the way your lips moved on his, and how addicting it felt, like something he wanted to feel every single moment he possibly could.

"fuck," he pulls you back by the back of your head, quite literally engulfing your lips in a sloppy kiss, going berserk over the feel of you. his hands are quick to slip to your thighs carressing up and down a few times before grabbing them to haul you onto his lap. it's a mess. he can't seem to stop, kissing over your lips over and over again in soft nibbles, sometimes dragging a moment to suck on them. hands once again carressing from your thighs to your waist, holding you tight in his arms by there, yanking you closer.

it takes everything in him to pull away but it's only to catch and breath and there's no way he's letting this chance go. tucking a strand of hair behind your ear while your sweaty foreheads rest against each other.

just as he's leaning back in, still breathless,"dada?" the sound of jia's voice down the hall has you both immediately pushing away and sitting back down on the couch properly. sunghoon brushes back his wet hair and tugs at his tie before standing up to get his daughter.

"yes baby, dada's back. come on, let's go back," the way he picks her up and walks over to you makes your insides tingle, still not over the kiss.

"we're gonna be going then, thank you for—" sunghoon's eyes linger over the wine glasses and how messed up you look and he gulps before he continues,"having us over," his words sound deeper yet more innocent than the seductive meaning behind them.

you watch them walk out the door, waving jia and sunghoon good night as they unlock their front door and go in.

inside, his blazer still hung over the edge of the couch. a testament to the reality of all things that happened in the room. of it being more than just a dream. you enjoyed having jia over and taking care of her, it was never a nuisance and the fact that if you were to be together with sunghoon she would be your daughter too sounded more of a gift than a burden. you understood his situation, and despite not yet knowing of how and where jia's mom is, you trust him.

it was the start of a something sunghoon never wanted to end. and he could only hope you'd feel the same way. if only he knew how you felt.