#if say i only have $10 for my dinner tonight i could go buy groceries | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

igbylicious · 2 months ago

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whichever way [woosan x reader] pt13

pairing: woosan x f reader

rating: 18+

genre: smut, fluff-ish, neighbours au, FWB to QPR

ch. summary: San goes on a little journey of self-discovery with you.

wc: 14k

ch. warnings: sub San, switch / dom reader & Wooyoung, like 5 sec of manhandling & dryhumping, shibari / bondage, praise kink, body worship, cock-warming, orgasm denial, finger sucking, oral, dacryphilia, DVP (fingers & cock), creampie, cum play, Wooyoung fucks San’s tiddies, cum shot (on those same tiddies), multiple orgasms, condomless sex w/ an IUD, San is called ‘good boy’, reader is called ‘baby’ & ‘good girl’, one encounter of amatonormativity from a well-intentioned neighbour, potential second-hand embarrassment

a/n: features a soft-bodied, aromantic reader who uses she/her pronouns.

masterlist. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, epilogue

“Pick me, I’m tasty!” the little raccoon dog mascot on the instant noodles package says to you, in an adorably pitchy sing-song voice. San pokes his face out from behind the package, his open-mouthed smile so wide and bright he almost looks like a cartoon character himself.

You giggle at San’s antics, though you ignore the packet in his hands and reach for a different flavour from the store’s shelves. “Cute! But no; Wooyoung asked for this one,” you say, holding up the extra spicy variant.

“That’s what Wooyoung asked for, yes,” San pouts, reverting back to his normal voice, “but he always steals mine and leaves the hot ones for me. He can buy them himself if he wants them, I’m not doing this anymore! My mouth has burned enough.”

“Fine fine, this is a lovers’ quarrel I’m not getting involved in,” you laugh at San’s impassioned speech. “If he complains, I’m telling him it’s your fault!”

And so only the mildest of instant noodles end up in your cart before you go through the rest of the store. The separation between your groceries and those of San and Wooyoung grows blurrier with every trip; Wooyoung didn’t even ask if you were joining them for dinner, only how you felt about beef bibimbap for tonight.

It’s busy at the store today, meaning there’s a bit of a line for the cash registry. Bored by the wait, San toys with the strings of his hoodie. He fiddles with them for a while, then pulls the strings taut until the hoodie hides all but a glimpse of his face, his nose peeking out along with a tiny feline grin on his lips.

At first you just fondly watched him — but now you can’t resist temptation. You steal the strings away from San to tie them into a tight knot, trapping him in his hoodie.

“Ack!” San yelps, startled and pawing at your hands to get back control of the strings.

Giggling, you take mercy on him and undo the knot again. “Sorry, guess I’m in the mood to practice a little more ropework today,” you joke, taking off San’s hood and fixing a few upright tufts of his hair.

“Oh, are you now?” he says, his indignant sulk only tempting you to do it again. “Starting to regret I taught you anything at all. You have way too much power now.”

“The power of tying a simple knot?!” you laugh. “Don’t take too much credit, mister, I didn’t need you to teach me that one!”

But San has been teaching you. Eagerly, even.

From the moment you expressed an interest, San happily jumped on the chance to pass on his knowledge of bondage. He does teach for a living, after all; and though ropework is obviously a far cry from taekwondo, he instructed you with the same enthusiasm that he has for his students.

Meanwhile, Wooyoung happily volunteered himself as a practice subject. Sometimes he’d nag at you, so used to San’s skilful fingers that yours set off his impatience — but for the most part, Wooyoung proved unexpectedly useful, his candid feedback making it easier to get a feel for judging rope tension.

And although you’d first meant it as a joke to tease San, now you do actually feel an itch in your fingers.“So… could we? Practise some more today?” you ask, lowering your voice, keeping your words vague on purpose, although none of the staff or other customers are paying you any mind.

“Today?” San says, lines crinkling between his brows. “Ah, I don’t know, Wooyoung will be out to the movies with Yeosang later…”

“He’s going without you?” you ask, distracted by the new piece of information. “What, have you been hoarding Sangie too much to yourself again?”

San’s bottom lip juts into a pout. “I don’t hoard him, I’m just not into the movie!” he protests, so earnestly that you wonder if he really believes it, or if he’s forgotten about the time you saw him clinging onto Wooyoung’s childhood friend for an entire game night, stubborn in his attempts to lay a smooch on Yeosang’s cheek.

(Yeosang’s dramatic aversion to his friends’ kisses always gets a giggle out of you. He can’t fool you; you know from experience that San and Wooyoung would cut it out if he really minded it that much.)

“Though I guess we don’t need Woo,” San muses, smoothly turning the subject away from the Yeosang-hoarding allegations. “You could try some stuff on yourself, feel first-hand what you’re doing.”

“…Or I could practice on you…?” you suggest, half playful, half probing.

San blinks in surprise, like the thought had not occurred to him — but the conversation is put on a temporary halt when it’s your turn to check out your groceries. He frowns while packing everything up, thoughtful but also tentative, like it’s the first time he’s ever even considered to let someone tie him up.

San’s frown has faded by the time you step out of the store, but he still has a quiet, contemplative look on his face.

“No pressure, obviously,” you say, nudging his arm with your elbow. “About the practice thing. It was just a thought.”

“No no! It’s…” San shakes his head and gives you a small grin. “You know what? Let’s try it. Put your knowledge to the test!”

“Right,” you grin back at him, a little spring in your step as you walk back home together. There’s a gleam in San’s eyes too, growing brighter as he gets more and more used to the idea of trying something new with you.

It’s just a short walk back to the apartment building, where you come across your downstairs neighbour at the elevator; Mrs Yoon, a tiny old lady carrying a package that looks far too big and heavy for her.

San, ever the gentleman, immediately passes one of his grocery bags over to you and takes the box from Mrs Yoon.

“Always such a nice, helpful boy,” she coos over San, tip-toeing to reach and pinch his cheek. Mrs Yoon somewhat resembles a shrivelled apple, small and round and wrinkled — but any conversation proves that she’s still got plenty of juice left in her.

“Does he take such good care of you too?” she asks you, a playful glint in her eyes. “I’m sure he does, I can tell he’s great… ‘Boyfriend material’, that’s the word you young folk use nowadays, isn’t it?”

You flinch briefly, but recover fast. It’s not like this is the first time people have made assumptions about you and San, or you and Wooyoung. Hell, you and Hongjoong used to deal with this too. Through necessity you have cultivated a certain degree of resigned patience for these situations.

Still, it was long enough that San beats you to the punch, shaking his head at Mrs Yoon with a friendly smile. “No, Mrs Yoon, I’m—” he starts, but hesitates when a clear alternative fails to present itself.

It doesn’t matter anyway; she easily breezes past San’s protest. “And the other handsome young man, of course! I had not forgotten, don’t worry,” she says with a cheeky grin of joyful wrinkles, her giggle like a reedy cackle. “I heard the three of you spending your time together well.”

San’s cheeks go completely beet red, for a split-second you’re confused by his embarrassment — but then it sinks in what Mrs Yoon meant by having ‘heard’ you.

She heard you, just like you used to hear San and Wooyoung.

You stammer an apology, but she waves it off. “Oh hush,” she says firmly. “I was young once too, I know what it’s like. Good on you kids, you need to enjoy it while you can! It’s alright to have a little extra fun.”

The elevator dings as it reaches Mrs Yoon’s floor, and San almost trips over his feet as he walks her to her apartment to take the heavy package inside. You awkwardly wait for him to get back, embarrassment still flowing hotly in your veins. San does not look much better off when he shuffles back into the elevator, wordlessly taking back the grocery bag he passed over to you earlier so he could help your old, lively neighbour.

He clears his throat, trying for an easygoing grin. “For the record, I have been informed that Mrs Yoon very much enjoys the silence when she turns her hearing aid off, and doesn’t mind doing so at all.”

“Oh god,” you groan, wanting nothing more than to hide your face in your hands — except maybe sink through the elevator floor, letting yourself plummet straight to the bottom and down into the very core of the earth.

“At least she’s cool about non-monogamy?” San tries for a crooked smile, though redness still blooms across his cheeks. “Though I guess she only has half the right idea of us.”

“Yeah, I guess…” you say, still mulling on San’s earlier moment of speechlessness.

San frowns, concern gleaming in his eyes at your timid response. “You okay?” he asks; San is not unbothered by assumptions about the three of you either, but he knows they hit a little differently for you.

“Oh, yeah, yes I’m okay. I’m used to this stuff,” you say, and part of you hates how true that is. “It just kinda hit me that I don’t know what the ‘right’ idea about us is. Or how to put it into words, at least. We never really bothered to define much, did we?”

“No, we didn’t,” he says, opening the door to his apartment. “…I thought you preferred it that way? Not trying too hard to fit ourselves into a label?”

“True, true,” you admit, stepping inside. (You faintly hear Wooyoung’s voice from the living area.) “And I still don’t want to force anything. It’s just… inconvenient sometimes, you know.”

How would you describe San and Wooyoung? Your friends? Well, yes, but you don’t feel like that covers the full scope of things in this context. Partners? Too… formal. Definitely not your boyfriends. No matter what word pops up in your head, it chafes; nothing fits as smoothly as a simple ‘your San’ and ‘your Wooyoung’.

San glances over his shoulder as he hauls the grocery bags into the living area, raising an eyebrow at you. “Inconvenient for us, or inconvenient for other people?” he asks pointedly. “If we’re happy with how we do things, or what we call them, it’s not our problem if others get confused.”

You blink at San. “…Damn. Good point.”

“I make those sometimes!”

“Of course, some people try their damn best to turn it into our problem.”

“Shush. Don’t take this away from me,” San chides, but he quiets when he realises Wooyoung is talking to someone on video call. Wooyoung gives you a distracted wave, but stays focused on his conversation. Something about his most recent crafts project, customising an old jacket.

“Yeah, I saw the pictures, it looks good, I like how you placed the lettering,” the voice from Wooyoung’s phone says — and you break out into a smile when you recognise that voice, all else forgotten.

“Joong!” you say, wrapping a loose arm around Wooyoung’s shoulders as you slide up behind him, stoked to see your oldest friend on the screen. He’s currently rocking cranberry red hair, matched with a grungy blazer, and grins when he sees you.

You embrace this chance for a brief but lively surprise meeting, always missing Hongjoong; even if he did come over for a visit just a few weeks ago.

During that time, he and Wooyoung rapidly developed the type of friendship where you’re not always sure if Hongjoong adores Wooyoung to absolute bits, or if he wants to stick him behind the wallpaper. (Though today clearly is an adoration day.) San is still a little quiet around Hongjoong, anxious for approval from your best friend, so he shyly hangs around in the back while you and Wooyoung chat/bicker with Hongjoong.

It’s not too long before the call ends, some work schedule thing forcing Hongjoong to leave. Work has kept him real busy lately, and you quietly resolve to send him a little care package this week.

Once Hongjoong disappears from his phone’s screen, Wooyoung turns to you.

“What was that talk earlier when you guys came back? Sounded kinda serious. Were you overthinking again?”

“I wasn’t overthi—! …Okay, yeah fine maybe I was,” you admit.

“About what?”

“Labels,” San pipes up from the kitchenette. “Hey, you gonna help me out here?”

“Sorry, yeah!” You join San to properly finish up the chore of grocery shopping together, and smile when you find one packet of spicy noodles between the milder ones as you put them away.

Wooyoung’s face wrinkles up. “You were overthinking labels? I thought you were on my side about those.”

(Like you, Wooyoung also does not feel a strong need to confine your relationship within strict definitions. San is the most traditional-minded out of your trio when it comes to these things; but he values happiness over conformity a million times over, content to let the issue rest for your and Wooyoung’s comfort.)

“I am, I am!” you say. “Mrs Yoon just punted me into a five-second long spiral when she pretty much called San my boyfriend and we didn’t know how to correct her. I’ve unspiralled already, I swear! Crisis over before it even started.”

“No, fair enough,” Wooyoung allows. “‘My non-romantic life partner who I fuck on the regular’ just doesn’t roll off the tongue, does it?”

“Nope. But…” You trail off, recognising an opportunity to smoothly slide into a topic that crossed your mind recently. “‘My neighbour’ is also technically correct, I suppose,” you say cheekily, smiling when San instantly grouses at the distant, casual term, “but who’s to say we’ll be neighbours forever? I mean, it’d be cool to at least upgrade to ‘roommates’ someday, right?”

For a split moment, the guys are struck silent by the suggestion. Not that long ago, it would’ve been enough to punt you into another five-second spiral, fretting whether you massively misjudged the situation — but it’s not enough anymore. You’re steadier than that by now, secure in your place within this barely-defined relationship.

And surely a gradual smile breaks out on Wooyoung’s face like in slow-motion, his eyes shining in delight. You let out an ‘umph’ when two strong arms suddenly wrap around you from behind, San’s reassuring weight settling against you.

“Yeah. That’d be cool,” San murmurs as he pulls you firmly into him, pressing his cheek against the side of your head.

“Hadn’t expected you to be the one to bring that up,” Wooyoung says, his teasing grin undermined by the softness drawn into his face.

You lean back into San with a little scoff, rolling your eyes half-playfully, half-serious. “Hey c’mon, stop acting like I’ll bolt at the tiniest whiff of commitment! I’ve proven enough by now that you guys are stuck with me, right?”

“Okay okay,” San says with a laugh, “we’ll try to stop treating you like a flight risk! It’s just— Me and Woo talked about this like, a few days ago.”

“Pff, ‘talked’?” Wooyoung huffs, coming over to put an arm around San, who still has his arms around you. “What San means is he picked a fight with me about it.”

“A fight?!” You turn your head to look back at them, blinking in confusion.

“A real stupid one too!”

“Hey, don’t say it like that, she’s gonna get the wrong idea!” San protests. “It was just a misunderstanding is all!”

“Guys…”

“All I said was that the apartment is feeling a bit small these days, that next time we should look for something bigger, a better fit for us!” Wooyoung sighs. “There I was, trying to throw you a hint, but you just started sulking and grumbling at me like I’d already packed my bags to move out and abandon her the next day!”

“Really?” you ask, a smile breaking out on your face at San’s abashed disgruntlement.

Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “He got so cross at the idea of not being neighbours that he didn’t even bother to actually listen to what I was saying. Why do you think the apartment felt too damn small, you idiot?”

“Just didn’t sit right with me,” San mumbles. “The idea of not living next to each other. Or with each other. Not being close.”

“Which is why I brought it up,” Wooyoung says, poking at San’s cheek. “I thought we should talk about it before becomes a thing.” His eyes flicker to you, seriousness smoothing over his face. “So yeah, you beat us to the punch. It’s not like I’m in a rush or got it all planned out or anything, I mean I just moved here, but… I don’t know, did we get lazy? About us, about figuring stuff out?”

Warmth spreads through your chest as you listen to them, but Wooyoung’s question brings you a little closer back down to earth.

“Maybe? Yeah, maybe we did get complacent,” you admit. Nothing wrong with not labelling things but… “We never really bothered to sit down and talk things through after the whole ‘hey, let’s stick together for a long time’ talk, yeah. Never talked about what that actually looks like.”

“We were too busy enjoying the moment to think ahead, yeah,” San says with a breathy chuckle, clutching a little tighter onto you.

“To be fair,” Wooyoung says, a grin returning to his lips, “the moments have been pretty damn great. So… does that settle it? Next place we move into, we move in together? Something nice and a little bigger, with an extra bedroom so you got your own space?”

“For someone who doesn’t have it all planned out, you sure put a lot of thought into it,” you giggle, reaching a hand to find Wooyoung’s. “Yeah. That settles it.”

“So. You got upset at the thought of not living next to me, huh?” You give San a cheeky grin, unable to resist teasing him about earlier. “That’s cute.”

You’re both kneeling on his bed, some soft music playing in the background. Dressed for comfort, San is wearing his grey sweatpants and a fitted t-shirt — and you just finished tying a rope around his wrists, after he took you through a refresher of some basics. San was in the middle of diligently inspecting your work, but your teasing has knocked him straight out of teacher mode, into pouty mode.

“Shut up, Wooyoung wasn’t as obvious about his ‘hints’ as he made it sound,” he sulks. He looks back down on the rope, then gives you a heavy side-eye. “…Did you wait on purpose to make fun of me until I was tied up?”

“No way, I’d never make fun of you for being cute,” you say matter-of-factly.

San squints suspiciously at your tone, trying to figure out if you are, in fact, making fun of him again.

“Okay but seriously, does this feel alright?” you ask, squeezing his bound hands. San had stayed mostly quiet when you tied him up; you don’t need much instruction anymore for basic knots — but you did catch a few steadying breaths from him, the bondage clearly having some effect on San.

“It’s… different,” he says hesitantly.

“Need me to take them off?” you ask at once, ready to pry the knot loose, but San shakes his head.

“No, no, they can stay on. It just—” San frowns, struggling for words. “It’s just not my usual thing,” he eventually settles on. “Letting go of control… It’s not exactly my strong point.”

“Ah, so this is not just practice for me, but for you too!” you tease, but you rub a reassuring thumb over his knuckles as you do so. Curiosity nags at you, and you finally ask the question that’s been on your mind ever since you first suggested using him as your guinea pig. “…Is this your first time getting tied up?”

“I used to practice on myself, way back, but other than that? Yeah, first time.” San chuckles at your contemplative expression. “What’s with that face? It can’t be a surprise that a dom doesn’t get tied up on the regular, can it?”

You shrug. “I mean, you’re usually in charge, yeah; being submissive is clearly not your go-to. But never? I don’t know, the few times we mixed things up… you enjoyed it, right? Like the morning after I stayed over? You can’t tell me you weren’t into getting spoiled like that!”

San gives a little head-tilt, as if to say ‘fair enough’. “I was,” he allows with a tiny smile, bursting with memories. “It… it’s nice when I really need it, I guess.”

His answer churns inside you for a moment, and you mislike the way it settles in your stomach. It’s true; San rarely is submissive unless stress or exhaustion has gotten to him.

“Um, San? Listen, I won’t push anything on you,” you say, carefully, feeling especially cognisant of the fact you have him tied up with nowhere to go. “But… you know you don’t have to need it, right? I’m more than happy to switch things up when you want to. Same for Wooyoung, I’m sure!”

San goes quiet, looking down at his bound wrists like he’s searching for some epiphany in the place where rope presses against his skin.

You smile faintly, and raise a soft hand to cup his cheek. “Just think about it, alright? No wrong answers.”

San’s eyes flutter shut as he nuzzles into your palm. He sighs, something releasing inside him. Letting go of just a tiny scrap of control, maybe.

“Want to take it off now?” you ask, and untie the knot when San nods quietly.

“…I did like the feel of the rope,” San admits after you finish, a hesitant smile tugging at his lips. “I… I liked how it felt to have someone else put it on me.”

A sweet, gentle bloom swells up inside you. “I’m glad,” you smile back at San. “I liked practising on you.”

“Maybe,” he starts slowly, giving you a bashful look like he’s embarrassed by what he is about to say next, “maybe we don’t need to be done practising? Do you want to try something else?”

Now there’s an offer you can hardly refuse.

San’s suggestion is a little more complex than a simple restriction of the wrists, so you go and grab him some water while he pulls up a few visual references on his phone to show you what the end-goal looks like. When you step back into the bedroom, San has pulled off his t-shirt, waiting for you with a dimpled smile and his bare upper body at your disposal.

There is always something magnetic about San’s impressive physique; but now the musculature draws you in more than ever, knowing you’ll be working so closely to it, demanding your full attention.

“Show-off,” you mumble, rolling your eyes like you aren’t fighting off heat rising to your cheeks.

“What, want me to put my shirt back on?” San asks, his smile curving into a cocky grin.

“…No.”

With the matter of San’s shirt settled, you sink back into the ropework together.

You get why San likes it. The shared intimacy, drawing closer to one another with every hitch or knot. The focused methodology behind it, how the world seems to disappear into nothing but the rope in your hands and the person you use it on, allowing all else to fade from your mind. You’ve always felt there is something meditative about the act of being tied up, but now you realise the reversal is also true.

After all your previous practising, you start to fall into a trained rhythm; you used to get frustrated with your own clumsiness, but now your fingers mostly remember what they are supposed to do.

Still, this new endeavour is a little trickier than a simple cuff around the wrists and so San speaks up more often, guiding you through the steps;

“Careful with placement, we don’t want to pinch anything here. Yes, yes that’s good, Pull the pressure down, we’re always going down the arm. That’s it, you got it. Little tighter. Yep, little more. Don’t be scared the cinch is too much, I’ll tell you if there’s a problem.”

A few simple lines of rope are laid around the width of San’s upper torso, hugging his pecs and providing a basis for you to work a ladder tie down the length of his arm. As you relax into the looping pattern, so does San. He falls quiet again, drawing deep, slow breaths as he intently follows the movement of your hands, his eyes gleaming with cat-like curiosity.

When you finish the first of San’s arms, tying the last hitch above his wrist and locking off the rope, you draw back a little to fully take in the result.

It’s interesting; bondage often has a way of making Wooyoung look smaller than he is, like all his boundless energy is snugly contained within the corded restraints. But for San, it’s the polar opposite.

The shibari accentuates the broadness of his chest and shoulders; his muscles bulge under the looping pattern whenever he moves, like he is bursting at the seams. Heated pressure builds in your abdomen at the sight of him, then your eyes wander down to San’s wrist.

There’s a fair bit of tail end to the rope, dangling down his wrist as leftover after that last hitch — and you’d worried it would take away from the aesthetics of the shibari, but instead the length of rope lures you in, whispering for you to grab the end and pull, tugging San closer to you. To test the power he emits; whether he would submit regardless of physical strength.

“Still got another arm to go,” San reminds you, a teasing glint in his eyes at how distracted you are by his appearance. But his voice is low and husky, your distracted state also causing a sharp heat to coil tightly inside him.

Though you still make sure to be safe and precise, the brush of your fingers over San’s other arm is not as relaxed this time around.

The heat radiating from his skin somehow feels warmer than before, his gaze burning into your hands as you work. San’s breaths grow heavier with every corded loop around his arm, and he is visibly antsy by the time you finish up at his wrist — and now you don’t resist your earlier urges. With a playful grin, you take both ends of the rope in your hands and give them a soft tug, just to tease.

San grunts as you pull him in closer, fiery intensity crackling around him, and the grin is wiped right off your face when he bites his lip, hooded eyes piercing straight through you.

“Fuck,” you breathe, shifting your thighs and all too aware of the wetness gathering between them, “Wooyoung’d go crazy if he saw you right now.”

(You distantly wonder what time it is; how much longer until Wooyoung steps back out that cinema. There’s decent odds he’ll head straight home, knowing you and San are practising without him.)

San’s lips curve sharply. “Yeah? I look hot like this?” he baits.

“Ugh, you are so needy,” you say, but the flustered laugh in your voice belies the reprimand. “Yes, you look good. Wooyoung would fold within the blink of an eye.” (You would fold even faster.) “He better get home soon, he’s gonna be so fucking upset if he misses out on this.”

“Serves him right for being such a damn brat lately,” San huffs, though there is an eager twinkle in his eyes.

“Don’t be like that!” You shake your head with another laugh, then move off the bed and beckon San onto his feet. “Come, see for yourself how hot you look.”

Still holding onto the rope-ends at San’s wrists, you lead him towards the mirror, and San follows with a slow smile. He barely even spares his own reflection a glance, too distracted by your hands, the subtle control emitted by your loose grip on the rope.

His fingers twitch, and then San catches you by surprise by yanking his own hands back, throwing you off balance. You release the rope with a squeak and stumble forward — but before you can bump into San, his hands find your hips and you let out a soft ‘umph’ as he pins you against the wall, the mirror now completely ignored.

“Don’t need to see,” San breathes, his chest pressing up against yours. “Can tell plain as day from your reaction.” Even through your clothes you can feel the press of rope and warmth radiating off of him. It’s like you’re caged in by a wall of heat, his fingers solidly pressing into your waist. San leans in, the tip of his nose brushing against yours as his gaze flutters down to your lips, his head tilting ever so slightly. The intent to kiss is more than obvious, but San waits, leaving that final step to you.

Your head is in a daze, still a little stunned from the sudden switch-up. Then again, it’s not like you didn’t notice how worked up San got from this little experiment — hell, the dampness already soaking through your panties is proof you’ve gotten plenty worked up yourself.

“Yes,” you gasp in answer to his silent question. You can’t remember raising your hand, but suddenly your fingers are tangled into San’s hair and you pull him forward, bridging that tiny gap between your mouths.

He groans lowly, his tongue instantly probing to tease your lips apart into a messy, urgent kiss. You hang onto San for dear life as he kisses you senseless against the wall, every ounce of pent up energy released all at once. He whines into your mouth when you grab onto his ass, at which he roughly grinds into you, guiding you to hook a leg around his waist. The growing hardness of his cock sends sparks through your clothed cunt, and you rut back into him in equal measure, encouraging more whines past his lips.

San’s hands slip underneath your shirt, only breaking the kiss to quickly discard it, and then he is back on you. He is everywhere it feels like, his touch roaming over your heated body, the cords across his arms and torso grazing over your bra and bare skin. You palm at his chest, at the swell of his tits emphasised by the rope you laid there yourself, thumbing at his dark nipples and delighting in the small, desperate noises San makes against your mouth.

“Can you—?” he groans, plying your neck with wet kisses. “Fuck, please— I— I want—”

“S-slow down, Sannie,” you gasp, putting your hands on his waist to steady the roll of his hips. “What is it? Tell me, tell me what you want.”

He whines into your neck, teeth catching against skin, but the desirous fog lifts slightly from San when you cup his cheek and lift him to meet your gaze. He smiles faintly at the eye-contact, fondness melting into his features. His cheeks are flushed — and you are startled to realise it’s not just from arousal. San is self-conscious.

“Want you to tie me up,” he mutters, his eyes breaking away from yours as he presses a tiny kiss on the corner of your mouth. “Wanna try it again.”

You blink in surprise, backing away from his lips. “Wait, like tied up tied up? San, are you sure?”

San slowly catches his breath, forcing himself to look you in the eye again. “So fucking sure,” he says, his thumbs drawing slow circles into your waist. “Let’s try it, I trust you. …Besides, it’ll keep us busy until Wooyoung gets back, right?”

“God, you are such a softie,” you laugh breathlessly, amused at how quickly he changed his tune about Wooyoung. “What happened to ‘serves him right’? No conviction whatsoever.”

“Yeah,” he grins, giving a slow roll of his hips. “What are you gonna do about it? Teach me some?”

Fuck. Inviting San to take on a more submissive role had not been entirely selfless on your part — you can’t deny your own excitement over this turn of events — but you had offered it with zero pressure; and definitely no expectation that San might take you up on it the very same evening.

“Hang on, Sannie,” you slow him down again, tempering the heat of the moment. You don’t want him barging face-first into something like this without thinking it through. “You really are sure?”

San’s grin fades into something more serious, giving you the distinct impression he started thinking this through ever since you suggested practising on him back at the grocery store. “Yeah. I’m sure if you’re sure,” he says, looking over you for signs of hesitation on your side.

“Oh, I’m sure!” (In your case, you know for a fact you’ve thought this through ever since that conversation.)

“Good,” he says, cheeks dimpling. “I want this. I want to try this with you.”

The persuasive power of San’s dimples is the final nudge that seals the deal. San brightens with delight when you grab his hand and pull him back to the bed, ushering him to lay down. You have a brief talk about the exact whats and hows; but it’s immediately obvious that you’re on the same wavelength.

(But first you send Wooyoung a vague text, implying it’d be better he doesn’t bring Yeosang over to the apartment for drinks after the movie showing, just in case. He replies quickly, leading you to suspect the movie has already finished, and you answer his 👀 with a short but simple “it’s a secret 🤭”. It’s a lot more civilised than the way you and Wooyoung had clued San in a while back, which San points out with a huff, but you gently shush him and set to work.)

San’s breath shallows as you push him flat down on his back, then spread his arms to tie him to the bedposts. His voice slightly hoarse, San talks you through adjusting the ladder-ties over the length of his arms, making sure they’re still comfortable in the changed position, while he follows your every move with soulful eyes, trying not to fidget.

“Relax,” you murmur after you’re finished, stroking San’s cheek to smooth away his jittery energy. “I got you. Gonna take care of you.”

There is a strange hush in the room as San nods quietly in response, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows in anticipation. “I know. I’m not nervous,” he says, sighing when you softly kiss his forehead. “I’m just a bit… nervous. But not like that, you know? Like—”

“You know what you are? Rambling,” you laugh fondly, and leave another soft kiss on his lips.

He chuckles back at you, his eyes crinkling. “Sorry.”

“Hm-hm,” you hum, shaking your head. “Don’t be. You’re just really cute today.”

The rosy flush across San’s cheeks intensifies, proving your point.

“And also,” you say, straddling San so you can drape yourself over his prone, helpless body, “hot as fuck.”

He groans when you press your lips against his, tongues intertwining messily as you deepen the kiss. You’re both still partially clothed, but you will rectify that later. Just want to take your time easing San into it first.

Shudders run through him at even the lightest touch, your fingers teasing along the lengths of rope across his torso, delighting in how he arches up to chase you. Soon any remnants of San’s tension have melted away, pleasure rippling through him wherever your hands go.

San whines when your mouth breaks away from his, kiss-swollen lips pouting up at you, but the sound turns into ragged gasps when you suck a wet path down the freckles on his neck. You briefly nip at the mole on his collarbone, then trail further downward.

He hisses a quiet curse as your tongue flicks over a pebbled nipple, your hands grazing so lightly over his stomach that he twitches underneath. The distinct definition of his abs has faded, ever since he switched up his gym routine a while back.

Honestly, you like it this way. You like feeling the softness of him underneath your palms, and what it signifies.

San might be one of those rare types who genuinely enjoys a rigorous workout — but he has complained his fair share about the strife of maintaining a sixpack. Now it’s like he has relaxed a little, prioritising his own preferences over any attempts to impress you or Wooyoung. Trusting that he impresses just by being himself, following his own way.

Small sighs and moans are steadily escaping past San’s lips, his hands clenching and releasing uselessly as he itches to reach out and touch you back. Clearly his nervous-not-nerves have settled… which means you can start teasing him.

“Let’s get these off, shall we,” you demand, tugging at the waistband of his sweats.

San eagerly lifts his hips to help you, exposing his half-hard dick to your touch. Even after all this time, you bite your lip in appreciation at the sight of him, thick and slightly curved, warm but dry in your palm. You lean down, working your jaw for a thick globule of spit to fix that problem. San groans lowly when your fingers curl around the base of his cock and your tongue darts out, slathering him with slow, messy strokes until he is glistening and hard.

You relish San’s hitched breaths, the tilt of his hips as he arches into you. “Ahh fuck, feels good…” he gasps when you lap at his slit, shifting restlessly at your languid pace. He rocks up against your mouth lavishing his hardening cock, trying to convince you to take him inside — but you are in control today, and you have other plans.

San’s hips jerk when your mouth abandons his cock to press a kiss on his thigh, the moan escaping past his lips loud.

“Hm, n-no c’mon, baby—” he whines, hips bucking up as his eyes squeeze shut, a tear clinging to his lashes.

Your eyes widen at the intensity of his response, sending a searing pulse straight down your abdomen. You run a soothing hand over his leg, but the light touch only makes him antsier, body contorting in a desperate attempt to get you back where he needs you. “Fuck, just look at you…” you say in a quiet hush, your thumb rubbing circles over a trio of moles on his inner thigh. “Still doing okay, Sannie?”

The question sobers him up, but only a little, his eyes still dazed with need. “Y-yeah, sorry,” he mumbles, abashed, like he too is surprised by his own intensity.

“Fuck no, don’t be,” you assure him with a breathy chuckle, rubbing your thighs together restlessly in an attempt to relieve your own tension. “I like seeing you like this. Fucking gorgeous.”

The beautiful flush on his face has crept down his neck and chest, giving him a feverish glow. Muscles ripple underneath the rope harness as he squirms against his bound wrists; all his strength rendered useless, caged underneath you.

San groans at the praise, his head falling back against the pillow, eyes squeezing shut like he can’t withstand the force of your reverent gaze — but it doesn’t help him to escape your touch, gentle fingers also expressing their reverence of him as they wrap around his leaking cock again.

Hunger gnaws at you, craving to ravish San until he can’t take it anymore, until he has nothing left to give, every last ounce of pleasure wrested from his body. The glide of your palm over his thick length is easy now, but you keep a deliberate, unhurried pace to slowly drive San up the wall. His small moans and hiccuped breaths send sparks of heat through you. Arousal joined by awe and gratitude; that San lets you see him, have him, like this.

It’s when a lone tear finally escapes San’s lashes that you can’t stand it anymore, breaking away to haphazardly shuck off your clothes. San watches the uncovering of bare skin in a haze, eyes heavy-lidded and his tongue darting out to wet his lips when you smoothly unclip your bra and throw it aside. His hands flex instinctively as you take a moment to knead at your breasts, reminding him of what he can’t touch.

“Please…” San begs, and his eyes glimmer so sweetly that your resolve to tease him crumbles. There is no denying that soft expression.

San lets out a groan of excitement when you shift forward and lean down. Eagerly he latches onto your chest, suckling and nipping at the soft flesh with noisy enthusiasm, lips smacking wetly as he cranes his neck to smother himself between your breasts. You shudder at his fervour, shakily carding your fingers through his hair in encouragement.

“That’s it, there’s a good boy,” you moan. “Making me feel so good, fuck.” You kiss the top of his head, gasping when he mouths harshly at your nipple, growing rough in his sweet worship. It’s a limited window of opportunity you have given him and San uses it with purpose, devouring as much of you as he can.

You indulge him for a moment longer, indulge yourself, until it is time to remind San who is in charge. He whines when you pull away, trying to follow after the softness of your chest — but the ropes binding him to the bedposts pull taut. San groans in exasperation, like he had forgotten his current predicament entirely, too lost in the pleasure of pleasing you.

“N-no, wanna—” he starts, you put a silencing finger on his lips.

“Behave for me, hm? Can you do that?”

San whines, shifting restlessly underneath you, but he slowly quiets down. “I— I’ll behave,” he says, desperation glittering in his gaze as he looks up at you.

“Good,” you hum, pecking his nose before you rise up and settle back down on his thighs.

Already he looks half-way wrecked, his damp hair mussed up and a sheen of sweat gathered on his skin. His cock is flushed a deep, dark red, resting in a wet patch on his stomach where precum oozes from the tip. Just a light touch of your hand is enough to make San hiss sharply, and the tremors through his body are a clear warning sign of how close he is already. Slowly you push him further, pumping him with firm strokes.

San’s hips jerk up before he can catch himself, his resolve to behave immediately tested. He swears under his breath, pitiful moans spilling past his lips as he manages to regain himself — moans that turn absolutely wretched when he sees how your free hand dips down between your thighs.

You sigh blissfully as you push two fingers inside. They’re sucked in so very easily, your cunt sopping wet without a single touch; to play with San like this is already enough. His breath picks up fast, eyes rolling back at the squelching noises from your hands working in tandem. Every heave of his chest is laboured, his back arching up prettily for you as his moans grow in pitch.

“Fuck, baby, I can’t— M-more, need more,” he whines, futilely tugging at the ropes.

“So greedy,” you say, a slow grin on your lips. “Is my hand not enough for you? You need my cunt too?”

San groans, frustrated and desperate. He’s truly feeling that lack of control by now, unable to reach out and grab your waist. Any other day he would bounce you helplessly on his cock or to flip you over entirely, fucking you so deep and hard you feel him for days after.

But right now? San can’t do any of those things. Instead he’s reduced to a powerless sulk, his thighs twitching underneath you. “Unfair,” he mumbles weakly, his bottom lip sticking out petulantly at your refusal to just give him what he wants.

“Unfair? Are you saying I’m a mean dom?” You gasp in faux-affront, releasing his cock to raise your fingers to your lips, smearing them accidentally-on-purpose with the salty glisten of precum.

He whines at the loss of your hand, trying to buck his hips. “J-just wanna be inside you…”

“Ahh… Well, if that is what you want…” you hum, and languidly slide forward to reposition yourself. San chokes on a moan when you hold onto the base of his cock, find the right angle, and then sink down. You suck in a sharp breath at the sudden pressure on your walls, stretching you open; two of your fingers are not quite enough to properly loosen yourself up for the girth of San’s thick length — but you welcome the burn, savour how your body is forced to adjust itself to San, gradually accommodating to the shape of him inside your cunt.

“F-fuck, so tight, so fucking—” San rasps, his hands clenching into fists so tight the knuckles whiten. He twitches inside you, tension pulled so taut that for a moment you think he’s going to cum on the spot, but somehow San pulls himself back from the brink.

“Good boy,” you purr, bracing one hand on San’s flushed, heaving chest so you can use the other to wipe his sweat-matted hair out of his eyes. “Doing so well for me.”

Your fingers trail down the side of his face and to your surprise, San turns his head to suck them into his mouth. He noisily slurps around them with teary eyes, his pleading look shooting straight down to your stuffed cunt. You swallow hard as San’s tongue laves your fingers in wet heat, a messy trail of spittle trickling down his chin when you pull your hand away.

Glistening with San’s saliva, your fingers slide easily through your folds to find your clit. You sigh in bliss as you leisurely rub at the sensitive nub, drinking how San squirms and gasps with every clench around his throbbing cock. His watery eyes are transfixed by the slippery swirl of your fingerpads, unable to look away.

However, even in his hazy state, San quickly realises you’re not actually moving. “H-hey—”

“Uh-uh,” you hum in warning when his hips buck, lightly pinching his nipple. “No rushing things today, Sannie. Thought you wanted me to keep you busy until Wooyoung gets back.”

San groans as he tries to buck again, but unable to get proper leverage. “Baby, we don’t even know when he’s coming home to us,” he whines.

“True, true,” you admit, though your earlier text probably did plenty to sway Wooyoung towards a quick return. “But there’s an easy way to check that.”

You’re careful not to let San slip out of your wet cunt while you reach for your phone, inspired by your recent shenanigans with Wooyoung. But despite being the one who is in the room with you this time, somehow San plays the part of your victim yet again.

San seems to realise the same thing. “You are a mean dom,” he says, an admonishing look on his flushed face. “You better give Woo a hard time, you owe me that mu—”

“You better stay quiet,” you interrupt him with a grin. “What if Yeosang is still there, hm? Wouldn’t want him to overhear anything… untoward.”

He whines again, pulling against his bindings. “Why am I always the one getting bullied?” he protests, like he never bullies you (and especially Wooyoung) when he’s in charge. “You really enjoy tormenting me that much?”

“What I enjoy, is seeing you pout,” you tease him, truthfully, and unlock your phone to call Wooyoung.

San sighs in exasperation, biting his lip to try and rob you of that beloved pout; but he only manages for a split-second before it’s right back on his face. The endearing sight bubbles warmly in your chest, yet the futility of his protest sparks heat between your thighs. As much as you’re trying to draw this all out, you’re slowly losing the battle to sit still on his cock — and the excitement that crackles through you as you wait for Wooyoung to answer his phone doesn’t help.

Wooyoung picks up, and immediately gets down to business. “What’s the secret?” he demands impatiently.

You giggle at his eagerness, deliberately keeping the call off speaker so San only hears your side of the conversation. “Telling you would kinda defeat the point, wouldn’t it? Where are you?”

There’s barely any background noise, leaving you confused over his current location. Wooyoung wouldn’t have picked up this quick if he was still with Yeosang, but clearly he isn’t out on the streets or riding public transportation either.

Wooyoung chuckles. “Where am I? Hmm… it’s a secret.”

He says it with such an air of mystery that you blink and look over your shoulder, half-expecting to see him standing in the doorway — and immediately feel silly when no one’s there, obviously. You would’ve heard Wooyoung’s voice if he was already in the room with you.

“Funny. Is that a ‘I’m five minutes away’ secret or a ‘go to bed without me, we’ll see each other in the morning’ secret?” you ask, squeezing around San just to be a menace. He visibly strains to keep quiet, face contorted as he bites down a whine.

“Oh, we’ll see each other soon I think,” Wooyoung hums, and you faintly hear what sounds like his footsteps through the phone. “So, spill. What is it? Did you finally get a strap?”

“Fuck.” This time, the squeeze of your walls around San’s is entirely involuntary, and a tiny whimper finds its way past his lips.

“Gonna take that as a ‘no’. Also… speaking of where people are, how about Sannie?” Wooyoung asks. (You wonder if he heard the noise.) “Is this secret a solo endeavour or is he around somewhere?”

“He’s… busy,” you grin. You draw a teasing finger over San’s chest, parallel to the lines of his harness. Another whine spills over as he twitches under your touch, like the press of the rope against his skin has made him even more sensitive than usual.

“Even more secrets. Interesting,” Wooyoung muses to himself; but one particular secret is solved when you distantly hear the front door of the apartment open. He giggles when your breath catches, knowing he gave himself away. “See you soon, alright?” he says, and loudly slams the door shut on purpose.

San jerks at the sound, his eyes widening with realisation. He breaths hard underneath you, his cock giving a violent twitch.

“Over here!” you call out to Wooyoung, and San makes a strangled noise. His tearful eyes gleam with anticipation, excitement — and just a hint of those not-nerves again. “Hey,” you say gently and massage his shoulder in reassurance, drawing his attention back to you. “Wooyoung’s gonna lose his mind, seeing you like this. We’re gonna take such good care of you, of our Sannie.”

San nods, managing a few steadying breaths. “Yeah,” he says softly, his smile almost shy. “All yours.”

It’s then, as warmth glows inside your chest at San’s renewed submission, that Wooyoung opens the bedroom door, looking around in search of your ‘secret’. “Okay, so what’s all the fuss abou—” he starts, but then he lays eyes on San, silenced at once.

All words are stolen from Wooyoung’s tongue, unable to do anything but stare at San’s tied up figure. His mouth has gone slack, eyes unblinking as they take in every inch of rope laid across San’s flushed, sweaty skin, emphasising the wideness of his chest and shoulders, and how it tapers down to his narrow waist — down to where you’re settled in San’s lap, keeping his dick warm.

“See,” you grin at San, lightly rocking your hips into him, “told you he’d like it.”

Even the slight motion is enough to make San whimper and arch, biting at his swollen lips. The stretch around his thick cock is so easy and satisfying now, buried snugly inside your cunt like he was made for you, just to stuff you full. The fevered flush on San’s cheeks deepens as he stares right back at Wooyoung, helplessly waiting for his next move.

“I… I knew you guys talked about practising, I didn’t think… Fuck.”

Wooyoung curses lowly, hands shaky as he shrugs off his jacket and lets it drop onto the floor, leaving him in just a loose-fitting tanktop and trousers. He drinks in the sight of you and San as he shifts onto the bed, darkened eyes briefly lingering on the bite-marks San left on your breasts before Wooyoung’s attention flickers back to San himself.

He brushes his hand over the length of San’s arm, his fingertips catching against the ladder-tie fixed around tensed muscles. “Never seen you like this before,” Wooyoung murmurs in quiet wonderment, wetting his lips. “How is it, Sannie? Is she treating you real nice? Are you having fun?”

“She’s mean,” San pouts, but there is a fond gleam hidden in his eyes as he glances at you. “Wouldn’t let me cum until you got here.”

Wooyoung groans deeply at that, clenching his hand around San’s forearm as though to steady himself. He catches you off guard when he suddenly turns his head to capture you in a hard kiss.

You moan in surprise at Wooyoung’s roughness, his self-control already tattered and hanging on by a single frayed thread. It makes your hips roll against San on pure instinct, drawing a broken whine as he clumsily humps upward to meet your slow grind.

“Fuck, that is real nice of you,” Wooyoung grunts against your lips. “Waiting just for me? Don’t know I could’ve been that patient.”

“You definitely couldn’t have,” you giggle, and reluctantly push him away. “But you don’t have to be patient, not today. Go on, give Sannie a kiss too. Enjoy.”

“Oh I will,” Wooyoung says, his voice raspy with excitement.

San makes a noise, muscles tensing as he yanks uselessly at his bound wrists. He looks nothing short of depraved, hair matted with sweat and eyes glassy, chest heaving with laboured breaths. Delectable, served up to Wooyoung on a platter — and Wooyoung is starved.

Obediently he follows your instruction, descending on San’s mouth in a frenzy.

You sigh in satisfaction as San twitches inside your stuffed cunt, your hand returning to your clit. Even just a light graze of your fingers burns through your core while you revel in the sight in front of you, of San keening pitifully as Wooyoung ravishes him.

Both of them are just as needy and desperate as the other; Wooyoung lost in his aggressive greed, San whimpering as he surrenders himself to it. Your breath hitches at the liberal peeks of tongue as their jaws shift, a sloppy tangle that has San panting, drool spilling over onto his chin. Wooyoung laps it all up before sucking San’s tongue into his mouth, his hands starting to wander.

Wooyoung’s fixation on San’s chest is instantly obvious — and all too understandable. He appreciatively tracks his fingers over the lines of rope, then kneads at the firm pecs trapped between them. His trimmed nails dig into San’s skin ever so slightly, only spurred on when San’s gasps into his mouth, writhing against the dual sensations of his throbbing cock engulfed by your wet heat and Wooyoung’s unbridled attentions.

“What do you think, Wooyoungie? Beautiful like this, isn’t he?” you ask, voice a little shaky, but still allowing yourself a moment of pride in your work.

Wooyoung breaks away from San’s lips, a thin thread of spittle briefly connecting them before it snaps.

“Beautiful doesn’t begin to cover it,” he grunts hoarsely. He bends down to suck at San’s tits with the same frenetic fervour he used on San’s mouth; and now San’s unmuffled cries spill freely, every pitched moan searing through your abdomen. San looks on the brink — and honestly, you’re not sure how much longer you can hold off yourself either.

“Fuck, Sannie, I don’t— Fuck—” Wooyoung babbles between sucking marks on San’s chest, just as overwhelmed by the unexpected reversal. “Is— is this okay? W-what can I—?”

You run a soothing hand through Wooyoung’s hair to ground him, massaging the scruff of his neck. “It’s okay, Wooyoungie, just talk to me. What do you want?”

Wooyoung sighs and relaxes at you kneading his tense muscles, taking a few steadying breaths. He then plucks at the rope laid over San’s sternum with a longing glance, playing with how the cord fills the divot between San’s pecs.

“Looks so good like this. K-kinda wish it was me here…” he rasps, stroking his fingers almost in a thrusting motion along the length of rope, “…me fucking these pretty tits.”

You never even get the chance to check in with San, or to consider the logistics of removing this part of the harness without needing to dismantle the entire thing. No, San is way ahead of you on both counts.

“Cut it. Cut away the rope,” he blurts out immediately, jutting his chin at the safety shears lying on the nightstand.

Wooyoung giggles at San’s urgency, reaching for the scissors. “So generous. I’ll buy you some new rope then,” he coos, wiggling two fingers under the cord to lift it up. “Fuck, but aren’t you eager to get used today, all of a sudden. What brought this on, hm?”

The concern behind Wooyoung’s question is subtle, hidden under a thick fog of arousal, but neither you nor San miss it. San lets out a breathy, self-conscious laugh at Wooyoung’s valid assumption that San might be less than alright if he is willing to submit.

“Nothing,” he says, shuddering as the blunt side of the shears brushes over his skin. “Nothing happened. I… I just wanted this.”

His chest puffs up a little, like he’s proud of himself for the admission. (You definitely are.)

“We talked,” you add, toying with the wide strap of Wooyoung’s tanktop, half-distracted by a glimpse of his collarbone, “and San decided he wanted to try something new.”

The tension on the harness loosens as Wooyoung frees up the space for him to use, causing a slight slack to the ladder pattern on San’s arms; but they stay in place. “Hm, so I have you to thank for this little surprise? You talked Sannie into this?”

“Don’t give me too much credit,” you grin, patting San’s side. “Didn’t take much convincing.”

“N-no, you can take a little credit,” San mumbles, almost a little drunkenly as he strains to stay still, slowly looking back-and-forth between you and Wooyoung.

Something passes over Wooyoung’s face as the sharp heat in his gaze momentarily softens. He turns to you and brushes his knuckles over your cheek, then presses a deceptively chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth. “Thank you,” he says quietly, before a teasing glint returns to his eyes. “I’ll make good use of it.”

“You better, yeah,” you tease, ignoring how Wooyoung’s sudden moment of softness threatens to throw you off balance. “Sannie was real excited for you to join us.”

Wooyoung hums in acknowledgement, discarding the remainder of his clothes. As he does so, he intently eyes the rise and fall of San’s chest at first, but then his eyes wander back between your thighs, where San’s dick disappears inside your sopping cunt.

“Can I?” Wooyoung asks, but doesn’t wait for answer before he runs two fingers through your drenched folds, holding the digits in a v-shape to press around the base of San’s cock. He grins at the way you and San both jerk at his touch, drinking in every moan as he leisurely swipes at your slick.

“F-fuck, Wooyoungie—” you whine, your hand clamping around his shoulder.

His eyes widen when he realises just how close you are, lips spreading into a filthy grin. “Yeah? Gonna give me a little more? Give me enough to lube up Sannie’s fat tits?” he rasps, stroking his fingers with more purpose. “C’mon baby, get it real nice and sloppy for me.”

You hiss another curse, your hips picking up speed when Wooyoung’s thumb finds your clit, right as he lazily mouths at your neck. You’re losing yourself in a clouded frenzy, wantonly gyrating against Wooyoung’s fingers and San’s cock; no longer satisfied with San just filling up your cunt, but finally using him to fuck yourself in earnest.

You’ve held back for so long, but now pure desperation hits you all at once. You have to cum, to find a release to the pressure that’s been building all night from the very moment you and San started your innocuous ‘practice’ session, like neither of you had been fantasising about this very scenario. Your breathless moans mingle with San’s choked gasp as your reckless chase for relief inadvertently sends sends him down a delirious spiral.

San’s head falls back against the pillow as he cries out, struggling against the ropes and bucking clumsily up into your cunt, sliding against Wooyoung’s fingers. Tears mingle with sweat on San’s cheeks, his whines catching in his throat when you clench around him tighter than ever before.

You can’t help it, not when Wooyoung bites and sucks at your neck, every nerve ending in your body going haywire as his thumb never lets up on your clit no matter how you twist and squirm.

“P-please,” San gasps, trembling helplessly. “Please, I- I—”

“What is it, Sannie? Too much? Not enough?” Wooyoung grins when San whimpers at the latter question, bucking his hips again. “So greedy. How about you, baby?” he asks you, licking his lips. “Want more too?”

You groan when Wooyoung stops moving his fingers, instinctively burrowing a hand in his hair, tugging impatiently at the long dark strands. “Fuck, don’t stop now, close, so close, Woo,” you babble mindlessly. “Yes yes want more, fuck—!”

Your throat closes up with a high-pitched keen when Wooyoung does exactly what you asked for; giving you more.

Just like that, his index finger slides into your cunt, snugly pressed between your walls and San’s cock. You mewl at the added stretch, a not completely unfamiliar burn but still overwhelming as you rush towards the precipice at break-neck speed. Your vision whites out as you convulse, struggling to stay upright as electrified pleasure surges through you in waves. It’s not until the first wave passes that you realise Wooyoung has worked a second finger in there, snapping his wrist and dragging San right down with you.

“Feels good, Sannie?” Wooyoung asks, grinning as your slick gushes over his fingers. “Is that what you wanted? Me next to you in that tight pussy, fucking our good girl together?”

San sobs brokenly, beautifully, powerless as he becomes undone underneath you, painting your fluttering walls with thick, heavy spurts of hot seed. His bottom lip is raw from his teeth, but still he bites down another whimper when your cunt clamps so tightly from an intense aftershock that you can’t help but push him out no matter how you try to keep him inside.

Wooyoung groans in delight at the view of San’s cum leaking out of your weeping hole, right on his fingers. He gathers as much as he can while you slump off on the side, trying and failing to catch your breath.

“Yeah, I think this will do just fine,” he chuckles darkly, and smears his slicked-up fingers between San’s pecs. He even works up some saliva to crudely spit onto San’s glistening skin, all shiny and slippery.

Antsy from waiting, Wooyoung straddles San and roughly grabs two handfuls of his tits to press together, creating a nice crevice for Wooyoung to fuck into. You kneel next to San, giving yourself a perfect view of what’s about to happen. One of your hands trails back between your legs, while the other rests on San’s thigh to ground him, your nails gently grazing over the sensitive muscle.

San whines, arching his back to meet Wooyoung’s flushed cock, its darkened tip leaking precum already. It only adds to the easy slide; an obscene mixture of fluids pooling in the shallow valley between San’s firm, pillowy pecs, causing a wet smacking sound with every snap of Wooyoung’s hips.

“Oh fuck, that feels good,” Wooyoung groans, his eyes fluttering shut. He sinks into the rhythm, soaking up the lewd squelches and San’s soft moans.

Your fingers slowly circle around your swollen, tender clit while you watch in a daze how Wooyoung’s dick slides between San’s cleavage with fluid strokes. Wooyoung draws deep, raspy breaths as he tries to stop himself from unravelling too fast, desperate to savour this moment. San’s chest heaves against the weight of Wooyoung’s cock, sweat dripping down his forehead and tongue lolling out of his mouth.

San whimpers when you reach behind Wooyoung to wrap a hand around his softening cock. The touch is gentle at first, almost absentminded while you watch them intently, but your hand gradually picks up speed as San’s moans get louder, needier. Pleasure buzzes through your worn-out body while San’s dick plumps back up in your palm.

San is totally gone at this point, using his last shreds of cognition to crane his neck, trying to catch his tongue against the tip of Wooyoung’s cock with every thrust. Wooyoung lets out a strained giggle of delight at San’s mindless instinct to please, and he pushes forward with deeper strokes to give San a taste of salty precum, mingled with the other bodily fluids gathered on San’s chest.

Wooyoung readjusts his grip so he can thumb at San’s nipples, grinning fiendishly when San whines loudly, fresh tears welling up in his eyes. “So you enjoy this sort of thing, huh?” Wooyoung teases, grunting between thrusts as his pace picks up. The air is filled with the heady, lewd squelch of his cock pushing air between San’s cleavage. “Didn’t expect to ever see you tied up like this. Do you like it, Sannie? Us having our way with you, and nothing you can do about it. Just have to lie there and take it.”

“Y-yeah,” San hiccups, struggling for words while your fist twists around his cockhead with every pass of your hand over his length. “F-fuck, I do, I like it Youngie…”

San’s meek submission flares through your aching cunt — and for Wooyoung, it proves too much to handle. His voice cracks as he doubles over with high-pitched gasps, hips stuttering as he spills on San’s chest, some splatters reaching up to his neck and face.

Wooyoung barely gives himself a chance to catch his breath before he’s bent over San, his tongue laving over the sticky mess on San’s defiled chest.

San lets out a weak moan at Wooyoung’s greedy, suckling mouth, his own tongue darting out to catch a drop of cum on the corner of his lips. It’s decadent, filthy, and you’re drawn closer into their orbit of debauchery with every wet smack of Wooyoung’s mouth, every moan wrested from San’s lips.

Finally you can’t stand it anymore, abandoning your clit to lay on your side. Half-draped over San, you suck at the splatters of cum covering his freckled neck, pumping his cock quicker. The motion catches Wooyoung’s attention and he glances up at your hand around San’s dick, his dark eyes clouded over, mouth and chin shiny with fluids.

“F-fuck, please I can’t—” San whines, trembling uncontrollably. “Baby, I-I’m gonna—”

“Give it to me,” Wooyoung cuts through San’s babbling, his voice hoarse. He rests his cheek on San’s saliva-glistening chest, tongue resting on his bottom lip in invitation.

San’s moans go up in pitch, fighting for breath as you twist and squeeze at his cock with confident familiarity, knowing exactly what he needs to fall apart. He does just so, whining, spilling his load messily over Wooyoung’s face; not as much as the first time, but enough to paint Wooyoung’s tongue white, even with the stray splatters that get on his face and in his hair.

Wooyoung closes his lips with a mischievous grin, but he does not swallow. Instead he turns to you with a dark look, half-crawling over San to grab at the soft meat of your thigh.

Impatiently he pushes you onto your back and spreads your legs, then latches onto you. You cry out, yanking at Wooyoung’s hair as he crudely tongue-fucks your cunt, pushing San’s cum inside you. His fingers dig into your hips, encouraging you to grind freely against his face.

Already close from earlier, it does not take much for the orgasm lurking in the shadows to coil around you with hot tendrils, tightly until finally the pressure snaps. You spasm and mewl, desperately grabbing onto San’s arm as you clamp around Wooyoung’s tongue with a throttled moan.

Wooyoung makes a pleased noise, nudging his nose against your clit while you ride it out; chasing every spark jolting through your core. Weakly you run a hand through Wooyoung’s hair, holding him close as he gently sucks at your folds, drawing out the aftermath until finally you slump down.

As your hold on him loosens, Wooyoung presses a final, tender kiss on your soft thigh. Slowly he withdraws, then sits up and to face San, who lays on the bed worn-out and wrecked in all the best ways.

“That was… different,” Wooyoung says with a faint grin, cupping San’s puffy cheeks to brush away a few lingering tears with his thumbs. “You okay, Sannie? Fuck, you did amazing.”

San answers with a soft hum, tiredly grinning back at Wooyoung. “Different, yeah. Good different. I’m good,” he sighs, glancing at you with a tender gleam in his eyes.

You fondly run a hand through his hair. “I’m glad,” you say in a quiet hush, feeling an odd relief at San’s words. Like a preemptive strike at any uncertainties that could have nagged at you later.

Carefully, you undo the knot around one of his wrists and Wooyoung takes your cue, reaching for San’s other arm. Together you release him from the bindings and the remainder of the cut harness. San is content to just let it happen, to let your care wash over him as you check him for abrasions and massage any stiffness out of his arms.

“How about you?” Wooyoung asks you, squeezing at your waist while San munches on an energy bar. “You okay?”

His concern seeps warmly through the exhaustion that’s settling in your bones. “Hm. Tired,” you mumble, though you manage a smile. It’s not bad, just more than you expected.

San immediately stretches his arms out to you. “Cuddle,” he pouts bossily; a mutually beneficial demand.

You give into his demand without second thought, happy to snuggle up against his chest (which is no longer stained with bodily fluids after Wooyoung cleaned him with some wet-wipes).

“Better?” San asks, rubbing his nose into your hair.

You giggle at the way San can’t help but take charge again, even if it’s just during the aftercare. “Yeah,” you sigh contently, and give Wooyoung a thankful look when he drapes a blanket over you before joining the cuddle himself.

You drift into a cosy bubble of entangled bodies and lazy chatter, a fuzzy warmth settling in, like you could doze off into sleep any moment. You're tempted to let it take you, to at least get a little nap in before you return to the comfort of your own bed — and really, you can find no reason not to.

Wrapped up in the safety of San and Wooyoung, you let your eyes flutter shut for a while, accompanied by their hushed voices and laughs.

Their voices are still there when you wake again later, along with two hands softly grazing over your arm and waist. You join their talk for a while, sleep-drunk from the nap, but then decide to go sleep for real before your brain wakes up too much. San gives you another pout as you untangle from his hold, while Wooyoung jokingly suggests they come with you, but both are placated when you promise to join them for breakfast tomorrow.

You stick by your promise, padding over to San and Wooyoung’s the next morning in slippers and a comfy bathrobe. It’s just one door away but you still can’t help thinking back on yesterday’s conversation; no longer having to shuffle through the apartment building’s hallway would definitely be an added benefit to a shared home.

Wooyoung is meandering in the kitchen by himself when you come in, no San in sight. You rub your eyes groggily as you look around for him, while joining Wooyoung by the stove. You give him a half back-hug, peeking over his shoulder to identify the origin of tasty smells drifting through their apartment. (Kimchi pancakes and egg dumplings, as it turns out.)

“Hmm, has San left already?” you mumble against Wooyoung’s shoulder. You’ had hoped to see San before work, just to ease that tiny twinge of protectiveness in your chest, to confirm he still felt good after yesterday. “Did he have a good sleep?”

Wooyoung opens his mouth — but before he can get a sound out, you hear the muted sound of the shower turning on from the bathroom.

“He’s here,” Wooyoung says with a sleepy grin, flipping over the pancake effortlessly. He’s wearing an apron, his hair is messily tied up into a half-bun, face slightly puffy from sleep. It’s utterly endearing. He looks away from the pan to glance at you, chuckling when he realises what your question was really about. “San’s doing great,” he assures you. “Way too chipper for this early in the morning, honestly.”

“Good, good,” you hum absentmindedly, nuzzling into Wooyoung’s shoulder. “And you? How are you doing? After last night?”

He blinks in surprise at the question. “Yeah? Yeah,” he says. “Of course.”

You raise an eyebrow, unsatisfied with his vague answer. “…Yeah? We didn’t ambush you too much with the whole thing?”

“Oh, no no!” He quickly shakes his head, but then slows down and sinks into a pensive expression. “Well… No, not an ambush.”

“…But?” you ask, starting to feel uneasy.

Wooyoung chuckles, pinching your cheek. “Hey — don’t stress out, okay? Last night was fucking amazing. I only—”

He sighs and awkwardly rubs the back of his head, before seeming to come to a decision. He slides the crispy pancake onto a preheated plate before turning down the stove, taking a break from cooking. He turns around to lean back against the counter, giving you and the conversation his full attention. You lean next to him, gently bumping your shoulders together.

“In the heat of the moment? No problems. But afterwards, I… I started feeling a little jealous,” Wooyoung says, his face scrunching up as he painstakingly works the admission past his lips. “That you got to tie San up. That he let you tie him up. Not that I ever bothered to ask but…” Wooyoung shrugs, like he’s trying to minimise the emotions behind his words. “…But I never got the feeling San would’ve tried that with just me.

“And I mean, there’s a reason I never asked; it’s not like this is some big secret fantasy I’ve been dying to play out so the whole thing is just stupid to get jealous over, but… yeah. That.”

His ramble trails off awkwardly, but you listened intently to every word, despite struggling a little to take it all in. You did just wake up after all, still shaking off sleep’s lingering hold on your brain. “Wooyoung… It’s not stupid. Not at all,” you say, your hand finding his.

“Sorry,” Wooyoung says with a wry smile, “didn’t mean to dump all that on you before I even got some food in your stomach.”

“It’s fine. I’m glad you told me,” you reassure him, squeezing his hand. “Did you talk to San about this?”

“Oh yeah, Sannie got the late night edition,” Wooyoung chuckles faintly. “But— but the thing is; it was also… nice? Does that even make sense? Like, I loved seeing you two like that together.”

Your brow softens, a pop of warmth bursting in your chest. “You did?”

Wooyoung nods, struggling to meet your eyes. “Yeah. Loved it. I—”

He hesitates again, and you have a sudden suspicion of what sentence he’s hiding behind his lips.

“I love how you took care of him, I love that he let you. Even if it felt complicated. You and San are different than me and San, but… that’s okay, you know? You and me are different too, and I love how we are together,” Wooyoung says, his waterfall of words inching closer and closer to the exact phrasing he is trying to reach.

You swallow thickly, realising what is about to come… and hold tighter onto Wooyoung’s hand, quietly encouraging him.

He glances up tentatively, finally meeting your eyes again — and relaxes into a smile at what he finds there. “Listen,” he continues, a little more confident, “it’s not like I’m interested in what adjective goes before the word. Romantic, platonic, whatever. Who cares. But— but I do love you.”

Wooyoung takes a deep breath, exhaling with audible relief.

“And I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he says, searching your face for any signs of it, “but I also don’t want to lie about this stuff. So… is this okay? Is it okay if I say that? You don’t have to say anything back,” Wooyoung rushes to add. “I know you might not feel the same way. But I’m good with that. I’m good with you liking me in your own way.”

There’s a stubborn lump in your throat that refuses to go away.

You did think those words would make you uncomfortable. You were convinced they would, given your past experiences. You just thought that for Wooyoung, you could sit with that discomfort and let it pass through you. At least this once. But there is no discomfort itching under your skin, no distress pounding in your chest.

Only warmth.

Down to the very core of your being, you know there are no ultimatums hidden behind Wooyoung’s confession. No threat to end things if your response does not meet his expectations, if what you can give him in return isn’t enough. Whatever you’ll say, he has already decided that it is. That you are enough. Just as you are.

“Well… I did tell you to stop assuming I’ll bolt at the tiniest hint of commitment,” you tease, though your voice is a little thick. (Somewhere in the background, you vaguely register that the shower in the bathroom has turned off.)

“You did, yeah,” Wooyoung giggles, lightly elbowing you in the side. His shoulders look much lighter now. “No take backsies.”

You shake your head. “Wasn’t planning on it. Yeah,” you hum. “Yeah, it’s okay if you say that. More than okay. I… I’m happy.”

Wooyoung’s eyes scrunch up as his smile widens. The force of it is breathtaking.

“Is— is this something recent? You haven’t been stressing out about this talk, have you?” you ask, fidgeting a little. You hate the idea that he might’ve been sitting with this for who knows how long.

Wooyoung scoffs a laugh. “What? No way. You know me, right? Bottling up feelings is not my style. I leave that up to you and Sannie.”

You snort at the lighthearted dig, whapping Wooyoung on the arm. “Hey, that’s slander! Blatant character assassination! Who is the one who brought up moving in together?”

“Okay fine, fine, I’ll let you have that one,” he sighs dramatically. “But you gotta admit I’m the load-bearing pillar in this trio. It’s a fate I’ve accepted long ago.”

His dramatics make you laugh, but honestly? There is truth in it. Wooyoung has always been the most pro-active between the three of you, the most forthright about his wants and needs. Hell, Wooyoung might’ve been jealous, but without him, you and San probably wouldn’t have gotten to a place for him to be jealous of.

You’ve always liked San, ever since he moved in next to you, but it was Wooyoung who forcibly dragged you two closer into each others’ orbit. With no Wooyoung, you’d have lived complacently as neighbours, your friendship superficial, until one of you moved out again, never to see each other again. Never sticking your head out to explore what else there could be between you.

The morning hush settles back into the kitchen as you lean against Wooyoung, loosely wrapping your arms around his. “Thank you,” you murmur, rubbing your cheek against his shoulder. “I’ll try to carry my weight more often.”

Wooyoung blinks, a little surprised at your sincere reaction to his joke, but then he softens into a smile and leans back into you. “You’re welcome,” he murmurs back. “But don’t go carrying too much, alright? Can’t have me becoming redundant.”

“Pff, never. Idiot.”

That’s how San walks in to find you and Wooyoung, just living in a moment of quiet. His hair is still damp from the shower, a towel around his shoulders to catch the last few drops clinging to wet tendrils.

San’s eyes lightens up when he sees you’re here, quickly walking over joining you. He briefly raises an eyebrow when he notes the one singular pancake that’s getting cold, but decides to ignore it, leaning against the kitchen counter next to Wooyoung instead. He drapes an arm over Wooyoung’s shoulder, his warm hand coming to rest high between your shoulder-blades.

“So,” San says, a cute little smile tugging on his lips as he looks at Wooyoung. “You talked to her? Said what you wanted to say?”

Wooyoung grins back at him. “Yeah. We talked.”

“Good,” San says softly, his fingers trailing up to knead the nape of your neck. “That’s really good.”

Wooyoung lets out a loud sigh, shaking his head. “You know what isn’t good?” he says, looking from you to San. “That we’re all standing around here getting hungry. C’mon, get off me, let me get to it. Someone has to keep you two fed.”

He abruptly shakes himself loose and turns back to his pancake better, causing you and San to make noises of surprise — but then you grin mischievously at the sight of him diligently making breakfast for three. “See? That’s why you’ll never be redundant. Indispensable, that’s what you are.”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “Helpless without me, that’s what you are,” he shoots back, but the corners of his mouth are fighting a losing battle against the wide, shy smile creeping up his lips.

You catch San’s eye while Wooyoung continues his cooking, suddenly feeling oddly shy. “You had a good sleep?”

“Yeah,” he says quietly, struck by the same shyness. “Really good.”

A faint heat creeps under your skin as you reminisce on last night’s events; the trust San showed in you, the sight of him tied up on the bed, helpless while you and Wooyoung ravished him, how noisy he’d gotten—

Oh. Noise.

A whole other sort of heat flushes through you when a different memory of yesterday floods through your system. “D-do you think we ought to send Mrs Yoon flowers or something?” you say, grimacing at San. “Fruit basket? Chocolates?”

San’s drowsy smile is knocked right off his face as he freezes, cheeks going crimson with embarrassment. “Oh god,” he groans, hiding his face behind his hand. “Y-yeah. Maybe we should.”

Wooyoung takes his attention off the pan, blinking at you and San in confusion. “Hm? Mrs Yoon? What about her?” he says, blissfully oblivious. “Is she sick? I can get her some flowers from work, sure. Do we need to write her a card too?”

#igby’s writing #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez fic #woosan smut #woosan x reader #san smut #san x reader #wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #ateez hard hours #kpop smut #ateez scenarios #san imagines #wooyoung imagines #san scenarios #wooyoung scenarios

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jodilin65 · 37 years ago

Text

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 31, 1987 Tonight’s New Year’s Eve. Another year has gone by.

I woke up early and straightened up a bit. I changed the pig’s cage. They’ll need more food and sawdust today. I think I’ll buy them cedarwood. It lasts longer and smells good. I’ll be gone 10 days so it has to last. Crystal will feed them and give them water while I’m gone.

Speaking of Crystal, she is one hell of a good roommate. I only wish she was a little neater.

Kevin is supposed to drive Crystal and I down to Salem to see Tammy, but Crystal never came home last night. She’s probably with her abusive boyfriend, Mike.

We have a lot of fun together, Crystal and me. Last night she said, “I feel like I’ve known you for years.” I feel that way too. I just hope to hell she shows up to go to Tammy’s. I have a feeling she’ll forget. Maybe I’ll just go with Kevin, although I really want Crystal to go, too.

I wonder if 1988 will be my lucky year. I know, however, that this is the year I am going to hear out of both ears.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 25, 1987 Crystal has finally moved in. She just finished unpacking. We met at Dunkin’ Donuts and got to discussing my wanting a roommate.

Now she’s singing. Personally, I think Crystal has just about the worse voice I’ve ever heard.

I spoke to Jenny today. It’s her 23rd birthday. She told me of all the gifts she got from her family and friends.

I tried to get a hold of Mary and there was no answer. She’s just as hard to get a hold of as Emily is.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 19, 1987 At about 3:00, I went and did my laundry at the X, then came home at 6:00 and called Dad. He took me out to dinner at 7:00, then when he brought me home he came up here for about half an hour or so. I played Love Me Tender on the keyboard for him and made him coffee.

He weighed himself on my scale and said that it was definitely accurate and that there was no way I could possibly weigh 121 pounds. Then when I stepped on it, it said I was 111.

The people here are so noisy. I think I hear a garbage disposal running now.

Took a bath tonight, never straightening my hair. It looks ridiculous. Very curly.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 16, 1987 I'm currently waiting to see the therapist. My dad picked me up earlier today to exchange some pants I received as a Hanukkah gift at the mall. I've noticed my weight has increased and I now weigh 121 pounds. Last night, I had a great time at Tammy's. She, Bill, and their daughters gifted me a sleep shirt for my upcoming Florida trip. Additionally, my parents gave me socks, underwear, a comfy sweatshirt dress, a purse, earrings, a watch, a bracelet, a miniskirt with a matching shirt, two pairs of pants, a coat, gloves, and a scarf.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 14, 1987 Looks like I'll be pulling another all-nighter. My body always seems to prefer sleeping during the day instead of at night. Fran and Kevin came over earlier, and we watched a movie that was just average. Nothing too exciting. Tomorrow, I have plans to meet Jenny at Springfield Municipal Hospital where she works at 3:30. She's helping me with my grocery shopping, and I'll be giving her around 30 paperback books that I no longer want.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 13, 1987 Last night I fell asleep at sometime around 11:00. I woke up at 5:00 this morning. No noise woke me up. I just for some reason automatically woke up. Who knows why, but on weekdays when I have errands to do it seems I sleep all day, but on the weekend what do I do when there’s nothing to wake up for? Get up at 5am.

Hank from downstairs was up here twice today visiting. Once I asked him to come and look at the black and white TV. He says the transistors are gone.

Then he called up to me while I was dusting the bedroom from his bedroom asking me for aspirin.

Tomorrow or Monday I must get my Hanukkah cards and get my Christmas cards ready to go out in the mail. I also must mail Jo’s b-day card in a few days, too.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 11, 1987 Last night I didn’t get to sleep until about 6am. Today I slept till 1pm, got up, put up with the nervous bastard for a while then went to therapy. Next week is my last week with Trisha.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 8, 1987 I am currently at Dunkin Donuts and have had two cups of coffee, but nothing to eat. I have successfully lost three pounds. However, I have not consumed any food today, and I plan to continue this trend for the next three to five days.

On Tuesday at 4 pm, my parents and I will be heading to Tammy's for a Hanukkah gathering. I hope the experience will be more enjoyable than Thanksgiving, as I sometimes find my family's behavior to be frustrating.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 7, 1987 I had quite a long day today. I have been up since 5:15 this morning as the people upstairs on the 3rd floor were doing the 50-yard dash. I woke up to their footsteps.

At about 8:45 I left for the bus to go to the social security office. I also applied for food stamps.

At the federal building, I saw 3 deaf women signing and went up to join them. I also met a woman from Trinidad who has a deaf daughter. She wants me to teach her sign language. I gave her my number and she says she’ll call me.

As of right now, I am at Jenny’s keeping her company while she cuts carpet.

Jenny gave me a little scatter rug. She has some other carpet for me but she has to find out how much it costs before she sells it to me. I’d love some carpet for my bedroom and the hallway. I hope I can afford it though as I only get $474.49 a month between my two checks (Social Security and SSI). It’s so hard to afford to buy anything for myself other than just pay my rent and the bills because I get so little.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 6, 1987 Jenny and Jim were over tonight for a little while. Jenny got me this candle and potpourri that smells really nice.

Earlier today I went to the mall to do some Chanukah shopping. I got Dad Wynonna and Naomi’s tape, mittens for Rebecca, a coloring book for Lisa, a cosmetic organizer for Jenny, and placemats for Tammy and Bill’s table, and last, a bracelet for Kevin. I still need to get something for me and Emily. In case I haven’t already said so, Tammy is my older sister, but no one in the family has been in touch with our older brother, Larry. Bill is Tammy’s husband whom I never really cared for. Lisa is her daughter which she had with some Mexican guy when she lived in Texas. She currently lives in Connecticut. Bill and Tammy had Becky together and both are lousy parents.

Later…

I’ll probably be up most of the night since I slept so late this morning, but I have to get up early tomorrow so I can go to STCC and the federal building. I also have to have some blood work done tomorrow. Right now I am making some fish cakes but after they’re done and I eat I’m going to go over that form for financial aid.

On January 2nd I’ll be flying down to Florida to visit my folks.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 4, 1987 It’s been a depressing birthday so far. I am now waiting for Mom and Dad to come pick me up for dinner. Jenny and Emily, an old friend, totally forgot it was my birthday today. Kevin told me over the phone he couldn’t afford to get me anything. I did, however, get a card from Tammy who I’m sure won’t even call me. I also got a card from Jo. Jo’s an old lady back at the old apartment complex I used to live at. Her husband’s crazy but that’s because he has Alzheimer’s disease.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 2, 1987 I am now at the doctor’s waiting to be seen. The nurse just weighed me at 118½ pounds.

Nellie paid me $20 today and was on her way over to visit when I was on my way out the door.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 1, 1987 I am now at Mom and Dad’s doing my laundry. As usual, Mom is in her bitchy mood.

Kevin is definitely going to get his ass kicked the next time I see him seeing that he threatened me this morning. He should definitely know better by now, but seeing that he doesn’t, maybe I’ll have to hurt him.

I hope to be going to STCC for part-time classes in the daytime starting in January. Also the interpreter training class at night. I’d still like to tutor sign and try doing calligraphy on the side to make extra money.

I hope I see Mary very soon. I want the clothes back she borrowed. If she doesn’t have them she’s dead, just like Nellie if I don’t get paid tomorrow.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 1987 Well, today I slept very late again as usual. I was going to do my laundry tonight at 6:00 but Jenny called me at 5:00 and came over at 5:30 to get me and brought me to her new house. I helped her clean her bedroom floor.

I just went across the street to get Jenny and me some coffee.

Jenny’s new house, although it is a rental, is quite nice. It’s got 6 rooms and her bedroom is very big. It has marble floors and a sliding glass door with a porch. Lots of closets everywhere.

Right now she’s painting. She painted the walls purple and the woodwork white. So far she’s pissed because Warren, the guy she’s renting it with, hasn’t done anything yet as far as cleaning. I said, “That’s a male for you.” Males are slobs and hate to clean. They wouldn’t clean unless their lives depended on it but probably not even then. Males suck!

Yesterday I went to see Tammy. She gave me a lot of food and some money. Tomorrow Nellie is going to pay me or she has a broken neck.

I am listening to Jenny’s music. That is our only difference. She hates my music and I think her heavy metal sucks. The only thing we agree on is The Cars.

Last Friday was a bad day in therapy as Trisha came out and told me she was leaving. I balled my eyes out crying. She looked sad, too. She’s got a new job in Connecticut closer to her house where she’ll be working with teenagers. I’ll really miss her and I’m going to hate to have to start my whole life story over again with a new therapist. Don’t forget I’ve been seeing Trisha for a year and a half.

Mom and Dad called yesterday while I was in the tub. They’re coming home Wednesday to return to work. I can’t wait. I missed them.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 19, 1987 I just finished my last cigarette. I want to quit. Maybe tomorrow morning I won’t wheeze so badly because I’ve only had one since about 8:15.

Tomorrow I must go to State St. for that volunteer interview for signing. That’s at 10:30.

Also tomorrow, Trisha rescheduled me for 1:00.

I hope I get some extra money soon so I can do Chanukah and Christmas shopping. I want to buy my own cards and do them in calligraphy.

I also want to buy a rod for the curtains I want to put up over the bars in the bathroom window.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 1987 I still have the flu and probably will for a few more days. Yesterday all I did was go apply for food stamps and then I felt sicker than hell. It seems I go crazy from sitting in here but then when I go out it creeps up on me.

I am still wide awake with side effects from my medication. I’m gonna tell the doctor that either she changes the medication or I don’t take it at all.

Later…

The bald eagle is here now and he helped me put up the hammock that Mary gave me.

I didn’t get to sleep till 5:00 this morning or possibly later. I got up at 9:00 for an hour, then fell back asleep at 10:00 and woke up at noon when Tammy called telling me about her nutty mother-in-law. This woman really sounds like a real psycho.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 12, 1987 I did not go to sleep till 4:30 this morning and one hour later I woke at 5:30. I woke up nauseous then another hour later I woke up at 6:30 and puked. I guess I got the flu. I am going from hot to cold constantly.

I am now at Dunkin Donuts debating on whether or not to do my laundry. I really feel sick but I need to get the hell out.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 1987 I am now waiting for Shannon to call me. I hope she has some good news for me. I guess we are going to work out, too.

I hope I’ll have good news myself for Mom and Dad the next time they call.

Later…

Shannon and her sister Doreen just left. We had a really nice visit till the fucking male bastard walked in and gave his usual story of Hartford. When I told them about Kevin’s nervous disorder they laughed royally.

The prick male downstairs was in a huge fight with Mattie. I felt like going down and giving him a piece of my mind.

I don’t know if Shannon’s gonna move in. I hope so, though. She’d be a great roommate.

Tomorrow I’ve got to go to court for the stupid little baby pigs and watch them fall flat on their asses. Males! 90% of my problems in life are males. I gotta go call Mary and remind her. She better go with me tomorrow.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 1987 I am at Friendly’s now. Kevin started off in his usual fucked up nervous mood, shaking and getting all argumentative. He totally trembles with nerves every other time I see him! I’ve never seen anything like it. Does this have to do with the concussion he was hospitalized with? You can really see the nervousness in his hands with the way his fingers curl and uncurl.

Soon, I’m going to Food Mart and maybe Brightwood in Longmeadow. I need to get guinea pig food, cedar chips and a few groceries.

Later…

Well, the fucking male just ran out of gas again for the 4th time. God, I’m sick of his shit! I wish they’d commit him to a fucking loony bin. He’s a sicko! I hope the little nervous bastard eats shit and dies. People wonder why I’m gay? Then again, even if all guys were sweethearts, I’m attracted to women. Period.

I called Tammy, my sister who lives in CT, thinking tomorrow was court when it’s really Thursday. I wonder if she’ll drive up and go with me? She did ask for my lawyer’s name and number, though. I guess she feels better being there and that I’ll say the wrong thing if she’s not. If she doesn’t go I’ll have Mary go, but not the little nervous bastard.

I’m still here in Friendly’s drinking coffee till the little nervous bastard gets back from his favorite pastime - running to get gas. The fucking prick! Maybe he’ll fall and break a leg. Someday someone’s gonna do it for him if it isn’t me. I’m so pissed off now. That little bastard’s lucky I didn’t fuck him up.

I need to change the pig’s cage quite badly and vacuum.

Later…

Shannon came over and I think maybe she’ll be my lucky break. I hope so. I sang for her and played my instruments and she said, “What are you doing sitting around here?”

She says she knows some people and that she’s going to talk to some people about my singing. She says she knows some musicians and knows a girl who was talking about being an agent. She also says I may be her lucky break with the signing. She knows a few girls who need to be tutored. She and her sister are going to post that I’d like to teach signing on the bulletins at STCC.

We are going to be going to work out together from now on. She goes in this direction. That would be great. That way I don’t have to go with the little nervous bastard and take the chance of either getting killed by his erratic driving or him running out of gas. She is to be calling me at around 2:00 or 2:30 tomorrow afternoon. I hope she has some good news. Around 4pm we’ll be going to work out.

Too bad she can’t move in here. She’d be the perfect roommate, but I guess she wants her own apartment.

I called the book club and they said I have some books coming from the Mystery Guild. The other two clubs show nothing.

Later…

Just got through speaking with Mary, Doug and Kevin. Doug said he’d never want to be in the same room with me for physical fear of me cutting his cock off, haha. Good for him.

Can’t wait till I hear from Shannon and to get my books.

Tomorrow morning I’d like to go to the bank and then go to welfare and see if I qualify for food stamps. They’d be nice to have.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 9, 1987 I am kind of in a bummed-out mood now. I feel a little tired and dizzy. I guess maybe it’s time to get my eyes checked. I know I definitely don’t want to wear glasses.

I think right now I’m going to take a bath and maybe listen to some music. I’m going to also watch the conclusion of that movie I said I saw last night.

Now for my good news. That Shannon C that I met at the gym called to tell me she knew 3 girls from STCC who are currently taking sign language classes and are very confused and need to be tutored. So I think I’ll be tutoring them here at home. Great! Extra money. I miss using my signing, too.

Shannon also said she wants to move out into her own apartment so I gave her Larry’s number. I wonder who will get my apartment and Nancy’s?

Tomorrow night at about 6:00 Shannon will be dropping by for a visit.

Tomorrow I hope Kevin gets his goddamn car fixed. I need to go grocery shopping and buy guinea pig food, and I’d love to skip the buses.

Later…

I just finished watching the movie. That was a hell of a good movie.

Jenny called today. She told me about her job as a nurse’s aide.

The day after tomorrow I must appear in court. I’ve been charged with making prank phone calls. I sure hope they dismiss it, but fat chance! Maybe I just won’t go.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 8, 1987 Today I woke up kind of bored so I called Mary and spent the day at her house. Her brother’s a real bastard, and the nervous bastard (Kevin) ran out of gas today at Mary’s. I’m not staying at Mary’s for the night because John and her bastard brother Doug are going to be there tonight. I’ll just go home and clean the apartment. And God knows it sure does need it, too. I’d like to catch up on my reading tonight and maybe study some Spanish. I’ve missed all my weekend shows, though.

Later…

I am home now and have cleaned up. It didn’t take as long as I thought it would. I remember how picky and perfectly neat I used to be and I wish I could be that way again.

Right now I am watching a movie about these millionaires who committed murder. I think it’s over in a few minutes. After the movie, I must take a bath, wash my hair, shave and brush my teeth. I may read later, too.

I wish to hell I didn’t have this driving phobia I’ve got and that I had my own car or could just move to Florida because I really can’t stand Kevin. It’s a bitch when the one you need around to use for transportation is a total asshole. No luck, I know, as far as him moving. Well, maybe his car will break down or get pulled from him with that rejection sticker he’s had since April and I won’t give in to my temptation to call for a ride.

I was expecting Ma to call tonight but I guess not. She did say this weekend, though. Maybe she’s busy.

Later…

Mary’s bastard brother tried to hit on me on the phone tonight. He said, “I have a heart in me and I know you have a heart too, and I know I can change your mind about men and make you happy.”

No male is gonna “change my mind.” I want a woman. It’s what I’m attracted to.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 3, 1987 Yesterday when I was out, Mom called and Kevin said a Karen W was to call me after noon which is anytime now to tell me what they have to offer. For some strange reason, I doubt this will be heaven. I think she’s trying to get me in some supervised halfway house or something. The last thing in the world I’m going to do is be a kid again on a point system with rules and restrictions where there’s no way out. I sure hope there are no nuts in this place. Or males. If they say you can’t smoke in certain areas or eat at certain times or want to know wherever you go, then I’ll know it’s Valleyhead all over again, a private “school” I attended from ages 16-18 that was total hell. I will not give up any of my freedom. If my parents have me walk into a trap again then I’ll know I’m still not the perfect daughter they’re looking for yet. Or maybe I’ll just give in and let myself be fucked over yet again.

Yesterday I told Kevin to stay in my apartment while I took the car out by myself. I did fine except for the fact that I left the lights on and needed jumper cables. So a guy in the parking lot gave me a jump and sent me on my merry way.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 1, 1987 I haven’t written since Wednesday night when I slept over at Mary’s place. I am upset with her for not returning the $5 I lent her for dinner as she promised and have been broke all weekend. My checks were supposed to come yesterday, and they didn’t as usual, so I am going to talk to them tomorrow. They think they’re missing a digit in my account number, so the computer is rejecting it and the money’s delayed a day.

I still have to go to court. I didn’t because I have been too sick. I have a bad cold and now I know why last Thursday they said I had a high white blood cell count. I literally forced myself to work out today at about 4 PM and now I am sicker than a dog, but I needed to get the hell away. When I sit at home all day, I get very depressed. I will work out tomorrow, too.

Thursday, I was very depressed and was looking so forward to therapy, but Trisha was out sick. Debbie at the desk said she tried to call me, but I wasn’t home.

I invited Fran P, my old neighbor who used to live next to Kevin, over earlier but he was expecting company, so he’ll come over next weekend. I may invite Kevin over later but I’m a little sick of his company and I really can’t wait till I have my own car (if I can get over my driving phobia). No, I’m not intimate with either Kevin or Fran.

Later…

I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep well tonight since I slept late this morning. Oh well. I’ll probably read all night or write.

Tomorrow I’m going to go pay my rent and I want to call the bank and also go down there and see if they can figure out my checkbook. I fucked it up again with my shitty math.

I also have to pay Jean for those two singing lessons I took and I’m going to once again force myself to go work out. I need to get out and get the exercise, but I’ll probably feel worse after with this damn cold.

Tomorrow night mom’s going to be calling me to tell me about someplace in Florida she thinks I’d like living at. I hope it’s just what I need and want. She also says she thinks she can fly me down sooner than January.

I wonder how my birthday will go this year. It seems Dec. 3rd the day before my birthday always brings me good luck. In ‘85 I moved out on my own. In ‘86 I got my license. What will happen this year?

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 28, 1987 I got up today at 8 AM, made coffee, and listened to music. At 9 AM I was fully dressed nicely and then Kevin and I went to Friendly’s for breakfast. We are now going to the Fairfield Mall in Chicopee so he can do some inventory, part of his job.

I just got back from buying new kitchen curtains from Bradlee’s. Surprisingly enough I ran into Mattie I, who lives next door to me, working as a cashier. She helped me as far as measurements. Thank God for her as I would’ve gotten the wrong size. Kevin is still in there counting ties and belts.

When I get home I’m going to hang up my new curtains, then eat, listen to music and lay down till my 3:30 appointment. I have asked Kevin if he will go with me. He said yes, but Dr. H, my shrink, may say no. I doubt she’ll say no, though.

I am at Mary C’s for the night. She’s another old neighbor/friend. We are watching Halloween.

I see Trisha, my therapist, at 2pm tomorrow, then after that, I have to go to the post office for a certified letter and stamps. After that, I need to go to court to drop charges since Nellie paid me for the radio/cassette player her boyfriend stole from my kitchen. She also gave me $40 earlier this evening.

I hope that the medication for my side effects helps and that I stay feeling good that my bad times get less and less and that I’ll always be able to cope.

I also hope tomorrow I start receiving some of the books I ordered. According to Nellie, she hasn’t received hers yet and I would think she’d receive hers before I got mine, as she is a new member.

I think I’m gonna hit the sack soon. The only bad thing about staying here at Mary’s is that it’s freezing in here and this place is so filthy and smelly it drives me nuts.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 27, 1987 Springfield, MA My Apartment on Oswego Street…

NOTE: I wrote journals by hand from 10/27/1987 till 6/1/98 when I went all-digital. I have typed up all the handwritten journals, which I no longer have today.

Jenny C, whom I’ve known since 4th grade, came over at about 9:30. I’m 21, she’s 22. I was very tired when I woke up and I still am. The medication I got last night really wipes me out. It’s funny how some medications just don’t agree with me. She made us coffee and some toast. Then after that, she took a shower and I listened to music and then laid down for a while. When I got up I went to the mall in Enfield with Jenny and bought this journal. She wants me to go work out but I am just too tired. So, here I am in this mall just wishing I had money to shop with. I could really go for some new clothes.

When I came home I fell asleep till the mailman woke me up with a certified letter from the bank. Nellie R, who lives two doors away, owes me a total of $175 for having me cash those checks she stole that I didn’t know were stolen. She’ll be paying me $40 every 15 days. It won’t be for almost 3 months till I’m reimbursed.

I am going to tell the doctor that I want off this medication and I’m sure she’ll suggest something else even though I seem to have side effects from everything I take.

I am now at Friendly’s with Kevin T, an old neighbor/friend.

Instead of lying down I took a bath, washed my hair and put it in a ponytail with my new pink ribbon. I am wearing my sweatshirt dress which I just found the other day hiding way in the back of my closet.

Kevin and I are now talking about his kids and just bullshitting about odds and ends. He’s divorced, 45 years old, and his ex is down in CT. He hasn’t seen her or his two boys in quite a while.

I am home now and Kevin and I are watching TV as I sip coffee and write. Before, I was in the process of doing a major clean-up. I finished vacuuming and after my coffee, I must finish cleaning the bathroom and then dust and mop. Housecleaning is very tedious and boring but if I put it off another day it’ll never get done.

Kevin is going to go with me tomorrow to the doctor's. I hope all goes well.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 26, 1987 Read First! I'm moving this to the front of my journal even though it's actually 2023 that I write this.

Welcome to my decades of journaling! While I've always emphasized that I primarily write for my own personal expression, I do hope that my words may offer help or inspiration to anyone who finds them valuable. Throughout the years, my journaling has chronicled a diverse range of experiences, including moments of joy, sorrow, adventure, and fear.

However, it's important to acknowledge that some of my writings are controversial and, yes, have been perceived as hateful and racist by some. I want to be upfront about this so there are no surprises. If such content is not in alignment with your preferences, I encourage you to feel free to leave. Nobody is obligated to read my writings, and if certain aspects trouble you, please don’t torture yourself by reading.

Many years ago, I was victimized by individuals of different racial backgrounds who used their connections to law enforcement to target me in the name of revenge. This unfortunate experience, understandably, led me to express sentiments that some might consider racist. Much like how a woman who has suffered abuse may develop distrust or prejudice against men, my writings during that time were driven more by their behavior than by race or color. At times, I may have used racially charged language as a form of venting and provocation, knowing that it would upset them. But really, it was never about race or color. It was about them. But like any human being, I occasionally said and wrote things in the heat of the moment that some may find offensive. I firmly believe that while we can't make people like or love us, we certainly can make people harbor animosity if we mistreat them.

I also acknowledge that the younger, more naive me may stated things as facts that I honestly believed at the time were facts, yet may not have been. Not just regarding the welfare bums but things in general.

During this period, I shared excerpts from my journal with the individuals involved, which they later termed as stalking, despite the fact that I was only documenting information as advised by the police for potential legal recourse in the future. Nonetheless, I sent them copies as a way of venting when we moved (they lived next to us). Well, instead of doing the grown-up thing by not reading what they didn't like, they used it against me and I was manipulated into pleading guilty for something I didn't know I was pleading guilty for. I thought I was being charged with sending the journals but instead, it was supposedly a threatening letter. I did send a less-than-kind letter to these sickos but that was many years prior which led me to believe that someone else they pissed off sent the letter and they assumed it was me. Either that or their cop friend wrote it up and thrust it into my hands during interrogation to get my fingerprints on it when showing me “evidence” that was clearly falsified.

The point is that I lost half a year of freedom and thousands of dollars due to these people's vindictiveness when all I did was express myself. It may not have been in the way they agreed with and wanted to hear but they harassed me for years and I reacted. It was that simple. I make no apologies for anything I ever said to these people be it with my voice or in print.

And yes, I sometimes, in a fit of anger, said something to the effect of wanting to strangle, throttle, beat, kick, slap, or punch various people here and there. Like one sometimes mutters these things under their breath when pissed at someone, I vented in print. However, none of these threats, if you could even call them threats, are meant to be taken literally. It's easy to say we'll do this, this, and that to someone who's crossed us but unless someone's literally trying to harm me, my husband, pets, or property, I'm as harmless as a butterfly. This is a journal. Not a manifesto.

Whether it's common or not, I've had moments in life where I contemplated suicide or at least had thoughts of it, and that too has been expressed in these journals at times and is also not meant to be taken seriously in any way.

My journal is free to anyone who wants to read it but is not open to debate. In other words, I'm not going to argue about some stupid thing I may have written 20 years ago or something I shouldn't have said or done 30 years ago. We all make mistakes, and it's part of my life story.

I also wish to address the unkind things I said about my husband, Tom, in the 90s when we were contemplating having a child. In retrospect, we are glad that we never had children, as it would have placed a tremendous burden on both of us, involving substantial expenses and considerable work while limiting our freedom. My perspective at the time, based on my limited knowledge, was that Tom might have been intentionally avoiding climaxing during our intimate moments to prevent pregnancy. Subsequently, I came to understand that he might have been dealing with low testosterone, but he felt too embarrassed and shy to admit it or seek help.

In hindsight, I'm glad we didn't have children but wish I hadn’t gone through the depression and frustration I experienced during our attempts at starting a family. My earlier belief that medication was the answer has also changed, as I now realize the complexities and potential side effects of hormonal treatments.

Lastly, I want to clear up the thing about God and “Robin.” I was a very emotional person in my younger days and things were a much bigger deal to me than they ever would be today if I was in similar situations. I don't know if there is a God or not but as you'll read, I spent many years rambling about how God hated me and insisted he was controlling and cursing me and my life, and hey, maybe he or something else was at times. I don't know for sure but I do feel a little embarrassed when I read back on those times, LOL, even though we all do and say silly things at times. I just wanted to believe so badly that there really was a God that would listen to me and that cared and that would grant me any reasonable rational prayer I made. But most of my prayers have gone unanswered and I don't know if it’s by design or happenstance. I don't think any of us can really ever know.

Robin was an entity I believed - or at least wanted to believe - was supposedly like a guardian angel, on my side, there to help, to inspire and encourage me, blah blah blah. I don't think I can go so far as to say that Robin was a figment of my imagination and wishful thinking but I don't know that I really ever had this protective spirit hovering over me, especially since quite often things didn't go my way.

I never use real last names unless it's someone famous or infamous. However, I realize that some people may happen to actually have some of the names I've randomly drawn. If this bothers you in any way, don't hesitate to reach out to me (nicely) and let me know. Any threats or ultimatums will be completely ignored.

In summary, my journal spans a wide range of experiences, emotions, and beliefs, and I offer this context to better understand the evolution of my thoughts and feelings over the years as well as what life was like for future generations that may read my life story.

0 notes

darkmulti · 4 years ago

Note

hi, can you write yandere! bts reaction to you slapping them in an argument please?

⚠️: Yandere!BTS, slapping, implied smut, manipulation

-> sorry for any mistakes

»»———————————- ♔ -———————————««

Jin

Jin was once again, being narrow minded. “It was for work, Jin! I wasn’t working with him for fun, it’s our job. I can’t believe you punched him in the face. You embarrassed me in front of everyone!”

“Great! If you’re embarrassed, quit your job! So you never have to see them again!

“I’m not quitting! You can get that out of your head! I would leave you before quitting-” a hard slap cut you off. You instinctively covered your stinging cheek and took a step back. You were in a state of shock. Yes, you and Jin had petty arguments here and there but they never got physical. By the end of the day, you guys worked it out. However, after he laid his hand on you, you knew it was over. You looked up at him and slapped him right back. “Fuck you! We’re over.”

You turned around and ran upstairs to your shared bedroom. This house was under Jin’s name so it was you who has to go. You grabbed your suitcase and started packing all your clothes. Jin rushed into the shared room and pulled your suitcase away. He dumped all the clothes on the ground and threw the suitcase across the room.

“You’re not fucking leaving! Hang up all these clothes. Stop overreacting like a pathetic little bitch.”

You scoff and get off the floor. “I’m a ‘pathetic little bitch’?! Says my insecure husband.”

“You won’t be able to survive without me. No other man would be able to spoil you like I do. I’ve given you the high life, now obey me in return.”

“I’m not your slave, I don’t have to fucking listen to you.”

“Do you pay the bills in this house?! Do you buy the groceries?! Do you pay for insurance?! No? Then, shut up. You wouldn’t have anything if it weren’t for me. You’d probably be living on the streets if I didn’t take you in. I was the one who made sure you got that job because I knew it would make you happy. If it weren’t for me, those guys would’ve laughed in your face, Y/N. All you do is go to work, flirt with your co-workers and act all big shot around me. The least you could do is respect me and our relationship.” With that, he slammed the door shut, leaving you alone while you questioned your worth.

Yoongi

It started off as a calm and quiet evening but as soon as your phone vibrated, it quickly changed.

You began working for a new company and your new boss has been up your ass. He treats you like a personal assistant and it was pissing you off. You noticed that you were the only one who was being treated like this and it angered you. Once you’re clocked out, you don’t like to be disturbed unless it’s urgent. But your boss doesn’t seem to understand that and asks you to do work while your clocked out. You obviously refuse because why should you do work if you’re not getting paid?

Anyways, he’s always texting you about how to do different kinds of paper work, who’s working, who’s not working, how to hire people, ect — he should know how to do all of it because he’s the boss. When your off work, he’s texting you ever 10-15 minutes, asking for help. You’re tired of it, but can’t really do anything about it. You can’t quit just yet because you’re trying to prove to your boyfriend that you don’t need him to survive.

Yoongi has always underestimated you. Man literally thinks that you’re dumb. One night, you both got into a heated argument and he told you that you wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for him. The very next day, you went to a bunch of job interviews and got hired on that same day.

It’s been two weeks at your new job and ever since, your phone is always blowing up thanks to your boss. Even at 10pm, your boss is texting you about work. Yoongi became annoyed because you were always on your phone. You guys got into another argument about this so now, you hide your phone from him so he can’t see the notifications.

Ever since then, things have been a little better. Tonight was movie night and you foolishly had your phone in your hand. Throughout the movie, your phone was lighting up and vibrating multiple times and a Yoongi was tired of it.

“Who the hell are you texting now?!” He snatched your phone out of your hands and when he saw that it was your boss, he threw your phone against the wall. “I told you to block that man! Yet, you go against me and continue to text him! Are you sleeping with him? Are you cheating on me with him?!” He screamed, making your heart leap out of your chest.

You didn’t say anything. Instead you ran to the door. You didn’t want to deal with him anymore. You deserved better. You tried to leave but he slammed the door on your fingers and pulled you back inside. You slapped his face and tried leaving again but he grabbed your hair and pulled you down to the basement.

“You made me do this to you. I warned you plenty of times to stay off your phone but do you listen to me? No. I’ve given you too much freedom and now you don’t know how to behave. That stops now.”

Hoseok

“Get up. Boss wants to see you.” The guards said, pulling you up by your arms and dragging you out of the cell. “Boss my asshole. Who does he think he is? Kidnapping me for no good reason. I just wanted coffee and now I’m god knows where!” The guard chuckles at your bratty behaviour. “Just a little advice, don’t talk to boss like that. He’ll blow your brains out.”

“Shut up, muscle head. Don’t tell me what to do.” The guard stops and aims a gun at your head. “Do it muscle head. Your boss will be so proud of you.” You said sarcastically. “Shut your mouth and keep walking. I may not be allowed to kill you but I can still still hurt you — really badly.”

“Are you threatening me muscle head?” You turn around, ready to scrap with the guard. He may be a lot bigger than you, but you’re a lot smarter and clever.

“Hey, hey, do we have a problem here?” A familiar voice interrupted. You turn around and your heart drops when you see his face. “No, boss. She’s just refusing to-”

“Hoseok?” You cut the guard off and step back. “Oh, so you still remember me?” He smirks and walks towards you but you keep walking back. “What do you want from me?”

“Isn’t the answer obvious? I want you back.”

“No! I broke up with you because you’re crazy. Leave me alone now. I’m a different person. I’m not the same Y/N that you manipulated and controlled. I left her behind. Now let me go!”

Hoseok cornered you. There was no where to run. “Are you sure that you left her behind? You’re claiming that you changed but you’re still very naive, darling.”

His words made your blood boil. Hoseok mentally and emotionally abused you. With the help of therapy, you were able to pick up and put your broken self together. You thought that you’ve become a stronger person, but as soon as you saw his face, your confidence was washed away.

“I- I told you, I’m different now!” You tried to sound brave, but your facial expression sold you out. Hoseok wasn’t dumb; he knew you were scared shitless. “So, show me that your a different person. How will you escape me this time, darling?” He traps you in between his arms and leans in close to your face. In a panic, you slapped him across the face and made a run for it.

You somehow managed to get out of his large mansion, but Hoseok was running after you the whole time. You tried losing him at sharp turns and big crowds, but he was right on your ass. You saw a security guard and bolted towards him. “Sir, sir! There’s a- a man...” you said, to catch your breath, “a man chasing me. He kidnapped me. Please, I need your help.”

“That’s enough darling.” Hoseok caught up to you and without a second thought, you hid behind the security guard. “Sir, please! Arrest this man! He kidnapped me!”

The security guard was ready to take action until he saw the man’s face. “M-mr. Jung?! Sir, I had no idea that she was running from you! Sir, I’m so sorry! Please forgive me!” The guard grabbed your arm and pushed you to Hoseok.

The commotion had everyone watching. The security guard was on his knees with his hands interlocked together. “Please spare my family and I. Mr. Jung it was an honest mistake.”

“What the hell?” You quietly muttered. “You see that, darling. Everyone is afraid of me. So you can run all you want, but you can never ever hide from me.”

Namjoon

After a long week of work, your husband wanted to treat you to dinner. You’ve both been extremely busy due to your hectic schedule and it’s caused you both to drift apart. The only time you see Namjoon is in the morning and before going to bed.

It was Friday evening and you were getting ready for date night. You wore a gorgeous dress that was somewhat revealing but you were fine with it. You just wanted to look good for your husband.

You both agreed to meet at the restaurant and when Namjoon saw you, his jaw dropped. He possessively wrapped his arm around your waist and guided you to your private table. It was outside on a balcony. You guys had an ocean view, the weather was perfect and the stars were out. It was super romantic.

The date was perfect until the waiter started checking you out. Namjoon was visibly annoyed by the waiter but kept it to himself until he left. “Why did you have to wear that dress? Are you doing this on purpose? So other guys can check you out?” You were taken back by his questions. “No, I wore this dress for you, not for some random men.”

Namjoon scoffed and bit the inside of his cheek. “When will you stop lying?” He mumbled, but you were able to pick it up. “I’m not lying, Joon. And quite frankly, I’m hurt that you think I’m doing this for other men. You’re making me feel bad about myself.”

You got up and left but he followed behind. You walked out of the restaurant and got into your car. You drove back home without giving Namjoon a second glance. Once you arrived home, Namjoon pulled up next to your car. You both entered the house in silence.

Namjoon’s phone began ringing so, he went upstairs to answer it. After tidying the house, you went upstairs and overheard his conversation. “We could’ve had a wonderful night, but my wife doesn’t know how to dress.”

Now, he’s pissed you off. You slam open the room door, grab his phone and hang up. “Do you enjoy putting your own wife down?! Do you enjoy humiliating her?! I wore this dress for you! I wanted to look good for you! I wanted you to complement me and tell me I look pretty but instead you slut shame me!”

Out of anger, you slap him across the face. “I want a divorce. I’m not staying with someone who made me feel like complete shit. You can keep this house, I don’t want anything from you.”

Namjoon looked down and started to laugh. His laugh gradually got louder and it started to creep you out. You took a couple steps away from him but he noticed and grabbed your wrist. “You want a divorce? So you can go back to that restaurant and gets that waiters number? Over my dead body. You’re never leaving me. If I have to hurt you, I will.”

Jimin

“Jimin! Stop it! You’re overreacting!”

Jimin dragged you out of his friends house and pushed you into the car, creating a scene. Everyone was watching him degrade you for not wearing your wedding ring.

“You forgot?! What kind of wife do I have?! Are you dumb?! How could you forgot to wear your wedding ring?! That ring shows everyone that you’re mine!”

Jimin was full on screaming in your face and you couldn’t handle it. You broke down crying into your hands. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you! It truly wasn’t my intention.” You were beyond terrified. You didn’t want to go home because you knew he would punish you. Even though he humiliated in front of everyone, you’d rather stay around people than go home and be alone with him.

You were about to go down on your knees until he slapped you and dragged you along. You tried getting out of his grip and in the process you accidentally slapped him. It wasn’t a hard slap or anything, you were just trying to get away. But of course, Jimin made it a big deal.

“First, you forgot your wedding ring; second, you flirted with all my friends and now, you slapped me?! Why don’t you want to leave, huh?! Who are you sleeping with?! Who are you trying to replace me with?!”

“No one! I didn’t mean to slap you! I’m sorry!” You were crying your eyes out. You’ve never seen Jimin this aggravated. You were afraid of what he might do to you so, you gave in because you didn’t want to worsen your punishment. He pushed you into the car and slammed the door shut. Throughout the car ride, his hand squeezed your thigh.

“You don’t even know what’s coming your way. Just wait till we get home” He muttered, causing your heart to drop into your stomach.

Taehyung

“Taehyung! Let me go! People are going to notice that I’m missing! You can’t keep me here forever!” You yelled, banging on the metal door.

It was your foolish mistake; trying to break up with him at his house. The moment you told him you want to part ways, he grabbed you and pushed you into the basement. Of course you fought back, but miserably lost against him. Now it was a game of waiting. Waiting for someone to notice your presence missing.

- 3 days later -

It been a couple days and you’re still locked in the basement. There was no clock or a window so you couldn’t keep track of time. Taehyung hadn’t come downstairs to check on you either. You were starving and living off the bathroom tap water. You were lying on the ground, looking lifeless when the heavy metal doors opened.

“Are you done playing your childish games?” Taehyung asked, crossing his arms. “You should be asking yourself that question, Taehyung. I’m not playing any games. I’m serious when I say I want out of this relationship.”

Taehyung closed the doors and walked towards you. He grabbed your shirt and pulled you close to his face. “All the years we spent together, you wanna throw it all away, angel?”

You turn your head away from him, avoiding his dark orbs. Taehyung noticed you avoiding his eyes so he pushed you against the wall and leaned in close to your face. “Look at me when I talk to you, angel. Or are you scared?” You were on the verge of tears but you didn’t want to appear weak in front of him. You looked him straight in the eyes and muttered, “get away from me.”

“You don’t tell me what to do, angel...” he grabbed your ear and tugged on it, “I’m your master. You listen to me.” His deep voice sent chills down your spine. You were close to dropping on your knees and submitting to him out of fear. But you didn’t. You couldn’t show him that you’re weak. “Taehyung, I’m serious! Get away from me!”

Taehyung frowned. You were really getting on his nerve. Was he not a good boyfriend? He spoiled you with gifts, spent all his time with you and he never cheated on you. What was he doing wrong? He thought to himself. “Why is my perfect, little, angel acting out? Look at me, angel. Tell me what I did wrong? Did you fall out of love? Did you find someone new?”

You look at him, dumbfounded. “Taehyung, you’re trying to control me! You’re making my decisions for me. I can’t go out alone, and if I do, you stalk me! Then you get possessive for no reason! You almost killed my bestfriend because he gave me a hug! You take things too far and you don’t trust me even after being together for years! You just want to control my life and feel like I’m suffocating when I’m with you.”

You could see fire in Taehyung’s eyes. He raised his hand, ready to slap you but before he could, you slapped him and ran for your life. You were light headed and weak, however if Taehyung finds you, you’ll face severe consequences.

Jungkook

Jungkook was going on and on about you going out with your male bestfriend.

You texted Jungkook last minute because you knew if you had told him earlier, he wouldn’t allow you to go. You simply messaged him, “I’m going out with Namjoon, I’ll be home by 6pm.”

Jungkook was livid. He called you multiple times but you were too scared to pick up. Finally, his 7th attempt was when you decided to pick up.

“Where the fuck are you?! I’m coming to pick you up right now.”

“Jungkook we just came to the restaurant, I’m not leaving.”

“Do you think it’s appropriate to go to a restaurant with another man?! What if people think you guys are dating, huh? You’re a fucking cheater. Tell me your location, now!”

“For the love of god, I’m not cheating on you! Namjoon and I have known each other since middle school. I’ve known him longer than I’ve known you. We are nothing but friends.”

Jungkook was pissed. He hung up the phone and went home. He poured himself a glass of whiskey before sitting down on the couch. He was waiting for your arrival. It was 5:54pm when the front door opened. You were right on time.

“See, I told you I’d be back by 6pm. I don’t know why you have to make everything such a big deal.”

“While I’m working my ass off, you’re out with another man.” He said, putting the glass of whiskey down.

“I work too, Jungkook. And I’m a full time student. If you want to get even with me, go out with your female friends. I wouldn’t mind at all. As long as they remain friends.”

Jungkook stood up and starting walking towards you. “So, you can cheat, but I can’t?” A taunting smile took over his face.

“Again, Jungkook? I am not cheating on you! Namjoon is just my close friend. That’s all. Nothing more or less.” You said, crossing your arms and unconsciously stepping back.

“Stop lying. Just tell me now and maybe I’ll forgive you.” You scoff and roll your eyes. “I don’t have time to deal with you, Jungkook. I’m tired.”

“Yeah, because you were fucking around with Namjoon, right?”

You couldn’t take it anymore. You turned around to leave but Jungkook pulled you back, harshly. Instinctively, your hand landed a heavy slap on his face. Unexpectedly, Jungkook slapped you right back — but a lot harder.

You winced as you held your warm cheek. Hot tears gliding down your face. Without thinking twice, you made a run for the door but Jungkook tackled you to the floor.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?!”

You can make your own ending:)

#dark bts #bts yandere reaction #yandere bts #bts yandere #bts smut #bts reaction #yandere bts reaction

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outivv · 4 years ago

Note

h e h e b i g b w a i n- The Boys, but they did something really stupid, like I'm talking its facepalm worthy stupid. Their crush/ s/o ends up finding out and they take in a deep breath, proceeds to tell them they have 30 seconds to run, before either grabbing a spray bottle or rolls up a newspaper, then literally starts to chase them with said object, and tries to hit them with the newspaper or tries to spray them with the spray bottle. (you can add anyone else btw! take care♡)

Synopsis: I’m not even sure how to explain this... but crack fluff with the tall boys :’)

Warnings: none!

Game/ fandom: genshin impact

Characters: Diluc, kaeya, childe. Zhongli, and Dainsleif

Pronouns for reader: gender neutral/ not mentioned

A/n: I literally snorted when I read this, and it’s mostly because I started imagining how zhongli would react. Omfg this is so funny, and a lot of fun to write, so I hope you like it, cause I really enjoyed writing this! Take care of yourself! (Also im so sorry this took me so long schools kicking my ass right now 🥲)

— zhongli —

Zhongli went to go buy some groceries for a special dinner you were making tonight, but once again forgot his wallet. It’s hard getting used to not being able to make more out of thin air alright! But he came home feeling rather defeated. When you asked him what was wrong and where the groceries are, he just sighed. You knew, but wanted him to explain.

You got up and grabbed a rolled up news paper saying, “zhongli. I love you. But. You have 10 seconds to run.” Zhongli couldn’t help but hold back a chuckle. What were you gonna do hit him with the newspaper? Really? He’s not some sort of animal???

“Did you not hear me?” You said after he didn’t move. Really? You were serious? Haha, yeah ok. He still refused to move smiling amusingly at your words. “Hope you can plan your own funeral when you’re dead. Er... again.” You said jokingly. Then you started running from your place in front of the couch towards him. So then he opened the door swiftly and just started to book it. Running down the streets of liyue, at least he remembered his wallet before he left.

— childe —

Fun fact! The thing that childe did that was facepalm worthy stupid in this is something that I’ve done myself! :D

Childe called cows horses. He called... cows... horses. Yeah so you laughed at him, and then got the spray bottle. “Why are you getting that?! It’s not like I did something wrong?! Just... called cows horses.” He questioned. You only laughed and said, “doesn’t matter. You have 30 seconds to run”

He didn’t take you seriously at first, but then when you started counting, and getting closer to 1... he started running. He ran so fast, that he forgot what he did that made you get the spray bottle. But that doesn’t matter, you caught up to him eventually.

— kaeya —

Oh kaeya... I’m my opinion one of the smartest characters in all of genshin. Left cupcakes in the oven when he was making them to surprise you. Well... it certainly was a surprise. Just... not a good one.

He really wanted to try his hand at baking, but forgot one crucial detail... he can’t bake. He can cook very very well, but bake? No. He almost burnt the house down! So what did you do? Got the spray bottle. “Kaeya. I love you, and I’m appreciative that you tried to bake cupcakes for me. But. Never do it again. And you have 20 seconds to run.” You said with a sly smile.

Kaeya turned around quickly to face you. “Haha... what do you mean love?” He said nervously. “You know exactly what I mean. And now you’re at 10 seconds.” He never ran so fast in his life. Not even during knights training!

— Diluc —

Diluc had a good head on his shoulders, and rarely does anything too stupid. That being said, he almost gave klee wine instead of grape juice. You were watching over her one day, due to albedo being away, and the knights being too busy. So... Jean had asked you to watch over her. And Diluc mistook the new wine that he was gonna sell tonight at angels share... for grape juice.

“Diluc what the hell?!” You said snatching the glass out of klee’s hands much to her confusion. “I am so sorry!” He shouted panicking deeply on the inside. You sighed knowing it was an honest mistake and said, “it’s alright Diluc, but.” You grabbed the spray bottle “how about it klee why not teach Diluc a lesson?” Klees eyes lit up with excitement understanding what you were hinting at, while Diluc started getting confused and still slightly panicking.

Klee nodded, and you picked her up putting her on your back. “You have 30, no! 10 seconds to start running!” Klee shouted from over your shoulder. Diluc chuckled calming down, and smiled saying, “do I now?” Your gaze turned to one of mischief and playfulness. “You heard her, and if I were you I’d start running.” You said smiling. Oh you were serious?! In a few minutes Diluc was soaked, while you and Klee laughed triumphantly.

— Dainsleif —

Dainsleif has had some embarrassing moments in his long life, but the most unfortunate one was when he forgot your traveling packs in the Oceanids lair. “Oh crap...” he said remembering your packs. “What? Where... where are the packs...” you said. He was supposed to grab them before you left. Looking over your shoulder you could make out the packs... sinking in the water. you groaned and panicked. Nothing was salvageable.

You turned to Dainsleif anger in your eyes. Then you got an idea. “Dain, love, you have 3 seconds to run.” You said the warm reassurance in your voice turned serious. “Wha... what?!” He said worried, and lowkey scared. “You heard me.” You said. He ran so far away from you, but you managed to catch up and tackle him. I imagine if you could carry him you’d throw him in a pond or lake for some sort of revenge.

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hazzasgayvodka · 4 years ago

Text

Panty Thief - Harry Styles

So this is kind of a trial run for this fic, I’m inclined to make this a series but I’m not sure how the response to it will be. I have lots of ideas for more parts to this but only if it’s what the people want haha. Here is my belated Valentine’s Day gift to all you lovelies I hope you enjoy this heavy daddy kink/dom harry fic I’ve been working on for ages!

p.s. everyone say thank you Nathan for giving me lots of smut inspiration this is literally based on him sorta

pairing: daddy!harry x oc

warning: sexual content, smut, daddy kink/dom vibes so if you’re not here for that this is not for you

word count: 5k

In which Harry is a new student at Harley’s university and he seems to just keep popping up everywhere. The tension between them is palpable and she can’t get away from him, especially when he happens to knock on her door with a pair of her favorite red lace panties she left in the laundromat dangling from his finger.

I roll my eyes as the lady in front of me in line takes out yet another handful of coupons from her purse at the checkout counter. The cashier looks almost as annoyed as I am, but still sporting a smile despite the absolute exasperation rampant in her eyes. She takes the handful of coupons and starts scanning them begrudgingly as the woman digs around in her purse for anymore and I hardly even notice my foot tapping as my eyes instinctively roll once again. I just came to get toilet roll, ice cream, and a bottle of prosecco and the universe decides today is the day coupon Karen ends up at the checkout line five minutes before I do.

“I like your hair.” A voice speaks up behind me.

I know they must be talking to me, I don’t believe any other boring college blonde in this line warrants a compliment like that but the bright purple curls I sport tend to elicit quite the reaction from bystanders, especially the uninteresting conservatives of Publix.

“How do you uh, get it that color?”

I finally turn my head over my shoulder to face the voice, a tall guy with tousled brown hair and quite the shit eating grin on his face. He’s obviously very pleased with himself finally getting me to turn around but I can’t be bothered to entertain this excited puppy of a man with more than a word.

“Dye.”

I’ve barely even gotten the word out of my mouth before I turn back to face the cashier with an uninterested eyeroll. He scoffs behind me, clearly not giving up that easily.

“Wow,” He chuckles, “At least you’re straightforward.”

I turn back around without thinking to face him once again, “Hair dye, idiot.”

“Oh, well I could have guessed that much.”

I turn away from him again just as coupon lady finally pushes her rattling cart towards the exit doors and the cashier gestures for me to come up to the checkout. I drop my basket on the conveyor belt with a thud and she rings it up quickly, sensing my impatience and clearly wanting to get me the hell out of here as quickly as she can. I pay and grab my bags to head for the door and just before I’m home free the voice is suddenly behind me yet again.

“So, are you really not going to tell me?” He asks, catching up to me outside, “It’s going to keep me up tonight, I’m waiting with bated breath over here.”

“Tell you what exactly?” I huff, finally turning to face him.

“How you get your hair that color, of course.”

I roll my eyes, surely, he’s not keeping this bit up for the sake of hitting on me in the fucking supermarket, “Do you want something from me?”

He chuckles a bit, and I’m glad to see my utter frustration is amusing to him, “I mean,” He starts, rubbing the back of his neck, “Maybe your name would be cool.”

“No thanks.”

“Well, I’m Harry-“

I turn and walk away before he’s barely got the sentence out of his mouth. What was he even in line to buy? He wasn’t carrying any bags.

Mental note: always wear headphones to the grocery store.

***

“You’re late.”

I collapse in the seat next to my friend Danielle with a huff. She gives me a certain look that says something like you’ve been late the past three times too, but honestly at this point she should know to expect it.

“I’m always late,” I groan, attempting to lean back in the incredibly uncomfortable library chair, “So, why are we at the library?”

“We have a math test tomorrow, or did you forget about that?” She asks, scolding me over the top of her math book.

“Of course I remembered,” I say sarcastically, “Math is my absolute favorite subject how could I ever forget we had a test?”

She rolls her eyes, turning her book to the right page to start taking notes and I try my best to follow along, “So do you have a legitimate reason for the lateness or just regular Harley excuses?”

“Actually, I do,” I say matter-of-factly, sitting back up straight in my chair, “There was a freak at the grocery store, dude would not leave me alone.”

“What was he doing?” She asks, suddenly interested.

“Just talking? I guess? He like wanted to have a whole conversation waiting to check out.”

“So, a nice guy just struck up some conversation with you at the store and that’s a bad thing?”

“Yes,” I huff, closing the book once again, “I was just there to get groceries I didn’t need the extra human interaction.”

She opens her mouth to reply but she’s cut off as a group of guys walk in the front door of the library talking at full volume. I can feel almost every person in the room turn in the direction of the loud noise at the front and suddenly my eyes land on him. There’s no fucking way.

“Dani,” I whisper, sliding down in my seat so I can go unseen, “Dani that’s the guy, the guy from earlier.”

“What?” She whispers harshly, trying not to stare as the boys get scolded by the librarian at the front, “You mean grocery store guy?”

“Yes!” I huff, electing to sit in my chair backwards so my back is to him.

“No way Harley, it just looks like him-”

“No Dani, it’s him,” I whisper, “Tall one with the curly hair in the black hoodie.”

“That’s him?” She asks, “You had a problem with that talking to you?”

“Shh!” I huff, “God he’s going to hear you, are they still at the front?”

“They um, yeah,” She stutters, her eyes diverting to her book again, “They’re still up there, at a table now.”

“What’s wrong?” I ask, sensing the discomfort in her voice and turning around myself.

My eyes immediately lock onto his and I look away quickly, shielding my face from him with my hand and turning back towards Danielle.

“He’s staring right at you.” She says, trying not to be too obvious.

“Yep.”

“Are you gonna go over there?”

“Why would I do that exactly?” I ask, my eyebrow raised in disbelief.

“Because a hot boy is staring you down across the fucking library!” She whispers harshly, reaching over to smack me in the arm.

“More like a fucking psychopa-”

“Hey there,” I hear his voice cut in and my whole body cringes in on itself without my volition, “Fancy meeting you here.”

I turn around in my chair, forcing myself to face him while my whole face heats and I’m sure I’m the color of a rather ripe tomato. Something about the way he says hey there in that fucking accent makes my entire body tense up.

“Hey there,” I mimic, “Long time no see.”

I feel Danielle’s eyes on me as the words come out of my mouth, her gaze flickering between the two of us and watching the horrifically awkward exchange play out in front of her.

He laughs, electing to lean on the table, “What are you doing after this?”

“She’s doing absolutely nothing.” Danielle answers for me and I kick her under the table, making her wince.

“Glad to hear it,” He grins, his eyes zeroing in on me once again.

“I’m very busy actually,” I cut in, closing my textbook and throwing it in my bag, “We both are, but um, I’ll see you around.”

Danielle is looking at me with eyes the size of dinner plates as she frantically packs up her stuff, shoving it in her bag to follow suit. I stand up from my chair, slinging my bag over my shoulder and he rounds the table to stand right in front of me, the only thing between me and the front door.

“Can I at least get your name?” He asks, his voice incredibly deep clearly for only me to hear.

“Harley,” I quip, side stepping around him, “See you later uh, Harold is it?”

He gives me a very particular look as I walk away from him, taking steps backward and relishing in the smirk on his face. He knows what I’m doing. I feel Dani’s hand grab my arm and I finally turn around to face the door, walking through it, but even as I’m outside and carrying my feet down the steps I feel his eyes on me, drilling into the back of my head.

“The hell was that?” Danielle asks, “He was so cute and you just, you just blow it like that?”

“Harmless flirting.”

“You call that flirting?”

“Oh Dani,” I sigh, taking out a cigarette and lighting it between my lips, “I call that winning.”

***

I’m woken up with a start when I hear the loud roar of music start from Dani’s room. She always blasts music in the morning while getting ready for class. I look over my shoulder to check the time, at least she waited until 10 to start with the noise. My head is pounding ever so slightly, and I realize why when my eyes land on the empty bottle of pink Moscato on my bedside table.

I drag myself out of bed and into the tiny common space between our two rooms, “Good morning sleeping beauty,” Danielle teases, “I noticed the bottle of wine went missing from the fridge.”

“That’s bizarre,” I joke, “Must be a wine thief in the dorms. I’ll get on that mystery right away.”

She shakes her head at me, rolling her eyes as I grab my basket of laundry from my room. I slide on a pair of slippers electing to go put it in the wash, so I hopefully have a single clean pair of jeans for class tonight. I call to Dani letting her know I’ll be right back and as soon as I open the door to the hall I’m staring at him.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” I groan.

He stops dead in his tracks, taking a glance over his shoulder to see me standing in my doorway. He’s dressed in only a towel, holding it closed while it hangs low on his hips. His hair is wet, clearly making his way back to his room from the showers and his chest and arms are rippling with muscles under his damp skin.

God those arms could crush me like a grape.

“Morning neighbor,” He grins, clearly getting a kick out of this, “Someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?”

“You’re in this building?”

“You bet, room 7C down the hall.”

“Well, neighbor, for future reference, most people in this building take their clothes to the shower with them.”

“You Americans,” He chuckles, starting to walk away from my doorway, “So prude, have a nice day Harley.”

He disappears down the hall and then behind his door and my mind gets to work on picturing what he looks like without the towel. You can nearly feel the tension between us in the air, it was palpable. I could even feel his eyes on me, looking me up and down and lingering on my lips. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to clear my head as I take a deep breath and start on my way to the laundry room downstairs.

I put a load in the wash, briefly tuning into the dramatic soap playing on the tiny TV hung on the wall. I decide to head back to my now empty room since Danielle left for class and end up wasting most of my day away on a bad Netflix original movie, only pausing half way through to go move my clothes to the dryer.

I order a pizza for dinner before my night class and go back downstairs to grab my laundry out of the dryer. Just as I’m opening the dryer and emptying my clothes back into my basket I get a text that the pizza guy is downstairs waiting for me.

“Shit, shit, shit.” I huff under my breath, quickly shoving all my clothes in my basket and slamming the dryer shut behind me.

I rush back to my dorm, chucking the basket of clean clothes inside before heading to the stairwell and nearly sprinting down them to get to the ground floor. I meet the rather impatient pizza guy downstairs before bringing the food back up to my room. I’ve just barely finished the first slice half way through a Criminal Minds episode when there’s a knock at the door. I groan, dragging myself from the couch and tossing the blanket off.

I open the door, rolling my eyes, “Dani, you have got to start remembering your key when you-” I’m cut off as I come face to face with him rather than Dani, “Oh, um, hi?”

“Hi,” He repeats, now dressed in a pair of grey joggers and a plain black t-shirt, “I believe you dropped something in the laundry room earlier.”

He reveals his arm from behind his back, holding out his hand with my bright red lacy thong dangling from his pointer finger. I can feel my entire face heat to match the shade of my panties, but I won’t let him get the satisfaction. I go to snatch them from his hand, but he stops me, gripping them in his fist instead and using them as leverage to pull me a bit closer to him.

“Probably want to be a bit more careful where you leave your panties lying around, darling,” He smirks, “Unless you want to leave them on my bedroom floor of course.”

It’s the final straw, those few words spoken in his deliciously deep voice absolutely dripping with that amazing accented tone, on top of the way he’s dressed, every muscle visible beneath the fabric of his t-shirt. I don’t know what I’m doing until I’m pulling him to me by my own grip on the lacy underwear between us, my mouth meeting his and his teeth instantly biting my bottom lip between them.

“Yours or mine?” He breathes out, pulling away from me just long enough to get the words out.

“Where’s your roommate?” I ask breathlessly.

“Vacation,” He says, “Till Wednesday.”

“Yours,” I laugh, pressing my lips back to his, “Definitely yours.”

He walks me backwards down the hall to his dorm room, shoving me up against the wall as he unlocks the door, his lips working down my neck. As soon as the door is open he walks me through it, bending down to grab the backs of my thighs and hoisting me into the air. He kicks the door closed with his foot and I laugh against his mouth as he carries me past his bedroom doorway, slamming that behind us as well.

He lays me out on the bed, nearly tossing me right on top of the mattress, my lacy red underwear still gripped in his hand.

“Any chance you got something this cute under there?” He chuckles, holding them up in both hands to really show them off.

“Why don’t you come find out?” I tease.

He rolls his eyes, finally kneeling onto the edge of the bed and crawling over to me. He starts to lean over me, but I shove his shoulder, forcing him to lay against the mattress before swinging my leg over him. I can feel him underneath me immediately and it makes my legs clench together on either side of him.

“Hi,” I breathe, planting my hands on his chest and meeting his eyes.

“Hi,” He repeats back to me, that bright smile of his making my stomach flip, “You gonna come down here or...?”

“Oh, shut up,” I laugh finally leaning down and connecting our lips once again.

His lips are ridiculously soft against mine while the feeling of his muscles under his t-shirt are quite the opposite. He reaches up to cup my face with both hands, trying to somehow pull me closer as if we aren’t close enough as it is. I can’t figure out exactly where I want to put my hands; his shoulders, his biceps, god, in that amazing curly hair.

My hips start to move against him without my volition and he groans into my mouth, a deliciously deep reverberation that makes me grind my hips into him even more. He grunts against my lips, finally pulling away and resting his forehead against mine instead, breathing heavily.

“You alright there tiger?” I tease him, threading my fingers through his hair, “Need a breather already?”

“Shut your mouth,” He chuckles, grabbing me around the waist and trying to flip us over so he’s on top.

He greatly underestimates the size of his twin dorm bed when he does so, both of us rolling off the edge and tumbling to the shag carpeted floor beneath us. I expect the mood to be ruined, for him to get up and usher me right out the door because how awkward is this, right? I’m beyond surprised when he starts laughing, both of us splayed flat on our backs and heaves out a sigh as he rolls over to face me again.

“That was pretty smooth of me, eh?” He jokes, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

I shake my head, chuckling too, “No I’m okay, just gonna have a massive bruise on my ass most likely.”

He laughs again, finally pulling himself to his feet and offering me a hand to help me up. I’m not sure what I expect past that, maybe a hug to send me on my way now that the atmosphere has completely changed but that tension is still between us, the same tension that’s been building since the moment he said a single word in the supermarket.

The second I’m back on my feet he shoves me onto the bed and I can’t even begin to hide the shock in my features. He’s back on top of me in seconds, his lips pressed to mine and I’m sure the surprised whimper that leaves my mouth fuels his ego to the gods.

“You alright there tiger?” He mocks, and I resist the urge to reach up and slap him.

“Careful.” I quip, pulling away from him to meet his eyes.

“Careful?” He asks, quirking up his eyebrow at me, “I’m sorry are you telling me what to do sweetheart?”

I gulp, the smooth but stern voice he’s using making my thighs quiver. He seems to notice, his eyes darting down between us and a small chuckle escaping his lips. He looks back up at me, his eyes dark and brooding, before they flicker to my hands at my sides. He grabs my left wrist roughly, holding it above my head against the mattress before doing the same to my right arm as well. I’m nearly squirming underneath him, my entire body steaming to the touch as his eyes bore into mine.

“Something wrong, love?” He asks, the condescending tone to his voice making my whole body shake.

“Course not,” I pant, my breath coming out heavier than I anticipated, “Just fuckin peachy over here.”

He chuckles a bit, his grip on my wrists growing tighter, “You’re not very patient, you know that?”

I’m not sure what it is that’s making me writhe the way I am; perhaps it’s the countless months I’ve gone without sex since my last messy breakup, or maybe it’s the way in which this all panned out with a stranger over some fucking underwear, or fuck, maybe it’s just him and the way that cocky smirk on his face makes my insides twist.

“Patience is a virtue,” I say carefully, making sure to keep my tone even, “I’m more about vices.”

His left hand releases my wrist and I prepare myself for his hand reaching where I need him most, sucking in a breath between my teeth and letting my eyes flutter closed but it never comes. My eyes peel back open to see his hand hovering over my neck instead. He meets my eyes before his fingers finally grace the skin of my throat, applying just the slightest bit of pressure almost as if to test the waters.

I’m nearly dizzy as he does so, the temperature in this room suddenly a million degrees. He removes his hand again, the pressure around my throat leaving me and I whimper in distaste, making him chuckle again.

“Poor thing,” He chastises, my legs clenching together on either side of him, “I can’t do it all though, if only there was a way I could hold down both your wrists and choke that pretty neck.”

I watch his hand dig into the pocket of his joggers and once again pull out the thin red lacy fabric of my panties, holding them between us.

“Mind if I use these?” He asks, clearly knowing the answer but wanting to get a reaction out of me anyways.

“Yes, god,” I gulp, “Please.”

He grabs my hands, moving them completely above my head before wrapping the panties around them a few times, tying them together. He tugs on them a bit to make sure they’re pretty secure before looking back down at me, his eyes completely blown out in lust, his pupil swallowing his surrounding iris.

His lips are back on mine in seconds, his now free hands roaming my body before one hand rests on my neck, gripping the sides and applying a bit more pressure than the last time. I whimper into this mouth and curse myself for doing so as soon as my eyes flutter open to see that cocky smirk on his face once again.

“Eager, sweetheart?” He teases, and my hand reaches up to smack him before I remember I’m bound in a pair of my own underwear, “Ah, ah, be a good girl and stay still.”

Hearing the words good girl come out of his mouth makes my entire body squirm and he grins again, that lopsided condescending grin and I know he’s getting off on this, making me writhe underneath him. He leans down to kiss my stomach, hiking my shirt up as he goes before working his way down and tugging my pants down my legs. I hold my breath in anticipation but when I look down the bed to meet his eyes he simply kisses the inside of my thighs, ghosting his mouth over the thin fabric of my panties.

“Fucking please,” I beg, my breath coming out in heaves, “Is this some kind of joke to you?”

“Please what, princess?” He asks, my legs threatening to squeeze his head between them, “Tell me what you want, hm?”

“You cocky bastard,” I huff, my mind getting fuzzier by the second the closer he gets to my center, “You know what I want.”

He stops abruptly, sitting back up from his small assault on my inner thighs, “What did you say, love? Care to repeat that? Couldn’t quite here you down here.”

There’s an edge to his voice, like glass, it cuts right through me and makes my thighs quiver, “N-no,” I stutter, “Didn’t say anything.”

“That’s what I thought,” He grins, leaning back down between my legs, “Now be a good girl and tell me what you want me to do to you.”

I suck in a breath sharply, but I won’t let him know how his words affect me, “Oh daddy,” I mock, rolling my eyes, “Need you so bad.”

He grabs me by the ankles, flipping me onto my stomach and sends an echoing smack to my ass, the stinging sensation that radiates afterwards making my toes curl. He flips me back onto my back, his dangerously dark eyes meeting mine as he spreads my legs apart once again, holding my thighs down against the mattress.

“Want to try that again, princess?”

“Fuck,” I gasp, the edge to his voice making the whispered swear fall from my mouth involuntarily, “Um, yes.”

“Yes what?” He growls, leaning down to hold my jaw in his hand, his eyes drilling into mine waiting for a response.

“Yes daddy.”

“Now you’re getting it, good girl,” He grins, his hand that was gripping my jaw moving to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, “Now open up,” I oblige, slowly opening my mouth and he pushes his middle and ring finger past my lips. It catches me a bit off guard, but he only nods his head, “Get them nice and wet for me love, don’t want to hurt you.”

He pulls them from my mouth, a small string of saliva connecting them to my lips. He chuckles a bit, clearly getting a kick out of how worked up I am for him before finally pushing my panties to the side and pressing his fingers into me. I instantly turn my head to the side, muffling the moan that escapes my mouth into my pillow. As soon as he realizes what I’m doing he grabs me by the hair, holding my head straight.

“None of that,” He says sternly, “Wanna hear your pretty sounds, babygirl.”

I’m dangerously close to the edge just from the words pouring from his mouth in that accented tone that makes my entire body shiver. That condescending smirk finds its way back to his lips and I know that he can tell I’m close, just teetering on the edge already.

“Needy little thing, are we?” He teases, “Already gonna cum and daddy’s barely touched you yet.”

His words are almost just enough to push me over the edge, but I hold off as much as I can, straining away from his touch as much as I can with my hands bound above my head and his weight on top of me. I feel the particular twist in my stomach, that burning sensation in the very pit of my abdomen just as my eyes squeeze shut and my vision goes white. His fingers work me through it, his mouth finally hovering over where I need him most, sucking my sensitive bud into his mouth and making me shake.

I feel his fingers withdraw from me and suddenly he’s pushing them past my lips once again, but this time I taste myself on them, swirling my tongue around each one to suck them clean. I meet his eyes as he pulls them from my mouth and my hips involuntarily buck up to meet the bulge prominent in his pants.

“Still needy, are we?” He chuckles.

“Please shut up and take your pants off already.” I beg, my hips bucking up to meet him again.

“You see I would but,” He starts, sitting back on his heels, “It seems I don’t have a condom, would you happen to have one?”

“Would I, no, you have got to be fucking kidding me,” I stutter breathlessly, my blood starting to boil in disbelief, “What kind of guy doesn’t keep a pack of rubbers around you idiot?”

“Careful,” He warns, his voice dropping into that deep calculated tone that makes me shiver, “And perhaps a guy that just moved in this week and hasn’t necessarily had buying rubbers on the mind,” He says, “That is until he met a spunky purple haired girl in the supermarket.”

His words make my stomach do a few somersaults, but I don’t let it extinguish the pissed off fire burning in my stomach knowing that I won’t be getting the relief I desperately need right now.

“You’re serious?” I ask, “You don’t have any?”

“Serious, darling,” He chuckles, “But instead of moping about it, you’re going to take what I give you and say thank you daddy when I’m done, understand?”

I nod my head vigorously, despite wanting to do the exact opposite. What kind of hold does that goddamn accent have on me?

“Good,” He smiles, clearly pleased with my response, “And maybe if you’re a good girl next time daddy will remember to hit the store.”

“Next time?” I ask, not filtering the shock from my voice.

He laughs a bit, reaching up to finally untie my hands, “Yes, next time, did you want this to just be a one-time thing, princess?”

I can’t form the words I want to say as I sit up a bit, rubbing my wrists only slightly from the rough fabric of the lace wrapped around them, “I um, I don’t-”

“That’s what I thought,” He smirks, standing from the bed and holding out a hand to me, “Now come on, didn’t you get pizza?”

I smile, taking his hand and starting to stand to my feet, my legs a bit wobbly and I’m thankful for the stability of his arm to lean on.

“Do you have anything to uh,” I start, cringing when I feel the wetness in between my thighs, “Clean up with?”

“Nope,” He says cheerfully, “You keep that pretty mess I made between those thighs, babygirl.”

My knees nearly buckle, and I’m cursing him for his lack of condoms and the ache between my legs as I pull my pants back on, following him to the door to the hall. He stops abruptly just inside the doorway, turning back to meet my eyes.

“What’s my name?” He asks cheekily.

“Harry,” I say confidently, “Why? Are you worried I forgot already?”

He grabs my ass in his hand tightly, squeezing the skin, his voice calculated, “I said, what’s my name?”

I gulp, leaning into his grip on me a bit more as my knees wobble, “Daddy.”

He releases his grip on my ass, giving it a quick smack, “’Atta girl, let’s get some pizza in you so you’re ready for round two,” He grins, throwing his arm around my shoulder and tucking me into his side as we walk down the hall to my room instead, “Maybe after we can hit the store, I seemed to have forgotten to pick something up last time I went.”

#harry styles #harry #harry styles smut #one direction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #one direction smut #harry smut #harry styles oneshot #daddy!harry #dom!harry #sub!y/n

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aliwritesfic · 3 years ago

Text

The Night Shift part 10 (F!Reader x Frankie Morales)

Summary: back to work :( frankie and the boys are sweeties tho

W/C: 1.3k

Warnings: none I think but its late and i'm probably wrong so pls let me know if i need to add some

AN: this is just a quick lil filler chapter before a biiiiig one on either friday or monday, depending on when I finish it, but I wanted to get this one out because part 11 might be late because im very in my Feels about it (and i think you will be too)

Spotify

Part 1 Part 11

Frankie noticed every time your head snapped up, shadowy eyes darting towards the diner door. He noticed how your shoulders would lose some of their tension in relief whenever it was just a group of kids, or an elderly couple, or one of the people he’d come to realise were regulars to the diner.

You wore long sleeves tonight, telling him before leaving that it was to cover the ‘ugly ass’ bruise on your wrist. The less questions the better, you said with a smile that hadn’t reached your eyes.

Frankie carefully organised a stack of choc-chip pancakes on a gleaming white plate and set them on the window. You shot him a confused look – there weren’t any orders.

“You look hungry,” he told. Your face softened as you took the plate and grabbed a set of cutlery. It was nearing 1, and you were always hungry at 1.

“Do you know of any decent not-a-total-rip-off moving companies?” you asked after swallowing a mouthful. Frankie nodded.

“Yeah, me and the boys.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “No. You’ve already done so much I can’t ask you or any of your friends to give up one of their days just to get my shit back.”

“Well, yes you actually can,” Frankie countered, “and if the boys know something is important to me then they’ll help.”

“This is important to you?” Frankie fixed you with a stare and a raise of a brow. The look was one of pure are you serious right now? You threw up your hands and shrugged. “Okay, okay, I get your point. I’ll pay you guys, obviously.”

“Just a case of beer,” Frankie said. Tom might want money, but then against it was unlikely Tom would show up: he was leaving on Thursday. “Listen, just tell me the day you wanna do this and we will be there. I promise you that.”

You finished the pancakes and handed the plate back. “I was gonna let Lou know I wouldn’t be available on Friday night and get it done then.”

“Perfect, three-day weekend,” Frankie grinned. You smiled back, the first true smile he’d seen all night, and turned to greet a trucker who had just arrived.

Frankie grabbed his phone out of his pocket and opened the group text chat.

Catfish: Who’s free Friday for a favour?

Given the time, he wasn’t expecting an answer from any of them, so he was shocked when Benny texted back straight away.

Benny: Whatever it is, William and I are in. Even murder.

Catfish: It’s (probably) not going to come to murder. Just need help moving the girl I work with into her new place.

Pope: oh the 1 youre in love with? yeah ill help and ill bring that photo too

Frankie narrowed his eyes at the screen. He wouldn’t go so far as to say in love, so he decided to ignore that.

Catfish: It’s too expensive to hire moving ppl, so I said I’d help her, plus her ex is a cunt and I don’t know if he’ll try shit if it’s just her there

Pope: is she still there?

Catfish: No she’s staying at mine until she gets her stuff into her new place

Ironhead: Is this the guy you KO’d?

Catfish: Ok 1 why are you all awake? And 2 where did you hear that??? I didn’t KO him btw, but I could have if I felt like it.

Ironhead: I didn’t put my phone on silent

Ironhead: And I heard it from Benjamin. You know he loves gossip.

Benny: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Catfish: ????????? how did you do that?

Benny: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Frankie rolled his eyes and put his phone back in his pocket. They were impossible to talk to at this time of night, and he could already see that the conversation would just go in circles. He would find out how Benny made that weird little face though.

“Hey,” Frankie waved to get your attention, “the boys said they’d be happy to help, and they’ve all got pick-ups so no need to hire a moving truck.”

You looked confused, your eyes darting to the clock. “You spoke to them already?”

“Yeah, they’re light sleepers,” Frankie said. “Old army thing, I guess.”

You cleared your throat and blinked rapidly, “well, uh, let them know I’ll buy them all dinner as well as a case of beer each and money for gas. Whatever they need.” Frankie knew the boys wouldn’t accept your money, but he also knew you wouldn’t take no for an answer. This was something you could sort out Friday, he decided. If he was being honest, he was interested to see how would win that battle of wills. His money was on you. His money would always be on you.

~*~

“Can we go to the store quickly?” You asked, climbing into the truck next to Frankie once your shift was over. You were beginning to think of it as Your Spot now. Your spot, next to him, so close that if you wanted to you could reach out and hold his hand, lean over and kiss him.

“Yeah, what’d you need?” Frankie pulled out of the tiny diner parking lot and onto the road. Your cheeks heated slightly.

“A rotisserie chicken,” you mumbled, staring at one particular spot on the dash. “Sometimes when I’m . . . going through emotional turmoil I just need to eat. And I want a rotisserie chicken more than anything else right now.”

Frankie grinned his white toothed smile and you felt a little better about your habit. “That sounds like a fantastic idea, we should get two, one each.”

You smiled back, buoyed by the idea. The one and only time you had brought this up to Kurt, he had shot the idea down, grabbed your sides and commented on your weight. You knew there was nothing wrong with your weight, that there wasn’t no matter what size you were, but the comment hurt nonetheless.

But now you sat here in Frankie’s truck, and he seemed delighted with the idea of eating a whole rotisserie chicken in one sitting at 8AM. He drove to the grocery store, singing along to Stevie Nick’s Edge of Seventeen.

“I’ll go in, you wait here,” Frankie flashed you with a grin and raced into the store. You sat back, relaxed, and closed your eyes. You had been happier in the past twenty-four hours with Frankie than you had been almost the entirety of Kurt. You found yourself imagining a life with him; dinner at his cosy table, a new record playing every night, talking about your day at whatever jobs you had. Life with him would be comfort, it would be home. Your heart quickened at the thought of laying beside him each night in bed, bodies pressed against each other, skin against skin, delicious warmth -

His return snapped you out of your thoughts, the sight of him sent a rush of heat through you. He held a plastic bag in one hand, and keys in the other. “Should we eat these here or at home?”

Home.

The word sent a shiver of hope up your spine. Like he was saying it could be your home too. You moved an inch closer to him, so your thighs barely touched. It was electric though, the kind of touch that felt dangerous and familiar at the same time.

Your eyes met his and you wondered if he was feeling the same thing.

Taglist: @hnt-escape @sharkbait77 @1800-fight-me @annathewitch @darnitdraco @frankiecatfish @punkerthanpascal @nakhudanyx @gracie7209 @quica-quica-quica @pintsizemama @phoenix-of-loki

#the night shift #triple frontier #frankie catfish morales #frankie x reader #frankie morales x reader

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libraryofloveletters · 4 years ago

Note

the 9-1-1 men seeing you in the LAFD sweatshirt and cuddled up to them 😍🥺

Sweaters

Author’s Note: I added Hen too because I couldn't help myself :) also it’s currently the morning of February 8th. Here’s a lil fluff for y’all before we go batshit crazy over the buckley family secret tonight 😌

Word Count: 1.8k

Hen

Laundry day.

Oh how you despised laundry day.

You never did the laundry but Hen wasn’t home today and you figured it would be nice for her to come home and not have to worry. So as a good partner would, you tumbled through the house and collected all the dirty clothes, which included the flour covered shirt you were currently wearing and tossed it into the machine.

Now, if it were up to you, you’d just continue your day without a shirt but it seemed odd to do that, especially since you didn't know if Hen would be bringing any company home with her. Digging through the drawers, there were no clean shirts.

Are you kidding me right now ?

Finally spotting a shirt under a stack of pants, you tugged it out of the drawer. The front had the little fire station logo on it and the back read Los Angeles Fire Department. Not giving it a second thought, you pulled it on and went about your day.

Hen should be on her way home soon and you were sitting on the bed surrounded by clothes, folded and unfolded. You never realized how much work it took to fold laundry, you laid back against the pillows. The last thing you remember was the smell of freshly washed clothes.

“Babe? I’m home! Where are you ?” Hen calls out as she walks into the house. It was quiet but your car was in the driveway.

“Y/n ?!” she calls again, walking further into the house. Turning into the bedroom, she smiled at you. You were surrounded by the laundry and fast asleep. She moved some of the clothes over to the drawers and sat beside you on the bed. The bed shifted as Hen pulled the blanket over you.

“Hey” you give her a sleepy smile, “hey you, how was your day ?” she asks as you shift closer to her.

“Good, I did the laundry” you mumbled, your eyes shutting again.

“I like your shirt” she chuckles

You mumbled an answer, “yeah it looks better on you”

“I think I like this one better on you” her arm wraps around you as you fall back to sleep.

Eddie

“What colour should we do ? We got blue and red and uhhh-” you reached into the cupboard for the little bottle of food colouring “yellow” you turned to Christoper who was beside you. The two of you were baking cupcakes for the team.

“Green!” he shouted and you nod. “Sounds like a plan, now my little scientist, what do we mix to make green ?” “blue and yellow” he said, you take the lid off the little blue bottle and hand it to him, you do the same with the yellow. The two of you pour a ridiculous amount of food colouring in the frosting. Plugging in the mixer, you began mixing the frosting. After a few minutes, the two of you looking into the bowl.

“Well, that doesn't look right” The frosting a mucky green, almost brown colour rather than just the normal, light green colour you were going for.

“We should buy frosting instead” Chris says, sticking a finger into the bowl and tasting the frosting. “Does it taste good at least?” he gives you a smile, you take that as a yes. You were looking up grocery stores that were still opened and Chris was washing the frosting off his hands. You moved so that he could be the paper towel and accidentally hit the on button on the mixer.

Frosting ended up everywhere.

“Well that’s not good” You and Chris laugh. You wipe the frosting off his face and send him off to change his shirt as you clean up the kitchen. Looking down at your own shirt, you too, were covered in frosting. You walked to Eddie’s room and found one of his LAFD shirts laying on his bed. Pulling off your own, you pulled on his instead.

“Maybe we should just buy cupcakes instead ? We can just eat these later ?”

“Yeah!”

The two of you headed out to find a store that sold cupcakes and was still open. it was currently 10:30 at night and technically, Eddie told you to have Chris in bed by 9:30 but you could never say no to Chris, especially when he asked to bake with you. Arriving at the station, you headed in together. Bobby was the first one to see the two of you. He walked you two up to the kitchen where the team was.

“Dad!” Chris shouted, getting his father's attention. He looked surprised to see you two there. “Hey buddy!” he gave Chris a hug, “What are you guys doing here?”

“We have cupcakes” he told his dad, Eddie smiled and let him go. Chris went off to see Buck and Chim. “Hey you” you smiled at Eddie, walking over and setting the box of cupcakes on the counter. “Is that my shirt?” he asks, you settle yourself between his legs, leaning onto his thigh as he sat on the stool by the counter. “Yeah. We attempted to make cupcakes but the frosting part was a bit of a disaster so I just borrowed this”

His arms wrapped around your waist, “that’s okay, it looks better on you anyways”

Chim

These back to back shifts were kicking your ass. You hadn't had a proper night’s sleep in over a week and you were running purely on the fact that coffee exists. You finally had a night off and thought it would be nice to spend a night with your boyfriend. You arrived at his place a few hours before his shift ended.

His fridge was stocked for once and you decide you’d make dinner. You weren’t the best cook in the world but you knew enough to make a decent meal and not burn the place down. It didn't take long to make dinner and you still had half an hour before he got home so to the shower you went.

The shower felt like heaven on earth considering that you had been living off coffee and mini naps in the break room at work. You managed to find a pair of pants you left there after spending a night, as for your shirt, you couldn't find any of your shirts.

What kind of person leaves pants but no shirt ?

You pick up the one you had on before only to find a stain on it. Tossing it in the laundry basket, you turn to the closet to find something. There had to be something in here that you could wear. Not that he’d mind coming home to dinner and a shirtless you but you rather eat with your shirt on. You pulled out a t-shirt from his closet, it was his LAFD shirt but it didn't seem to make a difference to you, you’d leave it before you went back to your place.

“Honey I'm home!” Chim laughed as he shut the front door. You practically skipped out of the bedroom, it had been way too long since you last saw him. “Hi, I missed you” you pull him into a hug, “I missed you too” he smiled.

He looked over at the kitchen, “you cooked too?”

“Yeah, I had some time”

“Can I take a shower or is dinner gonna get cold ?”

“That’s fine, it’s probably already cold,” you laughed, “I'll heat it up, go take your shower” you push him off to the bathroom before going to the kitchen. You tidy up a bit as he’s in the shower.

“Babe?” he calls as he walks into the kitchen, “have you seen my- there it is” he points to the shirt, you look down.

“Sorry” you give him a smile, making him chuckle. “It’s okay, I'll wear the other one.”

“Wait, you have more than one?”

“Yeah, obviously,” he laughs, “why would I only have one?”

“Well then, I'm keeping this one”

Buck

Opposite shifts sucks.

Although the two of you live together, you kept missing each other. Whenever he was coming in, you were leaving and when you were leaving, he was coming in. For the last 2 months, your relationship consisted of “good morning, have a good day at work” and “good night, sleep well” as you pass by each other on the way out.

You finally just gave in one day and called in sick. Were you sick ? No, but you were exhausted. You were working morning shifts and Buck was working nights, so you’d be home when he got home today but he didn't know that. Seeing that you were already up, you made you way over to the closet to get a hoodie because for some reason, it was freezing in the apartment although it was probably warm outside. You spotted Buck’s black LAFD sweater in the closet, it was your favourite of his but it looked better on you, or so you thought.

Walking down to the stairs and to the kitchen, you find the stale coffee that Buck left in the machine on the counter. Dumping it in the sink and putting on a fresh pot. The fridge was empty, for the most part, there was milk, eggs, cheese and what looked like leftover takeout. You managed to find pancake mix in the cupboard and dumped all the ingredients in a bowl. The door unlocked and Buck’s shoes thudded against the wall by the door.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to kick your shoes off like that ? You’re going to scuff the wall” your back was facing him but you glance over your shoulder to see your boyfriend. He seemed shocked that you were home.

“I thought you had work ?” he makes his way over to you, hugging you from behind. “Called in sick, thought we could spend the day together ?”

“Yeah, I like that idea” he kisses your neck, as his arms wrap around your waist. “Maybe we should just go back to bed” he says as he lifts you off the ground. The whisk falls from your hand and falls into the bowl, “Buck! come on, I'm making breakfast for you” you pry at his hands, he just squeezes you tighter.

“I just wanna cuddle, I miss you” he somehow turns you around, his hands now gripping at your thighs. He mustered up his best puppy dog eyes and gave you a lil pout. “You’re an overgrown baby Evan Buckley, do you know that?” you roll your eyes, he smiles at you.

“Yeah, I know” he makes his way up the stairs and back into bed. He dropped you on the bed, you shifted back up against the pillow. He joins you in bed after he changes, his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into his side.

“Why do you smell like my cologne ?” he looked down at you, “is that my sweater ?”

“You mean our sweater ? Yes it is”

Buck laughed and shook his head, “yeah, our sweater looks cute on you”

----

taglist: @ssa-volturi @advicefromnixxxx @dralexreid @keenmarvellover @venusrosepetal @mikaelson-emma

#henrietta wilson #hen wilson #chimney han #chim han #howard han #evan buckley #evan buck buckley #buck buckley #eddie diaz #911 #9-1-1 #911 headcanons #911 hc #9-1-1 headcanon #9-1-1 hc

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manggojooz · 4 years ago

Text

Foolish Love, Fake Love (Part 10)

pairing: idol!Jungkook x bodyguard!reader

word count: ~2,590

genre: idol!au; angst; romance; drama; enemies to lovers sort of thing

warnings: some references to stalkerish behaviour

summary: If all you can give me is a fake love, then I will be the fool to pretend that it is all true.

Taglist: @a-hopelessly-imaginative-girl @dollwithluv @sweetcheeksdna @yeontanie21 @peachygiraffe14 @jeontaes-world @forvever-ddaeng @namjoonsslutakakoreanmanswhore @apurpledheart @ggukkieeee @witchxlove

You frowned at the smiley boy who awkwardly stood outside your door.

“Uhh, you gonna let me in... or we gonna stand here all night?” Jungkook asked.

“Let... let you in? But why-” you were still only half-awake.

Jungkook shoved his way past you in one swift move and you stumbled against the door slightly. Catching your balance again you quickly followed him into the apartment.

“What are you doing here?” you asked as you trailed him into your own kitchen.

“Ow, it’s so heavy, I can’t stand carrying it another minute sorry,” he lamented as he dumps the bags of groceries on the tabletop with a thump. “What’s this?” he asked as he peeked inside the bag that contained the chicken soup.

“Soup, I think...” you answered weakly.

“You ordered it?” he asked.

“No... I don’t know, some guy just came to deliver it...”

“Mmm okay,” he hummed mindlessly but melodically as he took the package away from the dining table and chucked it to the side of the counter. “Let’s see...” he murmured to himself as he took his handphone from his back pocket.

“What are you doing here?” you asked again.

He does not make eye contact with you but stares intently at his phone screen, “I heard you injured your shoulder from last night... I didn’t know and I thought...” he stops suddenly. He side-eyes you for a moment and notices that you were surveying him with that same frown. “Hmm,” he clears his throat rather forcefully, “I just wanted to say I'm sorry, I was overreacting because-”

“Because you thought Yeonjoo was hurt...” you completed his sentence.

“I didn’t know you hurt yourself while protecting her, to be fair it wasn’t really visible you know...” he voice faded as he sounded a little relieved now that the topic has been broached.

“It’s our job to get injured so that the people we protect won’t be. You don’t have to be sorry for that,” you replied matter-of-factly.

“I know I know... but I shouldn’t have jumped to a conclusion and accuse you or shout at you” he still avoided looking at you as he muttered this.

Sometimes apologies are like this – it does not necessarily make you feel better more so than it makes the other person feel better.

“So... why are you here at this time?” you questioned a third time.

“Ah... Yuri is at another schedule with some of the hyungs and since I am free tonight so I thought I should come and make sure you ate dinner... at least...” he was still half-mumbling.

“You are here to make me dinner?” you asked incredulously.

“Eo...” he answered affirmatively.

---

Jungkook buying sacks of groceries just to make you dinner was the most unimaginable thing even just a day ago, but it was happening right this moment. You were too tired to quarrel with the idea and he had insisted that you get back to resting until everything was ready.

You could hear a lot of tinkering, “ahh”, “ooh” and the occasional swearing from the kitchen even in your half-awake state. You had no idea how long this lasted but at some point you were awakened by a knock on your room door.

“Dinner’s ready... are you awake?” his voice was soft but his tone was the usual.

You pulled yourself out of bed and headed out to the dining table, marginally more alert than you were before.

The spread that lay before your eyes was a wonder – a bowl of plain rice, some kind of stew that looked like it had a mix of unrecognisable ingredients in it and some kimchi.

“Do I start with the soup or...” you wondered cautiously.

“It doesn’t look that appetising but I promise you that it tastes fine and this is beef bone stew with abalone and what’s that thing...” he wasted no time trying to promote his masterpiece.

You raised an eyebrow at him.

“It’s some traditional herb... I’m sure it’s good for health” he continued.

He looked at you expectantly as you took a tiny sip of the stew with caution. It tasted... barely edible.

“How is it? How is it?” he asked like a child who was asking for affirmation from his parents.

“It’s nice...” you answered soullessly, “are you not having any yourself?”

“Nope, it’s all for you” he answered very certainly and you weren’t really sure if this was all part of the bigger picture.

Be that as it may, you recalled how Yoongi felt bad for you at the hospital and did not want another one of them thinking that girls are too weak to do this job.

“About last night... I just need to say it again, you don’t have to feel bad that I was injured and I can understand why you were worked up so you didn’t have to do this, but thanks anyway” you said while looking him straight in the eyes, maybe the drowsiness helps with boosting confidence.

He sighed unintentionally. “Like I said earlier, I know I don’t have to feel bad about it but I was wrong to yell at you and I just feel bad because I assume that Yeonjoo was hurt while you were fine and... and... I guess she just looked really shaken and you looked fine so I thought...”

“It’s ok, I get it. It’s just that we usually try our best not to show it even if we are hurt” you explained.

“If you don’t show it how do people know that you are hurt... what's the point of hiding it?” Jungkook mumbles endlessly as he walked back into the kitchen. He picked up the ladle still in the pot of stew, and you were about to continue the conversation but he took a sip of his own masterpiece.

“Bleh... oh my gosh... what’s this? This taste horrible! You should have told me honestly that it tasted bad... wow...” he shouted with his tongue half-hanging out.

“As you know, it’s not my forte to show how I feel” you replied sarcastically.

“Ugh I just wanted to make you something nice... what the heck is this even... you know what, this isn’t counted. I'll buy you something nice, what do you want to eat?” he lamented.

You were never a fan of bland soups and porridges anyway.

“Hmm... steak, buy me a nice a steak” you requested.

“You can eat that now? Or do you mean when you are better?” his eyes were round with curiousness.

“It’s my rule that when the body is not feeling well, the mouth needs to eat even better than usual” you explained quite nonchalantly while taking another bite of the weirdly-seasoned stew. It seems like you were starting to get used to the taste of it.

“Ohhh, alright then. There is this place I know that’s really hard to get a spot at, I will use some connections and get you some really awesome steak. How about tomorrow, since it’s a rare that we don’t have any schedules... I mean if you are feeling better tomorrow...”

You nodded somewhat eagerly as you continued taking another mouthful of the mysterious stew.

“Wow, you still gonna drink that?” his eyes were very round and large, clearly depicting his amazement by your ability to stomach his stew. “I’ll send you the time and address tomorrow.”

---

The next day and an hour before seven.

“Where are you going?” Yuri was shocked to see you all dressed up.

“I... uh... I’m going for dinner” you stammered. You were going to meet Jungkook at the restaurant at 7pm and the restaurant unfortunately has a casual formal dress code requirement.

“You are going for dinner? With who? Did you take your medicine?” Yuri nagged like a mother sometimes.

You thought for a long moment whether to reveal the truth but you decided to avoid it in prevention of any questioning that might ensure, “Wow, you are so naggy sometimes you know. I’m just meeting someone I know and yes ma’am I took my medicine, except that one painkiller that makes me really drowsy, I'll take that at night when I'm back alright?”

Yuri throws a towel at you for calling her naggy and told you to hurry and get out of her sight.

---

Thirty minutes to seven.

Jungkook suddenly gets a call from Kijin; something must be up with Yeonjoo for him to be calling Jungkook out of the blue.

“Hyung, what’s up? It's rare that you are calling me directly” Jungkook answered the call.

“Jungkook-ah... I really didn’t want to bother you but could you come over... she wouldn’t come out or talk to anyone since last night.”

---

Ten minutes to seven

Jungkook stares at his watch, just as he took out his phone to type a message to you Kijin opens the door at Yeonjoo’s apartment and he rushes in.

The door to Yeonjoo’s bedroom was shut tight. On the way here he was on the phone with Kijin the whole time and he explained hwo Yeonjoo had been receiving letters and calls from her longtime stalker.

“Is that... from that bastard?” Jungkook looked warily at a paper box placed in one corner of the living room.

“Ya... I’m handing it over to the police later... it’s pretty gross inside I don’t think you should go near it” Kijin warned.

“Why is he back? I thought he went quiet for a while...” Jungkook asked with a deep unhappiness.

“Not sure, I think he’s been sending Yeonjoo some messages but she won’t speak to me now” Kijin answered with matching concern.

Jungkook headed straight for Yeonjoo’s room. He carefully knocks on the door; there was no answer.

“It’s me... are you inside? Can you open the door?”

He was met with an eerie silence.

“Hyung... should we just go in?” Jungkook whispered to Kijin, his face fraught with worry.

“I think we have little choice now...” Kijing handed over a key to Jungkook.

The door creaked open slowly. Jungkook peered into the room that was pitch black. A narrow ray of light shone into the room from the opened door and he finally sees the silhouette of Yeonjoo crouched on the floor near the foot of the bedframe.

He ran over anxiously, “Are you alright? Why didn’t you answer us?”

Her hands scrunched the blanket that she had pulled over her legs. She was staring soullessly ahead but slowly turned to look at Jungkook.

“He’s back. I'm scared” she uttered.

“I know, Kijin hyung is reporting it to the police now” Jungkook whispers back.

“I’m tired, but I don’t dare to close my eyes” she whimpers.

“I’m here... I'll be here” Jungkook sat down next to her and she couldn’t help but lean against him.

---

Five minutes past seven.

You stood at the sidewalk leading to the elegantly-furnished entrance of the restaurant. Unintentionally you looked around whenever you heard any sound of someone walking by. You had messaged Jungkook to ask if he was reaching but there was no reply.

You did not even know whose name the reservation was under so you felt better waiting for him to outside. Time went by as you counted the number of times a car turned in but it wasn’t his car.

The night grew colder as the time went by. Eventually, you took a look at your watch.

Ten minutes to 8pm – you decided to give Jungkook a call. The call went unanswered and you were not that surprised but now you became slightly worried.

You made another call, this time to Sejoon.

“Eo.. Y/N...” Sejoon picked up the call and sounded out of breath.

“Hi Sejoon, are you ok?” you asked out of concern.

“Yah yah I’m fine, just ran out to grab some thing for Yoongi and Hobi who are having a schedule now... do you need something?” Sejoon asked you back.

“Uh... actually I am wondering if you know where Jungkook is now...” you started slowly, not sure how much to reveal about your plans with Jungkook.

“Jungkook? He’s not with you? I thought he told me he would be having dinner with you today,” answered Sejoon.

So, it is not much of a secret then. “Ah yes, he’s supposed to meet me for dinner but it’s almost past an hour and he’s not here, I tried calling him but couldn’t get him either,” you explained.

“What? Ok, he does tend to be late... but not this late... are you still waiting there?” Sejoon exuded his usual friendliness.

“Yah, I’m kinda still waiting,” you replied.

“What? I'll try reaching him after I put down these things for Yoongi and Hobi? Let me know if he suddenly shows up,” Sejoon instructed helpfully before you hung up.

---

Fifteen minutes past eight

Two police officers sat in Yeonjoo’s living room collecting as much information as they could from Yeonjoo and Kijin while Jungkook watched them from kitchen. It took him a whole ten minutes to coax Yeonjoo into speaking with the police after they arrived.

Now that he had mostly done his part, he was letting go of the tension he had built up over the past hour and suddenly his stomach let out a low growl.

He thought to himself that he could have been having some fancy steak now. “Right... would be nice to have some steak now... oh shit!” he suddenly jolted up and looked all over for his phone.

---

Your phone suddenly pinged – a message came in.

“Hey Y/N, I’m so sorry, there was an emergency, I didn’t check my phone until now... you aren’t still waiting right? I hope you already ordered something... don’t wait for me,” the message read.

The cocktail of feelings left a bittersweet aftertaste. You were still trying to decipher what exactly it was. Was it worry? Was it annoyance? Was it disappointment?

Then your phone rings. It was Sejoon.

“Hello? Y/N? Have you left yet?” Sejoon shouted through the noisy background noises on his end.

“Hey Sejoon, umm, yeah I got a text from Jungkook so I’m leaving now...” you muttered, trying to mask that bittersweet aftertaste

“Oh he texted you? Great, did you already grab dinner? Do you need me to come down and settle the bill for you?” Sejoon enquired on 80% volume.

“Uh no no don’t worry about me, I’m gonna go grab dinner when I get home...” you quickly cut in, “... but do you know what happened to him? He just said there’s an emergency... is he ok?”

“Jungkook? Oh he’s at Yeonjoo’s place apparently. Kijin hyung messaged me just a while ago to give me the heads up,” Sejoon explained as you hear someone calling out his name on the other end, “I gotta go! You can text me if you need anything!”

You hardly ever needed anything from anyone. You hardly believed that you deserved to need anything from anyone. And today was no different.

Did he need to do this for you? No.

Did you need him to keep his promise? No.

Yet you stared down at the pavement clearly tasting bitterness this time. Of all the reasons, why did it have to be Yeonjoo?

One of the staff at the restaurant must have observed you standing outside their door for the longest time.

“Hi Miss, uhh... it’s rather cold out here... are you waiting for someone? Do you want to come in?” he offered kindly.

there was a melancholic pause. “I was waiting for someone...” you replied with a wistful smile, “but not anymore, thank you.”

195 notes · View notes

cherry-ber · 4 years ago

Text

“You notice how wine makes people wanna feel, like sexy?”

Pairing: idol! Mark Lee x female reader

Plot: Lonesome creeps into everyone's mind, even those who seem to have it all.

Genre: fluff mostly, angst.

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, extremely painful for me to write this since I feel lonely idk if that triggers you too.

A.N: inspired by the first draft of too drunk to fuck and my bff's dependence of wine to exist 😳 this took me 10 hours to write but it might still be pretty shit. And yeah Clueless some how

After a long, long week of continuous recordings, dance practices, re-recordings and photo sessions, all he wanted to do, was sleep for twenty hours straight. He knew that he was a very lucky man, he was really living the dream. Not everyone was able to do what they loved, with people they genuinely liked, and still get payed for it, but he was. He had always been grateful, he knew the real value of things in real life, and sometimes he felt like he didn't even deserve it.

An insane amount of people knew his name, knew him, and constantly made sure that he knew how appreciated he was, but he couldn’t understand it at all. Sure, he proved himself over and over again how great he could be, and he was proud too, but why did people really loved him? Sometimes it's easy to lose yourself, but lately he was struggling even more, he felt lost and unworthy, he felt guilty, even, because he shouldn't feel this way.

Mark was home alone, after his friends went out to have dinner and drinks. He excused himself out of the reunion saying that he would call his parents and then heading straight to the bed. He wasn't lying at all, he did have a small call with his family, and then went to his room, expecting that he'd fall asleep soon and forget about what he was feeling, he was done with that for today.

He played a movie in his computer, knowing that whatever it was, he wasn't paying attention anyway. He hated to admit it, but he felt like he was missing something, rather, someone. He felt ridiculous, knowing how much people loved him, how many friends he had, but he couldn’t help it, he would be lying if he didn't say he could use a little company. Mark was busy most of the time, which, although tiring, was an escape from his loneliness, it was moments like this where he'd have enough time to sink in this small puddle of angsty feelings, that just grew until it was as big as an ocean. He couldn't explain why he felt so bad, he had enough friends to count on, and even when he considered he was only in need of a physical affect, it turned out to not be the answer, even when he masturbated, when he was finished, those feelings were still there. As the movie went on without him noticing, he turned his head to the side, and imagined someone next to him, wearing his clothes and stealing his blanket. He giggles, imagining cuddling someone to sleep, their heat making him feel home. He finally closes his tired eyes with a smile, hoping his dreams will be sweet and last long.

He wakes up in a bad mood, and doesn't really want to talk to anyone, his older friends notice, and decide to let him be, they know that if something is really wrong, he'll come to them eventually. After a quick shower, he decided he needed some privacy, some time alone, despite being scared of being stuck with himself, and went out on his own, ignoring the texts on the group chat, where everyone wondered where he was going. He had breakfast in a small Cafe, went to a movie matinee, an art gallery, a theater play, and then to a mall to buy himself expensive clothes. He had an okay day, and he grew a little bit of joy, finding himself alone and still almost enjoying his time, but mostly, ignoring his mind when he saw a couple, and wished he could have that too. He enters a restaurant, intending to order something take out for his friends, as an apology for being moody and worrying them. He waits stand up next to the door, with a cup of coffee they offered him, until he suddenly turns around after hearing his order being ready, and ceashes with someone as he does. He spilled his drink over his and their clothes. He starts apologizing, but all he gets as a response is a soft, sweet giggle. He looks to the stranger's face, and is met with a fond smile.

“It's okay, go get your food, I can fix myself”

He's caught off guard, and all he can do is shake his head yes and do as he is told, coming back to them, apologizing again.

“I'm such an idiot, I'm so sorry” he's totally embarrassed, and he feels a blush running through his face.

“It's alright, it wasn't your fault”

The stranger walks inside to take a table, and he rushes out, walking back home. That giggle makes its way to his mind a couple times as he arrives.

After eating, he goes to bed, feeling somehow full with himself, but he doesn't know if it was after forcing himself to like him, or if he was so desperate for someone that a small interaction like that would get him sleepless thinking this person would be his person.

On that same week, he founds himself running into that same stranger everywhere. When he goes get coffee with his friends, when they go to buy groceries, when he heads to the studio, and he wonders if he should be worrying, but decides not to.

Surprisingly, he founds her again, when he is entering a new coffee shop, and she walks her way out. He opens the door for her, and is met with her fond smile again, that grows larger as she recalls his face. She mumbles a sweet 'thank you' and keeps walking. Some courage grows inside Mark, and blurts out whatever his brain was fast enough to say.

“Thanks for not spilling that coffee back” the young lady finds the sentence, although awkward, funny, and turns back to him to reply.

“Maybe I should pay for your coffee, though, you were enjoying it until I crashed into you” Her melodic voice is enough to put Mark in a trance, and loses control of what he's doing, disconnecting from his awkward self.

“Actually it was my fault” he giggles remembering how sweet she was, even after Mark probably just ruined her day “Did you get a horrible stain?”

She walks closer to him, small steps that make his heart beat faster.

“It wasn't horrible, I wouldn't say that, it was just, slightly bad”

“I don't want to be a weirdo, are you busy right now? I could use some chatting, and I really owe your laundry money”

She was never an outgoing person, but she was flattered by his proposal. She was meeting someone, but she figured it wouldn't be important enough to not cancel.

“I would love that, but you owe me nothing” she giggles and walks beside him into an empty table.

“I'm Mark, by the way”

“I know that” she laughs it off, attempting for things not to be awkward “My name is Y/N”

It was only after several months, that Mark found himself, again, over thinking about how lonely he was, and how desperate he was for it to end. Whenever he had the chance, he'd spend time with his new friend, and for some weeks, thats was enough, until he realized that, all she wanted from him, was a friendship. His friends noticed, too, how after a while, that wasn't enough for him, but he was terrified he'd lose her, but they'd often try to help him out in whatever way other men would think was best, teasing her when she was at the dorms, insinuating how cute of a couple they'd be, and shamelessly asking if by any chance, she'd have feelings for him, never really giving away Mark's crush on her, not explicitly at least.

One afternoon, when they were all watching a movie together, when suddenly, Johnny and Taeyong convinced everyone to go out and have dinner, even after Mark suggested they just called the restaurant, because he was too tired to go out.

“Oh” Taeyong said, grabbing his keys and putting on a hat “then you can stay here with Y/N and order something and we can take our time”

The girl was a little disappointed, she loved spending time with the other guys two, but she agreed, knowing that Mark wouldn't want be convinced to leave the couch.

She sees then leave, and turns around to look at her friend, somehow aware of what his friends were trying to do; leave them alone, after last night they discussed Mark should just accept the reject, and confess. The boy asked, pleaded and begged them not to leave them alone, after he opened up about his feelings, but of course, his friends thought they'd know better.

“Can you order pizza while I take a shower?” his attention called back to where he was, as the sweet woman walked into the living room, with a bottle of wine and two cups. Mark chocked in his spit, when the thought of her showering, and how much he'd love to enter the scene, crossed his mind.

“Yeah, sure” he watched her walking away “Do you want some clothes?”

“Well, if I could steal one of your hodies tonight, I wouldn't mind”

He does as he's asked, calling a pizzeria and taking off his hoodie, hoping that she'd appreciate the smell of his cologne, that he wears only when she's coming around.

When she comes out, wearing her jeans and tank top, he throws the sweater at her, she puts it on and sits in the couch next to him, ready to start eating, reaching out for the bottle to serve them a cup after the first bite.

“I don't want to drink that” he'd never been a fan of alcohol, he knew he could use a boost, but he was still afraid of it.

“Huh? Why is that?”

“I don't drink wine” She recalled how he'd often drink with Johnny and her, whenever Johnny wanted to open a bottle, which happened quite often, but decided not to insist, although she did pour a cup for herself.

Mark, and any other men, really, always wondered what could she be thinking about, she was wild, energetic, but calmed and peaceful, she was always kind, but wouldn't hesitate to start a fight if to defend herself or someone else, she was never scared, but she was sensitive and fragile. He couldn't help the sigh that left his body, remembering why he had feelings for her in the first place. He knew how much she'd hate to be in a relationship, they had already discussed it, after some girl confessed to Mark, and she mentioned how relationships to her were useless, since she got all the love she wanted from her friends, and that way, she made sure that all the love she gave was reciprocal. When he told his manager about his feelings, expecting him to give him helpful advice, he just told him to forget about her. “women like her are too complicated, it's not worth it”. He wondered then, how many other guys would think the same, and refused to be one of those.

They were both full, and cuddling in the couch, she was sipping her second cup, when Mark suddenly poured a cup for himself too, and drank it in one large sip. He felt a rush through his body, his face flustered, and a numb sensation in his limbs. He was trying to keep himself still, but the sudden alcohol in his body made him bubbly and the woman next to him realized. The cheesy romcom that was playing on the back made him giggle in every other scene, and with every minute that went by, he felt looser and looser. He served another cup and drank it just as fast as the first one. Soon, he found himself leaning towards the body that sat next to him. Y/N pat her thigh, inviting Mark to rest his head there, which he did, while fidgeting with his fingers.

“You notice how wine makes people wanna feel, like sexy” he lets out in a serious tone.

Giggly, his friend shakes her head no, and places her cup in the table in front of them. “Do you feel like sexy?”

He sits himself back, eyes wide open, same serious expression in his face.

“I guess so?” he laughs at how dumb he must sound “I feel... Jiggly”

Her sweet, loud laugh fills the room, and Mark is proud of himself for making her so happy.

“Love, you should go to sleep already” he feels his face hotter and hotter, and can only imagine how red he must be “you were already tired, I'll clean up and meet you in your room-”

Mark bursts out of his bubble and speaks

“Don't do that” he says softly, as if he was genuinely hurt by her words “Please, don't do that”

Worried, Y/N walks closer to him, “Do what?”

He looks down to his feet, feeling tears forming in his eyeballs, product of his low alcohol tolerance, and his overall emotional state. “Dont call me love. You don't love me”

She reaches for his hands, attempting to make him look straight at her eyes “Of course I love you Mark”

“Not the way I want you to”

She had never been good with other people's feelings, especially romantic feelings, she had a hard time catching indirects.

“In which way is that?” hesitant, Mark stares at her for a couple seconds, before staring at her lips, too numb to do better, he grabes her chin and pulls her closer to him, a sweet, slow kiss surprising her as much as himself. When he pulls away and expects a response of any kind, all she can do is try to look at him.

“Oh, Mark” she finally manages to say “is this the way you feel?” he nods, still nervous but hopeful that she'll feel the same “You're drunk, go to sleep” she turns around as she cleans as quick as she can, as mark makes his way to his room, or to the first room he sees open.

Before the other men living in the dorms arrive and ask questions that she doesn't want to answer, she leaves, leaving a post it note in the fridge for Mark”

“Drink water and have a painkiller,

I had to go home. Thanks for the wine

-Y/N”

Too many weeks after, Mark calls her phone one more time before he enters the dorms, wondering if he had really done the worst thing in the world, for her to ghost him like that. He let a tired sigh out, grateful that he was home alone again. He goes to his room, ready to sleep for as long as he can, but when he opens the door, the lights are on, and in his bed sits what could be only described as an angel, beautiful as always, smiling and kind Y/N, with a cup of wine in her delicate hands, and another one on his nightstand, that she offers him as he's taking off his shoes and sweater.

With pain and regret in her eyes, as he's taking the first sip, she attempts to break the silence. “You ever notice how wine makes people feel sexy?”

181 notes · View notes

thatgoblin · 4 years ago

Text

Small Town Affairs

Summary: Hazel is an Omega in the small town of Tin Springs, Midwest America. She's trying to live her life after breaking up with the local sheriff, John Walker, and his mate, Brock Rumlow. New people aren't something that happens often, but when a new pack comes to town her whole life goes from a small mess to a complete disaster in the best way.

Warnings: Domestic Violence, Assault, Sexual abuse, Himbo Bucky, Misogyny, will update as story goes.

Chapter 1

It wasn’t often that people moved to Tin Springs, population 803. We barely had enough people to need a high school and a junior high school let alone more than a general store and gas station. There wasn’t even a Walmart for nearly 20 miles. You had to make a special trip to the larger town of Conway that had fast food restaurants and strip malls while the closest we had was a Dollar General and a ‘home style’ restaurant that was closed after 9. We did have a few bars and a strip joint, but those were just outside of town. Far enough that most people didn’t count them as being a part of town. It was very much a dying breed of Mayberry towns that used to thrive till people moved for better jobs and schools or to just get out of that small town headspace.

So when what looked like a whole fleet of moving trucks drove down the main road, everyone was talking. Turns out there was some guy with the last name Rogers that owned land that belonged to his pack that he was moving his new pack onto. The family had basically moved away or died off by the time I was 18. Most of the townspeople thought the houses on the land would stay empty till someone bought the land up for farming or to build new houses on. No one ever did and the moving trucks were telling us why it wouldn’t happen. Everyone and their dog would be gossiping and talking about who the new people were, where they came from, why they came back now, but I just ignored the whispers and gossip as I checked out folks at the general store.

“Hazel, would you be a dear and stock the shelves before you leave tonight?” The store owner, Peggy Carter, asked from her office. It sat just to the side of the register, making it easy to keep an eye on things. Her prim English accent was very much out of place in the small midwest town, but it wasn’t as crisp as it used to be when she first moved to Tin Springs.

“Sure. I’ve got my keys so I’ll lock up for you too,” I said, glancing back at her before the bell above the door rang. “Howdy,” I greeted the customers before going back to tidying my area. They were just a couple of women that were grabbing last minute items for dinner, which was the usual crowd so close to our closing time. I knew their faces, but couldn’t recall their names. I’d seen them around town, but I didn’t exactly interact with people outside of my job.

“Did you see the paper today? John Walker’s up for re-election again,” one woman said as they meandered towards the dairy section. While they sort of tried to stay quiet, the store was empty at that time of day and with it being so small that the voices carried easily.

“I saw that. He’s got my vote for sure,” the other woman said. “You know, he’s been such a good sheriff and I don’t think anyone’s running against him. It should be an easy win for him.”

“Hopefully. Things are just fine as they are now, why change them?” The first woman said. “Though, it is a bit odd that he’s with another Alpha and not an Omega.”

“I know, but Brock’s a good man. Both of them are. It’s just too bad things didn’t work out with them and that Omega girl.”

I should be used to it by now, hearing people talking about me and my exs. When you date the county sheriff and the only garage owner in town, things aren’t exactly secret. Even if they didn’t know your name or face, they knew your business.

“You know, John always said she was a good gal, but just had some problems. His mother and I play bridge at the church on Wednesday evenings and she told me that he was heartbroken over their split up. Him and Brock adored her, said they wanted to have kids too. I do hope she’s getting herself straightened out,” the second woman said.

I could handle the whispers and looks I’d get from the older Omegas in town, but this was a new low. They weren’t even trying to keep it quiet anymore.

“Just so ya’ll know, we’re closing soon, so if you’ve got some trash talking to do, do it outside where I don’t have to listen to it,” I called, earning small gasps from the women. They hurried to the front to check out, keeping their eyes down as I glared at them. If they were dumb enough to talk about me in front of me, I was not going to go easy on them. They didn’t say another word as they left, leaving me behind to glare at their backs.

“You should learn to ignore them. People will always talk,” Peggy said from the office.

“The least they could do was be discreet about it,” I mumbled. “Besides, it’s already been over a year and you’d think people would let it go and move on.”

“Well, with the new people moving in, you might get your wish,” she said. I could only hope.

The rest of the evening went by pleasantly fast. Peggy left me in charge to stock the shelves after closing. We closed usually at about 8:00 PM, no one showed up after 7:45 PM on a regular day. So to hear the door jostle as someone tried to open at 8:10 PM was odd. Frowning, I put down the pasta to look over the aisle to see a man trying to peer in. He had dirty blond hair styled back into a faux hawk of sorts, and dressed in ripped skinny jeans and a tight black tee. There were a few cuts on his face, a bandaid over his nose, and what looked like hearing aids hooks around his ears, the man stood out like a sore thumb compared to the locals. Seeing me, he put on a big smile and waved.

My first instinct was to ignore him, but since he didn’t look familiar I figured he was one of the new people in town. They wouldn’t know the hours of any of the stores in town. I decided to at least let him know the store was closed. If anything happened I had a bat under my register and pepper spray on my keys in my pocket. Going to the front, I unlocked the door before opening it.

“Hey, sorry, we’re closed,” I said as the muggy summer air came rushing in. “We close at 8.”

“Damn it,” the man hissed as he pulled out a cell phone. “Is there any other place to get groceries around here? My pack and I just moved to town and we don’t have any groceries. We’ve been working all day to get stuff into the house and didn’t realize the time.”

“Oh, uh not really, sorry,” I said. “Dollar General closes at the same time and you’d have to go to the next town over for Walmart and that’s 20 miles away.”

“What time do you guys open in the morning?” He asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“We open at 6:00 AM.” The way he looked when I told him was like witnessing a puppy being kicked. I could smell him, he was just an Omega. What harm could it do to let him in this once? Peggy had let a few people in here and there after hours, so what was one more? “Okay, so you can’t tell anyone or you’ll get me in trouble, but I can go ahead and let you in to shop. I’m just restocking shelves, so go ahead and get what you need.” Stepping aside, I let him in before locking the door behind him to keep anyone else out.

“Thank you so, so much. You’re a lifesaver, really,” he said as he grabbed a cart and proceeded to grab things off the shelf. I didn’t mind staying late, rent was going up and it was getting harder to pay, so a bit of extra time wouldn’t hurt. “I’m Clint by the way.”

“Hazel,” I replied as I went back to the shelves. Letting him fill his cart, I finished up my work before meeting him at the register. It was a lot of food, but then again how many moving trucks had showed up? “I really hope this isn’t just for you.”

“Naw, there’s 8 people in my pack. I’m hoping this will be good enough for at least dinner and breakfast, but there’s a few of us who can eat out a whole house,” Clint said with a chuckle as I scanned the items.

“Wow, that’s a lot. We don’t really have any packs at all around here. Maybe a handful, but it’s just three people at most,” I said.

“Oh yeah? We just moved here from New York. One of our Beta’s, Steve, used to live here. You might know him,” Clint said.

“Last name Rogers?” I asked, getting a nod. “Not personally. I know of the family and the land, but that’s about it,” I said with a shrug. “Alright, and total for today is $234.89.”

“Yup, sounds about right,” Clint said with a chuckle as he swiped a credit card. What did they do in New York that allowed them to buy that many groceries? Not to mention that was just for one night, I couldn’t imagine a full week’s worth. Maybe they should go to Walmart for groceries next time. “So is there anything fun to do around here?” He asked as I handed him the longest receipt I’d printed before.

“Eh. Depends on what you want to do. We have a restaurant that closes at 9:00 PM, a few bars around here, and a strip joint, but other than that there’s not much to be done unless you’re a fan of high school sports,” I said with a shrug.

“I’m going to have to give Steve a slap upside the head for bringing us to the most boring place in the world,” he sighed before looking at me wide eyed. “I mean, it’s just that it’s kinda slow compared to New York.”

“Don’t worry. I think it’s boring too, but like most of the folks that live here, it’s cheaper to stay than to move if you don’t have another job or family else where,” I said. “Sometimes the rodeo comes to the next town over and a lot of people go there.”

“Yeah, when he said this was a completely different place, I didn’t think he understood how all of us would find it so different,” Clint said as he started to load up the grocery cart.

“Here, let me help you take those out to your car. I’ll get the cart from you and you can head out,” I said, grabbing the keys to unlock the front door to let us out then relocked it.

“Thanks. You know, I guess small towns do have a lot of nice people willing to help out,” Clint said as he led the way to a black sports car.

“Sheesh, fancy,” I snorted as he popped the trunk.

“Yeah, it was a pain to drive it down the dirt driveway I have with my mate. I don’t want to part with her, but I also don’t want to ruin the undercarriage,” he said with a wince.

“That’s a bummer. There’s a car lot in town here, but I don’t know if they’d have anything your style,” I said, handing him a paper bag full of cereal.

“Howard, my mate, would shit his pants if I tried to go there,” Clint said with a chuckle. “He’s too posh to even think of buying anything pre-used. I’m pretty sure he’d have a heart attack.”

“Sounds like he’ll get comfortable real quick,” I said with a snort.

As we were finishing up putting the groceries in the car, there was a short honk and siren bwep before a sheriff’s car pulled into the spot next to Clint’s.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Clint frowned, unsure of what was happening, but I knew.

“Howdy friend!” A familiar voice called as a blond man with bright blue eyes and an irritating smile stepped from the patrol car. Dressed in his brown and khaki uniform, Sheriff John Walker approached us. “You must be part of the pack that just moved to town.”

“Uh, yeah. Just got in today,” Clint said, shifting his body again. “I’m Clint.”

“Pleased to meet you, I’m Sheriff Walker. Figured that since I saw you in town, I’d catch you real quick for an introduction,” the man said, holding out his hand for Clint to shake. Raising a brow, Clint shook the officer’s hand.

“Nice to meet you. You’ll probably be seeing the rest of my pack throughout the week,” Clint said before closing the trunk of his car.

“You’re on the Rogers property, yeah?” John asked, resting his hands on his hips.

“That’s the one,” Clint said with a nod.

“I think I went to school with one of the Rogers’ pack. Steve, I believe his name was. He was a grade above me. His family stayed in town a while before leaving. Didn’t think we’d see anyone come back to live on the property,” John said. I wanted to get away from this conversation as fast as possible. John hadn’t even addressed me, let alone acknowledge my existence. The last thing I wanted was for him to start shit with me in front of someone.

“Probably, I mean, he’ll be in town tomorrow to get all the paperwork fixed up with his mate,” Clint said. “But I should be going. We’ve been driving all day and everyone’s tired and hungry.”

“Alright, I’ll let you go,” John said with a nod, backing up to let Clint move. I kept quiet, trying to not look John in the eye as I moved the cart back to the sidewalk. “Have a nice evening, now,” he said, typing his broad brimmed hat to Clint.

“Thanks. See you around, Hazel,” Clint said to me with a tight smile and wave. I gave a short wave back before booking it back to the store.

Don’t follow me, don’t follow me, don’t follow me.

“Hazel, wait up,” John called as he jogged to catch up with me. I wanted to scream as I stopped at the front door to unlock it. “So, you’re talking to the new people now, huh?” He said as Clint pulled out and drove away.

“John, go away. It’s none of your business and this is not part of the agreement,” I hissed, getting the door open. Shoving the cart in front of me, I tried to shut the door in his face, but he’d stuck his boot in the way.

“Look, I’m just trying to keep an eye out for you, okay? Don’t get cozy with the new people. They might be interesting, but you never know what people are really like,” he said, pushing his way into the store.

“Ironic coming from you,” I snapped, glaring at him as I moved to the register. “I’m trying to close, leave.”

“Remember what I said,” John sighed. “Don’t trust those new people.”

“I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you and we both know it’s not far,” I snarled. “Now go away or I’ll short Brock this week.”

“Fine,” he said. “But just remember, I was the one that always looked after you. Even after everyone started those rumors about you, I stuck by you.”

“A lot of good it did me. Now go.”

John looked like he might say something else, but stopped himself. Instead, he shook his head before leaving the store. Quickly, I locked the door after him. Standing there, my hands shook as tears pricked my eyes. The asshole could always get under my skin. Just a damn look and I’d be nearly in tears. As much as I wanted to believe I was stronger now and could handle myself, that small interaction showed me that he still had a grip on my life.

Finished for the night, I headed home. There were no more encounters with anyone else thankfully, allowing me to relax for the night with a beer on my porch. My house wasn’t much, a one story two bedroom house that had a less than stellar paint job, but it was home. It was old, from the 20’s, but it was sturdy. I wasn’t there much but to eat, sleep, and shower anyways.

Sitting on the porch, one beer turned into two which turned into three. It was the fourth one that I finally felt like I could stop shaking completely. The last time I had seen John and talked to him was nearly a month ago. We’d been separated for almost a year and he was being his usual passive aggressive self just to push my boundaries. He’d come into the store and made a show of talking to me like I was a kid, letting everyone see he was the calm, collected Alpha that was trying to reach out with an olive branch to fix things between the unstable Omega who just needed some gentle handling to become a decent person.

I had nearly come unglued on him, but managed to keep my voice low and my eyes down. Peggy found me right after, sobbing out behind the store. No one, not even Peggy, knew what really happened between all three of us, but I wasn’t about to tell them and neither were John and Brock. We’d come to an agreement that they would leave me alone and not talk to me unless absolutely necessary and I’d stay quiet. As well as paying them off. It was nearly half of both my paychecks, but it was worth it if it meant they didn’t come into the store when I was there or tried to talk to me at all.

But John was starting to toe the line and push back. Brock kept his part of the deal, I was pretty sure he never really cared for me, but John was always obsessive. The deal was going to have to be revisited if John didn’t back off.

Done for the night, I tossed the bottles before heading to bed.

The last few days of the work week were about the same. Go to work, come home, go to work, come home. I saw Clint now and then who came in to grab a few things here and there, but that was it. He was nice and despite John wanting to tell me who I could and couldn’t see, it felt better to know that there was someone in town who didn’t know things about me without my permission.

While we weren’t best friends, we did send memes to each other when I was on break and he wasn’t busy. At one point he messaged me a picture of his shed full of cobwebs and wasp nests and asked if it was appropriate to burn it to the ground. I told him to be careful because there could be copperheads underneath or groundhogs. That led into me explaining what those were and learning that the man had lived 37 years thinking a groundhog was something made up by a city for a holiday and it was really just a beaver they were using.

It seemed that I would be teaching him, and probably his pack vicariously, what to look out for in their new homes. I still hadn’t met the rest of the pack, though I had seen one or two here and there around town.

Soon Friday rolled around. I woke up at about 4:30 AM. Friday would be busier than usual as it was a payday. I showered then dressed, sliding on jeans and a long sleeved shirt, I then made a pot of coffee before doing my makeup. Just enough to hide the bags under my eyes and a few marks on my neck that were visible above my shirt collar.

It was my regular dress for my job at the store, Peggy didn’t care too much so long as it wasn’t offensive. Which meant anything but plain clothing and no writing. After coffee, I fixed my hair so it didn’t frizz then grabbed my thermos of coffee. I locked up then headed to work.

The sun was peeking above the trees and clouds as I pulled into work around 5:15 AM. Peggy was already there when I walked in the back.

“Did you have any problems closing the other night? I forgot to ask,” She said as I stepped into the office to get my cash drawer for the day.

“It was fine. Had one of the new people stop in, Clint. The blond that comes by for snacks. He’d made it in just after we closed, but I went ahead and let him shop since they didn’t have anything at their houses,” I said, taking the drawer from the open safe.

“Houses? You mean they’re not all in one?” She asked, looking up from her book keeping.

“There’s not a big enough house for more than four people on their property. There’s like ten of them,” I said with a snort.

“Well I’m sure we’ll meet all of them at some point. We’re the only grocery store in town,” she said.

“Unless they need to buy in bulk. Clint nearly bought everything in the store,” I said, counting my drawer at the register.

“We can only hope. Next time you see them, let them know if they need more than a few things to get us a list and we’ll get them large amounts. We used to do that a lot when there were bigger packs in my hometown,” Peggy said. The woman was nearly 60 and had lived in England up until about 30 years ago, getting the general store from her uncle who had passed away. I was used to hearing the facts of ‘We used to do this in my hometown’ a lot.

“Will do.”

Finished with setting up, I unlocked the front door and turned on the rest of the lights at 6:00 AM. The usual rush of moms right after school starts as well as early rising elderly came in, making for the usual busy rush that Peggy would step in and help with at the second register. By the time 10:00 AM rolled around, things were tapering off. We’d have a lunch rush for those grabbing a quick something, then back to a nice slowness.

“I’m gonna take my break after this last person checks out,” I said to Peggy who nodded. I was starting to get hungry and I saw a bearclaw in the donut rack that had my name on it. A few cups of coffee could only hold me over for so long before I needed actual food.

Before I could clock out for a break though, two people walked into the otherwise empty store. They were part of the new pack, just the scent alone said that, and they were Alphas. Great.

“I got this if you want,” Peggy said softly as she caught the scent too. Peggy was a sweet Beta and she acted as a stand-in grandma for me, but I couldn’t just run at every Alpha that came in.

“I’m good,” I said, giving her a small wave and smile. It wasn’t long before the Alphas came to the register. One was taller, probably over 6’, with steely blue eyes and dark, earthy brown hair with a scruff on his face. He smelt of fresh rain and peaches with that Alpha musk. Dressed in an almost too tight tee with an extra sleeve and glove covering his left arm and hand, he looked out of place in the button up work shirts and plaid that was usually worn by the adult men around town.

The other was shorter, more tailored. His light brown hair had a bit of copper to it as it was swept back from his face as that held a neatly trimmed beard. His dark eyes stayed on the phone in his hand. He too was in a tee and jeans that were fitted tighter, making them look. . . Well almost foreign. A whiff of cedar and maybe smoke or tobacco swirled into the first Alpha’s scent. Both of them mingling and making something settle deep inside my belly.

Fuck.

“Is that all for you two?” I asked, holding back with every fiber of my being any scent or sign of them making me feel like a simple, needy Omega.

“That’ll be it,” the first Alpha said. It was standard groceries of meat, cheese, dried goods, condiments, basically anything to stock up a house after moving.

“Is your pack settling in okay? Clint comes by now and then,” I said, trying to make small talk. Usually I didn’t, but something about those two had me anxious. Not a bad anxious, but. . . I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“Oh, uh yeah. We’re getting there,” he said with a nod. “It’s different than what we’re used to.”

“What are ya’ll used to?” I asked, looking from one to the other.

“A lot more people and a lot less trees,” the second Alpha spoke up, his voice lilting into an accent I couldn’t place. “But it is lovely here. I quite like how peaceful it is without masses of people a hair’s breadth away.”

“Glad you like it,” I said, giving him a soft smile. “So are all of you from New York too?”

“A few of us, but not all,” the first Alpha said as he pulled out his wallet.

“Well, hopefully it doesn’t take you long to settle in. Today’s total is $87.56,” I said, tapping a few buttons on my keypad.

“Tell me, is there a nursery around? For plants that is,” the second Alpha asked, leaning onto the counter when I started to help pack up the groceries into the cart. “I am wanting to start a flower garden, but would like to see where the supplies are first.”

“A plant nursery? Um, there is one just west of the town. Just take the main road and it’s about ten minutes from town. It’s run by the Mennonites and they have a bunch of different plants to pick from. They’ve even got starter trees for fruits and some bushes for blackberries and the like,” I said.

“Thank you. I appreciate the information,” he said with a soft smile and a nod. I couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“You’re welcome, if any of your pack needs anything just ask around. We’re all pretty friendly here,” I said as I finished putting the bags in the cart.

“I will keep that in mind,” he said, moving over to the cart to hold out his hand to me. “I am Helmut. It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m Hazel. It’s nice to meet you both,” I said, taking his hand. It was warm and soft, different than the work roughened hands I was used to. Helmut rolled his eyes at the other, elbowing him.

“Hey,” he grumbled, shooting him a glare. “Oh, uh, I’m Bucky.” A quick wave and awkward smile was all I was given as he quickly moved to push the cart away.

“He’s house broken, I swear,” Helmut said with a wink. I couldn’t help the honest to God giggle that came out of me. “Have a good day, Hazel,” Helmut said, smiling as he shook his head at Bucky.

“You too,” I called after as they left. It didn’t even occur to me that I was staring after them till Peggy came up next to me.

“You could always ask for a photograph. It would last longer,” she said with hum.

“Oh shush,” I said, waving her off. “They were just, ya know, nice. Most Alphas around here are curt and so loud and demanding. It’s a nice change to see is all.”

“Uh huh. Even if you weren’t letting them get a scent of you, you were definitely giving them eyes. I’ve never seen you do that for anyone. Not even when you were with ‘Those-Who-Shan’t-Be-Named.’ I think it’s cute and wonderful that you had that reaction,” Peggy said as she went to the other register so I could take a break. “Besides, when’s the last time you actually touched someone on purpose?”

“It’s nothing, I’m just being nice to new people is all,” I said, locking my register computer after clocking out for a break. Quickly, I grabbed the bearclaw before leaving the dollar and change for Peggy. “It was just a handshake. Besides, you always tell me to work on my customer service skills,” I said as I walked to the back door.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” She called after me.

#john walker/oc #brock rumlow/oc #john walker/brock rumlow/oc #bucky barnes #john walker #brock rumlow #bucky barnes/helmut zemo #bucky barnes/oc #helmut zemo/oc #zemo/oc #bucky/zemo #bucky barnes/helmut zemo/oc #bucky/zemo/oc #a/b/o #marvel #fanfiction

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gleekto · 4 years ago

Text

Fic: Unsolicited Advice (11/?)

Summary: Blaine and Kurt are 22 and living in New York City. Blaine is in a stale relationship. Kurt likes to have his bachelor fun. They haven’t met yet.

Just your standard coffee shop meet cute…but in a drugstore, in the condom aisle.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

Unsolicited Advice - Part 11 - Knit (Blaine POV)

Blaine gives himself a final once over - tightest white henley short sleeved shirt he owns, perfectly tailored dark blue jeans with cuffs, red shoes for flare. No bowtie - tonight he can breathe. One last thing before he exits the house. He takes out his phone.

Blaine: Are you going to Vibe tonight?

It feels like way too long waiting by the door as the three dots on his phone appear and disappear and then appear again.

Kurt: I am.

Blaine: I’ll be there.

When Blaine walks in the door at 9pm, he finds Kurt where he was the last time - at the bar, with a Sea Breeze, talking to the bartender. Joe, he thinks Kurt said his name was. The bartender sees Blaine making his way over before Kurt does and he gestures, looking at Kurt with a knowing nod. Kurt turns on his barstool and waves him over.

“Hi,” Blaine says as he pulls up on the stool beside him.

“Hi,” Kurt smiles. He looks happy to see him.

“We broke up.” Blaine’s voice cracks slightly as he says it but he also smiles. He is definitely happy to see Kurt. “Just yesterday.”

“Broke up? What - really?” Kurt is surprised even if Blaine isn’t. He looks at him with concern. “Do you want to go somewhere else - and talk or eat cheesecake or something?” They are friends which makes Blaine feel warm. And also he hopes that won’t change. He and his condom-advice giving stranger in the night. They’re at this place.

“And spoil your fun Saturday evening?”

“I’m not missing anything,” Kurt shrugs, seemingly ready to pay his tab and scoot.

“No seriously. I wanted to come here. This break up should have happened months ago.” Blaine pauses and looks at Kurt trying to convey his sincerity. “I’m okay. Honestly. I just want to have a night out. Everything I haven’t been doing for way too long,” Blaine says meaningfully and Kurt looks at him skeptically. “You can buy me a drink?”

Kurt still looks uncertain but nods. “Done. Gin and tonic like last week?”

Blaine shakes his head, “Something more fun.”

...

Is it weird for him to feel so giddy after a break up? The last few months of his relationship had been boring, and the last few weeks frustrating. He’s sure that Stephen was feeling it too - Their reluctance to inhabit each other’s worlds, the snippy fights. But they kept falling back into their routine with a text of ‘Wanna grab dinner tonight?’ or “Movie at my place?” The last few times they had just watched a movie and Blaine wouldn’t even stay over, making excuses about an early class or late night studying or something or other. Surprisingly it was Sam, Blaine’s roommate, who unintentionally gave the final push. - “Blaine, I know this is unsolicited advice, but don’t you think it’s time to end this thing?”

The minute the words were out, Blaine could hear himself exhale. It was like permission. “Yes.” There was no hesitation. “We haven’t been connected for months. And lately we’ve been getting on each other’s nerves.”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded as if it was obvious. “That and the fact that you can’t stop talking about that random guy from the drugstore.”

“Kurt? No,” Blaine shakes his head dismissively. “What do you-” So maybe Blaine had mentioned him once or twice. He had to make sure Sam knew how lucky he was that he was getting a home cooked breaded chicken dinner - even the guy in the grocery store had remarked. And of course it was newsworthy that they ran into each other again. And that Kurt was in theatre too. And from Ohio. Maybe Sam had a point.

Time for Blaine to face the music.

They met for coffee at the generic Starbucks near campus. Not their usual place. Not at their usual time. They each had a class in fifteen minutes. When Blaine walked in and saw Stephen’s knitted brow, he knew that Stephen knew. When it was over, they hugged only slightly awkwardly and Blaine stepped outside. The cold December air splashed his face. It was over.

...

“For fun I recommend Sex in the Driveway?” Blaine’s eyebrows rise in amusement. “Peach schnapps, sprite, various other fruity delicacies.”

“I could never say no to Sex in the Driveway.” He loves that Kurt is still flirting. Loves that he can flirt back. “Sounds perfect.”

Kurt hands him his drink and raises his own glass. “To friendship,” Kurt says cautiously, but sincerely.

“To new beginnings,” Blaine says instead, and looks Kurt directly in the eyes as he clinks their glasses together.

#klaine advent 2020 #klaine advent: knit #gleekto writes #unsolicited advice

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pompadourpink · 4 years ago

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hey mom can you educate me about money pls

Hey kid,

Very broad topic but here are a few ideas:

(Disclaimer: this is written by a European with free healthcare who never had to worry about credit score or student loans)

#1. Have a second bank account and transfer money there monthly:

It doesn’t have to be a huge amount, but make it one you won’t miss. No need to aim for 400€ if you have to transfer some of it back to pay bills.

Aim for twelve months worth of rent + bills + any monthly expense (pet food, therapist, gym, etc.): that is going to be your emergency money; medical, if you get sick, material, if something breaks, professional, if you lose your job. No “Oh I don’t have enough on Account #1 to pay for my Uber Eats delivery”.

Make sure you don’t pay more than you should: there are ways to lower your monthly charges; I recently halved my phone bill by sacrificing unlimited calls and 50 GB of data I didn’t need.

#2. Unless you’re in a place temporarily or a traveller at heart, invest in what you buy. Don’t purchase the same 10€ pair of H&M trainers over and over again: get a good sturdy pair of shoes that will be in your closet in fifteen years instead (and avoid trends, of course); then, take good care of them and go to the cobbler/tailor/etc. when needed. That logic works for:

anything that separates you from the ground (bed, car, etc.)

anything that you need regularly (fan, pans, hairdryer, etc.).

You don’t want that super useful thing to die after three weeks and 1/ having to buy it again, ergo spend more money and 2/ wait until it comes, i.e. be in a complicated situation in the meantime. Instead of buying Shitty Object A for 15€ and then Shitty Object B for 20 and hope for the best, make it a 50 now (after you researched its durability through customers reviews, of course).

Planned obsolescence is a real thing. My dad has a radio he bought in the seventies - it looks awful, but still works perfectly. If it were to fall on my foot, I would be the one getting damaged.

#3. Think about your long-term goals. Let’s say you want to buy a house or have four children: is it preferable to have dinner at a fancy restaurant with the girls tonight or invite them over and cook? You’ll enjoy food for twenty minutes and a house for a lifetime.

A friend of mine is currently dating a loaded guy and complained that, when grocery shopping together, he nitpicks and only wants to buy food that's on sale, whereas she doesn’t mind paying three extra pounds for fresh strawberries. But then, she concluded, that’s how he owns three apartments. Priorities!

Other little things:

Don’t fall into the trap of consumerism. No, you don’t need those shoes (you want them!); no, don’t buy gems for a game when you could wait three hours; no, secondhand things don’t look or smell bad. Death to retail therapy, see a doctor!

IF YOU CAN’T AFFORD IT TWICE, YOU CAN’T AFFORD IT.

Avoid as much as possible borrowing money from the bank, especially for something non-essential, as with debt comes interest; it can also put you in a bad position if you pass your deadline or need an urgent second loan for an actual emergency. Banks aren’t the Salvation Army.

Also, very specific but: hide 50€ somewhere in your house and 20 somewhere at work or at school. If something ever happens to your bank card, that will keep you out of trouble and hunger.

Don’t tell people how much you earn/saved. It’s a trap.

Between your well-being and money, choose yourself. If you are in an abusive relationship, leave; if you need medical help, go; you’ll always find a way to make things right later.

Love,

Mum

#ask #malks

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fabricated-misslieness · 4 years ago

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Thanks for answering my previous request! Can you do some fluff domestic headcanon for reaper , mccree , genji and soldier 76? also you dont have to but if you want you can add that reader is a childfree? (and im really enjoying your blog 👍)

Genji, McCree, Reaper, and Soldier x gender neutral reader

Thank you for fulfilling my Overwatch craving~

Unlike the other fandoms, I tend to crave Overwatch most for the least amount of time but also most often.

Set post-Overwatch Disbandment, pre-Overwatch Recall.

Requested: Yes

Genji Shimada | Grocery Shopping

(So in terms of the fandom, they’re divided between whether Genji can still taste or not. I’m going with no taste, so thanks to this Great Big Story video)

Grocery shopping with Genji was a mundane task. It was part of the weekly chores ever since you moved in together.

“(y/n), no.” He slapped your hand away as you reached out for a falsely advertised snack.

The good thing about it was that Genji grounded you into reality, thanks to his lack of taste buds. He reminds you not to fall for advertisements and actually pick out vegetables instead of plain avoiding them. Sometimes he called you a child because of your dislike of vegetables.

He’s one to talk, though. He doesn’t like doing chores, even if they’d been integrated into his daily life. He nagged about them sometimes.

“Aww, man. Fine.” You’d pout at him, but he’d grown desensitised by that look by now.

Though, he wasn’t used to doing chores at all, being part of a rich crime family, a crime-fighting organization and all that. Then again, that was no excuse, seeing as they’d been living together for quite a while now.

Anyway, even if he helped you stay on track, he himself would stray off as well. Usually you’d lose him for a few minutes, which gives you the opportunity to sneak in some interestingly advertised items, and return with a couple of containers with new spices or some that you were running low off.

Spices were the only things that Genji could taste now, since you didn’t need taste buds to ‘taste’ them. It’s a little weird at the start to see him eat cereal drowned with stuff like amchur powder or sumac but eventually, you grew accustomed to it.

“Ey, ey, ey, back on track, Genji.” Luckily you’d caught him by the back of the hoodie just in time when his eye caught onto a spice he wanted to try.

Genji rolled his eyes under the mask, but he knew he shouldn’t go off wasting your guys’ money.

Thankfully it was only you two living together, so you didn’t have to buy as much to feed like, a family or something. Kids weren’t really your thing, and neither were they his. Sure they’re… adorable, but that’d seem troublesome. Far too troublesome for any of your childish asses.

If you asked Genji to go grocery shopping or even just go into the Overwatch common area kitchen 6 years ago, he would 100% say no. He was jealous of others, they could eat anything and they could savour them, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t get all that jealous, he’d just be disappointed.

However, he’s grown used to it now. He only just found out about spices the first time you went grocery shopping together.

You made him hold onto the cart with you for good measure, although he was sure to sneak off somewhere else while you weren’t looking. Which he did only a few minutes later.

You wondered if he was a leach kid, then remembered they probably didn’t have those in japan.

When he came back, he luckily only had three containers in hand.

You eyed him up with an accusatory look, you could sense his pout even when you couldn’t see it. “Sorry.” Genji sheepishly said, though he always said that and still continued to do it consistently every trip.

You huffed with feigned anger. You weren’t angry at all, but it was funny to see him shy like that.

“Alright, I’ll strike you a deal.” The feigned anger went away, your cheeky smile took its place.

Genji perked up, he knew what was happening but he played along. “Mhm?”

”Hold my hand and I won’t be angry.”

Genji pretended to think for a while, nodding after a too small amount of time. “Deal.” He took your hand, intertwining your fingers together.

“Now, stick with me.”

Jesse McCree | Laundry

Ever since he came back to his old sweetheart’s farm, he’d been living there with them. He called it his base of operations, but really, it was his home.

He was sad to know that his old folk had passed away while he was gone, but he was glad that you were still there and you hadn’t stopped loving him, even when he’d left with Ashe.

Ever since he came back, you’d lived together.

You had your parents’ farm to uphold, with your old folk still working there too. They welcomed him with open arms and invited him to stay.

Your old folk couldn’t work much though. Both of them still had the determination in them to work but their old bodies forbid them from doing more than 3 hours under the harsh sun. They were happy to have more helping hands.

His ‘base of operations’ needed to be maintained, which prevented him from going out bounty hunting much, but he was fond of domestic life.

Ever since you two were children he wanted a domestic life with you and then Ashe came and swept away his dreams, turning them into other ones.

Since he was still getting used to farm life again, he was given much lighter tasks. Tasks that would be in any other household, specifically households from outside New Mexico. He had to get used to the harsh sun again.

You were resting against the railing of the back porch, admiring the farm as best you could with the sun shining in your eyes.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Jesse hanging up the laundry.

Other places outside of your farm area probably had those fancy laundry machines, but you didn’t. The sun was harsh but it was good for drying your clothes along with herbs.

It looks like he had a lot of clothes left to go.

Should you go help? Your tasks for the afternoon were done, then again you had a lot more to do in a few hours.

Eh, why not? This was the love of your life that you were helping.

“Hey, love.”

He perked up to look at you, still putting up a shirt. “Well hey, darling.”

“Need any help?” You didn’t wait for a response, grabbing a pair of clothespins and a shirt.

“Much appreciated.” Jesse pressed a kiss against your cheek as thanks, going back to his work. You initiated chit chat as you hung up the clothes, giving each other cheek kisses sometimes.

Jesse loved these moments, where he could just be with you in your farm, the farm that he’d visited various times in his childhood, the farm you’ve spent your entire life in. He loved hearing you talk and just, you in general.

Talking with your folk was a hassle, inevitably, in every conversation, they would bring up the ‘children’ talk.

They wanted children to continue in your family legacy, non-blood related or not. They were afraid the farm that had been passed on generation to generation would be surrendered to somebody none of you even knew, just like what happened with Jesse’s family farm.

With no children to inherit the farm and no relatives willing to take it up, it was sold. The new owners weren’t exactly careless with it, but they were adamant on keeping it even with Jesse’s arrival.

Your old folk weren’t comfortable with some stranger in their farm.

The thing was, you didn’t want children, the two of you were already thirty. Jesse was fine with that, but your folk weren’t. Sometimes arguments about children with them reduced you to tears and sobs, but Jesse was always there to comfort you afterwards.

More often than not at dinner you’d be arguing, so he cherished the moments where you seemed to be happy.

“Something on your mind, Jesse?”

You startled him out of his thoughts. “No, it’s just.. I love you.”

You were taken aback from the statement. You knew you loved each other, it wasn’t the first time you’d said it since he came back but you didn’t expect him to say it out of nowhere.

“I love you too.” A fond smile graced your lips, which made you irresistible to kiss for him.

He leaned forward, capturing your lips in a soft and short kiss.

“You sure something ain’t botherin’ you?” You laughed after pulling away.

“Never been better, darlin’.”

Gabriel Reyes | Cooking

Cooking dinner was one of the only things you’d be able to do together. He was always at work, sometimes until the next morning, so it was something you yearned for while he was gone.

Gabriel was a good cook under good instructions. Alone, there was a chance he could burn something but 9/10 times it was fine. Most of the time he’d cook for you as consolation for being gone, but he’d already done that yesterday so you offered to help.

He accepted the offer with a smile, pressing a light kiss to your temple.

Since today he wanted to cook for you, he decided to do the main stuff and have you as his little helper.

Granted, you were a perfectly good cook, but today was consolation.

Every time he asked for a spice, as you reached over to hand it to him, he’d share a short kiss and turn back to the cooking.

It reminded you of those athletic couples that would spot each other while doing sit ups and kiss every time the one on their back got to the top. It was cheesy, mostly cringy, but doing something like it actually felt really sweet.

“Chili powder?” Hands reaching out, a small kiss, back to cooking. It was cute.

Finally, the only thing you had two do was wait. You were having his famous enchiladas tonight, so they were in the oven baking. Usually he would wing the time, which meant checking every few minutes.

According to him, “It is ready when the edges are crispy.”

You trapped him against the counter while you kissed. It was nothing lustful, just sweet kisses. He wouldn’t let you kiss him for more than five minutes, though, since you had to check the oven… party pooper.

“(y/n).” He pulled back, not letting you kiss him again. “Enchiladas.”

You sighed, going to check on it again. All you wanted was his kisses, then again you were hungry too. How did he even know that five minutes had passed every time?

“Still need to cook for longer.” You said, standing back up. He raised an eyebrow at you, giving you a look that basically said, ‘Don’t be lying to me just for more kisses.’

“I promise.” You huffed out a laugh, trapping him against the counter and your lips again.

Gabriel tended to cook more than you two could eat, even when there were only two mouths to feed. Neither of you wanted children, both of you being well over the recommended age for that.

Another five minutes passed and he pulled back again, but this time you went back in.

“(y/n).” He protested between kisses. “You don’t want our--” The next kiss lasted for longer, yet Gabriel wouldn’t pull back. When you pulled back for air, he frowned at you.

You didn’t let it phase you, though. Your cheeky smile got him to smile back. He shook his head at you, pushing you back lightly. “Go check.”

You followed his order, checking the oven.

“They’re not ready.”

“(y/n)...”

“Okay, they’re ready.”

Jack Morrison | Washing Dishes

Usually you’d take turns washing the dishes, along with cooking meals. But today, you decided you should clean the dishes together. Throughout the past week, he’d been caught up with his work, meaning you didn’t see each other much.

On Monday, he’d gotten pretty injured, which got you worried already, but the next day he continued on with his work, even with the injury.

He apologized over dinner, which you cooked alone, he came when you were just finishing with the cooking. The apology was accepted over the promise of spending time together.

Holding onto that promise, you started with the dishes.

He’d soap them up, you’d wash it off and put it on the dish rack. It seemed simple, there were just two of you. You were both well over the age for children and Jack’s work wouldn’t exactly work with having children either, but the fact that neither of you wanted any was another reason.

The cutlery was done, the only thing to clean now was the pot.

You sat and admired him as he cleaned, emphasis on him rather than the cleaning part. He looked beautiful, look past all the scars and the wrinkles and he’s a handsome old man.

You laughed at the name, old man. It dawned on you that you were also old, making you laugh again. Jack perked up at your laughs, raising an eyebrow at you.

“We’re old.” You said, a bashful smile on your face.

“Oh, do I know all about that.” Jack joked. “Wrinkles, white hair…”

You nodded, twirling a strand of your hair. “There.” Jack said, putting the pot on your side of the sink. He moved to leave, but you pulled him back by the wrist.

“Just where do you think you’re going, old man?” You laughed at the small joke.

“I don’t know, to bed? Old men need their sleep. Speaking of old people, you should wrap this up.” Jack leaned against the counter beside you.

You nodded, hastily cleaning the pot and setting it aside to dry.

Instead of moving towards your bedroom, you trapped him against the counter, surprising him. He raised a brow at you.

“We haven’t kissed in a few days.”

Jack let out a small laugh, “If that’s what you want...” He leaned in, capturing your lips with his own.

The kiss was short, fulfilling your longing.

You rested your foreheads against each other, gazing into each other’s eyes.

“I love you.” You breathed out at the same time. The statement brought a smile onto your lips. You leaned in for another kiss, a longer one.

You loved to live with each other, wake up next to each other, do your routines with each other, cook for one another, go to sleep next to each other. You loved him and he loved you.

#genji x reader #mccree x reader #reaper x reader #soldier 76 x reader #jesse mccree x reader #genji shimada x reader #gabriel reyes x reader #jack morrison x reader #overwatch x reader #overewatch fanfic #anonymousrequest

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keanuvibe · 4 years ago

Text

Noses in Roses (John Wick x Reader) Pt. 5 (Final)

A/N: okay yall, this is it. Im saying goodbye to the Noses in Roses universe ;-; I loved it, i loved writing for it. But sometimes you just gotta say bye :( (ps im the worst updater in the world!) (pps this was 10 pages in google docs omfg i need help yall. Do i write too much detail lol)

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: violence, killing, mentions of pregnancy

July 8th, 8:17PM

“Don’t forget, Heather needs a new toothbrush.” You mindlessly spoke to your husband, staring down at the phone in your hand. It was a rare summer evening where you and John had managed to find a sitter so you two could go on a date. It’s been since your third baby was conceived, so seven and a half months, since your last. With him constantly going out on jobs and you being a full-time mom, it was hard to find the moments in between.

“Should we stop at the grocery store?” John's gentle voice asked, resting his hand along your thigh. The two of you currently sat in his car, stuck in typical big city traffic. You’d already gone to dinner at some fancy, overly expensive restaurant in Manhattan and now were on your way back home. Looking up from your phone, your eyes met those of your husbands.

“Yeah, there's a few other things I need to grab anyways.” You hummed. John’s hand that donned your thigh gave it a gentle squeeze as his attention turned back towards the street. His car roared to life, when the light finally turned green, as he unnecessarily sped through the intersection. You could tell he was eager to get home. With his profession and the enemies he’s made, he prefers to keep you and the children home. That’s most of the reason as to why you hadn’t gone back to teach after Heather. Another part was the fact Helen is still out there. She’d already given you a run for your money once, and you certainly didn’t want to face that again.

Sure, it’s been four years since all that happened, but you still sat on the edge of your seat. John had vowed to kill the woman if she put a hand on either you or the kids. It was a nice thought, but the actual killing part left an unsettling sour taste in your mouth.

The man definitely keeps his work and home life separate as much as he can manage, but you recall so many late nights where he stumbled into bed covered in cuts and bruises. Sometimes he’d come home so stitched up he could barely move and you'd have to dress him or, in a rare case, feed him.

Your dark thoughts clouded your head and you blinked a few times, watching the passing lights of the city. The movement of John's hand gently placing itself on top of your own, which was resting on your large belly, caused you to look at him. His gaze was still facing the road, eyes occasionally blinking. He had tucked some hair behind his ear, exposing just how handsome his profile is. He’d let his beard become bushy, same as he did shortly after Heather was born. He donned a fresh scar from his most recent job on his cheekbone, though it’s hardly noticeable when his hair isn't tucked back. Subconsciously you squoze your fingers with his, intertwining your hands. They were rough and worn, but still somehow gentle to the touch.

“I can feel your stare,” His voice interrupted the silence.

“Sorry,” You spoke bashfully, averting your gaze to looking back out the window.

“What're you thinking about, darling?” Your husband pushed. His hand gave yours a squeeze, a silent showing of affection.

“A lot,” You responded with a sigh. The car pulled to a stop at a red light, prompting the man to look at you once again.

“Does it have to do with my job?” He murmured, carefully treading about the topic.

“Yes,” Your voice came out as only a whisper. This was an ongoing fight in your relationship, obviously. You can't count how many times you've gone to bed sour, or crying, or heartbroken because of his career. Sure, It paid for your lifestyle and the ability to comfortably raise your kids; but at the risk of losing John? It didn't feel worth it.

“Let’s not focus on that tonight, darling. You know I’m not going anywhere. And if I die, I'm going to haunt the house so you truly can't get rid of me.” John's light humor caused a little laughter to bubble up your throat.

“I’m going to hold you to that.” You mused, tapping him on the shoulder. A smile crossed his face as your eyes met. You still felt butterflies erupt in your belly when you two made eye contact. Just as they did when he first walked into your classroom all those years ago.

Cheesy music from the eighties echoed throughout the grocery store as you and John walked towards the pharmacy section. You pushed the cart while your husband followed beside you, his eyes warily looking around the semi-busy market.

Patrons eyes turned and gave you and John a look over, which wasn't uncommon when you were out in public together. He is a tall, brooding man, with his eyes always set in a glare unless he’s looking at you, the kids, and your new dog Winston. Their looks only prompted John to stand closer to your waddling figure. One of his hands firmly planted onto your back as you walked. It was a feeling of comfort for you and him; a physical reminder of the other.

“Do you think she’d like this one?” You murmured, stopping in front of the toothbrushes and grabbing a pink, sparkly one from the hook. Heather is going through a princess phase, requesting everything she owns to either be covered in sparkles or be pink and purple. It’s quite adorable, besides the fact that glitter manages to find its way into her small hands and then all over the house. You found glitter in the washing machine once, but only after you'd already done a load. John’s street clothes were sparkly for two weeks before all the glitter finally rinsed out.

“I'm sure she will.” John responded. You could feel his presence stiffen, signaling something was bothering him. Your eyes immediately looked up, trying to peep over the shorter aisle walls in the pharmacy. The store was semi-crowded for late evening, but not too bad. You glanced at the people walking past, looking to spot what had John on edge, but couldn't see.

The man's hand on your back gripped onto your dress a little tighter, as though he was keeping you close. Swallowing thickly, you looked back up to your husband. His brows were furrowed and his lips sat tight. You had to admit he looked pretty menacing. The only time you've had a glance of John Wick was when Helen kidnapped James. It’s as though he turns into a completely different John; like a switch he can easily flip if need be.

“What’s going on, baby?” You whispered just loud enough so your husband could hear. Upon hearing your voice, the man's hand loosened but his gaze didn't shift.

“I think she’s here.”

His response sent cold shivers through your veins and you frantically whipped your head around looking for the woman in question. You didn't have to ask to know who it was: Helen. Instinctively you stepped closer to John until your back was flush with his chest. His hand moved from your back and grabbed your arm instead, gripping tight enough to bruise.

“Let’s buy Heather’s toothbrush and leave.” John spoke, voice low. You quickly grabbed the toothbrush, abandoning the cart in the aisle. John walked ahead of you acting as a sort of shield, while you waddled behind trying your best to keep up. The grip on your arm was starting to hurt, as he was basically pulling you towards the checkout stands.

Approaching the self checkout, John let go of your arm, gesturing for you to scan and pay. He then turned his back to you, watching people on the surrounding machines. Swiftly scanning the toothbrush, you could feel the panic and mild horror coursing through your veins. It was beginning to feel overwhelming; The people, the noises, the music. Your head was starting to spin.

Once the receipt printed, John grabbed your hand intertwining your fingers tightly. The two of you made your way to the exit, but you kept your head down as a nauseating feeling passed over you. Stepping through the doors, John’s eyes kept glancing around the parking lot, wary of each person that passed.

“I think i'm going to be sick,” You murmured, putting your free hand to your head. You felt the clamminess of your skin, sweat from the summer heat only worsening the feeling.

“We're almost to the car, darling, just a few more steps.” John's voice was instantly soft at your claim. He adjusted his position, letting go of your hand and placing his own on your back, guiding you towards the vehicle.

Once you made it to his car, he quickly unlocked it and helped you in; following by climbing in himself. The quietness of the interior felt odd as the man put the key into the ignition, bringing his car to life.

“Hello, John.” The cocking of a gun caused you to turn your head, eyes widening as the sight of your husband's ex-wife holding a gun to his head.

“Helen.” The man responded, voice low. His gaze was fixated on the rear view mirror, looking at her sitting in the backseat. You could feel the anger radiating off his body.

“What, I don't get a nice greeting anymore?” The woman smirked, never moving the gun from its spot. John didn't bother to answer, he only stared at her with a heavy glare.

“Mrs. Wick, you look lovely. Expecting again I see.” Helen changed the topic, her gaze turning towards you. You felt a chill run down your spine as her eyes bore into your own. They were lifeless and cold as she carried a smirk across her perfectly painted lips.

“What do you want?” John took her attention from you, speaking up. Her eyes lingered, however, glancing down at your belly before looking back towards your husband.

“Oh, John. You never were one for pleasantries.” Helen mused, shaking her head. In her pause, you took the time to finally look at your husband. His gaze still remained forward, staring at Helen through the rear view mirror. His fists were clenched tightly onto the steering wheel, so tight his knuckles had turned white.

“Anyways, I just thought I’d pop in and see how you were doing without me. It’s been four years since our last run in, I missed you Jonathan.” She spoke, almost softly, but there was still an unsettling ring in her tone.

“With a family and everything, I figured you’d forgotten about me.” Helen pressed on, sighing after she spoke. “James probably misses his mother.”

“You were never his mother.” You found the courage to speak, anger beginning to boil your blood like hot water. Sure, James isn’t yours biologically, but he is your son and no one is allowed to claim your babies. Especially not the woman with a gun pointed towards your husband.

“Oh? I birthed him, did I not?” Helen coyed, cocking her head and looking towards you.

“You abandoned him, did you not?” You sneered back, eyes narrowing. Helen blinked, shocked you’d even snap back. Her mouth pursed tightly, clearly upset by your words. The gun in her hand pressed further into John’s head making your heart race; the man seemed unphased, however.

“Drive, John. I can’t kill you and your Bitch of a wife in a parking lot, that’s too obvious. Third Ave and Main.” The woman spoke, eyes glaring back towards your husband. John put the car into drive, pulling out of the grocery parking lot and onto the street. His knuckles were still white from gripping on the steering wheel so tightly.

“You know, Heather has grown up to be quite cute, I must admit.” Helen chimed, eyes staring directly towards you. She's trying to get a rise from you, finding it amusing. A little smirk covered her face, seeing you and John both clench your jaws.

“Do not talk about my daughter.” John finally spoke, voice low.

“Last time I checked, she isn’t even yours.” Helen mused before continuing on, “Right, (Y/N)? Your dead ex-husband's kid? Does she even know her real father’s name?” The woman pressed on.

You and John remained silent, swallowing the anger that was threatening to release. There was no point in wasting your energy and playing the woman's mind games. Heather does not need to know her real father, for John has been the best dad to her since the moment she was born. Even before that, when you were pregnant, he loved her. Plus, Helen’s nose doesn't belong in your personal business.

The remainder of the drive wasn't too long as location actually wasn't too far from the grocery store. John pulled into the parking lot of a warehouse. The building stood surrounded by other warehouse types, however they were smaller and looked to be falling apart. Big machinery littered the area as well, clearly having not been used for years as rust had begun to decay them. The street lamps were dim, near the end of their lifespan; leaving the place ill lit.

“You remember this place?” Helen murmured, looking at your husband. You could sense this area didn't bring back happy memories, judging by the stiffness of John's person.

“Turn the car off, and slowly exit the vehicle.” She spoke, tight lipped. The two of you willingly complied, climbing out of the vehicle slowly just as asked. Your mind couldn't help but wander; thinking about Heather and James at home. You only prayed that Helen didn't get their first and that they're still okay. The babysitter is probably curious as to where you two had gone. It's already late, nearing ten o’ clock according to the watch donning your wrist.

“Lean against the car, hands behind your backs.” Your kidnapper hissed. You and John did as she asked; you leaning against the passenger side, while John leaned against the driver side. She pulled a thick zip tie from her pocket, swiftly tightening it around Johns' wrists first. She then stepped over to your figure, grasping your arms and tightening the restraints around your own.

Furrowing your brows from the pain of the zip tie digging into your skin, you weakly looked up eyes met those of Johns. He couldn't say what he wanted, but his eyes told you everything he needed. He’s going to get you out of this, one way or another.

“Into the building, let's go.” Helen spoke, shoving the gun into your spine, urging you to walk. Your heart picked up in speed noting the second weapon she had unsheathed. She now had two, the one against your spine and the original pointed towards John again.

Approaching the warehouse doors, she urged John to slide it open. The man turned around and awkwardly slid the doors open with his hands still bound. Helen then ushered the two of you in, her gun jabbing your spine unpleasantly. The inside was large and mostly empty, save for some abandoned equipment, a few small shipping containers and some scaffolding. Moonlight shone in through some windows that were high up on the wall, giving some light to the large dark room. You noticed two chairs in the middle of the space as well, probably where you and John were to sit.

“Sit.” Helen then spoke as soon as you reached the seats. With force, the woman shoved you into the rickety fold up, causing you to nearly fall backward.

“Touch her like that again and I’ll kill you.” John spoke, his words filled with venom and threat yet he somehow remained mostly monotone. Helen merely stared at the man before laughing, shoving him into the seat as well.

“Don't tell me what to do.” She then replied, sheathing the second gun and leaving only one in her grasp.

“What do you want from us?” You questioned weakly, eyes veering up to meet your kidnapper. The woman seemed to be pleased by the tone in your voice; as it is so clearly beaten and broken. Hell, you’re also heavily pregnant and the sick feeling you felt earlier still hadn’t gone away.

Helen's perfectly painted lips pursed into a smirk, crossing her arms at the same time. She stood in front of you, bending over to meet your eyes. Your heart raced, but you didn’t dare break eye contact. You are strong, and you aren’t going to let this woman belittle you.

“I want to kill you, (Y/N).” The way she answered was filled with delight and amusement. “I want to watch life leave your eyes as John screams in anger.”

“You really need therapy.” You spit back, causing the woman to stand up straight and step back. She let out a snort of laughter, haphazardly waving the weapon in her hand around.

“They tried. Didn’t you, John? You and Aurelio.” She mused, beginning to pace in a circle around your sitting figures. “It’s for your own good, Helen.” The woman's voice mocked, “‘You are sick’, ‘You are a threat to yourself and others.’’’

“I couldn’t see you get hurt.” John finally spoke up. You looked over to your husband to see his head drooped in defeat. You’d never seen him so broken before, this wasn’t anger, it was sadness. The man had to process his past, something he’s been running from for years.

“You couldn’t handle me becoming a better assassin than you.” Helen retorted. “Our whole relationship, you tried to put me into a box. I’m not some little housewife, John.”

“That’s not true.” The man responded, finally raising his head. Helen had returned to standing in front of you, arms folding once again.

“Whatever, I’m still going to kill you in the end.” The woman spoke, shrugging her shoulders. “And after I’m finished with you, I’m going after your children.” Immediately, your eyes cast to your husband wide with fear. You could see the defeat leaving his expression as rage began to fill it instead. His brows furrowed, forming an angry crease as he looked up through his lashes to meet Helen’s amused face. She struck a chord, and it was obvious.

Without a blink, John raised from his chair charging Helen and knocking her over, prompting the two of them to fall onto the ground. The gun in her hand flew from her grasp, landing by your feet. Standing up as well, you kicked the gun closer to your hands, leaning down awkwardly to grab it.

John maneuvered his body so his cuffs and arms now were in front instead of behind his back, giving him more of an advantage. Helen swiftly stood too, pulling out her second gun and pointing it towards your husband. The man reacted, using the restraints to pull the gun from her grasp, sending it flying across the room. He then quickly jabbed her in the throat, causing her to choke and falter back slightly. Grabbing onto her shirt, he then kicked her shin following by flinging the two of them to the ground, putting her into a choke hold using his legs.

The woman retaliated, however, squirming her way out of his grasp. They stood up in unison again and Helen began to hit his side, catching him off guard. She then used the zip tie handcuffs to her advantage, holding onto them as she swiped under his feet, knocking him to the ground. She then straddled him, trying to get any hit in she could, however John was quick to kick her off.

In the meantime, you frantically looked around for a sharp object to cut your ties. Nearby sat a pile of old tools, rusted and decaying. Making your way over and searching the area, you found an old hand saw with some chipped blades. Bending down to your knees, your back faced the saw as you searched blindly for the blade; due to your hands still being bound. The rusted blade cut into your forearm from your search, prompting a whimper of pain to escape your throat. Blood began to pour down your skin, dripping onto the ground. Biting your lip and pushing aside the pain, you began to saw at the restraint until the zip ties finally broke free.

Standing back up, you grabbed the gun that had fallen from Helen and made your way back over to them. The grunts and groans of their fighting persisted, and you saw that Helen had managed to find a piece of old tarp. She wrapped it around John’s throat, causing him to thrash around in an attempt to rid himself of it.

“Let go of him!” You yelled, shakily pointing the gun towards the two of them. Your voice caused them to pause and stare into your direction. John saw the blood dripping from the cut on your forearm and furrowed his brows with concern. Helen let out a manic laugh, tightening the tarp around John’s throat which prompted the man to squirm a bit more.

Time felt slowed as the scene unfolded in front of you. Staring into your husband's eyes, he gave you a gentle nod, as though he was giving you permission. Your grip was still shaky, but you aimed the best you could and closed your eyes; pulling the trigger.

A body slumped to the floor, but the ringing in your ear clouded most sounds. Your eyes still remained shut, too scared to face whatever the outcome was. The tarp sound crinkled throughout the warehouse and footsteps approached your figure.

“Darling, it’s alright,” John’s soothing voice echoed. Finally dropping the heavy weapon, a sob escaped your throat. Your husband gently pulled you into his arms, his chin resting atop your head and arms wrapped around your body. He began whispering gentle reassurances, turning you so you couldn’t see Helen’s dead body on the ground.

---

A warm early morning breeze caused you to blink and look down at the decaf coffee in your hands. Your eyes wandered to the bandage wrapping your forearm; a grim reminder of the events that occurred last week.

You killed someone.

Granted, a bad someone, but she was still somebody.

Returning home that evening wasn’t an easy feat. You had passed out from the loss of blood and the overall shock. John told you that he got you home safely and stitched you up to avoid hospitals. Somehow, he’d also kept you hidden from the kids and the babysitter.

Every night since then, when you close your eyes you hear the bang of the gun and the body slumping to the ground. You didn’t actually see her body, which you’re grateful for. But the sounds still haunted you. Of course you hadn’t told John how you felt. How could he relate anyways? He does this for a living, the pain and emotional baggage probably doesn’t even affect him anymore.

“Mommy! James caught a snake!” Heather's eager voice broke your thoughts, and you blinked, looking at your children with Winston walking alongside them. Sure enough, in your son's grasp was a small garden snake.

“Oh gross, baby, go throw it over the fence.” You responded, shaking your head in amusement. James has really come to enjoy the local wildlife that wandered, more like slithered, around.

“But it’s cool!” He defended, holding it closer to your figure.

“Don’t bother your mother, you know she doesn’t like snakes.” John spoke, coming through the sliding glass doors to the backyard. He too carried a cup of coffee, still donning his pajamas. You gave him a gentle smile, then turned your attention back to the kids. A chorus of sorry’s came from the two of them before they ran over to the fence; Winston close behind.

“How’re you this morning?” John murmured, pulling up a chair next to yours.

“I didn’t sleep well,” You sighed, eyes greeting Johns. He furrowed his brow with concern, tucking some hair behind his ear.

“Darling, is there more going on than what you’re telling me?” He asked, getting straight to the point.

“I’m just haunted.” You spoke softly, casting your eyes back down to your coffee. A gentle sigh came from your husband before a hand rested on your thigh.

“I struggle with that every day.” He responded, causing you to look back up at him.

“You do?” You questioned, raising a brow.

“Yes. But I put on a brave face and conquer the day the best I can.” John replied, scooting closer and grasping your hand into his own.

“I know she was bad, but-”

“Correct. She was, and you did the right thing.” John cut you off before you could justify anything. “The kids are safe because of you. We are safe because of you. It had to be done.”

You nodded, feeling a lump begin to form in your throat. Your mind has been so clouded by the negatives, you forgot to remember the positives that had come from that. Both you and John are alive, and your kids. Resting a hand on your belly, you felt the baby squirming around, another reminder of the good you'd done.

“It still hurts,” Your voice broke as you spoke, and a gentle tear rolled down your cheek. John was quick to wipe it away. Gently grasping your chin, he raised your face until your eyes met.

“I know a therapist for my profession. I’ll call her for you. She’s helped me through a lot. ” He spoke softly. You nodded, sniffling and wiping your eyes. Things could only go up from here. The main threat to yours and John’s future is gone, and your kids can grow up only knowing love. Your baby can be born and know nothing of the pain that you have gone through. Maybe now, your family can know peace.

“I love you, Mrs. Wick.”

“I love you too, Mr. Wick.”

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