#so this is what the construction workers are up to during the lunch hour

[lillaydee]

The Unlucky One Part 5

Joel Miller (No Outbreak AU) / F Reader

When it comes to love, Lady Luck seems to have lost your address. After being left at the altar without so much of an explanation, you decided love is no longer something you are interested in. Not even meeting an unlucky-in-love-himself Mr. Grump could change your mind.

Right?

Let me know if you want to be tagged, or if you want to be removed from the tag list.

WARNINGS: Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Grumpy Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Idiots in Love, unlucky in love, Child Abandonment, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us)

@peelieblue, @vickie5446, @harriedandharassed, @lovefreylove @martuxduckling @kikookii

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 4

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It’s been 13 days since he got back. 13 days, 6 hours and some change since he got back home from the best vacation he’d ever been on. Not that he was counting. Still no calls or texts from you. Not that he was checking.

Joel stood in his kitchen sipping his usual coffee, staring at the five bags of Kopi Luwak that he brought home but couldn’t bring himself to drink. Not that they reminded him of you or anything. He just didn’t feel like it. What if he got queasy again and you weren’t there to help calm him down like you did back in Bali?

Okay, so maybe the coffee did remind him of you.

Fuck! What the fuck was happening to him? Why couldn’t he shake the memory of you out of his head? You managed to forget him just fine. You forgot him immediately after you woke up. Just upped and left and shut the door in his face as if he was a leper. He had to admit, he was puzzled. He thought the two of you connected. He thought those few days spent together was amazing, and that night… damn…

Oh God. Oh God.

Oh dear God.

Was he bad in bed? Was he so bad in bed you just wanted to forget the whole thing? Never again? Not even a goodbye kiss? Did his breath stink? He knew it had been a while, and he didn’t exactly have much experience… but… really? Could he really be that bad?

But that night… he was sure you… God, he could never forget that night. He dreamt about it, fantasized about it. Was that just him? Was it not like that for you?

Fuck, he was spiralling.

Was he feeling like this because you rejected him? Was this an ego thing? ‘There was no way you were not attracted to him so he’s now obsessing over you’ kind of situation? A defence mechanism? A rejection of your rejection?

Was this a normal thing after a one night stand? People just moved on and pretended like that night didn’t happen immediately after? Cause if that was the case, he failed spectacularly at it.

He had to admit. He was not used to this. He was a shy, awkward, skinny, pimply kid with curly hair in high school, so it wasn’t as if he had girls lining the school halls for his attention. He had exactly one girlfriend back then, but she moved away with her family. He was all set to go to college, and if he did, maybe his life would have taken a different turn, but things happened.

His dad got sick. Joel didn’t want the family to worry about money, so he decided that he could delay college for a while, get a job and help out. His dad’s brief illness quickly drained the family, and after he died, Joel took a permanent job in town, doing construction for a small local company to help his Mama pay the bills. Tommy joined him once he finished high school.

Being a shy, awkward, lowly paid construction worker whose Mama still packed his lunch for him didn’t exactly scream hunk back then.

It was during this time that he met Jen. He was doing construction at the local university, and she came up to him asking for his number. He was very quickly taken in by her. She was gorgeous, and his complete opposite – confident, fun, sociable, and Joel couldn’t believe she would pick him, a mere labourer, over the wealthy college guys with bright futures.

She came from a wealthy family, unlike him. Her family was really nice to him, though. They were not the typical, snobby rich family he saw on TV. They accepted him immediately, welcomed him. They admired the fact that he gave up a bright future to help his family.

She was the typical sorority girl with friends from wealthy backgrounds just like her. But somehow, he was just accepted among her friends and their wealthy boyfriends. She had never cared that he couldn’t afford the things her family and friends could and had never once pressured him into letting her spend her money on him. He profusely declined whenever she offered. He couldn’t believe his luck. He was besotted with her, her beauty, her humble nature, her sweet laugh, he thought he had hit the proverbial romantic jackpot.

Her dad offered him the money to start his own business, but he refused. He was loyal, he didn’t want to create competition with the man who helped him out when he needed a job. They loved him even more for this, Jen’s father started his own business from nothing, and respected Joel’s wishes. When his boss wanted to retire, Joel and Tommy pooled their savings together, got a bank loan, and took over the small business. They did okay, and soon enough, Joel asked Jen to marry him, confident that he could provide for her and give her a good life, determined to work hard to eventually give her the life she deserved.  

She even agreed to his preferred simple ceremony instead of an ostentatious one, even though her family could more than afford it. Their honeymoon was spent at her parents beach house in Florida. Simple. Understated.

He and Jen were happy. They had everything they needed, it wasn’t much, but the life was theirs. What he couldn’t give her materially, he made up for in acts of services, making her feel valued, appreciated. She never had to drive anywhere, he would drive her. She didn’t even have to cook, he did it for her. He even packed her lunches. Cleaning? No problem. He did it all. Just so his darling wife would be happy. He couldn’t afford expensive vacations, so they went for drives instead, exploring places not many went to together.

They were in love. Happy. Content.

Her family recommended his services to their friends, and before he knew it, his small company was hired by half the wealthier population in Austin. The business was growing. They were not quite at the point where Jen could just stay at home and not work, but they were getting there. Slowly, but surely.

But a couple of years into their marriage, something shifted. Jen’s group of friends started getting married to their wealthy college boyfriends, immediately giving up their fancy college diplomas to be a stay at home wife, while their husbands worked for their family businesses making six figures even at such a young age. They lived in fancy houses gifted by their rich parents, were served hand and foot by servants and garnished with the latest fashions and accessories, spending their free time getting massages and manicures, travelling to exotic places and going on shopping sprees all over the world.

While Jen had to work still, the extra income helpful for their household. She expressed her wish to stop working once, envious of her friends’ free time and lifestyle. Joel was hesitant, telling her although he would be fine with it, realistically, he couldn’t afford to give her all her friends had on his current income. She tried to put her foot down, but her own family intervened, telling her they were not ready for her to be unemployed. Hold on a little longer. At least until they have children.

But her friends didn’t have children and they didn’t have to work. After all these years, peer pressure finally took its effect on her. It was as if she realized that this was the life she was stuck with, and it wasn’t what she wanted in life after all.

And thus began of the end for their marriage.

She started resenting Joel for not wanting to accept financial help from her parents to expand the business in the first place, for not wanting to take bigger jobs, calling him proud, egotistical, that it wasn’t fair for her to live this way when the opportunity for him to make more money was right there. Her own father backed Joel up, telling her that he was being cautious, realistic, better that than taking a job he couldn’t handle and risk bankruptcy, praising his son in law for the fact that he knew not to chew more than he could bite. Success takes time, he told her. He himself didn’t get to where he was overnight. He reminded Jen that while she might not remember it, she was brought home from the hospital to a rented room, not even a house, that was all he could afford back then. He reminded her where she came from, and that Joel needed to do this, to know the value of hard work, so that he could appreciate his success more. Joel promised her he would work harder to give her what she wanted, just give him some time.

The fact that her own father made her out to be the unreasonable one for wanting a better life made her find faults with Joel more.

She started to resent his touches. His kisses. Annoyed that he arranged the usual date nights she used to love for them. He was too clingy, she said. Why can’t he be like her friends’ husbands and find a life of his own? Go golfing? Make friends? Go out more? Find a fucking hobby? Instead all he wanted to do was spend time with her. How suffocating.

Sex slowly became a thing of the past, rejecting Joel’s advances at every opportunity, only participating when she’s in the mood. Even then, the sex had to go how she wanted it to go. She needed to be in control. And then, after one such rarity where they did have sex, she got pregnant with Sarah.

Suddenly, the pregnancy was his fault. He was trying to trap her in a boring marriage, complete with child. Everything about him annoyed her. She hosed him down in the yard one winter just because he was dusty from working with drywall all day. She made him sleep on the couch because his snoring annoyed her. She threw the contents of her lunch bag at him for packing gummy bears for her – she told him she was craving some – claiming that he was trying to humiliate her at work, a grown woman bringing in a packed lunch her hubby made, complete with children’s snack. He took it all in, she was pregnant. His Mama warned him that women change during pregnancy. Be patient. It’ll get better.

When Sarah was born, she didn’t want to touch her, making Joel hire a nanny to take care of her. His Mama and mother in law took turns helping with Sarah. Jen merely existed in the house, not wanting to have anything to do with Joel or Sarah. Her parents had her checked out for everything, PPD and the likes, fearing the worst, but the doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with her. Joel coaxed his in laws, telling them she just needed time. Everything will be okay.

When she returned to work, she became two different people. The fun, friendly Jen everyone knew outside the house, and the moody woman who lived with Joel and his daughter Sarah at home. She started coming home later and later, often drunk and stumbling, screaming profanities at Sarah for crying, at Joel for not keeping her quiet. He endured insult after insult from her, staying in the marriage, hoping this was just a phase. He never told anyone about her behaviour, believing that she will snap out of it, that the sweet woman he loved will come back after some adjustment period.

But then, she came home one morning after a night out, tossing her phone at Sarah for crying, thankfully missing by a mile, screaming for Joel to come get his spoilt, attention-seeking daughter and zip her mouth shut, only to find her own parents and mother in law waiting for her in the dining room. They had suspected something was wrong still. But Joel wouldn’t tell them anything, still trying to protect his wife. And now they had seen it all.

Her parents staged an intervention. Cut it out, or they’ll cut her off.

That seemed to work. She got sober. She started to warm back up to Joel, telling him she just needed time to get used to Sarah. He understood, relieved that she seemed to have gotten out of the fog she was lost in. When Sarah turned one, they had a birthday party for her. Jen organized it all, going all out for her daughter, inviting everyone she knew, seemingly excited to celebrate her daughter turning one.  Joel was so happy that day. He actually felt as if she was back. He had his wife, his daughter, his perfect family.

On their way home from the party, his in laws got in a car accident. His father in law died on impact, his mother in law on the way to the hospital.

The day after the funeral, Joel woke up to Jen’s empty closet. She left. Just like that. Moved back into her family mansion. She told Joel it was temporary. She’s not divorcing him. She needed time to sort out the estate, to find herself again, now that she was all alone. She was in mourning. Please wait for her, she said.

He loved his wife. So he waited. And waited, and waited, and waited.

She never came back. Sold her father’s business, took all the money, even the account her parents set aside for Sarah and lived the lavish life she’d always wanted. He saw her on social media, partying, living the life of the riches. Endless vacations, shopping trips, so much pampering and primping, while he stayed in the house he bought, raising Sarah with the help of Tommy and his mama and later, his cousin Tess.

In the years this was happening, Joel wore his wedding ring still. He was a married man, even if his wife decided forgo her own rings a long time ago. He ignored Tommy’s invites to ‘distract himself’, as he put it, his wife certainly was, always seen with different men here and there. Joel wasn’t interested, preferring to focus on his little girl, who had zero memory of her mother. He actually got comfortable in his life. He went to work, his business doing extremely well, came back and spend time with Sarah. He loved it. He loved her.

Every now and again he would run into Jen, who pretended not to see him. She only texted him every now and again when necessary, taxes, insurance, that sort of thing. Otherwise, radio silence. Nothing about Sarah. Nothing about his well-being.

This past year, he finally thought enough was enough. He just woke up one morning and snapped. He suddenly didn’t see why he didn’t do it sooner. He was gonna file for divorce. What was the point? He’d been in limbo enough. She was not coming back. But she didn’t even give him that chance. The day he opened his door to go to the attorney he had made an appointment with, he got served with divorce papers.

She was getting married to some Italian businessman she met a few weeks ago, Tommy and Tess told him. They’d been stalking her social media for him, as he had given up a long time ago. She was getting a quickie divorce, offering him money in exchange for an uncontested signature, and dropping her parental rights to Sarah. The new shiny boytoy didn’t even know she had a daughter.

He waived the money, signed the papers and took off his wedding ring.

He was angry. At Jen, for throwing away the good thing they had, for rejecting Sarah, for leaving him. At himself, for being so stupid and blind, for waiting for her. For romanticising what they had so much that he couldn’t bear to end it when he should’ve the moment she left, for still believing her promises when she had done nothing to prove she had any intentions to keep them.  

As Jen began announcing her wedding preparations before the divorce was even finalized, he found himself getting angrier and angrier. And the day it was finalized, she announced the lavish wedding in Italy in just two weeks. On the day that would have been their 8th wedding anniversary. Her birth date.

He lost it. He sobbed in his mama’s lap like a little child that day. Never had he cried like that, ever in his life. It was as if he had been sleeping and had only realized that he was in a nightmare of a relationship, one that he couldn’t even regret, because it brought him Sarah. And that made him angrier at Jen, for marring the memory of the birth of what turned out to be the best thing that had ever happened to him, this perfect child who he would die for, that he would always associate with Jen and her relentless bullying of him.

Tommy came knocking on his door that night, telling him to pack his bags. One of their clients had booked a fancy, non-refundable vacation to Bali for him and his family, but had to cancel due to some family matters, and rather than let the trip go to waste, decided to gift it to the brothers for a job well done. Joel fought the trip tooth and nail, wanting to sulk at home instead, but after seeing the pre-wedding photos of Jen and her handsome man on the cliffs of Positano, he packed his bags and waited for Tommy in the truck, leaving Sarah with Tess at home.

And boy oh boy was he glad he went.

So glad, not even the text he received from Jen ‘checking if he’s okay since she didn’t know if he knew she had remarried’ when he landed from Bali bothered him.

But then you didn’t call. And he was in so much pain wondering why.

Right about then, Joel wished he had actually taken Tommy’s offers to be his wingman all those times he’d offered. Tommy offered. So many times. Every time they went out for drink he offered. He almost succeeded one time, but the moment Joel saw the young ladies looking to have fun at the bar he just lost his confidence and went home.

One of Tommy’s many, many, many girlfriends once tried to set him up with her friend, a sweet pre-school teacher. But no… he was too busy waiting for the woman who threw him out like he was yesterday’s garbage.

If he did take his chances back then, if one night stands or dating were a normal thing for him, maybe he wouldn’t feel like this. Hopeless. Defeated. Rejected.

Or, maybe, it was because you were the first woman he didn’t feel awkward with after Jen, despite the awkward first encounter with you. He was not in a good mood, but he could see you weren’t either. Maybe he was just comfortable with you because he could see you were in the same boat as him, whatever boat that may be. He didn’t really know your story. But he knew he liked you.

He thought you liked him too.

Apparently not.

He tried Googling you. Your name, Aria, was rather unique he thought, but he couldn’t find you online. None of the Aria’s he found, the photos, at least, were you. None named Aria on Insta were you. He actually tried getting your last name from the reception when he checked out, but was told they couldn’t give out that information.

Tommy and Tess noticed. Heck, even his Mama noticed. He seemed distracted. A faraway look on his face every time he stood still.

“You know, I thought the day he stopped thinking about Jen would be a Godsend,” Tess whispered to Tommy over breakfast, seeing her cousin with that look again as he drank his coffee. “But I’m seriously worried about him now. You sure you don’t know that Maria’s last name? Her number? Anything? If we find her, we could find this Miss Grump.”

“No, I don’t. Believe me, I’m kicking myself over it. That woman’s great. I should’ve asked for her number, but it wasn’t like she was eager to give it up to me either. Believe me, I would be happy to find this chick for him, but I can’t. Much as I am worried for him, I think it’s time he get over her. It was a fling. Holiday’s over, move on.”

Tess scoffed. “Yeah, like he could do that. He’s not a man whore like you, Tommy. He’s a soft guy. I mean, Sarah was one when Jen left. She’s five now. Took him all these years to finally get over Jen. You think he’s gonna forget this Miss Grump with the snap of a finger? Heck, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s in love.”

“He falls too quickly. He always does. Look what happened with Jen. Maybe don’t encourage him to reminisce about a woman we cannot find, please?”

Tess shrugged, getting up to get Sarah’s breakfast as the little girl walked into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes and giving Joel the ‘uppie’ arms, him immediately lifting her up and smothering her in morning kisses.

Tommy just watched as his brother kissed a sleepy Sarah goodbye, the grumpy look on his face back to stay once he got in the truck. He cleared his throat, “You wanna go for a drink after work? Take your mind off this chick? Maybe you’ll get lucky?”

Joel glared at his brother and shifted into reverse.

“She ghosted you, brother, you should move on.”

“I just need some time, okay? I’ll be fine,” Joel said as he stopped at the traffic light at the intersection near his house, watching the cars and trucks going into the housing area, not wanting to look Tommy in the eye. He focused instead on a truck driving in.

Suddenly, for no apparent reason, his hair stood on ends. He looked around, wondering why he was feeling like that. It was a warm morning, so why the goosebumps?

**********

You rubbed your arms and neck, the prickly feelings of your hair standing on ends making you feel as if a warm something had just passed through you. What the fuck was that?

You were sitting quietly in the back seat of Kyle’s truck, seething at the text you’d just received from Andrew. Apparently, he had just found out that you left town, just upped and moved away. He was not happy with the way you handled things. You gave up too quickly, he said. Angry at what he saw as you thinking that he didn’t deserve any more of your time to try to make things work. To try to talk to him. To find out why. That you just accepted the break up so easily. You must have had someone waiting in the wings for you, huh? Why else would you leave so easily without a fight?

You couldn’t believe this man. He was angry at you for moving on? After he left you at the altar? Ghosted you? Did everything he could to show you he wanted you out? Sheesh. Dodged a bullet, right there.

Were you so angry that you broke out in goosebumps? Yeah, that must be it.

“I need a new number,” you told Kyle and Ethan, “I’m starting over, right? New number, new email. I don’t care anymore. I can make new contacts. Not like my old contacts work here anyway.”

“You didn’t know he was batshit crazy?” Ethan asked, neck craning to look at you in the backseat. They couldn’t believe it when you read Andrew’s text out loud to them. They all knew what happened. He was the perfect guy, until he came back from a business trip one day and just started acting all weird and distance. Then he left, even going so far as packing your stuff up for you so you could leave quicker. And now he’s giving you grief for actually doing what he wanted you to do in the first place.

“Yes, I did know, actually, I just thought it would be fun to deal with shit like this,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Standing in your wedding dress only for your groom to not show up in front of everyone you thought loved you, fun!”

Ethan cringed, mouthing a sorry to you.

You helped him out of the truck when you arrived, his leg still in a cast from the accident, but couldn’t help himself, wanting to see the new house you had impulsively bought after one Facetime tour. It was all taken care of quickly. Cash payment helped, so did having the realtor who had many contacts on your side.

The house was cute. Like Kyle told you, it was fully renovated before being put up for sale. “The contractor did a great job,” Ethan remarked. “Yeah, the previous owner knew them personally, apparently,” Kyle said. “I’ll get their contact, in case you wanted to change something,” he told you.

You had to say. It really was a great place. Four bedrooms, two and a half baths, but still small enough for you to manage alone. And your dads would visit a lot, Maria apparently had booked a room for herself to stay at during the weekends. Only problem was, the place was completely empty. You didn’t even have a spoon on you to put in the kitchen drawer.

“Ikea?” Kyle asked, earning a groan from Ethan, who, for some reason had launched an all-out war with the furniture store.

“Yeah, Ikea.”

Ethan grunted, prompting you to tell him he didn’t have to go with you, you just needed the basics. And you didn’t have time to wait months for custom made furnishings. Not like he could walk the ginormous girth that was Ikea in the first place.

“But meatballs…” he pouted.

And that was how you ended up pushing him on a wheelchair in Ikea the next day. You were planning to just pay for the assembly, but when you saw how much they charged for it, you balked.

“You’re not paying for assembly?” Kyle asked, panic setting in his eyes. “You ordered like, a truck’s worth of furniture.”

“It’s fucking expensive!” you hissed.

“Babe, in case you forgot, you don’t exactly have a financial issue!” he hissed back.

“Just because I have the money, doesn’t mean I should throw it around!”

He rolled his eyes, Ethan rolling his head, frustrated at your ridiculous frugality. “Pick your battles, babe,” he said. “Those things are not gonna be easy to assemble quickly!”

“They come with instructions, you know, we’ll have an assembling party or something. I’ll buy one of those battery operated tool thing. My dads are coming. You guys are here, Maria’s here, we’ll have fun!”

They did not look convinced.

To be honest, neither were you.

When the truck delivered the many, many boxes to your new house a few days later, you knew you had made a mistake. You were so confident. You even gave up the Airbnb you were staying at, convinced you could at least put the bed together that day itself. But as the delivery people brought in more and more boxes you were seriously regretting your decision.

Kyle and Maria had to work. Ethan had a doctor’s appointment. Your dads wouldn’t be here until the weekend. You tried to coax the men to at least help you assemble the couch and the bed, you would pay, you said, but they were on a schedule. You could pay someone else to do it, they said, even handing you some cards with numbers you could call. But none of them were available on such short notice. The earliest they could come was in three days.

Oh well, you thought, you could just sleep in the living room for three nights, the mattress just needed unrolling.

So when everything was in, you rolled up your sleeves and made room in the middle of the living room, moving so many boxes aside you had to take a break on the legless couch for a while. Fuck, Kyle and Ethan were right. This was a bad idea. You were kicking yourself at your own stupidity, realizing that you probably had to pay more for assembly now that you were hiring private contractors for it.

Right, break over. You stood up and went to unroll the smallest mattress, the one you got for the daybed meant for the smaller guest bedroom. As you were lifting the roll up to place in the spot you wanted before cutting the tape out, you were taken aback by how heavy it was. You stumbled backwards, lost your footing and basically fell back onto a bunch of smaller boxes and stuff that you pushed towards the door, making an ungodly crashing noise as you did.

You laid there in the mess, the roll of mattress on top of you, seriously wondering how on earth your life had come to this. You heard some footsteps running towards your door, a frantic series of knocks following.

“Hello! Are you okay? I heard a crash. Hello?”

“Yeah, coming,” you managed to mumble, pushing the shockingly heavy twin mattress off you. You opened the door, and a pretty lady was standing there, a concerned look on her face at the sight of you, all sweaty and dishevelled from your attempts to reorganize the boxes, and oh yeah, the spectacular fall.

“Are you okay? What was that noise?” she asked, eyeing you up and down, checking you for injuries.

You laughed, “I’m okay, so sweet of you to come knocking. Just lost my footing a bit. I’m alright.”

She looked relieved, before clocking the stacks and stacks of Ikea boxes filling the first floor of your house, her eyes widening. “You didn’t pay for assembly?” she asked, making you want to bang your head on the wall, yet again.

“Stupidly, no.”

She laughed, “You’re very brave,” she said. “How are you going to do all this?”

“I’ll probably pay someone to do it,” you told her, regret filling your face at your own ambitiousness and sheer stupidity.

“Oh, hon, they’re gonna rob you,” she said, cringing. “I’ll send the guys over, they’ll help. They renovated this place, you know. We live right next door,” she gestured to the house on your right.

A truck rolled into her driveway. The engine cut out.

“Oh really? They did a great job!” you said, suddenly cocking your head a little, having looked at her more carefully now. “Say, you look familiar. Have we met?”

“No, I don’t think so. You must be the new owner. I’m Tess,” she said, holding her hand out.

The door to the truck opened, and the driver jumped out, rounded the truck and opened the passenger back door. Hey, he looked familiar.

Oh shit.

Tess.  

Fuck.

---

Part 6

[hyunpic]

got a taste of his own medicine 💦🧍

[octuscle]

Peter's body was his temple. He worked hard to make every woman wet when she saw him and every man freeze in awe when Peter flexed his muscles. And his job as a construction worker gave him plenty of opportunities to do so. Although he actually only used the construction site as an extended training ground for posing, and although he spent every free minute in the gym, he had a successful career, was popular with all his colleagues and had nothing to complain about. And yet sometimes he envied his colleagues who went out for a beer after work and stuffed themselves with fast food during their lunch break, while Peter drank gallons of water and otherwise ate only raw meat and salad without dressing.

Peter started his Friday afternoon with a round on the stationary bike while surfing Instagram. “Fancy a weekend of boozing and having fun without regrets?” The ad on Instagram struck Peter like a bolt of lightning. A guy with a paunch was standing at a bar with friends, his T-shirt wet from the beer flowing out of the corners of his mouth as he drank. Shit, yes, Peter used to fancy that. He really wanted to. He clicked on the account. Pictures of fat guys in bars, bowling, in fast food restaurants. Peter actually found that disgusting. A real man shouldn't have an ounce of fat on his body. But really letting himself go for once? Shit, that would be awesome! “Pling” Peter had received a message. From the owner of the account. “Peter, don't dream, just enjoy! How cool would it be to play a round of darts tonight and stuff yourself with chips and beer!” What the hell?!?!!?! How did the guy get his name and address. He hadn't liked anything or anything. Still, the guy had struck a chord with him. “Tell me more,” he replied. “Meet me at the diner, Lincoln Ave. on the corner of 2nd Street. 20 minutes.” Peter was harder than he'd ever been in his life. A weekend of fun. What could possibly happen?

Peter stopped the training. Chuck at reception looked questioningly as he left the gym after just half an hour of training. "Forgot a private appointment!" Peter called apologetically over his shoulder and held his sports bag protectively in front of his boner. Shit, he was really horny at the idea of letting all discipline go for once. The diner was a pretty run-down place. It reeked of old chip grease and cheap cleaning fluids. No wonder there were hardly any customers. Except for one. It was clear that this had to be his contact person. A fat, unkempt pig! With a portion of burger and chips in front of him.

Naked, flabby torso. shit, yes, that's exactly how Peter wanted to spend his weekend. He wanted it so much. No idea where this untamable desire came from. “Hi, call me Zac,” the guy said with his mouth full, spitting chunks of his burger around. “And you want to have fun for a weekend? Do everything you usually deny yourself?” Peter, who couldn't normally complain about a lack of self-confidence, nodded silently with a dry mouth. “Okay, I'll send you a link. Just accept it, tick both terms and conditions and off you go.” Zac wiped the remnants of food from the corners of his mouth with his forearm. Peter's cell phone vibrated. He opened the link. He ticked the box. He clicked on okay. He looked up. He froze.

Something else mingled with the smell of chip fat and cleaning agents. The smell of pure masculinity. Of fresh sweat. Of well-worn sneakers. It smelled like Peter smelled. He no longer noticed the smell on himself. But the man who was suddenly sitting in front of him exuded this smell in masses! Peter felt his hard-on. But his boner was… Smaller! Much smaller! And he was no longer horny at the idea of spending an excessive weekend. He was horny because of the guy in front of him. Shit, what Peter would give if he fucked him now…!

“Dude, thanks a lot! I thought I'd never find another idiot who wanted to swap muscle for fat.” Zac tensed his biceps. “So, makes you horny, doesn't it? Do you want me to fuck you? Not a chance, Piggy! But you can suck me off if you want.” Peter was in a trance. He didn't understand what Zac was saying. Why did he call him Piggy? Peter was still as muscular as ever. But fuck, he had to suck that cock. The place was still almost empty. Peter crawled under the table. There were puddles of chips and Coke on the floor. Zac pulled his boner out of his gray sweat pants. And Peter sucked greedily. The sweat on his balls and cock was pure musk. Yes, it was the perfect start to the weekend. He had never blown a man before. But he knew damn well how to do it. Zac groaned. A large precum stain formed in Peter's pants. And shortly after Zac had squirted his load in Peter's face, Peter squirted too. He had greedily swallowed Zac's load. A little bit still dripped onto his shirt. But there was still more on his shirt than in his pants. Peter was a wanker. Three or four times a day. His balls never had a chance to fill up enough to produce a load like Zac. “Good Piggy!” said Zac, ”Here, this milkshake is your reward, I don't drink that shit anymore.” And without another word, Zac got up and left the diner.

Peter was hungry. Hugely hungry. He didn't care about the stains on his pants and shirt. In fact, they had already dried up. There were a number of similar dried stains. Peter stood at the counter. Three bacon cheeseburgers, two large portions of chips with nacho sauce and a large Coke. That should be enough. For a start. The waitress asked if he wanted an ice cream for dessert. Peter asked for a large portion. An hour and three more burgers later, Peter got up. He stroked his stomach. He vaguely remembered the washboard stomach he had once had. A roll of flab bulged out from between his shirt and trousers. He wiped his ketchup-smeared hands on his greasy trousers. It was almost 5:00 pm. Time to get ready for bowling night with the boys. “Pete's Handyman Service” was written on his pickup truck. It had been a good year since he had started his own business. About the same time he'd said goodbye to the gym. Pete made his way home. Showering before bowling would be silly now, he'd be sweating like a pig again. But he put on a fresh pair of shorts and a fresh T-shirt. And grabbed the bag with his lucky ball and shoes. A glance in the mirror. Yes, he looked good. He was a real guy. Not an effeminate model.

It was around 9 p.m. when Pete threw his last ball. He was finished! It had been a busy week and he'd rarely had as much exercise as he'd had in the last three hours. For the rest of the evening, he was content to talk football with the boys, drink beer and stuff his face with nachos. And waiting for Mike to finish at the bar. Because then he would shag Pete. Mike was a really handsome guy. Actually straight, of course. But for some reason, which Pete was grateful for, he loved fucking Pete's fat ass. Pete didn't fight back! By the time he was lying in bed in his trailer at 02:00, his transformation was complete. It had been ten years since he had changed his life. Since then, he had been living on fast food and beer. He loved his cigars and chewing tobacco. Shit, yes, he was panting like a locomotive after only 200 meters on foot and he could only see his cock under his belly in the mirror. But shit, he had fun in life. His boys and he went bowling, sometimes they went fishing or football (Pete more in the passive observer position). And someone who loved to fuck his flabby ass could always be found. There were a surprising number of fans of his on Instagram and Gaydar. Tomorrow he would do the bookkeeping on the fucking computer. In the past, he'd had someone to take care of that stuff. But business was only so-so… So he had to struggle through it himself…

There was an e-mail in his inbox, sent at around 4 p.m. on Friday. Some shit with terms and conditions that he was supposed to have accepted. Probably some kind of crazy spam. He had a message from Zac on Insta. Phew, how long had it been since he'd been in contact with him? Must have been about ten years. “Piggy, I have to cancel our date on Sunday night. I don't feel like living without this body anymore. Have fun, you fat pig!” Probably spam again. Piggy, er Pete, couldn't remember a date for Sunday night.

Inspiration by @billowingpillowboy

Pics by @ki-kink

[lesuccube]

➚ 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐊 𝐃 : ᴀᴜ-ᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ — ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ , ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ʟᴏᴠᴇ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — a treat for you and your lover .

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — fluff infection

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 0.5k

baker!steven who loves making you treats and sneaks them into your lunch bag without you knowing.

baker!steven who makes the most of his goodies gluten free but will occasionally (read: every time you ask for baked treats) indulge your request to make them sugary and sweet.

baker!steven who would spend sleepless nights in the kitchen concocting new recipes.

baker!steven who, with enough encouragement from you, opens up a shop after his sudden unemployment from the museum.

baker!steven who cried upon hearing that you had used up most of your lifesavings to get him a quaint spot downtown with a busy enough street that guarantees him a steady flow of customers.

baker!steven who promised to pay you back for your investment and won't take no for an answer which in the end resulted into agreeing to open a joint account so his 'debt' would be put to other uses like your shared responsibilities like rent, groceries and for emergencies.

baker!steven who absolutely adores his shop, making sure to keep his customers saitisfied with quality food (he has two menus, separating gluten free items for the vegan options).

baker!steven who makes friends with his regulars, chatting up with the old ladies that come in for afternoon tea and crumpets, helping college students to the best he can but absolutely enjoys it when they ask help for history subjects and entertains little children with ancient egyptian trivias and gives them tiny trinkets for free.

baker!steven who refused to serve donna when she came in for coffee after the horrible treatment she had given him when he used to work at the museum.

baker!steven who closed shop for a few hours to call you up looking for comfort because seeing donna so suddenly after finally recovering from what he had endured from her before shook him.

baker!steven who would most definitely close the bakery after lunch rush to personally visit you at work to hand you a basket full of extra baked goods to share with your co-workers.

baker!steven who loves when fall arrives because he gets to decorate the shop in fall amd halloween themes and gets to experiment baking with different pans and cookie cutters.

baker!steven who eventually experiments with learning how to make drinks so the equipment you had gotten him will be put to good use until he learns the hard way that brewing coffee is not good for his autistic brain.

baker!steven who would hire a barista instead to make the drinks and gets along with them, gives them free treats during lunch break and gives them leftovers from the day's batch.

baker!steven who eventually joins the farmers market after getting enough recognition from customers in his street and encouragement from aunties from the neighborhood.

baker!steven who had to close his stall after just a few hours because he had sold out all of his baked batches for the day.

baker!steven who 100% loves his new career path.

baker!steven who would drop by the street act he used to talk to after work hours from the museum to give him a goodie bag and a big tip just because.

baker!steven who waits for you before closing up for the day so he can dance with you between counters and tables, murmuring sweet, sweet love to your ears in between laughter and feeds you a small fresh batch of your favorite cookies before walking back to his place hand in hand with you.

[symbioticsimplicity]

This Idiot Has Seen Goncharov

So today marked the coalescence of the Goncharov Incident as I’ll be calling it, so I think it’s finally time to share.

For a bit of context, you need to know a little more about one of my co-workers. We’ll call him Zeke. First it’s important to note that despite being in his early thirties, Zeke doesn’t have any sort of social media accounts outside of a MySpace page. Dude has straight up been living like it’s still 2007. Zeke also has a fixation with my friend/roommate who also works with us. Zeke will hop onto whatever bandwagon this friend, who we’ll call Jesse, is on. But most importantly to this whole tableau, Zeke likes to tell tall tales, like no matter what you’re talking about, or what you’ve done, this guy has done it but bigger and crazier.

That alone would be annoying, but it wouldn’t be enough to push myself and Jesse to the level we’ve hit with him. For me, it’s the constant need to put other people down for ‘knowing less than he does’ despite the obviousness of his knowledge being a collection of poorly constructed lies. Like not only does he lie, but this dumbass doesn’t even bother to check into the things he lies about. Several times he’s tried to convince me of something in a subject I know everything about. He refuses to admit to being wrong and he won’t back down from anything he’s said, it’s infuriating.

For this, and quite a few other reasons transphobic cough cough augh, he’s been bothering Jesse and I for quite a while. Badly enough that the spite fueled wasp nest that lives in the back corner of my brain Morse coded a plan to me.

Goncharov.

What better way to trip up a ride or die compulsive liar than a piece of media well known for being entirely fictional?

The next day, when Zeke climbed into my car during our lunch hour, Jesse and I began talking about this old movie we’d recently watched. The two of us have known each other more than long enough to able to follow each other’s bullshit like second nature, we’ve played an assload of DND together. In ten minutes we’ve got the whole first arc talked out with a few of the “best scenes” highlighted. (Personal favorites being Andrey juggling guns “a la John Wick/Guns Akimbo” and Katya killing a man point blank after saying ‘Get Gonch’d bitch’ in a 1973 film.)

Zeke didn’t respond too much, just kind of nodded and ignored most of the convo since it wasn’t really about him. I didn’t really expect him to engage to start, he usually doesn’t, but we’d planned to keep this up for another couple days anyhow.

But like clockwork, the more Jesse talked about it, the more Zeke seemed to remember it. Enough that I jumped ahead a little and pulled up the faux movie poster to show him.

He squinted at it then nodded and said he’d definitely seen the movie before.

When I tell you I almost fucking screamed.

Of course he couldn’t remember many details because it had been so long since he’d seen it. To tell you the truth I’d checked out at that point, I was focused on not losing my shit, I have no fucking idea what he said.

While this was an entire meal served up on a silver platter, it would have been pretty easy to say he’d seen the poster somewhere despite not having socials. I want this man incinerated, not merely singed.

Which leads me to the events of the last couple days.

So Zeke came up to Jesse and I and told us he wanted to re-watch Goncharov and asked us if it’s on Netflix.

Jesse and I both said that it is, without hesitation.

Zeke went to look for it (at work, while we’re working no less, again I missed the rest of what he was saying here I was mentally biting him) and obviously found nothing. So he searched every other streaming platform he had, and Youtube, all once again coming up empty.

At this point, I was sure the jig is up. He was actually searching it now so obviously he’d find one of the search results letting him know Goncharov’s true nature. I’m fairly certain the first result for it on Google says that it’s fake.

Oh hoo hoo, no.

Zeke came to me to complain about not being able to find the movie and in a fit of clandestine fervor, I told him that we probably watched it on a pirating site.

It was beautiful, it was inspired, and it worked.

Zeke asked me for the site and I told him that I’d have to get it from our other roommate since she’s in charge of the tech in our house. Then I hauled ass to go find Jesse and spill the latest tea before Zeke could. 

Later on Jesse sent him the link to the site, and he told us he’d find it over the weekend.

Well today, friends, is Monday.

Most of today we spent too busy to go grill Zeke about whether or not he’s crossed over into the fucking Mandela timeline and managed to watch Goncharov. But ten minutes before close, while we’re waiting to go, suddenly Zeke perks up, and remembers that when he gets home, he has to finish watching the movie. He’d had trouble getting the site to work on his phone, but his Xbox had run it, and he’d started watching it, but had unfortunately fallen asleep before he’d finished.

Now. I am a calm man, I can keep a straight face if I need to. But hearing this fucking idiot tell me he’d started watching a fictitious movie made up by Tumblr.com of all places nearly sent me to the fucking Shadow Realm with the amount of effort it took not to crack.

He talked for a couple more minutes before fucking off to do something else, I have no idea again I wasn’t fucking listening, I was trying not to visibly cry from holding back laughter.

But then he left and like instinct, like the inevitable impact of atoms inside of the Hadron collider, Jesse and I turned to look at each other. I knew what Jesse would say, Jesse knew what I would say, and like fate, like destiny, like two people who had witnessed a man commit manslaughter against his own damn self, we spoke at once.

“This idiot has seen Goncharov.”

[saintnightshade]

13 October 19??

The Village of Ashwood

Estd. 1600s Puritan Era on the outskirts of New England

The Village of Ashwood was small and overgrown, taken over by the forest when it was stumbled upon in the early 1900s by a construction company. Future Ideals bought up the land in the area with the purpose of flattening the forest to begin building a cluster of condos. A few months into the work all contact had been lost with the workers on the land, only a handful of men had been present at the worksite during the estimated time of the incident. After hours of silence, superiors had been sent out to investigate the site and determine the cause of the lack of communication. When the men arrived at the site they could not locate any of the workers, all construction vehicles had been running as though the drivers had turned them on only to leave immediately after. There were opened lunch boxes set out with some of the food being partially eaten, it's as if everyone had completely disappeared mid-action.

Police were called, as those in charge of the project feared the workers were run off by violent "tree-hugging" environmentalists. The police ventured around the perimeter of the immediate area the workers had the majority of their vehicles settled before scouting further into the forest work area. They followed a path of freshly cut tree trunks before coming to a stop near a very faded stone marker, the name etched in it barely legible as "Ashwood". It seemed to the officers present that the workers had uncovered an old town of some kind and perhaps their curiosity simply got the better of them and they abandoned their work to explore the town. It was fairly deep into the woods, sunbeams barely managed to penetrate the thick forest canopy. The officers continued their search into the old town, looking over what seemed to be ancient homes made of logs and stone. Some of the hovels had caved into themselves after centuries of rot weighing them down, others were miraculously tethered together by thick green vines. Plush vibrant moss-covered nearly everything along with masses of small delicate flowers, the area smelled earthy and wet, but nestled beneath that sweet scent of flowers was the odor of decay and iron.

An hour or two into their investigation the officers had still yet to find any of the workers, a frantic call from the deepest part of the town called out to the other officers. One of their own had finally found something and it didn't bring them any hope of finding the missing workers. The officers all gathered at the far end of the town where a worn stone slab lay beneath a large tree that had been carved into, forming the crude silhouette of a woman. The area made their skin crawl and their hair stand on end; each officer later stating they struggled to fight off the desperate urge to run out of pure fear-induced instinct. From the trees hung the brittle bones of centuries-old humans, more bones surrounded the stone slab, and under the light of their lanterns the officers made out old brown stains. Strange effigies were strewn about that had somehow withstood the test of time, being tied together with twine and a wad of crusty brown fabric, it looked to be a crudely shaped person. All of this was not what the lone officer had called them to see so frantically. Looking over the eerie place of supposed worship closer brought in new details and had the officers calling in for backup.

Decorating the hanging ancient bones, dulled by time, were shreds of fresh meat dripping warm blood onto the forest floor. Amongst the old bones now hung new additions, freshly scraped of all viscera leaving them a mix of ivory and bright pink. A lunch box sat on the stone slab, now visible with a multitude of lanterns closing in on it and inside of it sat a lump of meat later identified as a human heart. It had belonged to one of the missing workers and had a single chunk torn from it by what seemed to be an animal of some kind, the teeth marks left behind were determined to not be human. Along the thick base of the tree were numerous handprints identified as those of grown men; left in blood. The handprints slowly managed to climb the tree to where the head of the carved woman was set, they caressed her face with single digits and left only a delicate gore-painted smile behind. The air was odorless when they first entered the small grove but after taking in the scene it suddenly reared up with an awful stench hitting the officers with a force that finally sent them all running and gagging all the way back to their vehicles.

The fresh remnants in the forest that day were found to have belonged to a single man and the rest of the workers were never found and have never been cleared of suspicion though the families all vehemently deny their loved ones' involvement in such a horrific affair. The area was deemed a crime scene and eventually, the publicity became too much for Future Ideals and they abandoned the area entirely, taking a huge loss. They eventually turned it into a show of goodwill and deep condolences to the families by allowing it to be fenced off to the public in the hopes that the events of that day would eventually be solved. It certainly earned them the brownie points they were going for and they continued their plans a mile or so off from the area with no objections not long after. Speculation ranged from a case of mass hysteria or some obscure bacteria being kicked up in the construction process and driving the workers insane were thrown around news stations, papers, articles and eventually internet forums. There were two things many people looking into the case could agree on; the area that was found was a Puritan village and no Puritan, during that time, would ever worship anyone outside of the Christian God. So who was the woman that was carved so lovingly into that tree?

As the decades dragged on, the village of Ashwood became a local legend that eventually made its way onto the internet. Locals told stories of strange lights flickering deep in the woods at night and eerie chanting that carried on the wind. Some claimed to have seen ghostly figures moving through the trees, while others spoke of a dark presence as tall as the trees that seemed to lurk just beyond the edge of the forest. Despite the rumors, the authorities refused to investigate the village any further and the area was left to decay and crumble even further in the darkness. The case of the missing workers grew colder as the years went by, finally being written off as a crazy hermit killing the worker and driving the others off. But some brave or foolish souls still ventured into the woods, seeking to uncover the truth behind the mystery of Ashwood or simply for the thrill of investigating an area drenched in murder and tall tales. With every handful of people that went into Ashwood rumors would spread that half of them never came back out or that no one who went in ever came out again. Leaving any further disappearances attributed to Ashwood unverified.

-LiliesForDinner Signing Off

 Lily had always been fascinated by the stories surrounding the village. She spent years researching the history of the area, reading old documents and accounts of the strange events that had taken place there over the centuries. Lily started a blog detailing the history and everything she learned during her research, she may have embellished a little but people like reading about the gory bits! Eventually, she decided to make the journey to Ashwood herself, armed with a flashlight, camcorder, polaroid and a sense of adventure. It was Hallow's Eve, she decided it was the perfect day for a spooky adventure and it would certainly amass her more attention from the paranormal board! Just wait until she gets all the photos developed and the video! She made a post on the forum announcing her plans and she couldn't wait to get back home and start editing. The night was perfect, not too cold, no rain and there was a gentle breeze that would hopefully add to the atmosphere. As she made her way deeper into the woods, the trees seemed to close in around her, their branches creaking and rustling in the wind. She felt like she was being watched, and she couldn't shake the feeling that something was following her.

As she approached the village, the air grew thick and heavy, and she heard the sound of chanting echoing through the trees. She hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should turn back, but her curiosity got the better of her. It could be some others putting together a Halloween setup or... Satanists trying to summon the devil. Either way, it's good footage. As she stepped into the clearing where the village stood, she saw that the village still seemed to be in the same state of stagnant decay from all those decades ago as if stuck in that time. The buildings were still in the same state of collapse and still overgrown while the air was thick with the smell of decay. But there was something else, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Then she saw the tall figure in the shadows, watching her from the edge of the clearing. It was humanoid, but its skin was sickly white, its face framed by long black stringy hair that seemed to writhe behind it. As she stood there, frozen solid and stared, it began to move toward her, its steps slow and deliberate. She took note that it seemed to glide. Lily wanted to run, to get as far away from the creature as she could, but her feet were rooted to the spot. It stopped in front of her and she realized then that it appeared to be a woman dressed in a tattered old dress and as Lily looked up, up and up her breath caught in her throat as she met its face. There were no eyes, no nose, only a mouth that slowly began to split open into a smile to reveal rows of jagged, razor-sharp teeth. It leaned down and she could feel its cold breath on her neck, it reeked of decay and the sound of its rasping breath filled her ears and turned her blood cold. Then it spoke, its voice was sickeningly sweet and melodic.

"Welcome to Ashwood," it said. "I've been waiting for you, you're just in time for dinner."

[dashiell123]

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[strawwritesfic]

Clint Barton x Female!SHIELD Agent!Reader: Railroad

Summary: Normally these sorts of situations don’t end happily. Maybe yours will be the exception to the rule.

Rating/Warnings/Tags: T (fake relationship; spy work; heavy exposition; inaccurate portrayal of South America; inaccurate portrayal of railroads; public displays of affection)

Challenge: “120 Bits of Random” challenge by SugarLandBabyGirl on Lunaescence Archives.

Notes: I really do not know what convinced me when I wrote this that anywhere in South America would still be having railroads in need of construction?? That’s pretty dumb. My apologies to everyone who lives in and/or enjoys South America.

Tag List: @imaginesfire​

Railroad

Every day the sun beat down on your head during your lunch-hour walk, and every day as it did, you thought the same thing: This assignment was really weird. 

It shouldn’t have felt that way. Your fluent Spanish and Portuguese allowed you to communicate with the people of the small South American country in which you now resided. You could blend into nearly any environment SHIELD asked you to here. That all added up. Hell, even your cover as a housewife made sense. 

No, what was throwing you off was your fake marriage.

Soon the sounds of rattling traffic and honking bicycles faded into the distance. The shouts of some man far ahead and the clanking of hammers against iron drifted in to replace them. As you rounded the last corner on your route, the familiar sight of the railroad met you, along with its legion of grimy workmen bustling about its tracks.

This was your fake husband’s cover: a former migrant-worker, newly-wed and moved to the area, desperate enough for constant work to take up setting down the country’s new railroad tracks. SHIELD had caught wind of an Inhuman uprising thought to center around the man that managed the railroad work. Two and a half years later, you could definitively say that no one at Clint’s company had the slightest intention of overthrowing anyone. So the mission had been a waste of time, but at least you knew you'd be headed back to America soon.

A few workers smiled and greeted you as you sauntered past carrying a basket of food. You had, over the course of time, become something of a mascot–or maybe just a mascot for Clint. Not every one of the men there had a wife willing to walk five miles just bring them lunch. 

Then again, not every one of the men had wives that would have gone crazy if they had to stay inside cooking and cleaning all day. You didn’t know how real housewives did it. Keeping a home was far more difficult than anything you had to do for your job.

Five minutes later, you found Clint, even though he looked nearly identical to all the other workers. You stood a few feet away until one of the men around him looked up to see you, grinned, and elbowed him in the ribs. Clint glanced up himself and practically beamed when he spotted you.

“How’s it going, darlin’?” he asked in Portuguese, sauntering right up. You held up your basket wordlessly, and Clint took it as he kissed you on the cheek. “What did I do to deserve a girl like you? Hey, Duarte! I’m taking my lunch break!”

The man standing on a platform overlooking the tracks nodded.

Seeing this, Clint took your hand and led you off towards a group of makeshift wooden tables. You settled yourself on top of one, next to the basket. Clint sat down on the bench and started to eat. Your hand still tingled where he had touched you, and you hated yourself for it. Clint wasn’t really your husband. The handholding was for the benefit of everyone watching, not you.

Hell if it didn’t make your heart beat a little faster anyway.

“You seem down today,” Clint remarked around a large mouthful of a sandwich. 

If you hadn’t been so well trained, you might have blushed. As it was, you simply smiled at him .“I guess I just miss my family.”

It was not as though you could tell him the truth. Even back at the house, you had to stick to your covers in case anyone was listening. Maybe that was why things had got so far out of hand. Spend over two years making dinners and love to a man, and eventually your brain would decide that it might not have been entirely for show. 

But even if there was a point in time where you could flat out say you weren’t really Clint’s wife, you still couldn’t tell him that you wanted to be.

“Well, shouldn’t be too much longer.” His eyes remained fixed on your face. 

You reached out one hand and twiddled with a bit of his filthy hair. 

Clint smiled. “Dear old Dad says we’ll need to move back by the end of the month.”

“You told your boss yet?”

He shrugged. “Figured I’d pull it out last minute. I don’t really want to give these guys extra warning.”

“Extra warning? For what?”

“Come on, [Name]. You haven’t noticed? You’re pretty popular around here.”

“Meaning?”

Before he spoke again, Clint took your wrist and pulled you into his lap so that he could kiss you on the forehead. You giggled, though it made you more sad than happy. 

Stick to the part, you reminded yourself. Fury isn’t paying you to fall in love.

“Meaning I don’t want anyone doing anything to keep you here,” he said. “I intend to take you with me.”

“How romantic.”

“And,” Clint lifted up your hand, stared at the ring there, and then looked you in the eyes, “I intend to make this happen, too. If, of course, you're amenable.”

He knew? And he was okay with it? Again, you found yourself speechless. 

Clint clearly understood, because his smile twisted into a smirk as he stood and sat you on your feet. Before you could choke out anything resembling an intelligent response, he slapped your butt and strutted back to work.

[spiderman-withgreatpower]

Battle of New York from the eyes of kids

@nessiesbarnes

Miles away the battle started. The battle that would change the world forever...that would change the world`s understanding of whats impossible and not. This day would also change the destiny of a small boy and girl.

Peter was 10 years old when the Battle of New York happened. He was in 5th grade attending Midtown Elementary. The children were doing their silent reading for the day as the teacher, Ms. Gomez, graded their recent tests from the week. The kids around him typically used reading time to text their friends behind a book or whisper secrets to one another. Peter didn't have any friends in his class, so he spent the time reading, A Brief History of Time.

After about 20 minutes of reading Peter felt his cell phone buzz, he looked up to see if the teacher was looking his way, which she wasnt, then he checked to see who messaged him. It was his aunt, which he found weird she should be at work and she knew he was in school. She never texted him during school hours. On the other hand, his uncle was supposed to have called him today and didnt. 

Uncle Ben had a job in New York City at Stark Tower. His uncle worked for a construction company and that company was hired to help build the tower. They had been working on it for months now and Peter had so proud of his uncle. Today was their last day, and the workers were doing there final minor touch ups. His uncle had promised Peter that he would send Peter photos of the finished tower and he would call him at lunch to tell him what it was like to be there. He hadn't heard from him all day. In that movement he felt in his gut that something was wrong. The text conversation went back and forth:

Aunt May: I`m coming to pick you up early. Tell your teacher i`ll be there in 20 minute. Go get Nessa and tell her her dad is coming too. I`m giving him a ride to the school since his license is still expired.

Peter: its only 11:40, why are you coming so early?

Aunt May: We will talk about it later.

Peter:  Did something bad happen?

Aunt May: We will talk about it later, Peter.

Peter: Is everyone okay?

Aunt May: Please stop worrying. I just want you home.

Peter: Did I do something wrong? am I in trouble?

Aunt May: Stop worrying. I love you, see you soon.

Peter raised his hand and told his teacher that he was going to be leaving early today. He showed the text message to his teacher as proof. He also told her that he had to go tell his neighbor cause she was going to be picked up too.

He ran down the hall to the classroom at the end of the hall. His best friend was his neighbor, a girl named Vanessa Barnes. She had moved onto his block six years ago and they had been inseparable ever since. The two of them were like family to each other and their families looked out for one another.

He looked into the classroom and saw Nessa in the front row as usual, her teacher was in the middle of a math lesson. Peter stepped into the classroom.

“Hey ummm....sorry to interrupt, Mrs. Rosen. I need to talk to Nessa Barnes!” He shouted and speaking a bit faster than he intended to. “Its important!”

He hadn't meant to shout out it, but he was nervous that something bad had happened. The last time his aunt had picked him up early from school was when his parents had died.

The teacher could see the boy was upset. She nodded and motioned for him to come in.

He ran over to Nessa and sat in the empty seat next to her.

“Ness, my aunt is coming to pick us up. Your dad is coming with her. I dont know what's going on, Aunt May wouldn't tell me anything.”

[thegracelessfaceless]

For the ask game, maybe 30 for Jeff the Killer if you do him? If not, that's fine, you can do whatever character you like. But thank you

You got it, love! I had a little bit off trouble getting into the Jeff mindset, at first. Then I swear his spirit must have taken over, because, shit this gets dark 😅

30. "Ugh, my head... What happened?"

(From Whump Prompts by @whumpster-dumpster )

🔪Drunk and In Love (Jeff the Killer x Reader)🔪

Tw: This is a Jeff the Killer ficlet. More so, it's a David Near Jeff the Killer ficlet. There will be talk of murder, wounds, gore, and sexual themes. If you get triggered by that, maybe Jeff isn't the character for you (just saying). Because of this, the fic will begin under the cut. Enjoy! 🧡

New Journal

🔪Entry #1

It's been a few years since I escaped from that nuthouse in Forest Lawn and killed that crackpot doctor. I've tried to put as much distance between that place and me as possible. I can't help but feel like I'm being followed sometimes, but I try to ignore it as best I can.

Truthfully, I'm getting tired. What I did in Forest Lawn made it onto the national news. Police managed to generate a pretty accurate image of me with CGI, so it's likely I could be recognized at any moment. I travel at night and don't sleep well during the day. I stick to the shadows, only coming out for food, water, or to kill.

After Forest Lawn, I tried to stop, but the anger always comes boiling up, drowning me. I wake up the next night, covered in blood, clutching my knife, Matilda, to my chest like Liu used to hold his dolls.

I miss Liu. In a fucked up way, I even miss Mom and Dad. I don't think I actually miss my parents though. I think I'm just lonely. I miss having someone to talk to, the comfort of human touch. And I never have time to really enjoy myself. For once I would like to take my time, like with Christy.

🔪Entry #2

After a few days thought, I've decided to go back to Forest Lawn. I know it's risky, but... I remember back at school, before everything started getting out of control, there was one person I could halfway call a friend besides Liu. They were always in the library during lunch, their light haired head buried in a book. I would sit at the same table as them and watch them as they read. Their name was Reader. After a few days of sitting with them, Reader started small talk with me and I enjoyed their company. I know I won't be able to keep them. It's too dangerous, I could be caught, plus I don't need to worry about keeping up with another person, I'm barely living myself. But I can keep them around for a little while, at least until morning.

🔪Entry #3

I estimate that I'll be in Forest Lawn by morning. I'm tired, but I feel driven. I think the anger is building again. I hope I don't black out during my time with Reader. Then it would all be for nothing. Today, I dreamed about my time with Reader when I get to Forest Lawn. It was the best dream I've had in a long time. I was surprised that I got enough sleep to dream, but I guess all of my traveling has tired me out. I'll recover for a couple of nights before I track Reader down. That way I'll be fresh.

🔪Entry #4

I found them. I found Reader. There's a construction site across from the post office and I sat up post there, watching during daytime hours. They came after my second day here. Luckily it's a weekend, or I would've been found by the workers. I was antsy and a headache was starting. Then a car drove up and Reader got out and went in. They dropped some junk mail in the trash on the way out. Careless of them, but it's good luck for me. I waited until the lot and street was empty, the post office closed for lunch, and dug one of the flyers out of the mail. It had been forwarded from their home address to their box. Even luckier. I'll go there tonight and see if there's a place I can stay nearby. I'm too anxious to sleep and my head is pounding.

🔪Entry #5

I've found an empty house that sits diagonally from Reader's house. I can see into their bedroom window from the upstairs bedroom. I'd take the time to enjoy their lovely form like I used to with Christy but my head is still hurting and my skin feels like it's going to crawl off of my body. I'm so frustrated that I feel like I'm going to explode. I'm going to have to find something to numb this anger out if I want to remember my special night with Reader.

🔪Entry #6

I broke into the liquor store where I stole that bottle of whisky that that biker motherfucker used to set me on fire. The scars aren't as bad now, fading with time. I'll never be mistaken for a beauty queen, but I'm happy with the result. I'm just as monstrous on the outside as I am on the inside. I filled up my duffle bag with bottles and left before the police could respond to the alarms. The vodka I'm drinking puts a fire in my gut, but numbs out that stifling anger, so, it serves me well. It's been really... Nice out the past few days. Maybe Reader will come out to enjoy the good weather tomorrow. Another added benefit of the booze is that it helps me sleep. It's working even now.

🔪Entry #7

I can't wait any longer, it has to be tonight. I don't feel great about being drunk tonight with Reader, but I can't let myself lose control. I refuse to miss this. Why does it have to be tonight? Because I watched Reader doing lawn upkeep for 3 hours today. They came out dressed for the warm temperature, their tee shirt and shorts showing off all that lovely pale skin. Not as pale as mine, but then, no one's paler than an albino. I watched them mow their small front yard, and mess around with their flower garden. I guess the Homeowners Association is still strict as hell. The longer I watched, the more I felt that part of me that has a bloodlust. It can't wait. Reader will be dead by morning.

🔪Entry #8

The sun just set. I woke up to prepare. I hated waking up because I dreamed of Reader again. About tonight. About rubbing Readers hot, slick blood over my skin until I'm covered in it. About cutting them open and wrapping myself in their entrails. Of cutting out their heart and holding it in my hands. It felt great to feel their body struggling under mine, and then my alarm woke me, pissing me off. I'm going to have a few drinks and wait for them to turn the lights out. Then, it's time.

🔪Entry #9

I'm in a state of shock. I think I felt fear for the first time, I think, like actual fear. It was intoxicating. I made it over to Reader's house and tried the front door. It actually opened. Once again, stupid of them, but lucky for me. Or so I thought. I made my way into the house and was about to start up the stairs when I heard a floorboard creak behind me. I turned just enough to see the flash of a wooden bat. The world seemed to slide to the left and then everything was black. The whisky I drank must have slowed my reflexes.

When I woke up, I was in a room that looked like a basement. My hands were bound behind my back with more of the zip ties that held my ankles together. I heard a small sound, like a shifting of cloth and looked in that direction. Reader was sitting a few feet away from me, legs crossed on the floor in front of them, with a patient look on their face.

"Jeffery Mason" they said, "never thought I'd see you again." They got up from the floor and walked over to me, coming down to my level in a squat. They pulled a switchblade from their back pocket and held the hilt to my chest, thumb on the button. My insides felt like they liquified and I gulped as I turned my head to see them better. The world did its sliding thing again and I closed my eyes.

I tried to answer, but had to clear my throat first.

"Ugh, my head... What happened?"

Then I remembered seeing the bat before everything went black.

"You knocked me out with a bat."

Reader nodded once, still holding the switchblade to the stretch of hoodie under my breastbone.

"How did you know?"

"I saw you watching me from the house across the street. Do you think I'm stupid, Jeff?"

I shook my head, my skin going cold. I'd thought they hadn't seen me. The alcohol made me more careless than I thought. I was already starting to feel it again through the shock.

"Yes, you did. And you were wrong, weren't you?"

I nodded, "Now I know better."

They pulled the knife away from my abdomen and moved it to my ankles, cutting the zip ties there, then then ones on my wrists. Feeling that I didn't know I had lost came flooding back and I rubbed at my hands, trying to get the tingling to stop.

"Get up," they demanded, "and come on. You were just leaving, right?"

I got up slowly, stamping my feet a little to wake them up, "Right."

I followed them back up the basement stairs and through the house to the front door. I saw the remnants of the bat, shattered and laying on the floor in a small puddle of blood. As soon as I saw it, the side of my head started aching. How the fuck did I even survive that?!

Reader held the door for me and I passed through it and they spoke after I went down the three steps of their porch.

"And Jeff," they said and I looked back to see them walk up to me quickly. They grabbed a handful of my hoodie and pulled me close, "Stay the fuck away from me and out of Forest Lawn, or next time, I'll fucking kill you."

They can try.

But I won't stay away.

🔪Entry #10

I fell asleep almost immediately when I got back to the house I was camping out in, after writing my last entry. When I woke up, I had a splitting headache, but not the same kind as when the anger starts taking over. I guess Reader scared it away for now. I'll deal with it when it comes. I grabbed a bottle to numb both my emotions and the ache in the side of my head.

Thinking now, I realize I felt another new emotion: love. I love Reader. They're not the same as Christy, or any of my victims. Reader is strong. Reader is unafraid. Reader is cunning. Reader is... Perfect. So now here I am, drunk and in love. I know Reader will try to kill me if I see them again, but I can't not see them. Being with Reader was like being on a drug, a terrifying, but amazing drug. And now I can't get enough. I will have them, fuck the consequences. Reader, don't let your guard down, I'm coming for you.

🔪Entry #11

I'm moving locations so Reader won't get suspicious. I just got back from leaving a love note for Reader on their front door. I'll have to steal a new knife from somewhere, because I used Matilda to pin the note to their door. It's a gift for them, a token of my love. I hope they like it.

Also, all creeps are open for requests. If I'm not familiar with them, it may take me a little longer to write because I'll have to get to know them, but I'm always willing to expand 🧡

[mimzy-writing-online]

Hello Mimzy! Two questions. I have a blind character with magical abilities: He can tell if someone is lying or using illusions (he won't see the illusion, just know it's there.) He needs that skill because he is a judge. Am I good here, or is this a dangerous chliche? Since he is an important official, he has aides who also act as his sighted guides (he has a staff, too). In some scenes, the MCs will act as his guides, so I was wondering what do's and don't's exist for writing sighted guides?

On the topic of his magical ability: sounds great

Tips for sighted guides:

1. Always ask and confirm the blind person’s consent. 

When approaching a blind person you’ve just met, say, “Would you like me to act as your sighted guide? Can I help you in any way?” If they say no, then politely step back and accept that they’ve got it from here. If they have trouble and they want your help, they will ask.

With a friend or co-worker, it’s more like this: “If you ever need a sighted guide, I’m available.”

Because sure in an environment you’re comfortable with you won’t need a sighted guide, but if you and a co-worker are going out for lunch, or to some new venue for a work thing, then knowing they are open to acting as a sighted guide makes it a lot easier to ask for help.

“Could you guide me?”

“Yeah, sure.”

2. How to begin guiding and proper form.

The sighted person will offer their elbow to the blind person. Some people have a preference to which hand they use to hold onto someone’s elbow. I personally to hold on with my left hand to their right elbow, because fifty percent of the time I’m using my cane in my right hand too. If someone has a strong preference for which hand they’d like to hold onto with, they will hold out that hand.

Example when I’m with friends:

I hold out my left hand in their direction. “K, could you guide me?”

He walks up to my left side and it’s easy for me to slip my fingers around the crook of his elbow.

Some blind people prefer to hold onto the back of the elbow and walk a step behind their guide. Personally I prefer to walk side by side, and not because it’s better or easier but because that’s what I got used to when I first started experiencing severe day blindness and before I started watching Molly Burke’s videos. She instructs people to follow the method of letting the blind person hold onto the back of your elbow and walk a step behind.

There are some benefits to doing it her way. If you are a step behind, you know when there is a step up or down because the elbow you’re holding onto is moving a few inches up or down as the guide steps down.

I never learned to do this, I am terrible at change, and this benefit rarely applies because my guides always tell me when we’re approaching a step.

3. Things I like my sighted guides to do

-tell me when we’re about to step up or down and allow me to take the stairs at my own pace. This sometimes means letting go of them and holding onto the rail while I feel my way up with my feet and shoes.

-tell me when we’re stopping to cross the street and when it’s clear and we will cross

-when standing at a cross walk, I like to place the tip of my cane a step ahead of my guide because drivers will see it and realize one person in this duo is blind and to exercise caution.

(It took my mum years to realize I did this on purpose and finally ask me about it, and I always do it at cross walks, even when she’s not my guide)

-Inform me of upcoming obstacles in my path and move so that I have enough room to walk around that obstacle

-Drop casual details of things in the environment that I can’t see, like a building with cool architecture, or pride flags, or an animal on the sidewalk, or if a garden is nice, or if someone on the street is doing performing. These are all things that interest me personally. If your character doesn’t care about architecture, there’s little point in their guides mentioning it. So consider your characters interests and if something might pop up in their environment

4. Never ever do this when acting as a sighted guide

-Never touch their cane! Ever. Don’t kick it, don’t nudge it. Even if you think, “fuck it’s going to hit something and get damaged.” I don’t care. You might as well have kicked me in the face. I want my cane to find everything dangerous for me, that’s why I have it, and any disruption to what it’s doing is annoying and distracting. And canes are durable and we know how to take care of them.

If you must prevent our cane from touching something dangerous or fragile, then inform us verbally.

-Do not jerk them in some direction without a verbal explanation. It undermines the very precious trust we are putting in your hands to safely guide us and respect us as people.

-Do not speak for them. Unless they express to you that they have anxiety that stops them from advocating for themselves sometimes and they want you to step in if it’s obvious their rights are being violated or they’re being harassed and too afraid or stunned to say anything. And if they give you that permission and then later revoke it, you must respect it. If they give you that permission but are clearly going to advocate for themselves this time, then do not speak over them.

-Do not just leave them somewhere and walk away. If you must walk away, tell them where you’re going, regardless of whether it is to the bathroom, to throw something away in the trashcan across the room, or if you need to leave the even. Do not just leave them with someone else and assume that’s okay for all parties involved. You’ve just told the blind person you can’t be trusted to stick around if they need you.

What being a sighted guide means and What I am telling you when I ask you to be a guide:

I am in a position where my safety depends on having a sighted guide with me. Please stay with me. I am showing you a lot of trust by asking for this in the first place. Treat me like a person capable of making my own decisions, I am not helpless, this environment just did not consider blind people during its construction and planning and is inaccessible to me. If this place or event was accessible then I would not need a guide, but here we are. I am not helpless.

That is all I can think of at this hour, but anon, I greatly appreciate you asking how to write a good sighted guide because this is something I rarely touch on but a post that benefits both writers and any person interacting with a blind person in real life.

[i-ntrmission]

Nine (Van McCann)

Just a silly little fic where Van is sporadic regular at a coffee shop. 

Part 1 (4.3k)

They say bad things happen in threes.

Your phone hadn’t charged overnight, leaving you with 15% battery.

A car ran through a puddle during your walk to work, soaking your legs.

An elderly man held the door of the coffee shop open for you, gesturing with a newspaper for you to go ahead, and a smile that you couldn’t help but reciprocate, until a busy mum storms out from the shop knocking into you and spilling fresh coffee down your jacket.

“Tough morning, eh?” Your co-worker, and resident barista genius, Toby comments with a chuckle while you stomped around the counter. Having seen what just happened, and taking in your soaked tights.

Julia, resident window art and slogan genius, glancing around from the till with a sympathetic pout while you roll your eyes at Toby, pushing on the staff door.

“Oh, leave off Tobes - leave her be. That was tragic, babe. Spare tights in my bag, help yourself.” She says before turning back to the line of customers.

“Cheers, Julia.” You sigh in relief while heading into the back, Toby’s dry chuckles and singsong of ‘Happy Friday!’ following you.

Once you have on dry tights, cleaned what you can from your jacket (thankfully it was leather), and hunted down a spare charger for your phone, you grab your apron and head back out.

By some grace of god, you had a later shift for today, meaning you missed the usual breakfast run full of impatient office employees, half asleep students, pass remarkable construction workers - thankful, with the way your morning had went you wouldn’t have been fit for dealing with that kind of stress this morning. Now in the clear for the easy hours before lunch.

“There she is,” Toby, a lazy grin when you re-emerge, Julia leaning on the counter beside him sipping from a mug, basking in the post breakfast rush comedown. “Here ya go, looks like you need it.” He slides a takeaway cup over to you, and you all too eagerly take a sip. Caffeine can nearly always fix anything, especially a bad morning.

Cinnamon caramel macchiato, a hum of appreciation and a drawn out ‘thank you.” He only chuckles out a ‘no bother’, picking up his tea. You had always found it ironic that someone who despised the taste and smell of coffee worked in a coffee shop, and on top of that made really fucking good coffee.

“So what’s happened you? Apparent from the coffee incident obvs, looked like you wanted to throttle all us when you came in,” Julia asks, brown eyes glancing over you as she takes another sip from her mug.

“Nah, she just always looks like that,” Toby says, a teasing grin. You just roll your eyes, it was true that your resting bitch face was Medusa level.

A sigh, taking another mouthful of your coffee and picking up a basin to start clearing the tables with while you shrug and launch into the story of your morning.

“Happens in threes, doesn’t it.” Julia comments when you catch them up.

"Well, that's my three strikes done for the day, thank fuck,” you shrug. She frowns at that.

"Touch wood."

"What?"

"You jinxed it saying that, need to touch wood for good luck!" Appalled that you never heard of the superstition at question.

Rolling your eyes, a huff as you walk away to start cleaning up. “Think I’ll be alright, Jules.” You weren’t superstitious. “Want some salt instead? Throw it over your shoulder!” Toby chuckles.

Julia only elbows him in the side, telling you both to piss off, mumbling something about having to spill salt first before you could do that.

But, maybe there was some truth in her superstitions because no less than ten minutes later, a cup slipped through your fingers smashing on the floor. Cursing yourself and then glancing meekly in her direction, she watched with a raised brow.

“Reckon it’s too late to touch wood?”

After the cup, you break a plate.

After the plate, you stand back to let a toddler and mum pass by you to get to the bathrooms, standing back with a smile - until you knock over a stand of artisan coffee bags.

“Another three down,” Julia mutters with a smirk while stacking clean cups.

“Sure you don’t want that salt?” Toby quips while walking by you as you sweep up spilt coffee beans. You give him the finger behind the dustpan you held, he reaches up as if to scratch at his beard - sliding his middle finger along his cheek, right back at you.

Your bad luck continues. During the lunch rush you manage to burn a granddad’s toasted sandwich, shortchange a regular who worked in the bookies across the street, and upend a student’s iced latte over your top.

You’re hopelessly scrubbing at the stain on your top when Julia walks into the back, grabbing her pack of fags.

“Jesus,” she mumbles, a dumbfounded look at how much you had managed to fuck up today. Completely out of character for you, a perfectionist by nature. “Did ya break a mirror or sommat lately?”

You only sigh and shake your head, “Any significance in the number 9?”

She thinks for a second, then smiles as she pulls a lighter from her jacket pocket. “9 is supposed to be good luck, actually. New beginnings,” she tilts her head, looking at you, “maybe buy a scratch card, or come to the pub quiz tonight!”

You laugh but before you can reply your manager walks in, a empathic glint in her eye. Everyone who worked here adored Carly, the ultimate mother figure. A caring but also a take no shit kind of person.

Your name - as she walks in, “what’s going on, pet? You’re a one man wrecking machine today!”

She tells you to take an early lunch, go home and get changed, clear your head and the come back. You sigh in relief of not having to wear a soggy blouse for the rest of the day. Half way home when you realize you’ve left your phone charging under the counter.

Finding Julia’s cat, Kurt, sitting on the steps to your and Julia’s shared basement flat. He purrs, pushing his head into your hand when you reach down to pick him up. You spend the next half hour sprawled on your bed with Kurt, eating rice crackers and watching “Best of Dean Winchester” complications on YouTube. Self care.

An hour later, when you walk back into the cafè Julia does a double take, stretching her arms wide and tilting her head in a ‘what the fuck!’ manner.

“Yeah? What’s up?” You ask, walking around the counter to pick back up your apron.

“Where’s your phone?! I’ve been texting you! Guess who’s bloody back?” A rush, and she’s all but bouncing on the spot, eyes gleaming with excitement.

You reach under the counter to pick up your phone, holding it up to her. It was still turned off but charged now. Telling her you forgot about it before you left. Not really bothered about her sudden elation, probably just one of her newest little crushes that changed every month. You entertain her, nonetheless.

“Who? Your man from the butchers?” Asking, while tying your apron, she shakes her head, eyes alight.

“Hm, weird uni Tolstoy wannabe?” You guess again, she shakes her head, then adds that he’s not weird just a bit eccentric and there’s nothing wrong with that. You still think the fact that he’s read War and Peace four times, and brags about, is a red flag.

You’re about to suggest the blonde and blue haired girl from the library when she cuts you off. “Anyway it’s nowt to do with me, cmon you know who it is!”

You only stare at her, blinking and out of guesses. She sighs your name is exasperation.

“Christ, you’re hopeless today. It’s only Van fuckin’ McCann, isn’t it!”

Your eyes widen, heart kicking around your ribs and blood pounds a bit harder at mention of his name. A reaction that surprises you.

“Fuck off!” It comes out as an alarmed whisper.

Van McCann had been coming to the coffee shop for three years now. Often showing up for a few days at a time and then seemingly disappearing off the face of the earth.

He had an obsession with the loyalty cards you dished out with the paper cups, nine stamps got a free drink. He never filled one.

He first showed up three summers ago, middle of a heatwave. He was wearing all black, ripped jeans, and a holy jumper. The holes and rips didn’t seem to be a fashion statement, more like he had just worn the clothes to death. He was pale, too pale. Shoulder length hair that definitely hadn’t seen a shower in a couple days, bags under his eyes. Towing along a smaller guy with long hair and a bandana. They looked out of place. A cloud of cigarette smoke lingering around them, underlying weed.

You and Julia had exchanged a glance. “Homeless? Junkies?” She mouthed at you, after they had sat down with their teas and cinnamon buns you had freshly made that morning. You had rolled your eyes, told her to stop being a judgmental prick.

He came back the next morning, on his own. Same jeans but a black T-shirt, and fluffy hair. You had been cleaning tables, observing while Toby served him. He wanted another cinnamon bun, Toby told him he was out of luck, you hadn’t made them that morning. Glancing over his shoulder with interest when Toby had pointed you out as the resident baker.

The third morning he was back again, a Glasvegas T-shirt. Julia told him you loved that band while he was waiting on his coffee. You were putting out fresh cherry and chocolate scones, when he caught your eye.

“Ey, they’re class aren’t they? What’s ya favourite song?”

You always struggled to hold his gaze when he looked at you, that didn’t change with time. Insanely blue eyes framed with lashes that were wasted on him. You shrugged, “probably Lots Sometimes.” And he had broke out into a wide grin, giving you the first glimpse of his slightly crooked bunny teeth.

You had given him the first of many loyalty cards that day, seeing as he had come in for three mornings straight, he pocketed it with a little huff of laughter, novelty.

He didn’t come back for months after that.

You and Julia spent the next few days speculating who he was and where he had gone, passing slow shifts. Toby rolled his eyes at the theories, saying that he most likely found the new Starbucks across town. Julia sighed in disappointment while muttering something about how conglomerate multi nationals were the root of all evil.

However, he turned up again a month or two later. A busy morning, frantic. You hadn’t even had a chance to look up at the next person in line when you heard his voice, “well ‘ello again, Glasvegas.”

And that’s how it went on, the cycle of Van appearing for a little bit then vanishing for longer. Each time he easily became the best part of the long days - banter, shameless flirting, footie talk with Toby, taste testing any and everything you had baked as a trial run, swapping stories, endless loyalty cards.

He always had a strange little smile when you added an fresh coffee cup stamp to the grid, something the general customer didn’t really care about and it was often a surprise when they filled the card up.

He never gave a heads up when he would be leaving again, he simply just disappeared. And you tried to pretend it wasn’t weird that you got a plummeting feeling in your stomach when it came to the day he didn’t show up. Blue eyes, freckles, a contagious laugh. It was all lingering stares, fingers brushing longer than necessary, throwaway salacious comments.

“C’mon babe, you know he’ll be back, quit sulking,” Julia would playfully elbow you when the day came, and you shook your head with snort, “Shut up, M’not sulking.”

You eventually found out he was in a band, and sometime last year he had asked you if you wanted to come to one of his gigs. Well, he had asked the three of you - but Julia was going on holidays that weekend, Toby had a wedding, and when his eyes met yours you had instinctively crafted a lie about going to visit your sister in London. Something Julia gave you shit for for weeks afterward. You didn’t have a sister, and you hated London.

A few weeks after that incident - by then Van was long gone, Julia stormed into the café with an NME magazine in hand, slamming down on the counter, Van’s face filled the cover.

“Fucking hell!” You and Toby had exhaled in near unison.

“So turns out he’s actually proper famous then, eh?” Julia laughed.

“Am I the bad boy of rock, then? Oh mate..” Toby read from the cover, laughing. “And you turned down the chance to be his bands groupie!” He joked, turning to you.

“Here, I thought he wanted us to go watch his shite Arctic Monkeys rip off band play sweaty Whelans okay?!” You defended.

“Do you think we can start a wall of famous regulars now?” Julia changed the subject, taking a fresh scone you were laying out, flicking to the pages of his interview.

“Yeah, Rock’s bad boy Van McCann and Barry from Eastenders. What a lineup...” Toby snorted, going back to stacking coffee beans.

“I mean, Van kind of looks like Hugh Grant... If you squint.” You shrugged.

You and Julia went home and watched countless Catfish and the Bottlemen interviews and live sets, you liked seeing how Van never changed. No matter who he was talking to. Treating everyone like they were an old friend, not someone he had just met 5 minutes ago.

The band seemed to really take off that year, he came back less and less. But he was still the same old Van when he did, success didn’t change him. Then their second album dropped a year ago, and you hadn’t seen him since. You were happy for him, it was obvious that he was living his dream. Eventually, you stopped thinking about him all that much, life moved on.

Now you were looking at a smug Julia, instinctively glancing around the shop while she laughs and tells you he’s long gone.

“Came in literally 5 minutes after you went out, this day is honestly like some weird fever dream.” She tells you, while Toby comes out from the back.

“And she told him you didn’t work here anymore, should have seen the poor lad’s face!” Toby chuckles.

The two of them look at at each other with a groan when you ask why he’d be upset about you not being here anymore.

“I swear to god, if I have to watch the eye fucking over coffee cups for the next few days...” she sighs, an eye roll. “He’s made it obvious he’s fancied you since the first day he walked in, yeah? Give him a chance!”

“Fucking hell, that’s pure bollocks,” exasperated. Met with a disbelieving look, which only brings you further into defensive mode. “Look, you even gave him my number on one of the stupid loyalty cards last time, never even heard from him. Obviously isn’t interested one bit.”

Julia had asked you if she could write your number on his loyalty card last spring. You had only half said yes, half said no. Noncommittal, all she needed to run with it. She handed it back to him without saying anything, only a smug smirk. You pretended you hadn’t sprung for your phone at every notification for the next two weeks in hope of hearing from him, you never did.

Julia - another eye roll, hands in the air, “Dunno, maybe he just lost the card! You just need to stop writing people off before you get to proper know them!”

The rest of the day dragged, but no more bad luck. As if the universe realigned around Van, which probably wasn’t too far from the truth.

By closing time, it’s just you and Toby left to do the clean up and lockup. It’s nearly 9 when you hear him drawl your name, walking into the kitchen and leaning against the doorway.

“Hey, Kiddo...”

“Toby, my love, what have I told you about patronizing me before you ask me for a favour?” Humming while you put cling filmed dough into the fridge for the pecan pie you were planning on making tomorrow morning.

He laughs and walks in, leaning against the counter. “Alright, sorry - princess.”

Shutting the fridge as you turn to face him with an eye roll, wordlessly telling him to go on. He launches into the how he kind of maybe forgot that his anniversary with his fiancée is tomorrow, their usual Italian restaurant they go to every year is fully booked but he knows the chef. Who, as of this morning, promised to do a private dinner for them, if he meets him at half nine and buys him a couple of drinks.

You listen while you clean off the counter tops, shaking your head with a laugh. “Dunno, mate. What’s in it for me? I mean apart from the joy of mopping floors and taking out the bins?”

Playful - a long sigh. “Isn’t the selfless act of helping out a friend in need reward enough?”

“Yeah, but we’d have to be friends first for that wouldn’t we?” You tilt your head.

“God, you’re such a little bitch sometimes, y’know that?” He chuckles, you shrug. “Right, how about I take the bins out and mop the floors all of next week, and I’ll treat ya to a Sunday roast down the pub after we finish Sunday, deal?”

He holds out his hand, eyes narrowing. Pretending to mull it over for a few seconds, you wouldn’t have made a fuss about him asking you to finish up tonight anyway, but he was always too easy to wind up. Eventually you sigh out a “suppose so” and take his hand.

Pulling you into a hug, dragging out a noise that resembles, ‘legend’ while kissing your head.

Once he’s gone, along with the rubbish, locking you in and halfway pulling the shutter down outside, you put on a Richard Ashcroft album and start on the floor.

Crazy world - you’re half singing along to the chorus, and finishing the floor, when you hear a faint noise behind the music. Insistent tapping. Confusion clouding - knowing you were here alone, glancing behind you, your grip tightening on the mop. And you almost jump out of your skin, a shadow in the entrance to the shop.

It’s Van.

He had clearly ducked under the shutter, now outside the door silhouetted by buzz of streetlamps, tapping on the glass. He laughs at your startled expression, holding up his hands and mouthing ‘sorry, sorry!”

Heart - thumping even harder now, lightheaded. Grabbing your keys to unlock the door, and when you’re face to face with him your mouth goes dry.

“Thought you’d gone and left on us, Glasvegas,”

Gaze flickering over you, a smile tugging on his lips. You can tell he’s been drinking, the all too familiar scent of hours spent in the pub lingers, mixed with fresh cigarettes, shrunken pupils and glassy eyes. A wave of trepidation prickles along your arms, drunk men made you nervous.

But - it’s Van, all messy hair, drunk eyes, and a lazy tired kind of grin. Relaxed and happy.

“Nope, still here like always,” releasing a breath you didn’t realise that you had been holding. Focusing on his necklace, sliver glinting under opened shirt buttons. “Heard Julia was messin’ with you earlier, eh?”

“Too good at fuckin’ with us that one,” he laughs, licking his lips. “Had me dead convinced you’d gone.”

Creased blue shirt - sleeves rolled up, the colour only makes his eyes look even more blue, and even more pretty. Finding yourself being increasingly self conscious despite his equally disheveled appearance. Knowing that your foundation was separating, concealer caking, mascara flaking and lipstick long gone. Coffee stains and flour marking your clothes.

“Did you want to come in for a sec?” You manage to ask.

“Can I? Won’t get ya in trouble or anything? Cause yous are closed.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes while beckoning him in. “C’mon, didn’t have you down as someone who follows the rules, McCann. Careful though, floor is still wet.”

“Oh, no, you’re dead right ‘bout that, love. Just I had you down as someone who always follows the rules.” Winking at you as he walks in, commenting how different the place feels at night.

“Anyways,” he turns back to you with a hum of your name, “Sorry that I scared you, don’t want ya to think I’m being weird coming here this late or anything, I was on me way home see, passing by and I found these on the ground outside..”

He holds up a hand, key chain around his finger and a Harley Davidson key ring you immediately recognize as Toby’s.

You cut him off, telling him they’re Toby’s, that he must have dropped them after locking you in earlier, and that he’s a fucking idiot. An entertained smile curving his lips at your mini rant.

“Sorry, been a long day.”

“Yeah, Julia mentioned you’d been having bad luck or sommat, tell me about it?” A hopeful glint in his eye, and you wondered if he had ever been denied anything in his life.

Ending up making him coffee and giving him leftover banana bread while you ran him through the dramatics of your day. He, like Julia, was shocked that you had never heard of the touch wood superstition.

“Sounds like you’ve been through it, love... then I show up and make it worse, eh?” Finishing his cake and his eyes find yours again.

“Yeah, something like that,” a teasing sort of lithe, the more you talked to him the more at ease you felt around him. It’s familiar.

“Alright, alright! See how it is!” His voice raising to a squeak, you laughed.

You wouldn’t let him pay for the coffee and banana bread, saying it was on the house for saving the shop from being robbed. He only shrugs and leans against the counter beside you. “Just means I’m gonna have to buy you one back, doesn’t it.”

“Thanks for the gesture, but I do get free coffee working here, y’know,” you tell him, already hearing Julia’s words about writing people off, but he was only being nice, wasn’t he?

“Fairs, I’ll buy ya one from a different place then, good to try out the competition innit?” Arms crossing while he looks at you, and you shake your head. Your cheeks aching from the permanent smile you had since he walked in, and you knew you’d cringe about that later tonight when you replayed the scene over in your head in bed.

“Only competition round here is Starbucks, and I don’t think Julia would let you step foot in here again if you buy anything from there.”

He laughs at that, telling you he was more thinking of crappy petrol station coffee. Something you scrunch your nose in disgust at, asking him if that’s all your worth to him. Drawing another laugh.

“C’mere I’d rather take you out for a pint, but m’sparing myself from the inevitable rejection and heartbreak,” he laughs, shaking his head. Your teeth sink into your lip, picking at loose skin on your thumb nail, practically hearing Julia screaming at you in your head.

“How long are you back for?” Finding yourself asking, though you never had before. Not something you ever talked about, questioned. He gives you a look, a smirk.

“Never talk about that do we, love?” He echoes your thoughts while digging in his pocket, ridiculously tight skinny jeans, until his pulls out the green little loyalty card. 8 empty stamp grids, his first one filled by Julia today. “But I’m gonna fill one of these eventually! Toby’s bet me a fiver that I won’t until I’m 30.”

You’re half tempted to ask him why he never called, or texted, or did anything with your number on the last card. Instead your mouth curls around telling him that you’d best lock up and get home. You’re knackered. He asks how you’re getting home, telling him you’re walking, that you only live 15 minutes away while he glances outside. Orange glow of streetlamps. It’s nearing 10, autumn weather starting to creep in.

“It’s dark out.” He states the obvious.

“And?”

“Love, I ain’t letting you walk home in the dark alone! Let me walk ya,” Exclaiming, typical Van fashion. Shaking your head, knowing his intentions were good but you were stubborn.

“Who are you, me dad? I’m more than capable of getting myself home, Van.” Teasing but firm, arching a brow at him. He tells you he’ll get you an Uber then, you repeat that it’s only 15 minutes home, that you’re walking. He only stares at you for a second or two, and you can’t hold it. Thankful that he’s obviously drunk and tired, because he gives in.

“Then at least text me when ya get home, yeah?” Curling his fingers for you to give him your phone, something you’re tempted to deny. But finding it endearing that he cares so much. Handing your phone over. He messes up his number twice.

Unexpectedly, he pulls you in for a hug before he leaves. All warm skin, and you realise you wish you could stay here talking shite with him for longer. All night even.

You watch him walk over to the door. “Right, night.. you’ll be here in the morning, yeah?” He glances back.

“Bright and early.” You confirm.

“Any cinnamon buns going?”

“Maybe, if you get in early enough.”

He laughs. “Right, night then. See ya tomorrow, Glasvegas. Text me, don’t forget!” He calls while he walks out and you grab your stuff to follow him out once you set the alarm.

Watching - he pretends to walk down stairs on the other side of the window before ducking under the shutter.

Leaving you to shake your head with an amused laugh. What a fucking day.

[archiesms]

the most beautiful thing

“have I told you lately that I’m grateful you’re mine?”

summary: the story of the beginning of forever 

word count: 7.5k

pairing: jaehyun x jihyun (oc) 

warnings: fluff, smut 

a/n: u guys know the drill hehe, original story here :] 

After being together for more than ten years, surprising a partner for their birthday doesn’t come without difficulty. Jaehyun remembered having headaches the days leading up to Jihyun’s birthday from trying to plan something special. Meanwhile, Jihyun lost sleep over what to perform for Jaehyun’s birthday.

It should be said that it wasn’t fair to her that Jaehyun didn’t expect anything for his birthday. He always told Jihyun not to waste her time considering they were both too busy to participate in anything usually, and while it was true, that didn’t mean Jihyun didn’t want to prepare any less. The truth was, the restaurant was always packed with customers on Valentine’s day even months before starting this past December. The only difference this Valentine’s day was that this was the year she was going to prove Jaehyun wrong and use this opportunity to prepare a surprise for her hardworking boyfriend.

The goal of the surprise was not only to spoil Jaehyun, but to also prove that she was good at being other things-- other things that included a title that rhymed with entree.

On the morning of Valentine’s day, Jihyun woke up early to sneak her way downstairs to prepare the cake she had bought the night before. Today was the only day she was going to spoil him with sweets before breakfast.

She shoved a candle through the pastry and made her way back up the stairs to their bedroom where Jaehyun was sleeping peacefully, squished in between two pillows. Jihyun gently pressed into him and snorted when he groaned, pushing her back into what would be on her side of the bed.

“Happy birthday to you,” she started quietly, “happy birthday to you.”

Jaehyun clenched his eyes and used his palms to rub at his eyelids before opening them to make eye contact with a slice of cake, “happy birthday dear Jaehyunnie.”

“Happy birthday to you,” Jihyun smiled, kissing his forehead and smoothing hair behind his ears as he struggled to sit up. “Make a wish, baby.”

Jaehyun gave a sleepy laugh before closing his eyes once more, thinking thoroughly about his wish before opening them again to blow out his candle, “Cake for breakfast?”

“Once a year can’t hurt.”

Jaehyun shared his cake slice with Jihyun to save room for actual breakfast, which actually consisted of traditional seaweed soup. If Jaehyun looked forward towards anything for his birthday, it would always be the soup Jihyun would make for him every year.

Like every year. Jihyun apologized for not being able to celebrate Jaehyun’s birthday properly the same way they did for hers. He reassured her over and over again that it wasn’t an issue and that he would most likely go out for dinner with his brothers anyway.

Except he won’t.

Because Jihyun already made plans.

After breakfast, the couple washed dishes while they took turns showering. Jihyun was the first to leave that morning, kissing her boyfriend on the cheek while he hastily toweled his hair. She reassured him that she would call him later during her short breaks if he wasn’t busy, to which Jaehyun replied with a hum and a sweet kiss before she left.

Jaehyun peaked out of the bathroom before he ran back into their bedroom, lifting the mattress topper and removing a small white box from the inside, sighing in relief when he saw the engagement ring still in place, safe from Jihyun’s curious eye.

Was it cliche to propose on Valentine’s day of all days? Of course it was, but if Jaehyun knew anything about Jihyun, it was that she was weak for cliches. That reason alone is why he constructed his own surprise dinner for when she came back home after work. He would have to leave work early himself to get the necessary groceries for what he had planned, but Jihyun surely wouldn’t come home until late tonight considering the date.

He snickered to himself at the idea of his plan and placed the ring in his front pocket, patting it gently to make sure it was safe before he left for work himself.

Later on in the day, after about four hours of strenuous work without a break, Jihyun finally managed to fight through the dreaded lunch rush, locking the front door and switching the sign to closed for lunch as her workers piled around for their lunch break.

Taeyong was the first to collapse in the nearest booth, huffing and propping his leg on a nearby chair while two other waitresses sat in the same booth, one putting her head on the table.

“If I see one more engagement proposal I’m going to jump off the roof,” one cried, her voice muffled against the table.

Jihyun laughed in response, hanging her apron up as she packed her things nicely in her bag.

“You’re not eating with us today, Chef? Another waitress asked, watching as Jihyun slung her purse over her shoulder.

Jihyun smiled and shook her head, “Not today.”

Taeyong grinned and nudged the waitress next to him with his elbow, “don’t you know? It’s Yuno’s birthday today.”

The waitress sighed and squished her face in between her hands, “oh yeah, I guess we should expect an announcement tonight too.”

“You need at least two weeks for a pregnancy announcement,” Taeyong snorted, dodging Jihyun’s pen as she cursed at him.

“I’m not getting pregnant!”

“So you’re not practicing?”

Jihyun narrowed her eyes and dashed over to choke her best friend until a line cook came around and spun her towards the door, a smile wide on his face as he patted her shoulder, “have fun, Chef Jihyun! We’ll be here waiting for either announcement and we’ll be happy to hear both!”

“I’m not--!”

“Have a good day!”

“But--!” Jihyun huffed as the line cook locked the door behind her again, waving with a dopey grin on his face before he walked off, leading Jihyun to roll her eyes a dn give a small laugh, waving to her workers in the window as she walked to her car, enjoying her newfound freedom. It had been a while since she last left work before the sun was down so she took the time to relish in the sunlight despite the bleary clouds it hid under.

There were a few spots she wanted to hit before she went home to cook Jaehyun his birthday dinner. The first spot would be near where her boyfriend worked, an underdeveloped area that was mostly construction and abandoned buildings, parking at a near garage before locking her car next to the only few expensive cars in the lot, ones that she recognized as Yuta’s black Portofino Ferrari and Mark’s stark white Range Rover.

Huh, she thought to herself. It wasn’t unusual to see them around town knowing that this was their main workplace, but to see both of them in broad daylight was a little surprising to her. She shook her head and continued to walk out of the parking garage with the same confidence as one of her boyfriend’s members would have, knowing that no one would dare pull her to the side or try anything suspicious--not anyone who knew who she was at least.

She was lucky enough to find people who didn’t know who she was today, however, as she passed by measly looking workers sitting outside on worn out lawn chairs, staring at Jihyun up and down with a sly look to her face.

Jihyun almost wished they said something. If there was something her restaurant employees didn’t know is that she loved power of any kind, so if there was someone that needed a lesson to be taught, she would happily be the cause of said reason. Jaehyun admitted that it scared it sometimes, but that it also undeniably turned him on. Jihyun grinned when she heard the whistle come behind her.

“Goodmorning, Miss!”

Jihyun kept walking, luring them closer to Mark’s looming figure in the background. She felt a hand on her shoulder as she removed her sunglasses, her face calm as she stared at the hand before looking at the person in front of her.

“Are you lost, Miss?”

“I don’t believe so,” she replied, gently shaking the hand off her shoulder and pressing her sunglasses back on her face. “Have a good day.”

“Are you looking for someone? I bet I can help you.”

“I don’t need your help. Thank you.” Jihyun smiled, continuing to walk towards her destination until she felt a hand on her again, this time on her forearm.

“Are you coming to see your boyfriend or something?”

“No, I’m here to see a friend.”

“You’ve got friends around these parts?”

“Don’t you think you’re asking too many questions?” Jihyun continued, looking the worker up and down.

“I’m just surprised to see a pretty, little--”

“Jihyun noona!” Mark called out, jogging towards her with a bright smile before he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “What are you doing here?!”

Mark paused when he saw her forearm being held, his eyebrows furrowing before he shoved the man in front of him, “do you have any idea who you’re grabbing right now?”

“Mark. it’s okay--” Jihyun almost wanted to pout. She didn’t get to play much longer.

“No it’s not,” Mark growled. “Just wait til I tell Jaehyun hyung about this-”

She clicked her tongue. No more fun if Jaehyun was finding out. “I promise it’s fine! Please don’t tell him, I’m here for a surprise anyway. It’ll ruin it if you tell him.”

“I didn’t mean anything! I’m sorry! I just thought she was lost--!”

“Shut up,” Mark rolled his eyes. “Do you think you can just call out for the boss' girlfriend like that?”

Jihyun scrunched her nose, “I’m more than that.”

“Right, sorry. Kim Jinho’s only daughter.”

Still belittling her to a man’s relative but at least he was trying. Jihyun patted his shoulder and leaned against it, “take care of it however you would like, Minhyung. I’m going inside to see Hera, but don’t tell Jaehyun. Tell him tomorrow.”

Jihyun thanked him quietly before waving towards the man in front of her with a smile, his eyes wide in fear. Surely nothing would happen to him, Mark was much kinder than her boyfriend when it came to occurrences like these. Jihyun could imagine the endless possibilities if it was Jaehyun, but Mark would surely only smack him a few times as a warning just to scare him.

Unless he was in a bad mood, then, Jihyun assumed, it would be a lot worse.

Jihyun entered a building without another peep from another gangster, all of them averting their gaze as the two at the door held the door open for her. She smiled a greeting before stepping inside and towards the elevator, watching the numbers on the screen rise as she reached the seventh level, stepping outside and walking down the hallway and stopping at the store front.

Sex shops were not unheard of in Seoul, but God forbid you were seen stepping inside one, or worse, working at one.

Hera, despite her degree in business administration, worked at one of these said sex shops. Even worse than that, she owned the place, becoming one of the biggest, best kept secrets of her own. From dildos, fuck machines to actual prostitutes for hire, Hera quickly became enraveled in the world of illegitemacy thanks to her quick affair with one Nakamoto Yuta who jump started her career.

Despite their relationship being cut short, it didn’t stop the other man from visiting to quickly relieve pent up stress, which appeared to be the case today considering a part-timer was at the register instead of her friend. Yuta’s car being in the garage suddenly made sense to her now.

“May I see your ID?” The girl at the register said.

Jihyun snorted as her ego inflated. It was good to know she still looked young despite her twenty-seventh birthday being around the corner.

As the presumed college student checked her ID, Jihyun looked around for her friend, receiving her ID with a smile and placing it back in her wallet.

“Is Hera around?”

“Um, I think she’s at the motel a floor above us.”

“Working or working it?” Jihyun grinned. She laughed upon watching the cashier blush. It was endearing, blushing about sex while you work in a shop chock full of it everywhere.

“She was with Mr. Yuta if that means anything.”

Jihyun clicked her tongue, her manicured fingernails tapping against the desk, “that could mean either one.”

“They left about an hour ago. Miss Hera said she wouldn’t be gone more than that.”

Finally, Jihyun smiled and nodded, quickly glancing at her name tag, “thank you either way, Hyoju. I’m going to look around! Let her know that I’m here when she comes back.”

Hyoju nodded and went back to looking at her phone, presumably to send said message to her boss.

Jihyun took her time looking around for her items. Nothing too terrifying save for the shibari rope and a few different balms she was curious about using. Jihyun shuddered at the thought, a small grin playing on her face.

“Do I want to know?” A familiar voice said behind her.

Jihyun turned her head around to give a knowing look to her friend, whose appearance is slightly more messy than usually. Jihyun rolled her eyes and embraced her friend with a small side hug, “Yuta oppa treating you well?”

“Best oral giver in all of Seoul,” she grinned.

“I’d like to argue,” Jihyun smiled, pushing Hera’s shoulder with her own.

“You and I both know I have no way of testing that,” Hera snickered. “What brings you here? Looking for something new?”

“Kind of. I was looking up some different things. Jaehyun liked tying me up a while ago, so I might just do that. I feel like it’s kind of boring.”

“You know he would bust just looking at you, right?”

Jihyun snorted, “I guess. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to try something fun.”

“Have you ever thought of tying him up?”

The thought has crossed her mind, but there was no way he would let her, not without telling him beforehand at least. Jihyun grimaced and tilted her head to the side pensively, “I don’t know...Yuno doesn’t seem like the type.”

“Are you kidding? Guys love having their hands tied up, just take a step further once you’ve done that, he won’t even get the chance to say anything.” Hera glanced inside of her basket and grinned, “those nipple balms by the way? I heard they work magic on the balls.”

Jihyun bit her lip and shifted her weight on her left leg, hating that she twitched at the thought. Hera noticed that she still wasn’t convinced, pulling her towards the vibrator section and picking out a small pill, winking at her friend as she placed it in her basket.

“It’s cliche, I know, but it’s remote powered. You’d be the one in control.”

“What if he doesn’t like it?”

Hera shook her head, “he’ll love it because he’s doing it with you, Gigi. You might want to draw the curtains in though.”

“Can’t imagine Jaehyun wanting people to see him a point of vulnerability,” Hera said after dropping her voice a few decibels to a small whisper. “But, he can be vulnerable, for you.”

Fuck Hera and her salemanship, who knows what would’ve became of her had she chosen an office salesmen job. Jihyun narrowed her eyes regardless, holding her basket close to her chest, “why do I get the feeling that you’re just trying to make buy things?”

“Because I am, duh. I’m a store owner,” Hera smiled. “But, I also want my best friend to have fun.”

Jihyun rolled her eyes, “fine. I’ll take it.”

“Nice!” Hera cheered, pulling her towards the register, “I’ll ring you out myself!”

With discreet bags, Jihyun left Hera’s store with a pep talk and a slap to her butt, causing her to yelp and rub her backside as she entered the elevator. She passed by the lowly gangster on her way back, a black eye and a busted lip with his eyes downcast when he saw her walking past. She smiled a greeting before she continued to pass by him, noticing that both Mark and Yuta’s cars were gone from beside her own.

When she arrived home, she quickly walked up the stairs and shoved the bags under their bed. Once she finished, she looked at the clock and panicked when she realized Jaehyun would be home in four more hours, running into the bathroom and yanking off her work clothes as quickly as she could in order to shower.

After shaving and hastily drying her hair, she prepared her skin for makeup, opting for a soft brown look as she pulled on the lingerie set she bought earlier this week. Pulling on her pink slip dress right after, she worked on her hair, rolling it into loose waves before she cursed at the time.

Now she only had two hours til Jaehyun came home.

Cooking dinner shouldn’t take that long considering Jihyun had prepared her mise en place earlier this morning, but she would’ve felt more comfortable having more time to prepare his other presents that were upstairs. Regardless of her nerves, she found her rhythm in the kitchen, effortlessly chopping, slicing, and cooking their meal until she finished an hour and a half later, giving her at least thirty minutes to set the mood with candle lighting and a few records Jaehyun kept in their living room. Just as she was going upstairs to prepare a few last minute things, she heard the front door open and close, a yawn resonating through the room while Jihyun smiled at his humming.

“What the fuck?” She heard him say to himself, confused to smell food until he walked into the kitchen with his eyes widened as soon as he made eye contact with Jihyun.

“Surprise,” she said quietly, raising her hands in the air as Jaehyun gave a shocked laugh. “Happy birthday again.”

Jaehyun shook his head, “I thought you were at work!”

“I left after lunch. I wanted to spend your birthday together because it’s been too long since we last did.”

Jaehyun gave a dopey smile, his dimples in full display as he pulled her in for an embrace, pecking her sweetly as Jihyun wiped lipgloss off his lips, “thank you.”

“Of course, baby.”

“This isn’t fair though,” Jaehyun pouted, “I was going to surprise you for Valentine’s day.”

“Oh? With what?”

“Dinner,” he snorted. “Maybe a bath.”

“Well,” Jihyun’s arms snaked around his neck, “maybe we can take a bath after I give you my present.”

Jaehyun grinned, his hands moving down her waist and resting on the small of her back, “something tells me that dinner isn’t my present.”

“You would be correct,” she beamed, pulling him in for another kiss before taking his hand and leading him towards the dining room table.

Dinner was eaten in a relatively quiet manner, though comfortable as the couple’s hands were clasped together--Jaehyun’s thumb running over her knuckles every so often as Jihyun kissed his. They let dishes soak for the night after they finished eating, opting to join each other for a dance in the living room.

Jihyun rested her head against his chest as they swayed back and forth, smiling to herself at Jaehyun’s gentle humming. His hand was holding her own on his heart, as if to give a silent reminder that it belonged to her, and that it always will. She couldn’t think of a more perfect moment, forgetting all about the other gift she had planned as all she wanted to do was be closer and closer to the man she loved, the love of her life.

Jihyun pulled away just slightly to kiss her boyfriend gingerly, the latter leaning in to receive the kiss with a small smile.

“I love you,” he said against her lips. Jaehyun pulled away momentarily just to say it again, “I love you, Kim Jihyun.”

“I love you, Jung Jaehyun,” she returned, her fingers resting on his cheek.

“Thank you for today. It means the world to me.”

Jihyun giggled, “it was just dinner, baby. We always have dinner together.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I’m any less grateful. I bet you were swamped at work today, but you still came home and did all of this for me for my birthday.”

“I just wanted to show you how much I appreciate you, that’s all.”

Jihyun closed the gap in between their faces as they shared another sweet kiss. Jaehyun sighed and pulled her close, almost feeling frustrated that they couldn’t be any closer as he fell back on the couch. Jihyun smiled and settled herself on his lap, their sweet, gentle kiss turning into one with more passion as the seconds passed.

Jaehyun groaned and pulled away, confusing Jihyun as he dug in his pockets, “--I can’t.”

“Huh?”

“I was going to wait for a better setting than our couch, but I really can’t hold it in.”

Jihyun furrowed her eyebrows as she watched the man in front of her retrieve a small box from his pocket, her eyes widening instantly, “Yuno?”

Her breathing caught in her throat as he opened it to reveal a large diamond ring that sparkled in the dim candle lighting.

“I love you, I really love you, Gigi. I can’t wait another day, another hour, minute, second without telling you that I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Jaehyun swallowed and began to feel his ears heat up, Jihyun caressing them as he continued. “I love you. I love you more everyday and I’ll love you more every day after that.”

“Marry me, Jihyun,” he said gently. “Won’t you marry me, baby?”

“Of course, I want nothing more,” she smiled, pressing her lips against his, “yes, yes, I’ll marry you.”

Jaehyun beamed, a smile so bright that it lit up the dark room as he slid the ring down her finger before kissing the ring, “perfect. Just like you.”

The couple reconnect their embrace quickly, kissing the other feverishly before Jihyun pulled away first, caressing the sides of his face as she kissed the very tip of his nose.

“Come upstairs with me.”

Jaehyun swallowed and felt his heart pound in his chest. After all these years, she still made him undeniably nervous. “Is it time for my second present?”

Jihyun nodded and bit her lip to contain her smile, failing as she giggled while they stumbled up the stairs, unable to keep their hands off the other as Jihyun squealed when Jaehyun ultimately picked her up in the end, throwing her over his shoulder before throwing her on top the bed.

Jihyun was breathless with laughter, her smile wide as she pulled Jaehyun on top of her, her legs fastening around his hips as she kissed him. Jaehyun pecked her lips before he began to undo his tie, throwing the spare fabric to the side before Jihyun picked it up again.

She pulled away for a moment, just to push Jaehyun on his back as she nervously began to start her plan, “I...I have this...plan…”

“A plan?”

Jihyun burned upon Jaehyun scrutiny, her now fiance staring at her curiously as she moved the tie over his eyes, “is this okay?”

“Am I allowed to know the plan?”

Jihyun shook her head, cursing to herself when she realized he couldn’t see her, “um, no. But, just trust me. Promise me to keep it on and that you won’t look?”

“I...promise.” Jaehyun sounded just as apprehensive as she did, but otherwise supportive as Jihyun continued with her plan.

She supposed it wasn’t too late for her to remove it and tell him to tie her up instead of him, but she wanted to do this. She wanted to do something different. Jihyun swallowed harshly and set the rope to the side for later use, instead opting to kiss Jaehyun again, warming him up as she began to peel his clothes off layer by layer,

For the time being, Jaehyun didn’t mind the makeshift blindfold. It heightened his senses everytime Jihyun kissed him everywhere that wasn’t his mouth. He tried to keep his sounds contained for the most part, but once Jihyun grazed his length, it was impossible for him not to let out a small gasp. It was embarrassing but not as embarrassing as his dick twitching when Jihyun kissed his forehead.

God, he thought to himself. What is wrong with me?

“Do you trust me?” Jihyun asked in his ear, her breath leaving goosebumps on the skin surrounding. She punctuated her question with a small squeeze to his length, a groan passing his lips.

“Yes,” he said quickly. He would’ve said fuck yes, but he didn’t want to sound any more desperate than he already was.

“I kind of...want to try something, but I’m only going to do it if you’re okay with it,” she explained with kisses to his chest. “Tell me your colors, please baby?”

Jaehyun burned under the blindfold, his ears surely a violent pink as he opened his mouth, “um, green is keep going...red is stop?”

“Perfect,” she cooed, kissing his collarbone. “I’m going to add one more, okay?”

Jaehyun nodded, groaning when he felt her hands on his bare length this time, pumping him earnestly. He took shaky breaths as he felt Jihyun’s lips next to his ear again, kissing the tip of said ear before she said her next instructions, “whenever you’re about to cum, can you say pink for me, Jaehyunnie?”

Jaehyun tilted his head back, breathlessly saying, “pink.”  

Jaehyun felt himself being pulled up and a weight on his lap, Jihyun kissing him sweetly as she hugged him tightly. Jaehyun felt that she was still clothed under him, slightly pouting as he bundled up her dress in his hands so as to remove it.

“You’re so cute,” she hummed against his lips. “You’re so good for me, baby, I love you so so much.”

Jaehyun didn’t know what was going on for him to deserve this much praise, but he had no idea up until now how much he loved it. He wanted to hear more, moving his hands to her pert bottom, taking handfuls as he moved the dress up to grab handfuls of it.

“Hold on,” she kissed him quickly, pulling away despite his groan.

“Where are you going?” He whined, moving his hands towards the blindfold in attempts to remove it before he felt his hands being held by her.

“You said you would keep it on,” she whined next. Jaehyun wanted to roll his eyes, he could see her pout.

“Fine fine,” he sighed. Her hands left his own as he felt something soft being bound around his wrists, his eyes widening behind the blindfold as he realized what was going on. His dick only got harder upon realizing that she was tying him up, but that it wasn’t stopping there.

Jihyun tried her best to make sure she hid her shaky hands, cursing silently to herself when the knot wouldn’t tighten the way she wanted. It took a few tries, but she managed to tie his hands together so that they were resting behind his back.

“Are you okay?” She asked timidly, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

“More than okay,” he smiled. “A little...embarrassing.”

“Now you know how I felt,” she teased, kissing his Adam’s apple.

“Maybe I’ll be a little more considerate next time.”

Jihyun scoffed, “maybe?”

She took just the smallest bit of balm on her finger, taking Jaehyun’s length in her hands again and pressing the balm just slightly on the underside of his balls, watching him jolt with a smile on her face.

“Fuck!” Jaehyun groaned, his exclamations cut off by another moan as the balm sent a warm tingle throughout his length.

Lastly, before Jihyun decided to remove the blindfold, came the ties around his member. Jihyun used a softer rope for this, watching Jaehyun squirm as she wrapped the rope around the underside before tying it off. She admired the color of it before she continued, her fingers just barely dipping into the tip.

“This isn’t fair,” he pouted, wriggling against his restraints. “I want to see you, I need to see you, baby.”

“Be patient, Yuno,” she cooed, pushing the straps of her dress down her shoulders and kicking it to the side of the chair. She began to open the vibrator in her hands, already having the app downloaded in advance before she quickly calibrated it.

Jihyun slowly inserted the vibrator inside of her, sighing quietly as she turned it on to a slight hum, just barely against her g spot before she moved over to Jaehyun again to remove his blindfold.

Jaehyun blinked at the sudden light and swallowed upon seeing her pale pink set, Jihyun showcasing the lingerie as his dick twitched again in it’s restraints, “oh my god.”

“Am I pretty?” She asked, a smile playing on her lips.

“Pretty is an understatement...a severe one.”

Jaehyun’s eyes wander down to the sound of a small buzzing, blinking as Jihyun sat in front of him, moving her underwear on the side to reveal the vibrator inside of her, buzzing gently on the command from her phone.

“What’s…?”

“I went to go see Hera, and she told me to get this cute little vibrator, apparently I can control it with an app…” Jihyun opened the said app, raising the intensity slightly and gasping. “I’d let you control it but...you don’t have any free hands.”

Jaehyun narrowed his eyes, “you’re evil. A demon.”

Jihyun laughed as she peeled off her underwear to give him a clear view, the intensity on the tiny pill getting higher as her finger slipped. She moaned out, her toes curling as she quickly turned it down, catching her breath as she watched Jaehyun all but drool.

“Untie me,” he ordered. Jihyun grinned and shook her head.

“No.”

“I think you should untie me.”

“I think,” Jihyun moved towards the head of his length, taking the tip in between her lips to give it a wet kiss, “you’re talking too much.”

Jaehyun was just beginning to feel the implications of the bondage on his member as Jihyun passed her lips past the tip of his length and inching towards the end, moaning loudly as the vibrations from her mouth sent shivers down his spine. He groaned and cursed without remorse, his hips thrusting into her mouth as she pressed him down, pulling away with a wet pop and she clicked her tongue.

“I hope you’re not forgetting your colors, baby,” she patronized, pressing wet kisses to his taut balls.

“Fuck you,” he groaned. Jihyun grinned and took his cock in her mouth in one fell swoop, gagging slightly as her throat tightened around his length, Jaehyun’s head thrown back as he swore. “Fuck, Jihyun, baby--”

“Am I doing good?”

“So good, so fucking good--” He frowned when she pulled away, watching her face constrict before he realized the vibrator was at it’s highest setting again. Jihyun sat up and on his lap, her hands resting on his stomach as she rubbed herself against his thigh, leaving a small wet spot as she clawed at the skin.

“Fuck, Jaehyun, holy shit--”

Jaehyun flexed his thigh and watched her rub against him with a sly smirk, Jihyun falling against his chest as she finally orgasmed, breathing heavily as the toy continued to hum inside of her. Jaehyun’s eyes fixated on her phone that was just in perfect reach of his foot, taking advantage of his fiancee taking a breather to use his free appendage to set the vibrator on it’s highest level again, watching Jihyun gasp as she again grabbed his waist.

“What are you--?!” Jihyun reached for the phone but jumped when Jaehyun kicked it nearly across the room, ready to release an indignant reaction before he trapped her in between his legs, another violent orgasm on it’s way as she was being overstimulated.

“Get off!” She begged, her hands clawing at his legs as her oversensitivity spiked. “Jaehyun, I can’t--I can’t--”

Jihyun whimpered and cried, sniveling against his stomach as she came again, her toes curling as Jaehyun finally released his hold on her, a grin on his lips as Jihyun glared at the man in front of her. She pulled the vibrator out from inside of her, whimpering slightly.

“Sorry,” he smiled.

Jihyun ignored him as she searched for the tie again, silently fuming as she searched far and wide. Jaehyun pouted and nudged her with his knee, “I said I was sorry.”

“Shut up.”

Jaehyun pressed his lips together and he followed his orders, pouting again when he was embraced by darkness once again, the tie being wrapped around his eyes. He felt her hover over him again, his upper teeth meeting his bottom lip.

“Gigi--”

Jihyun held his jaw closed, her lips ghosting over his lips once more, “what part of shut the fuck up don’t you understand?”

Jaehyun swallowed. If he wasn’t hard before he definitely was now.

“I try and do something nice,” she started, her hand trailing from his jaw down to his neck before it reached behind her to grab his cock. “And yet, you always find a way to make it about yourself.”

“But--”

“Stop,” she ordered. “You don’t get to say anything, okay, baby? All you get to say are your three colors, do you understand?”

Jaehyun nodded.

“What’s your color now, Yuno?”

“Green.” The brightest green. The loudest green, whatever green will make her touch him somehow.

“You like this, don’t you?” He heard her say, “you like showing everyone you’re in charge, that you’re in control...but you like being ordered just as much as the next man.”

“I guess it helps that you’re mine,” she breathed, kissing him sweetly, “and that I have you wrapped around my finger.”

Jaehyun wouldn’t argue that. He wouldn’t be in this situation if it were false.

“You belong to me,” she reminded, taking the length in her hand and gently running her hand up and down. “Right, baby?”

Jaehyun opened his mouth to reply, but quickly closed it in turn to nod instead. He could hear her smile.

“Good boy, good Jaehyunnie,” Jihyun cooed. “Do you want me to fuck me, honey?”

Jaehyun nodded again, his cock painfully hard and pulsating in Jihyun’s hands as she squeezed it.

“Do you think you deserve it though?” She asked carefully, snatching her hand away from him as she completely removed herself from him. Jaehyun groaned, his hips lifting from the bed as he tried to search for her desperately. Suddenly, he heard a familiar humming, but before he could pin the noise, it was being pressed against the underside of his balls.

“Fuck, Jihyun!”  

“Shh, Jaehyun. What did I say?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he moaned, his hips lifting off the bed again. “Pink, fuck, pink!”

Jihyun removed the toy from his length at the very last minute. Jaehyun took shaky deep breaths as she caressed his thighs with the toy, watching Jaehyun twitch anytime the vibrator came in close contact to his cock.

“You never answered my question, Jaehyun,” Jihyun hummed, lowering the intensity before pressing it to the tip of his cock, just barely humming against skin but enough to make the man under her writhe. “Do you think you deserve my pussy, baby?”

Jaehyun nodded fervently. Please please please, he begged internally.

“Sit up.”

He did as he was told, sitting up against the headboard as he felt something wet on his length again, presumably her mouth judging by the way it closed and the way her humming made him moan.

“I’m still thinking about it,” she said, pressing kisses into the hot skin. “I’m so wet, no thanks to you, I swear to God I thought I would squirt if you left the vibrator on any longer. Good thing you didn’t.”

Goddammit, Jaehyun thought to himself.

“But,” Jihyun caressed his cheeks as she once again, removed the blindfold from his face. What met her were blown out pupils, watching her own with wonder, with anticipation, and the most notably love, absolute, head spinning, foolish love. Jaehyun was smitten with the woman above him and there was nothing he could do about it.

Jihyun sighed, “but...I guess I can be a little forgiving.”

Jaehyun smiled widely, still not allowed to speak as he pressed his lips against her wrist, a small gesture of gratitude.

Jihyun leaned in to press her lips against his for what felt like the upteenth time, reaching behind her once again to press his length into her expectant folds, Jaehyun pulled away to moan loudly, his eyes tightened as he tilted his head back. Jihyun started slowly, her hips barely moving against his but breathing quite heavily, their lips connecting every so often for quick pecks as Jihyun gradually picked up the pace.

Jaehyun nudged his head against the bra that was barely on her anymore, using his teeth to signal for her to take it off before Jihyun got the message, a smile on her face as she reached behind her to play with the clasp, removing it and tossing it to the side before holding her fiance’s face close to her chest. Jaehyun took it as a sign to do what he wished then, biting and sucking anywhere he could reach before he took a nipple in between his lips, looking up at Jihyun who mewled at the touch.

Jaehyun wouldn’t last any longer like this, but he wanted to keep going, he didn’t want to dream about pulling away but once his orgasm loomed dangerously over his head, he pulled away from Jihyun’s breast to kiss her sternum.

“Pink,” he breathed, shuddering as Jihyun continued to move her hips against his. Jaehyun moaned loudly, “pink, pink, pink--”

“Oh!” She quickly realized, pulling out and watching Jaehyun writhe under her, groaning loudly as he huffed in response, his head spinning.

“Are you okay?” Jihyun asked quietly, a small sign of tenderness and a dash of regret as she watched him in concern. Jaehyun smiled weakly, nodding with a kiss to her shoulder.

“Green,” he replied, welcoming Jihyun’s kiss as he felt his cock press against her pussy once more, his eyes fluttering closed as he felt Jihyun follow the rhythm once more.

Again, Jaehyun would chant out pink until Jihyun pulled away, watching him squirm for a few minutes until she would ride him again and again.

Around the forth time of edging him, Jihyun switched the position slightly so that she was facing away from him, giving him a clear view of her back as she started with an aggressive speed this time, her hips working to send him over the edge as he chanted out his color again. He had little regard for these rules this time as he realized Jihyun did too, chanting out her name and praises as she continued to slam her hips against his.

“Fuck Gigi,” he gasped, his hips meeting hers with his own thrust, “Jihyun, baby, I’m going to cum--fuck, oh baby, baby, baby--”

Jihyun pulled away but it seemed it would be far too late as Jaehyun came with a flash of white, his moans and curses falling from his lips like prayer as Jihyun was the Goddess he prayed to. With a dry orgasm ruining his high, all he could do was whimper and thrash against his restraints.

“So pretty,” Jihyun praised, kissing his chest. “Dry orgasm, honey?”

Jaehyun’s face felt hot in both embarrassment and need, nodding his head dumbly as Jihyun moved to remove the restraints around his cock. He wanted to cry when he finally felt the rope off of his length, and he thinks he might’ve, considering the space around the corner of his eyes was slightly damp.

“I love you,” he mumbled, still feeling stupid from his orgasm as his head tilted around, “I love you, please let me touch you.”

Jihyun snorted, “turn around.”

Jaehyun did as he was told, feeling something cold against his skin that he recognized as scissors cutting at the rope. Jihyun saved his hands for last, tossing the scissors to the side as she rubbed the rope marks on his wrists before kissing them gently.

“Are you okay, Yuno?” She asked softly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes after Jaehyun pulled her in for an embrace, holding her tightly against his chest.

“More than okay,” he reassured, “you’re amazing.”

Jihyun smiled and wrapped her legs around his waist as it was his turn to hover over her this time. She watched him expectantly, a smile wide on her face as he took his time to caress every square inch of her body, every mole and freckle.

“My turn?” He asked carefully, watching her reaction through his lashes.

Jihyun smiled and nodded, “your turn, baby. All yours.”

The rest of the night was spent with Jaehyun’s great attention to detail, making sure to press kiss to every inch of Jihyun’s body with his hand trailing over it not too long after it. She felt dizzy from the attention and the love, eventually pulling Jaehyun in for a kiss as they spent it in close proximity. Even if their lips weren’t connected, they were always trailing over the other, sweet breath fanning in the other’s face as smiles and quiet laughter was shared.

Even at the end of the night and into the early morning, Jaehyun refused to remove himself from her, opting to fall exhausted in her chest with a sigh, his eyes fluttering closed upon feeling her fingers carting through his thick hair, a small smile on his lips upon feeling the engagement ring just slightly brush against his scalp. He could die here, and he wouldn’t have any complaints.

Despite how tired the two were, neither of them seemed to be falling asleep. Although Jaehyun’s eyes were closed, he remained awake as he opened his eyes every so often to make idle chit chat with his now fiancee, who seemed just as restless as him.

Just as the sky was beginning to lighten, Jihyun offered to wash up quickly, causing Jaehyun to frown at the suggestion but following close by anyway, realizing that he didn’t like being as sticky as he felt and falling into the tub with Jihyun. It wasn’t until he was submerged under the hot water that he realized how sleepy he was, struggling to keep his eyes open as Jihyun mumbled musings pressed against his chest. It was only worse when she shampooed his hair, dozing off completely. He remembered hearing Jihyun snort but he didn’t hear anything else until he woke up again, already wrapped in a towel as she tugged at him from outside the bathtub.

“C’mon,” she smiled, offering him a towel. “Unless you want to sleep with the tub instead of your fiancee.”

Jaehyun couldn’t help but to smile back, the word sending his heart into hysterics as he took her hand. It seemed that the sheets were also changed while he was asleep, the fitted sheets thrown over the corners haphazardly as they fell into the bed. Jaehyun almost instantly curled into her, causing her to laugh as she kissed the crown of his head.

“You’re so clingy,” she giggled as Jaehyun threw his leg over her waist. “Why are you so obsessed with me?”

“Because you’re perfect,” he muttered, more asleep than awake. He heard Jihyun say something else before he fell asleep but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. He assumed it was a declaration of love but before he could tell her back, he fell asleep, not a single dream to be had.

The next morning the couple washed dishes next to each other, chatting about their plans for the day before Jihyun excused herself to get ready for work, drying her hands on the nearest towel before reaching for her ring. Jaehyun watched her with a smile as she slipped it on her finger. She noticed the attention and laughed, pinching his cheek.

“What?”

“I just think it’s pretty,” Jaehyun gushed, taking her hand and kissing her ring finger. “Are you going to wear it to work?”

“I’ll wear it to work, but I’m not allowed to keep it on while I’m in the kitchen.”

Jaehyun frowned, “but you’re the boss. You can make up rules.”

Jihyun laughed, “they aren’t rules, they’re food safety regulations. What if my diamond falls in someone’s food?”

“Then I’ll buy you another one.”

Jihyun rolled her eyes, “how about this? If you’re so keen on showing me off, we’ll go out this weekend? Then you can show me off all you want.”

“Sounds like a date,” Jaehyun beamed, kissing her forehead. “We should also probably tell your dad.”

Jihyun snorted, wrapping her arms around his neck, “did you not give him a warning?”

Jaehyun smiled sheepishly, answering Jihyun’s question without another word.

“You’re a brave man, Jung Jaehyun. I’d hate to become a widow before I’d ever get married.”

“I was going to wait but...it was the heat of the moment.”

Jihyun laughed and rolled her eyes before giving her fiance a kiss, “you’re so corny.”

[anari3l]

Far Away pt 3

words: 1387 /// pairing: cullen bohannon x reader /// summary: you wake in the morning after spending a night with cullen and find you don’t really want to leave. /// notes: got a comment on ao3 asking if i was gonna continue this, so ...

You were content. 

Content, comfy, and utterly happy. 

It had been too long since you had felt this way. The loss of your daughter and husband had almost killed you. 

Cullen had lost his wife, son, his home to the war, and had waged a revenge plot that had sent him searching across the country before dropping him in the middle of a railroad camp. 

Two sad souls had gravitated towards one another. 

Laying in his arms, the morning sun warming the side of your canvas housing, you felt content. As if the hardships the two of you had faced over the years could be healed from. Both of you knew this relationship was maybe not the best idea. Cullen had too much on his plate now, running the railroad. His work kept him out on long days at the cut, or had him spending hours in his office, pouring over the paperwork Durant was once in charge of and oh so good at. 

Cullen belonged out there. With the workers. Risking his own life alongside them. 

Which, admittedly, you felt very scared off. Your husband had died during construction of that damned trellis bridge over the river. You couldn’t bear the thought of Cullen dying out there too. 

But laying in his arms, you could forget about all that for a little while. You could press your ear against his chest, listen to the steady heartbeat beneath, and just be there with him, even if the moment would be lost in a few moments when duties called.

Cullen hummed, a short chuckle leaving his throat as he lay beneath you, arm curled around your shoulders and hand brushing along your hair. “What are you thinkin’?” he asked.

You shrugged, adjusting as you lay beside him on the small bed. “You. Us. This railroad.”

“Hmm.” He paused, hand raising to run through his own hair before falling back to your shoulder. “Anything in particular?”

“You and the General,” you hummed, relaxing into his embrace. “How you’re gonna fight Durant this time …” 

“He’s gonna try to pull everythin’ out to get his railroad back,” Cullen sighed. “We gotta fight for it.”

“We will,” you smiled, pushing up onto your elbow. “You, me, Elam, even the General … we’re with you, Mister Bohannon.” 

Cullen laughed, eyes closing as you spoke his name in a forced accent reminiscent of Durant’s. 

You smiled down to him, watching as he laughed at your mimicry. 

He was content. 

Content, comfy, and utterly happy. 

It had been too long since you had seen Cullen smile a genuine smile, or laugh a hearty laugh. 

“Alright, Mister,” you sighed, shoving his chest playfully before leaning in and kissing him. “Up you get. You’ll be late for work.”

Cullen stepped out of your tent a bit later, fully dressed, hat in hand, and stood for a moment on your small stoop. The morning fog blanketed the prairie, casting an eerie gloom over the town as the sun rose over the distant hills. As you stepped outside beside him, tying the apron around your waist, he turned to you, fidgeting with his hat as if he was a child, too nervous to ask a question. 

“Why … we should …” he started, dropping his gaze to his hat. “We should have a picnic,” he finally managed after a few moments of silence. “Today. For lunch.”

“A picnic?” you prodded, folding your hands in front of you. 

“A picnic.” He placed his hat on his head with a nod, his smile returning. “After my meeting with Grant,” he started once more. “A picnic. You and me, and all the daisy chains you can make.”

You smiled brightly. “I would like that very much, Mister Bohannon.”

“I would too,” he smiled. 

***

You didn’t know how he managed it, but you couldn’t put it past him. He was Cullen after all. Hell on Wheels loved him. 

Mickey and Sean had pulled together two bottles of alcohol, Ruth and Eva had pitched in food, and Cullen had packed it all into a sideboard and rolled up to the infirmary tent with a very smitten look on his face. 

“Well,” you smiled as you watched Cullen jump from the wagon bench. “This is a surprise. I had thought you meant a lunch date on the steps of your train car as a picnic.”

“Now,” he smiled, “I did promise you daisy chains,” he joked. “We’ll disappear for a while. Get away from camp.”

“Then,” you sighed, untying your apron and draping it over the wooden chair on the stoop of the infirmary tent. “It would be a pleasure.”

You couldn’t help but feel like a young girl again as you rode beside Cullen on the wagon bench. He stayed mostly quiet, but you could tell whatever tension he had been carrying since the Board arrived had lessened a bit. He seemed at ease, and calm. Able to forget about his duties for a moment and get away. 

Not too far from Hell on Wheels, still close enough to hear the echoing of pick axes and hammers on the line, Cullen stopped the wagon at a small grouping of trees. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I would say Mister Bohannon has done this before,” you smiled, taking his hand as he helped you from the wagon. “Your wife must have been the luckiest woman.”

He nodded, a bit shyly as you brought up the mention of his wife, but the two of you knew each other well enough to not find the topic awkward. 

“She didn’t enjoy daisy chains quite as much as you do,” he smirked. 

The day was nice. A perfect day for a picnic under a tree. You let Cullen lay his head on your lap as you threaded daisies together, smiling as he watched you.

“What is it?” you asked, focused on the tiny flower stem you were braiding into the chain. 

Below you, Cullen just watched you, his blue eyes affectionate as he laid against your lap. “When I met you all in Omaha … Were you planning on coming back? Before I asked?”

 You stayed silent for a moment before lowering your hands, draping the daisy chain over Cullen’s head to drape around his neck as he sat up, leaning against his arm. 

“No,” you answered. “Before I … Before you found me, I was … I was planning on going back to Savannah. Find my family. Start anew.” You sighed, looking down to your hands. “After the war, James came home to me. He came home, and we promised we would make a new life together, he’d find a job, and we’d be well off. After losing him … I … i couldn’t stand the thought of this railroad anymore, and when I heard there were talks of shutting down … I … thought about it.”

Cullen nodded, meeting your gaze with his intense, but somehow, saddened look. Bowing his head, looking down to the daisy chain you had draped over his neck, he nodded. “I’m glad you came back.”

“I’m glad you came back,” you repeated, emphasizing your words as you poked him on the shoulder. “When I saw you had survived the winter, were meeting with the Board in NEw York … when I learned you were trying so hard to keep the railroad going, I was … so happy.” 

“You don’t have to stay, you know,” he started, voice low as he sat up, resting his arm against his raised knee. 

“Yes I do,” you smiled, sitting forward. 

“You don’t,” he pressed. “This is Hell. Literally. I … I would hate to lose you to it.”

You pressed a kiss to his cheek, running a hand through his hair as you brushed it from his face. “You’re gonna have to find someone else to put up with your crap if I leave, and honestly, not many people can,” you smiled. 

He turned to face you with a broad smile on his face. “True.”

“I … I love you, Cullen.”

His gaze shot back up to yours at the words, his eyes wide at the confession. “I …. “

“I thought you should know,” you mumbled, turning away. 

“I love you too,” he responded, hand on your cheek as he leaned in, kissing you.

[petroltogo]

Survived the first week of lockdown. Here’s a couple of lessons I’ve learned about this whole being stuck at home for the foreseeable future thing:

It’s important to have your own space when you’re stuck with family. If possible we stay in different rooms to work during the day and don’t get in each other’s way as much as we can.

Coffee is a lifesaver and I’m not sure what I’d do without our machine. 

Calling people is important.

Listen, I hate calling people. Just don’t like it. But. Yes, chatting is good. Emailing is good. But it’s not the same. To create that feeling of actual social interaction, of connecting with others, calling is incredibly important. Video-chatting is even better. [Finally got my SO to try it cause they’re even more reluctant about these things than I am. But it really helps to give you that feeling of closeness and make you feel less isolated and cut-off.]

Reaching out to people right now is important. This whole being stuck in isolation thing is really hard on mental health, particularly for people who were already struggling before.

Sticking to your routine as much as possible is also very important. Get up in the morning. Shower. Put on some make-up. Dress nicely. [Casual unless you like hanging out at home all day in fancy clothes, it’s totally cool if you do. I admire you, but I’m sticking to comfortable pants.]

Have regular meals. If you’re not alone like me, we eat lunch and dinner together at our usual times and breakfast on the weekends. That regularly “timed” interaction also helps because then you can avoid each other again for the next few hours so you’re feeling close but you’re also not constantly stepping on each other

Talk about the situation. Not like anyone seems to talk about anything else, but the people who are stuck with you have to deal with the exact same situation. They understand you. More importantly, if you are stressed, things are bothering you and you’re bottling it all up, these people are gonna notice anyways, cause they’re constantly around you. Communication helps keep friction down.

Play a board game. I’m constantly sitting in front of a screen, this change of scenery feels nice.

If you have a dog, pet the dog.

If you have a cat, feed the cat. [They’ll demand attention and petting anyways, as is their just payment for gracing you with their presence.]

Indulge in virtual coffee breaks, virtual aperitifs, virtual gaming nights, whatever. Keep those contacts going. Humans are social beings, whether we’re more introverted or more extroverted.

Limit your news intake. At the start, while waiting for official lockdown announcement [which hasn’t actually happened yet, but all non-essential businesses, schools etc. are shut down and gatherings with more than five people are forbidden, so we’re steadily getting closer] I kept refreshing the news constantly. But there’s staying informed and then there’s getting sucked into that depressing doomsday-everythings-over mindset. So now I stick to informing myself once a day and otherwise avoiding the subject as much as I can and focusing on other things.

[When outside for the shortest period of time possible, be friendly and understanding and kind. To everyone, but particularly to grocery store workers. They deal with enough.] 

Do the best you can and if that doesn’t work, read fanfiction. And no, I will not be taking constructive criticism on my coping mechanisms at this point.

[heliads]

Secret Identity Chapter 1: Dear Stars,

Y/N L/N had three constants in her life: her best friend she met through email, a constant dislike of a boy from her school named Peter Parker, and her life as the hero Phasma, fighting crime with Spider-Man. However, her constants may have more in common than she realized…

series masterlist / next

Y/N is sick of waiting for the notification. She sent her last email only a few hours ago, and, she admits, she had grown a little spoiled from the constant back-and-forth emailing that she was used to during the night. Emails slowed down during the day, she knew that, but she couldn’t help but check every few minutes. Just in case.

When the message finally comes, she can’t help a smile spreading across her face. Sender: science_tech03@gmail.com

Dear Stars,

Sorry it took me so long to respond. I guess I was too tired- I fell asleep the second I closed my eyes for longer than a second. Not that it means you’re boring, just that I need to stop procrastinating and get to bed. 

Speaking of sleep, you won’t believe what happened in class the other day. Our teacher fell asleep while he was grading our tests- can you imagine? I thought only students were allowed to do that. Crazy.

Your friend,

Sci

Y/N reads the email happily. She had met Sci online a few months earlier. They both had the same interests- science, Iron Man, bonding over the dorkiest things you could imagine. He never failed to make her laugh. Quickly, she leaned over her computer, hoping to send him a quick message before heading off to school.

Sender: starry-sky@gmail.com

Dear Sci,

Your teacher sounds fun. Does he fall asleep while teaching or just while grading? One of my teachers is no better, I don’t think he can teach without drinking half a pot of coffee. 

Also, go to bed! You need your sleep. Actually, I don’t mean that- who would I talk to at 3am? I’m no better than you at healthy sleep schedules. But seriously, get some rest. 

Anyways, I’m about to lose my mind studying. Have you taken physics? I’m assuming you have. I despise it. When am I going to need to calculate the trajectory of anything? Who uses the word trajectory outside of physics? AAAAAA.

Bored as always,

Stars

Y/N reads her email over once more before hitting send. Sometimes, she wishes she could meet Sci face to face, wishes she could talk to him in person about anything and everything. Email was fun, but it wasn’t the same. Regardless, she was still grateful to have him there. A friend waiting on the other side of her battered laptop screen.

The streets of New York are bustling as always, and Y/N weaves past stores and construction workers to finally reach her high school. Midtown, with its high brick walls and clusters of talkative students, was home. In a way. Y/N walks up until she sees her best friend, Megan. They talk as they head in, stopping at their lockers to grab their books before walking over to their respective classes. 

At lunch, they sit with some other friends and talk about their weekends. Megan, always the socialite, had found some party on the opposite side of town and excitedly shared the details of her latest outing. While listening to the details of her outfit (woo-hoo, red miniskirt!), Y/N let her eyes drift across the cafeteria. With distaste, she notes that Peter Parker and his best friend, Ned, are staring at their table again.

“Oh come on, Y/N. Stop glaring at Parker.” Megan nudges her, causing Y/N to snap her focus back to the lunch table. 

“Look, he doesn’t have to keep staring at us! It’s weird!” 

Megan laughed. “He’s got a crush on one of us, so what? It’ll fade in a week or two.” 

Y/N sighed exasperatedly. “I just don’t like him! He broke Liz’s heart, remember? I don’t know why he wants to do it again with one of us.” 

Megan turned back to her lunch. “Oh, come on. Liz moved a while ago. Can’t you just let him pine in peace?” She starts giggling, and Y/N can’t help but join in. 

“Noooo! This is a pining-free zone!” With that, they both start laughing.

When school is over, Y/N can’t help but run. Her feet pound on the sidewalk as she makes her way back to her apartment. The sooner she finishes her homework, the sooner she can put on the suit that’s calling her name. Physics goes slower than she had hoped, but it’s over before too long, and she races over to the closet and pulls back the bag hidden in the very back. Inside is her suit- the durable but lightweight armor, the firebolt logo on the chest, the hooded mask. She puts it on quickly, then climbs out the window. Now, she is Phasma.

She makes her way up to the rooftop with the help of her powers. The first time she used her powers, the energy bolts that shot from her hands had scared her, but now, they were just another tool in her repertoire. 

She just makes it to the top of the building when she hears a familiar voice. “It took you long enough to get up here. I was almost thinking you weren’t coming.” 

“Oh, come on. Don’t give me that. You know I’ll be here. It’s not my fault homework takes forever.” She turns to face her partner, the one and only Spider-Man. 

“Have you considered just doing it faster?” Spider-Man is laughing, and so Y/N shoots a small energy bolt at him. 

“Hey! Phasma!” He shoots a web at her in return, but she dodges it just in time. 

“You’re wasting your webs, you know that? I don’t have to make the bolts.”

Spider-Man waves a dismissive hand at her. “You deserved it.” 

They laugh, then turn to the city. “I’m bored. Where’s some good crime when you need it?” Y/N complains, kicking at the loose rubble on top of the building. 

Spider-Man shoves her, laughing. “Are you really hoping for crime? You’re supposed to stop it, not cause it!” 

“I’m just bored!” She melodramatically clasps her hands in front of her heart. “I am a hero forever, no matter what!” They both laugh.

When Y/N crawls in through the window of her apartment later that night, she immediately collapses in a chair. Her wish came true- she and Spider-Man helped stop a few muggings and some general misdoings. Her exhaustion is interrupted only by the quick ding of her email, which causes her to immediately sit back up.

Sender: science_tech03@gmail.com

Dear Stars,

Ha! You can’t tell me to go to bed if you don’t get any sleep yourself! This is hypocrisy at its finest. And besides, I do go to sleep. Is it when I should? No, but it is sleep.

Sorry about your homework. Physics is, well, physics. Just stumble through it as best you can. That’s what I did.

Also, I realized this is our three month email-iversary. Can you believe I’ve known you for a quarter of a year? Feels like forever.

Miss you,

Sci

Y/N’s eyes hover on the ‘Miss you’ for a few seconds longer than necessary, and a glowing smile settles across her face.

Sender: starry-sky@gmail.com

Dear Sci,

It’s yet another night that she’ll fall asleep to the click of her keyboard.