#but one of my coworkers is from the south and she says it all the time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fadingdaggerr · 5 months

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would that i

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: melissa knew what love should look like, and learned what it shouldn’t be. learning what it actually is takes time | 3.4k

translations: nonna/nonno (grandma/grandpa), t’amu (i love you) | reminder that sicilian is slightly different from italian in dialect

warnings: allusions to cheating (minimal), allusions to unhealthy relationships (minimal), making up my own melissa lore bc i’m so normal about her, kissing/making out

note: a little bit of this was an homage to my grandparents, the people that showed me what love should be. thank u and love u

When Melissa was in sixth grade, her teacher assigned a two-page essay on what they thought of when they pictured love. The moment Mrs. Erikson said this, Melissa knew she was going to write about her Nonna and Nonno.

Every morning, Nonna made breakfast and coffee, she packed Nonno’s lunch, and always left a note that said T’amu in her flowy cursive. Every evening, Nonno brought in the laundry off the line and folded it while Nonna made dinner. Even when they fought, there was never a loss of their kiss good morning, goodbye, and good night. Only on anniversaries was Nonno allowed in the kitchen, and they’d dance while sauce simmered on the stovetop. Love between them seemed easy and gentle. Melissa spent every Saturday night and Sunday morning across the street at their house, and every time she found something to add to her list of what love looked like and how it should be.

Melissa thought she had found love with Tommy Adkins in eighth grade. She’d even bought a new dress to wear to autumn formal, pink and ruffled and perfect. By the time she was ready to leave, her face almost hurt from the amount of times she redid her makeup so that Tommy would call her beautiful instead of bangin’ for once. That night she watched him dance with Jennifer Milano with a half-baked excuse of him “not wanting to kiss a chick with braces.” Melissa cried for two hours while Nonna told her she was better off, a bowl of pastina pushed her way. She forgot about him by the time Monday rolled around.

High school boyfriends came and went, but in college Melissa fell in love for the first time. A true, deep love with a firefighter-in-training that knew her neighbor. Everytime Joe visited Brian, he stopped across the hall to see Melissa, leaned against the doorway with an easy smile. He was charming, respectful, and funny, everything she had been looking for. Two months after she graduated, he dropped to one knee and she jumped into his arms. They moved from their apartment to a home in south Philly. Melissa worked during the day, and Joe started night shifts at the fire station for the extra pay.

Night shifts began to extend, and Melissa never saw him. He’d eat the plate she’d prepared in the fridge and leave the dirty dish on the counter. Dirt and ash from his boots tracked across her rugs and carpets, scuff marks in her living room. What almost killed her was the dirty cast iron skillet left in the sink. When she brought anything up, he’d deflect and leave. Every now and then, he came home with flowers “just because.” But then flowers began to follow every extra long night, and she could smell the floral perfume that didn’t belong to her and didn’t match the flowers. It took her months to say anything, and all she was met with was eyes that couldn’t look at hers.

Melissa began to think that what her grandparents had could never be hers. A loving life was in the cards, and Joe had only solidified this. She stayed at Barbara’s that night.

—

A few years later, her perspective was changed when a new fourth grade teacher joined the staff mid-term. Never in her years had she allowed someone in so easily, allowed them to be her friend and not just a coworker. Somehow, in two years, Melissa realized she’d never felt so cared for and loved by anyone.

—

“Is there a chance I could pour a cup of coffee before you start bursting my ear drums?” Melissa says when Jacob and Janine start babbling behind her about something she didn’t care about at 7:30 on a Friday morning. Ever since she turned onto the street the school is on, a headache had been growing steadily. Staying up late to finish grading was the worst idea she’s had all month. The two teachers cringe slightly, lowering their volume. When the door opened again for you and Barbara to enter chatting with each other, volume lowering at the sight of Melissa sat at the table with fingers pressed to her temples. She hears a bag drop on the table quietly, opening one eye to see you trying to be as quiet as possible as you dig around.

When you finally stop, you pull out a bottle of ibuprofen and pass it to her. She waves it off, muttering a don’t need it. When you don’t reply, she peers up to see you still holding the bottle out with an expectant look on your face. You shake the bottle, “don’t suffer just to look tough.”

“Melissa Ann, take the damn pills,” Barbara orders from her seat, spooning some sugar into her coffee.

“I don’t need ‘em,” she mumbles out again.

You push your hand forward more, “please. If not for yourself, for your students. You’re irritable when you have a headache.” Barbara chuckles and sends a knowing look to Melissa. Janine and Jacob, on the other hand, turn and look at you, fully expecting the red head to make some harsh reply or threat back to you. All she does is puff out a laugh and grab the bottle from your hands. She decided not to remark on the weird looks she was getting from the peanut gallery.

When getting the kids ready for recess, she sees you peering around the corner to the doorway. She holds a finger to ask you to wait, and gets a double thumbs up in return. After zipping many jackets and helping with gloves, she watches the little eagles run outside in the chilly autumn air. As she walks back into her classroom, she sees you sitting in her chair waiting patiently for her. “You know, I don’t let anyone sit in my seat,” she jokes as approaches.

“Good thing I’m not just anyone, now am I?” you joke, standing to meet her.

She fights her smile as she answers quietly, “no, you’re not.” She takes a second to breathe when she sees a grin cross your lips at her comment, “we still on for dinner at mine tonight?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” the grin on your face growing, the giddy feeling in Melissa’s chest with it. You loop your arm with hers and walk towards the lounge.

When Melissa opens the front door, you expect a greeting, but instead you get a groan as she stomps back to the kitchen. Dropping your bag and shrugging off your coat, you walk into the kitchen, placing the box of pastries on the table. Melissa returns to angrily rummaging through the refrigerator, desperately trying to find something. It wasn’t until two hands pulled her back by the shoulders, turning her around. She relaxes into your touch, closing her eyes.

“I’m out of basil,” she says through a sigh.

“Want me to go to the store?” you ask, wanting to remove any stress from her.

“No,” Melissa answers as she opens her eyes, “you just got here, that wouldn’t be fair.”

You laugh, “we could go together. Or we can just be lazy, order a pizza, and not get off the couch.”

“Second one,” she sighs out, pulling away to clean up the dishes she took out. While she’s distracted, you take the time to call in the order, pay, and tip over the phone so that Melissa won’t even have the chance to say herself.

“If there’s pineapple on there, I’m kicking you out,” she yells from the kitchen after she hears you hang up.

“No, veggie. And yes, I asked for no mushrooms. One of these days though, I’ll convert you to being a pineapple woman,” you joke tilting your head back to see her standing behind you, “plus, you wouldn’t dare kick out the person who brought you zeppole.”

She gets closer, leaning over with her hands holding the backrest on either side of your head, “is there chocolate sauce?” The excitement was evident in her tone, bringing butterflies to your stomach. You can’t form words with her standing over you and smiling like that, so you just nod.

Later into the night, the TV played Weeds while you sat in comfortable silence, only breaking it when you both repeated the same joke out loud every now and then. Your legs were thrown over her lap, her fingers playing with the folding fabric of your jeans as she watched the screen. Her subconscious drew her attention toward you, eyes tracing over smile lines and the glowing reflection in your eyes from the TV. She watches you lean forward to grab a zeppole, ready to offer it to her. It’s only then that you catch her stare.

“You okay?” you ask, turning and scooting closer to give her your full attention.

She gives a quick squeeze to your leg, “yeah, hon. I’m better than okay.” She feels even better when you lean into her, placing your head on her shoulder. She drops her head to yours, a deep breath leaving her as she finally relaxes fully for the first time all day.

—

Some time between then and now, things had changed, Melissa wasn’t exactly sure when. At some point the Friday dinners turned into Saturday plans, then Sunday since the farmer’s market was open, no other reason. Breakfast on those days translated to bringing coffee to each other at work, ignoring the questioning gazes of other staff members as she passed you your coffee, despite having never asked how you took it. What had started with you sleeping on the couch when the night grew later, migrated to the spare bedroom.

On a Sunday night, it changed again. You watched the tail end of an Eagles’ game while sitting in her bed after helping grade book reports. As always, your head rested on her shoulder with her own resting on yours. Anytime something that wasn’t a point being scored happened, she explained it to you, though she knew not a thing she said would help make sense of it. It didn’t matter to you, all you wanted was to hear her voice and have her attention.

“Your bed is comfy,” you mutter when the commercials begin before the last quarter.

A smile crosses her lips, “treated myself to a good mattress when I kicked bozo out. Glad you approve.”

“You deserve nice things,” you say as you settle into her more, and through a yawn add, “the best things.”

That night, you’d both fallen asleep slumped against the headboard, leaning into each other for comfort.

Melissa woke up to a rhythmic thumping under her ear and a hand in her hair gently playing with amber waves. The small smile that came to her lips would have been foreign to her if she wasn’t so comfortable, the content feeling in her chest would be almost alarming. When her eyes cracked open, she recognized her bedroom and sheets. She groaned into the cold morning air, and the hand moved from twirling the ends of her hair to scratching her scalp, making her tuck into the warmth beneath her even more.

“Good morning,” you rasp out, having only been awake a little longer, the only response being another groan. She finally rolls off of you, much to your dismay, and sits up on her elbows, looking at you with sleepy, squinted eyes.

“It’s Monday,” she grumbles.

You chuckle, grabbing her glasses off the nightstand for her, “fine, just morning then.”

Something about this morning felt different to Melissa. You’d never spent the night on a school night, let alone sleep in her bed, but that wasn’t what shook her. It wasn’t you making her coffee, sipping it to make sure it tasted right before handing it to her. It also wasn’t that you turned off her alarm and woke her up yourself without making her ears bleed. She thought it could be that you’d opened the door for her on the way out, or how you offered to drive her to and from work to make up for staying late, but not that either.

Maybe it was how she didn’t want to get out of bed, or how her coffee tasted better than any time she’d made it herself. Or how she hadn’t slept that peacefully in twenty years. It could have been how much she enjoyed being driven to work, and having full control of the songs you listened to on the way there, or the fact that she sped ahead to open a door for you this time. She doesn't have time to dwell on it once she gets to her classroom, a knock on the doorframe comes the second to place her purse on the desk.

“I thought you weren’t in today, I didn’t see your car in the parking lot,” Barbara says as she walks in.

Without looking up from her bag as she pulls out folders, Melissa answers, “I got a ride in.”

“Did you now?” Barbara asks with an amused tone. “And would that someone happen to be the fourth grade teacher that practically lives with you?”

“We don’t live together,” Melissa says incredulously, “we just fell asleep, so we drove in together. It’s not a big deal, it’s not like we’re actually together.”

Barbara can’t hide her laugh, “you fell asleep? Both of you? And where was that?” Melissa only mumbles back, so Barbara presses, “where did you both sleep, Melissa?”

“My bed,” Melissa finally says a little louder, but not much. She wants to send her head through a wall knowing that Barb just figured her out.

“Oh, girl. You are in deep,” Barbara says with a smirk. After she leaves the room, the spiral in Melissa’s head goes faster.

Said spiral carries her through lunch, and only stops when you sit across from her and stare at her for a moment. Her face contorts in a what? look before you reach across the table and brush your fingers through her hair. When you pull back, there’s a purple string from the third graders’ projects between your fingers. Barbara kicks her from under the table, and she kicks back with equal force. They both see you look at them weird, before brushing it off and going back to getting your lunch out. Barbara cocks her head to you, staring at the red head, silently telling her to do something. The look the kindergarten teacher gets back replies not now.

When the end of the day rolls around, Melissa is anxious for your eventual arrival in her doorway, keys swinging around your pointer finger. All she could think about since you parted ways this morning was your hands in her hair and your heartbeat under her ear. She hadn’t felt so content and so at peace in so long, the feeling was so new that it almost scared her. Melissa had to remind herself that this was about you, not anyone else. You’d never hurt, belittled, or offended Melissa, you’d never made it your mission to anger or disregard her, nor had you ever tried putting yourself before her. She knew that feeling this way about you shouldn’t scare her, but it did.

The sound of keys and footsteps in the hallways alerted her to your approaching presence, making Melissa quickly rise to her feet and grab her things, realizing she’d been spaced out since the last student left. As she predicted, you stood there spinning your keys, smile growing when she turned toward you. It drops slightly when you see her smile not reach her eyes. “Ready?” you ask.

“Sure, yeah,” she clears her throat, “let’s go.”

You can tell her mind is running into overdrive as you pull onto her street. When you park in the driveway, you unbuckle to turn in your seat and face her.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

She turns to you with a scrunched face, “what are you, 90?”

You shrug and point to her sleeves, “you’re thinking. You play with the thumb holes when you think.” She’d curse you for noticing if it didn’t make her heart clench. “You don’t have to tell me,” you add, “but I’ll listen, if you want.”

She looks at you for a moment, surrendering with a, “wanna come in?” You only answer by taking your keys out of the transmission, hopping out, and opening the door for her.

The discussion gets put on hold while Melissa heats up leftovers from the night before. She carries both bowls out to the living room where you’re turning on the TV back on for background noise. As Melissa sits down, she faces toward you and you mirror her pose. “Sorry I was acting weird,” she mumbles before taking a bite.

You shake your head, “you’re only allowed to apologize when you’ve done something wrong. Thinking isn’t doing something wrong.” When she doesn’t speak again, you offer up something else, “Ava almost had a heart attack over you this morning.”

She looks at you confused, “were we wearing the same shade of green again?”

“No. She thought you didn’t come to work this morning cause your car wasn’t there, was going off about how she was going to have to sub because there’s still a shortage in the area,” you laugh, “I had to tell her I drove you in, which also ended me in a twenty minute interrogation during my prep period.”

“What sort of interrogation?” she asked, already nervous.

You look down the bowl in your lap as you speak, poking the food around, “the kind where she asks for a detailed account of my whole weekend. Weird amounts of detail too, mealtimes, where I slept, where we went, what shows we watched.”

“What’d you tell her?” Melissa can feel fear creeping into her bones.

“That we went to the farmer’s market, watched sitcoms, and I slept in the guest room,” you answer truthfully, “and what did you say to Barbara?” Her head snaps to you, you lean your head to the side, “she stopped by to ask me about my weekend, she seemed a little too excited to see me if you hadn’t spoken to her first.”

Melissa moves to place her bowl on the coffee table before looking back to you, “she asked why we drove in together. I said we fell asleep, and she asked where we fell asleep. Might’ve told her you slept in my bed.”

“It’s impossible to lie to her,” you say as you copy her move. You’re silent for a moment, then finally ask, “what were you thinking about?”

She takes in a deep breath and exhales to calm her nerves, “this morning. This whole weekend, but mostly this morning.” She glances up, and sees your face had dropped, worry setting in, and she’s quick to revise her statement, “in a good way. This morning, this weekend, they meant a lot to me.”

At her words, your lips stretch into a smile, “it meant a lot to me, too.” She can see you internally question saying the next part, “and you. you mean a lot to me, a crazy amount.”

It’s her turn to smile like an idiot now, a pretty blush covering her cheeks, “you mean a crazy amount to me, too. Being around you it’s... It’s easy. I like being with you.”

“I do, too. Sometimes, when I’m here I almost forget I live somewhere else. The second I step inside and I’m with you, I don’t know, leaving just feels wrong,” you say honestly, eyes flickering over her face as you speak, scanning for a rejection you won’t find.

“Waking up to you was nice,” Melissa mumbles, “you’re a pretty good pillow, if I do say so myself.”

Your airy laugh makes her heart race, it goes even faster when you lean in to reply, “I wouldn’t mind waking up that way again... and again, and again.”

She matches you lean in, smiling, “yeah?” Your noses are almost touching, she can feel your breath just barely touching her face. Her eyes flick to yours and see you looking back, faint lines forming as your lips turned upward as her gaze.

“Being with you makes sense,” you say quietly into the space between you, eyes flicking to her lips then back up.

Her hand moves up to your cheek, warm hands and cool rings holding with gentle affection. Olive eyes look into yours for permission, but your answer is closing the space between you. Her other hand flies to hold your neck, your hands holding her wrists. They slide from her arms to her waist, pulling her closer and crawling beneath her shirt to rest on her skin. She takes the chance to straddle your lap as her tongue slides over your bottom lip, asking for the instantly granted entry. Her lips were soft, savoring the feeling of yours against hers, committing it to memory.

Your arms tighten around her, holding her as if she’s this precious thing, and it makes her only give more into you. Her lips slow, and you can almost feel the love she’s trying to convey in her action. But your lungs can only survive so long, and she pulls her lips away, resting her forehead against yours.

“Stay?” she whispers through her breaths as she recovers.

“Wasn’t planning on leaving,” you mumble back, dazed from her kiss. You duck foreward, hugging her as she still sits in your lap. Her arms circle your shoulders, hearing you mumble into her neck, “I love you.”

She presses a kiss to your head, “I love you.”

Melissa’s heart beat against your ear, calm and steady. The smell of her perfume and honey shampoo flooded your senses, making you nudge into her further. You tilted your head, lips pressing softly to the skin of her neck, moving upwards back to her lips, pressing a long, sound kiss there. You pull away to look at her, smoothing back copper strands.

“Is it too early to go lay in bed for the rest of the night?” you ask quietly.

She huffs a laugh, “I was gonna suggest the same thing.”

By the fifth episode of Weeds, Melissa noticed your breathing even out. She peered down at you where you lay curled into her side with your head on her chest, arm slung over her middle, lips slightly parted. She presses a kiss to your head as she shuts the TV off, and lays there to just bask in you being with her. She’d never felt so adored, so cared for, so at ease. This is was it was supposed to be.

feedback appreciated as always <3

title from would that i by hozier (i’m sure everyone knew that. we’re all gay here)

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #lgbtq #lgbtq fanfiction #lesbian

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teapartyprincess4two · 3 months

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Corner Store - C. Sturniolo

pairing: Employee!reader x Coworker!Chris

classification: fluff

warnings: use of y/n, slow build up & slight cursing

summary: Reader works at a shitty corner store in order to make some money to help her out with school. She really hates her job, but one night one coworker works hard to change that.

—

“That’ll be $10.32,” you say, scanning the last item and looking towards the customer awaiting their form of payment. Your shift seemed to drag on, you had already been here 6 hours and still had 1 more to go before your shift was over. Not like you would be able to leave right away anyways, you always had to wait until the next person scheduled arrived to relieve you. When you checked to see who was scheduled after you, you noticed that Chris, one of the few other people who worked here, was scheduled today. Chris was always late.

You watched as the customer in front of you dug through her purse, struggling to find the correct amount of change. “I swear I have the 32 cents,” she mumbled, fishing around for the loose coins scattered at the bottom of her bag. Your fingers tapped against the counter impatiently as you watched her. How had you gotten yourself stuck in this dead end job?

“Here,” she says, finally finding the correct amount of change. She hands you a quarter, a nickel, and two pennies. She waited for you to cash her out, not realizing that she had yet to hand you the ten dollars. “Hello?! I need the receipt,” her voice holds an impatient tone as her hands point towards the receipt machine aggressively. You sigh, knowing that this interaction could go south quickly if you didn’t choose your next words wisely.

You wanted to reply with, ‘Hello?! I need the ten dollars,’ but your shift was almost over and there was no reason to pick a fight now. “I still need the ten dollars, ma’am,” you replied, using your customer service voice at its fullest potential. She facepalmed, realizing her mistake before responding, “Oops! You’re right, sweetie.” Her hands returned into her purse, this time pulling her wallet out and handing you a ten dollar bill. Without a word you take it from her and cash her out, making sure to hand her the stupid receipt. “Keep the change,” she jokes. The joke feels like a slap to the face, there was no change. There was never change. You wanted to bang your head against the wall.

“Have a good day,” you say, chuckling a bit at her sarcastic joke and offering her a fake smile. She walks out with all her items in hand, the ring of the doorbell letting you know the coast is clear. Once she’s gone you slump back into your stool, pulling your phone out to check the time. 30 more minutes and you’d be free.

You’re about to turn your phone off when you notice a text from your coworker Chris.

Chris (WORK): hey you think you can cover for me? I’m running late lol. I’ll be there in like 30 minutes :p

You were fulling expecting him to be late, but 30 extra minutes sounded like actual hell. You groan, running your hands through your hair in annoyance before replying.

y/n: really bruh :|

Why was it so hard for him to get to work on time? He didn’t even live far, you had dropped him off a few times on the rare occasion you were scheduled to work the same shift and he didn’t have a ride. He lived like a full 5 minutes away, 10 minutes if he walked. The text bubbles would disappear and reappear, indicating that he was typing up his response.

Chris (WORK): sorry, I’m waiting for my brother to pick me up. he’s my ride

Another groan of annoyance escapes your lips, annoyed at the fact that a grown man was still relying on others for transportation. The haunting sound of the doorbell rings again suddenly and catches your attention. A couple had just walked in hand in hand. “Hello!” You greeted them quickly using your standard go-to customer service voice as you watched them disappear to the back of the store. You hated greeting the customers, they always ignored you.

y/n: you always do this bro. you could literally still get here on time if you started walking right now

The customers in the back of the store were laughing loudly, causing you to once again look away from your phone and in their direction. They were horse-playing, pushing and pulling each other playfully around the store. As cute as it was, you could only think about them possibly tipping something over and making a mess. The last thing you needed right now was a big mess to clean up.

Chris (WORK): that’s not true.

Chris (WORK): and nah I’ll just wait for Matt to take me

You didn’t even bother replying to his last message because no matter what you said he would still be late either way. A loud crash echoes from the back of the store, the couple gasping right after. You sit up from your stool and tiptoe, trying to see what they dropped. ‘Hopefully they didn’t break anything,’ you thought, but you knew they had. Before you could examine the situation, the couple was running out of the store giggling and laughing.

When you walked over to where they previously were you saw it, an entire 6-pack of Coors Light busted on the floor. You wanted to scream, the only thoughts running through your mind being about how much you hated this job. Somehow this all felt like Chris’s fault because his shift started in five minutes and if you weren’t so busy texting him back you might’ve caught the couple in time to warn them to stop.

“Stupid Chris,” you whispered in annoyance as you bent down to pick the beer cans up. The beer dripped down your arm and onto the floor as you rushed it over to the trash can. You really, really hated this job right now.

—

By the time Chris finally arrived it was well over 45 minutes since your shift was meant to end. You were still cleaning up the mess from before, using bleach and the dirty mop from the supply closet to try and remove as much of the sticky residue as possible.

Chris rushed inside, buttoning up his uniform shirt in the process. Once inside he immediately looked around, trying to find you to let you know he was there and you could leave. “Y/n, where you at?” He called through the store, peering easily over the shelves as he tried to find you. But because you were hunched over scrubbing as hard as possible to clean up the liquid mess on the floor, he couldn’t see you.

He walked down the aisles, picking up a bag of chips on the way. He opened the bag, popping a chip in his mouth as he continued to the back of the store. When he found you, he didn’t even comment on what you were doing, instead letting you know that you were free to go, “hey thanks bro, you’re good to go.” You stood up straight with the mop in your right hand and the bleach bottle in the other as you rolled your eyes at his comment.

A chip fell from his mouth, landing on the floor. This irked you even more. Not only was he 45 minutes late, but now he was actively adding to the mess you were trying to clean up. “Here,” you say sternly, shoving the mop and bleach spray towards him and snatching the bag of chips he was holding.

“Hey! I was eating those!” He exclaims, attempting to grab them back from you. “Bye Chris,” you reply, already beginning to walk off, eating a chip in the process. You quickly learned that you didn’t even like this chip flavor, but you couldn’t stand looking at Chris’s face right now so you took them simply to mess with him. “Wait! You didn’t finish cleaning this up!” He called back, looking between you and the mess on the floor. The mop felt so foreign in his hands, he never mopped. You or one of your other coworkers always did that, but never Chris.

“I’m good to go!” You replied, quoting his own words as you pushed the front door and walked out, the doorbell ringing in the process. You threw the bag of chips away on the way to your car. Now it was Chris’s turn to be haunted by the doorbell.

—

The next day you were off so you decided to focus your energy on studying and binge watching your favorite tv shows. You had a few exams coming up so you made a mental note to specifically study for those. You hadn’t even reached the end of the first day when you received a call from Chris.

You debated on whether or not you should answer it, knowing it had to be a work related call. ‘Someone probably called in,’ you thought. You weighed out the pros and cons quickly in your head. ‘Pros? I answer this call and get more hours. More hours equals more money,’ you thought. On the other hand, the cons were never ending. ‘Cons? everything.’

After letting it ring five times, you picked up the phone and placed it on your ear, “Hello?” You could faintly hear the hum of the convenience store refrigerators in the background along with loud chewing. Chris was definitely eating yet another snack. “Y/n, Marcus called in again. Do you think you can come in?” Chris asks, getting straight to the point.

Why was everyone at your job so unreliable? “Umm I don’t know, I’m pretty busy right now,” you replied, staring at the exam notes sprawled out in front of you on your bed. “You don’t sound busy,” he said sassily and followed it with loud crinkling noises as he tried reaching the chip at the bottom of the bag. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You sounded offended but Chris didn’t notice. He mostly wanted you to come in so he wouldn’t have to get through this shift alone. Of course he could’ve called someone else to come in, but for whatever reason he found himself calling you.

Today was Friday and although your store was generally slow, Fridays tended to pick up around 5pm when everyone was either getting off work or picking their kids up from school. “It means that you don’t sound busy,” he replied again, still crinkling his chip bag. His fingers were so greasy at this point that he kept missing the last chip every time he almost had it.

“I mean, what are you even doing right now? Studying?” He asked again. It was a rhetorical question, but the answer was yes. A loud crunch was heard through the speaker, he finally found that one straggling chip and was now incessantly chewing on it. ‘Lucky guess,’ you thought as you began piling all your notes together in embarrassment. “I’ll be there in 20,” you replied, wanting nothing more than to end this conversation.

“You’re studying aren’t you,” he chuckles, crumpling the chip bag, creating a make-shift basketball. He sits in the stool, shifting his body in the direction of the trash can that sat in the corner so he could throw his bag away. “Shut up,” you grumble, getting up from your bed to start getting ready.

“KOBE!” He shouts, throwing the bag in the direction of the trash can with a swift flick of his wrist. He missed terribly and the bag hit the floor with a soft thud.

—

You arrive to work 20 minutes later, mentally preparing yourself for the long 8 hour shift ahead of you. When you walked inside you noticed Chris had a long line of customers forming, all of them holding a multitude of items. Dread filled your body as you realized that you actually had to work and couldn’t just sit there as you waited for your shift to end.

You made your way behind the counter and situated yourself to the right of Chris, motioning for the next customer in line towards your register. “I can help who’s next in line,” you said loudly. The next customer quickly shuffled over to you, dumping all their things on the counter for you to scan.

The rush doesn’t last long, both you and Chris checking customers out quickly and efficiently in order to get them out the door as fast as possible. “Thanks for coming in,” Chris finally says, watching as you grab a box of candy from under the counter. The box is heavy, causing you to heave slightly when you pick it up. Chris notices this and quickly sits up off his stool to help you with the box. “Yeah, it’s whatever,” you reply nonchalantly, allowing him to help you pick the box up.

He’s now holding the box with ease before inquiring what your intentions with this box of candy were, “you gonna stock up?” You hum in response, ready to take the box back from him so you could begin stocking up the now bare candy shelves around the store. He notices this and offers to help carry it around for you. It was the least he could do after calling you in on your day off. “I got it,” he says, adjusting his arms so the box is comfortable enough to carry around.

“Thanks,” your reply is simple, they always were. Chris had never been able to break through to you on a personal level. Throughout your shifts you would always make small talk to pass the time and he was able to learn small details about your life, but he was never was able to learn anything truly personal about you. On one occasion, for example, he learned that you were working here to pay for your school, but he never learned what you were going to school for. Another time he also learned that you had a dog, but you never told him its name.

All your other coworkers had opened up to him with ease, sharing personal details about their life and even trauma dumping a few times. He wondered why you were always so distant. He wanted to get to know you better, but he didn’t know how.

Chris follows behind you as you stock up the shelves, watching as you organize the rows neatly before moving on to the next. He catches sight of a package of Twizzlers, deciding he was going to use this as his talking point. “These are my favorite candies,” he comments, handing you the package so you can organize it onto the shelf. You don’t even respond, you just continue working like some type of task bot.

He sighs quietly, wondering if he should’ve asked someone else to come in for Marcus. Chris wants to give up, but he decided to try again, “What’s your favorite candy, y/n?” The question causes you to pause. ‘If I wanted to be quizzed, I would’ve stayed home to study,’ you thought, already wishing that these next 8 hours would just be over.

“Um… I don’t know? M&M’s are okay, I guess,” you respond, providing him with a half-ass answer in hopes that he’ll take the hint and stop asking questions. He doesn’t.

“What color M&M is your favorite?” He asks, thinking about the different M&M characters from the commercials. “I don’t know, they all taste the same to me,” you quipped back, trying to focus on neatly organizing the shelves in front of you. He was still trudging behind you and although the box he was holding became lighter with each candy you removed, it was still heavy. He adjusted the box again and pulled it up higher against his chest.

“No, I meant like the characters,” he laughs, his mind replaying all those funny commercials where the M&M’s are getting into trouble. You were silent, seemingly confused with whatever he was talking about. “You know! From the commercials!” He sounds excited, hoping that you know what he’s talking about so he doesn’t sound like an idiot. You don’t remember but decide to just go along with him for the sake of your own sanity, “oh yeah, the red one was pretty cool.”

He scoffs at this response, pretending to act offended, “the orange one was clearly the best.” You chuckle at this and it instantly puts a smile on his face. Finally he was getting somewhere with you.

Chris would be lying if he said he didn’t find you pretty. You were the prettiest girl who worked here, which really wasn’t saying much considering the only other woman who worked here was a 65 year old named Gladys, but he’d been around town and he could never find a single girl hotter than you. So, yes, he’d sneak a few glances your way here and there and was always excited to come into work when you were scheduled. Sometimes he would even come in on his days off to buy a soda for an excuse to see you.

You found Chris attractive too, but you mostly found him annoying. He had a pretty terrible work ethic and every time you worked with him it felt like you were stuck doing all the hard labor. Not to mention the fact that he was always running late, forcing you to cover for him until he arrived. Plus he was always snacking on something and leaving his crumbs all over the place for you to clean. Despite all this, he did have his few good moments. Like right now when he’s helping you carry the heaviest box in the store.

“I knew I could make you laugh,” he comments, handing you the last package of candy in the box. You roll your eyes at his comment before responding, “it doesn’t take much to make me laugh, kid.” Your comment was meant to push his buttons, but he didn’t mind the challenge. “Is that a challenge?” He asks, a small smirk growing on his face as he wiggles his eyebrows at you. This earns him another eye roll from you.

“I’d like to see you try,” you respond with a cheeky smile as you take the empty box from him so you can throw it away. Chris watches as you walk away, feeling absolute smitten by you and confident in his skills to make you laugh at least one more time in the next eight hours.

‘This is going to be fun,’ he thought.

—

Chris spends the next 8 hours of your shift trying to make you laugh. He tells bad jokes, pulls silly faces, and even does stupid little dances all in an attempt to see you smile. You laughed at his first joke, but it was quiet enough for him to miss it. You were grateful for that because it egged him on.

“C’mon y/n! Just one little laugh, one giggle, a chuckle even,” he pleads, walking closer to you from behind the counter. You shake your head playfully as you sit back in your stool and face him. He inches closer once again as his mind comes up with the perfect plan of action to get you to laugh,, “what if I do this!”

He pounces on you, using his fingers to poke at your sides as he tickles you. Immediately you burst into a fit of laughter as you attempt to push his hands away, but he uses his strength to keep them in place. “Chris! Stop!” you say in between laughter. He has the biggest smile on his face because he finally got to hear you laugh after so many failed attempts.

Chris continues to tickle you, failing to notice how your body is beginning to slide off the stool. Before he knows it, you’re leaning backwards and heading straight for the floor beneath you. You shriek at the feeling and reach forward to latch yourself onto Chris’s arms to prevent yourself from falling. He immediately stops tickling you and grabs you firmly by the waist, catching you before you can slip off the chair completely.

At this point his forehead is flush against yours, both your eyes locked in a heated stare as your breath fans against his lips. You tried catching your breath, both from the laughing and from the scare you’d just gotten. The moment feels so intense and intimate, all Chris can think about is how easy it would be to kiss you.

‘Fuck it,’ he thinks as he closes his eyes, ready to lean forward and capture your lips in his before he can psych himself out. You do the same, too lost in the moment to realize that you were about to kiss Chris, your coworker who you found annoying up until a few hours ago. Before your lips can meet, the sound of the doorbell rings through the store causing you to break away as quickly as possible.

You both look towards the front door, fully expecting a customer to be standing there but you’re met with nothing. It was just the wind from outside, it had pushed the door open slightly and triggered the doorbell.

Both of you cough awkwardly, deciding to avoid each other for the rest of your shift.

—

Finally, your shift is over. You and Chris worked together silently to close the store up and restock any bare shelves. Once you grab your things you prepare to walk outside and over to your car. Chris was outside already on the phone near the gas pumps. He was calling his brother to pick him up, but he wasn’t picking up.

When you make your way outside, you use your keys to lock the doors behind you. As you fumble with the keys you hear Chris muttering something under his breath before groaning. You turn to walk over to your car, ready to leave without Chris, but as you reach for the door handle you stop to look in his direction one last time. He’s now sitting on the curb, looking in the opposite direction of you. He’s debating in his head whether he should ask you for a ride or just walk home in the dark.

You watch as he gets up abruptly as he decides he was just going to walk home. He couldn’t bare having to sit in a car with you after what happened today. The guilt ate at you, causing you to offer him a ride. “Need a ride?” You shouted in his direction, waiting patiently for him to turn around and acknowledge you. Immediately his head turned in your direction at the question. He silently thanked God for your offer because he really didn’t want to walk home, but he was to embarrassed to ask for a ride. This also meant that you probably weren’t as upset with him as he thought you were. In reality you weren’t mad at all, but you did feel a little awkward.

He jogged over to your car, standing in front of the passenger side door awkwardly almost like he was waiting for permission to get in. “You getting in?” You asked as you opened the your car door and hopped in. “Oh. Um, yeah,” he stutters before following suit and getting in the passenger seat.

The ride to his house is silent, the only noises being the radio and the sound of the car engine. Considering he doesn’t live far, it doesn’t take long for you to arrive to his house. You pull up to the side of the street and place the car in the park, waiting for him to thank you and get out like he always does when you drive him home. He doesn’t immediately get out though, instead he sits in the passenger seat quietly as he rubs his clammy hands against his thighs to relieve some of the anxiety building up inside of him.

Chris’s mind is racing a mile a minute as he thinks of all the possibilities this night could lead to. He could get out of the car, leaving you with nothing but a simple thank you and then let your relationship return to normal. Or, he could do the unthinkable and gain an outstanding reward in return. Whatever he chose, he knew he’d have to deal with the consequences and right now he was willing to gamble.

“You good?” You ask him as you shift in your seat to gain a better look at his face. He looks so nervous that you almost don’t recognize him because it completely contrasts his usual energetic and confident demeanor. “Yeah, I just-“ he’s struggling to find the right words, afraid to say the wrong thing and ruin it all. “You just?” You push, wanting to know what he’s getting at.

Chris sighs, taking one last pause to gather his thoughts before completely shifting towards you. His eyes pierce into yours as he searches them trying to gauge whether his next move will affect his chances at a future with you. Upon further inspection, he decides to just do it.

“I just-” he begins to say but cuts himself off by planting his lips on yours. You’re caught by surprise at his actions, eyes widening in shock and arms falling stiff to your sides. His hands move up to your face, cupping your cheek in an attempt to get you closer, but once he realizes you’re not kissing him back he completely pulls away from you.

It took you a while to process what had just happened; Chris just kissed you! Despite your reaction, you were satisfied with the outcome of the night. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have-” he begins to apologize, but you interrupt him this time. Your lips are back on his, both your hands cupping his face to keep him as close to you as possible. A sigh of relief escapes him, his warm breath landing on your lips. He melts into your touch, placing one of his hands on yours that rested on his face. Chris tasted like candy which only made you want the kiss that much more.

Finally you two pull away from the kiss, letting go of each other slowly. He has a goofy smile on his face as he stares at you, taking in every aspect of your being. “Stop looking at me like that,” you giggle, covering your face in embarrassment.

He laughs along with you, pulling your hands away from your face before replying, “see, I told you I’d make you laugh.” You roll your eyes, moving your face closer to his once again.

“Shut up,” you whisper, kissing him for the third time that night.

—

A/n: I wrote a Matt story so yk I had to write a Chris story. Nick is next don’t worry lololol. Also, I’ve seen your requests/ anon messages and trust that I’m gonna respond to those too! Thanks for reading 🩵enjoy girlies!

- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

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csuitebitches · 3 months

Note

I apologize for the long ask and if this question is a bit juvenile but objectively, how can one “gain” pretty privilege/gauge how they are viewed? I’ve done well in career pursuits for how early on I am ( I graduated in 2020) but started noticing that the invites to events/opportunities where one can really establish themselves not only professionally but socially, I was getting passed over by some higher up colleagues. In speaking to a female mentor who is related to my field and the same background as me (Black), she alluded that while my race may play a small factor in it, it’s more so my appearance that may be holding me back as the personality and poise is there. Some coworkers of mine who are brilliant and POC have similar credentials and positions as I and while we are all wonderful and hard working, they (who I feel are more beautiful and put together looks-wise) have discussed privately to me they have noticed a difference in treatment between us. While it’s not right, I am adult enough to know not to let things that can be fixed hinder the life I want. Your page is a wealth of information and I appreciate how encouraging you are!!

well. I’m going to be very blunt.

it’s all fun and games to say “oh fuck the beauty standards they’re terrible and they shouldn’t exist” yes, true, unfortunately they do exist and they play a bigger role than we imagine it to be.

the first thing you have to get right is your mindset.

you need to be strong enough to admit that you need changes in X, Y, Z area but not in A, B, C area. You also need to be a little loyal towards your racial identity (for the better or worse) because that’s what is going to make you stand out.

if you have a sensitive, overly emotional mindset and you get hurt very easily / become obsessive by nature, I highly recommend you to STOP reading now.

Understand what is considered pretty in your country and area. Even in one country, beauty standards can different from the north and south. Don’t exactly try to become attractive for the opposite sex but understand what they find attractive because these guys are your primary responders to your pretty privilege. Women will be kind on the surface and so it can be difficult to get constructive criticism from them.

Understand what YOU consider pretty. Who are the women who you think are crazy beautiful? What do they look like, dress like, how’s their hair and their make up, can you replicate any of it? Rule of thumb when it comes to hair and beauty - look at influencers / celebs who are of your racial background for the best fit.

there are always a few things that are universally considered “respectfully attractive” not “you wanna fuck me attractive”- semi modesty/ modesty outfits (my father always told me that when in doubt, go for a more conservative look), hygiene, well kept hair, clean nails and toe nails, soft skin, natural make up, natural hair colour, perfume, clothes that fit, skin care, a workout routine.

pretty privilege is not just the art of looking pretty. It’s also bringing in something of value on the table. Value = money / connections / knowledge/ humour / being the fun social person / whatever value the target group considers to be the most important for you to be relevant to them. Work on your soft skills. It’s better to look half baked but have solid soft skills than to look amazing and not know how to converse.

things that one normally notices when meeting someone new:

Skin - is it clear, is the make up overdone?

hair - is it messy or does it suit your face structure?

how you smell

teeth, when you talk - and dental hygiene

shoes - are they filthy?

shirt/ top - does it fit you well (always check that the seams on your shoulder and your actual shoulder line up), the colour of your clothes

body type, posture, how you carry yourself

start with incremental changes. Make a list of things you think you could improve on (this is not a list of “ugly” things, it’s an “improvement/ potential” list). Sort them according to ease of improvement (is this going to be expensive and difficult or affordable and easy?) and time (can this be done overnight or will it take some time).

Use point 1 and 2 only as launching pads. You do not have to look like Beyoncé, you’re simply understanding what her MUA and hair stylist does for her that could work for you. After a point, you have to ensure that YOUR identify sticks out and is still there, you’re not born to imitate someone else and also, it’s very obvious when someone is trying to be someone they’re not.

again. I repeat. If you’re going to get obsessive and make yourself sick over this it’s NOT WORTH IT. If you’re not mentally capable of making these changes, do not go through it.

#Q/a #pretty privilege

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 months

Note

AITA for not picking my brothers side against our mother?

Some background information:

My brother (let’s call him Collin) is trans (20m) We come from a relatively Catholic (we aren’t religious but the influence is deffo there) conservative country and have been living in the USA for most of our lives. My mother definitely can’t be considered LGBTQ allies, although they are much more understanding than some of the people here, especially in the south— which is impressive considering where we come from. She is TERRIBLE with using the correct pronouns for Collin, so much so that he doesn’t contact her much anymore. I’ve never tried to get him to do otherwise— it’s his choice, and I still respect him. I can understand it. Shortly before he moved away, he’d rant to me about her. I was pretty good with listening and giving advice/support for the first few years, but towards the end of high school (when the school work stress was piling up, along with other external family issues), it started to weigh on me. I wanted (and still want) to be someone Collin can confide in, but I still love my mother. She has made improvements with her close-mindedness, even if they aren’t huge steps. Whenever I try to give reasons for her behavior or just try to get them to get along, he accused me of siding with her. A lot of his perceptions of her seem warped these days, too. Like a while ago he was talking with me via text about one of his friends/coworkers (who is gay). He told me not to mention to our mother that this friend is gay— this friend, by the way, is fully out and married. A few months later I slipped and mentioned it to my mother (she had suggested that this friend probably likes this woman we know and I said “no mom he’s gay!”). And she didn’t really react? She just bluescreened for a moment (the trademark “confused boomer pause”) and went on with the conversation. I’ve had a lot of talks with her about LGBTQ issues, and I’ve actually managed to get her to consider the fact that homophobia may stem from religion (she is a very science>religion kind of person). She wholeheartedly believes that LGBTQ issues should not be politicized. (Not an ally, not an enemy.)

anyway, all this to say that Collin has a very 2D impression of her. Last year I went to pick him up at the airport, and mom called while we were in the car to remind us to stop by [store] and pick something up. When the call ended, Collin snorted and said something like “the bitch couldn’t have just sent a text?”

I told him, a bit snappishly, to shut up. He looked surprised and I felt bad, but I told him that I didn’t want any in part in the conflict and that he should stop bringing me into it.

I was also kind of pissed at him at the time for posting the story of an argument between our mother and I (my period was a month late, she thought I was pregnant*— not even an argument she was just annoyingly suspicious for a week or two) online. He changed names for privacy, but there were people who knew who he was so it wasn’t that hard to figure out who his “sister” was. Since I never gave him permission to share it with anyone, I asked him to take it down. He did eventually. but I guess that could be for another AITA post.

*I have never dated or shown interest in dating anyone.

Overall, I feel that he has the right to argue/have a bad relationship with our mother. But I also have a right to let it affect me without being labeled as a bad or traitorous sister.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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chouxsardine · 4 months

Text

Permission to Fall -- Jake Kiszka x reader

Summary: "Don't be afraid of falling, because he will catch you everytime" --Where things became too much at your company's Christmas party and Jake comes to the rescue as the most thoughtful boyfriend that he is.

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x reader

Word Count: 3211

Warnings: descriptions of a panic attack, feet (nothing gross or super detailed), a drop of superstition (let me know if I've missed any)

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort

Author's note: This is originally an idea inspired by @jakesguitarsolo and written for her. I hope you feel better now, dear. One idea spins into me pulling an all nighter...And here it is. This also goes to whoever feels stressed around this time of the year. Yes, things are tough, but you are stronger. I am so proud of you. If you want to talk, feel free to send me an ask or message. This is my first gvf fic and my first time writing anything for threes years. I really enjoyed writing it. I hope you enjoy reading it too.

🎧: I am listening to I Need You Most of All by Stephen Sanchez while writing this (you can tell the title is taken from the lyrics)

----------------------------------------------

Suddenly everything is too much.

But you know damn well that it doesn’t just happen “suddenly”. In fact, shit has been building up for days, or even weeks. You don’t know if it’s the end-of-year frenzy getting into everyone’s head, Mercury is in retrograde, or the depleted Vitamin D levels due to shortened daylight, you’ve had it particularly rough recently, from small inconveniences like your favourite snack being out of stock at the local grocery store for three consecutive weeks to mishaps like you taking the blame for your impotent coworker. You are exhausted, to say the least; you couldn’t wait for the holidays. Not entirely for its cheer, but for the few precious days off. You just need a break from everything.

Now you are stuck in your company’s holiday party. The annual event that you dreaded the most. It involves too many fake smiles, false-hearted small talk, and tooth-rotting-sweet cupcakes that clearly have too much food colouring. All the mental preparing goes south as you stand in the room, the stabbing pain from your high-heels growing more and more unbearable by the second. Too many people.

“Just another thirty minutes, you can do it. Just another thirty minutes”. You hopelessly glance at the clock on the wall, flashbacking to your childhood self squirming in the seats waiting for math class to end.

But of course, something has to make matters worse. The real straw that breaks the camel’s back is your clumsy coworker accidentally bumping into you and spilling her drink on your shoes.

“Oh my god, I am so so sorry, y/n!” She hastily apologizes in a high-pitched squeal. A few people turn their heads toward your direction.

“No, no, it’s okay, don’t worry about it.” Embarrassment. Embarrassment. Panic. Trouble. You try to wave her off. The shoes aren’t even your top concerns right now; you just want her to stop talking and stop attracting more unwanted attention.

“Really? Oh I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to! It’s just—”

“Please.” You take the handful of tissues from her, look her in the eyes, almost pleading, “It’s fine. Please excuse me, I’ll just go to the washroom real quick.”

Once the washroom door is closed behind you, you feel like collapsing right there on the floor. You wobble your way to the sink, arms propped up on the cold marble surface. You don’t dare to look at yourself in the mirror. Your ears are buzzing and the twisted feeling in your lungs tightens. As if a cold hand is wringing a wet towel inside your stomach, as if someone is shoving your head into cold water, you can't breath properly. You try to draw a breath, but end up sounding like a stranded whale. Before it develops into a full-blown panic attack that you can’t handle, you managed to muster the last bit of your sanity and dial that number with trembling fingers.

Jake picks up on the second ring.

“Hi, love. What’s up? ”

Upon hearing his voice, your tears break free. You are sobbing so hard that you have to bite down on your knuckles to keep the volume down. God forbid any busybody out there overhearing sobbing coming out of the washroom. “Ja—Jake—-”You struggled to form a coherent syllable.

“What’s wrong, y/n? Are you hurt?” His voice immediately grows sterner, stripped of of the previous languidness.

To talk under this state feels like squeezing words out of your veins. “Ca—can—you..come p—pick me up? Company—p-party.” You stutter through gritted teeth.

There is some shuffled noise over the phone, a loud bang sounding like he had bumped into something, a silent “fuck” under his breath, then his voice reaches your ears again: “Coming right now, baby, take a deep breath for me.”

You hear the faint beeping of car keys. More shuffled noise. More beeping. That means he has started the car, right? That means he will be here soon, right? You mind is racing and spinning and your lungs are still acting up, only allow silvers of oxygen into your body. You feel like you are watching the world through a distorted filter. A scarier thought jumps into your brain: you whiny puny thing, continue crying and your panic will affect Jake. The roads are slippery now, and it will be all your fault if he ends up in a car accident.

As if being slapped in the face, you manage to suck in a deep breath like a scuba diver resurfacing to the water: “Drive safe please, please Jake, please—I will wait for you.”

Jake makes a sound that is somewhat between a relieved laugh and a resigned sigh. He knows instantly what’s going on in your overthinking brain; you are worried about him. The thoughtfulness must be engraved in y/n’s brain, he thought, always, always putting others in front of herself, even when she’s having a panic attack. And Jake knows you are correct. It is only upon hearing your words that he realizes how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. He recomposes himself, relaxing his shoulder, “Don’t you worry about me, love. I will stay on the phone if that makes you feel better, yeah? Ain’t nothing gonna happen to me.”

“Knock on wood!” You hiss between sobbing, frantically searching for any wooden material around you. Damn it, why is everything so shiny and glassy?

Jake is amazed that he even lets out a short laugh under the circumstances. Yes, his heart aches hearing his girl being a mess over the phone, and he wishes he could grow wings and fly to her side. But meanwhile, he can't help but find you cute like this. He knocks three times on the mini wooden tissue box that he keeps in the middle console.

“Yes, knock on wood. You hear that, doll?”

“Hmm.” You would honestly believe anything now. Hearing Jake’s voice and imagining him coming to you is like brown noise for babies. Your lungs finally decide to have mercy on you, and you can now somehow draw in shallow breaths albeit the pain in your chest.

Jake is relieved as he sees the green lights shining at the last intersection before turning left onto the side road where your company is located. “I’m here. Can you come down by yourself, love? Or do you want me to get you?”

“I can come down.” You say. The thought of him finding you in a messy pile on the bathroom floor makes you wince, even though he’d probably seen worse.

“Okay baby, see you in a second.”

You don’t remember how you collected your coat and pushed your way through the crowded room without many people noticing. The next moment, your sensations are restored, and you find yourself already in Jake’s arms. He's waiting for you in the area between the automatic glass door and the revolving door outside, a place that is warm with air conditioning but won’t attract nosy people. He wraps you in a hug with his wool jacket. His comforting scent fills your nostrils, a powerful pacifier for your naughty lungs. For the first time this evening, you can finally breathe properly like a normal human being. The rush of fresh air makes you release a loud sob like a newborn baby. The relief of seeing him safely standing in front of you and the release of finally being free from the stressful and stuffy environment ushers more tears to stream down your face.

“Shhhh…..you’re okay now, y/n, safe now. I’m here.” His hand wraps protectively around the back of your head as he plants kisses into your hair. “Poor girl, let’s get to the car and go home.”

Home. Home sounds heavenly to your right now. You couldn’t think of a better combination of these four letters in the whole of human history.

On the way back, you curl into a ball on the passenger seat like a battered puppy. Jake holds your hand whenever he gets the chance, his strong calloused fingers gently massaging yours, tracing the patterns on your palm, his thumb brushing the back of your hand, providing warmth. No longer crying, your shoulders occasionally shudder with involuntary sobs that escape you. But other than that, you are falling into a trance. Your gaze concentrated on Jake’s perfect side profile through hooded eyes, watching in awe as the passing streetlights formed patterns of shadow on his graceful nose and cheeks; your mind numb without a single thought.

It is only when Jake wakes you up that you realize you have fallen asleep. The car is already parked in the garage, the familiar and comforting damp smell seeping in.

“We are home now, sleepyhead.” Jake smiles at you, tapping on your wrist to signal you to wait as he gets out of the car and opens your side of the door. Just as you were about to step off, Jake reaches to cradle you by the shoulders and knees, carrying you bridle-style into the house. You hide your face shyly in the crook of his neck, secretly grateful because your feet are indeed sore in those heels.

Jake puts you down by the shoe rack, motioning you to put your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself as he squats down in front you, holding your ankles and taking off your shoes. If he did see the stains, he didn’t ask any questions, only cooed when he saw the blisters on your heels.

“Let’s go upstairs and get your makeup off, then we’ll cuddle and go to bed, yeah?” Jake stands up, hanging up your coat before cupping your cheeks and placing a kiss on your forehead.

You never hated makeup more than now, regretting to put it on in the first place, now that it has become the annoying barrier lying in your way to bedtime. But Jake says “let’s,” that means he’s going to do it together with you, right?

“Jake?” You whine bashfully.

“Yes, love?”

You tilt up your chin and close your eyes, “One more kissy, please?”

Jake swears he feels a part of his heart melt right there. Who is he to deny you?

“Of course, as many as my princess would like.”

Stepping into the bathroom, Jake sits you on the closed toilet seat. He opens the drawer, grabs your makeup remover and some cotton pads. He applies some liquid onto the wipes and lifts up your chin.

“Close your eyes for me, love.” The cool liquid on your eyelids makes your eyebrows twitch, causing Jake to chuckle, “I know, I know. Just a little longer.”

You sit quietly, mesmerized and hypnotized under his touch. His movements are almost rhythmic. Is this how cats feel when their owners scratches behind their ears? You fear that if you make a sound, you will actually let out a purr.

Jake continues until most of your makeup is gone. “Hold out your hands,” you hear him say and complied. Two dollops of foamy liquid landed in the centre of your palm, and you opened your eyes to recognize they are your face wash. Jake tugs on your wrist, leading you to stand in front of the sink.

“Can you wash your pretty face now, darling? Wash up, and I’ll be back in a minute.”

You nodded, feeling lighter and more relaxed now without your makeup and even more content when you turn on the tap and find out that Jake has already tuned it to a lukewarm temperature for you.

When Jake returned, he was calling you from the bedroom. You have already brushed your teeth and let down your hair.

You walked into the bedroom and are welcomed by the scent of bergamot and sandalwood from your favourite candle glowing on the night stand. Jake was pulling an old T-shirt out from the closet. It was the vintage Joan Jett and The Blackhearts shirt, the patterns half faded, and materials worn-out soft. You saw him laying out one of his boxers for you too. He knows you always prefer them to your own underwear as pyjamas.

“Come sit, angel.” He patted the bench at the foot of the bed, him sitting across from it on a small stool.

It is only when you walked close that you saw the wooden foot spa basin, with clouds of steam rising from it. As you sat down, he gently took your ankle and balanced your feet on the edge of the basin, so that the hot water is steaming your sole.

“It’s still a bit hot.” He looks up to you. “I put Epsom salt and eucalyptus oil in it.”

“Where did you get this?” You feel like the heat from the bottom of the feet is slowly being absorbed into your veins and rising up to your cheeks. You wiggle your toes nervously.

Jake lets out a giggle, “Well, mum suggested once to Josh about the foot spa thing, said it helps with stress and tense muscles. You know, with him running barefoot on stage and all.” He reaches down to sprinkle some water onto your feet, letting you adjust to the temperature. “But Josh got the fancy electric ones. I thought this is better. More authentic, don’t you think?”

“Uh-hmm.”

“Your nails are all chipped,” Jake looks down, “maybe tomorrow we can repaint them? I saw you bought a new colour the other day.”

Tender. So tender. From his tone to his caramel brown eyes. The light from the lamp illuminates the left side of his face, giving it a solemn, smooth glow like a wax statue. Your heart swells; love makes it rise like Soufflé in the oven. The soft surface rises up until it touches your ribcage, threatening to spill those tears again.

“Thank you, Jake.” You dare not raise your voice, fearing that it will break, “I just got a bit overwhelmed at the party, is all.”

Jake eases your feet slowly into the water now that it’s the perfect temperature. The slight sling of your blisters is soon overwhelmed by the all-encompassing warmth that rises all the way to your ankle.

After a few heart beats, he speaks again. “You’ll always have me, y/n. You are allowed to fall, to break. I will be here to catch you, to piece you together. Whatever you need.”

Finally you were snuggled together in bed. You, a human koala, cling to Jake with your face pressed against his chest. His arm snakes around your shoulder, fingers mindlessly tracing your collarbone, strumming some unknown patterns. His heartbeat thumping in your ear, the perfect lullaby. The steady rise and fall of his chest is like waves, rocking you into a sweet slumber. Your eyelids feel heavy like velvet drapes. There’s still a stubborn voice in your brain keeping you from falling asleep. There’s still one more thing you need to do, even though you understood each other perfectly.

“Jake?” Your voice low like a murmur. Jake almost didn’t hear you at first.

“What is it, babe?”

“I love you.” Those words come out as a slur, and like a magic spell, you fall into the deep embrace of sleep as soon as the last syllable leaves your lips. Now clear of any stress and worries in the arms of your lover, the strained string in you brain that has been holding on for dear life the whole evening finally snaps. You’re out like a light.

“I love you back, y/n, through and through.” He whispers into your dream.

You woke up to an empty bed, the sheet on his side still has the human-shaped imprint. Jake is a night owl; it is pretty common that he just gets up in the middle of the night and ends up doing some random things around the house. Most often it’s him strumming the guitar and experimenting with his ideas for new tunes in the home studio downstairs. But you have also caught him fixing chipped paint on the walls, repotting the succulents in the garage, and pouring broth into the crockpot with chicken thighs and smoked ham hock (“so we could have warm chicken chili in the morning!”; to be honest, it’s indeed delicious; you had two bowls and had to skip lunch that day). Just to name a few, so the possibilities are endless.

You get out of bed, creep cross the corridor and tiptoe your way down the stairs. The lights at the doorway are on; you thought Jake forgot to turn them off. However, as you approach, you see Jake squatting down next to the shoe rack, his back towards you, and a brush and some spray bottles laying nearby.

You move closer and see him holding the clothes steamer near your wine-stained shoes. The heels you wore have a suede tip in the front, and unfortunately, that’s where the wine was mostly spilt on. After a few moments, Jake uses the wire brush to clean the surface. He stops from time to time, holding it further to inspect the result.

You waited until he stops again to make some sounds, announcing your presence. Jake immediately turns around. His eyes softens upon seeing you.

“What are you doing up?”

You go to squat down next to him, kissing his temple before resting your head on his shoulder.

“You just bought these not so long ago, yeah? It’d be a shame to leave them stained.” Jake lets more steam soak into the fabric before brushing them again. “I’m almost done. I saw this trick online, and it looks pretty legit.” It’s only then that you noticed his phone on the side, the screen showing the replies from some Reddit post.

“Thank you, baby.” You rub your cheeks slightly on his T-shirt; the feeling of warm pastry once again fills your heart.

“No worries, doll. I think it’s good for now. Let’s leave them here and check in the morning.” Jake starts putting away his tools before pulling you up and wrapping his arm around your waist, leading you back upstairs.

On your way, something familiar catches your eye. You must’ve missed it earlier.

“Wait, where did you get that?” You stop, pointing at what happens to be a whole case of your favourite snack lying on the kitchen counter.

“Oh, I saw the stores are out of them, so I ordered them online. They just arrived today.” Jake scratches his head, his tone tainted with slight disappointment.“I thought they’d be a nice surprise as stocking stuffers, but…”

You stopped him mid-sentence with a kiss.

“I love you.” This time you said it clear against his lips.

“Oh doll, I love you back,” he smiles, showing the cutest wrinkle on his nose. His hands brush your shoulder as you resume your steps upstairs. “Let’s get a few more hours of sleep now. And when you wake up, you will wake up to some yummy pancakes and a pair of stain-free shoes, huh? How does that sound?”

Oh Lord, that sounds heavenly. That sounds just like home.

“I’d like that, Jake. I’d like that very, very much.”

----------------------------------------------

Thank you for reading :) any comments and feedbacks are greatly welcomed and deeply appreciated

(The stain-removing tips comes from malccy72 on reddit :D

If you also feel like reading a smutty (but also fluffy?) piece🤭: Mariner's Complex || Love is a four-legged word || The Lucky Ones

or some Christmas fluff: Ticked (all my boxes)

#jake kiskza x reader #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fluff #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka fluff #jake kiszka #jake kiszka fic

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sublimecatgalaxy · 1 year

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Escapism

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader (pre-apocalypse)

Warnings: Smut, 18+, this is truly sinful and unholy but he's probably my favorite dilf as of recent so. Deal with it. There's also a wholesome part to this.

Word Count: 4.5k WHAAAAAAT

Summary: This is from a request from an anon, "Joel Miller smut? Pre-apocalypse literally ANYTHING? Maybe where Sarah has been trying to get them together forever and one night something just snaps?"

Joel was never the most preceptive man.

He could see a fly from a mile away and hit it dead with anything near him but the man could not for the life of him understand the concept of flirting.

Weeks on ends, months even, of flirting with him every time he'd come into my store with Sarah, buying groceries too many times a week for a normal two person, sometimes three person, household. Sarah liked to joke that he only bought a small amount of groceries at a time because he wanted to have a reason to come back and talk to me.

I couldn't believe it at first.

He's nearly a decade older than me, there should be something creepy about it, about him, but there's something about him that draws me in, makes me completely and utterly floored every time he walks into the grocery store with his stupid flannels and stupid polite smile.

Until it became a habit.

He walks into the local store like he knows that I'm waiting for him to show up, to tell me I look pretty, compliment my braids, or ask me about my day. Most of the days it's all three. And though he was good at complimenting, sort of good at smooth talking, he was the worst at realizing when I'm giving him the same attention.

Sometimes I'd unbutton my shirt a few buttons, inviting his gaze to flicker south, though it rarely ever did. Fucking gentleman. Other times I'd conveniently run out of receipt paper and I'd have to bend down carefully, giving him a perfect opportunity to look at my ass, though there was never a chance my coworker was able to catch him in the act.

He's just so polite, never cursing in front of me, never looking away from my eyes, never offending me in any way, shape, or form. It almost makes me feel dirty for the way that I feel about him.

I don't know when it started, when the blushing and bashfulness turned into pure arousal, never being able to look into his eyes for too long without my knees buckling. There's just so much to him, a depth that I want to dive into.

And, I'd like it to be crystal clear, it was Sarah's idea for him and I to have a sort of date.

She pushed him into telling me that he was free nearly every Friday's, that he would be 'doing absolutely nothing' and she complained about how 'bored he typically is without something to do'.

Instead, she slipped up and instead of saying something, she said 'someone'.

Smart ass girl.

It was the push I needed though, to finally tell him that I don't work Friday's and would love to get to know him. Sarah was bubbling with joy at the thought of her dad and I hanging out and I thought it was adorable.

When I got a call from Joel this morning, just calling to tell me that he was excited for tonight and to let me jot down his address (though I already knew it from the membership I talked him into at the grocery store), I was freaked.

Immediately, panic set in, panic that I've never felt before. I've been on dates before, plenty, but there was something about the thought of being in his home, where him and his daughter live, alone with him, with wine. It freaked me out enough that it made me sit in my bathroom an hour before I was supposed to leave, contemplating if I should call him to cancel.

It's safe to say I didn't, I pulled myself from my bathroom floor and to his house, sitting in my car for too long before Sarah knocked on my window with a giggle, asking if I needed help finding the front door.

I didn't know what to do- I felt like a child, standing in the front hall of their home, swaying back and forth, waiting for someone to tell me what to do. For fucks sake, it took me nearly five minutes for me to actually take my shoes off.

"You two have fun! I'll be down the street at Mackenzie's!" Sarah calls out and I can practically hear the dramatic excitement in her voice, only exasperated by the fact that Joel's cheeks are red as can be as he looks out the window, raising a hand to his jaw to conceal his smile.

"Bye kiddo, feel free to not come back tonight." Joel calls out, deep bellowing voice causes my stomach to flip eagerly but it's his words that stop me in my tracts, brows pulling together in confusion.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, hearing the door shut, Joel and I now completely and utterly alone for the night. "What do you got in store?" I lean towards him, watching the way his eyes drag down the slightest bit, watching the way that my breasts swell against my top that I wore purposely to get his reaction. Fucking finally.

"That's not what I meant." He shakes his head firmly, head tilting cutely at me in an attempt to chastise me and my dirty thoughts but I just grin wickedly, loving the way that I have him stumbling over his thoughts and words.

"Mhm." I nod, tossing him a wink as I lean back into his couch, tugging my knees up to my chest in an attempt to get comfortable but all I can feel is the steady throbbing between my legs. "You should've gone with it. I'm up for whatever you've got in store." I take another sip of wine, giving myself an out when he asks why my cheeks are so red and heated.

"Gotta stop talking like that." He mumbles, adjusting himself in his seat so his knees are parted, his body reclining into the couch with ease in an attempt to get comfortable but all I can focus on is how inviting his thighs look, spread apart like that.

A perfect throne for a queen.

"Why?" His brows lift at my question, almost as if he's asking if he really needs to answer it and he doesn't, I know why he wants me to stop talking that way and it's the exact reason while I'll continue regardless. "Does it intimidate you?"

"You've had some wine, you're probably just-"

"Drunk?" I swish my wine glass back and forth, the red liquid sloshing around as his eyes flicker back and forth from the drink to my eyes that are glued on him. "I've had a half of a glass." I deadpan and he scoffs awkwardly, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. "Relax, I"m not coming onto you or anything."

"No? Seems like it." He laughs, loosening up a bit as his arm stretches along the back of the couch, leaving a perfect amount of room for me to slip into the crook of his body and I fight the urge to but fail miserably.

I crawl over to his side of the couch, sitting directly beside him, his arm still staying stretched out behind me, fingers brushing against the back of my neck. He shifts so he can turn the slightest bit towards me, tongue sweeping out across his lips.

"Would you like it if I was?" His face pales, lips parting in silent shock and I giggle, taking another sip for the sake of confidence, my body warming at the drink and my proximity to the man I've pined after for so long.

"Why do you think Sarah's so keen on gettin' us together?" He asks genuinely, his once pointed gaze softening a bit and I feel myself getting more and more comfortable in his presence as the night goes on.

With us getting closer and closer, I feel the oxygen in my lungs begging to escape me, only leaving my lips in gasps as my lips chase his hungrily but there's a part of me that doesn't know if he'd reciprocate it. He's so chivalrous, I wouldn't put him past denying myself and himself a moment to just give in.

"Because she likes me and she wants you to be happy."

"And what do you want?" Joel's eyes leave mine briefly, flickering down to my lips and I feel all of my confidence wash away, the things I had planned in my head, the wishes that I wanted to come true, the things that I desperately needed to tell him- they're all gone. No thoughts can run through my head when he's shyly glancing at my lips, almost as if he wants to lean forward and taste them.

"To be taken care of." The honest answer leaves my lips before I can stop the words and my eyes widen briefly out of fear that he'll run for the hills or blame it on the wine but he doesn't, he just waits patiently for me to explain. It'll take a minute or two in the state that I'm in. "Never been taking care of before, especially by a man."

"That's a shame." He scoffs, setting his glass of wine down, implying something greater than him being done with his drink, especially with the way that his hand comes down to rest inches away from my bare knee.

"All this talent- gone to waste."

"It's just sad to hear a beautiful girl like you doesn't have more men falling over her." His eyes don't meet mine but his words meet my ears and force a shiver down my spine, my body shivering as his hand reaches up to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, shamelessly and unwavering.

"I don't have a lot of time to notice many men, I guess." My voice quivers more than I wished it would've but I choose to ignore it, my confidence suddenly rising at the realization that this is Joel being handsy; subtle touches along the back of my neck, touching my cheek, fingers brushing against my knee and leaving room for me to fit perfectly in his side.

We've bridged the gap of my checkout counter and scanning belt, now only inches away from each other instead of feet. He's just how I imagined he'd feel as I lift my hand to rest on his chest, briefly brushing over the neckline of his simple t-shirt.

"You noticed me." He mutters bashfully, cheeks heating up once more and his blush crawls down the expanse of his throat and beneath the collar of his shirt.

"Your daughter kind of forced you into my point of view."

"I'm sorry about her." He laughs, looking down at his lap again, nervously toying with his fingers. I reach out to him, setting my small hand atop his, stopping his fidgeting in its tracks and causing his eyes to lift to mine.

"I'm not." I grin, giving his hand a simple squeeze before setting my wine down beside his, opening up my hands and arms for him just in case he wants the opportunity to sink into me.

"You're good at this. I'm a little rusty." He admits bashfully with a soft smile, eyes flickering out the window once more to distract himself, sun setting in the sky as the TV plays quietly in the background.

"That's okay." I whisper, fingers hesitantly reaching out to brush across his jaw and I worry briefly that he'll push me away, tell me that he's not a touchy person, but instead his eyes flutter shut and he leans into my tongue, almost desperately. "I'm not asking for much."

"I know you're not and that's what's fucking scary." He laughs, chest rumbling and I smile, giving him a simple shrug. My simplicity is what I always assumed would bring Joel and I close to each other, neither of us having much time for games especially in the world of dating. "It's easy- being with you, I mean."

"Really? Cuz you're really hard to be with." I tease, watching his eyes widen in brief fear but I put an end to it almost immediately. "I feel like my heart's going to burst out of my chest."

"You're joking?" He asks sincerely, brows tugging together and I laugh.

"I'm not. The amount of times Sarah's muttered 'be cool' to me before you've rolled your cart up to the check out line is too many times to count on two hands." He looks beyond surprised, lips fanning out into a cocky smirk, confidence brightening up his once nervous expression.

"I never knew I had that effect on you."

"Then I've done a good job at not looking like an idiot."

"I'm the idiot." He laughs, leaning into me briefly, hand sneaking around my shoulder so his fingers can draw simple circles on my bicep. "Should've asked you out without the help of my teenage daughter."

"She planned this, didn't she?" I ask with a tilt of my head but I already know the answer, knowing that Sarah has wanted us together for the longest time, making sly comments throughout the months about how much she loves to see her dad so happy. "Us coming together, being alone?"

"Not the smartest idea, huh?" He adjusts in his seat and I eye his thighs carefully but not carefully enough cuz his fingers tap my arm in an attempt to get my attention and I laugh bashfully before addressing his comment.

"Why?"

"I don't trust myself around you." He admits with a heavy sigh.

"Good." I smirk, hands reaching out to massage his shoulder, electricity sparking under my touch and I feel him visibly tense beside me, eyes watching my fingers out of the corner of his eyes. "You need to loosen up a bit."

"Now you're coming onto me." I giggle, leaning into him, tucking my face into the crook of his neck, finally giving into him and he does the same, pulling me into him by the shoulder, arm tightening around me almost as if he's trying to keep me tucked into him.

"Sure am." His large hand soothes over my thighs that are curled up on his own and it makes me freeze, head tilting up so I can look up at him through my lashes, catching the way his eyes flicker down to my lips.

Before I can process it, his lips are on mine, softly and unbelievably timid, his hand gently cupping my jaw while his thumb tucks beneath my chin so he can kiss me better, my whole body frozen in his touch.

He's a good kisser, a better kisser than I would've anticipated, especially with how single he's been for so long. I always thought that it would be me- the experienced one, the confident one- but with his lips on mine I feel completely and utterly at his mercy.

This isn't fair.

Taking a leap of faith, I swing a leg over his thighs, finally sitting where I've wanted to all night, sinking down onto his thighs with a moan, not once slipping from his hungry lips. His hands grip my waist, dragging me against him and a surprised gasp leaves me, lips finally parting from his as I gasp in a few breaths, wide eyes looking back at me.

"Hi." I whisper breathlessly, loving the huge smile that spreads across his lips at my fragile tone and I can feel my body trembling against his, all of my nerves from the last few months coming out all at once.

"You good?"

"I just-" I start but air forces it's way into my lungs in an exasperated gasp. "I've been thinking about this, dreaming about this, for months." His eyes are so incredibly soft as he looks- gazes- adoringly up at me, hands encompassing my hot cheeks in his hands, forcing me to look at him clearer.

"I should've kissed you months ago." I grin obnoxiously into the next kiss he gives me, squealing when he lifts me further into his arms, standing up with almost no hesitation, arms looped around my shaking thighs.

"Where are we going?" I ask with a breathless giggle, holding onto him tight as my fingers card through his hair.

"Depends where you wanna do this?" Fuck. I tuck my face in the crook of his neck, almost needing to hide from him with the way that he's speaking to me, my stomach twisting and legs desperately clenching around his waist.

"Fuck." I whisper, feeling his chest rumble against mine. "I wanna be comfortable."

"Bed it is, then."

By the time we make it to be the bedroom, his hands are pushing the top of my dress down over my shoulders, hungry lips finding purchase on the junction of my neck, biting and sucking a bright red mark into my heated skin.

I can barely keep up with him like this, the way he's already pushing my clothes off, chasing my lips, hands exploring everywhere they can- it's almost overwhelming but I'd never want him to stop.

I fumble with his t-shirt, tugging it over his head with an excited giggle, immediately finding his lips once more after tossing his t-shirt to the ground. I'm pushing him back on the bed before he can take control again, deciding to find my confidence once more as I straddle his hips.

"Is this how we're doing this?" Joel asks, arms tossed over his head and I just take a second to think about how handsome he is, sweaty hair matted to his forehead, eyes completely soft but his pupils are taking up nearly all of his beautiful brown eyes, simply from arousal.

"That okay with you?" I ask, dragging my nails down his chest, seeing soft pink marks in their wake and his eyes widen, lip tucking between his teeth as he watches me grind myself against him, the roughness of his jeans satisfying the need for friction.

"Do you see me arguing?" He asks, brows furrowing in faux confusion and I grin wickedly, fingers toying with the waistband of the denim, watching the anticipatory look pass through Joel's expression.

"Good." I pop the button with ease, the sound of the zipper undoing acting like magic to my ears. "Because I've been thinking about this for months." He helps me kick his jeans off and onto the floor and my mouth waters, seeing the print of his cock beneath his boxers.

"You are gorgeous." The compliment makes me impossibly wetter than I was before, my lips parting in breathy gasps as tug his boxers off, his cock springing up and into my hand.

I grin, taking his breath away as I give him a few strokes for good measure, before lifting onto my knees, not even bothering to take my panties off. I pull them aside, biting my lip to conceal the plethora of curses that want to fly out of me as I drag his cock against my clit, bumping the sensitive bundle of nerves with every stripe I make.

"Fuck, woman, you're killing me." He groans, back arching off the bed as his hands find my thighs, giving them a firm squeeze, urging me to sink down on him and I do, slowly, giving myself time to adjust.

My jaw drops in a silent groan, nothing but a gasped breath leaving me and I firmly plant my hands on his chest, giving myself a moment to think about nothing but the stretch that his cock is giving me.

"Fuck Joel." I whisper, lifting my hips gently as Joel takes control, meeting my thrusts to lift his hip up and against me and he feels deeper and deeper every time our hips meet. His thumb slips down, brushing skillfully across my clit and I fold, my body collapsing on top of his, face tucking into the crook of his neck.

"You wanna keep going?" He asks breathlessly, pressing kisses to my cheek and my hairline, reassuring me and comforting me throughout the way and it makes my heart swell with something greater than care.

"Please just fuck me hard, I need to cum." He flips me on my back in a second, hitting the deepest parts of me as he hikes one of my legs over his hip, biceps tensing as he holds himself up, pounding into me at an unrelenting pace. "Then we can worry about soft."

He takes my words seriously, leaning up so he can look down at me, spine straightening and his hips work like a piston, chest rising and falling in frantic breaths as his head tips back in pleasure, a loud groan leaving him.

We're chasing our highs like we've chased after each other the last few months, all of the pining and shy smiles coming down to this one moment of trust and closeness. It almost makes me emotional to think of how madly in love with him I've been just from afar, that I'm here right now, in his bed with a giddy smile on my lips.

Most people say its impractical that couples can finish at the same time but when I finally topple over the edge, Joel's arms wrapped firmly around my trembling body, it pulls him along with me, cumming with a loud groan.

"Fuck." We whisper at the same time, tipsy, tired giggles leaving us as our hearts pound, coming down from our highs slowly but surely. He rubs my hips soothingly and I begin to feel the familiar ache of my joints after being carried and tossed around, our giggles dying down into small laughs and slowly even that turn into kisses.

"Wanna go to dinner next weekend?" Joels asks, rolling off of me and onto his back and an 'oof', looking to me with a bright grin, his cheeks dusted in a gentle pink.

"Wanna go to dinner now?" I offer, clutching his bedsheets to my chest as I roll onto my stomach, pecking his bicep gently as I curl into his side for the second time tonight.

"Breakfast for dinner?" His eyes widen excitedly at his own offer and I nod, feeling completely and utterly safe and sound in his bed right now. There's no judgment, no worries on my end, just happy to be here after all of this time of wishing I could be with him.

"I adore you."

#joel #joel x reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #the last of us fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x y/n

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leonstoenailunderhisbed · 8 days

Text

Insurgency: The Uprising

Summary: A totalitarian regime reigns over a South American country in which the virus is being distributed to its citizens at the pretense of a “cure.” Leon was sent to retrieve a sample of the virus mutation when he stumbled upon a group of anti-government activists whose main goal is to overthrow their government. Will Leon help the cause or will he fall down with the government as well?

Warning: Mentions of mature themes. Read at your own discretion. Slow burn. Age gap (Leon is 38 and reader is 21+). Reader is female.

Word count: 4,750

A/N: this is an idea I had for a book I wanted to write. I love dystopian books and movies so I really wanted to write something like this. This will be a series lol.

[part one][part two][part three][part four][part five][part six][part seven][part eight][bonus]

“The relief of giving in to destruction.” - Franz Kafka, Diaries.

“This is an urgent message from the president. This is an urgent message from the president. This is an ur-“

“Hello citizens of Pruye,” the TV warning got interrupted by the screening of a middle aged woman sitting down on a desk. Her suit was black as a flag stood behind her. The colors blue and green with a crest on the far left corner- a serpent. The woman had a brown bob with a few grey hairs. Her eyes were deep brown as her lips remained a bright pink. Her rosy cheeks puffed out the look of exhaustion as she embodied the feeling of a confident and strong leader,

“Today is an important day that all must remember. Tonight, we will launch the cure of all illnesses. The immunity to life. We shall bring peace and harmony all throughout the globe. A change never seen in history… until now.”

“Membario will become the new pharmaceutical phenomena. Our people worked hard for this cure and we shall be the first ones to prove to the world that we, too, can make history. Tonight, you all will be receiving a sample of this cure. Tonight, we will boast in the celebrations of what it feels to be victors! We are proud Pruyanians!”

The TV got turned off by someone, your coworker, “What a bunch of mierda,” Your coworker was an old man, a veteran who served in the war and now worked at where you worked. A canteen right in the middle of downtown Pruye. The streets were made of cement but had plot holes from previous battles.

The Pruyanian government, right before the current president won the election, was peaceful and harmonious in which it allowed citizens to have a voice. After President Mendez took charge, she changed everything.

Streets were patrolled by the Pruyanian soldiers who proved their loyalty to the country. Laws were changed and made to accommodate the president’s demands.

“I just don’t understand why it’s such a big deal, it’s just a drug like opium or morphine,” he continued with a grumpy voice.

“C’mon, Franco. Don’t be a buzzkill. Imagine how rich we can be if we were to sell it to other countries?” Another coworker said, a young woman in her early twenties with dyed hair. Red fiery hair covering what was a previous black raven shade.

Franco snorted as he stared at the TV and then back at the young woman, “Don’t tell me you actually believe her words? She’s manipulating us!”

You sighed and went to clean up a few tables, “You two fight like politicians.”

“Look- I’m just saying is that there are better ways to make a living. I don’t want to work here for the rest of my life,” the young woman replied as she too helped you clean around the canteen.

“Too bad, Esme,” Franco replied as he opened a newspaper and began to read, “Life’s a bitch and you can’t do anything about it.”

Esme raised her brow and looked at you for a brief moment, “He gets old but not his spirit, eh?” She nudged you with her elbow gently.

You stifled a chuckle and shook your head as you went back to the kitchen to clean the used dishes.

It’s always been you three working here. Esme, Franco and you were like family. After President Mendez delivered the order to kill all those who opposed her, your family became a target.

Your brother, around 16 years old, died right before a ceasefire was called. He was with his friends when a group of Pruyanian soldiers appeared and shot him. The cause for the shooting? He defied a soldier and showed insubordination.

Since then you’ve grown resentment to the government- specifically President Mendez.

The ground shook as you were cleaning the dishes. You slowly approached the open door entry along with Franco and Esme, watching as battle tanks drove through the city.

“Coño… what are they doing over here?” Esme asked faintly as she watched the tanks and army pass by. Their uniform blue with the serpent crest embedded on their arm. The red serpent you’ve seen all throughout the city.

“Must be presidential orders,” Franco pointed to a big screen on a tall tower. The tower stood right in the center of the city layout. Its purpose was to guide those who are lost- or maybe it was to show who the powerful ones really were.

You and Esme turned your attention to the big screen, watching as a countdown took place. They were about to distribute the cure to the citizens in 6 hours.

Esme huffed in annoyance and went back to stare at the soldiers pass by. Their boots echoing through the humid streets of Pruye as they held their weapons with a firm grip.

“They’re securing the area…” you whispered as you furrowed your brows. You turned back to look at the screen and listen to what the president had to say, “We will be patrolling the following areas- Pucalara, Miguén, San Jolonia, and San Bandero. Do not be alarmed, this is standard protocol.”

Currently, you were in San Bandero. The heart of Pruye. The soldiers all surrounded the city and held their rifles close to themselves. You watched as the tanks all moved inward, closer to the tower.

“They’re locking us in…” you spoke faintly as you quickly walked back inside the canteen. Esme and Franco exchanged a look as they followed behind you, seemingly confused.

“This isn’t protection like she claims- no. She’s locking us inside the city-“ you frantically said as you got your bag and jacket.

“Y/n, slow down. How do you even know that?” Franco put a hand on your shoulder to calm you down.

You shook your head as you swung your jacket around your shoulders, “I don’t. But knowing her… she’s hiding something and I don’t want to be here for that.”

You walked out of the canteen and walked down the sidewalk towards where the soldiers were blocking an exit. As you neared them, a soldier held out his rifle and aimed at you as he spoke through his helmet, “Turn back around. You cannot leave the area.”

You raised your hands in the air and took a step forward, resulting in the other soldiers pointing their guns at you, “I said- turn back around! Now!”

With a glare you slowly took steps back as you walked away from them. They weren’t letting people out which meant that they were also not letting people in.

As you walked back to the canteen, you noticed how people began to get out of their houses and grow confused at the soldiers. Why were they blocking the exits and entries of the city?

Right as you were about to walk inside the canteen, shots were fired. You crouched down to the floor and covered your head with your arms as you looked over your shoulder and saw soldiers shooting the civilians with weapons launching at them.

Your eyes widened at the sight of the people with machetes and guns fight each other. The sound of bodies falling down to the floor as well as the blood seeping through their lifeless bodies, staining the cement under them.

Rain began to pour down, making it hard for the soldiers to see through their helmets. You watched as a person stabbed a soldier from behind with their knife but then fall to the ground dead as the soldier behind them shot them in the head.

This was war.

Leon was called to the main office of the organization he was currently working at. Which was for the government. He found himself inside the White House again for some reason.

As he waited inside a room, he couldn’t help but notice how bright and sunny the weather had been lately. Which was a contrast to what he felt. Drained and exhausted.

The door opened gently and two men dressed in expensive suits stepped inside with a file in their hands. They approached where Leon had been sitting and sat on the couch across from him.

“Good news, your request for a getaway vacation has been approved,” one of the men, balding and tired, said as he laid the file on the coffee table between them. Leon leaned forward to pick it up and go through it.

“And the bad news?” Leon asked without glancing at them.

The other cleared his throat before speaking, “You’re being sent to another virus mission.”

Leon looked up from the file to stare at the two men. Another mission about the virus, when will it ever end?

He sighed as he closed the file and leaned back against the couch, “So another zombie apocalypse. Great, just what I fucking needed…” he whispered as he put the file back on the coffee table, “No.”

“No? What do you mean no? This is important, people’s lives are at risk and we can’t-“ Leon quickly interrupted the balding man.

“You can’t save everyone when it comes to this. I’ve seen it many times, why don’t you all just do what you did back in Raccoon City, huh? Bomb them until there’s no trace of the virus,” Leon got up and began to walk towards the door.

“This is different,” the other man said, causing Leon to stop in his tracks. “This isn’t like the virus you’ve seen before… this is much more dangerous.”

Leon turned around to look at the two of them before walking back to sit on the couch. “Go on.”

“Ahem-“ the man continued, “South America. The branch wants you to go over there and retrieve a sample of the virus. That’s all you have to do. Once you give us the sample, we’ll proceed from there and you’ll get your vacation.”

Leon narrowed his eyes at him, growing suspicious of how easy the mission sounds, “You aren’t telling me everything, are you?”

The balding man laughed nervously and readjusted his black tie, “Not per se-“

“There’s a revolution going on in the country of Pruye where you’re being sent to. They mutated the virus’s genetic code into something more dangerous and they’re using it as medicine- I believe you know where this is going,” the other man said.

Leon nodded and kept quiet as the man talked, “The government is planning on distributing this ‘medicine’ to other countries but we cannot let them. Your mission is not only to retrieve a sample but to also stop the spread and destroy the evidence of the virus ever existing. You will be given a team- both air and land to help you complete your mission. Your task is not let others know the real reason why you’re there. You are acting as a soldier proving aid to the government. Once you have retrieved the virus sample, we will pull you out of the country and bring you back.”

“This time I’m actually getting help. Nice,” Leon replied sarcastically. It was obvious that Leon wasn’t all too excited about this. He’s been used as a killing machine ever since Raccoon City. He’s been tossed around the globe with expectations of solving everyone’s issues. And he’s tired. He’s 38, he should be worrying about other things other than war and death.

His hands rested on his thighs as he began to stand up from the couch, “When do I leave?”

“First thing in the morning, you’ll be on a private plane provided by the government,” the balding man answered.

Leon nodded before finally walking towards the door and exiting the room. As he walked down the halls of the White House, he wondered what life would be like for him. Is this all he’s ever going to do? Was his life purpose about fighting and killing? He couldn’t wait to retire.

Smoke covered the entire block. Rain poured down harshly against your skin, causing your hair to stick to you like glue. The smell was of gunpowder and metallic blood infiltrated your nose. A vision full of haze as you stood up from being crouched down on the floor.

Blood.

A lot of blood.

They brought tanks and a helicopter. “¡Al suelo!” Someone yelled.

You got down on the floor as an incoming tank shot a building, causing it to crumble down just a few feet away from the canteen. Your eyes widened in horror at the sight.

People screamed- from pain and from the fight. You got up and ran to try and find Franco and Esme. You needed to get them out of here now.

You staggered as you ran towards the canteen. The debris that had fallen over from the building covering the road. You jumped and ducked as soldiers hid behind them and shot at anyone who they deemed a threat.

Panting through the bloodied streets, you had reached the canteen. You heard groaning and some yelling more up ahead.

You didn’t know what took over you but you found yourself running towards that sound. As you approached the yelling, you saw that Esme had been hit by a piece of debris from the collapsed building. Her leg had been squished and she desperately tried to pry the piece off of her. You kneeled down beside her and pushed the debris aside, watching in horror what had happened to her leg.

Her bone broke and penetrated her skin. Snapped in half like a twig. There was blood pooling down her leg. You froze, you didn’t know what to do. You weren’t a medic but you also weren’t heartless enough to leave her.

You took off your jacket and applied it to her wound, hoping you could at least stop the bleeding. She gripped your arm as she let out a bloody scream in pain.

“Estoy aquí- respira. Todo va estar bien-“ you tried to calm her down but she let out another yell, “y/n it hurts- grragh”

Of course it hurt, her bone was poking out of her skin.

“Where’s Franco?” You asked as you tried to get her distracted from the pain.

She didn’t respond and instead pointed to a mountain of rubble. Metal rods and pieces of cement fell down on top of people. You could see limb pieces- arm, legs. But you couldn’t recognize all of them.

Your eyes followed her finger as she pointed to the gore display.

“He’s under there…” she replied weakly and let out another pained scream.

You felt your breath catch in your throat as your heart rate quickened. Slowly standing up, you walked over to the mountain of rubble. “Franco?” You called out in a panicked tone.

Silence.

You hurriedly kneeled in front of the mountain and hastily moved the rubble away. Taking piece by piece as you denied the thoughts scurrying through your head.

Almost immediately, your heart dropped down to your stomach as you recognize the veteran necklace. With shaky hands, you reached for the necklace and took it.

Franco was dead.

Your vision blurred as you held the necklace on your chest. You let out a blood curdling scream as you trembled in horror.

The ground shook as more bombs blew off. Troops stampeded through the streets, their weapons aimed at the citizens of San Bandero.

You went back to Esme and tried to pick her up, “Come on,” you grunted as she leaned her weight on you.

Dragging her alongside you, you managed to walk further away from the city and towards the exit. The soldiers bordering the entry/exit road had been killed and now laid there lifeless. Their uniforms stained with the red tint of what could be assumed was their blood. Maybe it was also someone else’s.

As you managed to get her out of the city, you walked through the dense forest and laid her down on the ground as she leaned against a tree.

“I’m going to get help- stay here and don’t make a single sound-“

“Leave me,” Esme interrupted you. Her gaze defeated and weak as she looked up at you. “I’m only going to slow you down. You need to get out here…”

Your eyes softened at her, “I can’t leave you, Esme. You’re coming with me-“

“For fuck’s sake y/n! Just go!” She cut you off again. She sighed and closed her eyes. “Just go…”

You stared at her in silence, your feet frozen in place.

“Esme…”

“Just go. I’m not going to live, you saw what they were doing to us… please, Y/n… just go…” she rolled her head back against the tree and grunted softly in pain.

You stared at her in silence as you contemplated your next actions.

“Y/n, go to La Séten mountain…” she heaved as she tried to breathe, “There’s- there’s a group of people who can help you, give them this.”

She weakly handed you a piece of paper with writing on it. You took it and put it in your pocket as you nodded shortly.

“I will…” you whispered as you looked into her amber eyes, “I’m sorry, Esme…”

Esme gave you a weak and faint smile, “Don’t be sorry… promise you’ll live… for me…”

You nodded and held her hand as your eyes welled up in tears, “I will.”

You leaned closer to her and gave her forehead a gentle kiss. She closed her eyes and exhaled for the last time in her life.

You stifled a sob as you let go of her hand. You’ve lost Franco and now Esme too.

You walked through the forest, making your way to the mountain Esme mentioned.

“Madam President, the city states have been seized and are under troop surveillance.”

“Wonderful, let the Chief in Command proceed with the plan. We mustn’t delay the delivery.”

“Yes, Madam President,” the female assistant walked out of the President’s office, the same one when the announcement was first made. President Mendez let out a soft hum and stared down at the files in her hands.

“Tonight, we will change lives Doctor Ramirez,” she spoke as Doctor Ramirez walked closer to her desk.

“Yes, we will Madam President and it’s all thanks to your help. Without your sponsorship, we couldn’t have progressed so quickly with our research,” Doctor Ramirez was a tall and lanky man with glasses. His hair was neatly parted at the side and his white coat shielded the suit he was wearing underneath. He exuded wealth and power, much like the President herself.

President Mendez laughed and clapped her hands slowly, “Oh.. Doctor Ramirez, you are too humble.”

“Not all Madam President… not at all,” he replied with a quiet tone. His eyes unreadable.

The path to La Sénte Mountain was a rough one. It’s one of the biggest mountains in San Bandero that has been classified as unreachable. There was an abandoned trail that originally was used for horse riding but ever since the country got ruled over by President Mendez, everything turned industrial.

Trees aligned the rail as the tall grass reached up your shins. It had gotten dark by the time the bombs and the shootings all faded in the background. As you took a step up, you turned back to look at the city that was once your home become occupied by soldiers. The helicopter flashed its light in search for citizens. There was smoke and fire coming out of the city from where you stood.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. With a sigh, you continued your trail up the mountain. Unknown to you that you were being watched by eyes hidden in the grass, trees, and bushes.

Hours passed and it was now some time past midnight. You took a break to catch your breath. Sitting down on a rock, you took out the piece of paper Esme gave you.

It was a small map with the word ‘Insurgents’ on it. The map was a layout of Pruye, it contained information about where each government and army building was located around the coast as well as the center of the country.

You tucked it back into your pocket not before hearing a twig snap. Anxiety quickly coursed through your veins and you got up to leave. Whatever was out there was probably not friendly given the current uprising in the country.

With a force against your feet, you kept climbing up the mountain. Climbing for what felt hours until you saw an orange light emitting from a cave.

Fire. Someone had lit up a camp inside a cave in the mountain.

You gripped the edge of the cave and pulled your body up. As you entered, you were immediately met with guns pointed at you. There were about four men pointing their rifles at you as you climbed up. A woman came up to you and dragged you up by your arm, helping you stand on your feet.

There was a table right in the center of the cave with a lantern. And behind that table stood a woman with a scar across her face. Her eye a different color as the scar ran right through it.

“Hold your weapons,” she raised her hand to stop the men from shooting you. The men took two steps back and slowly lowered their weapons. The woman who helped you up left your side and walked back to where the other woman was standing.

“I assume you were told about us,” she began as she went around the table and walked to stand in front of you. She was taller than you by at least two inches. Her hair was short and black. Her skin tanned and full of freckles.

You nodded and took out the note Esme gave you, “A friend of mine told me to come here.”

The woman took the note and inspected it before giving it to the woman who helped you up.

“Another recruit, Esme was really good at recruiting more people,” she said casually. Your eyes widened, she knew Esme?

“I don’t suppose you know what we do or who we are?” She walked back to the table and motioned for you to follow behind her.

As you neared the table, there were papers scattered around messily. Maps and files with important information. The woman turned to you and took out her hand for a handshake, “Name’s Yanira. Welcome to Insurgents.”

You took her hand and shook it with a firm grip, “Insurgents? What are you guys?”

She let go of your hand and focused back down on the table, “We are an organization looking to overthrow President Mendez from her position. She and her minions have been controlling our land far too long. It’s time we claim back what’s ours.”

An anti-government group. And they’re fighting the Pruyanian government for freedom. You furrowed your brows and stared down at the table as well as Yarina kept speaking, “We need as many people as possible if we want to make this happen. You’ve seen how they treat people back in the city states. Why don’t you join us?”

You looked at her with wide eyes, “What? Why would you want me to join? I don’t even know how to shoot a gun.”

Yarina chuckled softly, “You’ll learn. We’ve got plenty of people who can teach you different things,” she leaned closer to you, “We’ve been preparing for this moment. All we need is more help. And you- I have a feeling you can help us big time,” she whispered and then leaned away.

She focused back on the table and continued discussing whatever it was that she was talking to the other people.

Join them? You can help them? Up until now you were just a girl working in a canteen living paycheck to paycheck. And now everything turned upside down. The army has taken control of four city states and you’ve lost more people.

It was no lie that a war was coming but to actually partake in it was terrifying, at least to you. But witnessing how everyone seemed to have the spirit and the faith that everything will work out in their favor is beginning to persuade you.

What more do you have to lose? You’ve lost your family and now your friends. It’s time to fight back for what was once yours.

“Okay,” you nodded slowly and looked at Yarina.

“I’ll join you.”

Yarina smiled brightly and hung an arm around your shoulders, celebrating with the other insurgents.

It all felt so overwhelming yet so real. This was happening and there was no turning back.

“Okay, here’s everything you need to know so far,” Yarina pointed to the map.

“The coast has been guarded up by the navy army of Pruye. President Mendez sent out an order to not let anyone in or out of the country. The ports have been closed and the soldiers are patrolling the beach.”

She then pointed to the center of Pruye, right on San Bandero, “San Bandero has become the military center of the country and is where most of the soldiers have been patrolling. This is where their control comes from. If we can target and destroy their center from this point then we have a chance at liberating the other city states.”

You furrowed your brows, “It’s not easy. I’ve seen what they brought. Tanks and helicopters. Are you sure you want to target them first? What about the civilians?”

Yarina let out a soft exhale, “We can perform an underground evacuation- some of our soldiers will go in the sewers and take people out of the city towards the forest. Once the people have been evacuated, we will proceed and attack the main tower.” She then pointed to a tall building colored in red right in the middle of the map.

“This is where most of the military controls the country. If we can hijack and steal their data, then we can convince the rest of the country to join us. And we can also delay the soldiers from terrorizing other city states.”

She already had a plan for everything. No wonder Esme knew about this. If this group was this good then that means that there’s hope for liberation.

“Okay…” you began slowly, “What do you need me to do?”

“You, my friend, have a special mission,” she slid a piece of paper your way.

“The United States will send some troops over here to aid President Mendez. I want you to go back to San Bandero with a few of my people and infiltrate their meeting location,” her finger pointed to another building on the map, “This place is called La Fundación de Membario. It is heavily guarded by soldiers. The place is where President Mendez is currently staying at. She’s going to personally welcome the Americans and give them a run down of what Pruye has been up to. She’ll most likely tell them about us and knowing her-“ her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth as she stared at you.

“She’ll want the Americans to target us.”

You pinched your brows together and looked back down at the files of the American soldiers that were expected to come, “But why is the U.S. sending their military over here?”

“Because President Mendez sent an emergency alert to their President. She declared her country was threatened by us and needed backup. So, the U.S. playing God in all wars- decided to send their people over here to control us.”

You looked up at her from the files as she spoke again, “But you know what I think? I think they don’t stand a chance against us. We know the country better than anyone. They’ll die right before they can touch land,” she replied quietly.

She sounded like she wasn’t lying. It was a promise to herself and to the people of Pruye.

“When do I start?” You asked after putting the files back down on the table.

“Tomorrow morning. You can stay at our camp and we’ll teach you the basics. For now, you should rest. We’ve a long day tomorrow,” she patted your shoulder and walked deeper into the cave. The other insurgents gave you a look and some gave you a firm nod as they followed their leader.

You exhaled shakily as you looked out the cave. From now on, you were a soldier. No longer the girl working in a canteen. That life was long gone.

You were now part of the Revolution.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil #id leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon #di leon

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jooniperbonsai · 1 month

Text

Thanks for the Sub (ksj) | Chapter Three

Pairing: Camboy!Seokjin x Gamer!Reader (afab)

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 14.9k

Release date: March 24, 2024

Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, camboy au, gamer au, comedy, crack, slow burn (?), coworkers/boss/friends to lovers, an exploration of adults in their late 20s/early 30s

Summary: Now that Seokjin has agreed to come over and help you practice for your streams, you find there's a lot more you want to do with him than actually prepare for this stream.

Chapter Warnings: Anxiety and panic attacks HEAVILY referenced in this chapter, familial verbal and emotional abuse that might be triggering to some (slamming of doors, manipulative behaviors), references to puberty, implied chubby/fat reader, references to disordered eating (not main characters), references to oral (f), mention of sub drop, Seokjin is STRONG and the king of consent, lots of little domestic moments idk let's hope I didn't forget anything

a/n: Ahh finally, I'm so sorry it took so long to get to you. I have been very busy in my little corner of reality so I haven't had a chance to really dive back in for a while. I hope you enjoy more of the backstory to the characters in this one, I found pulling away from the spicy bits a little necessary so I could learn more about my characters as they grow.

I'll be in South Korea these next few weeks for my birthday, so I might be mostly offline but I'll enjoy looking at your comments, tags, questions, etc, while I'm away! Thanks for your patience. Enjoy! -h

This, she thinks, is goodbye. Her body sprawled in the silk sheets of August’s chamber, head thrust back onto the plush pillows. Never again in her life did she think she would see the dark beams of his ceiling again, yet now, her legs bent and open for him, his lips eagerly suckling her inner thigh, she couldn’t imagine life any other way.

How many times had she counted each knot in the wood above her, her eyes tracing the swirl and swell of the grain while August swirled the swell of her sex? Perfectly matched in this way, as if he were reading her like a map he’d crafted himself. He knew her. Knew all of her, how the heady moan leaving her throat now was a sign she was becoming impatient with his thorough ministrations.

She dared to risk a glance down, only to see him watching her intently, devilishly choosing that moment to latch himself onto her, a wicked smirk flashing across his face as she elicited a hearty gasp.

“August,” she breathed, instinctively tangling her fingers through his newly-raven hair, dyed dark now to comply with his family’s request. While his once-bleached locks were the definite sign of his rebellion, a sign that he would fight against the ruling state and their convoluted and asinine laws that prevented royalty from marrying a commoner, she admitted his natural hair suited him more. He looked less harsh this way, his delicate skin creamy and soft as she skimmed her fingertips across his cheek.

“No,” he breathed into her sex, sending a delightful shiver down her spine.

Something about the glint in his eye as he feasted upon her spelled out more than simple lust. No, she forbade herself to think that this was more than a parting gift, a transaction before she would be cast aside for his betrothed.

“Please,” she begged, though she knew she was asking for many things in that request. Please end the hunger between her legs, please end his engagement. Please take her to bed tonight and tomorrow and every night after. Please love me.

“Say my name,” he growled, sitting up to wipe his mouth with the back of his robe sleeve.

“August,” she called but he only chuckled darkly, the cool blue of the fabric cascading around him.

She felt so exposed. Here she was, completely naked, and yet he hadn’t even begun to undress. It felt cold, final, and sickening. Her eyes roved his body, looking for more skin, anything to keep her close to him at this moment, but he was so carefully tucked away.

“August,” she said again and he shook his head.

“That’s not my name,” he argued.

Her eyebrows knit together, and she reached forward, needing now more than ever to touch him. She was drowning fast in the night, the blue robes sweeping over both their bodies as he leaned closer, finally letting her grip his forearm as she groped around. He was drifting from her in one way or another, his body a boat on the water that was capsizing her under his waves.

“I–I can’t. I can’t see you. I–.” A rush of white hot panic surged into her throat, constricting her words. As she began drowning, August moved quickly, disrobing himself and pulling her into his embrace. She gasped for air as she wrenched out a heavy sob, her nipples stroking the soft hairs on his chest, yet she ignored the sensation instead for the thing she needed more: his heartbeat.

There, in his chest, was the melodic thrum that sought to calm her erratic one, calling her home to him in the cold night air.

“Breathe, Petal,” he commanded, and she felt a rush of air fall from her lungs as she remembered once more to do the most simple of human tendencies. His arms laced around her back, where the soft tracing of his fingers along her spine brought her back into herself.

“I’m sorry,” she cried, a prick of tears falling despite her best efforts to appear unaffected.

He hummed in response.

“Stay with me,” he whispered, and she felt her joints loosen as she molded herself further into his embrace.

“I want to,” she replied, voice unsteady. “Sugar, please just hold me.”

He melted into her, a pool of warmth overtaking him as he absorbed her nickname. He kissed her forehead, her temples, everywhere his mouth could spread some of the sweetness.

After long, she hummed a satisfied sound through her lips, and her hips began rocking against him. He laid her back down, his eyes searching hers before the corner of his mouth ticked into a smirk.

“You with me?” he asked, his smirk becoming a full grin as she bucked further toward him, desperate and wanting. He was back, the ever-changing prince who within a blink of an eye could transform the room into his sensual paradise.

August’s hand skimmed up her calf and back between her thighs, resting up against her heat.

“August,” she panted, and he chuckled darkly, the scar over his eye almost glowing in the moonlight.

“I told you that’s not my name,” he warned, sliding his fingers into her wet folds.

“Seokjin,” you said, his name caught in your throat as he continued moving.

“Good girl,” he coaxed, two of his fingers covering the edges of your clit as he began rolling it under his touch.

“Fuck.”

The wooden beams were gone. Now it was the familiar white plaster that you often looked at, trying to remember what constellations were above during what season, though you could never see the stars anyway in this part of the city.

Seokjin pulled himself up off the chamber bed, though the chamber was hazy, almost pixelated as you realized around you it was not the chamber of August and his beloved, but your small bedroom.

“Focus,” he commanded, and your eyes flashed over to Seokjin, who was naked and sweaty, his chest flush like it was when you’d seen him before. His fingers roamed over your calf and he lifted you leg at an angle, exposing your pussy to the cool air.

Seokjin licked his lips and began swirling his fingers around your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

“You gonna be good for me?” he asked and you moaned an affirmative as you felt the first of his fingers tip into you.

“Nuh uh, use your words, Y/N.”

You opened your mouth to beg but found no words could come out. He cocked his head, confused. Seokjin reached over to touch your face. You felt nothing.

“What–”

The plop of the book hitting the floor jars you awake. At some point in reading, you must’ve dozed off, your world and the book world merging into a hot, overwhelming dream that has your heart racing.

He’s in your mind again, Seokjin. And it really is all your fault. Because you’ve spent the rest of your weekend and the first half of this week texting him with a plan to put this After Dark stream into place, an idea that you hadn’t really thought through before proposing to him.

You know you want this, to feel at ease in your body and confident to hold your own on streams. Especially since the option to quit is becoming less and less of an option. This week, your university confirmed your withdrawal, meaning that for the next few months you’ll be focusing on streaming and working more shifts at the restaurant to try and replenish your income for the summer term.

And that also means you’ll be seeing Seokjin a lot more often. Your stomach does a tiny flip just thinking about it.

Now with him being around you everywhere, all the time, your subconscious has been drifting to dreams of him, and every waking thought is somehow finding a way to wiggle him in. At the market this morning, you were walking through the produce section where you noticed a large pile of mangoes on sale. Does Seokjin like mangoes? you’d wondered. That shirt on the mannequin would look good on Seokjin. That dog looks like the one in the old picture in Seokjin’s office. What would Seokjin think about this recurring ad?

It’s becoming relentless. So much so that you also find yourself asking him random questions to take the edge off.

Me 1:47PM: Thoughts about fruit on pizza.

Seokjin 1:50PM: Are you asking because we are having pizza later?

Me 1:51PM: No I was just wondering

Me 1:51PM: Unless you want that later? I can get us some

Me 1:51PM: I’ll pay

Seokjin 1:51PM: No you will not! I’ll pay

Seokjin 1:53PM: Also depends on the kind of fruit

Seokjin 1:53PM: Never had blueberries on pizza.

Seokjin 1:54PM: But I would maybe try it. Pineapple is fine though.

Seokjin 1:55PM: I’ll pick up the pizza on the way over. Be there at 6.

Seokjin agreed to stop by today to do some roleplay exercises for you to practice before your stream later tonight. He thought it was important that you run through the full scale of situations you might be presented with so you could say no firmly but without risking losing your viewership, two things equally at odds with each other for you most of the time.

You look for your phone in the mess of your couch cushions, assuming that at some point in your impromptu nap, it slunk down between the crack. Sure enough, you find it nestled between two cushions, the comfort of its weight in your hand dismissing some of the panic when you see it’s only 4:30. He hasn’t texted, which means he hasn’t canceled.

You remember from his stream last week that he maintains a tempered persona, never giving too much or too little away to his viewers. He’d exuded such self control. Is he always like that?

You know he mostly keeps it together at work, but that amount of restraint shocks you. You’re always wondering what it is that will make him snap. Sure, you’ve seen him annoyed, or occasionally yelling at your coworkers, but never rageful. Never out of control. That just isn’t Seokjin.

Determined to keep your hands busy while you wait for him to arrive, you busy yourself tidying, though your apartment is scarily clear because you’ve been frantically cleaning all day. You walk into the kitchen, a small, narrow room that has never been very welcoming as a cooking space. Your old, banged up fridge has dents from where the door has opened too quickly and rocketed into the oven handle, leaving a jagged, metal scar on the surface.

When you’d first moved in, you didn’t understand how something could be so damaged, but within the first week, it became apparent how heavy and quickly the door swung into it, probably because the floors, and thus everything else, doesn’t sit exactly level in the space, meaning that everything that you bake comes out at an angle, and everything else always falls to one side of the pan, making things uneven. Every time you use your rolling pin, you have to place it on an oven mitt or else you risk it rolling into the large gap between the countertop and the wall.

Your apartment is one that you’ve done your best to uplift. While your kitchen is somewhat of a hellhole, with a buzzing fluorescent light that sounds almost like it’s mocking you when you dare to cook anything in it, the rest of your space has some sense of charm to it.

There’s a large window facing the back parking lot of the building, which some may find less exciting because it isn’t exuding some Instagram-worthy backdrop of urban living, but you benefit from the fact that there’s a large, undeveloped lot in your view, with some plum trees that will bloom in the next few weeks, and the soft chartreuse green that ushers in the early spring grasses is slowly starting to brighten in hue.

Some summer nights, you crack your window and hear the loud chattering of cicadas and birds as they rustle through the trees, and it helps to distract from the usual traffic noises that ricochet off the other buildings around you.

You have some small herbs growing on the windowsill, as well as some salvaged green onion ends you’d tossed into an empty yogurt pot with soil and let take off. A sad excuse for a dining table is propped against it with two mismatched chairs.

An oversized, well-loved, brown couch you got for a steal from one of those local posting groups takes up a large chunk of your living room, which will probably have to be sawed in half to get out of your space if you ever move. It weighs a ton and you can’t even shuffle it into a better angle toward your television, which has resulted in one side of the couch being further worn-down and frumpy from the creases of you sitting in the same spot day after day. The other side usually houses a variety of character plushies and a large pink knit blanket you swaddle yourself in regularly. Today, everything is given a place, and the blanket is folded and resting on the back of the couch.

The rest of your apartment is a collection of stuff: some mismatched bookshelves shoved into one corner with all your smutty reads and figurines, postcards and repurposed mailers you’ve collaged into some type of wall art, and Barry, your Big Mouth Bass that knows one song and one song only: “Take Me to the River”.

Due to your lack of space in your cozy apartment, your desk and gaming set-up are in your room. During streams, you tote out a collapsible green screen to give yourself at least some privacy, but behind the screen is your bed you’ve cluttered with some throw pillows, a dresser whose drawers are so warped they don’t fully close, the nightstand which hides your collection of sex toys, and that’s about it. As the months have progressed, your schoolwork has moved from being the main event on the desk to now being crammed into the shallow drawers beneath. Beyond that, your PC and streaming supplies take up the rest of the space in your room.

After fussing with everything for a whole ten minutes, you retreat from your bedroom, heading into the hellscape kitchen to stare at the groceries you’ve just bought.

A jar of kimchi, some beets, and a comically large bag of carrots you impulse bought greet you. You sigh. Yes, this is what you’ll have to do to make time pass. Pulling the items from the fridge, you shuffle around to gather your cutting board from its slot next to the microwave, and find your good knife set in the drawer.

One of the conditions you were given upon being hired at the restaurant was to purchase your own set of knives. “It teaches you how to respect the tools before you. Having pride in your knives ensures you’ll serve food with pride,” Mr. Kim had told you.

When you shared that knowledge with Seokjin he snorted. “It ensures you’ll not damage our own knives that he’s too cheap to replace is what he means.”

Regardless, you now own a decent quality set of cutting knives, perfect for what you need them for. You scrub and lightly peel the carrots to trim away the dirt and uneven shapes adorning the outside.

Then, you begin your setup, placing your cutting board with a kitchen towel near the end to catch any rollaway carrots you’re bound to encounter during your task. You snag a large bowl, a rubber jar grip to keep the cutting board in place, and your Chef’s knife from your knife set. You chop up the kimchi and beets, doing a tiny bit of prep by cutting those for later in the week. Then, you begin with the carrots.

You pull from the washed pile and grip your knife, and remember what Seokjin taught you: cut the rounded edge off the carrot so it sits flat on the board. You slice again, then again, stacking the pieces before cutting in the next direction until a pile of neat matchsticks lay before you.

No chaos erupting in the kitchen, no pieces flinging to the floor or a semi-concussion. Just you, the yellow glow of the humming light, and your carrots. You begin the next one. Then again. It’s almost addicting, like the affirmation that you are capable of this, of anything, has started to warm something inside of you.

When was the last time you felt this confident and assured? Felt like you were growing in the right direction? In school, you were used to doing fairly well and understanding the material, but this is different somehow. This is you seeing the results as they pile higher into the bowl. You reach for another and another, washing the rest of the carrots and scrubbing them before continuing. Your hands are now properly stained, the beet juice, gochugaru, and carrot juice making your hands look like you are bleeding, but you don’t care. The ache from your grip, the loud thumping at the door, they don’t mean anything in this moment when it’s you feeling the give of the vegetable as it splits into finer pieces.

“Y/N?!! HELLO ARE YOU OKAY?”

A familiar voice bellows from the hall, another sharp thunk hitting the metal door. Seokjin.

Your eyes rip to the clock on the oven. It’s already five minutes past six. You’ve been cutting carrots for about an hour.

Hastily, you rinse your hands, ignoring the sting as the cold water spurts from the faucet. You grab the kitchen towel off the oven handle, and rush to the door.

You barely have it unlocked before Seokjin barges in, two large pizza boxes and a six pack of beer in his hands as he steps over the threshold. He smells faintly of mint and eucalyptus.

Seokjin whips in your direction, scanning his eyes over your face and down your body.

“Are you hurt? Are you okay?” His eyes are wide, his pupils blown out as he fervently looks you up and down, gasping as he takes in your hands. “What happened?”

“What? No, no I’m fine!” You hold one hand up in his direction, taking the kitchen towel and rubbing it into your palm for good measure. “They’re stained. Um, I was cutting vegetables.”

His eyes flit to the direction of the kitchen, where the light is still on and buzzing, and you can just make out the chopping board on the counter. Now assured you’re not injured, Seokjin recovers, stepping out of his shoes and padding into the kitchen.

“Whoa, you really were going to town in here with the carrots weren’t you? I thought I could smell it on you.”

Your cheeks flood with heat. “Well, you said I had to practice.”

Seokjin chuckles, shaking his head in amusement before holding up the six pack. “Uh, I brought beer. I don’t know if you like it or not but I feel like it goes really well with pizza.”

You smile. “I’m not sure if getting me wasted is the solution to setting boundaries with my stream. Doesn’t alcohol lower your inhibitions?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Are you planning on finishing off this entire six pack by yourself and getting trashed? Much less beer that is…” He squints at the packaging. “...four percent alcohol?”

You laugh. “No, I suppose not. Thank you.” You take the case from his hands and pluck two bottles from the cardboard before putting the rest in the fridge. Holding the cold bottle in your hands, you grimace.

“What’s wrong? Do you not like this brand?” Seokjin asks.

You shake your head. “No, it’s not that. Um, I don’t really drink often so I don’t actually own a bottle opener.”

Seokjin frowns and looks around your kitchen, grazing his hand along the chipped laminate counters. Then he takes the bottle in his hand and whacks it down on the counter edge on an angle. The cap pops off, a subtle wisp of fog puffing from the top. He smirks, proud. He gestures for you to hand him your bottle.

With ease, he pops off the second cap and deposits it back into your hands.

Your jaw hangs slack. “Wh-how did you do that?” you ask.

He chuckles. “There’s a science to it, angles. I’m just glad I didn’t take a chunk of the counter with me. I’ve done that before.”

“And you risked my counter top just now?”

He snorts. “Come on, did anything happen? A little bit of trust would be nice, Y/N.” He glances at the giant bowl of cut carrots. “Well, you’ve certainly improved. What are you going to make with all those?”

You pull your lips into a thin line. You hadn’t thought about it. Your silence seems to tip Seokjin off to that as well, because after a sip of beer, he sets his bottle on the back end of the counter, rolling up his sleeves and scooting over to the sink to wash his hands.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Cooking,” he replies simply. “Do you have flour? Green onions?”

You nod. “Okay, get those. I’ll also need some soybean paste if you have it, vegetable oil, salt, and sugar.”

You furrow your brows. You know this recipe from the restaurant. “You’re making jeon? But, we already have pizza.”

“We can have the pizza as an appetizer. Jeon will be the main course.”

You laugh. “How much do you think I eat?”

“Not much. But you see, I am very hungry.” Heat shoots to your core. You glance over at Seokjin, who is looking at you amused as he squeezes the carrots between his hands to wring out the excess juice.

You didn’t really notice before, but Seokjin looks effortlessly cool, a loose pink linen button down framing his broad shoulders. He’s left the top two buttons undone, exposing the white t-shirt he wears underneath. Lighter wash jeans cover his strong thighs. If a stranger ever passed him on the street, they might think he’s too cool for them, too serious or vain.

But, there are notes of him everywhere in this outfit that suggests the break in the persona. One of the buttons in the middle of his shirt has popped open, a few hairs on the back of his head are cowlicked out of place, and on his feet are a pair of neon green Chikorita Pokemon socks. You find it impossible to hide your amusement.

“Ah, got it. Nice socks by the way,” you joke, trying to distract from the singing heat and close proximity. You can’t help but think about the last time you and Seokjin were in such confined spaces and how that ended up. “Didn’t know you were going to use your feet later to guide an airplane into landing.”

“Well, I figured it was a necessary backup in case your hands weren’t bright enough.” He nods toward you. You laugh.

“Touché.”

You open your upper cabinet. The paper bag of flour sits on the middle shelf, which you usually climb onto the counter to reach, but with Seokjin in the kitchen, there’s even less space than usual. You stretch, lifting onto your tiptoes. Your fingertips brush the bag, but it’s not enough to move it. As you try to angle yourself better, you see two large hands come above yours, Seokjin easily grabbing the flour off the shelf to set down onto the counter.

You feel his body heat behind you, his shirt brushing the small of your back from where your own rode up during your stretch, and a swell of goosebumps rise on your arms from the gentle tickle.

“There,” Seokjin says softly into your ear, almost breathless. “Don’t want to have any more kitchen related incidents, do we?” Too soon, he moves away, his warmth, the subtle note of his cologne fading into the smell of the green onions he’s set next to your not-so-glorious prep space.

Suddenly, he scoffs. You turn toward him. “What?”

“Really, Y/N? Have you learned nothing?” The heat in your core immediately dissipates, welcoming a familiar sour stroke of shame as you try to put together what you’ve missed. How did you fuck this up? What haven’t you learned? When you focus on what he’s pointing at, you realize he isn’t angry. He’s teasing you.

Your knife is unsheathed on the cutting board, abandoned in your haste to let him in. “When are you ever going to learn basic kitchen safety?” he laughs. The prick of embarrassment dissolves, Seokjin’s laugh soothing the ache.

You smile and shrug. “In my defense, I didn’t have the time to put it away or in the sink because you were disturbing the peace by practically breaking my door down.”

He rolls his eyes and sighs. “Well excuse me for wanting to ensure your safety. Now where’s that soybean paste?”

Seokjin had been sitting on, or practically in your couch for the last twenty minutes as you ran through various scenarios and questions you were likely to experience while streaming. Your old couch was comfy, but as you’d practiced longer, he felt he was shrinking, the cushions settling further and further down. That, he thought, was probably going to hurt to climb out when the time came.

Despite the size and outdated condition your apartment was in, he was fascinated with how you’d chosen to decorate it, as if everything had its own place. You had an impressive collection of colorful books on a bookshelf, framed in with little knick-knacks and figurines of your favorite characters or collectibles. One large sunny window was decorated with stickers that acted as prisms, sending rainbow beams across your floor at a certain point in the day. A photo of a very young you and two people he assumed were your parents leaning against a guard rail over a canyon was framed and hung next to a giant plastic fish.

No, you didn’t have much. It was clear you’d thrifted or trash picked most of the furniture in your apartment, with the exception of your computer setup. You’d taken him into your bedroom to show him what system you used, how you’d built your system based on the specifications of your mod, who Seokjin now knew, was also your best friend Wonwoo.

But Seokjin couldn’t help but revel in how well cared for and cozy this small place was, so different from the cold floors of his own apartment. It reminded him of the tiny place he used to live in with his parents. It was familiar, safe.

When he’d come in, he did worry something was wrong. You weren’t one to not answer, attentive in the restaurant to everyone, often whipping your head in someone’s direction the second you heard the first sound of your name slip through someone’s lips. When you didn’t answer, he’d wondered if you’d been injured or worse. As much as he tried not to judge your building, he was a little concerned about the safety precautions put in place. He’d walked straight in, no lock on the front door, no door man. Everyone’s names were blatantly listed on their mailboxes. If anyone wanted to find you, it wouldn’t be hard to do so.

But you were fine, and the acrid worry that had bloomed in him during those five minutes of you not answering had dissolved once he saw your bright smile, and the even brighter colored stains on your hands.

They were still blotchy, though a few runs under the sink with dish soap was helping them fade. As you feathered a hand through your hair, he found himself grinning. The fact that you had acquired a bulk bag of carrots and used them for practice was so endearing to him. He never doubted your dedication to work, but the fact that you were using the techniques he taught you in your kitchen had brightened something in Seokjin he hadn’t even known felt dark.

And he also couldn’t ignore the sense of pride he had as you practically moaned into the jeon you two had made together, the crispy texture and roll of hot oil over your tongue invoking something in you Seokjin couldn’t help but be drawn to. You loved to eat. It was one of the first things he noticed about you, and as creepy as it sounded, also what stoked those first wisps of attraction.

You loved food the way he did, without care, or at least without care the way most people who he was raised around cared. No, you didn’t eat a lot, but when you did, you were all in, bare hands sticky after eating peaches, their juice dribbling down your chin and forearms, joyful hums when you bit into your favorite crunchy snacks from the convenience store.

He remembered growing up the ways in which women, even his mother, were almost afraid of food, afraid of how they would spend hours in the kitchen making heaps of it, pounds of fresh kimchi, grilled fish, decadent soups with tofu and mushrooms and packets of ramyeon, and yet when it was time to eat, they were too busy too or suddenly not hungry, or they would eat a few bites and excuse themselves from the table to clean up.

It was sad, really. Because Seokjin ate and ate fully, and maybe because he wasn’t a woman he didn’t need to worry about his body that way, or maybe because he always had some insane metabolism that didn’t impose weight like it did with others, but it never hit him the same. He loved food.

And clearly so did you, delighted in the meal he gave you, even eliciting a groan as you washed down a bite with your beer. It was like you were grateful for every bite of food that ever entered your mouth.

“You were right. This does taste better together,” you said. He was practically beaming.

He glanced down at the pile of jeon. They weren’t bad, but they were a little uneven. While cooking, he’d noticed that something was a bit off about your kitchen. Your oven and everything else were a bit titled, and it pooled the jeon batter toward one end, making them thicker on one side and harder to cook properly. Your fridge door also was dented, having the similar issue of the weight pushing things to one side. He made a mental note to shove some cardboard under the floor pegs later to help level the appliances.

Your counter situation, though, he couldn’t help. You would just have to keep with your barricade at the end to avoid rolling. But you seemed to be savvy in how you solved the various erroneous features of your apartment, making the best of what you had.

In fact, as Seokjin sat in the crook of your massive couch, he noticed why this side was so sunken; it was the only spot you could actually see the TV from this angle. He wondered if he could shuffle it a little bit more in a better view while you were streaming later, or if you would even notice.

You hovered next to the couch, your bottom lip worried between your teeth. You were nervous about something.

“What is it?” He asked. The time for your stream was growing nearer, and he’d promised he would stay for at least the first half, setting up his laptop in your living room.

“What am I doing?” you groaned and flopped down on the floor, a frustrated wail muffling into the carpet.

“Testing yourself and growing. Listen, Y/N, you know you don’t have to do this, but we’ve been over it daily at this point. You want more money and this is what you’ve decided is the most viable option. After-Dark type streams do make a lot more money, you want to exercise more freedom with yourself, do I need to go on?”

You shook your head. Seokjin chuckled.

“Okay, so–yah, sit up!” You bolted off the carpet and folded your legs underneath you.

“So, you know I’m going to be out here if you need anything. If you need me, I’m just on the other side of that door. Also, we’ve been practicing, right?”

“I know, I just…I’m not like you. I’m not confident, I’m not really easygoing or likable like you are. I can’t dom–command a room or everyone’s attention with my charisma how you can. I’m worried that if I don’t give people what they ask for, they’re just going to leave.”

Seokjin scoffed. He knew that on the outside, in the context of work that you were used to seeing him in, he appeared in charge and control at all times. It was part of the job, to be well tempered and fair and even, maintain a sense of friendliness but firmness, it was common sense. But much of his advice today wasn’t coming from that version of him you knew. A lot of this was insight and experience he’d gained as Jin, who he needed to be to ensure he was meeting his tip goals, or needing to remind everyone he was the one in charge, not them.

Even at work last week, when Seokjin needed to call the distributor because there was some issue with a shipment of produce, it was Jin he was channeling to make the call. If it were Seokjin, he would have been a sweaty, nervous mess. Jin was business, Jin was the one who laid down the law. Seokjin himself?

He was the youngest Kim son, the one who, when his parents’ friends and family members thought he wasn’t listening, gossiped about. Why wasn’t he married? Didn’t he have that fiancée for a while? Oh she had a baby with another man? His boss? Well surely that has been long enough now, right? He had another girlfriend, or found some other salaryman career. At 30, it would be kind of sad if his life wasn’t going anywhere.

And that’s where Seokjin was, after all. Single, a sex worker, or temporary restaurant manager. This morning he’d received a text in the family group chat from his brother with a photo of his nephew kissing his sister-in-law’s bump. He loved his nephew, he loved his brother and was happy for their little family. But he also felt hollow as he opened that picture, like some part of him knew he was never going to truly get to have that for himself.

“Hey,” he said, and your eyes flitted from the floor back to him. “First of all, if they leave they leave, right? Those aren’t the people you want to be on your streams because their energy sucks and they’ll just keep asking more of you. Second,” he cleared his throat, “you are likable. Otherwise you wouldn’t be in this position in the first place, having viewers and subscribers. There has to be a part of you that is genuine there, otherwise everyone will know you’re lying and move away from you. Don’t they say something about how all the best lies are rooted in truth?”

“But I’m not trying to lie to them,” you said meekly.

Seokjin internally kicked himself for saying that. Perhaps suggesting that you lie to everyone wasn’t the best move.

“I know, I mean, that you don’t offer all of yourself, but offer the parts of you that you know are there that are stable. And for the rest of it, fake it until you make it. Until you can feel confident as a streamer, able to set boundaries. Pretend you’re someone else. The person you want to be.” he amended.

Jin was some of the best parts of Seokjin. Maybe even better. Self-assured, knowledgeable about sex and sexuality in ways he hadn’t been when he was with Soon Yi, he could say no to things he’d never been able to say no to his boss about, and things he couldn’t say no to now because the restaurant wasn’t technically his. There were things he could do, ways he could slip some power in there or make decisions, but nothing was really his. Not the way streaming was. That was all for him. And while yes, his friends knew he did it and supported him in their own way (thankfully most of them did not tune in but on occasion Jungkook and Taehyung would hop on when completely wasted to goad him to “release the beast”), it was still a success that couldn’t be shared publicly, even though he didn’t really want to share it anyway, and didn’t really feel successful.

“Is that what you did? Faked it until you made it? Until you were the person you wanted to be?”

His blood ran cold. Were you reading his thoughts? Did you know?

“W-what?”

Oh god, what if you knew? Seokjin would rush out into the night and dig his own grave. Because if anyone else knew what he did, if his parents found out or his brother or you, he was sure he would become the worst parts of himself. A failure again. Once more someone to be quietly gossiped about in rooms when he was in full range of hearing what they had to say. He couldn’t imagine anything more humiliating than you seeing him, your own boss, with a bright pink dildo shoved up his ass as he pandered to thousands of people with whimpers and cries. Especially when he just spent the better half of an hour telling you that you didn’t need to pander to anyone.

Would you think less of him for it? Would you ask him why he was doing gay streaming of all things? His face flushed, probably turning incredibly red with embarrassment.

“With the restaurant,” you said.

He swallowed the thick lump that had formed in his throat and coughed.

“Y-yes,” he stammered. “What you see there. It’s not really me all the time. I’m not always all that confident. But I want to be.”

You nodded quietly and stretched your arms over your head. “That makes sense,” you said as you began to pace. “Okay.”

You still had another two hours before your stream was set to start, and Seokjin could tell you were still on edge. He took a deep breath when you turned away, letting the rush of air into his lungs help cool his face.

“Seokjin?” you asked.

“Yeah?”

“Will you stay until it’s over? I know it’ll be late, and it’s a big ask, but maybe we can eat leftover pizza and debrief?”

He smiled. “Of course.”

He couldn’t imagine a better way to spend his night, and probably early morning if he was honest. Your streams could go well into the wee hours of the morning, and while tomorrow while opening he’d probably be kicking himself for this, right now he didn’t care about anything except the warm tug he felt in his chest as he imagined the two of you sitting on the floor with cold pizza and laughter at 3a.m.

“Thank you. Also, do you think we could have another beer or something? I need to take the edge off. I know I’m overthinking it but I need something to distract me before this stream or I might not show up.”

You didn’t wait for his permission, probably because you weren’t asking for it. You slid into the kitchen and back out with two more cold beers.

“Will you show me how to open these again? I want to try.”

Seokjin struggled a bit against the dip of your couch, but eventually found himself level and close to you, so close in fact that the soft scent of your shampoo was once again permeating his nostrils.

You were intoxicating to him, honestly, and he found himself unable to help himself as he squeezed behind you in your tiny kitchen, inhaling partially into your hair as he walked you through the process.

You fiddled with the bottle for a second, holding yourself at an awkward angle.

“Like this?”

If you did it at this angle, you would be sure to cause the beer to explode, the cap wouldn’t get enough traction to pop off easily.

“Not unless you want to participate in a wet t-shirt contest,” he joked before he even realized how sexually charged that comment was.

You inhaled a little sharply.

He cleared his throat. “Anyway, you’re a little stiff here.” Then, very carefully, he rested his hands onto your hips, gently maneuvering you so you were able to prop your arm up and out of his way so you wouldn’t elbow him in the ribs when you slammed the bottle down.

He kind of hated himself when he had to let go of your waist. His fingers were tingling simply from brushing them along the seam of your shirt, from feeling the warm curve of your hip under his fingers. Why did his hands feel so at home on your body?

Your sharp movement pushed him out of his reverie as you launched the bottle down onto the counter top, the soft plink and your sparkling eyes confirming you were successful.

That’s my girl, he thought. Only you weren’t his girl. You couldn’t be further from his. And as soon as he thought it, he also felt the soft ache in his chest knowing that you would probably never be his. Because you couldn’t. Because you were without a doubt too good for him, and Seokjin knew all that stood between you and the right guy was time. An opportunity. You walk into the right place some day and then boom, there he will be.

He fucking hated that guy already.

You popped the second cap from the bottle and turned around, shoving your body directly into him as you beamed with pride. “See! I did it!” You looked so adorable, your eyelashes long and fluttering as you gazed up at him.

A smile cracked through his gloom. You were like a little sunbeam to him.

“You did,” he acknowledged, and he took the bottle you offered, taking a swig. He waited for you to make the next move, to dislodge your body from the cramped corner of the kitchen, for the magnetic pull of your body to signal it was too close, too intimate so one of you would break away.

But neither of you did. In fact you sighed and moved closer to him, forcing the small of Seokjin’s back to rest up against the handle bar of the oven. It wasn’t comfortable at all, but he didn’t dare move.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked quietly after a while, staring down at the bottle.

“Sure,” he responded.

You nibbled your bottom lip then sighed again, unsure. He felt your warm exhale hit his forearms. Did you really not realize how close you were to him? The smell of you, even that tiny hit of beer breath, was starting to drive him insane.

You shifted yourself even closer.

“Um, it’s going to sound embarrassing to ask this but I just have to.”

Your voice was low now, a tiny whisper coming out of you. Fuck, you were perfect.

“Go ahead,” he whispered back, smirking. “I won’t judge you.”

“Okay, um. Are you…are you bi?”

“Am I by what?”

You fidgeted uncomfortably and pulled back slightly. You raised your eyebrows.

“No, not by as in near, I mean bi as in like, you know, bisexual?” You shifted your gaze away, and then Seokjin felt the question sink in.

He was such a fucking idiot.

God, this is one of the most awkward interactions you’ve ever had in your life and you feel yourself getting hotter and more embarrassed by the second.

Standing in your tiny cramped kitchen, you decided now for no good reason was the best time to ask Seokjin if he’s bisexual. Or really if he’s gay. Because you need to know. Need answers. Or a confirmation that will help kill this crush for good because as of tonight? It’s much, much worse.

Something about watching him cook earlier, specifically in your kitchen, did something to you. The way he touched your hips to show you how to do that beer opening trick, how he looked slumped into your couch, the way he hovered over your bookshelves and belongings with curiosity, and laughed hysterically over Barry once he pressed the button.

He fits here. In your apartment. It isn’t just some stupid fantasy version of him you could imagine. He is real and beautiful and fits into this corner of your life like a perfect puzzle piece.

And if he’s gay, if there’s no chance that he can give you even the fantasy of this, then it all needs to stop. But it’s also so unfair for you to ask this of him. What if he’s not out? What if you’re forcing him to come out and no one knows and all because your insatiable horniness led you to a gay streaming site where you found him now his livelihood and privacy are technically in jeopardy?

Fuck. You can’t do that to him. And suddenly you’re aware of what you just did, how uncool this was for you to just out and ask. Heat claws into your throat as you sit in this shock of silence, clamping down on your airway and leaving your voice in a reedy wheeze as you try to take back your inquiry.

“I–I’m sorry, you don’t need to answer! I’m out of line. Really, I shouldn’t have even asked. Jesus, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you splutter, heart beating erratically, a line of perspiration beginning to form at the back of your neck at an insane speed. How humiliating.

“Whoa, whoa, it’s okay. Relax. Breathe,” Seokjin says. You force a ragged inhale but find yourself coughing, gasping to try to find air in this room that is too small and a million degrees warmer.

You are standing in the hallway outside of the bathroom, rasping for air into your lungs. Your mother has just come home from work, shouting about how you haven’t remembered to take the chicken out of the freezer or done any of the chores she’d asked you to while she was gone.

The day has gotten away from you, a hot summer that is so oppressive no one even wants to go outside. You would get all she asked of you done and more before she returned home. The chicken would be thawed, you’d vacuum and mop the floors, would even wipe down the bathroom sink from all the hair she and your father left in it during his morning shave.

And then you would go to your friend’s house tonight, for the sleepover you’ve been dreaming of, eat lots of candy that her father would bring home from work that yours never let you have. You could tell her about the boy whose parents own the convenience store at the end of the street, and how all summer you’ve been finding an excuse to run up to the shop with your allowance to get a pack of gum or snacks or a can of iced tea you would have to chug outside before you even walked home anyway.

You start junior high this fall. Your period started this spring. Everything around you is changing. Your legs are stocky and getting fuller. Hair is starting to grow everywhere. Your breasts are no longer flat on your chest and while you know all of this is happening, you know why and what is going to happen, that doesn’t change how awful all this feels. Your baby fat isn’t baby fat anymore, and the oils of your skin, your hair, your smell? It all is changing so fast and you hate it. You want to hide. And at least having this boy down the street to talk to, Wonwoo, who makes you feel less like you want to crawl outside of yourself.

Him, and all the books you’ve been reading. Ones where they’re older, girls who you’ll be like soon. Who go to school, and date and have families with problems just like your family has problems. Who run into the woods and fall in love with other families. Who find belonging. There’s comfort there, and that’s why despite all your promises to make the house clean for your mom this morning, you forgot. Because you’d fallen into the world of your book.

And now, your mother has told you that you can’t go to your sleepover anymore. Can’t get away from the house and the heat and your body and the ongoing argument you know your parents are having about finances that they shout about when you’re in the shower and they think you can’t hear them. You can’t eat fun secret snacks or talk about boys or pretend for a second that this isn’t your life. Because it is.

Your throat closes up, the dim lights of the hallway outside the bathroom feel like they’re flickering.

“I told you. I reminded you multiple times! Now we don’t have dinner. Unless you’d like to think of something?” She strips off her stockings, balling them up in her fist. “Unless you want to go out there and buy some expensive meal for us tonight?”

Shame. This is it in its purest form. How wrong you are for not helping. For spending the whole day in your fantasy world with your new friends, ones who aren’t real. All your mother asked for was such simple things, and yet you are unable to just do what she asks.

“When your father gets home, you can tell him why there’s no dinner ready.”

Hot tears sting your eyes and you gasp for air. Your father? If he’s having a hard day today, if his boss or his co-workers didn’t recognize him for that presentation he spent all those late nights at the dinner table preparing, you know how this will end. Your father is a fair man, but even he has his limits.

And sometimes that means that the things you love, the things that you covet, they go missing. Precious dolls that you’ve had over the years have disappeared when you were being careless with them, leaving them around in the hallway for him to step on. Once, you left your birthday gift from your aunt, a purple Skip-It, on the sidewalk during a Spring rain shower and when you went to bring it in, it had vanished.

You’d found it in the garbage bin, the ankle loop and cord snapped into pieces.

When your father gets home, he’ll go for your book. He knows just which one it is. You had started it last night and he asked you about it.

You push off the wall of the hallway, swallowing the bile down your throat. You have to hide it, to take it somewhere.

You want to leave. Your eyes dart around the room. Anywhere but here, you can’t let him see how much more embarrassing it is now that he knows you’re anxious. A lump in your throat continues to constrain the air. You can feel your pulse in it, pulling acid up from the depths of your stomach.

You rip another breath from your chest and try to propel yourself across the room, across the universe, but your feet won’t budge. Your muscles are locked in this bump of panic, leaden and unyielding.

Somewhere in the fuzziness, Seokjin has moved but already returned, and you feel a set of cool hands on your cheeks as he comes into focus, gently stroking behind your ears and saying something to you.

“–ow that it’s hard but I need you to breathe, Y/N. Breathe with me. Can you do that?”

His face is concerned, and it twists your stomach even further. He shouldn’t be doing this. You should remember how to fucking breathe on your own. But then again, isn’t that why he’s here anyway? Because you can’t do shit on your own? Can’t hold boundaries, can’t stay in school or keep it together. Can’t live somewhere nicer where you don’t smell the stomach-turning stench of the sink’s old plumbing next to you, metallic and stale. And definitely can’t even remember how to mind your business or breathe like a person.

You rush down the hall, into the living room, snapping the book off the couch. You shove it behind a cushion.

Your father walks in the door, and from the look on his face, you can tell the presentation didn’t go well.

“What’s all this?” he snaps, and gestures to the left-out vacuum and the bucket of water you’d gathered earlier. All the bubbles from the soap have long popped, leaving a heavy, sickening floral scent in the room from the solution.

“I, oh–”

“Your daughter spent all day reading instead of doing her chores. So unless you have a McDonald’s hamburger in your briefcase, we have nothing for dinner.” Your mother interjects, huffing as she heads into your parents bedroom and slams the door behind her.

Your father’s eyes narrow, and this is how it begins. He and your mother slamming, stomping, hitting, and crashing in every interaction they have with an inanimate object around you.

He chucks his suitcase onto the table of the small dining area, then whips open the fridge door a few feet away.

“Y/N, come here.”

You tiptoe in behind him, needing desperately to do the opposite of him, to show that you aren’t mad that they’re mad. That you understand exactly what you did wrong.

But it doesn’t matter, does it? They’re going to show you anyway. He moves aside and you peer into the fridge.

“What do you see in there?” he asks, restrained.

“Um, some celery, lettuce, dressing, milk…”

He growls, indicating that this isn’t the right answer. You’re wrong again. “Food, Y/N. This is food. That your mother and I work hard to put on the table so you can sit around and read your books. Food that needs to be eaten. Do you understand?”

You say nothing. You know the question is rhetorical.

“So, when we ask so little of you to simply take the food out of the freezer or fridge and thaw it, how can it be so hard? Hm? Here let me show you.”

He reaches in, and begins pulling and pulling the veggies, marinades, dressings, milk, eggs, cheeses and meats, and crowding the counter top. You’re frozen, unable to walk away, to ask him to stop.

When he’s done, he looks at you.

“See? Not so hard, huh? And if you were helpful to us, none of this would have happened. Honestly, your selfishness sometimes,” he says. “Now, go get me that book of yours. I think you know you haven’t earned it right now.”

You should go peel it out from under the couch cushions. Should hand it to him, then put all the groceries back away, because you know he’s not going to do it with you here. You should apologize. Accept punishment.

But instead, you’re nauseous and shaking and sobbing.

He waits expectedly. And then he shoves past you to your room, beginning to hunt through your clothes on the floor, under your bed.

“Where is it Y/N?”

You don’t follow him. Instead, you run. You grab the book from behind the cushion, shove your shoes onto your feet and run into the heat of the ending day with it in your hands, the heat from the sidewalk still boiling up underneath you.

Your parents don’t run out the door or into the street behind you. They stay in your home, possibly putting it back together. But you don’t care. You run, until you see the light of the convenience store and your lungs feel like they’re going to collapse.

Inside the cool air, Wonwoo is helping his father place drinks from their crates into the refrigerator. His eyes are wide as you plow in.

You have so much you want to tell him, so much worry in your chest. Your cheeks are hot and your body is sweaty. Nothing is coming out. Just the hum of the fridges, and Wonwoo’s father rushing to get his mother.

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo asks, and you can’t do anything to answer, just stare at his soft face as you well up with tears. You shove the book toward him wordlessly.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” he asks again, and you inhale steeply but choke on the air. A bubble of saliva clods your tongue.

“Please, take this. Hide it,” you urge. He holds his hands out and takes the book.

“Um, okay. Tuck Everlasting, I’ve never read this one.” He looks back up at you and winces.

“Hey, hey, breathe Y/N. You need to breathe.”

Seokjin is standing in front of you, coaxing breaths from you, wasting his time after cooking you dinner like it’s something you deserve. Like you’re not just doing all of this anyway because you can’t control yourself to not have feelings for him. Tears singe your eyes and you gasp another shallow breath.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. I’m not mad. I promise I’m not mad.” Seokjin breaks through your thoughts, his voice gentle, and almost like he hears you in this silent exchange, some constant that is numbing this spiral. You feel yourself inhale a little more fully as you understand he’s not upset or annoyed. “Good, you’re doing good. Let’s breathe another breath, okay?”

You can’t look away. Even if you wanted to, Seokjin’s touch is keeping you focused completely on him, his soft and kind eyes, his plush lips that he’s holding in a slight frown that won’t shake. One that you can tell is worry.

“Another breath, sweetheart. Good, good girl. That’s really good, Y/N. Okay, keep doing that for a second okay?” One hand releases from your cheek, and you find yourself pressing harder into the other, needing him to touch you and keep guiding you back, needing that security of him.

He doesn’t move it away, in fact he pushes himself closer, holds the weight of you in his palm tenderly, and then you see in your periphery what he moved to get: a glass of water.

“I want you to take three small sips of this for me, okay? Slowly.” He holds the rim of the cup up to your lips, tilting it slightly. You open your mouth slightly, letting a trickle of cold water flood into the hot cavern of your mouth, extinguishing so much of the tight, fiery panic that moves through the rest of your body.

You do as he says, sipping and swallowing slowly until he pulls the glass away and sets it down behind you.

“You with me?” he whispers, and you breathe.

“Yes,” you say.

“Can I touch your arm?”

You’re not sure why he’s asking, so you knit your brow and gaze up at him, confused.

“What?”

“Can I touch your arm? I want to move us out of the kitchen and into your bedroom if that’s okay?” His voice is still quiet, and you realize that the hum of the light is so loud it’s almost drowning him out, almost drowning you again.

Your eyes flash wide and you nod. You see him relax a little, and slowly Seokjin untangles the web of your bodies away from the kitchen, into the cool air of your living room. Why is it so cold?

Seokjin guides you through it, and through the doorway to your bedroom. Before you even realize it, he’s unbuttoning his pink shirt and draping it over you.

“Is this okay? You’re shaking.”

You go to tell him yes, of course it’s okay, and then notice your teeth are gritted tight from trying not to chatter.

You take another breath. “Yes,” you squeak.

He pulls down the duvet and gestures for you to sit. “I’m going to put this blanket on you so I can help you warm up.” You feel the soft, heavy weight and start to feel a little better. But without Seokjin holding you, tethering you back into your body, you feel like you might float away any second. You shoot him a panicked look and he seems to understand, drawing the blanket back so he is also swaddled in it, the two of you knee to knee as he pinches the blanket closed with his fist.

“You can touch me if you’d like,” he says, and this, you realize, is what you need.

You immediately shift forward, putting your face into his white t-shirt, inhaling that minty, fresh cologne he wears. You can feel his chest rising and falling slowly, evenly, and you match your breathing to his, hoping soon your heartbeat slows to the same rate. Your hands twist into his shirt but it’s not enough. You find one of his hands and take it, lacing your fingers together and resting them in your lap.

The heaviness is nice, stabilizing, but you know you still need something more.

“Seokjin?” Your voice sounds foreign to you.

“Yeah?”

“Will you hold me for a minute?”

His hand untangles from yours and he moves to place it around your back, but with you two cross legged and facing each other, it’s an awkward embrace.

“I’m sorry, this is such a weird position. If you’re okay with it, you can sit in my lap? If you want? And then I can just hold you for a second?”

You nod and sit up, unfolding your legs and wiggling yourself up so you are on his lap. You wrap your legs around his back, then your arms. And then you feel his arms around you, his fingers lazily tracing the length of your spine.

You feel yourself sinking deeper back into the safety of your body.

You both sit like this for a long time. So long that you feel yourself starting to grow hazy and sleepy. Seokjin is warm and soft and so soothing. You feel like you’re untangling from a sharp web that has been trapping you for a long time. And when your alarm for your stream goes off, you turn off your phone.

“You okay?” Seokjin asks and you huff out a sigh.

“Yeah, I’m sorry for all the dramatics.” You slide yourself out of his grip and flop back onto your bed, propping yourself up on your elbow.

“What do you mean? You weren’t being dramatic, Y/N, you had a panic attack.”

“Yeah, over asking you a highly personal question I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry for that too.”

“I’m not-it’s-look. Panic attacks aren’t ever just one thing. It’s always a compounding of stress and anxiety and other thoughts and feelings. You just came across the one thought or feeling that forced everything to collapse. And I can guess based on how much you’re apologizing, it was probably you doing that shit inside and beating yourself up that knocked all the rest of this stuff down. I told you, I’m not mad. Or insulted that you asked.”

He goes on. “Which, by the way, I’m not bi or gay. I’m very straight. But that’s not the point. The point is, you have nothing to be ashamed of. You asked me a question. I have a right to choose to answer it or not. So there’s your answer. And also, you are never dramatic to me. Panic attacks are fucking scary; you felt like you were dying, right?”

You nod. “Drowning, yeah.”

He gives you a sympathetic smile. “Yeah, those things are no joke. But you came out on the other side of it.”

“Not without your help though. You seem like you know a lot about these when they happen. Do you get them too?”

He flushes. “Uh, no, I don’t personally. My friend Yoongi has them sometimes. He taught me a lot about how to help him with them. The cold water trick really is from him. And then also when Soon Yi and I were together, she would have them, but those were a bit different.” He looks down at his hands.

Soon Yi. So that’s her. The person Seokjin has often stopped himself talking about. The one who his parents would occasionally refer to as “that woman” during shifts when he wasn’t around. No one ever said her name, almost like she was some kind of curse and you always were curious why. You assumed she must be the devil incarnate the way his mother would sling a bunch of insults after she was mentioned, but the way Seokjin now says her name so casually, so personally, you aren’t entirely sure if he sees her that way.

Parents usually carry a greater grudge than their child who was hurt. Your own father has told you on various occasions that the guy you dated for one summer in undergrad, who coincidentally is his barber’s nephew, will never be allowed in his house ever again. Forget the fact that there’s no reason he would be invited over in the first place. Whenever you’re catching up with your parents on the phone, if he has recently visited his barber, he’s sure to bring it up. “Scum is never allowed in my house! He will just drag his filth in with him!”

Thinking of your father and mother right now forces you to wince. Maybe it’s the freshness of these memories, of you realizing now that what happened to you that day as a child wasn’t you being dramatic, as they had insisted even after you’d gotten home. Everything had been put back into place when you’d returned after the sunset, even the bucket and vacuums put away. Your parents never apologized or talked about it again.

And your friend, she didn’t talk to you after that either, claiming you were flaky and rude for blowing her off.

Your father doesn’t even refer to your ex by name, similar to Seokjin’s mother. “That Woman”. “Scum”. If there was ever a name tied to these people, it’s clearly gone in the haze of whatever angry frenzy your parents carry. “Scum” also didn’t even do anything wrong. You broke things off with him, but because you came home crying after the breakup, now that is his legacy.

But Seokjin’s mother, how she behaves, you’re not sure that it’s for the same reasons. You’ve seen firsthand how much she adores her children, and “adoration” is a word you aren’t so sure applies to your family.

Soon Yi, too, it’s clear she was not just a blip on the screen in Seokjin’s life. The hushed, angry chatter between his parents, the way his mother would often get so worked up she would start punching her shoulder and clicking her tongue, saying she needed to go sit down. That’s not a Scum-level relationship. You wonder how close she was to Seokjin. Closer than you two are becoming, clearly.

“Soon Yi,” you repeat to yourself, still lost in the haze of putting things together.

“Um, my ex.” Seokjin says, and you feel heat rise in your cheeks as you realize he heard you. “We were engaged. For a while.”

“Oh.”

You want to ask how long he means by a while? Did they break up right before you joined the restaurant? Or was this from many years ago? It’s odd in a way to think of how Seokjin has lived a completely different life from the time before you knew him. He loved someone, enough to marry them, to start a life together, to know she had panic attacks and how to help her.

Did he place her in his lap the same way he did with you? Did he sit with her in the dull winter light of their bedroom and talk like this?

He had to have. Why wouldn’t he? Your stomach dips. Were you under some impression that this thing you’re experiencing–the closeness of his body, the soft thrum of his heart, that tiny whistle in his throat that breaks through the room as he speaks–would be special?

The dim light of the lamp on your bedside table makes the deep browns of his eyes look even darker, and he watches you as you stretch your legs out in front of you, your foot shifting a bit to rest up against his thigh. His eyes flicker toward it and then back to you.

“How, when did you guys break up? I didn’t know you were engaged,” you ask gently. He sighs, and then slumps a bit, the careful, rigid posture he was holding for so long finally loosening a bit with his exhale. He bends his knees and pulls his legs up, glancing to the other side of your bed.

You pat the spot next to you, turning over so he knows it’s no imposition.

And it’s not, not in the slightest. If you weren’t so fried and exhausted after that panic attack, your brain might try to imbue some innuendo into this moment, but for now, this is all you can do, and you want that ache in your stomach to go away. You want to feel like this is special.

Seokjin flops down into the pile of oddball plushies and pillows next to you and you snort, smiling as he carefully tucks the plushie he smashed in his landing into his arms.

“I’m sure my parents have talked about her enough times for you to know everything,” he scoffs.

“Not really. I didn’t know her name. I just thought she was some girlfriend you had that she hated because she was keeping you away from her. You know, the same way your mother also says that the really old lady down the road who sells flowers keeps your dad away from her.”

He smirks at this, and his fingers rove over the marble eyes of the plushie.

“My mother would blame the sun if it kept her family away from her. She’s been messaging the group chat nonstop for updates from my hyung’s wife about the pregnancy. And she’s supposed to be somewhere in Iceland right now on a cruise. Honestly I wish she would just enjoy herself.”

“Well, she cares. About you especially. Which is maybe why she didn’t air all of your business to me when I was mopping the floors and she counted down the drawers. She just would say that I would be better than “That Woman” but I think she might think anyone would be better than her.”

“She said that to you? Ugh, eomma.”

She did, one late night, when Seokjin left early for “something urgent”. His mother alleged that he was dating a secret new girlfriend that he kept under wraps.

“Honestly, he acts as if I’m going to eat her alive or something. Tsk. That son of mine, both he and his brother are going to send me to an early grave. Behind my back like this when I’m getting older by the minute. Ever since he and that woman broke up, he shut down. I tried to set him up with someone and he kept saying no! That he would find someone. But if she was any better than the others, wouldn’t he have brought her around by now,” she’d said.

She slammed some coins back into the register. You jumped at the sound.

She sighed. “You know what he needs? Someone like you. Someone with vision! That woman never had any of that. So much more focused on status. You’re not like that Y/N. I can tell. And that’s exactly why I hired you. You can’t teach someone that as an adult. They either have it or don’t, and you. You’ve got exactly it.”

You didn’t really know what “it” was, but you didn’t argue, and soon she moved on to complain about something else.

Now, knowing Seokjin’s secret, you think you know where he went that night, and it definitely wasn’t to go hide in his lover’s house. Chances were, he was streaming. And that also would explain why he shut down on her so quickly. You can’t imagine Mrs. Kim’s reaction if she found out Seokjin was a gay cam streamer. Despite being straight.

It dawns on you. You’d been so distracted with that panic attack that you forgot already that Seokjin is in fact interested in women. Solely. Enough to have been engaged to one.

“But, back to your story,” you prod, trying to distract yourself from the fact that now none of this feels like just friends sharing. Seokjin hisses in some air as if he agrees.

“Right. Well, Soon Yi and I were together really in college and on. We started dating really young. Just two kids. And then we just kind of stuck together? She and I were together for a long time before I got the nerve to propose. And then…” He trails off, his face now a deeper blush. Is he embarrassed?

You lick your lips, ready to tell him he doesn’t have to share, but he waves his hand to quiet you.

“She cheated on me. With my boss. We were in the midst of planning the wedding and everything. I was supposed to get this big promotion at the end of some large conferences. But, I don’t know. We had grown apart. Suddenly we didn’t see eye-to-eye on anything.”

Your jaw drops, caught on that larger detail. “She cheated on you with your boss? After all that time? God, Seokjin, I'm so sorry. That’s awful.”

He smiles and nods. “That’s not even the worst part,” he says. His smile grows bigger, like this is some huge joke. “She cheated on me multiple times with him while I was away. And I caught them. Uh, you know. On my dining room table when I came back early to surprise her. I did not get the promotion by the way. But, she actually has a baby, or I guess a toddler, with him now. I heard she’s pregnant again, they’re married. It’s all some surreal life. And now I’m here.”

“Um, you’re right, it was worse than that.” You’re really not sure what to say. Seokjin’s becoming harder to read by the second, turning this conversation into some big joke when it’s not really funny to you on your end. Maybe he’s processed it enough by now, but based on how tightly he’s now squeezing your alpaca plushie, you would wager that he doesn’t really find it funny either.

“Is this,” you take a breath. “Is this why the other night you said you were a failure? Because of what happened with Soon Yi?”

“Partly. I mean, it’s not like I did too great of a job keeping her satisfied. She clearly found other ways to do that.” He laughs darkly.

“That’s not how that works you know,” you say. His eyebrows lift.

“What do you mean?”

“What you just said. Keeping her satisfied. Isn’t it the job of being a human to keep ourselves satisfied? Find things with meaning and joy? It’s not your fault that she chose to do that. To cheat on you, to not be honest when she started feeling differently. She could have told you at any point. Did she?”

He sighs. “Not really, no. Soon Yi wasn’t great at communicating with me about things like that. For so long, we just knew what the other person needed. Because we’d been together since we were so young, we had come up with some other kind of language. And my friends, too, they were in on it. She was not always going to tell someone how she felt but she would show them. For Jungkook’s 21st birthday she threw him an “American Stereotype” themed birthday which he was always obsessing over from the videos. Bought a bunch of red solo cups, they played that Miley Cyrus song and bought a bunch of discounted Fourth of July partyware. She was one of us.”

Even now, despite everything, Seokjin is speaking so kindly about someone who hurt him. And honestly, it throws you. You are so used to the men you’ve been around talking so poorly of their exes that you didn’t know someone could experience such a negative thing and not immediately resort to extreme name calling.

That’s just how good Seokjin is. Enough to not be mad at you for asking questions, for panicking. Enough to speak kindly about others even if it might be eating at him.

“That doesn’t mean it was your fault though,” you stifle a yawn. He cocks an eyebrow.

“Maybe we should shelve this conversation for another time,” he says.

“No, no, I want to hear. I want to know all of it.”

“You were supposed to start your scheduled stream an hour ago.”

“Change of plans. I’m not streaming tonight.”

“Do your subs know that?”

“Don’t call them that. They’re subscribers not subs. Sub is something you do.”

Jesus. Please don’t let him cling to that. Please don’t let that give away that I know.

“Pfft. Okay, do your subscribers know you’re not streaming anymore?”

You roll your eyes, knowing he’s created this distance on purpose and now the moment has passed.

Fine, you’ll get more from him about this eventually. You need to understand how Soon Yi impacted him. You don’t really know why, but you can’t help but feel like knowing more might make you feel less uneasy about all of this. About you and Seokjin and what this could all maybe mean someday.

“I can post about it,” you say softly and he nods.

“That might be a good idea. You’ve had a big day. A big panic attack, you probably need some sleep.”

Your stomach sinks at the idea that he might leave after this, and you’re still not sure you want to be alone. You chew your lip.“What I really need is some pizza,” you say.

Seokjin smirks. “Good thing for you, I know exactly where we can find some.”

“Thank you again for the pizza,” you said, nibbling on the edge of one crust. “I didn’t think I could be that hungry after eating so much earlier.”

Seokjin took another swig of beer, shrugging. “Well, you’ve had a big day, and you burned energy and probably calories earlier.”

Your panic attack may have seemed to you like it was coming out of nowhere, but to Seokjin, it wasn’t. He had noticed your embarrassment the second after you asked him that question, saw you spiral inside yourself as you tried to huff air. He wasn’t sure what really triggered it, but he also knew he didn’t want to leave you after that.

He wasn’t unfamiliar to them. Yes, Yoongi had his share, and it took a little while to learn what ways he could be soothed. Soon Yi’s were different, though. A lot more similar to yours.

When they had started experimenting sexually, there would be times in which she would fall so quickly into panic, like she couldn’t give up control. And from that point on, sometimes she would spiral deeper, into some pit of shame where whatever they were doing, even if it wasn’t super kinky, led to these shaking, sub-drop-like breakdowns. They were more rare, but they did happen, especially earlier in their relationship.

At the time, Seokjin didn’t understand what was going on, and neither did Soon Yi. Just that she sometimes would flip on him during foreplay when he would get a little more confident and dominant, or if he started falling into a scene that she had asked them to do, using the script the way she asked, it would happen anyway. Almost like she was fighting between what she wanted and who she expected herself to be.

And that’s in a way how you seemed to be too. Maybe you weren’t like this sexually, and he would unpack that idea later. But in this intimate space of your home, it was like Seokjin was experiencing some type of whiplash as you went from being so uncomfortable about asking about his sexuality to you lying next to him in your bed talking about his ex.

He wasn’t mad, not in the slightest. He understood that especially after a panic attack, people were desperate for closeness and intimacy, and whatever reaction he had to your panic, you felt soothed and safe with him. He was being let into your world little by little, even if you were fighting yourself to let it happen.

He wanted that. He wanted this: you two eating cold pizza on the floor of your living room, you chewing happily and Seokjin warm and full of life watching you do it.

You even let him make adjustments to your space, laughing and applauding him after he ripped some of the clean cardboard from one of the pizza boxes and made shims to prop up and balance your oven and fridge. He found if he scooted the couch slightly to the left and your entertainment system got turned a few inches, you could completely see the TV from anywhere on the couch. You dove to the other side almost immediately, whooping when you realized you wouldn’t have to strain yourself to see anymore.

You were comfortable. He made you comfortable.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” you said, your hand caressing over the soft roll of your stomach to demonstrate how full you were. Then, a deep burp echoed into the room. Your eyes widened. “Oh, wow, sorry. Excuse me,” you said suppressing a chuckle.

But Seokjin was already laughing, his body shaking at the sound. “So polite for someone who made that noise.”

The tenseness in your shoulders fell and you gave in, laughing next to him. “Listen! It was good, and the carbonation of the beer is making me have to burp!”

“Sure, sure. That’s what it is. You know I’ve seen those memes about how women don’t fart or burp or poop and I’m onto you! You have one strike. If you fart or shit I’m going to prove that meme false.”

You scoff, tears leaking out the side of your eyes. “Well good thing for you, I will not deny those allegations. I don’t just poop, I shit.”

Seokjin choked on his next sip of beer, spluttering some of it out of his nose. “Oh shit.” Tears flowed from his eyes from the sting, and he grasped for some napkins near the pizza.

You weren’t much better off, coughing heavily into your shirt as you tried to recover. This, this was everything he could ever want. Afterward, you both cleaned up the kitchen and pizza together, finishing off the six-pack of beer until your yawns were impossible to ignore.

“It’s really late, Y/N. You should go to sleep,” he said. He hated himself for suggesting it, almost wishing that you would extend the invitation to stay. Even then, though, he would have to decline.

“Or we could, I don’t know, play a game or something?” As you said this, you stifled another yawn.

He chuckled. You were stalling, he could tell. And he wasn’t strong enough to say no. “Hm, okay how about this. We can hang out in your room and I’ll tell you more about me. But you have to get ready for bed first, otherwise it’s no deal.”

Your eyelids were heavy, but you beamed anyway. “Yeah, okay.”

You went into your room, grabbing some clothes before shutting yourself into the bathroom to get ready. Seokjin paced your living room, scanning the book shelves, a variety of titles he’d never seen before in the stacks. But there was one, a smaller and thinner book that had more wear and tear than the rest. He slid it out carefully and held it in his hands. Tuck Everlasting, a book he’d read in elementary school about a teenager who met a family that drank from a tree’s magical spring and lived forever.

Based on your copy, he could tell it was well-loved and read many times. How old were you when you read it, he wondered. Did you want to run away into the woods like he did afterward, trying to find a magical spring of your own?

The bathroom door opened, and he carefully slotted the book back onto the shelf before turning to you. You were wearing an oversized T-shirt and some very, very short pajama shorts. Your legs looked so soft to touch. His hand twitched.

“Okay,” you said, “I’m ready.”

Seokjin wasn’t. But he followed you into the darkness of your room anyway, laid himself down next to you on the bed as you tucked yourself under the blankets. Your eyes shimmered as you looked at him, now way more awake than you had appeared just ten minutes ago.

Were you hustling him?

“You need to crawl under the blankets too. Otherwise they’ll constrict me and I will absolutely not fall asleep like you have clearly planned,” you tease.

You were hustling him. He liked it.

He chuckled and obeyed, folding back the comforter and sheets to get in. But in doing so, he revealed you with your shorts already bunched up on your thighs, exposing your lacy panties at your hip. Your shirt was riding up, and he could see a tiny bit of your stomach peeking out.

God fucking help him. He managed a deep breath, begging himself not to get hard, or for his body to at least wait until you wouldn’t see him getting hard and he was under the covers. This wasn’t the time. Not after all the emotionality of the day. But his dick didn’t know that.

Your covers smelled like you, soft and even a little sweet and you really had to be fucking with him because you shoved yourself even closer to him under the covers, so that there were just a few inches between you two. He felt your body heat radiating from you.

“There,” you sighed, and he smelled a hint of your mint toothpaste. His mouth watered. “Now, where were we?”

No, but where were you really? He didn’t remember, didn’t know where to start. And then it clicked.

“Mmm, you were going to go to sleep I think,” he said.

You frowned, your nose wrinkling. “No, that’s not true. Or it was. I’m not tired now.”

“Give it a minute, I’m sure soon your eyelids won’t be able to stay open.”

“Sure, but yours are heavy now too. So you must be tired. Now it’s a competition.” You were right. His eyelids were heavy, and he was tired. But he knew his body, especially as keyed up as he was getting, wasn’t about to let him fall asleep any time soon.

“I think I’ll win that one,” he laughed lightly.

“Doubt it,” you challenged, and you shifted your legs, now a little less comfy and more antsy. You slowly released a breath.

“Are you sure you want to do this right now?” He asked, and you didn’t hesitate to nod.

“I want to know more about you. It’s nice to put the puzzle pieces of you together in my head.” Your voice was growing husky.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay,” you replied. A beat passed. Neither of you moved to say anything, just looked at each other.

Shouldn’t this be awkward? Shouldn’t all of this feel wrong? Somewhere in his mind, the logical response was yes, this is weird and he should leave. But then he would be leaving you after a hard day, when you clearly were trying to avoid him leaving by going so far as to keep yourself awake to stare at him. To try to get to know him. And that’s what rooted him now. He couldn’t leave even if he wanted to. Maybe you were only being needy. But he also felt needy right now. And for the moment, logic could fuck off.

So he pushed it away, letting the parts of him he liked most bubble to the surface, the parts that led without overthinking and just acted on what he wanted.

He moved slightly closer to you, and you blanched, a little taken aback, but you recovered quickly. “

I’m cold,” you said. He knew it was a lie. He could feel the heat of you.

“Here,” he replied, and he pulled the blanket open slightly so you could wiggle forward, resting yourself against his chest.

He angled himself carefully, trying so hard to avoid the rest of your bodies touching, but it was impossible, so he pulled you closer, letting every part of you rest against him.

“Tell me,” you muttered.

“What should I tell you?” he whispered back.

“I don’t know. Anything.” You were fading quickly, and he was relieved. Sad that he would have to go soon, but relieved that you were finally resting.

“Okay,” he said, even softer. “I think if I ever drank from a magical spring, I would do a better job hiding it than the Tuck family did.”

You hummed in response, and then he felt your head nod into his chest as you fell fully asleep.

#bts smut #seokjin smut #seokjin #seokjin x reader #bts fanfic #kim seokjin #thanks for the sub

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cleabellanov · 22 days

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Jet-Skiing through Identity: a deep dive into Mobius M. Mobius (part 6) 🚤

So, through the realms of my (personal) analysis, we've come a long way to Mobius's character. From the comedic relief to the deep natural need to care from others, from fear of abandonment to suppresed emotions. But guess what? There's more. There's always more when you really get into it.

I see episode 3 of season 2, "1893" as sort of a calm before the storm : a really sweet time before the rest of the chaos really emerged.

I love how the clothes they are wearing are probably conjured by Loki for them to fit in the time period. This is more of a headcanon, but beside all that chaos, Mobius probably loved it as well.

Here is another gem from this character: although he possesses an effortless charm most of the time, that doesn't equal the actual confidence. Like he's trying to hide the lacks in self esteem with an abundance of showing off. But around his closest confidante, he naturally gets that out, not needing to overthink it anymore: with both confidence and charm. I'm talking about that line:

"I see everything, I notice everything"

which is right before the famous "You've got some Cracker Jack on your chin, what about that?". They really were on a silly little date.

We also get to catch precious moments of Mobius's pure curiosity and opening to the new. I imagine that he also lost some experiences he had with the memory wipe at the TVA, so everyday can be a new gift now that he really gets to do something *else*. That's noticeable when Victor Timely's presentation of The Loom begins, doing an amazing contrast with Loki's more careful behavior.

Not to talk about persuasive: the tandem bike? A classic. I'm not saying Loki wasn't a little compromised by the circumstances, but Mobius made himself pretty clear too!!

And at the end of the episode, I love how he stays behind to look at Ravonna for a little while after Loki exits through the time door. It's not that he doesn't miss his old friend, but he knows better than to try and meddle in her business right now.

In episode 4, "The Heart of the TVA", Mobius's natural kindness is once again an important piece of the game. Him and Loki too try to be gentle with Timely, as they see he is scared and understand he's just a variant, different than He Who Remains.

When they finally get Timely to work to their plan and save the Loom, there it is again: that waiting in uncertainty, the fear of things going south really, really fast. So he does what he's used to: try and have some pie.

Sylvie is obviously disturbed by this, as from her perspective, they should be even more agitated, just like everything else around them. And here's just a part from what she said to Mobius:

"Timelines are just lines on a monitor. Doesn't matter if a few disappear. Because you've never bothered to look if one of them is yours"

This time, Mobius doesn't snap like he did with Brad. Because it isn't coming from one of his coworkers, it's from Sylvie, whom he helped in the past. And in the way she says it, he's more prone to believe her. So he doesn't reciprocate her speech with anger. Why? Because he doesn't deny it; feeling guilty about something automatically implies admitting the other is right. And he doesn't have the strength to fight it anymore. Loki does it for him afterwards in the pie room - as he deserves.

At least he got a hot-cocoa to warm him right back up :))

#see you for the next and final part mobius/loki/lokius legion #anyways if you enjoyed you can reblog so it can reach more people #mobius #loki #kang #sylvie laufeydottir #lokius #character analysis #tumblr writers #essays about my fav characters always end up longer than assignements for school #marvel #mcu #fandom #tom hiddleston #owen wilson #loki series #💛💚

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knightyoomyoui · 1 year

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NaMoChaeng (Nayeon, Momo, & Chaeyoung) x M Reader- “Hello”

Happy 22K reads! Another new type of one-shot has made its debut in Set 4! Unlike all the previous TWICE member x Reader works including my OT9 TWICE x Reader series, this one will be different because it features multiple members but in units or duos/ships still alongside with you as the reader.

Btw, hope you all enjoy however I think this is just the same ugly story again made by your boy, Knight lels.

---------- START ----------

"Let me repeat your orders again ma'am, for double-check," you said, looking at the notepad in your palm, your other hand holding the ballpen you just used to write down all of the customer's orders. "Two chimaek and a large bowl of jjangmyeon. All good, maam?"

"Yes," said the lady customer, who was seated with three other individuals at the table.

"Okay, just wait patiently for your orders to be served later, maam," you bowed respectfully as they said "thank you" for your service.

You went over the counter and passed the note to your coworker, the restaurant's cashier, to inform her of the newly taken order.

"Order from Table 36 there," you said, pointing to the table you had just approached.

"Here, take this next to-" your coworker was about to finish what she was about to say when she froze in her place and stared into the distance with the rest.

You were perplexed as to what had happened to her while you waited for the cashier to finish her remaining words.

"Uhh hey, you still there?" you clicked your fingers in an attempt to reawaken her senses, but it was unnecessary when she responded immediately after you spoke again.

"Where will I bring-"

"SSSHHHH!!!," she warned, gesturing you to be silent which effectively closing your lips with a mix of confusion and intimidation.

"Why, what-"

You turned around to see why she was still staring at the glass door behind him. As you did so, you realized what had made your coworker, as well as everyone else in the restaurant, silent and halt at their movements.

There are 3 women who just entered the restaurant from being assisted by the guards through opening the door for them quickly.

Based from what you can see, they are all looking very fabulous and eye-catching, even their outfits matches them all with the same color, style and design of clothing.

Every step they make felt like they are moving slower and slower the more they approach closer towards you as they make their way inside.

And when they did, you noticed that this woman with long black hair added with blonde highlights smirked as she got a glance of you before looking away and searched for seats for theirselves as the other 2 women follows her from behind and also looked briefly at you too.

"C-Chaewon?", you called the name of your closest fellow waiter who just appeared beside you in the edge of the counter.

Your eyes are still watching the back of these three ladies who snatched the "RESERVED" sign at the top of the table and thrown it away on the floor. They all began to sit as they pulled their own respective chairs.

"What?"

"Who are they?", your eyes remained focused on the girls who are now located their own spot. The janitor just picked the RESERVED sign on the floor and returned it back to our manager.

You didn't quite understand how weren't they affected much by it that they just stole someone's other bought position in the restaurant yet everyone around here seems to be unbothered for what they did.

Chaewon looked at you as she clunched her forehead and look at you with a little shock. "Wait, you don't know th-", her mouth then formed an "o" in realization as she remembered something right away. "Oh, I forgot you're just new to this place right?"

You simply nodded and apologetically gritted your teeth as you took it like its your fault. "Sorry."

"It's fine.", Chaewon assured, pushing her knuckled playfully right at your right shoulder.

You just moved to another city from Gangnam to Seocho still being part of Seoul, the capital of South Korea because the life you're living in there keeps on getting worse as you became desperate to successfully find a job that will help yourself survive everyday with your own daily needs after being financially troubled.

The rent owner of your previous apartment had you got kicked out of her place, thus leading you to sleep on the streets until you decided to try moving to another city for starting a new, much better life that will save you asay from worries and stress regarding financial issues.

Sometimes it got you thinking, wouldn't you end up in this current scenario if your parents didn't die on that fire accident occured in the public market they once had their fish selling business there?

After many attempts and maintaining yourself to stay positive and never give up on searching for a job position, you finally got employed as a waiter in a fast food chain.

Your performance so far during all these months since you got hired was pretty average, the same with the salary you're getting but enough to make you satisfy because you aren't the type of person who complains and gets ungrateful with what he receives.

"Well, those three ladies are the mayor's daughters, and they're also the richest people in our community," Chaewon said, explaining how well-known these people are among Seocho residents and what distinguishes them from the others.

"Everyone pays respect for them because of everything they've done here, and for sure we don't want to mess with them.", she continued as both of you are now secretly looking sideways at the three girls who are now having their orders taken by one of their fellow waiters.

Chaewon narrowed her space between you and her and leaned her head aside closer to you as she covered her face while whispering to you. "I heard a rumor that a guy went missing for half a year now because he threw a stone at the mayor's car.",

You looked at her, dumbfounded written all over your face. "Oh... wow... really?", she nodded in confirmation. "Well, that's terrifying.", you shook your body from the goosebumps.

"I just noticed, they never visited here before unlike today so it kinda shocks me a bit that they chose to eat here since they're you know, expensive.", she Chaewon shrugged her shoulders.

"I mean, maybe they wanted to try it out here?", you guessed.

"You may be right.", she took your point well. She moves away her back from being pressed at the cold marble counter and grabbed her freshly cooked order in a tray brought by the staff. "Oh, well we should just continue and do our work well to avoid getting scolded by them now. Just act normally, okay?", she patted your shoulder and you nodded in response.

You resumed on serving other customers, going through their tablrs and courteously greeting them before receiving their preferred orders.

Little did you know that while you're busy on your duty, the three ladies kept on watching your moves everywhere as you do your own thing around the restaurant.

----------

"God I'm so hungry. There's mac and cheese at the fridge though but... I never tasted real food for weeks now.", you mumbled to yourself, caressing your stomach when exactly at the same time it growled in hunger while walking at the sidewalk.

You are on your way back to your rented home after your shift ended, resturant closed and seperating ways with Chaewon.

You unexpectedly bumped into several gangsters who had just gone out after loitering around their spot as you were going to pass through an alley in the neighborhood, which caught their attention.

"Yo, asshole, watch where you're going!" he said after catching his deliquent friend who got pushed away from colliding with your body.

"I- I'm sorry I didn't notice you guys come out," you hastily apologized after sensing their annoyance at your presence.

You realized this wasn't going to end well, so you jumped at the chance to get out of this risky situation. "Please excuse me, but I have to g-go home."

You could only take one step before the gangster blocked your path, preventing you from completing your walk. You came to a halt once more as you noticed the other three thugs begin to circle you and had you all encircled.

"Woah woah hold on there, we aren't done yet," the gangster who appears to be the leader of their group said as he grabbed your sleeve and squeezed it along with your shoulder, fingers buried down to your skin that's enough to leave some bruises.

You stayed still, but your body shivered with terror. "Stay precisely where you are, just for a minute, okay?"

"Look at him, don't wet your pants boy," gang #1 said as he catched your scared face and trembling body from their intimidating and merciless agenda they're putting up against you.

"Please... I don't mean no trouble," you began to beg as you still stood up with your own argument that you didn't meant to raise a commotion with them.

"Yeah, I know you do... as long as you give us all the money you're keeping there in your pretty wallet," gang #2 said, looking at the bulging pocket of your pants in the form of your wallet inside.

"B-but... it's all I have left, and I need this-"

"Well, we need it more now! You will give it, or... we will take it from you in a hard way and make you regret dealing with us." He then grabbed your collar and crumpled it, pulling your body forward towards him and speaking very closely to your face, the smell of alcohol and cigarette is present at this guy.

"No, please let me go, this is all I have left," you said.

"Too stubborn, aren't we?"

"Goddamnit, you know what? Let's kick his ass," gang #1 grumbled irritatingly. it didn't take long for them to interpret it as a demand w hen gang #3 kneed your midsection, bending your body in agony from the impact,

They started attacking you, violently kicking and punching all over your body until they were interrupted by a loud car horn.

They stared eagerly to see where the light originated from because it was so bright and it was getting noisier too.

A roofless pink Lamborghini with three hot women seated in a sassy style along to the hip-hop music they're playing aloud in the background was slowly coming through the white smoke streaming around, being exposed with the postlights of a very silent street.

They ran outside and stood in front of the automobile, confronting the three thugs to avoid them from nearly killing you.

"Hello," says the well-built lady standing in the center.

"Well... well... well... look what we have here," thug #1 said, extending his arms in awe. "If it isn't us being so lucky tonight. What are you three fine looking girls doing here and slacking off in the middle of the night?"

"We run up this city ya'll, that's why," she said confidently. This is the same girl who smirked at you previously since she has long hair with blonde highlights.

"So let him go, we'll take care of him ourselves," her sibling with brown long wavy hair standing on her right spoke next.

"I know who you are, Miss Hot Stuff, but you must stop meddling with our business here; not everything is about you three," gangster #2 said, chuckling with his friends as he pointed to his back, where your weakened body laying down on the road. "We've got this just fine."

"Really? Then show us."

"Excuse me?" he said, his brow furrowed in complexion.

"From what we saw a few minutes ago, your hits appear to be far less painful than what we can give," remarked the woman with long wavy black hair standing on the left side with her sisters, the smallest of the three.

"Oh, you want to put us to the test?" ooohed gangster #3 with interest. "I'm sorry, sweetheart; as much as I want to avoid ruining your lovely faces and... hell... even to enjoy your delici-"

The brown haired lady launched a side kick right to his midsection, causing his body to shift backwards, preventing gang #1 from finishing what he was about to say while looking at her with lustful eyes.

"Keep your dirty words away from us.", she hissed at them as a warning.

"So, anyone want to try?" said the woman with black and blonde highlights on her hair, issuing an open challenge to these gangsters.

They all agreed as they tried to assault them. The small woman rolled back and snatched their baton inside the car while her two sisters easily fought off the three gangsters with their impressive fighting skills until she butted in and began whacking one of the gangsters' hand with her baton as he was about to shoot her blonde haired sister with a gun.

"Run while you can, but you'll never escape us," the blonde streak lady yelled into the distance, as the three progressively faded out of sight as they ran longer.

"They'll still be destroyed," the brown haired woman replied solemnly while pounding and clutching the baton with her hand and palm.

"You got a trace of their faces, right unnie?" the smallest of their group asked.

"Of course, little cub. No need to ask that question," she replied smugly, earning only an eyeroll and a playful pretend of being super done over her sister's prideful attitude for her photographic memory gift from the gods.

The two then walked to approach their sister and the girl you first encountered kneeling in front of your unconscious body. They saw some bruises and a bit of blood splattered in your face and staining your uniform.

"Girls, he's down.", she said to her two siblings and they all exchanged similar nod of head as a part of the signal on what should they do next for you.

(THE NEXT DAY, MORNING)

You woke up in an unfamiliar room as you heard an alarmed loudly rang to do its purpose.

Slowly rubbling your eyes and releasing a last heavy yawn, you looked around and noticed that some of the parts of your body like the face, arms, midsection and legs were covered in bandage and gauze. You were checking all the things inside and just as when you returned back at the medium-sized comfy bed, a maid appeared on the door.

"Good morning, it seems you're now awake, sir.", the middle-aged looking maid greeted you with her hands clasped at each other.

"Uhh good morning. Where am I?", you asked while stretching your body.

"Come downstairs, seek the answer by yourself. They want to see you anyways, sir.", the maid only answered like that and left the front of the room you are in.

"Who's we?", you muttered to himself. You went out of the bedroom and followed what the maid says.

As you reached the ground floor, what surrounds you took you out in awe. The place definitely looks like a magnificent and shimmering interior of a huge mansion.

"This way, sir.", he followed the maid from behind asthey walked througg outside of what it seems like a wide garden with a fountain can be seen in the middle and some mini maze along with bunch of flowers arranged perfectly.

He roamed his gaze around until he saw something that got him very nervous and shy to respond.

"Oh my god... why are they here- W-wait, am I in their... oh no.", you panickedly asked yourself inside your mind.

"You can now go-"

"S-sorry lady, but where is the entrance door here?" you said hesitantly, turning your body over. The maid merely looked at you befuddled, as to why you appear so afraid of her bosses, "I c-can't-..."

"Just don't, YN. We know what you're trying to do." said a feminine voice next to you. You sighed and closed your eyes, preparing to meet them again, but this time... You'll have to do it alone.

You slowly rotated your body around and walked towards the three women you first saw yesterday, who were sitting in metal chairs with various foods on top of their rounded shaped table.

"We just want you to join us for breakfast, relax," said the woman, who, if you're not mistaken, gave you that intriguing smirk before heading her way to their dining spot.

"And we hate repeating ourselves, so mind if you don't piss us off early in the morning, would ya?" the small girl said as her demeanor and tone imbued with angst. You took a deep breath in response to what she had just said.

"O-okay... I'm sorry," you said, nodding your head. You took a step closer to them and only stood alongside them when the brown haired woman denied the notion of you remaining like that for the rest of the conversation.

"No need for that, come here and sit with us," she said, motioning you to follow and sit very close to these ladies.

"Don't be scared, okay, we won't bite... unless you like," said the woman who gave you the same exact smirk last night as she noticed you getting tense just being around them. She laughed as your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you caught the lip bite she performed after her joke.

"Momo-unnie, will you be grateful? There's food in front of you," said the girl with a mole beneath her small red lips as she sliced the croissant bread in her plate.

"You act like you don't know me well, little cub. I always crave for more and more especially if I found it... delicious.", this woman who keeps teasing you which you learned that her name is Momo based from what her sister called her traced you with by her eyes up and down. A blush crept up on your cheeks after hearing what she just said.

"Stop it, you two.",the brown bunny looking girl warned her chaotic and playful sisters. "Anyways. You must be wondering where the hell you are today.", she continued talking without looking at you as her eyes still focused on her meal. "You're in our property and no you didn't trespassed."

"We're the ones who took you here.", the small girl followed up.

"And you must thank us for that, we saved your ass from being squashed out there last night," Momo said, explaining why you ended up in here after having no idea what happened after the beating you received from those gangsters.

It also makes sense now why you got treated and thus preserving the stinging pain from the affected areas of your body to prevent hurting you further.

If it weren't for them, you may have been left as a dead body laying down the street when your breath degraded from the number of strikes you received. You owe them your life.

"T-Thank you, Miss..."

"Nayeon, Im Nayeon.", the brown haired bunny finally introduces herself by revealing her name. "I forgot we haven't got to introduce ourselves, our apologies."

"Hirai Momo," you already knew her name, but you were relieved to learn that you now also knew her full name, which was somewhat... distinctive and unmistakably non-Korean You predicted that Momo might be of a different nationality based on her appearance, accent, and name.

"Son Chaeyoung," the third sister and, it appears, the youngest, also shared her given name.

"We all may have different surnames, but that's just their way of bringing on the name of their bloodline after they were abandoned due to some... unfortunate events," Nayeon clarified to alleviate any confusion that may have emerged after hearing why they don't share the same surname despite them being siblings. They don't appear to have husbands yet, so that possibility was ruled out.

"And my family took them both to make us be as one. A little unfair, what's your name then, pretty boy?", Nayeon gave you the freedom to also introduce yourselves just like what they did.

"Y/N. L/N Y/N."

"Cute name. Now I know what I'll be moan-"

Chaeyoung dropped her fork and spoon to her plate, causing it to create a loud glass banging sound. "UNNIE!", she aggressively scolded her older sister although that wasn't her mostly rights to do so. Your eyes widened when you heard that suspicious word from Nayeon.

" Aish, zip it cub. As if you don't think the same way.", Momo rolled her eyes out and cross her arms below her chest.

Chaeyoung's face flared with some heat of guilt and embarassment as she caught with that. "D-damn you, unnie."

Nayeon returned to being serious as she engaged you more in conversation about some specific topic regarding the reason for being an outsider who doesn't belong at all in this kind of place. "Anyway, when we first saw you back at the restaurant... you seemed fascinating, and we thought of a plan to have you because we all have the same views," she began to explain. "Of course, it worked because..."

"We always get what we want," Momo boasted with a smug grin on her face. "We kept our eyes on you till we eventually decided to come back and locate you, and there you go. We spotted you there getting targeted by those scums, and we just lured them away," she added, amazed that they not only saved you but also made those gangsters threaten them.

"Mind if we ask, how's your job? Do you like it?" Chaeyoung queried as she sipped her hot tea.

"Honestly speaking, I do not. Things would turn out different if only my boss gets to be fair and treat us properly.", you said with a disappointing tone before you finally get your hands in your utensils to help yourself eat your own breakfast that was made exclusively for you.

"What does your boss do to you and your fellow employees?"

"Well he mostly give us overtime, scolds us that much, hell he doesn't even value our hardwork well and only gives us such small amount of salary. He's simply bad, if I must say.", you described as those moments replayed back inside your head.

"Alright then, let's go to my next question if that so.", Chaeyoung said, looking at you intently. "What if we tell you we got something to offer for you."

"W-what is it, Miss Chaeyoung?", you stuttered, curious as to what is it they have reserved for you.

"We want you become our companion. Pure basics, that's all.", Nayeon said.

"W-wait... what does this mean?"

"It means you'll stay with us and keep us company; let's say that's also your job," Momo clarified.

"We'd also want to meet some new friends to... get together with, where we could invite for some fun too," Chaeyoung added, snickering at the last words since she knew she purposely made it double-meaning, but luckily you didn't get it totally as naivety seized control of you.

"And we tell you that once you say yes, you won't regret it. As long as you convince us that you're worth it. We are always loyal to our words."

"About the salary also, leave it to us. It's way better than what your boss can give you. You want to get satisfied, so as we and both of us can get what we want. Win-win situation.", Momo assured you.

"So, what do you say?"

"O-ofcourse, yes! I'll take it.", you immediately accepted their offer, stopping from eating to state your answer at these ladies who were anticipating to hear it from you. "I need it so bad to survive and pay all my debts please."

"I knew it would be that easy," Nayeon said casually, leaning back in her chair, relieved and pleased with your decision. She shared a smile with her step-sisters, who were feeling the same way she was. "Your duty begins as soon as you are fully recovered; for the time being, take a break, and we'll keep you in our care."

You quickly stood up and bowed your head in gratitude and appreciation for their assistance.

As of now, you can consider yourself lucky because you never imagined that from what these kind-hearted people saw and heard about your situation and how you act in the eyes of everyone would prompt them to lend you the assistance you will undoubtedly require and are likely expecting you to use it wisely.

"Thank you again, Miss Nayeon, Miss Momo, and Miss Chaeyoung; I will do my best never to let you down."

As you bent your head in gratitude, smiling and tearing up in delight at their wonderful gesture of blessing, the three of them glanced at each other and sneered in triumph that they now have you in their possession.

----------

They have kept their word weeks later. The girls were treating you well, providing you with food and proper clothing, as well as converting the guest room you used to sleep in when they brought you into their mansion into your own temporary large bedroom only for yourself and many more.

You also resigned to your workplace for good.

You reasoned that all of this was insufficient for a simple thank you. That's why you kept reminding yourself every day that you needed to do something in return for them to match the value of what they were giving you.

You're also gradually and steadily impressing the females with your abilities to correctly execute your position as their butler/ companion.

Still, not at all times during your stay with them were calm and peaceful. Sometimes you also got to endure all the scoldings then proceeded by a little teasing and seducing you receive from the girls which you quietly admit; you do found it intimidating yet sexy and alluring for him that had you perturbed and troubled by it.

Momo appearing behind YN who is cooking their dinner with her freshly new bathed body only covered in towel, Chaeyoung commanding to help her spread sunblock all over her body while wearing swimsuit and all of them teasing him while they're swimming in their pool.

(FLASHBACK)

"Hey, after this breakfast... would you join me to exercise?", she requested after swallowing a spoonful of java rice and bits of bacon from her plate. "Wait, have you already taken a bath?"

"Not yet, Miss.", you said, shaking your head. "Sure, why not Miss Nayeon. I could use it to wind up before starting my day."

Nayeon nodded and beamed a smile. "Good, we can sweat off before getting into shower...

... unless you wanna join me to save water?"

You nearly got choked from drinking your orange juice after Nayeon said that. That didn't left unnoticed by Nayeon as she constantly laughed at your astounded reaction.

You became silent as you felt awkward, nervous and embarassed with your cheeks blushing intensely.

"Just kidding.", she cutely laughed and clapped her hand in amusement. She saw you slowly stood up from your seat, bring your empty plate with you to the kitchen just to release the uneasiness you felt being with her on the table.

"Hey wait for me then let's change after.", you just simply nodded as you have no more words to say for her next.

Now geared up with your workout attire, some simple sweatpants, clean gray t-shirt and your own mid-looking sneakers, you entered Nayeon's own gym and took the treadmill first while she went performing pilates.

And, yeah, you weren't safe enough from the teaseful bunny when it's very evident while you're running on the treadmill that she's purposefully bending her body with her curves all presented to you, especially her backdoor pointing straight at you and her head tilting with a menacing grin, causing you to only shake your head for mercy.

~~~~~~

"What are you cooking at, YN?", you heard Momo asked from behind while you're focused cooking the food you chose for you and them to eat for tonight.

"Oh, uhh Miss Hirai tonight's dinner is-", you placed down the spatula at the container where you placed some ingredients a while ago and turned around.

Only to have your eyes met with the figure of Momo standing... with her body barely covered in white towel. Just as when your vision accidentally dropped to that cleavage peeking out from the fabric, you leaned your face away to avoid yourself get misunderstood as a pervert.

"OH MY GOD.... S-SORRY, I DIDN'T KNOW Y-YOU'RE... FRESH OUT OF BATH...", you frantically apologized but that only resulted with a giggle from her.

"You're cute, YN. Get used to it, you're living here with us now.", she said. You returned back from cooking, grabbing some bowl to place the food once it is done. "Maybe someday, you'll be seeing more than this.", your ears flared at the possible hidden meaning behind it.

"Can I see how's your cooking so far?", you sensed her walking closer to your side. Her scent was so refreshing and undeniably pleasant. An aroma of jasmine and lavender is present withing her.

She stood beside you and grabbed your shoulder randomly as she peeked at the overview of the meal and inspecting it closer, her chest kinda pressing against your arm as you tried to endure the awkwardness and uncomfiness you feel. You don’t know whether she’s doing this on purpose or not but even if you want to tell her about this, it may sound too weird so you have no other choice but to just let it be. She hummed in satisfaction from her judgement. "Looks delicious, can't wait taste you-", she elicited a soft yet seducing voice when she said that, gulping heavily at her attempt.

"Oops I meant the food.", she fakely realized her mistake, poking the tip of your nose.

Before she walked away, she leaned closer one more to you another ear. "But it wasn't a joke either.", she giggled. What she said caused you to get stunned and left blushing intensely at how daring this Japanese woman is.

"Call us if its ready now.", she reminded you before she went upstairs to go to her room and wear her new clothes.

"Y-yes, Miss Hirai."

~~~~~

"YN, come here.", Chaeyoung gestured at you to get near to her.

"Yes, Miss Son?", you asked as you stood beside her, both hands locked at back.

"Would you help me apply sunscreen to my body?", she asked after placing the magazine she's reading back at the table. She grabbed the bottle of sunscreen below her chair and gave it to you

"Do I have the permission, Miss?", you repeated for assurance nervously because you're knew you're about to go to touch her entire body to spread lotion all over it.

"If it's you, then yes.", Chaeyoung said, bouncing her head once. " You're free to touch and feel me anytime, boy.", she crept up a wide curve at one edge of her lips and once again, you had the same reaction to what Nayeon and Momo's teaseful words they have in her pockets.

You took the bottle away from Chaeyoung's grip as she repositioned her posture on the folding beach chair, her front body pressed below and exposing her entire back and perfect sculptured body shape to you.

"Now hurry up and start."

(END OF FLASHBACK)

Aside from these, you also found their cute and soft side that adds to the effectiveness that there is starting to grow some strange and deep feelings you're having from the girls.

For Nayeon, it started when you watched a movie together with her on her bedroom. Right when the movie rolled its credits, Nayeon fell asleep in your shoulder and her cute plump cheeks squished at your collarbone.

You stared at her adorable looks before helping her to lay down on the bed and make her sleep comfortable.

Next, for Momo, it began with some fundamental teachings to slowly learn how to battle and combat with your opponents effortlessly. She is your instructor because she is the most skilled in this zone, having won multiple jiu-jitsu, karate taekwondo, and other martial arts tournaments.

She demonstrates you how to trap someone on the ground so he couldn't dodge your attacks. With her posing as your opponent, you got her trapped in your arms just to set yourself up in an extremely uneasy and fluttering deep eye to eye contact. It allowed you to take some time to appreciate how much more stunning she is up close before breaking up the moment with a false cough and removing yourself on top of her.

And lastly on Chaeyoung, it started when you accompanied her to visit some vintage shops, fashion markets and even having a picnic with her.

You enjoyed it so much with her that even your admiration towards her increased because of how she's the most easiest one for you to get along with since your humor matches with her during your talk with her and not to mention, her own style and definition of beauty got you in awe.

However, this only makes you confused on knowing who is the first one responsible for making you become like this because you believe that you must only choose one of them.

On the other hand, you didn't know that due to your own personal attractive looks and kind personality too by treating the girls respectfully and with pure gentle, it add to the points of each one of them to fall in love with you at the same time.

(3 MONTHS LATER)

It's been 3 months since you were assigned by the three sisters, right now you joined the girls outside to attend an occasion celebrating the 50th Anniversary of the foundation of their municipality of Seocho.

Standing at the same stage behind Lim Jihoon, the mayor of the city, Nayeon's beloved biological father and Momo and Chaeyoung's step-father who took the lead of the ceremony by delivering his speech to the citizens and the media.

"Today, as we commemorate and celebrate another historic milestone of our city with love and respect, let us not always forget every hardship, dedication and sacrifice that ouf forefathers has put into our municipality.", Mayor Lim spoke to the microphone, moving his head back and forth to watch the crowd in front of him attentively listening to his speech.

"From what I can see for the future of our city as long as we'll stay committed and love what we're doing, I believe our city could improve more as time progresses. Thank you and once again, Happy 70th Anniversary to Seocho!", everyone clapped their hands as he finished.

As he bowed after placing down his microphone and stepped away from the podium, you quickly saw someone from the crowd just standing at the first row from the left pulling out his knife.

He stood from his seat and rushed through the stage, not tsking even the staircase at the side just to charge through the Mayor.

"MAYOR LIM!", the suspect got near to the Mayor and the knife was buried down to the flesh. As he slowly gets up from his feet, he met a low blow and a smooth roundhouse kick coming from Momo herself, effectively knocking him out to the ground for the guards and other guests to arrest this stranger.

He may have successfully hurt someone, but he had no idea that he actually failed because the target was left unharmed.

Instead, it got you when you quickly tackled the Mayor aside but the blade of the knife hits your left stomach.

"A-are you okay, Mayor?", you asked Mayor Lim who is lying down beneath you.

" I-I am.", he nodded while breathing heavily. He felt something wet was dripping to his hand. As he take a look at it, he was taken aback that it was actually blood coming out of your wounded stomach.

"Hey, wait... y-you're bleeding.", just as when the Mayor shouted including the girls to ask for emergency, you collapsed beside him and fell unconscious on the stage.

----------

You slowly opened your eyes and met by a strong struck of bright white lighting from the ceiling.

Recovering your vision from blurry back to normal, you felt your left arm hravy as if a weight was compressing it. Looking below you, it was Momo's head laid on your arm as she sounded asleep.

You also saw Chaeyoung sleeping on the couch and there's Nayeon whose legs are being used by the younger as a pillow while sitting and typing focusedly on her phone.

You cleared your throat as you prepared to speak to grab the other awake person in the room. "N-Nayeon."

She heard it quickly, dragging down her phone away as she slightly raised her sight to see you now fully awake. Her eyes largened and immediately shook Chaeyoung's sleeping body followed by Momo.

" YN!", they all shouted your name simultaneously. Momo hugged you right away while Nayeon and Chaeyoung rushed to your other side.

"Finally you're awake.", Nayeon said as she patted your leg.

"How are you feeling?", Momo asked.

"We got so worried about you.", Chaeyoung said.

"Wait wait, girls please calm down.", you calmed them down to ease theirselves from rapid firing the questions they want to ask regarding your condition worriedly. "I'm fine... it's just my stomach... kinda stings a little.", you winced as another finger-pinch like level of pain just irritatingly appeared.

"That was such a crazy idea what you did back there earlier.", Momo said, slapping your arm gently in a slight frustration before her lips went formed into a frown afterwards. " You took the stab instead of my father who was suppose to receive it."

"But... we would like to thank you so much for saving our father, YN.", Nayeon said, warm smile in her face.

"He could've died after the speech but thanks to you, you selflessly risked yourself to protect our father.", Momo said.

"Not a problem at all. That's what I need to do, I can't let the girls I'm keeping company with to get emotional damaged if I just let and watch their own father die athough I knew something like it could happen which I can prevent with.", you humbly appreciated their pleasing remarks, softly smiling in return for them.

The door of your hospital room then opened, revealing Mayor Lim along with his two bodyguards carrying a basket of fruits and a paper bag.

"Oh, you're now up I see.", Mayor Lim said after he walked near at your bed.

"Mayor.", you acknowledged him.

"So you're YN.", Mayor Lim hummed interestingly, glaring at her three daughter with a tightlipped smile. "My daughters told me about you. You're their new found friend who's serving also a butler for these three."

"I am, sir. It's a pleasure to meet you.", you and him handshaked.

"Same as I, especially now that I know this man in front of me saved my life in front of the public not for fame but as by your own will for my protection.", he smiled.

"I wanted to face you personally and send my deepest gratitude for what you did. I owe you a lot, how could I repay you?"

"Uhm, sorry sir but it's fine... you can k-", you were then interrupted by him to decline ahead what you're about to say.

"No, take it.", he waved his head and arms to persuade you. "Fine, I'll be the one who'll decide in your behalf. Go spend a vacation with my daughters.", your mouth parted as you gasped in shock. Meanwhile the girls silently celebrated in excitement from what they heard to their father.

"Leave to me everything, rest assured that it'll be all sorted out quickly. And don't you dare decline, YN.", he jokingly threatened you. "In our family, we always get what we want.", he said exactly the sentence his daughters also mentioned months ago when you had your first conversation with them.

You guessed that maybe it was their family's main catchphrase or whatsoever, but you know they meant it for real because if it isn't, you weren't be sharing the same space with them as of the moment.

"O-okay... thank you so much for that, Mayor Lim even though that wasn't needed.", you chuckled awkwardly.

"There you go.", he impressively reacted. He looked at his silver wristwatch and fixed his suit. "I have to go now, I still have to meet the press and state the update.", he said, moving his head around to look at you and his daughters.

"Take care my daughters and also you YN, get well soon."

"Be safe, Mayor Lim."

"Bye dad.", they group hugged their father and was returned with a pat on each of their crowns before he exits the room and closed the door.

All four of you looked at each other with a wide smile.

"Well, what more we could say, let's spend together your reward well YN.", Nayeon said and you nodded understandably back to her.

(2 WEEKS LATER)

Based on what you four discussed about where you should all go for vacation, it was decided that you will go to Hawaii with them based on how Nayeon started the recommendation, which was followed by Momo and Chaeyoung's desire to visit that place.

You didn't argued about it and just followed what they wanted because technically, the money given to you by their father still belongs to them, so you can't just take full control of the vacation plan.

Spending for a week being in there, all of you explored every tourist spots in Hawaii and captured your precious moments having them throughout the whole tour. All you can tell about it was that it might be the happiest days you've ever had in your entire life so far. Never thought you'll be meeting such people like them and gain connection and closeness with Nayeon, Momo and Chaeyoung despite of the huge diversity between each of your social statuses.

Now returned back to South Korea a week later, you are now sitting inside the car with Momo and Chaeyoung on each of your sides. Nayeon is operating the wheels as she drives you all to this unknown destination they've been saying that you must be in there for you to learn why do they have to keep this as a surprise.

Nayeon slowed down the speed of the car and parked it. She informed you three in the passenger's seat that you four have reached the place. Getting off the car, you followed the three step-sisters as all of you slowly heads onto a structure that is almost near from being completely constructed.

It has been painted now that contributes design and decoration to attract people who could see this. The structure is pretty wide and tall and as what you can see on how it was stylized, it looks like a newly soon to be opened expensive restaurant serving Korean and Japanese dishes which you can't surely afford based on how the artistic representation of cultures were perfectly mixed and balanced and ofcourse, you never entered such restaurant like how this will suppose to be.

As your jaw dropped in amazement at how magnificent it looks, still looking up and staring at the exterior being shined by the bright postlights, Nayeon asked you something.

"How was it?"

"Stupendous and amazing.", you said it with awe, not letting the gap of your mouth to sealed out of astonishment.

"Do you like it?", Momo asked you, crossing her arms as she smiled at your flabbergasted reaction.

"Yeah, all of it looks so cool.", you nodded.

"Great..." Chaeyoung responded.

... because that's all yours. Even the suit you're wearing and the car we brought with us."

You went into utter disbelief after hearing it from Chaeyoung. Furrowing your eyebrows in an immense confusion, you turned your head fast at Chaeyoung to ask if your hearing functioned properly when she said it: "E-excuse me? What?"

" You heard me. I hate repeating myself remember?", Chaeyoung blurted lazily.

You ditched your act as you let go of the overwhelming sensation you're experiencing right now. "S-seriously?" they all asked, smiling as they nodded. You choked on your breath at how unreal this is. "O-oh God, sorry but no I... can't accept this."

Nayeon went closer to you and tilted her head sideways to glance at you ridiculously. "Why not?"

"I just don't feel like I deserve so much of these.", you shrugged, sighing heavily on your negative comment regarding on the perspective you have to yourself when it comes to them.

"You girls have been providing me everything, spending luxurious and costly foods, attires, allowing me to reside in your mansion, and now I'll find out that I also have my own business and car now?" you enumerated. "T-this is enough, girls... I feel like you three are turning into my sugar mommies or something, so I think we should stop here," you said, your head bowed in shame.

"No, we want to do it that's why and you don't even have to worry it about it. We don't care if we are spending money too much on you that makes us your sugar mommies because... well, we actually like the sound of it huh.", Nayeon said, sniggering at the idea of them keeping it real as their roles in your life now since it was the truth anyways.

" We don't mind it and we have no problem being like that to you... and atleast we know it wasn't getting wasted and is in good hands."

"Unnie's right.", Momo seconded. "As what you said too that you don't deserve any of this, if that was true then why haven't we get you kicked out of the house yet?", she questioned you about the logic, which you remained silent because she's making a point you can't deny. She took your silence as the answer to prove her reason.

"Exactly, because you impressed us and earned our respect and trust after everything you've done for us on allowing yourself to accompany us, showing your good-hearted personality, work to serve and most importantly, saving our father's life."

"We don't know anymore if thats ain't enough for the proofs, YN.", Chaeyoung joined her sisters to assure you that you weren't being such a burden to them leading you to overthink too much.

"So, don't you dare say it to our face that you don't deserve any of this because you are worth it. And not only actually from all of what Momo-unnie said, you got another thing from us that we don't have a problem dealing with it no longer.", Chaeyoung then blushed as she knew that she just changed the topic and knows where is this gonna go. Momo and Nayeon noticed it but you didn't due to how oblivious you are. They took it as a signal for them to begin.

"You're worthy to receive everything for us because we... we love you, YN.", Nayeon said it seriously in front of your face, trying her best to keep her composure.

"E-ehh? W-what?", you exclaimed, too bewildered at what's happenin now that the very unexpected revelation was just started by Nayeon herself. "N-not... no way, wait all of you... love me?", you asked once again with your crumpled face expression.

"Ever since we saw back at the restaurant you were previously working on, our interest got pinned at that time on you", Momo took the honors to explain what's gotten into them falling in love with some broke-ass, less than average, unattractive stranger like you.

"And when we got you, it increased more with admiration by just how better you are than those stupid rich men who can't provide what we're looking for and what we want from them."

"You made yourself differ from them.", Chaeyoung pinpointed. "We know that you must chose one, and so as we. We did try to compete against each other on who could stole your heart... but the further we go, we came up with a better idea.", she nailed exactly what she mentioned about your thoughts when you developed the same romantic fond and strong feelings to your heart whenever you're with them.

"So, YN... answer us honestly first, who do you secretly hold strong feelings among the three of us?", Nayeon inquired curiously as well as Momo and Chaeyoung who are now expecting for your answer.

"I...

"I don't...", their heart skipped.

"I actually do like all of you too.", you declared, all of them slightly surprised by it because they knew no one can compare to them. They were quite looking forward to it already that they will successful enchant and hypnotize you with their dizzying and attracting combined charms one day... which was already arrived at this moment.

They can see it also in your face all along even if you hide it.

It made them felt relived that they made you broke out from your innocence and unsuspecting trait.

"And I admit, I started to grow feelings for all three of you from how you girls treat me and changed my horrible life back from being peaceful after that single hello before when we all first talked together.", you recalled, smiling at that memory that you never thought would led you in this situation. "I tried to decide at first on who would I pick but these days it makes it even more complicated."

"So does that mean you love all three of us?", Chaeyoung asked for clarification althought it seems like it actually what she's thinking along with her sisters.

"I-I do.", you rubbed your arm nervously. All othree of them smiled sweetly at your response that felt so soothing for them to hear.

Momo went closer to you, grabbing your hand from clutching at your arm as her touch helps you to calm down and throw away your uneasiness about the confession you made.

She tangled her own hand against yours and softly smiled at how great it looks and feels holding hands with a beautiful woman like Momo. "Then love us together.", she suggested.

Nayeon walked behind you and wrapped her arms around your waist. "You're ours and we're all yours anyways, YN. What do you say?", she said it near at your right ear, feeling her breath tickling you a little from it's contact to your skin. She snuggled her face at the crook of your neck after, inhaling your intoxicating manly perfume scent.

"I-I could do that.", you nodded in assurance. " I promise I will love all three of you by doubling my efforts to do my best on giving all my attention and to pour all my love and care on each one of you equally and with fairness just to be a good boyfriend for you three.", you sweared to your words, smiling at Momo in front of you, Chaeyoung at your side and Nayeon at your back.

Chaeyoung then locked your arms with hers and cuddled with it adorably just like the little small but terrible cub she is.

"And that's all we need to know.", Chaeyoung then leaned her face closer, placing a peck of kiss to your left cheek. Nayeon followed afterwards by kissing your right cheek and finally Momo took the jackpot by hitting the bullseye with her lips connecting with yours.

She saw Nayeon and Chaeyoung pouting, as they felt like they got robbed of the opportunity. "Sorry girls.", she said as poked her lips twice teasing them more. You just blushed at her actions.

"We love you, YN.", they expressed their heartwarming love for you.

"I love you girls too.", you reciprocated. They all grinned widely before they had you encased in a tight group hug. You gave another kiss to each top of their heads once more to show your warm affection towards them as their new boyfriend.

"As long as you're with us, your life will always change for the better.", Momo guaranteed you. You know that will happen so you just let them do it while you also do yours by being passionate and committed on having them as your lovers.

"Let's go back to our home now, we can continue to celebrate there.", Nayeon insisted. "I bought us some wine to drink and maybe... increase our level of fun there tonight if we could.", they all smirked mischieviously which made you stunned and gulp tensefully at their seducive expressions. You remained speechless as they giggled at their teasing at you again.

Back at the red and black colored convertible Ford Mustang car which is now all yours, all of you hopped in with you now taking the lead on driving it for the first time as the owner.

During the drive across the towering overpass bridge , they all vibed and sang along to their favorite music in this moment above the open city as their own fanfare with their hands up in the air along the overflowing joy they feel of successfully establishing a new relationship with you, with these three hottest and baddest chicks now officially your girlfriends and presumably now joining them on running the whole city too.

---------- END ---------- -🐰🦝🐯-

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