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pascallftv · 4 months

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Girl Next Door

Next Part Series Masterlist

Dbf!Joel x F!Reader AU

Word count: 5.6k

Summary: You move back into your dad’s farmhouse in the serene countryside after you graduate college. Your dad hires Joel Miller, his best friend and neighbor, to remodel your private bathroom. Your dad is a truck driver and leaves for a work trip for several weeks, leaving Joel in your company to do his renovations and watch over you. Unbeknownst to you, Joel is just as much infatuated with you as you are with him.

Content: This fic will last multiple parts along with plot. It will be slow burn but I promise it’ll be worth it.

Warning: This first part contains mature content but is mostly plot based. (Mentions of masturbation (m and f), dirty thoughts)

This fic will contain a relationship with a 22/48 age gap. Some parts will contain mature content. There is a plot but chapters may be read separately if desired.

“Hi, babygirl.” Your dad said, pulling you in for a tight hug, swinging back and forth in your driveway.

You had just gotten back from your six hour drive home from your university in Chicago. The past four years of your life were stowed away in your little white compact SUV. Your college career had flown by in a blur; it felt like just yesterday you were a mere freshman on campus without a clue in the world as to what you were doing with the rest of your life. Fast forward and you were moving back home to stay with your father as you began your new fully remote digital marketing job. You were lucky enough to land a full-time position with a digital marketing company after completing an internship with them the summer before your senior year of college. Eventually you saw yourself living in a big city like LA, but for the time being, you decided to move back home to your dad’s house to save up some money.

Besides, you hadn’t seen your father in months. He was a full time truck driver, so your schedules clashed terribly. Over your breaks at school, your dad was conveniently scheduled to do month long drives. You missed him terribly, so you moving back home was going to allow you to rebuild your relationship with your father.

“I’m so happy to see you. I’ve got your bedroom all clean and ready to go.” Your father said as you pulled away from your hug. His eyes were beaming with excitement. Growing up, you had always been extremely close. When your mother left him when you were just three years old, he took on the job of raising you as a single father. Eventually when you were old enough to be left home alone, he landed a job with a trucking company to deliver supplies across the country. The decision was tough because the last thing your dad wanted was to leave you for weeks at a time, but the salary was too good to pass up with you eventually wanting to attend a four year university. Your college education was extremely important to your father, so seeing his baby girl all grown up with a degree and a full-time job made him so proud.

“Great!” You said, looking back at your car. “I have so much shit to carry in. Mind giving me a hand?”

“I guess.” Your dad said, his tone laced with mock dread.

You and your dad spent the next hour and a half carrying all of your belongings to your bedroom. You hadn’t realized how much shit you had collected over the past few years. By the time you were finished, you were both exhausted. You both sat in the living room sofa, biting into delivery pizza and sipping on soda. You sat with your legs perched up on the sofa cushion, and you felt so homey and accomplished. You started your first day of work at the start of next week. You were incredibly nervous for your first day, but you decided to shift your focus on spending time with your dad.

“So,” he began, “you remember Joel, right?”

Of course you remembered Joel. Joel Miller moved into the house next door the summer you graduated high school. You’d see him occasionally that summer, typically when you’d go outside to sunbathe and he was working on various chores in his yard. You both lived in farmhouses on expansive land in the middle of the country. He spent his time doing yard work and various home renovations when he wasn’t doing contractor work for his clients. You’d spoken to him on various occasions when your dad would invite him over for cookouts or to watch football games. He was a rather reserved man, something in his past making him an abrasive person. Joel had never been rude to you, but he hadn’t been overly kind either. However, that was his normal to you.

“Of course.” You said, taking another bite of pizza. Your dad sat his plate down on the coffee table, then settled back down into his couch cushion.

“I decided since you’re going to be living here full time again that I’d hire Joel to renovate your bathroom. It’s so outdated and I’d rather you have a space that’s fully functioning for when I’m gone. Besides, I want your space to be the best it can be.” Your dad explained. You smiled at him setting your pizza crust back onto your plate.

“Aw, well thank you, Dad.” You beamed up at him, setting your plate next to his on the table. “So what will the renovations consist of? Will it be functional or is he ripping it out completely?”

“If he’s going to do it, I’d rather him start from scratch and build you the bathroom to your liking. I’ll have you two sit down and discuss what you want done so he can go shop from supplies and get an idea of what you want. He’s going to get started at the beginning of next week.” He explained further. “But— I leave for a work trip on Monday and I won’t be back for at least five weeks. I figured you two can handle it and Joel is my buddy, so I trust him.”

Your dad went on about how if you needed anything while he was gone with work, that Joel had offered to help you out. Whether that was if you had any issues with repairs in the house, errands, or simply just someone to confide in. It was summer, and the weather typically got bad in your area. Tornadoes and severe weather weren’t strangers in your region, and it made you and your dad feel safer that someone like Joel was on standby.

“Already, honey. I’m beat. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” Your dad said, standing up from the couch. You stood up next to him and reached out for another hug.

“Goodnight, Dad. Thank you for helping me today. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You said, your dad squeezing you tight.

Your dad normally wasn’t an affectionate guy, so you knew he was ecstatic for you to be home. This warmed your heart.

The next day, you spent most of the day unpacking most of your belongings. You started with your clothing, and ended with your toiletries and other essentials. When you were finished, you decided to throw on your bikini to go sunbathe in the backyard. It was a beautiful summer day, and you wanted nothing more than to relax and catch a tan before you spent most of your days inside on your computer. You slipped on your black bikini. It was simple, but it was flattering on your curves and showed off your patchwork tattoos. You threw on your black sunglasses, making sure to grab your headphones, then grabbed a towel from your bathroom. Your dad was right— it was very outdated and your shower and sink were showing signs of age. You were surprised both of them still functioned properly.

When you walked outside, you caught eye of your dad sitting across from someone on the patio. The figure sitting in the chair across from your father’s had ashy brown hair with streaks of gray running through it. He was wearing a washed out denim button up and a pair of dark washed jeans, acccompanied with a worn out pair of work boots. You quickly realized it was Joel.

Your dad’s head turned at the sound of you opening and closing the patio door. He immediately cracked and smile and waved at you.

“Hi sweetie.” He squinted at you, the midday sun bright against his bare eyes. Joel turned his head to to the side, locking eyes on you. He observed you with his dark brown eyes and a knit brow. He ran his calloused fingers over his salt and pepper beard as he took in the sight of you in just your skimpy bikini. Your dad introduced you as you walked towards them, you suddenly feeling insecure under his friend’s gaze. You hadn’t realized Joel was over, otherwise you wouldn’t have stepped out in minimal clothing.

“I’m sure you remember each other.” You dad continued, gesturing between the both if you. Joel nodded, his eyes baring into the dim lenses of your sunglasses.

“I do, you’re much more grown now than the last time I’d seen ya.” Joel said, his voice deep and gruff. Your stomach did a flip at his words. Why were you feeling this way?

Get a grip. You told yourself.

“Yeah.” You breathed out. “18 to 22 is a lifetime within itself.”

Joel nodded then looked back towards your father.

“I told her that you’ll be working on her bathroom for the next several weeks while I’m gone. She might run into a hiccup here and there where she might need to call you over for some help. Shouldn’t give ya too much trouble.” Your dad teased, his eyes dancing between the two of you. Joel nodded and took a sip out of the beer bottle in his hand then dropped it to rest on the arm of his chair.

“I won’t have any other gigs lined up while I’m working here. I should be around if you need me.” Joel spoke, his gaze finding yours once again. You sent him a gracious smile.

“Wonderful, thank you.” You replied. After a moment, you glanced down at your attire and cleared your throat. “I won’t keep you. I came out to get some sun before I’m stuck inside working next week.”

Joel’s eyes were still locked on you, his gaze flickering down your body and back up to eye level. Your skin felt on fire under his stare. There was something about how stern and rigorous his aura was that held your attention captive. The newfound attraction you were suddenly feeling for Joel had you puzzled and almost appalled at yourself. He was definitely a handsome man, but he was over twice you age and he was your father’s best friend. You internally scolded yourself. You weren’t sure why you were suddenly feeling this way towards Joel, but you knew you’d have to shun those thoughts away. It was preposterous.

“There’s a chance for storms next week, get that sun while you can.” Your dad said, your eyes moving from Joel to him. You frowned and adjusted the towel in your arms.

“Great.” You said sarcastically. “I’ll leave you guys to it.”

You sent them both a smile and your father waved you off. You ventured off the patio and onto the trimmed green grass of the backyard. You father and Joel’s properties were gorgeous. The expansive land overlooked a spacious field with a forest in the distance. Just before the unruly tall grass of the field was a large manmade pond with a dock that Joel had built the summer he moved in. The country was serene and beautiful. The only sounds were those of the wind whistling and the occasional airplane flying overhead.

You laid your large beach towel down on the grass. You put on your headphones and carefully laid down on your back. The sun already felt amazing on your skin. During the school year, you hadn’t had much free time to do little self care things like this. You knew the sun wasn’t great for your skin in the long run, but it wasn’t often you got to bask in the sunshine.

As you sunbathed, your dad and Joel engaged in random conversations. They discussed the weather, recent football news, the bathroom remodel, and various other things. Your dad did most of the talking while Joel tried his best to interpret what he was saying. Joel’s gaze was fixated on how perfect your breasts looked as you laid on your back taking in the sunshine. Your nipples were peeking through the thin fabric of your bikini top, not leaving much to his imagination. He adjusted in his chair. He felt his cock hardening inside of his jeans, and mentally he was punching himself. You were way too young for him. Not only was the age gap an issue, but you were his best friend’s daughter. Despite how morally distraught these feelings were making him, Joel couldn’t bring himself to take his eyes off of you. He’d avert his gaze to the pasture every so often so your father wouldn’t catch on, but every time he felt his attention reverting right back to your body.

“I hate that I won’t be here when you’re remodeling.” Your father said, rubbing the bottom of his beer bottle in circle on the wooden arm rest of his chair, observing the stains the condensation from the chilled glass left. “But I trust your judgment. And I trust her taste.”

“You know me. I’m a perfectionist.” Joel’s lips twisted into a half smile, lifting his beer to take another sip. Your father smiled back at him, chuckling and shaking his head.

“You’ll probably drive her crazy with how particular you are.” Your dad joked. It went quiet for a second, the both of them sitting in the peaceful quiet in thought.

“You know, I really thought she’d be engaged and off in some big city somewhere by now.” Your dad spoke, his head leaning back and him closing his eyes to feel the sun beating down on his skin. Joel swallowed hard, looking back towards you. You’d flipped on your stomach, your ass on perfect display for him. His cock twitched in his pants, and he quickly adjusted himself before your father reopened his eyes.

“Why’s that?” Joel responded.

“She’s always been such a romantic. Dunno where she got it from, sure as hell wasn’t me. After her mom left, I didn’t even try to date.” He began. “When she was teenager she was obsessed with romance films and novels. She was always crushing on someone.”

Your dad ran a hand through his graying hair and sighed.

“She got her heart broken pretty bad her senior year of high school. She was dating this asshole for two years and then he cheated on her. Since then, I don’t think she’s even tried to date. Makes me sad for her, but then again I guess it let her focus on her school work.” He explained. Joel felt a tightness in his chest at his words. He was almost jealous.

You were one of the most beautiful women Joel had ever laid eyes on. Not only were you pretty, but you were a kind, wise soul. In the times he’d been around you before you left for college, you acted beyond your years. You were intelligent and engaging to speak to. His infatuation with you had started when you were eighteen, but he had always shunned away his attraction for everyone’s sake.

Joel did know one thing for sure. He didn’t know how in the hell he was going to hide his feelings for you for the next several weeks.

Monday came sooner than you had anticipated. You had said goodbye to your father the night before because you knew Monday was going to be chaotic with him loading up his luggage for his trip while you were making sure your setup was flawless for your first day of remote work. You’d spent the rest of the weekend rearranging you bedroom and workspace while also prioritizing spending time with your father. You were used to rarely seeing him while you were away at college, but it still pained you to see him leave for the next several weeks.

You began work at nine in the morning. You were a digital marketing assistant for a company within the entertainment industry, so your daily tasks consisted of editing social media content. As long as you got your tasks done for the day, you could take breaks and technically end your day whenever you wanted. By two in the afternoon you had already finished your first day of work, and you immediately felt a weight lifted off your shoulders. You were worried for no reason. You were more than qualified and you enjoyed your work.

You and Joel planned to sit down and discuss the plans for your bathroom remodel that evening, so you spent a majority of the rest of the afternoon researching renovation inspiration. You saved several pictures of showers, sinks, and layouts that you liked to show Joel. You were nervous to see Joel. You were normally very good with hiding your attraction for people, but something about Joel made you extra nervous. You were terrified you were going to act weird and make it painfully obvious. You sighed and stood up from your desk, deciding to take one last shower in your bathroom before it was out of service for the next couple months.

You grabbed your waterproof speaker and connected your phone to play some music as you showered. You decided to shuffle your classic rock playlist and turned the water as hot as it could go. One of your flaws was needing scorchingly hot shower water. You hummed along to “Beast of Burden” as you brushed through the tangles in your hair. Your thoughts began to run crazy as you disassociated while prepping for your shower. Your mind drifted off to Joel. You couldn’t help but wonder about his personal life. Was he seeing anyone? Has he ever been married? If so, what happened? Your thoughts were running wild as you stepped into the shower, the water almost being too hot to withstand, but it felt perfect on your skin.

The water ran off your skin, your hair soaking as you emulsified shampoo between your palms. A scenario began to play in your head. You imagined it were Joel’s large, coarse hands scrubbing the shampoo into your scalp. You closed your eyes and parted you lips as you imagined him towering over you from behind, his front touching your backside as he massaged the shampoo into your locks. The shea butter scent filled the steamy shower stall, the suds falling down the soft skin of your body. You felt a rush of arousal send a tingle down your abdomen into your core. You felt naughty having such disgusting thoughts about your dad’s best friend, but you hadn’t felt this aroused in months. You hadn’t had sex since your last high school relationship. You’d gone on a few dates in college, but none of them ever led to anything. The furthest you’d gone with anyone was a few steamy make outs at the club on the weekends when you got a little too drunk, but you never ended up taking anyone home.

You nipples began to harden under the flow of water from your shower head. Your eyes flickered up to inspect the shower head. It wasn’t detachable. You groaned in disappointment. You needed friction immediately. Your hand reached up to your breasts, softly toying with the supple flesh of your nipple. You ran gentle circles around the raised skin, pinching the mound between your fingertips. You exhaled deeply, your folds slowly begging to become coated in arousal. You squeezed your thighs together to try and relieve the discomfort. Your clit was throbbing at the crest of your folds. You slowly lowered your hand down your torso to your clitoral hood, lifting it up ever so softly to graze your sensitive bud. Your legs jolted at the sudden wash of pleasure in your lower abdomen. You carefully danced circles around the bundle of nerves. After teasing your clit for a moment, you lowered your fingers to swipe up your vulva, then teasing the soft skin around the opening of your vagina.

You inserted your index finger into your opening, curling it upwards to run over the rough skin of your g spot. You moaned softly as you began to pump your finger in and out of yourself. You added a second finger as your canal adjusted to the girth of your first finger. You couldn’t remember the last time you masturbated, so the intense pleasure was overcoming your senses exceptionally fast. You free hand moved downwards to press against the flesh of your pelvic bone, pushing your g spot further against your fingertips. You gasped as you felt the estranged feeling of your orgasm creeping up on you. The white heat of you climax was in the distance, and you moved your outer hand to run circles around your clit. The added pleasure of the clitoral stimulation sent you into pure euphoria. Your orgasm hit you suddenly, your pussy clenching around your fingers. Your eyes rolled back in your head as your climax hit you like a train, your legs losing their strength beneath you. You moaned audibly, your hand jutting out to stabilize yourself against the wall of your shower.

What you didn’t realize as you were pleasuring yourself in the shower was Joel had entered your house to meet with you about your bathroom. He’d figured you were finishing up your work day, so he took a seat on the sofa downstairs. He had texted you several minutes ago and you weren’t responding. He tapped his finger against his thigh, soon realizing he could hear the shower running upstairs. His mind drifted off to imagine how your naked body would look covered in suds and glistening from the water in the shower. He felt like a horny teenage boy. You had been infiltrating his thoughts like crazy since the day you sunbathed. Embarrassingly enough, Joel had jacked off two nights in a row over the sight of your tits and ass in that tiny bikini. He wanted nothing more than to explore your body without the obstruction of clothing. He felt vile and disgusting thinking so animalistically about you, but the infatuation was overcoming him.

Joel’s ears perked up when he heard your muffled moans coming from upstairs. His brows knitted together as he tried to decipher what he had just heard. You couldn’t be, could you? His suspicions were confirmed when he heard you moan again. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat and his mind began racing again. You were masturbating not even twenty feet away from him. He felt his pants begin to tighten, and he let out a breathy moan as he palmed himself over his jeans. He felt so dirty and desperate. He longed to bound up the stairs and join you, fucking you against the wall of your shower, your soapy breasts shoved up against the glass door. He tipped his head back and he squeezed his penis through his jeans, the tent struggling against the tight material. He could feel himself leaking into his boxers. In a quick decision, Joel pushed himself off the couch and made his way to the downstairs bathroom. He wasn’t sure how long you would take to finish your shower, but he knew he’d have to relieve himself to be able to have a normal conversation with you about this remodel.

Joel closed the bathroom door, locking it behind him. He wasted no time unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, letting them fall to his ankles. He gripped the sink with his free hand, reaching into his boxers to pull out his throbbing cock. Just as he thought, his tip was leaky and sensitive. He ran his middle finger and thumb in a tight ring around the ridge between his mushroom tip and shaft, stroking it firmly. He breathily whimpered as he gripped the counter harder, his knuckles turning white. He began to pump himself up and down, picturing your breathtaking body in that god for saken bikini again. He imagined pushing you back onto your bed in that skimpy little suit, the ties around your hips loosened. He visualized untying the strings, slipping the material off to expose your perfect pussy to him. God, and your perky tits were enough to make his length twitch in his hand. He stroked himself faster, feeling himself getting closer to release. He replayed the sweet sound of your moan in his head, the small detail being enough for his release to jump in hot spurts against his hand. He moaned as he came hard, his abdominal muscles clenching as his climax overcame his senses.

Joel took a moment to catch his breath and come down from his high before grabbing a tissue to clean up his hand and tip. He exhaled deeply as he tucked his softened length back into his boxers. He wondered if you had finished as he washed his hands with citrus scented hand soap.

You had come downstairs nearly an hour after Joel had finished. That orgasm was exactly what you needed to relax before facing Joel. Sure, you were consciously fighting the remorse after cumming on your fingers to the thought of your neighbor, but you weren’t nearly as nervous as you had been previously.

You’d gotten Joel’s text, and you internally cringed knowing that he was in the house while you were masturbating to the thought of him. You hurried down to greet him, finding him sitting on the sofa. You noticed his cheeks were more flushed than usual, but you assumed he had just been outside doing chores that day and had gotten a little too much sun.

“Hi, I’m so sorry to keep you waiting. I was in the shower and got carried away.” You apologized, sitting down adjacent to Joel. He glanced up at you with his big brown eyes, an emotion running through them that you couldn’t put a finger on.

“No worries.” Joel responded with his gruff voice. He cleared his throat. He seemed stiff, as though something was bothering him. You kept your suspicions to yourself and opened your laptop to show Joel the inspiration pictures you had saved.

“I have a few inspiration pictures for the bathroom.” You said softly, your finger dragging gently across the touchpad of your laptop to navigate to the file where you compiled several pictures of bathrooms you found online. You wouldn’t be very helpful with the actual construction of the bathroom, let alone the shopping for parts, but you had an aesthetic in mind. You turned your laptop so it would be easier for Joel to see, and scooted closer to him. Your thighs were inches apart, and Joel swallowed when he noticed he could feel the heat radiating off your bare thighs. You smelled lovely, like warm vanilla and cashmere. The smell was intoxicating and Joel longed to reach out and touch the soft skin of your leg, but he knew he couldn’t.

The first picture you showed Joel was of a bathroom with white and black checkered floors with forest green tile walls. Your favorite color had always been green, and you loved the retro feel of the checkered flooring. Joel was a very simple man when it came to designs, but he found himself loving the pictures you’d chosen. They were very much you. You swiped through the pictures, briefly explaining what you loved about each one. Joel observed each photo carefully, taking into account what stood out most to you.

“I love the gold and black accents.” Joel said at one of the pictures you showed him. You glanced up at him with a toothy grin.

“I was worried you’d hate it. But I’m so glad you agree.” You beamed, looking back towards your laptop. Seeing your smile made Joel feel warm inside. Something as simple as seeing you smile really made Joel realize the effect you had on him. His attraction was undeniable, but the realization of the situation sent a pang of disappointment through him. You were so young with so much life ahead of you. You’d never settle down for someone at his age. He couldn’t give you the typical life you deserved; he couldn’t bring you kids, and you were just starting your career. He was nearing the end of his. It would be selfish of him to ever try and hold you back from experiencing life. Joel tried his best to push away those dreadful thoughts for the time being and focus on the present. He enjoyed being around you, and he was going to make the most of it without letting his newfound feelings interfere.

“I’ll have to go to the store and scope out some materials. There’s a chance they won’t have everything we need in store and I might have to order online. If I end up ordering online, it won’t be a big deal considering I’ll have to tear out most of your bathroom first.” Joel explained. You listened attentively as he spoke, you gaze focusing on the way the lines in his face moved as he spoke. You could sit and listen to him speak for hours and not get bored.

“Do you mind if I go take a look at your bathroom and take some pictures?” He asked, leaning back to take his phone out of his front pocket. You swallowed hard as your eyes drifted to the crotch of his jeans, observing the protruding outline. You quickly looked back towards his face, but he had noticed. He decided to not address it, but he couldn’t help but feel the electricity strike through him. Maybe he was overthinking it; you were probably looking innocently to see what he was reaching for.

“Oh, yes of course. Help yourself.” You responded, closing your laptop and placing it on the coffee table in front of you. As you leaned forward, Joel’s gaze fell to watch the way your ass peeked out of the bottom of your shorts. He couldn’t help himself. He averted his eyes as you sat back up. He cursed at himself mentally when he felt his dick begin to harden in his boxers.

“Lead the way.” He said, pushing himself off the couch.

He followed you upstairs, his hand immediately falling to his crotch to adjust himself. The friction only made things worse. It didn’t help that he had a perfect view of your ass as you climbed the stairs. He could only hope you wouldn’t notice the tent in his pants once you got to the bathroom.

You lead him through your bedroom, apologizing quietly at the mess since you were still in the process of unpacking all of your belongings. Your room smelled heavenly. It smelled exactly like you and your delicious vanilla perfume. The smell itself made Joel feel weak. When you made it to the bathroom, you stepped aside to give him room to take pictures and observe what needed to be done. You took a moment to really take in his appearance. His shoulders were wide and his muscles were practically protruding through the short sleeves of his button up shirt. His jeans were tight against his muscular thighs, and even tighter against his crotch. You could’ve sworn the bulge in his pants was even larger than you’d observed downstairs, but you looked away quickly. You felt it deep in your core as you thought about the possibility of him being hard around you. You convinced yourself it was impossible.

Joel began snapping pictures of your bathroom, taking close ups of any details he found important. He opened the stall door to your shower, investigating the impurities in its design. It was definitely aged and needed repairs. It was a good thing he would need to rip out the shower entirely to remodel it to your desired design. This remodel would probably take him a couple months. He knew it would challenge his abilities, but it wasn’t anything impossible for him. He knew it was going to take extra time considering he wanted nothing but perfection for you.

“I’ll probably start tearing out the shower and sink tomorrow. I’ll need to go ahead and replace the toilet too. It’ll take me a few days to tear everything out.” Joel exhaled, taking a step back from the bathroom and peering down at you. “I’ll need to go to the store today and order some materials to make sure they’re here by next week. Would you like to come with me to pick out what you want?”

Your belly fluttered at the idea of running to the store with him. It would feel very domestic spending time with him outside of with your father and this remodel. Although it was still for the remodel, you would be able to spend time with him in public and get to know him better.

“Sure, I would love to.” You said, grinning up at him with your doe eyes.

You were close in proximity, and his musky aftershave was intoxicating. If the circumstances were different, you’d waste no time in pulling him into you and kissing him, but you couldn’t do that. You looked away to locate your purse.

“Do you want to go now? Maybe we can get something to eat on the way back?” You said, wandering over to your desk to grab your purse.

“That works.” Joel said, his voice deep and rich. He ran hand through his hair and put his phone in his pocket, replacing it with his keys in his hand.

Joel was nervous. Nervous to spend time with you outside of this project. You were wonderful and he wanted nothing more than to spend time with you, but he knew how dangerous that was for him. He feared the more time spent with you, the more he was going to become infatuated with you. But nonetheless, he led the way to his truck.

#joel x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #din djarin #pedro pascal smut #pedro x reader #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou #the mandalorian #joel miller smut #dbf!joel #tlou

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proxima-writes · 1 year

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Title: cruel summer | chapter 1

Pairing: Joel Miller/Female!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Chapters: 6/6

Read on AO3 | Join the tag list

Summary:

Joel takes a contracting job renovating a master bedroom and bathroom while the homeowners are away for the summer on a cruise.

He wasn’t expecting their twenty-three year old daughter and the thoughts he’d have about her.

Author’s note: I’m playing fast and loose with ages and timelines here. Joel is 38, reader is 23, and Sarah is 5. No mushroom apocalypse here, y’all.

Additional tags/warnings: explicit sexual content, age gap (15 years), reader is 23 and Joel is 38, he’s a lil guilty about it anyways, pet names, dirty talk, lack of aftercare, oral (f receiving), fingering, begging, angst, drying humping. Let me know if I’m missing anything!

You hear the heavy footsteps of your dad and the contractor coming up the steps to the front door. You turn from the stove, spatula in hand just as your dad comes into view with a man you’ve never seen before.

He’s tall and broad, shoulders stretching the worn flannel he’s wearing to what must be near its breaking point. He’s got a strong nose and sharp jaw highlighted by his tan skin. His hair is brown that’s streaked with gray, messy curls sticking up in all directions.

Woah, you think. Your eyes meet warm brown ones that make your knees feel a little unsteady.

Your dad gives the man your name followed by, “My daughter. She’s home for the summer while she studies for the MCAT. I hope that’s not a problem that she’ll be here?”

“Not a problem for me. Noise might bother you, though, if you’re tryin’ to study,” the man says, deep voice making your mouth go a little dry. He holds a hand out to you. “I’m Joel, by the way. I’m doin’ the remodel on your parent’s room.”

That’s right. Your dad had mentioned that your mom had finally broken him down and made him get a contractor out to update their master bath. They scheduled it while they’re away on a six week cruise, leaving you to house sit while you studied for your exam.

“It won’t bother me,” you reply, shaking his hand. They’re calloused and warm and just the brief contact is enough to have you wondering what they would feel like trailing over other parts of your body. “I’ve got noise canceling headphones.”

He smiles, but it’s short lived. He sniffs the air, brows pinching together. “Is something burning?”

“Shit! My eggs!” You turn back to the stove and shut the burner off, moving the pan off the heat and trying to scrape your now burnt scrambled eggs from the surface.

“Come on, Joel, let me show you upstairs.”

________

Joel returns to the house a few times that week to take measurements and talk materials with your mom. Each time you’re there in the kitchen, books spread around you at the dining table and your head bobbing to music he can’t hear.

He can’t help the way his eyes linger when he comes inside, stomping his work boots against the mat inside the doorway as a courtesy and, if he’s honest with himself, to get your attention. And every time you glance up and smile at him, bright and beautiful.

As soon as he’s back upstairs and remembers he has a job to do, he berates himself for the thoughts he has. He has no goddamn right to be looking at a client’s daughter, much less one as young as you.

His presence in the house is sparing over the first couple weeks of the job, mostly just dropping by for measurements and to get an idea of a plan for demo day. He’s got orders in on tile placed, fixtures picked out, paint purchased. Everything’s in place to get started next week.

Satisfied, he heads downstairs to leave. He both hopes you’re in the kitchen and prays you’re not, if only to ease his guilty conscience.

But there you are, bent over in front of the fridge in shorts that hug your ass a bit too well. You straighten up with a can of beer in your hand, popping the tab and taking a sip.

“You even old enough to drink that?” Joel can’t help but ask, lingering in the doorway.

“I bought it. Why, you wanna see my ID? You moonlight as a cop or somethin’?” You roll your eyes.

Brat, Joel thinks, rolling his lips together. He turns to leave, he’s made enough of a fool of himself for one day.

“I’m twenty-three, in case you were wondering!” You call out as the door shuts behind him.

Fuck.

________

Joel’s been upstairs since early this morning, smashing things with a sledge hammer, prying things with a crowbar, and all sorts of other destruction that filters through your headphones.

It’s almost noon when you decide to give up and give into the temptation to go see what the man is doing. You head upstairs, stepping carefully into your parents room. There’s plastic tarp leading from the door of the bedroom to the door of the bathroom that crinkles beneath your feet as you move further inside.

You peek beyond the doorway of the bathroom and clutch the frame almost painfully when you catch a glimpse of a rather sweaty Joel, white t-shirt sticking to his chest and back as he wiggles a crowbar between the wall and vanity, leveraging his body weight against it to get the fixture to detach from the wall.

He repeats the process a few more times until the vanity is completely removed. He tosses the crowbar to the side and wipes the back of his hand across his dusty forehead. You clear your throat, his eyes shooting to the mirror to meet yours.

“Hey, uh. Hi. I’m about to make something for lunch…did you want anything?” You ask. His chest moves rapidly with his labored breathing.

“Sure,” he finally says.

_______

He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be sitting at the kitchen table, watching you move around the kitchen like a picture of domesticity as you make two ham and turkey sandwiches for lunch.

You set the plate in front of him, along with a cold can of Coke, before sitting across from him with your own matching meal. He takes a bite, humming in satisfaction.

“Thank you,” he says when he’s swallowed. You nod, picking up your own sandwich and digging in.

The two of you eat in silence for a few minutes. Joel lets his eyes wander over you while you’re focused on your food. You’ve got a University of Texas tank top on, white with an orange Longhorn stretched across your chest, and another pair of shorts, giving him an eyeful of your long, smooth legs.

Tearing his eyes from you, his gaze lands on the stack of books on the table. “So, the MCAT. Must mean you’re pretty smart.”

“Not to brag, but I did finish organic chemistry without crying,” you reply, lips tilted in a smug grin. “I’m taking it at the end of August, before senior year starts. Dad said I didn’t have to get a summer job if I moved home and saved him some rent money.”

“What kind of doctor are you lookin’ to become?”

“Pediatrician. I love kids.”

Joel’s heart rate kicks up as he thinks about you chasing a toddler around a manicured lawn surrounded by a white picket fence. Or in the kitchen with a baby on your hip.

Jesus Christ. What the fuck is wrong with him?

“Joel?” You ask, breaking through his mental flagellation.

“Hm?”

“I asked if you have any kids,” you repeat.

He can feel his face go soft. “Yeah, Sarah. She just turned five. She starts kindergarten at the end of the summer.”

“How sweet,” you say. “I bet you and your wife are excited about that.”

“There’s, uh…there’s no wife,” Joel replies, clearing his throat uncomfortably. He stands, taking this empty plate to the dishwasher. “I better get back to work.”

Joel feels the weight of your stare on his back as he heads upstairs.

________

It goes on like that for two weeks. Joel gets to the house early and you study at the kitchen table until lunch time, when you ask him if he wants anything to eat. He should say no. It’s not your job to feed him, he’s got a stash of granola bars that’ll do just fine.

But each time he sees your hopeful doe eyed expression, his resolve crumbles to dust.

So he sits at the table each day, eating the sandwich you made him and drinking the Coke you gave him, learning tidbits of information about you.

Like how you weren’t sure about pursuing medicine at first, so you’re a bit behind schedule in taking your studies and will be graduating late. You changed your degree path when you volunteered in the pediatric oncology service at the medical school, sitting with young kids undergoing chemotherapy and making their days brighter. Your last roommate had a cat that always hid your keys, but you still liked him anyways. How your favorite color is yellow.

He tells you about Sarah. About how her mom left not long after she was born and how he’s gone at this parenting thing alone, save for the support of his brother, Tommy. He tells you about how only finished a semester in community college before dropping out to pursue construction. His favorite drink is whiskey, neat, and his favorite color is red.

One day, you’re not at the table when he lets himself into the house with the key your dad made for him. He finds he’s disappointed, not starting his day with your smile.

Upstairs, he’s working on laying the mud for the shower pan when he hears a splash from outside. He peeks out the window of the bedroom that overlooks the backyard.

His mouth goes dry and his pants get uncomfortably tight as he watches you lift yourself from the pool. You’ve got on the skimpiest red bikini he’s ever seen, the top barely containing your tits and doing nothing to hide the hard peaks of your nipples. You wring your hair out over your shoulder before moving to lay down on a nearby lounger. Your body glistens with drops of water that Joel wants to chase with his tongue.

You turn over on your stomach and Joel bites back a groan, greedily committing the view of your ass to memory. Jesus Christ, he’s never felt like a dirty old man more than in this moment.

He returns to his task and tries to chase his lustful thoughts away with manual labor.

_______

You can see him watching you from the window. Your sunglasses keep your own gaze hidden as you revel in the undivided attention of the man you’d been drooling over the last few weeks. You’d put on your tiniest bikini for the occasion, laying yourself out on the lounge like a meal you’d like him to dig into.

He stood there for a few minutes and you could practically hear his teeth cracking from how tense his jaw was. You could tell Joel really struggled with his attraction to you. He’s staring down the barrel of a fifteen year age gap, after all.

You didn’t see an issue with it. You’re an adult, he’s not abusing any sort of position of power, hell, all the man has done is check you out. He hasn’t even touched you. You don’t want him to feel guilty about being attracted to you because god knows you don’t feel guilty for wanting to climb him like a tree.

You don’t bother with a towel or changing when you go upstairs to tell Joel lunch is ready. When he sees you in the doorway he freezes, and you bite back at a laugh at the look of surprise on his face.

“Lunch is ready,” you tell him.

He clears his throat. “I uh…I think I’ll just eat a protein bar. Thank you, though.”

Your bottom lip pops out in a pout. “But I made pasta salad.”

“I got a lot to do,” he tries again. His jaw keeps clenching, his hand wrapping tightly around the tool he’s holding like he’s hoping it’ll anchor him in place.

“Please, Joel?”

That gets him. He sighs, standing with a groan.

“Fine.”

________

This was a bad idea. He should have held strong and insisted he’d eat by himself today.

You’re still in that goddamn bikini and he is fighting for his life sitting at the table as he watches you plate up pasta salad. Usually you would drink a Coke with lunch but today he’s surprised to see you pouring a glass of wine.

“It’s my day off from studying,” you say as you take your seat across from him, sipping from the glass. “I think I deserve a little treat. Don’t you?”

He has to be imagining the double meaning of your words. He gives you a tight nod in response before focusing all his energy in eating his pasta and avoiding your gaze.

“You okay, Joel?” you ask. Your sweet face is pinched in concern and goddamnit, Joel can’t take this.

“Fine,” he grunts. You give him another pout, the same one that broke his resolve upstairs.

You finish before him, sticking your bowl in the sink before picking up your wine glass from the table and refilling it. Instead of taking a seat, you lean your barely clothed hip against the table in front of him.

“You seem tense,” you comment. Joel swallows roughly, throat dry. You set your glass down and take a step closer.

“What are you doin’?” He asks, voice rough and low. He can barely breathe. This can’t possibly be happening.

You plant your hands on his shoulders for balance as you slide onto his lap, legs on either side of his waist and pussy dragging across his hard cock. He hisses, hands grabbing onto your waist before he can stop himself.

“Darlin’, you can’t be doin’ this,” he says, voice strained. “We can’t be doin’ this.”

“Why not? I see the way you look at me. I’ve been lookin’ the same way.”

“You’re young, baby. Too young for an old man like me.”

You loop your arms around his neck, pressing your chest to his and fuck, he can feel your tight little nipples as your tits press against him. “‘M not too young,” you murmur, dipping your head to mouth at his neck. His fingers flex against your ribs. “You’re not doin’ anything wrong, Joel.”

His head drops back as you keep pressing sweet little kisses to the stubbled skin. His hips flex beneath you and you gasp, arms tightening around him.

Joel is so fucked. So, so fucked. Has been from the moment he stepped into this goddamn house and saw you sitting at this very table.

Maybe…maybe just one time. One time should be enough, get it out of your systems, cut through the tension and move on.

You’re whimpering against his neck, squirming over his lap as his hands drag up your waist until his fingers find the edge of one of the pathetic triangles covering your breasts. He can feel your breath hitch as he pulls it to the side, exposing your tight little nipple to the cold air.

“God, baby,” he groans, dipping his head forward to wrap his lips around the little bud. You moan so loud and wanton as he licks you that he knows he’s fucking done for.

He digs his fingers into your still damp hair, tugging your head back so that he can finally drag your mouth to his. You taste like wine and sunshine and he’s never been much of a wine guy, but from your tongue he’ll taste anything.

You open up to him so sweetly, your hands clutching his shoulders and your hips moving against his painfully hard cock as he devours you, dragging his own hands over all that exposed skin like it’ll disappear if he doesn’t touch you everywhere at least once.

It’s still not nearly enough.

He stands and you squeak in surprise as he sits you on the edge of the table. “Holy shit,” you mutter. He glances at your face to make sure you’re okay.

Your hair is messy from his hands and lips swollen from his kisses, eyes wide and dark as you stare back at him. Your top is half off, and Joel can’t help but reach out and tug the other cup down to expose your other breast.

“Pretty as a goddamn picture, darlin’,” he murmurs. He presses a hand to your chest, urging you to lie back.

“You think I’m pretty?” You ask. He huffs a laugh.

“Don’t be a brat, fishin’ for compliments,” he admonishes. He plucks at the strings holding those little bottoms in place, the bows falling loose so that he can push the material aside. “Look at this pretty fuckin’ pussy. You’re drenched, baby.”

“Been like this every day,” you reply, voice all breathy as you squirm beneath his rapt attention.

“That right?” He asks, dragging his thumb through your wet folds. You moan, hips jumping from the table. He kneels, placing one arm around over your hips as he presses your legs apart with his free hand, spreading you for him.

You’re breathing so fast he’s almost worried you might pass out. “Shhh, pretty thing, let me take care of you.”

He licks a broad stripe over your core, his tongue swirling around your aching clit before dipping back down to your entrance. You fight against his hold, hips trying in vain to chase his mouth.

“Oh, god,” you cry out. Your hands find their way to his head, fingers scratching against his scalp as he feasts on your cunt. “Joel, more, please!”

He keeps his arm tight against you and uses his other hand to slip one finger into your wet heat, groaning at how tight you are. His tongue focuses on your clit while he slowly strokes his finger in and out, adding a second then a third when you start babbling about more more more.

“Fuck me, Joel, please,” you beg. He shakes his head against your cunt, the scrape of his beard against your sensitive flesh making you scream. “Please!”

He stands, continuing to stroke his fingers inside you as he uses his thumb on your clit to replace his tongue. “Can’t, baby girl, I don’t have a condom with me.”

“I’m clean, I’m on the pill, please, Joel, I need your cock so bad,” you plead. Joel groans. He’s already crossed a line but he can’t go there. He knows damn well that if he feels you clenching around him with nothing between your bodies, screaming his name as he pounds inside of you, he won’t ever leave.

“No, sweetheart, you’re going to come on my hand and my mouth or you’re not going to come at all,” he snaps, hand moving faster, curling against your front wall.

_______

Tears slip from the corners of your eyes as Joel continues to drive you higher and higher toward release, your muscles tightening painfully as his fingers curl inside you and his thumb circles your clit.

You don’t know what you expected from all this, but Joel Miller dirty talking and finger fucking you on your kitchen table was not on your deduction bingo card. He’s better than anything your brain has conjured up thus far and you just know this one time isn’t going to be enough to sate you, especially since he keeps calling you “good girl” and “darlin’” and “sweetheart” in his rough southern accent.

You want him to fuck you so bad, you’re desperate for it. But he’s staunchly refusing to cross that line despite the hundreds that have been crossed already.

You try to hold back your orgasm, not wanting this to end, but it crashes over you anyways, leaving you breathless and sobbing his name as his hand slows its pace.

Joel’s fingers slip from your body and he leans forward, pressing them to your lips. You open your mouth, licking and sucking at his offering.

“Goddamnit,” he groans. “That was gorgeous.”

You sit up, supporting yourself on shaky arms. He steps back, but you hook a leg around his waist to stop him.

“Wait, let me—“

“No, baby, I’m good,” he says, cutting you off and dodging your hands. “I gotta get back to work.”

You can feel your high leave you in an instant. “Oh…okay.”

“Thank you for…lunch,” he says awkwardly. “I’ll be upstairs. If you need me.”

You don’t say anything as he turns to leave.

————

Upstairs in the bathroom, the one not being remodeled that he presumes is yours due to the messy countertop and fluffy yellow towels, Joel takes his cock from his pants and fists his length, grip almost painful as payment for his transgressions.

He cums with the thought of your eyes screwed shut in ecstasy, shouting his name as you clenched around his fingers. Your name is on his lips in the softest whisper he can manage as he cums, hard and hot, into a tissue.

He slumps against the wall, breathless. And while he may have come faster than a teenager, he doesn’t feel an ounce of relief.

Fuck.

#joel x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel is daddy #age difference #no minors allowed #no outbreak #tlou

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 10 months

Text

Heaven is a place on earth

Summary: With Joel being out on Patrol you decided to take a long relaxing bath in the bathtub Joel had installed for you. Once Joel came back home, he wanted to join the fun, not even taking off his clothes before getting to you in the tub.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2.4k

Rating: E

Warnings: established relationship, smut (unprotected bath tub sex), teasing, fluff, dumb humour, the Queen Celine Dion (not in person, just in music)

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You were alone in the house.

Something you still had to get used to.

Joel was out on patrol and Ellie had officially moved out (she had turned nineteen earlier this year) and in with her girlfriend. Joel might have teared up once she really had picked all her stuff up and moved it. Yes, it was just across the street but still.

You made sure to show him all the benefits of not having a teenager living under the same roof and while he still missed her, he loved to have his way with you wherever he wanted.

Coming to Jackson was pure luck for you.

You had arrived in town just before Joel and Ellie. And by arrived you meant Tommy had found you unconscious and starving close to death while he was out on patrol. It had taken a month until you had been released from the clinic in Jackson.

It was almost scary how normal life in Jackson was. Sometimes it still overwhelmed you when you took a hot shower and then went into your warm bed.

Life got even better when you and Joel got together. Which… did take almost a year with both of you being too damn stubborn to admit and commit to your feelings but since then?

He was the best thing that had happened to you and you could not wait to spend the rest of your life with him.

Tonight you treated yourself to a hot bath. The bathtub had been a gift to you for your last birthday from Joel. It was a freestanding vintage bathtub with iron claws that made you feel like a princess every time you had the time to take a bath.

You had mentioned to him how your favorite thing to do pre outbreak was taking a long hot bath in the tiny tub you had in your apartment back then. You would light candles and turn on music and just relax.

You still did not know where he found it but you were forever grateful.

Carrying the tub up in the bathroom had apparently taken the strength of six men. Not that you would know. You were out on a run to get some ingredients from a trader Jackson had made connections with for two days together with Ellie while it had been installed in the home you shared with Joel.

You had found out that both you and Joel fit into the tub when you thanked him thoroughly for his gift when you were back.

Smiling, you took off your clothes in your bedroom, putting on the pink robe that Joel told you had come with the house when he moved in.

For the first time you had made bath bombs today and intended to test them.

Two years ago you had been allowed to open a tiny drugstore section in the general trade store of Jackson where you offered your handmade creams and soaps and everything else you could manage to make.

Before the outbreak it had been a hobby to make your own and gift it to family and friends. Now it was a little luxury you brought back to Jackson.

Your whole garden was filled with herbs and fruit and every flower that smelled good you could use to make your products. You even sold some to your neighbor who used lavender and rosemary to make scented candles with his own harvested beeswax.

You lit one of these candles when you got to the bathroom.

After the bathtub had been installed you had spent a month renovating the bathroom with the help of Joel and Ellie. The walls were now painted in a light blue, the floors tiled with dark gray tiles Joel had found in the basement of the house.

You turned the water on, your fingers checking the temperature until it was just right before you went downstairs. Opening one of the cabinets in the kitchen you took out the single wine glass you owned and then poured some of the first edition of Jackson’s red wine that had successfully been made. You inhaled the rich scent with a small smile before you grabbed the glass and the little basket with the bath bombs you had made and walked back up.

The tub was halfway full when you were back upstairs. You set your wine glass down on the chair next to the tub and you grabbed one of the bathbombs, the lavender one and put it in the tub, watching as it slowly dissolved, the calming scent of lavender filling your nose.

Humming with a small smile and satisfied that it worked, you turned around to take your bathrobe off. You put it on the sink before you walked towards the shelf next to the window across the tub to turn on the radio. It was solar powered and had a cassette deck. You pressed play and the cassette inside played Celine Dion. The tape had been stuck in there ever since you got here and by now it was a running joke.

It made you wonder if Celine had survived the outbreak and if so, what she was doing.

More than once you caught Joel singing along to “Because you loved me”, the song the radio played now, while getting ready in the morning and you failed every single time to not tease him about it, mostly because he would deny doing it in the first place.

You shut the water off, dipping your toes into the tub to check the temperature. Nodding to yourself you carefully got into the tub and slowly sat down, releasing a content moan as the warm water enveloped your body.

Taking a deep breath you closed your eyes as you leaned your head on the edge of the tub.

This was as close as you could get to heaven if there was one.

Humming along to the song you reached for your wine glass, taking a long sip.

You could almost pretend the outbreak never happened in times like these. You had spent many evenings like this before the outbreak. You had just turned 28 when it happened. Sometimes you still asked yourself how you made it this far, having spent years in absolute fear of what was happening around you.

You hadn’t even watched horror movies before the outbreak, too scared to go to sleep after.

So yeah, the first time you saw someone infected you fainted (and you were not too proud to admit that), the only reason you survived had been your father.

You were halfway through the wine glass, Celine singing about the Power of love when you heard the door downstairs open. You heard heavy footsteps and a long groan before Joel called for you.

“In the tub!” you called back, setting your wine glass down.

It took a minute until he appeared in the door to the bathroom, having taken his shoes off and his flannel unbuttoned, the former white shirt he was wearing now almost gray from the dust and dirt from being outside all day.

A smirk came to his face.

“Enjoyin’ yourself, darlin’?” he asked. You nodded with a dreamy smile, tilting your head to look up at him.

“Patrol okay?” you asked. He nodded.

“Found you some eucalyptus. Brought back a tiny plant that was growing next to the tree. We can plant it tomorrow,” he walked over to you, bending down to kiss you softly. You smiled against his lips.

“You did? Where?"

He grabbed the wine glass, taking a sip.

“New route on the west border. Might explore the town over some more now that it’s free of infected,” he said, setting the glass back down. Groaning he got down on his knees, his arms on the edge of the tub, leaning close to you.

“You smell good,” he hummed.

“Made some bathbombs today for the first time. Had to test them,” you said all serious and he chuckled.

“Should have come home earlier, could have tested them together,” he kissed your nose.

“You look tired,” you said, reaching your hand over, your fingers brushing over his hair and he closed his eyes, nodding.

“Was ready to fall to bed immediately before I got here. But then I saw you…”

“That filthy?” you asked, seemingly shocked. He chuckled.

“I remember you liking me all filthy,” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“I do love you all filthy,” you winked and he nodded.

“I do love you squeaky clean too, though,” you said and he tilted his head, considering your words. The song in the background changed again while he pulled himself up from the floor with a long groan.

You raised your left eyebrow, watching him, as he pulled his shirt off.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

He did not say anything, taking his socks off with the patience of a saint before he looked at you with a glint in his eye. You cried his name, laughing loudly when he put his feet into the tub, still wearing his jeans and shirt, before he knelt down.

“You gonna flood the bathroom,” you giggled, making room for him.

“Don’t care,” he mumbled, clothes now drenched, his hands on the edge of the tub as he let himself sink down on top of you, finding your lips in a sloppy kiss.

You laughed against his lips, opening your arms to push your hands into his hair. He parted from you, pulling his shirt off, throwing it on the floor, revealing inch after inch of his gloriously tanned skin (thanks to working shirtless in the garden with you).

He looked at you with dark eyes as he worked his pants open.

“Fucking hell,” he cursed with a laugh, trying to push the denim down his legs. You giggled, sitting yourself up to help him.

“You take your socks and shirt off and not your pants?”

“Wasn’t thinking clearly,” he chuckled.

“Clearly,” you teased.

It was a struggle but you both got it off of him, letting it flop down on the flooded bathroom floor. You parted your legs as he let himself slowly fall against your chest again, hooking your legs around his back as he kissed you again.

“Want you,” he mumbled and you sighed, parting your lips in a silent cry as he kissed himself down your neck.

“Sit back,” you moaned, following him to sit in his lap as he sat down, your arms wrapping around his back as you kissed him again. One of his hands was on your back, pushing your upper body against his, the other on your ass, groping and kneading your skin. Slowly you rolled your hips, his cock already hard beneath you while you made out with him.

“Wanna fuck you, Joel,” you mumbled against his lips. He kissed down your jaw.

“You ready for me?” he asked, sucking on the soft skin beneath your ear, making you tremble.

“Always ready for you,” you whispered. You reached into the water between your bodies, wrapping your hand around his cock, pumping him slowly. He moaned against your ear.

“Won’t last long,” he warned as you moved your hips to line him up against you.

“That’s okay. Just wanna make you feel good,” you said and he looked at you while you slowly let yourself sink down on him. Taking every inch of his cock.

There was a little pain as you got used to him inside of you. Usually Joel would take his time with you to prepare you for him, going down on you and making you cum at least once before he gave you his cock.

But you wanted him. Wanted to be close to him, to have him inside of you. You’d take being a little sore after, to have this moment with him now.

“Always feel so fucking perfect,” he kissed you softly. “Made for me,” he hummed.

You just let yourself sit on him for a couple minutes, enjoying the closeness while Joel showered your skin with kisses.

Slowly you began to move your hips.

You both moaned as you pushed yourself up, your hands coming to rest on the edge of the tub as you arched your back. Joel used this chance to bring his hands up to your tits, squeezing them in his big hands.

You rode him slowly, the water moving beside you and splashing outside the tub but you couldn’t care less.

“Fuck,” he moaned and one of his hands ran down your torso until his fingers were on your clit, rubbing quick circles.

“Think you can cum like this?” he asked.

You hummed, not really knowing if you could as you closed your eyes, riding him harder. This was about him, you didn’t care if you came. He began to thrust up into you and you moaned.

“Keep doing that,” you moaned.

“Gonna cum, fuck,” he groaned, continuing to rub your clit.

You felt him pulse inside of you as he came.

He kept thrusting up into you, his lips closing around one of your nipples and then he sucked.

“Fuck,” you cried out, surprised as your orgasm washed over you.

His lips released your nipple and his arms came around you, pulling you close against him, his face nuzzled against your neck, his lips against your skin.

“Not gonna clean the floors,” you mumbled tiredly and he laughed.

“I will, don’t you worry, honey.”

You were resting against his chest, his arms around you. The glass of wine was almost empty and you couldn’t remember the last time you were this relaxed and happy.

The water was getting cold and you’d soon have to leave this little piece of heaven.

That’s when you noticed “My heart will go on” playing on your radio and you began to chuckle.

“What’s going on?” Joel mumbled against your ear.

“Just find it funny that the Titanic song comes after you sank your little ships into the ocean,” you said.

He did not react.

“You know when you came inside of me?”

He still didn’t say anything.

“I’m the ocean and your cum are the little….”

“Please stop talking,” he interrupted you, groaning, his chest shaking beneath you as he chuckled.

“You love it,” you grinned, turning your head back so you could look at him.

“I do,” he said, a soft smile on his lips before he kissed you.

#my fic #Joel Miller #Joel Miller x fem. reader #Pedro Pascal #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #tlou #tlou fanficion

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septembersums · 2 years

Text

𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒕𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝑫𝒂𝒚 11 | 𝑩𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑

pairing: gojo satoru x reader

summary: you’re learning the well-deserved aches and pains of moving in with gojo satoru. he’s learning that he likes your domesticity, maybe a little too much.

an:: i haven’t written a domestic or nice gojo in agessssss but today is the day to start apparently! also dear god all of my fics are going to have a breeding kink thing please just accept that for what it is

House hunting with anyone is difficult, but house hunting with Gojo Satoru was an entirely different beast that you never realized you'd have to deal with. A six eyed one, who is hellbent on spending a small fortune on a house for two people.

"What about this one?" He asks, turning his phone screen over to you.

On the screen is a listing for a goddamn mansion. 8,000 square feet, three stories, eleven bathrooms, a movie theater, an arcade, the list goes on. It looks like a celebrity home for a family of about... fifteen people.

You give him a concerned glance, "Satoru, that house has thirteen bedrooms."

"Yeah," he answers, confirming it enthusiastically, "and a pool."

You resist the urge to laugh, "Let me rephrase... Why would we, as two people, need a house with thirteen bedrooms? Babe, that's basically a hotel."

"What if we have twelve kids?" He asks, giving you a serious expression, even though a smirk threatens to tug at the corners of his lips.

"We are not."

He continues, cutting you off, "God forbid Satoru the eleventh and Satoru the twelfth have to share a bedroom. They'll kill each other."

"No. Okay," you sigh closing your eyes, "I love your enthusiasm, but I'm not playing the hypothetical game with you because it never ends, and--"

He cuts you off with a kiss, chuckling against your lips. His arms encircle your waist, pushing you down onto the couch beneath him as he shifts himself on top of you.

"I don't know why you wanna raise our fourteen kids in a shoebox--" he says, kissing your neck between his words.

"Fourteen now?" You ask with a gasp.

"Fifteen. But okay, I'll look at regular houses, too," he concedes, running his hands up underneath your shirt, "not tonight, though. God, scaring you gets me hard."

"What a concerning thing to say-- ah!"

He's already snuck his hand into your pants before you can argue, and as per usual, neither of you picked a house that night.

Eventually, you were able to talk him down to something slightly more modest, more fit for the two of you (and just the two of you, not the fourteen or fifteen babies he proposed you have).

It’s not that you hated any of the mansions that he offered to buy, it’s just that you’d like your home to feel a little more homey, a little less easy to get lost in.

When you bought your house in the city (still extravagant, of course), and wanted to repaint a couple of the rooms, Satoru already had professional painters on speed dial. When you suggested that the two of you do some of the renovations yourself, he looked at you like you’d shot him in the chest.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” you say, “this place needs some character, and I’d be embarrassed if a bunch of strangers saw the sex swing.”

It does need character. Right now, it looks like you bought it right out of a better homes magazine. You feel weird when things are too pristine and too manicured, like you’re living in a model home.

Having a team of professional renovators moving in and out of the house for the next few weeks seems less than ideal, too, considering that you and Satoru tend to fuck like rabbits day and night.

“I can’t think of anything less fun than manual labor,” Satoru argues, wrapping his arms around your waist, “and if they ask about the sex swing, I’ll just tell them you put me in it when I’m getting on your nerves.”

“Oh, really? Why don’t you go get in it now then?”

His grin widens, “You mean it?”

You elbow him gently, furrowing your brows before continuing what you were doing before he intervened to bug you. You’re holding up two different paint swatches against the wall of your bedroom, unable to decide which looks better.

“Which one do you like more?” You ask Satoru, whose chin is propped on your shoulder.

He hesitates for a second, “... Those are exactly the same color.”

“Huh?” You gasp, turning your head to look at him, “What do you mean? They’re, like, two shades different.”

They’re both close to white, but slightly different shades of white. One is more cool toned, the other is slightly warmer. You picked them out at the store earlier, so you’re sure that they aren’t the same.

“Baby,” he hums, wrapping his hands over yours, “not to pull rank here, but one of us has the best eyes in the world,” he pries your thumbs away from the bottoms of the slips of colored paper, “and the other one has been trying to choose between moonlight white and moonlight white for half an hour.”

You audibly gasp when you realize that he’s right. Printed at the bottom of the slips of paper is exactly the same name, twice. Your eyes must be playing tricks on you, because you could’ve sworn you were looking at two different shades this entire time.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” You rasp, dumbfounded, “and... how did I not notice?”

“I thought you just needed to see it twice for some reason,” he replies with a shrug, laughing, “it’s been a long day, let’s just go to bed.”

You concede after that, seeing as it’s already past midnight, and standing here clearly isn’t doing you anymore favors than riding him in your new bed would.

The next day, you start painting a couple of the rooms together. And while Satoru eventually agreed that he was willing it give it a try, that never meant that he wouldn’t whine the entire time. Which he does, because of course he does.

Satoru is many things: he’s the strongest sorcerer in the world, he’s the (self-proclaimed) best teacher in the world, he’s also hilariously fucking bad at housework.

It makes sense that he wouldn’t really know how to fix a sink, or paint a wall, or hook up a t.v. His childhood was spent surrounded by servants, while he spent his time outside training, and fighting, and training, and fighting.

Put him in the ring with the greatest martial artist of all time, he’d win. Put a paint roller in his hand, and he just squints at it for a good thirty seconds before handing it back to you.

He doesn’t know how to be domestic, and at this point, he’s afraid to learn. But he’ll do it for you-- at the very least, he’ll give it a try for you.

Letting you call the shots right now is the least he could do, after making you wait ages for real commitment from him, after getting panicky and distant when you spent the night for the first time, after you’ve loved and taken care of all of the jagged parts of him that are so incredibly, irreparably broken.

Maybe it’s out of some fear that he’ll eventually lose you, too. Maybe that’s why he tries all these normal, domestic things with you that would never cross his mind if you were anyone else. Maybe that’s why he wanted to buy you a fucking mansion in the hills, or a castle with a moat in Scotland.

If it would make you happy, he’d do it. Anything and everything, all for you.

But painting a wall that’s already off-white to moonlight white? It’s so insufferably boring that he contemplates tearing all of his hair out and mixing it into the paint, so that he’d at least have something stimulating to do.

The only thing he likes about this task is that he can hear you humming to yourself in the other room, some song that he barely recognizes. You’ve played it in the car before, but he can’t remember the name.

Frankly, that’s where the majority of his mental energy is going right now, not towards these tedious up and down strokes, because you said that side to side strokes were wrong for some reason.

He floats down from the corner of the room where he’s been levitating for the past twenty minutes, finishing up a corner, and when he looks at the little tray on the ground, he gets an idea that you’ll (probably) hate.

You’re lost in thought, daydreaming about how the kitchen would look with new countertops, when Satoru seems to appear out of nowhere, looming over your shoulder and blocking the light from above.

“Fuck! Oh my god, you walk so quietly,” you hiss, after looking over your shoulder and noticing him.

“You missed a few spots,” he hums thoughtfully, looking over your work.

Your eyes shift back toward the wall, now searching desperately for missed sections. Certainly, he can see them better than you can, but you don’t recall missing anything yet.

“Where-- Oh, what the fuck!” You hiss, as his big hands grip your asscheeks underneath your shorts while you were focused elsewhere.

That wouldn’t normally be a problem, because of course Gojo cannot keep his hands to himself, but they’re wet and cold.

He laughs at your screech, you whip around to look at him, “is that paint? Why?!”

“Painting is so fucking boring,” he complains, smirking at your protest, “getting to put handprints on your ass is my reparation.”

And then he takes his (indeed, paint-covered) hands, and pulls you against his chest, again holding your ass as he does so.

“Gojo, you have some paint on you,” you murmur, trying to hold back a grin, as you swipe your own painted thumb along his cheek.

“Oh, really? Do I?” He asks sarcastically, smirking as he backs you up until your back hits the wet wall that you were just working on.

You gasp, as the cold liquid seeps through your shirt and gets into your hair, and he only leans down to kiss you smoothly. In spite of yourself, you kiss him back, not fighting as much as you should when he hoists you up by the backs of your thighs, wrapping them around his waist.

“I just-- ah-- finished that wall,” you breathe between frenzied kisses.

He’s grinding his hardening length against your core, tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth, “Do you wanna finish on it, too?”

“Shower-- oh, god, fuck--” you hiss, as he takes to sucking at the skin of your throat and pulling your shirt up and over your head, “so you can touch me without getting paint in my--”

“Say less,” he rasps, before warping rather than walking to the master bathroom.

He sits your ass on the sink, using his infinity to turn the water on while he undresses the both of you hastily, still kissing you with desperate need to be inside of you.

When his cock springs free from his briefs and slaps against his abs, you start stroking him in your palm, listening to the stuttering gasp that escapes his lips when you run your thumb over the sensitive tip.

You lean down to kiss his neck, his clavicles, his chest, as you leisurely stroke him in your palm, and he kneads the fat of your ass. Your run the flat side of your tongue over the scar that extends down the center of his chest-- it always makes him shiver when you do that.

He’s picking you back up before you can make it to his cock, practically throwing you into the shower with anticipation.

There’s a bench in the shower, big enough for you to comfortably sit on, and Satoru all but pushes you down onto it, “Open,” he demands, tapping his cock against your lips once.

“Are you desperate today, Satoru-- oh--”

You try to tease him, but as an opportunist, he just takes the momentary openness of your mouth as a chance to slip inside of it, moaning with relief when you run your tongue along the underside of the head.

“Just fucking suck it for a second, baby,” he rasps, threading one hand into your hair as the other is pressed flat against the wall where he braces himself, “just suck it-- just like that, just like that-- god, you’re so good.”

The muscles of his thighs twitch, betraying his desire to thrust his hips forward and make you take the rest of it down your throat. He’s so long that it’s difficult-- if not impossible-- to do so. Especially on a day like today where he’s so obviously need and excited, and he’s harder and thicker than usual.

You swallow around his length, looking up at him sweetly as you bob your head up and down him.

“Let me fuck your face,” he asks hoarsely, looking down at you for permission as his hips involuntarily flex forward, “just for a second, you can do it for a second. You can take it, baby, you can take it.”

You aren’t so sure, as tears are already welling up in your eyes, but you do as he asks anyway, hollowing your cheeks and relaxing your throat as much as possible. He starts thrusting, really thrusting, and holding your head down until it’s at the base of his cock, while he fucks into your throat and moans wantonly.

“Fuck, fuck, you’re gonna make me-- god, you’re gonna make me cum,” he warns, before pulling out of your mouth abruptly.

You close your eyes and open your mouth, you stick your tongue out and wait for the couple of seconds that it takes, because you know Satoru, and you know that there’s almost nothing he loves more than cumming all over your face.

“Oh--oh--ooh,” he moans, holding your tongue out of your mouth even further with his thumb, as he cums onto it, “oh, good girl, good girl.”

He hits your face, too, before eventually just grinding the underside of his tongue through the puddle of cum in your mouth. He feeds it back to you slowly, murmuring praises as he watches you swallow it all down.

“Pretty baby,” he purrs, as he cleans your face off before kneeling down to kiss you and taste himself, “now let me clean you up and make you cum really hard, yeah?”

He kisses the entirety of your face, from your forehead to your cheeks to your chin, as though he’s saying thank you for letting him wreck your throat. And he does exactly as promised.

He cleans every part of your body slowly and reverently, partly because he wants to show his appreciation for you, and mostly because he can see the way your thighs are squeezing together, and you’re dying for him to just lick you already.

He licks you, though not in the spot that you need him to. No, he licks and kisses your earlobes, your neck, the inside of your mouth, your shoulders and arms and hands. he kisses your chest, between your tits, the underside of your breasts-- he kisses a line down the center of your stomach, even though it tickles.

When he reaches the bottom, your legs spread involuntarily, and you push your hips outwards. Satoru smiles up at you wickedly-- he knows you need it, that’s why he’s making you wait.

That’s why he sucks your nipple into his mouth and massages your other breast, before switching sides and doing it all over again. Before long, you’re moaning whenever his hand brushes your thigh, he doesn’t even have to get near your pussy.

“Please, need-- please, I need you to--”

“I know what you need,” he hums, as he lifts you up and kisses your lips languorously again, turning you away from him, “and you can have it, baby.”

He bends you over at the waist, making you place your hands on the bench you were just sitting on, as he kneels between your legs. He runs a slow finger along your slit, noticing that the wetness there is different than the water. It’s thicker, creamier, tastes like you when he presses his finger into his mouth.

Satoru kisses your asscheeks, before dipping down between your legs to where you really need him to be. His tongue is slow and lazy, as he licks between your folds and across your clit, dipping inside of you experimentally.

You moan and struggle to hold yourself up already, as he sucks and kisses your clit lovingly, presses two fingers inside of your needy hole. If there’s one thing Satoru is good at, it’s eating your pussy.

As in, the first time he fucked you, he licked and kissed every inch of you until he figured out precisely which spots made you cum the hardest, which ones made you cum the fastest, which ones made you squirt, and then he never forgot the key that he made for your body.

Satoru can drag an orgasm out of you when you don’t want one, but when you do... You’re crying and clenching around his fingers, you’re rocking your hips back onto his face as he tongue-fucks that one spot that gets you there so well.

The way he licks your pussy is worship for Satoru, it’s love and dedication and adoration, because he’ll please you until the end of the world if you want him to. Maybe he’ll even do it if you don’t want him to.

You’re spasming and creaming on his tongue once, and then he doesn’t stop, he overstimulates you until it happens again, and then again, and then when he’s almost finished playing your body like a virtuoso would a piano-- he makes you squirt, just to prove that he can.

He stops after you’ve fallen apart so many times that you’ve lost count, and your knees buckle. Of course he catches you, chuckling as he holds your spent body up with his muscular arms.

“Think you can still ride me, baby?” He asks to tease you, knowing fully well that you can’t even stand up right now without some assistance.

“No, nonono, need a break,” you respond, laying your lax body against his hard one.

In the end, he dries you off and takes you to bed, he lays you down on your stomach. And then he massages your spent body for a long while, rubbing your arms, your shoulders, your back, your thighs, your ass...

A good long while, it is, before he stops resisting the urge to run his fingers along the slick surface of your cunt and notice that a string of cum connects the two.

He’s hard again, just like that, so fucking hard that he can’t stand it.

“Baby,” he purrs, asking your permission as he slides his cock between your asscheeks, desiring the friction, “you’re dripping again, like you want me to put my cock in you.”

“Please,” You ask, somehow still so aroused after every other orgasm he’s given you, “Mm, want you to make me cum again-- please, please-- oooohhh, fuck.”

He’s already sighing in relief as he slips his length into you. Satoru loves it when he has plenty of time to warm you up for his cock, because you’re so smooth and pliant and accepting of it afterwards, and even after a good four or five orgasms, you still clench and whine and shake, because your pussy is so, so sensitive.

So sensitive, and so wet, and sucking him in so fucking good, and you’re so fucking hot-- and, god, he loves your ass.

Satoru slaps it once, watching the fat of it jiggle as he fucks into you. He grips your waist, leaning down so that his forehead is pressed pressed between your shoulder blades. You’re keening and whining, fingers gripping the sheets for dear life as he rolls his hips into yours again and again.

“’M gonna-- Gonna cum-- Satoru, can I-- Please--”

“Cum for me, baby, cum for me-- wanna feel it, wanna hear it, wanna see it-- cum on my cock-- yes, fuck, there you go-- that’s it, that’s it-- let me hear it.”

You do let him hear it, and see it, and feel it, and he can practically taste it when he’s buried so deeply inside of you. Your muscles constrict, your breaths stagger, and you bite down on the pillowcase to muffle the cry that you let out.

Satoru loves the feral side of you that he sees when he’s fucking you from behind, and you can barely take it. He loves it so fucking much, he loves you so fucking much-- sososososo fucking much.

So much that he needs to show it to you, needs to give you his love with his body and let you accept it and carry it and bring it to life.

For the first time in your relationship, Satoru can’t find it in himself to pull out of you before he cums. No, not today, not right now. You’re practically begging to have his fucking babies, loving him like you do.

Your body needs his babies-- with your wide hips, and your soft smile, and your pillowy tits. He needs to fuck a baby into you, and he doesn’t know why the thought’s just now occurred to him when he’s balls deep, buried inside your cunt.

Like a man gone mad, he rambles, “Baby, I need to—need to— fuck, I need you. C‘mere— Come here. I’m gonna—“

He grabs your ass and hoists your hips upwards, his own hipbones slam against your lower half, and he moans out every syllable of your name as he fills you up with his seed, fucking every last drop of his cum into your cunt, a sign of adoration, a sign of love.

As soon as he loosens his death grip on your hips, your knees buckle, and his cum spills out of your pretty pussy. Satoru pushes it back into you with his fingers, eyes transfixed on the sight of moonlight white cum dripping out of your pussy.

“Did you cum inside me?” You ask, hoarse, out of breath, and likely confused, considering that he’s always been on top of his pullout game.

“I said sixteen kids, didn’t I?”

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the-fiction-witch · 5 months

Text

How Much?

Media IRL

Character Thomas Brodie Sangster

Couple Thomas X Reader

Rating Smut

I hummed my little tune as I stood in the monochromatic bathroom and I got dressed for the work ahead. I have worked for this company for a good few years now. It was easy money. Some jobs could make a pretty fun night. The Odd Rich Boy Bachelor party Or Bankers Party bus could make you a few thousand pounds a night for really just showing up. I once had a man tip me a pair of Tiffany earrings just for serving his drink with ice. But I did like the small quieter jobs some days. It certainly was nice to have the smaller jobs as you always knew you'd get paid. This. Was one of my more favoured.

I left the little bathroom and headed into the little London house, the place well-decorated and recently renovated, littered with items most of which I didn't know much about. I had this job for about a year or so now, I was hired, as a maid my job was to come on every other Friday from four till six and clean the house topless in a little maid skirt. I suppose it sounds strange, but it's a fairly normal ask in this job. I don't question why people want me to do it, they are willing to pay me so I don't ask. Some people are just into that sort of thing. And it paid extremely well for what little work was actually required, Go around with a fluffy duster, push a vacuum around, wash the dishes with a bunch of soapy bubbles that sort of thing. I had met the guy who owned the house a couple of times mostly in passing but I didn't know much about him, Most of the time he wasn't here. He worked away a lot, but the house had a few of those little motion-detecting security camera's lot of people have for pets and often when I'd been over I'd get a tip from him showing that no matter where exactly he was in the world he would always take the time to sit and watch me work. What he does with the video's, Not my business. What he does do while watching them? well, I can imagine but again not my business. Today he was actually here and sat on the sofa reading some paperwork in jeans and a silk skirt so I smiled at him as I got my duster and began my work going around picking up all his little items and dusting the place all with him and sitting watching me. "Pass me a light would you maid girl," He asked, So I spotted a lighter on the table and went over to him as he had a cigarette hung from his lips so I clicked the lighter on and lit the end for him

"Here you are, sir." "Thank you very much," He smiled blowing me a kiss as I went back to work "I haven't been here while you work for ages. I've really missed you," "You've still seen me work," "Yeah, but it's not the same," He shrugged "I missed you," "I missed you too" I smiled as I kept working finding myself upstairs making his bed and he came and leant on the doorframe to watch me as I changed the sheets "y/n?" "Yes sir?" I asked "Just thomas you know that" "Sorry, Yes thomas?" "Bend over." "Yes Thomas" I giggled moving to bend over as much as I could and still work for a moment I was confused why but then it hit me as I caught the sight of the mirrored door on the wardrobe behind me, meaning as I bent over his bed he could watch my ass and pussy in the mirror "There all done" I smiled "Is that all for today Thomas?" "Actually, just before you go" He smirked putting his cigarette out on the ashtray on his chest of draws "Sit." He demanded pushing the centre of my chest so I landed on his bed "This all?" I giggled "I wanna look at you" he smirked “How much for you to spread your legs?” "What?" “How much for you to spread your legs?” "How wide?" "All the way." "A Hundred." "Deal." He smirked grabbing his phone from his pocket and fiddling with it a moment "Done." He smirked turning it to show me he sent it I smiled and did as he asked leaning back on his bed and opening my legs as wide as I could, he smirked leaning on the door frame and staring at me for a while "You're beautiful." he smirked “How much for you to finger yourself?”

"Really?" "Really" "It's expensive." "How much Maid girl?" "Eight Hundred." He glared a moment but opened his phone again "Better be worth it." "It is. I promise" "There you go" I smiled and took my hand to my mouth slipping my fingers inside warming them and licking them before I slowly pulled them out let my hand slip down my body and gently rub on my clit I gasped as I gently circled it playing with it softly before moving my hand down to slip two fingers inside myself, I moved my legs up higher and more apart so he had a better view as I worked pushing my fingers hard often making myself squeal or drip from the pleasure he watched eagerly for a while until he came sitting beside me on the bed he grabbed my wrist so he could control my hand making it go faster and harder as he whispered “How much for you to blow me?” "Depends" "On?" "How you want me." "Humm on your knees. Naked. sucking my dick maid girl." "one-fifty" "Ohh now that is a little too much." He said, "How much just to fuck your tits?" "Two." "Two? Why is that more?" "Messier" I giggled

"Fine." he smirked getting his phone and fiddling a moment and handing it to me as he began to kiss my neck moving his hand from my wrist to circle my clit hard as my fingers worked "You just put in, however much it's gonna cost me for you to get naked. lay on my bed with your legs open, and let me fuck you till I cum" "However much?" "However much it costs. You just type those little numbers in and and well go from there." "It would be a breach of my contract" "you think I care? If you get in any trouble I'll make you my little sugar baby that a deal?" "Deal" I giggled typing the number in and handing it back "Ohhh you are an expensive little thing" he smirked "Humm you worth it though" He smirked sending it through before throwing his phone and dragging me into an intense kiss

#tbs #thomas brodie sangster #thomas sangster #tbs smut #thomas sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster imagine #tbs imagine #tbs imagines #thomasbrodiesangster #thomas brodie sangster smut

44 notes · View notes

apprenticestanheight · 7 months

Note

heyy, i’m here requesting being loyal to my word lol, i have this little idea where adam is stalking/taking pics reader for a job and actually gets like obsessed ?? with them and tries to awkwardly make a move lmao, and obviously this happens before the bathroom events, idk if this idea sucks i just miss my pookie💔

Aldis- A.S x gn! reader

I love this idea so much and writing it was so fun!! Thank you so much for sending it in, writing for Adam is definitely a blast lol

Fic type- this is fluffy!!

Warnings- shitty bosses are implied, and the prices that are mentioned are inaccurate (I looked up aldi grocery prices and then adjusted for inflation by like, a dollar or two lol), stalk-ish behavior is mentioned (adam talks about trailing you going to and from work), cigarettes and smoking are mentioned a few times and Adam might be a little ooc

It started off as a job. Adam found himself hired by your employer to see what it was, exactly, that you did on the way to work and from it. Adam didn't want to know why your boss had wanted to know that of you and the money was good enough to not question it, so he went along with the words of your boss because the money, in the end, helped him pay rent on the shitty apartment he called home.

It started, apparently, because you'd come late to work a couple of mornings in a row with a variety of different excuses--the rain on a day of downpour, your car had broken down, your car was in the shop, your alarms weren't working--but Adam didn't bother to question that, either. He got his camera, he trailed you, he developed the photos and took them to your boss in exchange for cash that could be either devoted to making the rent or buying cigarettes.

Eventually, what was originally just a job became something a bit more for him. He caught himself genuinely caring about you, trailing you not because your boss asked but to make sure you got home without issue.

Care became infatuation, and infatuation got Adam Stanheight where he was--standing inside an Aldi Supermarket at six in the evening on a crisp day in late summer-early fall, having pretended to bump into you in the candle section, of all places, while he shopped Aldi for the deals that he could get on groceries as he needed them anyway.

"Shit!" Adam cursed, catching the candle you held before it could hit the ground on the basis of nothing but luck. "I am so sorry--I barely know my way around this area. I don't typically come down here, but the shop near my apartment is closed for renovations and I needed to grab groceries." Not entirely a lie--you lived in a different spot in New Jersey than he had, but only twenty minutes in a car, and the shop near his apartment where he could've grabbed groceries was closed, so it was Aldis and their bargain deals on any and everything both out of necessity and his minds desire to make a move.

"Oh, no worries!" You laughed. "Seriously--I don't know my way around here either, I typically shop somewhere else, but stuff has happened at work so I gotta do what I gotta do."

Adam had stopped taking photos of you only two days before, having been let go from the job after 'complications' according to your boss.

Adam was trying to flirt, but the flirting part of getting someone to give you their number was not quite his strong suit.

"So," you said. "There must've been another shop in your area. What brings you here?"

"You know that it's impossible to pass on ground beef at 99 cents a pound," Adam said, laughing. "Or a dozen eggs for $1.35, or milk for the low low price of $1.86--it's a rough economy and I am doing my best."

You laughed, and Adams heart gave a funny little flip. "$200 gets you a fuck ton more here than it does anywhere else. I've got candle money, which is nice to have again."

"Are things at work all right?" Adam asked, a feeble attempt at flirting that probably came off a bit too invasive. "Shit--there I go. Asking the way too personal questions. You don't have to answer that, we barely know each other and I don't mean to be invasive."

"My boss has cut my hours in half, is all," you said, shrugging. "I'll be looking for a new job next week, do you know anybody?"

"Nobody reputable," Adam said. "Not that I work with people who aren't, but--"

"What do you do, and what's your name? I'd like to put a name to a handsome face."

"My name is Adam Stanheight," he said. "I take photos."

"Subject matter?"

"PI stuff," Adam said. "I am a glorified snitch, basically, but the money is good."

"Well, glorified snitch," you said. "My name is Y/N and I work in marketing. You ever wanna make a career switch, give me a call."

You passed him your number, and Adam found himself in awe just a bit. He'd fumbled his way through flirting with you like it was the act of trying to share a cigarette and he was a first-time smoker, and you'd flirted like it was nothing.

"What if I don't want to make a career switch?"

"Call me anyway," you said. "We can shop at Aldis together and I can tell you all about the woes of my life in the frozen fruit aisle."

You walked away thereafter, and Adam was left to stand, his cart to his left, in awe.

#adam stanheight #adam faulkner stanheight #adam faulkner stanheight x reader #adam stanheight x reader #saw #saw franchise #saw 2004

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separatist-apologist · 1 year

Text

Straight To My Head

I want to be where you are

Summary: All Nesta wants is to live outside of London in peace. She would like nothing more than days filled with books and quiet- a dream made impossible by the Scotsman determined to relive past battle glories on her front lawn

Big thanks to @dustjacketmusings who gave me the idea of LARP-ing Cassian, and @the-lonelybarricade for being my UK consultant once again.

Part 1/2: I Want To Be Where You Are | Read AO3

Six months before:

“Your Uncle Rupert has died.”

Nesta didn’t bother looking up from her book, despite how terribly rude it was to read at the dinner table. Beside her, Feyre was scrolling through her phone, a frown pinching her face. It left only Elain to set her spoon neatly against a folded napkin and ask, “Uncle Rupert?”

“He was your mothers uncle,” their father replied, drawing both Nesta and Feyre’s attention toward him. He looked absurd in his polo get up, an aging man trying desperately hard to fit in. He reminded her of the girls from school and their lack of personality outside of whatever the latest trend was. It was all terribly boring.

And so was he.

“Oh. How terribly tragic,” Elain, ever dutiful, waited to see if there was anything else expected of her. Nesta knew Elain well, and though she was far too polite to ever show it, she cared just as little as Feyre and Nesta did.

“He’s left you girls an inheritance,” their father continued, drawing a soft sigh of annoyance from Feyre.

“Oh?” Elain questioned, examining her immaculate nails that held the garishly ugly diamond Graysen had given her. Nesta was biding her time, certain her younger sister would realize was a dull, preening asshole he was and call it off…but just in case, Nesta also intended to throw Elain an intervention under the guise of a bachelorette party.

She had time. At least a year.

Maybe more, depending on what this inheritance was.

“Castles. Three castles—one for each of you.”

“Why would he do that?” Feyre asked bluntly, echoing both Nesta and Elain’s thoughts. Their father only shrugged.

“Perhaps he was hoping to elevate the three of you.”

Nesta scoffed. Of course their father would think so. All he cared about was more. More money, more power—more than they could ever need, could ever use. Nesta wanted no part of it.

“Where are these castles, exactly?” Nesta asked, finally setting her book down to look him dead in the face.

“I think I’ll turn mine into a bed and breakfast,” Elain murmured, eyes shining as she mentally began planning.

“You don’t even know where it is,” Feyre interrupted. “What if it's crumbling? What if it’s in the middle of nowhere or what if it’s filled with ghosts. What if—”

“Feyre,” Elain interrupted, eyes wide. “It’ll be fine. I’m sure we weren’t given the crumbling wreckage of some haunted estate.”

Now:

Famous last words.

Nesta often thought of Elain’s certainty. While Feyre and Elain began remodeling, Nesta hadn’t needed to. Of the three, hers was in the best condition, though it needed a heating source outside of fireplaces, and she’d used the money their uncle had also left for renovations to revamp the electric.

After that, Nesta had wasted all of the rest of that obscene allowance on furniture and art, furnishings for the bedrooms, the bathrooms, the kitchen—and the library. Nesta had poured so much time and attention into her library that some nights she fell asleep in the oversized white chair just beside the window.

She’d never imagined herself anywhere but London.

Now she was certain she’d never go back. She’d fallen in love with the solitude, with the Scottish Highlands and the town that existed at the base of the hillside her castle had been built upon. It was as old as the stones themselves, and the people were far nicer than anyone in London on their best day.

Nesta would often walk down the steep pathway where she’d have lunch in the little tavern and buy a book at the shop, which was well-stocked with romance, before making her way to the loch where she’d fall asleep on a blanket, reading the new book she’d purchased.

It was exactly like one of her stories.

Save for him, of course.

All books needed a romantic hero. A man who was both handsome and interesting. Cassian MacDougall was certainly the first—at least six foot five and built like a warrior of old, with dark brown hair that hung against broad shoulders, and hazel eyes that were more brown than green.

Not that Nesta was paying that much attention. Not of the closely trimmed beard against the sharp cut of his jaw. Certainly not of his tattooed arms and chest, which were often bare, his golden brown skin gleaming with sweat given he so often forewent a shirt. He did wear a kilt—a red and blue plaid that offered a rather nice view of his muscled knees.

The problem with Cassian was his personality. Before she’d moved in, Cassian had taken to staging loud battles on her front lawn—it was, apparently, the sight of a very famous Scottish victory in some long forgotten battle against the English.

Nesta had merely asked him to stop doing it so close to her window. She wasn’t even unreasonable the first time.

Could you move further down the hill? She’d asked him, intimidated by his largeness, by how obscenely handsome he was.

He’d shot her a grin, and then turned to his friends. “Did ye hear that, lads?! The Englishwoman wants us to clear out!”Everyone had laughed, and Nesta had been humiliated.

Now it was a battle of the wills between them. The nearby town of Killin was swarmed with tourists during the Spring and Summer months, and Cassian made some of his money by taking tourists on a trip through Scottish history—or so Emerie, the woman who owned the local grocery store, had told Nesta. Spring had officially arrived just that morning, and Nesta was wholly unprepared for the sounds of violence wafting through the open windows.

She was going to kill him. It wasn’t even eight in the morning. Rising from her chair in the empty dining room table, Nesta marched through the quiet halls of her castle. Had her uncle known about this when he’d given her this cursed place? Had she angered him once when she’d been a child?

Nesta didn’t know how to reconcile her love of her home with her hatred of Cassian. He was just as willful, just as stubborn, and perhaps worst of all, determined to push her out.

She’d embarrass him right back. She swore she would. If he’d taken money from people and led them up here, she’d ruin his reputation on Yelp, too. She’d read them—just to know how best to ruin him—and everyone liked Cassian.

Everyone but her.

He was there, in his kilt and a sword and, mercifully, a breezy white shirt. He’d brought all his friends with him, some dressed in the stuffy red and white uniforms that had once belonged to the English. They had bayonets attached to guns, none of it sharp enough to wound, and somehow, someone had managed to roll a replica cannon onto the immaculate grass.

She froze, heart hammering at the sheer scale of what was happening—it was fake, and yet her brain and body reacted as though it were real. Not far from her, an Englishman fell to the ground with a groan, clutching at this chest before going utterly silent.

Nesta couldn’t take her eyes off him. Memories of her mothers death flooded through her, as vivid as the battle raging around her. No one else had been in the room when her mother took those last, rattling breaths but Nesta, who had been only eleven. Nesta had spent those six months caring for their mother while she fell victim to aggressive, incurable cancer. Back then, she hadn’t understood that it would take far more than her love and devotion to save her mother.

Elain and Feyre had been too young to take on that burden, and their father too buried and work and grief. It left only Nesta to witness death, to be there in the final last moments.

She’d refused to speak about it, and rarely allowed herself to even think about death. Something had solidified that day, had become hard and Nesta’s will was unbreakable.

And right then, in the early morning sun, she felt it fracture. Just a little, just enough to empty out her mind. Nesta forgot why she’d gone out in the first place, or what she was doing until warm, strong hands lifted her up in the air and began moving her.

A breath of fear wooshed out of her, palms slapping against a muscular back. Cassian—his shirt plastered to his sweat soaked skin—was carrying her across the grounds as he announced, “And we’d take any English lass for our own!”

Revulsion flooded through her.

“Put me down!” she ordered, afraid he was going to accidentally flash a crowd of tourists with her underwear.

Cassian did as he was told, grinning ear to ear. “Everyone applaud for Lady Nesta. She’s a good sport, playing the part of stuffy English broad.”

Tourists in fanny packs, Hawaiian shirts, and thick socks to their knees, offered her a round of polite clapping. She’d come here to humiliate him, and as he so often did, it was Cassian who’d gained the upper hand. Nesta tried to turn, to leave him there, but his hand shot around her waist, holding her firmly against him.

He rattled off battle facts for a solid ten minutes, fingers digging against the fabric of her blue maxi dress. It was only when he finished, and one of his friends began herding people toward the path that Cassian turned to face her.

Nesta’s heart raced. “What do ye think ye’re doing?” he demanded, dropping his hand as though she disgusted him.

“Me?” she replied, adopting an imperiously cold tone in order to mask her own fear. “This is my home, Cassian.”

He scoffed. “For how long, Nes?”

She hated when he called her that. Hated the familiar, intimate nickname of the fact he’d given her one at all. No one had ever dared.

“Excuse me?” she demanded.

He flinched as if she’d slapped him. “How long,” he repeated, enunciating his words with that faux British accent she hated. He was forever mocking her. “How long before you pack up and move out? Another couple months?”

“I’ll be here forever,” Nesta hissed, hoping he believed her. “I’ll be chasing your children off this lawn one day.”

Cassian’s laugh was humorless. “Oh, I believe ye will. I hope ye’re ready for that. I intend tae be prolific.”

“You’d have to find a willing woman, first,” she replied, holding his stare. “And from what I’ve seen, they don’t find you charming. I wonder why that is?”

“So concerned about my bedroom habits, are ye?”

She’d kill him. “What’s to be concerned about? A man in love with his hand is terribly common.”

Cassian took a step toward her, staring down his nose. He was terribly handsome, a brutal prince with that scar slashed over his thick eyebrow and those eyes that she swore saw right through her.

“If ye want to know what I’m like in bed, ye only have to ask.”

“I don’t fuck animals,” Nesta snapped, praying he couldn’t tell how quickly her heart was beating. She turned, not daring to continue this conversation. It was far too dangerous.

Nesta made it all of two steps before his fingers curled around her wrist, turning her so roughly she stumbled into his chest. Nesta inhaled without thinking, drinking the scent of snow capped wind and cedar and the way the sun smelled against the salt of his skin.

She reached with her free hand and slapped him as hard as she could, right against his jaw.

“Don’t ever touch me again,” she ordered. Cassian’s eyes widened, dropping her as he reached for the blooming mark of red against his skin.

Nesta marched off, though it hardly felt like victory. She was certain she’d lost far more than just her side of that argument. Cassian’s booming laughter chased her back in doors, where Nesta remained even after he returned that afternoon.

She couldn’t face him.

And she certainly couldn’t face herself—or her memories.

-*-

“I heard a rumor about ye,” Emerie called as Nesta browsed the shelves of her shop.

“Oh?” Nesta replied, putting a bag of pasta in her little shopping basket.

“I heard Cassian made ye part of his reenactment last week.”

A groan slipped from Nesta before she could stifle it. “Bragging, is he?”

Emerie’s laugh was a pretty sound. “Of course. He’s tae stupid to realize the reason ye bother him so much is because he has a crush on ye. Like a schoolboy tugging on yer braids.”

“Gross,” Nesta responded. Though, Emerie had grown up with Cassian. Surely she could shed light on why he was so…so…Cassian? “Why is he single?”

Emerie’s brown eyes danced with delight. “Thinking about him, tae?”

“Nope. Just curious, that’s all.”

“Of course. Who wouldn’t be curious? Maybe ye should ask him. I’m sure he’d tell ye all about it…maybe over candlelight and—”

“Okay, that’s quite enough,” Nesta grumbled to more laughter. She collected the rest of her groceries while Emerie filled her in on gossip that didn’t center around Cassian, before bidding her a good day. Nesta had never had true friends, and wasn’t sure if Emerie could even be counted as one. She might have, if Nesta could muster the courage to ask her to do something—anything.

But she couldn’t. So Nesta left knowing a little more about the people of Killin and the sense that some of her loneliness was self-imposed. She couldn’t even pretend it was her mothers death that had made her cold. Even as a child, no one had wanted to play with her. None of the other children liked her.

“Ah, mo chridhe,” Cassian called, jogging up the path that led from the edge of the village toward the castle. “I’ve been looking for ye.”

“I can’t see why,” Nesta sniffed, even as Cassian pulled her heavy canvas bag filled with her groceries and slung it over his broad shoulder. “Do you intend to hold my groceries hostage, too?”

“I’ve come to talk with ye,” he replied, one hand thrown up in defense. “About business.”

“I have no business with you.”

“C’mon, Nes,” he pleaded, drawing her attention toward him. “I’ve been staging battles at Killin Castle for five years now.”

“There is land all around you, Cassian. Surely you can move it.”

“Aye, I could, but the castle adds a certain majesty. And it allows me tae charge more—hold on, don’t look at me like that. I’ll give ye a percentage for your trouble.”

“Fifty percent.”

“Take my fucking balls too,” he grumbled. “Thirty.”

“Thirty percent of your total profits just so you can pretend to kill the English on my lawn?” Nesta asked, arching a brow.

“Forty if ye let me haul you off again.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Fine. Thirty it is, then. In exchange, ye’ll leave me be while I’m working—”

“And you’ll stay further away from the windows,” Nesta replied, pausing to both catch her breath and stare him down. Cassian didn’t seem winded at all, lovely beneath a waning sun.

“Fine.”

“And I want a schedule,” she said, hands on her hips.

“Anything else? My fucking cock and balls on a silver tray, tae?”

“You can keep those,” she sniffed, not wanting to think of either. Cassian didn’t protest, didn’t offer her a filthy remark. He was grinning, as if he’d gotten everything he wanted. Nesta hated to see him so happy.

“This is time limited, Cassian. Just until the summer is over. And then I want you gone. Out of my life.”

“It’s a small town, Nes,” he replied with mock solemnity. “I cannae leave.”

“You can avoid me.”

“What makes ye think I’d want that?”

Having reached the top of the hill, and the end of her patience, Nesta reached for her bag. Cassian pulled just out of reach, eyes searching her own. She didn’t like the look of contemplation on his face, or how serious he’d suddenly become.

“What about what I want, Cassian? Which is peace, and a moment free of the chaos you drag with you.”

“Ye might like it, mo chridhe.”

Nesta glared. “We could have had an amicable relationship months ago. This is all we have now, Cassian. Give me my things.”

He handed her the bag with a rueful smile. “It’s a pleasure working with ye.”

“If only I could say the same, Cassian.”

He merely grinned, which annoyed her more. She took off, daring only once to glance over her shoulder. Cassian remained at the top of the hill, his dark hair blowing around his face while he watched her. He raised a hand in a wave, one Nesta did not return. She didn’t trust this new, helpful Cassian.

Whatever angle he was working would only hurt her if she chose to believe it.

Nesta had learned that lesson with Tomas not a year before.

Nesta wasn’t going to learn it again.

-*-

The thing about Cassian, Nesta learned, was that he woke early. He scheduled his mock battles every day at nine am like clockwork. Nesta was rarely up that early and no matter how she tried, could not fall back asleep. He’d taped his schedule to her front door rather than knock and wake her up, which detailed a seven day schedule in which he reenacted two battles monday through friday, and four on saturday and sunday. It seemed brutal, and yet when he came by, sweaty and grinning that Sunday night with a check, Nesta stopped complaining.

If that was thirty percent, no wonder Cassian had been adamant about continuing. Nesta tucked it away, strangely uncomfortable with taking his money. All through spring, Cassian faithfully left money in the little mailbox, and from April to June, Nesta did her very best to avoid him entirely.

She was avoiding everyone. Even herself. Most days, Nesta left her phone uncharged so she didn’t have to see the incoming messages from Elain. Elain, planning her wedding and somehow managing to deal with what seemed like an incredibly irritable tenant of the castle she’d been left, still checked in. Still asked after her—still wanted to know what had happened to chase Nesta out of London so abruptly.

The joke about becoming a bog witch had never meant to shape her reality. Sometimes she wondered if Elain hadn’t heard. If she didn’t know about Tomas, what he’d said.

What he’d tried to do.

As the weather warmed, and more people flooded into the town, Nesta retreated further into the castle where no one could see her. The mere idea of going out filled Nesta with trembling fear. There was too much left to chance, too much chaos and in response, Nesta found herself practically eating in the library. It was the only place that felt safe anymore.

That. And somehow, Cassian, who’d begun knocking on the front door to offer her up money.

She made her way through the open grand hall, eyeing cobwebs clinging to the overhead chandelier. She needed to find someone who could do some cleaning for her.

Nesta pulled open the old, iron handle to find Cassian, his hair half pulled off his head in a messy bun. He was in his kilt, a stable given how often he played the battle warrior, though it was paired with a plain black t-shirt that showed off both his bulging biceps and his collarbone, teased by the little vee just in the front.

“For ye,” he said, holding out an envelope. As she reached for it, Cassian ducked around her, stepping onto the stone floor. He whistled with appreciation.

“I’ve always wondered what this place looked like.” “It looks like a castle,” Nesta replied, the door still open. “Get out.”

Cassian looked her over. “Are ye eating up here?”

“How is that any of your concern?” she asked, hating how her cheeks warmed under his appraisal.

“Emerie said ye aren’t coming down as often. She’s worried about ye, asked me tae check in. I’m checking, Nes. You look tired.”

“You wake me up early,” she replied, though they both knew that wasn’t it.

Cassian’s eyes narrowed. “Did something happen?”

“Nope. I’m perfectly fine. I’ll see Emerie—”

“Why not let me buy ye something tae eat?” he suggested. “At tae Ensnaring Snake. A pint and something else? Whatever ye want.”

“I don’t need your charity, Cassian. I can have a drink without your leering presence.”

“Ah, but what fun would it be without me?” he asked, a roguish grin on his face. “Come down. Even if ye ignore me the entire time.”

There was no way.

“Unless,” he added casually, unaware of how her heart thudded in her throat. “Ye’re scared.”

“I’m not scared!” Nesta snapped. “Now get out, Cassian!”

“Anything, mo chridhe,” he replied, all but sauntering out. She might have believed his swaggering, male bravado, had he not turned to look at her with those worried eyes. It prompted her, once the door was slammed shut in his face, to go up to the bathroom. She supposed she had gotten a little thinner…and the circles beneath her eyes had become far more pronounced. She was paler, too, though she could blame that on avoiding the sun. Nesta couldn’t remember the last time she’d drank any water.

Or eaten a vegetable.

She showered, braiding her hair in a crown around her head like she so often did. Her hands shook as she buttoned up a pale purple dress and laced up her shoes. She couldn’t bring herself to put on make-up, or do anything else that might draw attention to herself.

You’re so fuckint hot, Nesta. You know it, don’t you, with those eyes—those tits—

Nesta wanted to scream. Hand frozen on the handle, she almost turned around. Tomas’s voice, the feel of him pressed against her, how he’d—no. She took a breath, cleared her throat, and marched out into the waning sunlight. There was no way Nesta would let Cassian think she was afraid of going outside.

Even if he was right.

It wasn’t the outdoors that made her nervous. It was all the people, it was the things she couldn’t control.

By the time she made it down the hill and into the center of the village, Emerie had closed up for the day. A little handwritten note told Nesta exactly where she was.

The Ensnaring Snake.

It had Cassian written all over it. Still, despite how it made her palms sweat, Nesta very carefully made her way toward the tavern she’d once enjoyed eating in. Back when there was no one but familiar faces and the streets were mostly empty.

Now it was packed. Nesta pushed the door open just enough to see Cassian at the far end of he room, head thrown back with laughter at something someone at the table had said. His hair was loose, and he’d foregone the kilt for a pair of regular jeans. He looked so normal—and of course he had friends. She didn’t know why that surprised her. She didn’t know why the sight of a rather pretty blonde running her finger over his bare arm made Nesta back out of the doorway.

Why she suddenly felt so stupid. She hadn’t come for him.

She didn’t care about him.

“Hey!”

Nesta ignored the male voices behind her—and the jarring, American accents that seemed so wildly out of place. Arms wrapped around her body, she meant to trudge back home and pretend none of this had happened.

“Hey,” that voice called, dragging the sound of heavy steps over cobblestone with it. A moment later, a hand was on Nesta’s shoulder. She jumped nearly out of her skin, twisting to look at three unfamiliar faces. Each of them reeked of whiskey, and were likely looking for more fun than the village had to offer. “Where are you going?”

“Don’t touch me,” she ordered, earning snickering laughs.

“Or what?” the first, a bleach blonde with a pair of sunglasses clipped to his t-shirt, asked. “We’re just being nice.”

“Oh? Is this considered polite, where you’re from?”

More laughter. Nesta’s heart raced even as she told herself nothing was going to happen. They were having a laugh at her expense but they’d slink off when they realized they were getting nowhere.

“We could be much more polite,” that first step, lunging forward. Nesta stumbled back, falling to the ground and bashing her elbow against the rough cobblestone. Pain ricocheted through her while her eyes smarted. More humiliation, brought low by men she hated.

Nesta scrambled back to her feet, turning without looking at any of them.

“Aw, sweetheart, come back,” they called, laughing loudly. Nesta started to turn for the castle, thinking she’d race up the hill and lock herself up until morning came.

But they were still behind her, trailing after her while whistling and making other little sounds with their tongues and teeth. Cassian could crest that hill without breaking a sweat, but Nesta was slow—they’d catch her.

She sped up, trying to think of where she could go. Panic was making her clumsy, was making her stupid. She should have turned around and gone back into the tavern where anyone could see. Emerie was in there, she would have helped.

Instead, Nesta picked up her steps, hoping they’d get tired of following her when they realized she was heading out of the village. And when they didn’t—when they tried to get closer—Nesta took off running.

They followed, their shadows jumping ahead even as the sun vanished over the hillside. Nesta could only hear her pounding feet and her nervous heart. She was heading for the loch, the absolute worst place to be given there was unlikely to be anywhere out there. Just her, a body of water, and three very drunk tourists looking to have fun at her expense.

Nesta slowed, trying to figure out her next move.

“Tired, babe?” One of them called.

“I can think of something else that’ll tire her out,” another replied. Nesta was inching closer and closer to the dock, wondering if she could swim far enough out that they’d finally leave. Or if that was stupid, and they’d just jump in after her where she’d be well and truly fucked.

She couldn’t go past them. Glancing over her shoulder saw the three of them walking in a solid line. They’d catch her.

“Please stop,” one of them called, jogging after her. Nesta surged forward, her feet touching the dock before she felt those fingers on her arm again. “Why are you running?”

She wanted to die. “You’re chasing me.”

“You don’t have to run. We don’t want to hurt you,” he lied, his eyes absolutely betraying him. She’d seen that look before, had watched another man’s gaze dip below her chin, taking in her body, wondering what it would feel like to just have her, regardless of her own feelings on the matter.

“Take your hands off me.”

The other two laughed and laughed. “Or what?”

“Or—”

“Or I’ll kill ye,” came another, familiar voice. Nesta could have sobbed at the sound, had never been happier than she was just then to see Cassian strolling up, deceptively casual. He cocked his head, dark hair spilling around him as he waited.

That first man looked from Cassian to Nesta and then, with a smile that clearly said he thought Cassian was outmatched, replied, “Oh? She’s yours?”

Cassian didn’t smile. “Find out.”

Nesta was so busy watching Cassian that she’d stopped watching the others. She didn’t see that hand shove toward her, didn’t realize he’d decided to call Cassian’s bluff until she stumbled backwards.

She hit the water with a choked scream. She flailed for a moment, twisting around before pushing upward. The water was dark, was colder than she’d expected, though not so cold she couldn’t still think straight.

She broke the surface a moment before she heard a splash, and then felt him, arms around her.

“Don’t hit me,” Cassian warned breathlessly.

“Where did they go?” Nesta demanded, letting Cassian drag her back to the dock. He hoisted her up effortlessly before joining her. Water sluiced off him, though he hardly seemed to notice. His eyes burned, and when he reached for her, she saw his knuckles were bloody and had begun to swell and bruise.

“They’re gone,” he said tightly. He swallowed some unnamed emotion, looking her over.

“Unharmed,” she said, resisting the urge to draw her knees up to her chest. Instead, Nesta gingerly rose to her feet, weighed down by the heavy fabric of her dress and her wounded pride.

“I saw ye,” he said, following her up. “In the tavern. I saw ye come in and I—”

He’d followed her. Nesta might have asked him why another night. Might have berated him for thinking she’d want his attention. Instead, Nesta forced herself to take a breath.

“Will you walk me home?”

Cassian swallowed again. “Yeah. I—is this my fault, Nes?”

“No, Cassian,” she said, suddenly exhausted.

“I was trying to rile ye up. Get ye out of that castle. I feel like…”

“It’s not your fault,” she repeated.

It’s mine, she nearly added, though she kept it behind her teeth.

“Why didnae ye run home, mo chridhe? Why’d ye come out here?”

“The hill,” she whispered, trying so hard not to let him see how rattled she was. Cassian looked down, eyebrows raised with surprise.

“Can I show ye something?”

And right then, Nesta would have let Cassian do anything he liked so long as he didn’t leave her.

“Sure.”

“Cassian,” Nesta began when he opened the door to the Ensnaring Snake.

“Trust me,” he replied, placing a careful hand on her bruised elbow. Inside, music and laughter flooded Nesta’s senses, and for a moment she expected him to lead her back to his table. She almost wanted him to, though she was in no mood to make conversation. It might have been nice to hear him introduce her to his friends, to sit her down and buy her that pint like he’d promised.

He wove in and out of the tables, nodding when people called his name. His touch was light—careful. Like he knew better than to do any more.

Like he knew what she didn’t like about it.

There was no way to explain to him that his touch had never bothered her. She’d have to tell him that she noticed his eyes, how they stayed on her face. How even when he’d been surveying her that morning, he’d been looking with concern—not desire. Not lewd appreciation. And how even when Cassian was manhandling her, his hands never went anywhere inappropriate, though it would have been all too easy for him to cop a feel and play it off like an accident.

She wondered if he even realized it.

Cassian took her around the back of the bar, pulling open an old, wooden door that clearly led to a cellar.

“Cassian,” Nesta tried again.

“Trust me,” he repeated. Nesta opened her mouth to tell him she didn’t trust him at all. But she could see his swollen knuckles from the corner of her eye, and thought of how quick he must have been to hit them hard enough to hurt himself and jump into the water after her. He hadn’t had to do either. He could have left her. Could have walked away.

So Nesta followed him down into the musty dark, wishing she could grab his arm.

“I used tae come here when I was wee,” Cassian explained, leading her around packing boxes and crates toward another, sturdier door. “You’ll still have to go uphill, but it takes ye right to the castle.”

Nesta was still sopping wet, exhausted and wrung out. She looked up at him, wanting him to go with her. She couldn’t ask.

“Thank you,” she said instead, turning toward that dark.

“I’ll see ye up,” Cassian said gruffly.

And together, they plunged into that darkness.

-*-

“What do you mean, married?” Nesta demanded, phone to her ear as she stomped out of the bookshop. “How can she marry a fictional man?” “He’s not fictional,” came Elain’s patient voice. “I looked him up. Rhysand Campbell is a Duke. I guess that’s why she kept such a tight lid on him back home.”“A Duke? For Feyre?!” Nesta spluttered, trying to imagine wild, carefree Feyre marrying into ancient, outdated royalty. She’d always expected that of Elain, if anyone.

“I’m going to meet him next week, so I’ll let you know. But he seems very accomplished, and he’s quite handsome.”

“Is she sure?” Nesta asked, not thinking about her path until she was already on it. “Marriage is just so…”

She trailed off, remembering that Elain was engaged. Hell. She hadn’t meant to insult her, though the tense, following silence made Nesta think she had. “How er…how is that going?”

“I called it off,” Elain finally said, her voice strange and small. “Just yesterday.”

“Did he do something?” Nesta demanded, readjusting the blanket she was caring beneath her arm. “Because I’ll kill him—”

“It’s all handled,” Elain assured her quickly. “I don’t expect him to give me any trouble.”

“What does that mean? Handled how?” Nesta demanded. Elain was so nice it practically made her a doormat. Nesta didn’t believe for a single second that Elain had truly handled anything, and wondered if the engagement had been called off for infidelity. Graysen wouldn’t give her trouble because he’d already moved on.

“Drop it, Nesta,” Elain replied firmly.

“Fine. But if you need help—”

“I don’t. Everything here is fine. How are you doing? Did you ever get rid of that guy role playing on your lawn?”

Nesta started to say that she and Cassian had reached a truce of sorts, which wasn’t quite the truth and not exactly a lie, either. Instead, Nesta said, “Erm…let me call you back.” Because there, in the middle of the glittering water, stood a very shirtless, possibly naked Cassian. Gleaming in the sunlight, his head tipped back so the rays might warm his face. He didn’t look real and Nesta didn’t know what to do.

He wasn’t alone. Along the shore, children splashed and kicked up water while others floated around him, oblivious to what Nesta was seeing. She wondered what the whorling, inked tattoos on his shoulders and chest meant.

And as she wondered, her eyes drifted down the packed muscles against his ribs, toward the carved vee of his hips. Nesta could scarcely breathe, had forgotten what she was supposed to be doing until her eyes came back to his face.

He was looking at her, too. Shit eating grin etched over his handsome face, one hand raised upward to beckon her to join him.

Hell.

Nesta turned, embarrassed she’d been caught ogling him. She would not submit to any of his humiliating taunts or those burning eyes that promised far more than Nesta thought she wanted. Of course, Cassian couldn’t bask in his victory, of knowing some diseased part of her was attracted to him, despite their strange push-pull between animosity and friendship. He was behind her in a pair of bright red swim trunks and nothing else, jogging up the path while Nesta tried desperately to escape him.

“Why are ye leaving?” he asked, running a hand through his still wet hair. “Come swim.”

“No, thank you,” she replied. “I just remembered—”

“Oh, bullshit, mo chridhe,” he replied. “There is nothing to do but sit up at that miserable stack of rocks. Swim with me.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Okay, then do something else with me,” he replied.

“Why would I do that?” she asked, rounding on him. That was a mistake. Cassian was far closer than she thought, and when she stopped, he kept going. He kept her from tumbling backward, wrapping a slick around her and pressing her into his chest.

She hated how good it felt to touch him. To feel him hold her, to keep her close for a moment before he let her go.

“Why not?” he asked, strangely breathless. “Ye’ve been here half a year—don’t ye want friends?”

“Is that what we are?” she asked, distracted by how close he was, by how nearly naked he was. It took no effort to try and picture what the rest of him might be like…and it would have been a lie to say she wasn’t curious if all of him was large.

“Yes?” he asked, clearly frustrated. “I thought so.”

“I don’t want to swim,” she repeated, though in truth, Nesta didn’t want to do anything with him right now. It was too risky to be alone with him. She’d touch him, she’d get on her knees and do any number of terrible, filthy things to him. Nesta couldn’t breathe. She needed to escape him.

“Something else?” he asked, not moving an inch. His eyes were glazed over, staring right through her. Nesta blinked.

“I er…another day, Cass.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “I should—” he turned abruptly. Had she upset him? Nesta watched him for a moment before she turned, too, unwilling to get caught staring at him again. Nesta didn’t allow herself to think of him at all. For the rest of the day, every time the image of him standing in the water, Nesta banished it quickly and busied herself in some other task.

Right up until night fell, and she could crawl into bed.

Only then did Nesta allow herself to think about Cassian.

-*-

“Rhysand is missing,” Elain whispered to Nesta. Nesta, still guarding the door where Feyre was speaking with a Duke, turned to look at her sister, eyes wide.

“I’ll kill him,” Nesta hissed, biting her bottom lip.

“His friends are here,” Elain said, running through a mental list of guests. “I’ll see if they know where he is. Don’t move,” Elain added, finger in the air.

“This whole thing is a disaster,” Nesta grumbled, hating the pitying look Elain threw her. Nesta knew, realistically, that Elain had done her best with the guest list and she was terrible at telling their father no. And Elain had called ahead of time to warn Nesta that the Mandray’s had secured an invitation.

Everyone wanted to see Feyre Archeron marry a Duke. Social parasites and other hanger-oners had flooded into the lovely castle all day, marveling over the architecture and hoping to rub elbows with real royalty.

Nesta didn’t think Elain had managed to get anyone but Duke Campbell, just as she didn’t think Feyre was aware her wedding had turned into the event of the year. Nesta was desperate to avoid the majority of London, and planned to catch a ride back with Elain in the morning. Just to the train station—she’d make the rest of the way back on her own, even if she had to walk.

There was no way she was spending a weekend with Tomas Mandray.

Elain returned, accompanied by a familiar, grinning face. “Well, well, well,” Cassian said, running his hand down a buttoned down, black shirt. He wore that red and blue kilt and black socks that came up over his knees, a sporran around his hips.

“Do you two know each other?” Elain asked.

“This is the gentleman roleplaying on my lawn,” Nesta said. The man beside him, dressed identically, though his kilt was primarily blue plaid.

“Role-playing, Cass?” he asked.

“This is Cassian?” Elain replied, eyebrows raised to the sky.

“Have ye been talking about me?” Cassian asked Nesta with a lopsided smile. “What else does she say?”

“That you’re exceptionally obnoxious,” Elain replied, earning a laugh from the other man.

“All true,” he murmured, before adding, “Azriel.”

They were given no more time for pleasantries before Feyre emerged, flushed and practically glowing. She didn’t seem concerned that her fiancé was missing—only annoyed. Elain ordered them to split up, which Azriel did without complaint—but Cassian did not.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he said just as soon as Elain and Azriel were out of earshot. “I didnae know Feyre was yer sister. I should have guessed, I supposed, given what a hard time she’s given my brother.”

“Good for her,” Nesta replied before adding, “Brother?”

“Not in tae biblical sense. Rhys and I met when he was at a posh boarding school and trying to buy whiskey on the weekend.”

“Let me guess—you sold him the whiskey.”

“Ye know me so well, mo chridhe,” he said with a grin. “Been inseparable ever since.”

“Then why is he missing?” she demanded. Cassian pulled open a closet door, revealing a mop that fell to the floor with a loud clatter.

There was no humor on Cassian’s face as he knelt to pick it up. “He doesn’t think he’s worthy.”

Nesta didn’t know how to take that, how to possibly respond. She didn’t know any man that had ever put a woman above himself. The idea that Rhysand would have left because he thought her sister could do? better was an anomaly. Unheard of.

“I’ll bet they’re outside,” Nesta said after a moment. Cassian caught her by the arm, holding her still.

“Maybe they don’t want tae be found just yet,” he murmured, that burning back in his eyes.

“Cass—”

“Nesta?”

She wanted to die at the sound of that voice. Those brown eyes, that sharp, sneering face and that lean body pressed into an elegant suit. Cassian turned, looking Tomas up and down with such keen awareness on his face. She could read his every expression, the oh, I understand now.

But he didn’t.

Nesta started to inch closer to Cassian, who, of course, immediately noticed. He took her hand in his, raising it to his lips, and ghosted a kiss against her knuckles. It was so obviously a claiming and a threat, all at once.

“Hi, Tomas.”

“I didn’t think you’d be here.”

“For my sister's wedding?” she asked archly. “I’m surprised you’re here.”

Cassian raised his brows.

“Of course I am,” he replied, staring her down with those dead, soulless eyes. “Your father said I was the son he never had.”

Cassian started to take a step forward, stopped only by Nesta’s vicious squeeze of his hand.

“He’s still so terribly disappointed by how things happened. What, exactly, did you tell him?”

Nesta wanted to die. “Nothing,” she managed, her heart pounding in her throat. Cassian watched this power struggle—did he understand what was happening?

“We should get together the next time you’re in London,” Tomas said, eyes flicking to Cassian with distaste. As if Cassian couldn’t have broken him clean in two. As if Cassian was someone beneath him. “Carter.”

Cassian offered an edged smile. “Hackit.”

Nesta snorted, pressing her hand against her lips. Tomas narrowed his eyes, but kept moving without insulting her. Nesta imagined he, too, realized the danger Cassian presented. Even without those swollen, bloodied knuckles, Cassian looked like a man who could fight.

“Want tae tell me what that was about?” Cassian asked the second Tomas slipped down the hall.

“Of course not,” she snapped, wrenching her hand from his. “Don’t kiss me again.”

“No? Are ye sure about that? Because I saw ye at the loch—”

“You didn’t see anything,” Nesta insisted, heart hammering. Her two worlds were colliding unforgivably. Cassian and Tomas were not supposed to exist together, and seeing Cassian, in his kilt, call Tomas ugly in his suit, had managed to tie Nesta up in knots.

“Don’t go out there,” Cassian complained when Nesta stepped onto the lawn, still rain soaked from a recent storm. “Yer gonna ruin yer dress!”

“FEYRE!” she yelled, mostly to convince Cassian to stop talking.

“Ye cannae end every conversation ye don’t like by running off. I’m not going anywhere, mo chridhe come back—”

Cassian hauled Nesta up over his shoulder before she could take another step.

“Cassian! Put me down!”

“No,” he replied easily, walking her back to the house. “They’ll return when they’re ready.”

“Cassian,” she pleaded. He set her back to her feet, catching that note of desperation in her voice before she had to beg, though his body blocked her path further into the castle.

“What did he do to ye, Nes?” he asked, his fingers curling to fists at his side.

“Why do you care?” she demanded, throwing her hands up in the air.

“Of course I care!” Cassian hissed, stepping closer, until Nesta was pressed against the stone wall.

“I don’t understand you,” Nesta breathed, swallowing hard as he drew nearer.

“Trust me, I don’t either,” he whispered. “Will ye tell me what he did to ye?”

“Why? So you can hit him, too?”

“Oh, mo chridhe, I will do far, far worse,” he murmured, his eyes dropping to her mouth. Nesta had lost control of the situation, of this man who she didn’t even like. Who would go back to reenacting battles on her lawn, who was beloved by the town and the son of a Duke and—

“If ye won’t tell me that, tell me something else.”

Nesta’s eyes went back to his. More brown than green. “What?”

“Tell me the truth, Nesta Archeron. Tell me ye want me just as much as I want ye.”

“I—” he caught her lips before the lie could tumble out of them, kissing her softly. One hand cupped her cheek while the other braced the wall she was pressed against. His eyes fluttered shut but Nesta kept hers open, drinking him in. He looked so wrecked, like he’d been thinking about this for a long, long time and was finally realizing it was nothing like he imagined.

And so she kissed him back, hands at her sides while she waited for the inevitable disappointment. The realization that whatever he’d imagined didn’t live up to reality. One kiss became two, became a third and yet Cassian didn’t pull back like they so often did. He didn’t sharpen. If anything, he became softer, more desperate with each passing kiss between them. The softness of his closely trimmed beard brushed over her jaw while his thumb rubbed a soft circle over her cheek.

Give in, she swore she heard him say. Nesta wanted to—oh, she wanted to take everything he was offering so badly it made her legs shake. If he didn’t know now, he’d figure it out soon enough. Nesta was not the kind of woman men fell in love with. She’d never been that woman, and never would be. No matter how badly she wanted to be, no matter how much she wanted to believe Cassian could push through walls made of iron and find the trembling softness beneath, he was still a man.

And at some point, she’d become a game for him. Something to conquer, regardless of the tactics it took. It was that thought that convinced Nesta to finally pull back, hands planted on his chest as she shoved.

“That’s enough,” she said, another lie he immediately caught.

Cassian pressed a kiss to her cheek. “It’s not,” he rumbled, reaching for the back of her neck. “Ye want me to think yer made of ice, but I know better.”

“Oh? And what am I made of, Cassian?” she demanded in that hard, imperious tone. The sort that pissed men off, that sent them running.

His eyes flashes.

“Fire.”

When he kissed her again, Nesta’s eyes slammed shut before she even realized what she was doing. This time, Nesta’s fingers raked through his neat hair, pulling him closer. She wasn’t gentle, thinking it would push him off her. She misjudged him—Nesta pulled at the strands and Cassian groaned, pressing his body hard against her. He liked this.

Which was a fucking tragedy, because she did, too. Cassian moaned again, loud enough anyone with ears in the vicinity knew what was happening in the back hall, and Nesta, for just this once, did not care.

Her tongue swept into his mouth, tasting him like she’d wanted to the day at the loch. He tasted like whiskey and warmth and like she needed to get him out of his clothes as fast as she could, before she changed her mind.

“Slow down, slow down,” he breathed, catching her wrist when she trailed down his chest. “Have ye done this before?”

“Does it matter?” she replied, certain it didn’t.

He huffed out a soft breath. “Of course it fucking matters.”

“I—” He was going to ruin her. He was already making a mess of things. Nesta needed the upper hand, needed a way to get what she wanted without getting hurt. If that was even possible.

There was no way to have him and remain unscathed. The smart thing to do was walk away. “This can’t mean anything, Cassian.”

His brows furrowed. “Ye don’t mean that.”

“You don’t know me–”

“Because ye make it impossible!” he replied, raking his fingers through his hair. “People care about ye, and it’s like…”

“Like what?” she asked, her throat rough and dry. She never should have stopped kissing him. She shouldn’t have said anything at all. Cassian looked down the hall, sighing a breath.

“Like ye expect us all tae leave ye, so ye leave first.”

“You don’t like me,” she said. It was a question.

No one likes me. Why should you?

“At first,” he admitted. “I thought ye’d be like yer uncle. Stuffy…arrogant…and ye were, ye know ye were. I thought ye’d leave—hoped, I suppose. Until I started liking the sight of ye, storming out with yer braid and yer book. Fuming mad and all of it directed at me. I wanted to get tae know ye and I’ve been trying. And not just me. Emerie, tae. She thinks the world of ye. Yer sisters, tae, and probably everyone else if ye let them.”

Nesta shook her head, swallowing the wave of emotion rising. “This is all wrong. You hate me–”

“Hate,” he said, pressing both palms against the wall, caging her between his body, “is the last thing I feel for ye.”

“I wish you did,” she said.

“If all ye want is something unserious,” he began, eyes searching her own. She swore he could read her every word for the truth, that he didn’t need to hear her speak to know all the things wrong. All the secrets she held. “Then I’ll take what yer offering. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to fuck ye in the hall.”

“Cassian—”

“Ye said, ‘I don’t fuck animals,’” he began mimicking an absurd British accent. “And I believe ye. At least, for now.”

“This is a bad idea,” she whispered, certain she was going to be picking her shattered heart up off the floor by the time they were done. Cassian brushed his lips over her own.

“When it comes tae ye, mo chridhe, I have no defenses.”

#nesssian #nesta x cassian #nessian fanfiction #nesta archeron #cassian acotar #dont let part 1 fool you #like oh theyre going to talk about their feelings LOL youll see #also im in hell because i want to write elucien so bad and instead im just teasing it in the background

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mymultiverse00 · 5 months

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Left Behind

This is my first ever Twilight story. I hope you like it!

There are no hiding spots for humans in Volterra Castle, especially when considering its residents. Oh, I can find a dark corner to huddle in for a little while or even go outside to bask in the blazing hot sunshine, but no matter where I go, someone will always find me. They follow my voice, or my scent, or the sound of my wheelchair on the ancient stone floors, and like magic, any hope I had for some blissful solitude is completely shattered. But today is different. Today there are visitors in the castle from far away covens, and suddenly, no one around me can spare me a second glance, not even my mate. That part hurts the most.

I met my mate only six months ago while working in town at the old Volterra library. At the time, I had no real home, no living family, and really, no hope. I was barely eking out a living, limited by both my mobility and my inability to speak the local language. I was depressed and crippled by low self-esteem and severe anxiety. I barely had the will to go on, but then I met Marcus, and everything changed.

Every day for three months the tall, somber man visited me at the library, and slowly the two of us developed a relationship that blossomed into love. He confessed his feelings and his secret one rainy night in my tiny apartment and offered me a future I couldn’t possibly turn down. He moved me into his home and introduced me to his family, and never once was my disability an issue for him. In fact, he went out of his way to make things easier for me. Every day he told me he loved me, and brick by brick, he helped me rebuild my self-confidence and push the depression away.

As soon as I agreed to move in, Marcus started renovating and redecorating his rooms, adding low-profile furniture and other accessible fixtures. He remodeled the bathroom completely, adding grab bars and a roll-in shower with a sturdy teakwood bench across the back wall. He brought in a new bed that had the ability to be raised and lowered at will, along with a mountain of pillows designed to take pressure off my back, hips, and knees, and never once complained about his own discomfort.

He also considered my other human needs, expanding doorways and lowering work surfaces, creating unobstructed pathways to the garden and conservatory, and even convincing Aro to hire a full-time chef to cook my meals. He made it very clear that he wanted to make the remainder of my human life as simple as possible and would stop at nothing to make me happy.

There was only one thing he couldn’t change, however, and I have a hard time holding it against him: the stairs. Volterra Castle is full of ancient stone staircases everywhere you look. Stairs going up to Athenadora and Sulpicia’s rooms; stairs going down to the kitchen and the activity room for the lower guard; stairs keeping me firmly planted on the first floor of the castle at all times.

Normally, stairs are not a huge issue. Marcus took great delight in lifting me up into his strong arms in order to ferry me anywhere I wanted to go. He would loop my arms securely around his neck and pick me up like a bride, sneaking kisses and snuggles all along the way. I would giggle girlishly at his roguish behavior, and he would smile, and maybe we would be late to our destination if we ever made it at all. Today, however, the stairs won.

——————

The morning had been a busy one, with everyone buzzing around the castle, preparing for the arrival of some very important guests. Marcus and his brothers were holding a summit of sorts, and covens from all over Europe would be arriving at noon for two days of festivities. There would be a grand reception this afternoon and evening, and after the meetings ended tomorrow, there would be a lavish ball. This was the first time I would be introduced to such a large group as Marcus’s mate, so I was extremely nervous, but my love had assured me that I would be welcomed by all.

Or at least I would have been, had I been in the throne room with the rest of the group. Somehow, in all the excitement of handshaking and backslapping during the arrival of our guests, everyone forgot about the half dozen steps required to enter the gathering hall, subsequently forgetting about me too.

After 45 minutes of rolling back and forth in front of the doors and occasionally speaking Marcus’s name out loud, hoping to catch his attention, I decided to give up. Obviously, he was too busy to miss my presence, as were Aro, Caius, my sisters, or my friends in the guard. My feelings were hurt, undoubtedly, but seeing no other option, I decided to return to my room and wait for someone to realize I was absent.

No one noticed.

Hours went by without a peep. No one came to look for me, and no one brought me dinner either. I couldn’t get to the kitchen myself because of the goddamned stairs, so there was nothing left for me to do but stay exactly where I was, hidden in the furthest corner of my room’s veranda, trying not to be hungry and trying not to sob out loud as I cried. My heart was aching as the heavy feeling of abandonment settled over me, and my old friend, self-loathing, started creeping in. The next several hours were filled with ugly thoughts and horrible sadness, and though I wanted to resist that darkness, it completely overwhelmed me once more.

——————

It was nearly midnight when I finally heard my mate’s frantic voice calling out for me from our shared bedroom.

“Y/N!” Marcus called, a hint of desperation in his tone. “Y/N? Where are you my love?”

“Out here, Marcus,” I replied listlessly, barely raising my voice as I knew he could hear me. I was mentally and physically drained from the emotional upheaval of the day and made no real effort to emerge from my safe little hiding spot. I could hear how upset I had made him, and I was unsure if I could face him just then.

“My darling!” He cried, finally spotting me and speeding quickly to my side. His eyes quickly scanned me for injury. “Where have you been, little one? I couldn’t find you.”

I looked down at my hands as I answered him, too afraid to look into his eyes. “I’ve been here, Marcus. All day.”

“But why, tresoro?” He took my hands in his. “Did you not want to meet our guests? Many of them came here just to see you.” I could tell he was disappointed in me and my heart broke just a little bit more.

“I-I-I… did want to…” I stammered, “But I couldn’t. There was no way for me to get into the throne room, Marcus. I was left behind,” I concluded quietly, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall.

“Left behind?” He questioned.

“Yes.” I paused. “How long, Marcus?” I asked dejectedly.

“How long for what, Y/N? I don’t understand.”

“How long did it take for you to realize I wasn’t there with you, Marcus? 2 hours? 4?”

He closed his eyes as it finally started to sink in. “Y/N, I’m…”

“Disappointed in me?” I whispered. “I understand. I’m sorry, Marcus. I have not been a very good mate to you today, and I have shamed you. I understand why you and the others did not look for me. I have not been an asset to the family.” Tears streamed freely down my face as I tried to apologize for my shortcomings.

“Y/N, no. Please don’t cry.” Marcus begged, crouching down to my level as he tried to comfort me. “It is I who should apologize. It is my duty to look out for you and to protect you. I have failed in that today; I should have remembered you needed help with the steps. There were so many people, and I got caught up….”

“I thought you didn’t want me anymore.” I interrupted with a sob. “No one came for me all day, and I thought I had done something wrong! Maybe I have become too much of a burden on you..”

“Never, amore!” He said with conviction, bending his head low to kiss my hands.

“But it’s true, Marcus! I know it is! Every day you are forced to do things you would never typically do, all because of me,” I said sadly. “You’re the King of Volterra, Marcus! And I have you spending your days babysitting me. You help me in and out of bed; you help me dress; hell, you’ve even had to help me in the shower a time or two! You’re forced to carry me around this castle all day long - and my wheelchair - because I can’t even get myself to the kitchen to feed myself. I’m asking you for too much, and I don’t want you to resent me for it.” My tears were hot and burned my cheeks as they continued to fall. “I’m sorry for disappointing you.”

“Oh, Y/N,” he soothed. “Come here, darling.” He scooped me out of my wheelchair and into his arms, hugging me tightly to his chest. “Y/N, my heart, I love you! More than anything in the world. You are my mate, and I do all of those things you mentioned before because I want to. I am honored that you allow me to help you throughout the day, and you could never be a burden to me. If anyone should be apologizing here, it should be me! I disappointed you today, and I am sincerely sorry for that. I never want you to feel left behind or unwanted again, and I will spend the rest of our eternity making up for my error today. I will also speak to our contractor about adding some wheelchair ramps where we can and an elevator as well. I should have done so long ago.” He wiped my tears away with the sleeve of his robe. “Can you forgive me, sweetheart? I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

I nodded slowly against his chest, taking in deep, ragged breaths in an attempt to calm my feelings. I love him so much that not forgiving him was never really an option for me. After a long time, I spoke to him again.

“Marcus?” I asked quietly. “Do you think things will be different… after you change me?”

He smiled at me, gently moving some stray hair out of my eyes before he spoke. He sighed softly, resting his forehead against my own. “I don’t know for sure, my precious one. We have seen vampire venom heal a number of injuries and ailments in the past, sometimes even snatching someone back from the brink of death, like dear Jane and Alec. Every change is different, darling. I want you to know, however, that no matter what the outcome of yours, Y/N, I will always love you and will work to keep you by my side forever.”

“The world’s first vampire in a wheelchair.” I scoffed. “Some claim to fame.”

“How about ‘Queen of Volterra, Mate of King Marcus’ for a claim to fame?” He suggested, gazing at me adoringly.

“That could work,” I giggled, moving to bring our lips together in a tender kiss. “I’m sorry I let my anxiety get the best of me, Marcus.”

“And I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me, my darling girl. Now, I know it’s late, but we need to get some food for you, and then I believe I can come up with some more… creative ways to apologize to you. Interested?”

“Always.”

The end

#marcus twilight #marcus volturi #marcus volturi x reader #reader insert #reader has a disability #reader in a wheelchair #mention of mental health issues #the twilight saga #twilight renaissance

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percyaugod · 5 months

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The first time the turtles eat pizza is when they visit Donnie at his house. It's hard to cook enough for two growing teenage boys, especially when one is a mutant. Trying to cook for six teenagers, five of which are boys, and four of which are mutants? No. We're ordering pizza. A lot of pizza. The turtles seem hesitant at first but give it a try when they see Donnie seeming to enjoy it.

After their first bites, they start eating like they've never been fed. When asked what they usually eat they reply with worms and algae Donnie hugs his family tightly thanking them for finding him. Casey notices the turtles giving them jealous looks. He smirks back, starting the Brotherly Love Triangle.

When the turtles first take Donnie back to the lair he starts sobbing. They hope he's remembering something but no. This place is just that awful. How do you guys live like this? The only stuff there is old furniture, krank lanterns, and comics splinter scavenged for them.

No Donnie growing up in the lair means no lights, running water, appliances, etc. Donnie doesn't even want to know what they do about the bathroom. He spends the next two weeks completely redoing the lair. Mr Jones even gave them some old videos he watched as a child that Casey never wanted. Maybe one of these boys would like Space heroes.

After renovating the lair Donnie starts hanging out there more often. He put the work in, he should get to enjoy it. Besides. It is kind of nice to have a place to go to when the rest of the family is at school and work. Nice having other people to talk to as well. Even if they're all somehow more socially inept than he is.

When Donnie first sees Splinter he says he knows New York has a rat problem, but this is ridiculous. While also making fun of a very terrified Casey.

He accidentally helps them. They talk to him, he gives genuine thought and advice that makes them realize things and start working through their problems on their own.

Makes them play board games and sits back and laughs watching them go at each other's throats. You have no strength here Splinter. No one fears a man with only one railroad. Next time he'll bring Uno. A surprise when they say "Nothing is worse than monopoly."

Donnie accidentally helps the brothers understand Raph a little more when they realize how hard it is to control their anger while playing a simple board game. 'Raph feels like this all the time? This sucks!'

Since he wasn't raised by splinter Donnie isn't much of a ninja but Mr Jones has taught him how to box and he is still a very strong and fast mutant that carries around a metal pipe.

Now that Donnie is spending the day at the lair Splinter starts giving him lessons. Donnie agrees mostly because the more ways he knows how to fight the better he can protect Casey from his vigilante bullshit.

Since Donnie didn't get out too much when living with the Jones he was usually leaning over his desk a lot. This leads to him being hunched over most of the time even after meeting the other turtles. After starting his training and working out years worth of sore and tense muscles he can stand straight for the very first time since meeting the turtles. Raph thanks it's hilarious that Leo isn't the tallest anymore.

Donnie makes a lab in the turtle's lair for his more. . . unstable projects that he's not allowed to do at home.

#tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2012 au #2012 donnie #separated au #2012 separated au #Brother from another ooze AU

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sweaterkittensahoy · 22 days

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WE HAVE A FLOOR

OH THANK FUCK

So, for those of you who don't know or don't recall or just love seeing this fucking story again and again because this shit has HAUNTED me for NEARLY TWO YEARS, let's turn back the clock:

2022:

By the end of June 2022, the following things had happened to me in the year 2022:

Six sinus infections, one right after the other. Tested for Covid each and every time. Not Covid. When to the doctor on day 12, got the antibiotics, shit cleared up. And basically the moment the antibiotics cleared my system, new sinus infection.

Had so many in a row, in fact, that my my ashtma wouldn't calm down, and we had to get me on steroids for ten days to basically reset my lungs.

Went to a family wedding, first big trip since lockdown.

Came home from the family wedding and had Covid. I regularly get body pain with my fevers, and this was the worst body pain of my life. I barely remember going to the doctor for the test so I could take time off. It was bad.

Was very close to a major realization that a friendship I thought was going to last my whole life had become utterly toxic and abusive.

And then the end of June hit. And I woke up one morning to Sean cursing, which was alarming. Because I curse like a sailor, but he does not. I get up to see what the problem is.

The problem is a quarter-inch of water through most of our apartment. It was coming through our light fixtures. We are in a renovated basement of a house from the 1920s. I ran outside then up the stairs to see what was going on up there.

The house is two stories. Overnight, the toilet supply line on the second story had begun to leak. This kind of leak is a silent affair. We don't know when it started. But when we woke up, the entire living/kitchen area was flooded. The laundry room/bathroom was flooded. The water had soaked into the bedroom carpet so far that it was sopping wet from the door to about two feet in.

The office had, miraculously, not taken a drop. Still not sure how that worked.

We call the management company. We call insurance. I swear my ass off because Sean has to go to work, which means I'm stuck alone all day with the mess and a dog who does NOT understand why her paws keep getting wet.

Demo guys show up. They are very, very nice. By the time they're done on day one, there are two dehumidifiers and several large fans going in my house.

We don't have A/C by the way. And it's late June, and even in PDX, that's not great.

Three days later, the demo guys show back up to take out everything that can't be fixed. Our place looked like this:

Once they took all the wet out, we had this hole in our ceiling:

And were walking around on this floor:

That's the original cement floor that was put in when the house was built, by the way.

And then, we spent the ENTIRE SUMMER waiting for someone to FIX OUR FUCKING HOUSE. From the end of June until FUCKING SEPTEMBER we were living with an open ceiling and no actual floor.

I'd email the management company. I'd call. They'd say "Oh, we're working on it. The owner is dragging his feet."

Put a pin in that claim. We'll come back to it.

At the end of July, I ended that friendship I mentioned. I am using it as a measurement here so you understand that a month into my house being like this, I was also going through a massive emotionally fucked up situation.

Work was so fucking busy I nearly burned out. On top of trying to get some answers about when I was gonna get a fucking ceiling and floor again.

By August, I snapped and sent a terselye worded email about how it should not take this long to make some fucking decisions. I got back, "Oh, we're trying, but the owner isn't communicating with us."

Put a pin in that claim, too.

Finally. FINALLY. After FOUR contractors came and looked and gave estimates, we got told "Okay, we're gonna fix your place. In September. It'll take three weeks."

So, for three weeks, we moved into a hotel, and it was...it was fine. But it's not home, okay. I just wanted to be in my fucking house with a fucking ceiling and floor.

Finally, three weeks later, we moved back in, and we had a ceiling! And a floor!

And then I got what I thought was food poisoning. 48 hours of some of the worst pain I've ever had, and my endometriosis is severe enough I had a full hysterectomy at 31 or 32 (I honestly don't recall). Okay. I know from pain. Went to the doctor. Got an anti-nausea injection from the biggest needle I have ever seen in my LIFE. The doctor pushed on my gall bladder and asked if it hurt. I'd been continuously sick for 48 hours. Everything hurt. I said, in all honesty, I couldn't tell.

Went home. Rehydrated. Things seemed fine. They guessed it was my gall bladder anyway, and since I had no history of issues, said "Let's try to change your diet before we go through surgery."

Fine. Whatever. Didn't care.

A week later, in the first week of October, I ended up in the ER because I was sick again. So sick, in fact, I could not keep down apple juice. It took TWO DAYS to get a surgical spot. I went through caffeine withdrawal. The Try Guys released their video about firing Ned. All I wanted to do was go home to my finally fixed house and fucking sleep.

Surgery went fine. Had a full-room hallucination that Sean and I were Chucky and Tiffany from the Chucky movies. Kept telling Sean to kill the nurse so we'd get a larger cut of the money. This has never happened before, but I've also never been on Dilaudid for several days in a row to control my pain. Apparently, when that happens, I think I'm a serial killing doll.

Go home. Rest up. Things seem fine.

In November, I walk into the kitchen one day, look down, and see a space between two of the floorboards that should not be there.

I refuse to deal with it and throw a rug over it.

Over the next several months, more boards start bubbling and warping.

The floor, it appears, has some fucking issues.

I ignore it for almost a year. Yes, I know what you're thinking, "Gayle, why?"

Because 2022 was a fucking disaster, and a major part of it was the flood, and sometimes you just gotta avoid that shit, okay?

But, finally, it's bad enough I know I gotta say something. I send the management company a note. They send a guy. He's great. Says I'll hear back in a week.

I don't.

And then I don't.

And then the owner asks to inspect the property to see how things are looking.

He sees the floor and is shocked. This is not good. Why is it like this? How long has it been like this? When did I put in a maintenance request? And what was the last thing I heard?

This is November.

In December, we are informed via letter from the owner that he would like to be cc'ed on every request we send to the management company because he is not pleased with their performance.

Well, okay.

In January, we get a hard freeze. And then we got a pinhole leak in a pipe. That I discovered when walking into the kitchen and stepping into--you guessed it--a quarter-inch of water on the floor.

It was comin up from under the boards, but the hole was actually in our wall. We had glare ice. No one in PDX knows how to handle glare ice. The owner made the trip from the deep suburbs to us every day he could (he got stuck once) to get the problem fixed as quickly and neatly as possible.

I heard him on the phone with the management company several times explaining what he was doing, how long he thought it would take, and thanking them for communicating with us.

Which.

It took 4 days. I got one email. At 6:30 PM. On a day I heard him call them at 10 AM.

So. Suddenly "the owner isn't responding" and "the owner won't communicate" seem like complete fucking bullshit. Because he sure as hell responded when he found out there was a leak (we cc'ed him on the email as requested), and I fucking HEARD HIM communicate.

And then we found out that the owner had not had final say on the floor, which now had to be replaced not just for bubbling but for being fucking wrecked from NEW water damage.

But for this new floor, we just went through him, and would you look at that. Clear communication. Regular updates. We were on the concrete again for about three weeks because that's just how far out contractors are booking right now. But the work was done when he said it would be, and by god, it's clearly a much higher quality of flooring.

So. It's done. It's fucking done. It looks beautiful. The owner scrubbed our bathroom before he left for some fucking reason and was worried he'd lost the knob off our washing machine (we bought it used; it's never had that knob). When I met him the first time after the big leak, I thought he was a complete asshole, and it turns out he's actually all right. He gave us money for dinner this week and is also gonna get us a few days of rent comped for having to have people in and out. I'm never renting through this management company again, but if that dude's got other properties through someone else, I'd go there in a second.

April 5, 2024. May it be the last reference I ever have to make to a fucking floor repair in this house.

#personal #long post #story time #the fucking floor saga

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amane-by-together · 2 years

Text

school bag || teru minamoto

genre: fluff

pairing: teru minamoto x fem! reader

summary: in which teru and [name] went on a lunch date before classes start

author's note: based on the true story and my offering to the gods to bring back teru bc i miss him :') idc if u hate him ya all can unfollow me for liking him 😗💅

[Name] placed a hand on her cheek while twirling her pen as she listened to her teacher’s lecture. She crossed her legs, letting out a small sigh from her lips. All her teacher’s words start to sound slow and blurry because of how tired [Name] is—despite the morning sun, she still feels sleepy. [Name] was in verge of zoning out until she heard the school’s speaker’s announcement.

“Attention to all teachers, we will be having a meeting around 9:00 AM. All classes will be dismissed for today, students are now allowed to leave and come back after lunch, thank you.”

There was silence, then all of a sudden, majority of the class started to cheer at the early cancellation of the class. [Name] whispered a small ‘yes’ under her breath now that she can go home and do the things that she wanted to do. “[Name]-chan, are you going straight to home?” Yashiro asked as she already wore her school bag. “Or do you have other plans?”

“I can’t stay at school to clean Hanako’s bathroom since I’ll get shoo-ed off by teachers since the PA system deadass said that all students are allowed to leave.” [Name] explained, pretending to be sad that she won’t be able clean the bathroom for today, she’s sure that Hanako will understand unless he needed an explanation.

“Aren’t you supposed to borrow a book from the library?” Yashiro tilted her head in confusion. [Name] blinked for a couple of seconds, then putting a hand under her chin to think about it, and realizing that she needed to borrow a book from the library.

“Fuck—! It’s supposed to be my free day!” [Name] cussed.

“[Surname]-san, mind your language.”

“Sorry Sensei.” [Name] apologized before grabbing her bag from the side of her table. “I gotta go now Yashiro, you go ahead and go home—stay safe.” [Name] quickly told Yashiro as she quickly went to the library to borrow a book, which is about Rocket Science, something that she had been interested in after she took the key with a rocket keychain from the doors that lead to nowhere and everywhere.

[Name] ran to the library and went to the receptionist to ask for books related to Rocket Science. “Hmmm, I’m afraid that you needed to go to the old building department, most of the books are there. The library is still under renovation so until then, you have to go to the library by the other building.”

“Thank you…” [Name] bowed slightly. She opened the door and let out a frustrated sigh that she had to walk her way to the old building which is like a six minute walk since you have to cross the courtyard before reaching there. [Name] clutched her bag, trudging her way to the old building department. “Do I really have to go to the other building? Can’t they just comb through every bookshelf to get a damn book. Goddamn it.”

“[Surname]-san?”

[Name] flinched, thinking that it’s probably one of the student council patroling the hallways and that they caught her saying a cuss word, but it’s weird because every student should be home right now, unless? [Name] turned around to see Teru waving his hand with a kind smile on his face. “Minamoto-senpai? Eyow, what you doing here?”

“I was with my friends but then I spotted you from afar so I decided to excuse myself and stop by and say hi.” Teru explained while scratching his cheek sheepishly. [Name] nodded at his response, she doesn’t seem to mind it if her seniors approach her and it’s like a normal thing for her. “By the way, why are you heading to the old building department?” Teru bounced back the question to her.

[Name] explained to Teru that she needed to borrow a book from the library so she first went to the newly established library to the new building but they lacked source materials and they are currently under renovation and that she was recommended to go check by the old building. “But it’s tiring to go there to be honest. You should probably head home by now, I bet Kou-kun is worried sick right now.”

“Don’t worry, I told him that I will be going home soon.” Teru reassured [Name]. “Are you heading home after getting your book?” Teru bent down a little to take a better look at [Name] since she was shorter than him, which he thinks it’s cute, as they start to walk their way to the old building.

“I mean since we have to go back after lunch, I guess I could stay home for a little bit.” [Name] shrugged in reply. She and Teru already established the friendship level after that late night incident where they both encountered each other in front of the convenience store and talked about themselves while making candy by the park. “It’ll be boring if I stay in school for three hours waiting for my classmates to come back.”

Teru stopped walking which made [Name] halt as well. She turned to look at the blonde haired male next to her. “Is there something up, Minamoto-senpai?” [Name] asked, getting slightly concerned as to why he randomly stood still. Teru needed to tell his true intentions as to why he approached [Name] in the first place and this is only his one in a million chance to do so before it won’t happen again.

“I can come with you to get your book…” Teru reached over to scratch the back of his head. [Name]’s eyes widened a bit as a small blush appeared on her cheeks. Teru gulped, looking away from [Name] as he continued. “And if you don’t mind, wanna go out and eat lunch together? Just the two of us?” This sounded more like Teru is asking her out on a date—and out of all girls, he just asked [Name] and it shocked her.

Yashiro will be needing all the details of their date if [Name] agreed to come with Teru. Aoi will be happy for [Name] because first, the most popular guy in school asked her friend out on a date, and second of all she’s a sucker for romance like Yashiro. [Name] cleared her throat to cut herself from her train of thought, thinking about possible ways to avoid this scenario because she felt guilty if she were to accept his offer and there’s like a hundred of fangirls who wanted to be in her shoes.

“But like, I don’t think I have any money left if we were to go out to eat lunch since this is for school purposes.” [Name] winced. “Plus I owe you one for helping me from that creepy guy on the convenience store and even paid for my things.”

“I never said you will be paying for this one.”

[Name] was caught off guard. “Ha? No way—you’re serious? You’re going to treat me lunch…?” Teru stiffled a laugh at her reaction, nodding that he was serious about it and that he was not bluffing. There was wind that passed by which carried the strands of [Name]’s hair a bit as she smiled at Teru. “Alright then—but make sure it won’t be far.”

“We’re just going to a nearby fast food restaurant, don’t worry.”

“Okay, now let’s go to the library to claim my book, then we can head to the fast food restaurant to eat lunch and if we have time left, we should go to the library to stay for a while, I have a quiz later.” [Name] slumped her shoulders with a sluggish laugh, if only the whole day was cancelled but they have to come back after lunch to continue classes.

Teru laughed as well. “I’m sure you’ll do well later.”

“Thanks.” [Name] gave him a closed eye grin. Teru’s heart skipped a beat. For the record, he was quite nervous considering that this situation looked like a date rather than a hang out as he wished to engrave in his mind. He was the one with the lack of experience and [Name] went through a few dates with Souho back when they were still together.

“Is your bag heavy?” Teru asked while pointing at the bag that [Name] is carrying.

“Well—it’s heavy not gonna lie.” [Name] showed her school bag.

Teru held out his hand. “I’ll carry it for you.” [Name]’s heart is definitely doing flips of joy right now because she’s experiencing every fangirl with a heavy bag’s lifelong dream which is for someone to carry their bag. And this type of stuffs happen in romance animes and kdramas. She gave her bag to Teru for him to carry as they entered the old building department.

They went for the second floor since that’s where the entrance of the library is located. [Name] had a quick flashback about her discovering the 4PM Bookstacks in order to find out Hanako without having to ask him about it. “Minamoto-senpai, is it okay if I go ahead? You can wait for me here.”

“Sure, I’ll be waiting outside.” Teru told her. [Name] entered the library to borrow a book while Teru, on the other hand, was strolling around the area checking his phone every ten seconds. [Name] went outside with a big smile on her face, waving the book at Teru. “You’re quick, [Surname]-san.” He praised.

“Yeah finally—since I’m the only one in line anyways.” [Name] sighed in relief.

“Then, shall we go?” Teru gestured to the other direction which leads to the exit of the old building. [Name] nodded in agreement since she was getting hungry. The two went outside the gates of the Academy on their way to a nearby fast food restaurant. “So…have you ever been on a date?”

“Hmm, yeah I had.” [Name] replied. “But it was with my ex for the first three dates—then a movie date from a certain guy, how about you?” Teru sweatdropped, must be nice to be in a date, he was always busy with student council work and exorcism to the point that he almost had no time for himself and that’s why he’s missing out a lot.

“I never been to a date…” Teru embarrassingly admitted. “Unless you consider what we are doing is going on a date.” He mumbled—but [Name] heard him loud and clear.

“So, is this a date then?” [Name] leaned forward with a slightly teasing smile on her face.

Teru inched away with an obvious blush on his face. “Maybe?”

[Name] giggled. “Let this be your first one.” Teru may be calm right now but he’s feeling butterflies and his cheeks warming up so he covered that up with a soft smile on his face. When they arrived at the fast food restaurant, they placed their things on the table and sat down.

“I’ll order for us.” Teru gave [Name] a quick wave before he went to the counter to order their food. [Name] pulled out her phone to play some games to pass the time, until she made a big mistake by turning to her side. It was an old lady, but she was familiar because she lived in [Name]’s neighborhood. [Name] internally panicked so she quickly disguised herself so that the old lady won’t recognize her.

‘I didn’t expect her to be here! I’ll be fucked up if that old lady recognized me and she will tell my mom that she spotted me on a date and then she’ll question me as to why I didn’t tell her and I’ll be doomed for eternity, the thing with Souho is already a high blow for her what more if I’m eating lunch with my senior.’

“I’m back~!” Teru cheerfully sat down next to her after placing down their order which is weird, isn’t he supposed to be sitting in front of her, but it’s fine anyways at least he’s covering her from the old lady’s vision. “Are you okay [Surname]-san? You seem to be paranoid.”

“Oh, don’t worry—I’m just letting my guard up, who knows some student from Kamome Academy might spot us and create an issue about us and that ‘Minamoto-senpai’s crush is from the Astronomy Club’ is gonna happen again.” [Name] explained, half of them is true but she’s more worried about the old lady by the neighboring table. [Name] gestured Teru to come closer to whisper something to him. “There’s an old lady next to us and she’s quite familiar and that’s why I’m hiding.”

Teru glanced to his side, then turned to look at [Name]. “[Surname]-san, the table next to us is empty.” He simply said.

“Eyow—what the fuck?!” [Name] blinked once she saw that the old lady that was on the other table was now gone like a popped bubble. “I swear, she was there before!” [Name] tried to explain. Teru only chuckled at her panicked attitude which he found it adorable.

“Maybe you’re seeing things that I can’t see~” Teru cooed.

“Whatever, at least I don’t have to hide anymore.” [Name] took a scoop of her ice cream and ate it gratefully. Teru chuckled as he started to eat his food. [Name] and Teru had a couple of conversations during lunch until they finished up their food. “Waaah—I feel so full.” [Name] remarked while stretching her limbs.

“[Surname]-san, look at me.”

[Name]’s heart was about to leap out from her chest at the sudden command. Teru tilted his head on the side as he leaned in to take a closer look at her. [Name] quickly whipped her head away from Teru as she proceeded to wipe her lips. “Let’s go back now.” So [Name] and Teru took their belongings as they walked back to Kamome Academy and they’re just in time because students are just entering the school.

Teru was still carrying [Name]’s bag, this is starting to look like the two of them are going out but then again nobody cared as they continued heading to their classes. [Name] and Teru chuckled at their oblivion as they headed to the library to review for their upcoming lessons. “[Surname]-san, if you’re going to study, put away your phone.” Teru smiled as he tried to take [Name]’s phone.

“Ehhh, I need my phone.”

“Do you really need your phone in a daily basis.”

“Of course—!”

Teru covered his mouth to chuckle. “You’re really cute, [Surname]-san.” [Name] tried to tell him not to blurt out cheesy words because she is easily flustered but then Teru proceeded to tease her because of it.

“Minamoto-senpai…I swear…” [Name] covered her face with her palms.

“Which reminds me, I have to go back to the Student Council room, I’m sure the others are there by now.” Teru stood up from his chair but then [Name] grabbed his sleeve. He slowly turned to look at [Name], who was now smiling shyly at him. “[Surname]-san?”

“Can you stay here for a little bit? I mean—don’t go, my classmates aren’t even here yet.” Teru’s heart skipped a beat, [Name] looked so adorable begging him not to go, not what you think of course. This school crush of his is making his feelings go haywire because out of all girls in Kamome Academy, why does he have to be crushing on [Name]?

Teru couldn’t simply say no, so he obliged. “Why not come with me to the Student Council room, you can stay there as long as you like.”

“I mean, sure.” [Name] agreed. The two teens went downstairs to the first floor to exit the library, and Teru is still carrying [Name]’s bag. Along the way, they chatted for a while that is until when [Name] reached for the door, Akane was there to reach for it too. “Tomato Head?!”

“Aoi-kun?—“ Teru added with a hint of confusion as to why the Vice President of the Student Council is right in front of them. Akane stared at them, trying to connect the dots as to why the two of them are together.

Akane coughed, gesturing to at the bag that Teru’s carrying. “So it’s [Surname]-san, huh President?”

“It’s not what it looks like—!” [Name] tried to explain the situation. “He’s just carrying my bag because it’s heavy!”

“Then why are you two together?”

“Because we had lunch together.” Teru smiled forcefully. “Now Aoi-kun, meet me back in the Student Council room and we’ll have a nice discussion about it.” Teru threatened Akane, then he switched the mood by smiling as he gave the bag back to [Name]. “By the way [Surname]-san, thank you for today—good luck on your quiz later~”

“Thanks~!”

omake:

“Have you heard? That if you carried someone’s bag, you’ll end up with that person for the rest of your life…at least that’s what I heard.” Aoi told the girls the week after [Name] and Teru had lunch together. Many students have been carrying each other’s bags, mostly the girls wanted the boys to carry their heavy bags. “I wonder who started the rumor…”

[Name] flinched. “Bruh—Minamoto-senpai just carried my bag and now everyone’s doing it? What the actual crumbs—?”

#tbhk #jibaku shounen hanako kun #toilet bound hanako kun #jshk #teru minamoto #minamoto teru #jshk teru #tbhk teru #teru x reader #minamoto teru x reader

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