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estrellayluna · 15 days

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In another life

Nanami Kento

Synopsis : You promised yourself that you wouldn’t have the same unfortunate fate that your mother had gone through with love. Until your whole world comes crumbling down discovering your husband’s infidelity. Through tears and heartbreak you recall your mothers last words.

(We all know he would never!!) (please check out link once you see it for visuals!!!)

One text message from an unsaved number. One simple message was the reason your whole world came crumbling down in just seconds.

It was vile. The photo. It seemed as if whoever took the photo was in a rush to capture it. A little blurred in some spots but you could immediately make out what it depicted.

Your husband, Nanami having his arms wrapped around a waist of another woman just steps away from his desk. Whoever the woman was, her head was slightly tilted looking up at him with a smile on her face. Arms loosely wrapped around his shoulder blades.

At a loss for words and seemingly unaware the breaths you were holding in, the sudden ache you felt in your chest was growing deeper. Tears forming just before multiple escaping your eyes.

You didn’t want to believe it, but how could you not? The moment you felt the ache in your chest you knew.

4 months earlier

The sounds of monitors and footsteps were faint outside the door of your mothers hospital room. The room’s television on low volume as you peel a bright colored orange.

It has been a while coming but your mothers health has been declining since the last attempt of hope with needed surgery. But unfortunately to no avail.

And as much as you wished for your mother to keep fighting she finally made the decision to leave this world in peace. No more mustering up the little strength she had left to the annoyance of appointments or the continuous failed improvements.

So you devoted your time to spend as much time with your mother as you could.

“How is Nanami doing (Y/N),” your mother asks in a soft voice while looking over to you “he hasn’t come along with you for the past 3 weeks or so. Is everything alright?”

Finally finished with peeling the orange and setting it down you smiled at her, “he’s doing fine mom, just busy at work these days. He actually got promoted up at his office job a few days ago.” You tell her with a smile on your face.

Your mother slightly gasps with joy, clasping your hands with yours she beams.

“I’m so happy to hear that, I’m sure the both of you will continue to live a nice peaceful life together. He’s a good man darling, I’ll be able to leave this world in peace knowing you’ll be well taken care of.”

You smile at her words, a pang of joy and sadness.

Your mother was a single mother raising you all on her own. Your father was in the picture up until the age 11. From then on his visits were some and then eventually no more.

Though you didn’t hate him, you grew up more focused on the fact of trying your best to be a good daughter. Not causing too much stress to your mother.

Your father was your mothers first and only love. Only as time passed by, he became unfaithful. Your mother immediately took action into trying to become the best mother she can be with the so little she had. You grew up to promise yourself you refuse to let the same happen to you. To not let this curse that your father casted upon your mother trickle down to you.

“(Y/N), do you want to know why I always called you my little star,” you mother brings up. you can tell she was growing tired some.

8:30 pm

Visiting hours will end soon.

You hum in response, smoothing out the blanket that lays just between you two.

“Because moths always look for light in the darkness. You are my light and star (Y/N). I will forever be grateful to have had you as my daughter.”

Before visiting hours came to an end your head falls onto her lap, tears streaming down as her hands strokes your hair.

Moths look for the light in the darkness

Everything you had planned for, promised yourself and your mother was eradicated. You wanted to scream. To make a mess of everything in this home you two shared.

But you can only frown at the thought of your mother disapproving those actions.

You had no idea what to do.

More importantly, what to do with the hidden pregnancy test you tucked away inside your side of the dresser.

Wiping your tears away, headed towards your shared room you look for the test.

You tried to recall when it must have all changed. Was it when Nanami was promoted at work that he was moved to the upper level of the office building?

You recall the first couple of times you stopped by to deliver him lunch that he had forgotten.

The atmosphere was not as welcoming as his previous position. You had felt out of place when just simply asking for your husband at the front desk.

Rummaging through your belongings looking for the damn test you heard the front door open to your apartment.

8:45 pm

Though it was somewhat late, you hadn’t expect him to arrive just yet.

You froze, not sure of anything anymore.

A part of you wanted to confront him, and the other part of you just wanted to be comforted, to be told it was a fake. Absolutely anything else other than being told it was true.

Is this the end?

Finally spotting the pregnancy test you sat down in the corner of the king size bed. Holding the pregnancy test close to you, but hidden from anyone else’s view.

You hadn’t bothered to put all the clothing that fell from your frantic digging back inside.

So when Nanami walked in your shared bedroom, it was the first thing he saw.

“What the hell happened in here?” Nanami sighed placing his briefcase aside the room.

Nanami noticed your lack on response and the fact you weren’t facing him.

“I didn’t intend to have you find out like this (Y/N),” your eyes slightly widen in shock. Nanami brought his left hand to sooth the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t know who must have sent that photo to you. And I don’t intend to let that person have the satisfaction of knowing it actually got to you. Though I do have a few people in mind.” Nanami headed towards the closet to find a more comfortable to change into.

If you didn’t think your heart was beating, his lack of empathy causes your heart to break into a million pieces.

How could he be so calm about this..

“Why Nanami,” your voice trembles, your heart beating faster than ever “what caused this to happen?”

Nanami now finally walked towards you, trying to clasp your hands into yours you refuse to budge. The test tightly protected in your hands unbeknownst to him.

Nanami sighs again with a tight stern look on his face. Knowing there’s no longer any chance you’ll be able to come back from it all.

“When your mother passed away you became a shell of yourself (Y/N). It was easy in the beginning to be there for you. But it eventually turned into mindless sex as an escape for you. I did not want to hurt your decisions into avoiding the reality of losing your mother. If you hadn’t ignored your grief,” Nanami continues while taking off his glasses and watch setting them aside, glancing at your reflection at the mirror in front of him. Your eyes finally met “perhaps I could have better helped you understand (Y/N).”

“Who is she? Is she a coworker of yours?” At Nanamis confession, you felt numb. All the anger and sadness you felt dissipated. You wanted nothing more now than to go to sleep and dream of your mom comforting you and feel her hand stroke your hair again even for a mere moment inside your unconscious mind.

“Her name is Kuina. She was employed just a month into when your mother passed,” Nanami turned around to face you, leaning against the drawer head turned slightly down, arms crossed “I didn’t think I would have ever been one to end up doing such a thing (Y/N). I’m sorry.”

‘I’m sorry’

Nanami walked out into the living room closing the door behind him.

6 years ago

“Mom are you alright?” Walking into your moms room seeing her working on paper work for your grandmother. Gathering information about her as needed for the funeral home to work on her death certificate.

Your mom looked frantic and tired. Noting the atmosphere felt different, “hey mom, where’s Karube?” Your mom looked up at you putting up a brave face.

“Karube and I are no longer together (Y/N). He and I just realized we weren’t a match really. No need to worry.”

Karube ended up cheating on my mother around the same time my grandmother passed away.

Not only did you fail in keeping that promise you made yourself all those years ago.

You failed your mom too.

Hearing the faint sounds of the television being turned on just outside the living room, you tried your best to muffle your cries as it all eventually settled inside of you.

‘You were my light in times of darkness’

Hugging yourself to sleep, it didn’t take long as your cries settled you down.

It’s been a week since everything was brought to light. And just 3 days ago you were met with a few documents settled on the main wooden table of the home.

Divorce papers

You sigh with stress laced within. You avoided even looking through everything until the night before your first appointment with your doctor.

Frantically filing everything down, deciding on stopping by Nanamis office before heading to your doctors to drop off the paperwork.

Your walk to Nanamis workplace wasn’t how it was before. Your gentle smiles while walking is now replaced by a neutral toned face. The warmth of the sun is no longer a lovely feeling but a sticky hot feeling all over your body.

You hated to be a burden at such a young age. That night, after Nanamis confession you held out on telling him.

Guilt swept over you as you realized how tragic it all is.

This baby wasn’t due to the love you both have for each other, at least not anymore. It’s due to your wanting to escape from your grief.

Oh how your mother would be saddened.

Walking up to Nanamis now private office, trying your best to keep your head held high. You noticed that some look over at you knowing the gossip that had gone around. And others who seem to not care at all. You were silently grateful for the few.

Reaching his office, you knocked twice. Looking over your shoulder to see few of his fellow colleagues quickly look away from you as if they weren’t popping their eyes at the front seat view they had.

You let yourself in once you heard an approval from the other side.

Whispers soon ensued as the door closed behind you.

Nanami was looking over paperwork at his desk, eyebrows furrowed in whatever god knows what he deals with nowadays.

“I came to drop off the divorce paper work Kento.” Stating as you walk up his desk, your soft footsteps and his quick writing with pen hitting his paper being the silence breaker between the two of you.

Nanami drops his pen on his desk and looks up at you.

The tall windows of his office gently illuminated your face, earrings softly shimmering and pieces of your hair fall front of your face framing a delicate balance to your face.

‘You became a shell of yourself’

You didn’t try to improve your appearance just for him. Matter of fact you did it for yourself. You refused to let his words eat your self conscious.

Plus, your mother always told you how important it is to be presentable to the public. Not for the approval of others but for your own self.

Handing him the folder, your hands softly brush against each others.

Keeping your calm composure, you stood straight ready to turn around and leave.

“(Y/N)-“ Nanami starts but you had cut him off.

“I plan to leave the apartment soon Kento. If approved in just days time, you need not worry about me being in that place anymore,” you ushered as to turn around once again “have a good day Kento.”

Pushing his office doors to open and leave this place once and for all, you open the doors to Kuina waiting just outside the doors.

You should have known his office colleagues were just as wanting to know what must have been discussed behind the closed doors.

As your eyes met Kuina’s, all you had left in you was a smile.

Just as the doors of his office completely closed, Nanami caught a glance at the exchange.

Deep down inside he knew he had caused enough pain when all you did was smile at her.

As the elevator descends to the lower floors of the building it stopped just below the floor that Nanami once was.

As people come in and go, a tall man with white hair and circular dark navy shades shuffled his way to your side as the elevator doors close descending back down once again.

Wood scents, with a note of eucalyptus

You’re familiar with this scent of the man standing next to you. It’s nothing new. Besides you’re fond of the scent. Nothing extreme from what you’ve come across before. Men and their obnoxious amount of sprays.

So you weren’t so sure as to why the man’s scent next to you caused you to almost gag out loud inside the cramp elevator.

Catching your action swiftly your hand goes up to cover your mouth, catching the attention of the tall white haired man.

Looking down at you he asks “you alright miss?”

The elevator finally opens to the first floor and you quickly nod as you try to quickly get out.

“Woah I’m sorry! Was it my doing? Do I smell bad today?” The man looks in disbelief and quite embarrassed.

“No no no,” you try to apologize for your actions “it was actually just me! Im sensitive to smells at the moment.” You tried to explain in embarrassment.

As people continue to pass by the man shyly smile at you, his cheeks turned slightly blushed.

“I apologize then Miss…” he trails off, smiling back once again you introduced yourself “(Y/N) (L/N).”

“Nice to meet you (L/N), I’m Gojo Satoru.”

12:44 pm

My appointment is soon, but almost gagging earlier has given me anxiety. What if I can’t make it in time?

It was like if the man you just met sense your urgency and asked if things are alright.

“Oh thank you for the offer, but I’m fine I can go on my own!” You exclaimed as you start to walk towards the front entrance.

The white haired man caught up to you once again before beaming at you with a flashy smile of his

“No worries (L/N), I don’t mind!”

Looking down at the time you realized perhaps it would be best. You were anxious all week once you made your appointment for the doctors.

Looking around your surroundings before finally agreeing, you smiled back up at him thanking him.

You thought you’d follow him to the parking structure but his car was pulled up by the valet.

As the valet driver approached to open your door, Gojo reassured him letting himself open the door for you. Thanking him before settling inside his car, he was walking over to the drivers side.

Gojo looked up feeling a stare burn behind him, before driving away.

Y’all idk where this one is going either y’all were supposed to die & be sad.

Part 2? Idk either

(Not proofread I’ve been typing 3 hours straight.)

#nanami x y/n #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #nanami angst #gojo angst #jjk kento #nanami fluff

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guess-my-next-obsession · 1 year

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Elementary, Chapter Four

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x teacher!reader

chapter rating: E (18+ ONLY, oral (fem rec), unprotected piv, dirty talk??, unedited/unbeta’d)

word count: 4.3k

series masterlist | joel masterlist

“Alright, everybody. Please remember to fill out your reading log during the break,” you talked over a room full of distracted tweens excited for the upcoming Spring Break. “Am I talking to air?”

“I hear you,” Sarah answered your question as she approached your desk, her backpack slung over her shoulder. “And I wanted to apologize for last Friday. I was having a bad day and Jessie was making a big deal about me leaving the sleepover—“

“Sarah, sweetheart, you don’t need to apologize,” you assured with a kind smile. “Have you talked to Jessie?”

“Yeah, dad took me over to her house on Sunday night and we talked it out. I guess she was offended by me leaving, but I explained to her that I just get anxious sometimes and can’t—“ She sighed. “It just feels better being at home with my dad. I don’t have to try to be funny or cool or whatever.”

You smiled at the tenderness of Joel and Sarah’s bond.

“But anyways,” she continued. “My dad wanted me to ask if you were busy tonight—he still hasn’t gotten a new cellphone which, if you’re wondering, is why he’s having me act as the messenger.”

“Isn’t he coming to pick you up today?”

“No, him and Uncle Tommy are in San Antonio meeting with a developer or something like that,” she informed. “My grandma is picking me up.”

“Oh, well, you can tell your dad I’m free like always,” you chuckled and tried not to think about the fact that as today’s parking lot attendee, you’d have to come face to face with the mother of the man you’d been casually seeing for three weeks now. “Oh, and tell him he needs to get a new phone so you don’t have to play messenger anymore.”

“Trust me, we’ll probably be waiting years until he finally breaks down and gets himself one.” The two of you shared a laugh.

“In that case—“ You jotted your landline and cellphone number on a post-it note. “Here.”

“Miss? My mom wanted me to let you know that I won’t be doing any of my reading logs this week,” another student approached your desk and very sassily delivered his news. You chuckled out a scoff and fixed your attention on him while Sarah went back to her desk.

“Okay, Michael, why won’t you be doing your reading logs?” You crossed your arms over your chest and waited for his response.

“Because it’s Spring Break,” he defended.

“Yes, I’m aware. That’s why I didn’t assign any homework. All you need to do is keep reading at least a chapter a day of your book—“

“I don’t want to read my book. That’s basically homework.”

You gave him an incredulous look as you tried to gather what little patience remained in you after a long year of teaching fifth graders.

“No, Michael. Homework is what Mrs. Hill gave her students—a packet a day. What I’m asking if you is to do what you’re already supposed to be doing—reading a chapter a day of whatever book you want. That’s not homework, that’s just an activity.”

“Well, I’m not doing it.” He remained firm, mimicking your stance by crossing his arms over his chest.

The bell ringing interrupted whatever onslaught of frustration you were just about to bestow upon him, his smug smirk boiling your blood as he turned and shuffled out of class.

“Have a good break,” you called out to the rest of your students as they shuffled out of the classroom in a single file line.

“Hey,” Joel sighed out his greeting as he entered his mother and father’s ranch home on the outskirts of Austin. Sarah was sat in the living room on the floral loveseat covered in plastic while her grandfather, Paul, sat in his rocking chair fast asleep.

“How did it go?” Sarah offered him a smile as he rounded the corner of the loveseat to plop down beside her.

“Went alright,” he replied. “Got a good chunk of jobs lined up for me and the guys, so we’ll be good on work ‘til the end of the year.”

“That’s good!” She beamed, bringing a hesitant smile to her father’s face. Joel never liked to celebrate his successes—something he likely learned from his father. “Oh,” she tapped his arm as she remembered your conversation from earlier, quickly informing him about your lack of plans for tonight. “She also gave me her number to give to you.”

Joel watched as Sarah fished the note out of her pocket before handing over the crumpled up piece of paper.

“You think she’s home yet?” Joel checked his watch.

“Dunno,” she shrugged. “But grandma was talking about all of us going out for dinner tonight.”

“Oh, was she?” Joel looked disappointed by the sudden emergence of plans when he spent all day hoping that tonight would be spent just with you.

“Joel?” Mary, Joel’s mother, came walking down the stairs with a smile. “Bout time you came to see us.”

“I’m busy with the new company, ma, you know that,” he argued as he stood up to greet her, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Busy with the company or with your new lady friend?” she teased with a grin. Joel whipped his eyes over to his daughter who already held her hands up in defense.

“My bad.”

Joel chuckled out a scoff before turning back to his mother. “It’s new.”

“And? That’s all you gotta say about her?”

“To you. For now.” Joel followed her into the kitchen, Sarah trailing shortly behind.

“What do you think I’m gonna do? Hunt her down and force her to look at your baby book?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he retorted with a mischievous smile.

“Joel Miller, I swear if you do not give me at least a summary of this woman—“

“Alright, alright,” Joel sighed and looked to Sarah who was beaming with amusement. “She’s Sarah’s teacher. We met at a parent/teacher conference. She’s…nice.”

“Nice?” Both women repeated the descriptor as if it was an insult.

“Dad, you’re basically in love. I’m sure you can find a better word than nice,” Sarah reasoned.

“She is nice. Everything else is private,” he argued.

“Well, I guess we’ll find out at dinner tonight,” his mother shrugged with a smirk. Joel turned wild in the eyes and shook his head.

“No, no, no. She ain’t—y’all aren’t—no.”

Sarah laughed at her dad’s fluster and looped her arm around his waist hug him. “It’ll be okay, pops. Just breathe.”

“Oh, to hell with that,” Joel shook his head again, turning to his mother. “I haven’t even taken her out for a real dinner yet, ma. I’m not invitin’ her out to deal with y’all.”

“Deal with? Son, we are as civilized as anybody else—“

“Ma, you got a plunger? I clogged the damn toilet!” Tommy shouted from upstairs and Joel gestured in his direction as though to prove his point.

“Well not here. We’re in the comfort of our own home,” she defended as she made her way out of the kitchen to help her son. “She’s comin’ tonight! Better go on and call her up.”

“Christ,” he sighed and stomped over to the landline, his scowl fixed on Sarah as he dialed the number. “If she never speaks to us again, it’s on you.”

“She’ll love us.”

Although it wasn’t what you were expecting for the night, Joel’s call to invite you out to dinner with his family was impossible to decline just due to how much you missed him. Even if you turned into a ball of nerves every time you had to meet “the parents”, it was worth it just to be in the same room with him, especially after the day you had.

At seven, Joel, Sarah, and Tommy came to pick you up, but for once it was you running late. You invited them inside to wait while you finished getting ready, handing Sarah the TV remote and watching as her and Tommy instantly started bickering over what to watch while Joel followed you into your bedroom.

“How is this the first time I’ve ever been in your room?” He found a seat on the foot of your bed while you sat at your vanity, finishing up on taming your hair.

“Because I’m old fashioned,” you turned back to give him a wink. “But also because I can’t seem to get you alone long enough to give you a proper tour.”

“I know,” he sighed and walked over to you, standing behind you. He leaned down to kiss your cheek, the warmth and softness of his lips curing something that had been aching inside of you since the last time he kissed you. “I made a deal with my mom. She watches Sarah this weekend, and I suck it up and allow you to meet my chaotic family.”

“Mm, so I get you all weekend is what you’re saying?” You smirked at him through the mirror.

“All. Damn. Weekend.” He kissed your neck as a promise, your eyes fluttering closed as you relished in his proximity. “No interruptions. Just me and you.”

“S-sounds good,” you stuttered through your haze of lust and Joel smiled against your skin, seemingly amused by his effect on you.

“You got chills,” he rasped, his fingertips trailing up and down your arm. “That all me?”

“Just wait until you see what else you do to me,” you purred back, earning a groan of desperation.

“You two done yet?” Tommy called out from the living room. “We got places to be.”

“Save that thought for after dinner,” Joel mumbled against your cheek as he gave you one more kiss.

Five or so minutes later and you were on your way to the restaurant, nerves now replacing the butterflies you felt in your stomach as you thought about what his parents would be like. If they were anything like Tommy, Sarah, and Joel, you had nothing to worry about, but it was the uncertainty that drove you mad.

“You alright?” Joel stayed back with you as you pretended to have forgotten something in the truck, Tommy and Sarah heading into the restaurant to meet up with Joel’s parents.

“Just nervous,” you shrugged with a soft smile. “Anything I should avoid bringing up?”

“Politics. My dad’s a big Republican, so,” he winced. “But my mom is about as liberal as they come, so at least there’s that.”

“So I should stick to talking to your mom, then,” you joked.

“Come on,” he nudged his head towards the restaurant and laced his fingers with yours. “I’ll be right there next to ya, and as soon as we’re done with dinner it’ll be just us all weekend.”

You took a deep breath of courage and gave him a cheeky but bashful smile, bringing a similar one to his own face.

“God, I just can’t help myself—“ Joel cupped your cheek and tilted your head up to meet him as he leaned in for a surprising kiss, your hand finding purchase on his wrist to ground yourself.

“Mm,” you hummed as you pulled away from him earlier than he would’ve liked. “Let’s not stall anymore. Don’t want your mom to think I’m a bad influence.”

“She knows me well enough to know I’m the bad influence, but alright,” he tugged you off towards the restaurant with your hand in his.

As the hostess guided you through the busy dining room, you leaned further into Joel. He didn’t seem to mind the clinginess, his hand letting go of yours so that he could slide an arm around your waist.

“There y’all are!” A stout woman you presumed to be Joel’s mother stood up from the table where the rest of the Millers were seated, a big, dimpled grin on her face that resembled Joel’s.

“Ma,” Joel introduced the two of you by name, his eyes fixed on you as you shook her hand and allowed her to seat you beside her rather than next to Joel like you’d hoped. You gave Joel a nervous look from across the table as he sat himself directly across from you beside his father.

“It is so nice to meet you, sweetheart,” Mary fixed her attention on you. “Joel’s been pretty tight lipped about ya, so why don’t you tell me a little about yourself.”

“Well,” you chuckled nervously, but Joel’s reassuring eyes from across the table helped calm the frenzy of anxiety coursing through your veins. “I’m a teacher, have been for a few years now but this is my second year in Austin.”

You found it surprisingly easy to talk to Mary, her warm smile and sense of humor similar to that of her children and granddaughter. You told her where you grew up, where you’d been before coming to Austin, about what you liked to do in your free time, but mostly you told her the story of how you and Joel came to be.

Across the table, his father continued to remain stern and silent, only mumbling to his boys or to Sarah every now and again to remind them to use their manners. He seemed like a tough egg to crack, and while you were up for the challenge eventually, earning his respect today seemed unlikely.

“Joel, you ever tell her about your singin’?” Tommy spoke up from down the table, his question bringing a blush to Joel’s face.

“Yeah, I mentioned it.” He looked over to you and cracked the most subtle of smirks, no doubt remembering what occurred shortly after.

“Well, you gonna sing for her?” Mary asked with mischief in her tone, bringing an amused smile to your face.

“Not here,” he sassed, tilting his head at her mockingly.

“Why not here?” You prodded with a smirk, your foot finding his calf beneath the table. Joel gave you a chuckle and shook his head. “Oh, come on. Please?”

“Ya know, I pride myself on my ability to not cave into peer pressure,” he retorted with a quirked eyebrow, daring you to challenge him. You bit your lip and looked down at your plate, too flustered by everything him to look him in the eyes—especially given the current company.

“So, Sarah, how are you likin’ the whole dad datin’ your teacher thing?” Tommy asked, and the question earned the attention of the entire table.

“I don’t mind it,” she shrugged. “Maybe I would if it was Mrs. Clarkson from last year.”

“God,” Joel shook his head at the mere idea. “That woman terrified me and I’m a grown man.”

“Oh,” Sarah called your name. “Did you tell dad about Michael?”

“Michael? Who’s…uh, who’s Michael?” Joel’s jealousy was as clear as day, bringing amused grins to almost everyone’s faces aside from the ever stoic Mr. Miller.

“Michael is my student,” you clarified and eased his concern. “A shitty student at that.”

“Oh yeah?” Tommy asked with a chuckle.

“Yeah, he’s—well, I guess I probably shouldn’t be saying this around you, Sarah.”

“I promise I won’t talk about it,” she replied earnestly and you easily caved.

“He is just the absolute worst. And his parents are even shittier,” you lamented with a laugh. “Today he came up to me while Sarah and I were talking at the end of class, and flat out told me that he wasn’t going to be doing the reading log during the break because his mom said so.”

“Why doesn’t he just fake it like everybody else?” Tommy chimed in but quickly received an elbow from his niece.

“I don’t fake my reading logs,” she corrected.

“Yeah…right.” He gave her a sarcastic nod and turned back to you. “I’m just speaking from experience. I never did any of that shit and I turned out…well, I turned out decent.”

“Yeah. Maybe I am being too demanding,” you shrugged, turning back to your plate.

“No,” Joel was quick to interject. “Don’t listen to Tommy—he couldn’t even get into community college. You’re the one who went to school for six years to do this. You know what you’re doin’, that kid’s just a prick.”

You couldn’t help but fall in love with him a little bit as he stood up for you, his foot pressed to yours beneath the table acting as a sort of promise that he’d always be here to do this—to remind you of your worth.

“Thank you,” you mouthed just to him. “Anyways, it’s his loss—and yours too, Tommy. Reading is fun.”

Tommy mimicked your smile and chuckled. “I guess I’ll take your word for it.”

“Alright, don’t give your grandma a hard time,” Joel ordered Sarah as he hugged her goodbye in the driveway outside your house.

You watched the scene from the doorway, smiling at the way he swayed her and kissed the top of her head. If only all little girls could grow up with a father like Joel—not flawless, but as close to it as a man could get. There was no denying his love for her and vice versa, and the fact that you were being let into this beautiful family felt like nothing less than an honor.

“Alright, go on,” he ruffled the top of her hair with a playful grin. “I love ya, and I’ll see you Sunday night, alright?”

“Love you too,” she gave him one more hug before turning to you standing up the walkway. With a wave, she wished you goodbye as well, your smile widening at the gesture. “See you!”

“See ya, Sarah!”

Joel met you by the front door and watched Tommy and Sarah pull out of your driveway before he turned to you with an anticipatory grin.

“Well, just us now,” he husked, playfulness thick in his southern drawl.

“Whatever will we do?” you teased, hooking your fingers in his belt loops and tugging him closer.

Joel cradled your cheek and jaw with both hands as he leaned down to kiss you, both of you still wearing your grins through it. Walking you backwards into the house, you giggled into his mouth as you nearly stumbled over before he caught you.

“Clumsy,” he accused in a rasp.

“Your fault,” you countered and he laughed against you.

Joel’s hands traveled to your hips to keep you flush against him as he kicked the front door shut, your smiles fading as the kiss deepened into something so filthy even the humor of the almost-fall couldn’t penetrate it.

“God,” he groaned against your lips as he continued walking you through the living room to your bedroom. “I want you so bad, baby girl. Fuck.”

“Remember what we were talking about earlier?” you purred against his jaw as your kisses trailed down to his neck, Joel’s body pinning you against your open bedroom door. He hummed against you in confirmation and you smiled, taking one of his hands off your waist to guide it beneath the linen of your dress, his breath ragged as his fingertip grazed over your thighs until they reached the soaked lace of your panties. “This is what you do to me, Joel.”

“Jesus fuckin—baby, I need you,” he whimpered and sunk to the floor in front of you, his dark and dreamy eyes peering up at you for permission as he lifted the hem of your dress up. “Can I taste you?”

“God, you never have to ask,” you moaned back, taking the fabric bunched in his hands and holding it for him. Joel’s eyes dropped from yours down to the image right in front of him, his tongue swiping along his bottom lip at the sight of your white lace thong.

“You’re gonna make me lose my mind, baby,” he groaned again, his hands now running up and down the outside of your thighs.

The anticipation could have killed you, your chest heaving and skin prickling with chills from the simple sensation of his breath fanning over the wet spot on your panties, the lust in his eyes. Combing your fingers through his hair, you attempted to silently urge him on and he seemed to pick up on it, his hands sliding back up to your hips to hook into the tiny band of your underwear and slip them down your legs until they were kicked off.

“Baby,” he cooed as you draped one of your knees over his broad shoulders to open yourself up to him, his mouth watering at the sight. “I’m never gonna wanna do anythin’ else but stay right—“ He placed a kiss to your mound and your entire body jerked. “Here.”

His tongue swiped through your folds and you melted against the door behind you, your fingers gripping his hair now as you struggled to stay upright. Joel practically growled at your taste, his hands gripping your thighs as if he was holding on for dear life.

“Fuck,” you moaned as he tensed his tongue to circle your swollen bud until your arousal started to drip down your thighs. “That’s so good.”

Your praise earned you another growl, his tongue now flicking and circling, lapping and sucking against you until your thighs were shaking from the pressure building in your lower stomach.

“Tastes so fuckin’ sweet, baby girl.” He sucked your clit and made you cry out his name. “Yeah, just like that. Keep sayin’ my name, baby. Let everyone know.”

“Joel, fuck!” Your orgasm was imminent, the tingling in your thighs that traveled down to your toes and back up your spine fogging any sense of coherency you may have once had in his presence. “I—fuck, I—“

“I know, baby. Can taste it.” He shook his head and flattened his tongue against your clit, his eyes meeting with yours. You wanted to cry, but the pleasure you were feeling was too consuming. The only thing you could do as Joel sucked your now throbbing bud into his mouth was to cry out his name like a prayer—some sort of wicked salvation that beat out any other holier counterpart. “Come on, baby. Cum on my tongue. Wanna taste it…every fuckin’ drop—“

“Fuck!” You crumpled to the ground, your back sliding against the door until you were kneeling with him on the floor, your body shuddering as you rode out the waves of your euphoria.

Joel was quick to act, guiding you down onto your back while you were still lost in bliss. He kissed your face as if you were his most prized possession, his hands worshipping the curves of your still-clothed body.

“Need you, baby,” he whispered against your jaw as he placed a love bite there, your head nodding to give him consent to do whatever the fuck he wanted to do to you after that mind blowing climax he just gave you.

You only heard the clinking of his belt buckle before feeling his cock stretch you open, a choked cry slipping from your lips in time with Joel’s wanton groan. You peeled your eyes open and looked down at the place you were joined, delighting in the fact that neither of you were undressed, the neediness of the moment turning you both feral.

“God damn,” he groaned and let his head hang as he stilled himself deep inside of you after only a few thrusts. “About to embarrass myself. You feel too fuckin’ good, baby.”

“Don’t worry about lasting long,” you stroked his beard. “I just wanna feel you.”

“God, I—” He choked on his words and leaned over your body, propping himself up by his elbows on either side of your head. You wrapped your legs around his waist and dug your heels into his jean-clad ass to urge him on, desperate to feel him spill inside of you.

“Want you to cum for me,” you moaned, pressing kisses into the side of his face as he buried his head in the crook of your neck. “Cum inside me—“

“Fuck,” he shouted as his cock thrust into you faster and deeper, your wetness squelching around him and filling the room along with both of your ragged moans. “I’m gonna—fuck, baby. You sure?”

“I’m on birth control, it’s okay,” you promised. Joel lifted his head to look into your eyes, his face scrunched up in something akin to agony but you were sure it couldn’t have been further from it.

“Gonna fill you up, beautiful,” he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. “Gonna have you dripping for me.”

“Yes!” His cock was hitting something inside of you that was making you see stars, your mind going back to that pleasure-dumb state you’d just been lost in, and before you had time to warn him, your walls fluttered in time with his cock spilling inside of you. “I’m coming, Joel, fuck!”

“Me too, baby,” he choked out through a string of profanity and moans. “Fuck, so fuckin’—you’re perfect.”

The two of you stayed there for a while, both of you turned into puddles of post-climactic bliss as you laid in each other’s arms. Joel hissed as he pulled out and rolled over onto the carpet beside you, both of you turning your heads to look at each other with wide, almost childlike grins.

“Be my girlfriend?” Joel choked out, nerves thick in his shaky voice. You laid there speechless for a moment, unsure of how to tell him that ever since you met him you’d been dreaming of the day those words would leave his lips. So, you kept it simple, a smile gracing your face as you reached over to hold his face.

“I would love to.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fluff #joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller fic #joel miller reader insert #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #tlou joel #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #elementary

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sinkingnotsoslowly · 3 months

Text

Menace

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader (pronouns not mentioned)

Non-idol au, fluff, very little angst

technically is a part 2 of this fic but could be read as a standalone

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK. REBLOGS AND FEEDBACKS ARE APPRECIATED

“Why aren’t you dating anyone Minho?”

Minho stops devouring his pudding to gawk at you. “I’m not questioning your decision to stay single but why are you really not dating?”, you ask.

“Because you haven’t said yes yet”, he goes back to eating his pudding as if he didn’t just say the most outlandish thing.

“Yes to what?”

Minho rolls his eyes in feigned annoyance, “Yes to me asking you to date me, duh”

“Ugh be serious Minho”, you huff.

“What makes you think I’m not serious (yn)?” he looks at you with something in his eyes that you can’t decipher. “I think I should head back now, my break ended ten minutes ago”, with that gets up and walks out of the café.

This was two weeks ago and it still hasn’t left your mind. It is not unlike Minho to randomly ask you out on a date but you never take him seriously. He always jokes about how you two should just marry each other if you were still single at thirty. But that day at the café he did not seem like he was joking about you dating him. Did you hit a nerve by asking him that? But if he was indeed upset, he would tell you about it, you guys always talked things out if either of you were upset. He has been behaving perfectly normally since then.

“I ate pudding today”, you waited for him to continue but only silence followed. “Minho you called me in the middle of the day to say that you ate pudding?”, you asked. “Yeah, and it was so delicious. Buy me more when you come over. Anyways I got to go, bye”, the call ended. Yep, very Minho-like.

You met Minho at a college party and then proceeded to make out with him only stopping when you accidentally moaned your best friend’s name instead. But he never held it against you. You eventually opened up to him enough to tell him that you were in love with your best friend. The said best friend was getting married in a month. And you would be there, as a guest of course. To your surprise you weren’t exactly heartbroken when Seungmin called you, gasping for breath like he had run a marathon. You could almost hear him grinning his puppy grin, “She said yes”.

Just because you were not heartbroken did not mean you were not sad. After all, there were years of pining, wishing that one day he would finally realise that the love of his life was always in front of him. That did not happen. You guys graduated, you got a job, he went for higher studies and found someone there. That night Minho came over with beer and let you ugly sob on his shoulder. Since college, he has always been there with you, your graduation, your first job, bad dates, going out for drinks on Friday nights and talking shit about your bosses. You thought he was good for you; a great friend.

“I’m going on a date tomorrow”, Minho said while setting up his laptop for the movie. It was your weekly movie night at his place, “Thought I should try getting out there”. He was still looking at the laptop avoiding your eyes. For some reason, you felt a pang in your chest. “Is this because of what I said? Minho I didn’t mean to upset you-”

“You didn’t upset me (yn). I’ve just been thinking of settling down”, he started the movie without further explanation. You wanted to press him on but you thought better of it.

You couldn’t concentrate on the movie. Throughout it, you kept thinking about what Minho said. You couldn’t blame him for wanting to settle down but you kept feeling uncomfortable with the image of Minho dating someone and then marrying her.

Minho has always been a menace but he became a little more annoying the next week. He always has this look on his face like he knows something you don’t and it has been eating at your brain. Midweek your composure breaks and you snap, “Ok what is it? Why do you look like you are up to no good?” At that Minho looks at you like you just sprouted two heads, “I don’t know what you’re talking about”

“Oh you know what I’m talking about Minho”

Minho keeps looking at you like a cat who did not just knock off the flower vase, and then he blinked like a lightbulb went off in his head, “Ah right! Come over on Saturday I need help to pick out what I’ll wear for the date.”

The date. Right. He was just excited for the date. You felt your spirits dropping. Maybe in no time, you’ll be attending Minho’s wedding too, as a guest. Wait what? Why would you think that? How else would you want to attend a friend’s wedding if not as a guest?

Oh.

OH.

Oh no.

You stood up abruptly almost knocking over your half-drunk coffee on the table, “I-I have to go, I haven’t even started the new project yet”. Without sparing Minho another glance you grabbed your bag to just get away from him as fast as possible.

“Huh? That was sudden. Well don’t forget about Saturday.”

You faked a smile towards him, “Yes, yes, Saturday, I’ll be there.”

Saturday came faster than you could blink. And it seemed like the universe had a personal vendetta against you this week. Missed deadlines, unnecessary hourlong meetings, spilt coffee, missing the bus- you name it. At this point, only a year-long vacation could give some mental peace. And on top of that, you couldn’t stop thinking about Minho. You didn’t see each other again after that one day when you barely escaped humiliating yourself.

“Should I wear the blue button-down or the black one?”

“Black”

“Hmm, ok blue it is” menace.

“Why am I here Minho? Not like you are listening to me”, you were sitting on his bed munching on the last of honey butter chips Minho had stocked up. You spent the whole day buried in the blanket, wallowing in self-pity, and almost didn’t show up today. You even contemplated going back home while standing in front of Minho’s house. God knows what you were still doing there sitting in Minho’s bedroom while he dressed up for his date.

Minho looked at you through the mirror, scoffing, “For moral support of course”. He went back to styling his hair without another word.

“Well then if am done providing moral support to your honour, I’ll be taking my leave”, it was time for you to go back to the safety of your blankets and cry yourself to sleep since you did not seem fated to have requited love in this life. The only option left was arranged marriage.

Before you could leave Minho’s room you were stopped. “W-wait, don’t you have anything to tell me?” Minho asked. You turned around, brain going into overdrive. Why would he say that? Does he know about my feelings? Is he teasing me? Oh God please no. But what if-

“Like- are you okay with this? Me going on a date?” Ah, so he was just worried. How sweet. “Of course, I’m okay Minho. Why wouldn’t I be? This is completely your decision; you deserve to be happy-”

“Oh my god, you’re so dumb (yn). Why can’t you just say it? Why can’t you just ask me not to go? Why can’t you tell me that you like me?” Minho paused, taking a breath to calm down, “I like you (yn). And I know you like me. There is no other girl. But I do have a reservation for dinner if you’re up for it”.

It would be an understatement to say that you were dumfounded. You had thought of many scenarios while laying awake in bed but not this. “Why didn’t you just confront me if you knew that I liked you?”, you asked, fiddling with the hem of your shirt which looked very interesting suddenly. Minho sighed, “I wasn’t sure at first. So I wanted to see your reaction by saying that I have a date. And it seemed like you weren’t sure about your feelings either. So are you up for it?”

“Huh?”

“The date. Do want to go on this date? Look I understand if you are pissed, and it’s fine if you say no-”

“Just drive me to my place so I can dress up atleast. You’re such a menace Lee Minho”

Minho grinned like a cat, “Yeah but now it’s too late to get rid off me. So this menace is now your responsibility”.

So you were fated to have requited love it seems.

masterlist

Autumn's sighs- little soft thoughts about our favourite boys

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beenbaanbuun · 9 days

Note

Love im addicted to you Matz and darling work!!✨pls make masterlist

Soooo I was thinking are they into role playing?? Like what scenario matz and darling choose??

I have one unholy one in my mind, what if mommy hwa ties hong to chair and make him watch as he takes darling ?? This would be soo🤌🏻🤌🏻

hello!!!! the masterlist is here!! she needs updating with the last few works but that’s a job for later im afraid 😭😭

——

they definitely like to add a little spice into the bedroom, and i was actually thinking about that very thing just the other day. hongjoong had been a little too bratty after waking up alone and had decided to take it out not just on darling, but also on seonghwa. now, darling knows better than anyone in that house that being a brat gets you nowhere, except in hongjoong’s case, where it gets you tied to a chair.

“comfy?” seonghwa purrs into his husbands ear as he tightens the last nod. hongjoong tries to wriggle a little, but to no avail. it doesn’t surprise him; seonghwa’s rigging skills are unmatched. hongjoong gives a little shake of his head in response to the question, a defiant look in his eyes as he glares up at his partner. “good; you’re not supposed to be.”

he hears a little giggle from across the room and his gaze shoots over to where you sit on the bed, completely bare and ready for the taking. his eyes narrow, determined to convey a message to you; he may be tied up, but he’s still your dom at the end of the day. you seem to understand it, but you never once wipe the smile from your face… fucking brat.

“you did this to yourself, mi amor,” seonghwa says, stalking his way over to where you sit. a pretty hand lands atop your head, tugging at you until you sit leaning against your mommy’s hipbone. you close your eyes in bliss as he brushes your hair from your face and hongjoong can’t help but feel annoyance bubble up within him at the sight. “hasn’t our little darling proved enough times that being a little shit gets you nowhere? haven’t you yourself dragged her over your lap enough for that little lesson to sink in?”

hongjoong, of course, has learnt that lesson. not only has he taught it to you plenty of times, but he’s also been on the receiving end a few more times than he’d like to admit. it doesn’t always end up with him tied to a chair, but it is always torture for him.

his eyes narrow as he watches seonghwa’s hand dip to your chin, gently caressing your soft skin before lifting your gaze from hongjoong to your mommy. the whimper you let out when a thumb slowly pushes its way between your lips is sinful. pair it with the wide eyes look you offer to his husband and its enough to make the devil himself let out a little prayer. only you could make innocence look so slutty…

“you know, you’re lucky my precious lamb is as understanding as she is,” the thumb is pulled from your mouth with a pop, a single string of saliva connecting the digit to the still parted lips. seonghwa swipes at them, smearing your own saliva against them. hongjoong almost cums in his pants when he sees you chase after the thumb, yearning to have something rested against your tongue once more. “she didn’t even snitch on you when you were being such a troublesome brat. seriously mi amor, refusing to let her sit with you simply because she grew too hungry to stay in bed with you this morning? it’s childish, isn’t it lamb?”

and although it really shouldn’t have, the question makes hongjoong smile. clearly seonghwa was in some sort of tyrannical headspace tonight; to punish hongjoong and then continue on to ask you such a leading question? he really is out for blood.

and it seems as though you can see it too. you blink up at seonghwa’s expression of faux-innocence, your lust addled brain taking just a moment longer to compute than usual. if you answer how seonghwa wishes for you to, hongjoong will no doubt pounce the moment he gets free of the restraints. if you don’t, seonghwa will no doubt take joy in punishing you too. you swallow down your worries as your mind races to decide which lover you’d rather have on your side.

“yes, mommy,” you whisper, your voice unsure and trembling. a proud smile forms on seonghwa’s face as you fall right into the trap he lay for you. he turns his head to face his husband, giving hongjoong a single look that tells all; take this punishment like a good boy, and taking care of you will be his reward…

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #matz x reader #opposites attract universe

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sleep-escapes-me · 9 days

Text

didn't know they were dating

Imogen x Laudna

word count: 2569

a modern au told through the eyes of convenience store employee, Cynthia, and the observations she makes while working

“Are you able to work independently in a fast-paced environment?”

“Yes, sir. At my previous job, my boss was impressed with how—,”

“You’re hired.”

The evening shift is Cynthia’s new home. She’s grateful for the opportunity at something different but more so for the money. Having hobbies is expensive and horses are expensive. So when your hobby is horses…well.

And school of course. Money for school.

“Welcome to Faramore’s!”

The cheery disposition is easy enough to muster. And once her manager stops randomly showing up during her shifts after the first week, Cynthia realizes the pep isn’t necessary. At least not with the crowd of customers she’s slowly getting used to.

It's a nice job for the pay. The shop she works at is located in a sleepy neighborhood on the city's outskirts so it rarely gets busy. Every night so far has been peaceful. Giving Cynthia plenty of time to finish any homework and people-watch.

She comes to recognize the regulars fairly quickly and learns all their names only because she’s nosy and the receipt is right there.

There's the blue-haired guy with the nice smile, Dorian, who more often than not has a guitar strapped to his back. He usually shows up with his boyfriend, seemingly always coming from a workout at the gym, Orym. His eyes are incredibly discerning if not a little unsettling. He stares at her like he knows all her secrets. But they’re always very polite and ask how she’s holding up in the late hour. Cynthia likes them.

Protein bar Lip balm Ready-to-bake pie crust $15.99

There's the incredibly tall gorgeous woman, Fearne, who always smells like a garden of wildflowers when she walks in. Cynthia’s been scared to ask what perfume she wears after an incident where she caught the woman attempting to steal. Maybe Cynthia is just naive but she thought being caught once would deter further attempts…but that strangely wasn’t the case. She's had to let it go altogether because she just gets so flustered. One playful wink from the woman has Cynthia forgetting all about the incident to the point that she makes an effort to make sure her manager never finds out about the missing stock.

Novelty monkey lighter Cinnamon gum 3 tubes of lipstick Pack of ribbons Costume jewelry Various postcards $0

Then there’s the punk-looking one with the spikey purple hair, Ashton, who always shows up exactly at 1 AM every other night. Cynthia was weary of him at first but then he gave her some really great unsolicited advice on how to not get swindled when negotiating with flaky people. After that night he started tipping her a single dollar and imparting arbitrary wisdom. Cynthia hasn’t yet figured out if it’s some kind of prank…

Two cases of beer Travel sewing kit Toothbrush $20.06

Probably the loudest customers are the two old men who have the strangest conversations every time they enter the store. Cynthia desperately wishes to get in on whatever strange schemes the hairier one, Chetney, seems to always be involved in. Half of them can’t be true but his imagination excites her regardless. The other one rides in on a bright yellow scooter half the time and always wishes Cynthia a smiley day without fail no matter the time of day. He never brings any money or pays for anything so Cynthia doesn’t know his name aside from the obvious nickname, Letters, that she hears thrown around by Chetney. The lack of money always starts an argument between the two old men that she has to awkwardly stand and listen to. She learns new curse words all the time from them.

Wood finisher Scented body oil $18.12 Chamomile tea Cigarettes $12.87

And her favorite; the girlfriends. Or at least that’s what Cynthia assumes they are. It’s hard to tell.

The spooky-looking one, Laudna, tries to make small talk while at the register. Cynthia isn’t shy by any means but it’s sometimes hard to keep up with the odd topics of conversation. Soon enough Cynthia’s learning about her pet rat who’s so old he should be dead and how he’s always jumping off high places attempting to fly. Cynthia nods politely and keeps her opinions to herself.

Mixed seeds Red yarn Super glue $15.26

The other woman Laudna is always with, Imogen, is a bit more demure—or maybe guarded is more apt. Her eyes never leave Laudna and seems content to listen to her prattle on as they shop. She rarely buys anything. It’s usually at the behest of Laudna reminding her of some arbitrary thought.

Pencils Hand lotion $11.07

Imogen comes in alone for the first time since Cynthia started working. There's a nervous titter of energy around her as she runs up and down each aisle like a bat out of hell. Cynthia debates if she should ask if she needs any help before Imogen rushes to the register.

“This all for you today?” Cynthia asks habitually.

Imogen nods with a quiet sigh. “Hopefully.”

Box cake mix Candles Black sprinkles Oven mitts $14.47

Once she’s left, Cynthia muses over how sweet their relationship must be for Imogen to want to bake a cake for her girlfriend. She herself is an abysmal baker so it makes her yearn for a relationship in the future that’s just as thoughtful. She imagines Laudna walking through their front door, the house smelling of freshly baked goods. Imogen walks out of a side room with the cake decorated, candles lit, and a big smile on her face…

She speaks too soon when Imogen comes back in a little over an hour in a visibly sour mood, black crumbs stuck to her shirt.

Box cake mix Frosting $3.69

Cynthia can’t help herself as Imogen sullenly reaches for her purchase. The words tumble out of her mouth. “Havin’ trouble?”

Imogen startles at the sudden question and Cynthia holds back a grimace. She awkwardly gestures to the items she just bagged.

“Using milk instead of water makes a better box cake. More fat is supposed to improve it or something. At least that’s what my mama always says.”

Imogen frowns and checks over her shoulder toward the fridge section. She looks back at Cynthia for a solid two-count and nods.

Milk Energy drink $4.25

Imogen smiles warmly at her, taking her groceries. “Thanks.”

Cynthia beams. “Of course. Hope it turns out well.”

Imogen doesn’t show up for the rest of the night.

Laudna shows up alone one day in a tizzy and Cynthia instantly recognizes something is wrong. It tests her resilience as an impartial convenience store employee to not get involved in customers' business…but Laudna’s frazzled appearance and her very loud speaking over the phone at least paints Cynthia a vague picture.

“Okay, darling, I’ve just arrived. I’m walking to the medicine aisle. Ooh, those snacks Pâté likes are on sale—right, sorry. I am in the medicine aisle. Which one is it?” She pauses. “There’s a yellow label and a blue label.” Another pause. “Are you sure? The yellow label says extra strength.” Pause. “Well, I don’t care if it’s extra money! This is your health! I’m not yelling! Oh, nope. I am. Sorry, sorry. Hold on. I’m grabbing the yellow label.”

Cynthia watches Laudna do that in two more aisles.

“Okay, darling, I’m heading to the register. I’m hanging up. I have to pay.” She frowns. “I'm telling you so you don’t worry.” She looks at the phone then at Cynthia. “She hung up.”

Cynthia bites the inside of her lip to keep from laughing. “Find everything okay?”

“Oh, I hope so.” Laudna’s shoulders droop. “I get so flustered in a crisis that sometimes I forget my own name. Isn’t that just silly? I’m lucky Imogen is always so collected.” She chuckles lightly while nervously pulling at the ends of her hair.

“It’s not silly when you’re worried about someone.”

“You’re so sweet.” Laudna's eyes crinkle with a smile. “You know, I see you working whenever I come in. No matter the time. Do you always work this shift?”

“For the time being, yes.”

“You’re so young,” she muses.

Cynthia hands over the bag to Laudna. “Well, I hope everything is all right with your girlfriend.”

Laudna’s face slowly drops as she processes Cynthia’s words. “Excuse me?”

She scrambles. “Nothing. Nevermind. Here’s your change. Have a good evening.”

Laudna stares at her for a long moment before reaching for her money. Then trails out of the store in a mumbling daze.

Scar cream Pain meds Bandage wrap $25.73

Cynthia resists the urge to run in the back room. Was she wrong? Were they even dating? Were they already married? She’s never seen a ring on Imogen. Or has she? Laudna…definitely had one, right? The shine of a sparkling red ruby ring enters her mind. Fiancé?

Imogen enters the store alone the next night but seems perfectly normal when interacting with Cynthia. She even tells her to have a good night as she leaves.

A bag of chips Two energy drinks $6.86

It isn't until Laudna is back again at the end of the week when the fruits of her fuck up unravel. She doesn't enter with Imogen. Instead with someone Cynthia is shocked to see such a sweet woman like Laudna in cahoots with. The thief!

Cynthia watches the pair peruse the aisles aimlessly until

“Fearne!” The yell comes from the back of the shop. Laudna’s arms can be seen flailing over the tops of the shelves. Cynthia strains to listen.

“It’s all right,” Fearne says. “She doesn’t mind.”

Laudna stutters. “You still shouldn’t steal from such a sweet girl. That could be grounds for termination.”

Fearne hums. “She hasn’t been fired yet.”

Finally, the two of them make their way to the front. Fearne pivots toward the door with a familiar flirty wink before Laudna grabs her arm.

“Where are you going?” she admonishes. “We still have to pay.”

“Oh. Oops,” Fearne giggles. “Silly me. It just slipped my mind.”

Cynthia is mostly sure Fearne didn’t forget.

Laudna's eyes don’t quite look at Cynthia as they approach. Fearne seemingly takes notice and saunters up to the register.

“You must see Laudna here a lot, right?”

Cynthia feels her mouth go dry. She realizes she’s never heard Fearne’s voice this close because the other woman never comes to the register. It somehow even further adores her to the enigmatic woman. Cynthia slowly nods. “Sometimes.”

She leans across the counter. Her eyes twinkle with a mischievous sparkle. “So…are you the one who called Imogen her girlfriend?”

“Fearne! Okay!” She pushes her friend aside and drops a bill down on the counter in a fluster. “That's enough of that. I think we’re done here. Yes. Thank you so much, young lady! You have a lovely evening!”

Cynthia forgets to ring them up.

At this point, it’s been several weeks since seeing Imogen and Laudna enter the store together. Cynthia is so on edge thinking about the two women's situation that it’s starting to affect her sleep schedule.

The curiosity eats away at her until the next time Imogen walks in. The gentle ding from the door’s bell erupts like a blaring alarm for Cynthia. Her focus zeros in on the unsuspecting woman and tracks her around the store like a hawk. The next time she passes by the front, the word vomit hurls from Cynthia’s lips when it’s simply too much to hold back.

“Did you break up?” She blurts out instead of her usual script.

Imogen’s eyebrows furrow. “Huh?”

“Your girlfriend—uhh, or maybe fiancé?” She says it like a question and Imogen stares at her like she’s grown two heads. “Laud—the one woman you’re always here with. The spooky one?” Silence. She should really shut up. “Aren’t you together?”

The other woman goes deathly still. “No…”

Oh.

Cynthia feels the embarrassing red-hot heat flooding her cheeks. “Sorry. I thought you were. It was wrong of me to assume.”

A muscle in Imogen’s cheek tightens. Her mouth opens and closes several times before she asks, “Why would you think we were together?” Her voice is stony. “Did she say somethin’?”

“What?” She doesn’t sound accusatory or angry so Cynthia is confident she hasn’t completely insulted this woman. The word vomit continues. “No. It’s not that. I mean I did mention to her that you were her girlfriend and she never really denied it. I thought—I honestly didn’t think you were dating at first. But after a while it was hard to ignore when the two of you seemed so…” She trails off when noticing how pale Imogen has gotten.

“So?”

“In love?” Cynthia finishes lamely. Her cheeks burn with mortification.

She makes a noise somewhere between an acknowledgment and a whimper.

It’s all Cynthia gets before she turns and makes a beeline toward the back. She stands in front of the liquor aisle for an exorbitant amount of time. Cynthia has half a mind to ask if she’s all right but cowardice of saying the wrong thing again stops her. Finally, she makes a selection and Cynthia has to struggle to not cringe as she rings her up. No pleasantries are exchanged.

Box wine $8.99

She comes in the next day.

Cynthia wants to crawl into a hole.

Box wine Tissues Pain meds $14.68

And the next.

Cynthia considers quitting just to stave off the unparalleled embarrassment and shame coursing through her.

Two bottles of wine Decongestant Pint of ice cream Effervescent tablets $36.87

She never sees her again.

Mainly because Cynthia quits her job at Faramore's soon after. She’s accepted into an apprenticeship across town and can’t justify the commute anymore.

She doesn’t tell her regulars because that seems like a silly thing to do. It’s not like she talks to any of them or knows them beyond the stories she makes up in her head by their brief interactions. It’s strange when she realizes she will miss them. There’s a melancholic kind of insight she garners—missing someone you don’t really know.

Months later Cynthia finds herself in the neighborhood after an event takes her back across town. The curiosity hits her a bit too hard and soon enough she finds herself back at her old store. It’s like walking into a time capsule. She doesn’t feel any claim to the shop as it’s one of many and she’s gone to others in the franchise but it still feels strangely familiar as the bell dings when she enters.

The guy at the register is more apathetic than she cares to comment on. He rings up her items without so much as a greeting.

Gummy bears Bottle of water $4.33

On her way out, the door whooshes open and the bell dings softly. As if in slow motion, in walks Laudna, a big smile on her face, arm around a giggling Imogen’s shoulders, whose own arm is securely wrapped around Laudna’s waist. Laudna leans her head down to kiss the top of Imogen’s head. Then Imogen smoothly turns her face upward and they share a chaste kiss without breaking their stride. They don’t notice Cynthia walk past them.

Maybe Cynthia sheds a single tear later that night when she thinks about them or maybe it's just this very emotional movie she’s watching about a horse that defies all the odds in the end.

#imodna fic #imodna #imogen temult #laudna #my writing #prompt fic #eventually i'll fix this up/add more and publish on ao3 #i'm just glad i finally posted something after 2 months

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moongreenlight · 2 months

Text

It's WIP Wednesday and I'm thinking so hard about “Chateau Lobby #4 (In C for Two Virgins)” by Father John Misty that my head explodes.

Retired!Price x Divorcee/single mom!reader (titles are hard who cares)

Cw/Tw: Pressure to perform sex/sexual acts

Little 1k blurb that ends right before the smut because I just got done ovulating and the thought of writing about cock and dick is not in the cards rn.

There was never much time to date while John was working. Never enough of him to occupy all of his work and pleasure. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to spread himself thin enough to coat the surface of all his wants.

He tried for a few years, early, when he could stay out late and still feel alright putting in a full day’s work the next morning. But he’s a romantic at heart. Never found much appeal to a fast-and-loose lifestyle and eventually stopped looking for trouble in places he would find it.

He was now alone, but with more time to figure out what he really wanted after retiring. Had more of himself to portion out. Pursued his hobbies. Picked up odd contracting jobs out of a need to keep himself busy. Found trouble with a single mother and recent divorcee who hired him off of an online ad because she needed help with a few things around her new house.

He knew he was in for it the moment she opened the door. Asked her out while he was half inside a cupboard under her sink. She said no twice.

Third time’s the charm.

She must have been put on one of those religious conveyor belts and turned out like she was on a factory line- that or she had parents to piss off. Married, turned out two kids, and split young. Must have been straight out of high school, because now that the divorce is finalized she’s cheating her way through a business degree at the community college around her day job.

Still carries some of that youth and innocence in her even though she’s only a year or two his junior. In the way she snorts when she laughs and hastily covers it up by holding the back of her hand over her mouth. The three times already tonight she’s prefaced that she doesn’t kiss on the first date and she’s got a strict rule about no ‘secondary locations.’ It’s charming. Like she’s spending any fleeting moment of free time discovering herself.

And is he glad she’s wasting her precious time on him. Even more glad he caught her on a weekend where her ex had the kids, though the idea of introducing himself to her house, her innocence, her little family, was fucking intoxicating. Made him forget the two fingers of whiskey sitting up right of his plate.

He gets so tipsy on the thought of besting her rules that he can’t help but push his luck after she- ever so delicately- refused the waiter trying to drop a dessert menu at the edge of the table.

“Cheap date.”

A snort from her. She has to pull her lips away from the rim of her wine glass to stifle it. House, even though it’ll give her a headache, she says. Couldn’t possibly bring herself to spend a dime of his money further than what was necessary. Darling thing. He’d love to see how far that ‘good girl’ act went. How much pressure it could handle.

She’d probably pull him in warm. Gooey in the middle when he finally got her spread open.

“Wasn’t out to test your fiscal limits”

She dabs the corner of her smile with a napkin. It’s his turn to laugh now.

“Shame. Half my appeal is the restaurant.”

She falters for a breath. Her eyes go a bit wide, like she’s suddenly worried she hasn’t thanked him enough. Hasn’t been good enough to please him. The thought makes him ball his hand into a fist to distract from the tightness in his slacks.

“Gosh, John, and it is such a nice place. Dinner was fantastic. Thank you, really.”

Her fingers curl around his fist. She has to stretch a bit to reach him from across the table. Her fingertips don’t touch even when she tries to wrap her hand around his. Earnest is thick on her voice now. It honeys her tone. He wonders if when she pulls away she’ll leave a sugary stickiness on his skin.

He tsks, a smile flirting across his mouth. Unable to help himself. A hungry stray being tossed a hot meal.

“And how impressive would it have’t be if I had my heart set on bringing you ‘round t’mine for a nightcap?”

She wrinkles her nose at that, though there’s a glittering of humor in her eyes when she gives his hand a kittenish slap.

“You couldn’t afford it.”

Sharp as a tack.

He has to clench his jaw shut to keep from sinking his teeth into her. They ache to see if she’s candy-floss all the way through.

“No?”

“Dinner was fantastic, John. Thank you.”

She throws him a warning glance with that. There’s the faintest outline of severity blurring into the soft edges of her voice. He digs his nails into his palm.

“M’I that bad to talk to?”

He’s pulling out stops now. Ignoring the chirping alarm sounding in the back of his skull that tells him that he should be able to pick out if he’s insisting for the right reasons or not.

She’s more difficult to guilt a second time. Rolls her eyes and starts folding her napkin on the side of her plate.

“Must be.”

She is fucking delectable.

Trouble. Everything about her. Every new layer he peels back sets him ablaze. He’s smoldering in his chair, waiting for the smoke curling off the crown of his head to set off the smoke detectors.

It takes some effort, but he’s able to get her to settle on him coming ‘round to hers after dinner. ‘One drink, John. I’m serious.’ She digs her heels in a bit, but he’d already made his mind up. He’d have her. Tuck her in a paper bag and take his dessert to-go.

She makes him turn away when she punches the code into her garage opener. Says the remote in her car is dead, and while he looks around the edges of the house for security cameras, he makes a note to come back and get both of those things taken care of for her. Doesn’t like the thought of her alone in her driveway after work tired and vulnerable.

Never mind if she had to step out in the rain. Sugar melts.

He tries to convince her to sit on the couch with him while she nurses a weak pour of wine, she refuses. Sits on a plush armchair catty-corner to him in the living room and smiles while shakes her head.

“Not used to being told no?”

It’s less of a question than it is a plain statement. A surface-level observation. It should strike him as an insult, but watching the words fall from her pretty mouth made pride swell in his chest.

“Should I be?”

Trouble. He’s inching toward the line.

“You’d think.”

He wonders what she would think if he took her down to the studs. Not much of anything- if he was lucky.

#moongreenlight #moongreenlightwrites #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod x reader #141 headcanons #drabble #price cod #price call of duty #captain john price #john price #captain price #john price x reader #price x reader #captain john price x reader #wip wednesday

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gay-wh0re-slut · 7 months

Note

Omg would you please write something smutty-close friends yearning each other-there was only one bed-thing 🥹

omg i forgot about the typical tropes, i’d love to write this one. i think i’m gonna go more fluffy then smutty tho unfortch (still smut tho don’t worry) bc i need a break from writing it. i’m afraid i’m getting too repetitive so i hope this suits your needs hehe but thank you for the request!

For Sure

rhea x fem!reader

content: slight angst?? kissing, def some fingering, def some praise for SURE

Working with Rhea had been a dream. She was so sweet and genuinely cared about you. You had been her assistant for a about a year now and the friendship was really tight. She wanted someone she could talk about anything with, especially something other than wrestling.

You two usually stayed in adjoining rooms when you would travel for the shows, sometimes in the same room, with different beds of course. She had joked many times that one day they would mess up and give the two of you one bed but it hasn’t happened yet, luckily.

Your job as her assistant was to make sure she stayed on schedule, booked her hotel rooms and was the liaison for people who wanted to do interviews with her. Safe to say, you spent a lot of time with her, but you didn’t mind. To say that though, was an understatement. You loved spending time with her because these past few weeks, you’ve been wanting something more than just a friendship.

You and her would always flirt playfully as girl friends would do, but you never thought she was serious. “You look so scrumptious today,” she would say, or would joke around sometimes when you would accidentally brush against her hand with the “if you wanna hold my hand just ask,” and you wanted to so badly but you knew it would be too much.

The weekend came and you booked for the two of you to stay in a room with two beds at the hotel WWE chose.

“For Bennett please,” you said to the lady at the front desk. You use her real last name in case any crazed fans try to find her.

“Okay, one second,” as she typed away at the computer.

Rhea made eye contact with you and gave you a wink. Butterflies hit your stomach and you could feel your face getting red so you turned away after you winked back. You tapped your fingers on the counter hoping the lady would hurry up.

“Unfortunately, it looks like all our double beds have been booked for this weekend,” she said hoping you wouldn’t be mad.

“Are there any adjoining rooms?” you were scared to ask the question.

“We don’t have those here, sadly, I apologize,” she frowned.

“Looks like we’re cuddling, babygirl,” Rhea interjected.

Shit. “Do you have a pullout-”

“We’ll take a single bed then,” the wrestler interrupted you.

The lady flicked her eyes between the two of you and smiled. She began clicking away at her computer again, “here’s one with a king bed and a small kitchenette, that okay?”

“Perfect,” Rhea smiled devilishly.

She handed you the keycards and you headed to the room. You were so nervous about this whole thing, you couldn’t contain your wringing hands.

Rhea opened the door and there it was, the king bed. Your heart skipped a beat but you tried your best to stay calm.

She placed her luggage on the floor, throwing her duffle on the chair. You did the same but placed yours neatly on the desk near the window.

“Finally,” she said dropping her body on to the bed face down.

You giggle, “I’ve needed to go to the bathroom since we landed,” and you head in.

It wasn’t a lie but you did need to splash some water on your face to calm down. So you used the bathroom and washed your hands but kept the water running to cool you off as you washed your face.

“It’s fine, you’re fine, nothings even gonna happen,” you whisper to your reflection. “And if it does…no, no, it’s not going to so there’s nothing to worry about so…” you shrug to yourself. You finally turn off the water and walk back out to find the muscular woman changing into her pajamas. You cowered away at first when you realized but she was turned away from you just right. Her back muscles were, oh, so perfect and her arms are just so big and-

“Should we do each other’s makeup and watch scary movies?” she turned around finicking with her shirt.

“What… oh!” you laugh, “that’s sounds like fun, but I’m so tired and it’s already midnight and we have to get up.”

She sighed dramatically, “if you say so boss,” as she slipped under the covers, “oh this is sooo comfy, you should try it.”

“Lemme change first,” you said nervously, “and no peeking.”

“Aawww,” she joked as she covered her eyes. She peeked through her fingers at you as she giggled then covered them completely.

You quickly changed into your pajamas which was just a big tshirt and biker shorts. “Done,” you said as you turned around to her already looking at you. Your face immediately got hot.

“(y/n),” she said quietly, “you’re so beautiful,” her face staring in awe.

You crossed your arms to cover as much as you could, “I told you no peeking and thank you but you should look in a mirror sometime.”

She immediately got out of the bed, “no, I’m serious,” she pulled your arms apart, “like so incredibly.”

“Stop,” you chuckle, “you’re gonna make me fall in love with you,” you said in a joking tone but it was completely serious as you walked to your side of the bed.

“You’d love to have me as a girlfriend,” she started with a teasing tone, “I’d take you out, show you off, buy you flowers… I’m a great girlfriend actually.”

“Ha ha, very funny, but seriously we have to go to sleep,” you get into your side of the bed.

She sighed once more, “I guess so,” she followed you into the bed. “So cuddling’s off the table?” she turned to her side with her head resting on her hand.

“Unless you subconsciously do it in your sleep,” but you wanted to so badly.

“Suit yourself, I’m a great big spoon,” she turned over and turned off her light.

“I bet you are,” you turned off your light too, “goodnight Rhea.”

“Sleep well,” she huffed.

You couldn’t sleep. Your mind was running, thinking about all the things she could do as a girlfriend and how easy it would be, how fun it would be. The places you could go eat in the new cities, holding hands walking down sidewalks, coming over whenever, not having to book double beds anymore, the possibilities were endless, you thought. And the sex… you shook the thought away, she’s your friend, best friend even. You couldn’t get her off your mind for at least fifteen minutes.

You turned over on your back, “Rhea?” you whispered so quietly, but there was no response. So you tried again, “Rhea,” a little louder this time.

She turned her head towards you, “you okay?” she whispered back.

“Yeah I’m fine, just had a question,” your heart was beating out of your chest it felt like.

She turned completely over facing you, “what’s up?”

“Were you serious?”

You could feel her staring at you in the darkness, “I’m gonna need more context, love.”

“When you said I was beautiful,” you couldn’t stop now even if you tried.

“Of course. I’ve always thought you were.”

“Yeah?”

You could tell she was smiling at you, “yeah.”

“Okay,” a few long seconds passed, “and about the girlfriend thing?”

“So you are in love with me! I knew it!” she said a little too excitedly.

“Woah woah, I never said that,” you face her.

She turned over and turned her light back on. The both of you winced at the sudden brightness. She turned back towards you seeing now that your face was red with embarrassment, “but I know you’ve thought it! Like I haven’t noticed the glances, the extra giggles at my jokes, the nervousness of the one bed. Oh no, what if she cuddles me?” she mocked.

You huffed as you tried to turn away from her.

“Uh uh,” she grabbed your chin and pulled you back, “you can’t even deny it!”

That movement sent chills down your body. Unfortunately, you didn’t have an answer.

“Well,” she let go of your face and pushed a loose strand behind your ear, “if it makes you feel better, I feel the same way,” she said softly.

Your eyes widened, “you can’t be serious.”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“Yes, actually multiple times about stupid stuff,” you sat up and situated yourself to face her.

“Okay, yeah maybe, but this is serious,” she sat up and mirrored your position.

“I don’t believe you,” you crossed you arms once more.

“Will you stop doing that,” she pulled your arms apart again, “and I am. I have been since I hired you. I couldn’t find the right time to tell you and I was worried that you wouldn’t feel the same and then it would be awkward.”

“I still feel like you’re kidding,” you said sadly.

She rolled her eyes as she huffed then suddenly cupped your face with both hands and pulled you in for kiss, “does that seem like joking to you?”

You were so shocked you couldn’t speak. Your mouth was open and you sat frozen trying to think of anything to say.

Now she was becoming embarrassed, “please say something because now I look crazy.”

But you still couldn’t, so you decided on something else. You grabbed her face and pulled her back in for another kiss. Her hands were on your thighs bracing herself. She quietly moaned into the kiss sending shivers down to your core. You didn’t know you needed to hear her do that, but you were grateful she did.

Your lips danced against hers like they were meant to be, you knew exactly what to do and exactly when to do it. Her breath was hot against your face, but you didn’t care. Her hand tangled itself in your hair and before you knew it, she was guiding your body to lay down beneath her. She easily straddled you, never breaking contact with your lips, until, “This okay?”

“Perfect,” you smile as she goes back to kissing you.

Small moans came from the both of you. Your hands felt your way down her back not wanting to go too far, but found themselves under her shirt feeling the muscles contract as her body moved against yours. And moving it was, she was slightly grinding against you which was driving you crazy. Your nails slightly dug into her back before grazing down to her thighs.

One of her hands caressed its way down your torso and under your waist band, teasing at going farther.

“Can I-” she breathed.

“Yes,” you whined a little too desperately.

She grinned as she slipped her hand under. Gently rubbing your center up and down, you moaned into her kiss.

You suddenly gained consciousness, and pushed her away, “wait wait…”

She immediately took her hand out and sat up with a look of concern, “did I do something wrong?”

“No, I just…” you couldn’t understand what you were feeling. You rubbed your eyes, “are you sure? or are you just doing this to…I don’t know,” you displayed your hands out shaking them to signify that you didn’t know what you were trying to say.

“Yes, I’m a thousand percent sure,” she sighed with relief, “when I first met you, I thought you were so pretty. As time went on though, we clicked so well that I couldn’t help falling in love with you. I just needed that push to tell you and weirdly, it was the ‘only one bed’ that helped me out,” her hands were placed on her thighs, trying to not shake with nervousness.

“And there was no other time?” you joked.

“Babes, if I coulda I woulda,” she joked back, “but yes, I’m sure.”

You lay in thought for a second scanning her face for any sign of uncertainty, luckily you couldn’t find any.

“Can we go back to what we were doing or are you going to ponder some more?” she mocked.

You giggled, “yes, sorry. Please continue.”

“Thank you,” with a huge smile, she bends over you again and kisses your neck. Her hands finds its way back to your waistband, sneaking its way in, “Still okay?”

“A thousand percent.”

Her hand caressed your center just right, drawing small circles making moans and whines fall out of you with ease.

“What do you like?” she whispered in your ear before going back to kissing your neck.

Your face immediately got hotter than it already was, so you didn’t answer in fear of embarrassment.

“I won’t continue unless you tell me,” she stopped her motions with her hand.

You huff, “Uhm…” you racked your brain to remember. It had been so long since someone even thought about kissing you, “I’m not sure.”

“Oh, c’mon,” she started moving her fingers again but ever so gently, “maybe some praise?”

“You can try that,” you were too embarrassed to say that it was what you wanted now that she said it.

“Yeah?” her hand felt down your wet folds before she continued on your clit, “I can do that.”

She kissed her way back up to your lips as her hand worked its magic. Your hands were tangled in her dark hair before one slid down her arm and told her hand to go inside. It followed orders and gently pushed inside of you.

You moaned loudly into her mouth when she began to slowly pump in and out of you.

“You feel so good, baby,” she smiled against your kiss.

That could’ve sent you over then edge right then but you didn’t want to seem too desperate, so you opted for a whine instead.

“Oh, you really liked that, should I say more?” she cooed.

You nodded your head biting your lip, “yess, fuck,” you forced out.

Her pace quickened so the moans became more frequent. Your eyes were already rolling to the back of your head, you couldn’t believe it.

“You’re doing so well, taking my fingers,” she growled this one out. You could tell Mami was coming out and you couldn’t wait much longer.

“God,” you breathed. Her fingers still plunging into you, you rode her hand and the pressure was quickly rising.

She smiled into the kiss once more when she quickened her pace so fast that you were rocking the bed.

“I can tell you’re close,” she huffed. Her head was slightly sweaty but it made her look even hotter. “So be a good girl, princess and cum for me.”

Your back arched, your toes curled, your eyes rolled, and the pressure finally released, “fffffuuuuck,” you whined.

She let you ride it out as long as it took, which was a few long seconds of you writhing underneath her. Her hand slowed as your breathing became more regular.

“That’s it,” she kissed your neck once more, “good girl.”

“Holy fuck,” you gasped as she pulled her hand out of your pants. She continued to kiss up your neck until meeting your lips for the last time.

“Was that okay?” she slipped off of you.

“That was…” you couldn’t really think, “crazy.”

“Yeah? Well we really have to go to bed now,” she sighed.

You looked at the clock and sighed with her, but then you immediately shot her a look, “we can nap instead of lunch tomorrow,” and you sprung up and straddled her.

“Oh shit,” she caught your thighs, then smiled at you devilishly, “deal.”

#rhea ripley #wwe #rhea ripley x reader #one bed trope

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burntheedges-updates · 10 months

Text

over again, chapter 2

This is my updates-only blog! Follow me at @burntheedges

Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: you fell in love with Joel Miller in Austin, Texas, in 2001, but you thought you lost him and your whole family in 2003 when the world turned upside down. now it's 2024, and you find the surprise of your life waiting for you in Jackson, Wyoming. or, five times you and Joel fell deeper in love, on both sides of the apocalypse (and one time you did something about it)18+ minors DNI chapter tags/warnings: fluff, light flirting, touching hands, hugs, cold/illness, light angst, a teensy bit of pining, teacher!reader (no specific details given in fic, it’s just your job from Before) a/n: This is Chapter 2: Breaking the Ice. I’ve done my best with the overall TLOU (show) timeline, but I can’t find a timeline that has the specific dates/months that Joel and Ellie passed through Jackson and returned. For the purposes of this fic they pass through in late November, 2023, and come back in April, 2024 (ish). Enjoy. :) word count: 7.4k

series main post | series playlist | ao3 | chapter 1 || chapter 3

Chapter 2: Breaking the Ice

Jackson, Spring 2024

You’ve been in Jackson almost four months when Joel and Ellie return. You have a couple of friends, but it hasn’t really been long enough to establish yourself in the community. You’re a bit of a loner. You mostly talk to Tommy, Maria, and some of the others who work the same jobs you do. Tommy vouched for you, which seems to have given you a real in with some of the people here, but you have to put in the work.

You’re still floating, still trying to settle, and not at all ready to return to teaching. You know Tommy told Maria about what you did Before but neither of them have bugged you about it. The idea of walking into a classroom fills you with both longing and dread and for now you’re still avoiding it completely. You and Tommy have both been surprised at how much you like working outdoors – you were truly an indoors-only person Before. The first time he caught you standing in a pile of horse manure three months ago he doubled over laughing and almost fell in it himself. You’re still getting used to being around someone who knows you so well.

Maria is slowly warming up to you, but she’s been a little distant since she realized stories about what Joel (and Tommy, not that she seems to mind that part) has been up to in the last 20 years don’t seem to phase you. You aren’t good enough friends yet to tell her the things you’ve done, the things you regret and the things you don’t. It’s not like you’ve been an angel yourself. You’re not surprised to learn that Joel did whatever it took to protect people, to survive and save his last remaining family member. You can imagine who he became when he thought you were dead along with Sarah. It’s the same thing that happened to you, after all. The same transformation.

After that first meeting at the gates (when you barely said anything at all to each other before Tommy swept all three of you away, ignoring Ellie’s obvious curiosity and her elbow to Joel’s side as you stared at each other in the road, unmoving) you don’t get a chance to really talk with Joel for a couple of days. You get it – you know Joel, the Dad. He’s settling Ellie in and your heart clenches because you can remember what he was like with Sarah. You haven’t thought about Sarah this much in years.

(That’s a lie – you think about her every single day. But not like this, with two people nearby who knew her, too. It’s different somehow and it’s making you feel things you thought you’d forgotten how to feel. It’s probably best for you to get over that feeling, that hurt, that initial reaction at a distance. You don’t want it to touch Ellie. She doesn’t know you.)

So Joel and Ellie move back into their house, which happens to be next door to yours because Tommy Miller will stop meddling when he’s dead. You don’t talk to Ellie that first day, but you and Joel make eye contact as he stands on his front porch and you stand in the road where Tommy just left you. His eyes are soft and dark and so familiar (and longed for) that it hurts. He takes a hesitant step towards you and speaks his first real words to you in 20 years. The sound of his voice still sends shivers down your spine.

“Can we– I can’t today, I’m sorry, I have to– Ellie–“

“I know, Joel,” you interrupt. “She needs to settle in, and she doesn’t know who I am. Take care of that first.” When you say his name you see it hit him and pin him in place. It was the same for you back at the gate. You drift a little closer to their porch steps.

“I’ve had a little bit longer to sit with the idea that– that you’re still alive. I’ve been here a few months. I’m not going anywhere, ok? We can talk later. Maybe in a couple of days?”

As you talk he’s searching your face and you feel yourself doing the same. Looking for the person you knew Before. At your offer, he looks relieved.

“Yeah, darlin’. In a couple of days.”

You can’t hide your reaction to the endearment or the feeling that washes over you, once-familiar and almost frightening as it echoes from Before. You think he might have surprised himself with it, too. When’s the last time he called anyone that? Maybe the last time you heard it. For a moment you just stare at each other.

It takes Ellie poking her head out the door to jumpstart you both back into action.

Joel heads inside and you head home, but you can hear her start to grill him about you as they close the door. (Who the hell is that?) It makes you smile.

…

You spend that night staring at the ceiling of your bedroom, completely unable to sleep. Joel is here, alive, probably 50 feet away from you and just knowing that keeps you awake. The following day you move from your house to work and back again in a daze, avoiding the dining hall, trying not to stare at their house or worry that Joel is avoiding you when you don’t see them. By the next morning, two mostly sleepless nights since Joel and Ellie walked through the gates of Jackson, you’re exhausted. You get dressed and find yourself standing in your front hallway, talking yourself down from going to lean on Tommy for some information. It’s only been two days, like 36 hours, get a fucking grip.

It’s convenient, then, that you’re so close to the door when someone unexpectedly knocks on it. As you open it, your heart leaps into your throat.

Joel Miller is on your porch. He looks flustered and worried. You can tell he’s been running his hands through his hair – it’s messy and going every which way, just like it used to whenever he was anxious about something. The only difference now is the brown is shot through with gray.

“Joel? Is everything alright?” As soon as the question leaves your mouth you feel a bit of deja vu, but you have no time to analyze the feeling before he steps towards you and you lose track of the thought at his proximity. You step back to let him in.

“I’m sorry, darlin’, I know we need to talk, but Ellie’s come down with something when we got back. I’ve been taking care of her. I didn’t want you to think I’ve been avoiding you.”

He’s twisting his hands together in front of him as he speaks and you notice one is shaking. You almost reach out to rest your hands on top of his to soothe him, but you stop yourself. You’re not ready to touch him like that and you doubt he’s ready to be touched. You clench your hands into fists and hide them behind your back instead.

“Oh no, is she alright? Do you need anything?”

You realize as you offer that you don’t know what help you, an outsider, could provide — everything is different than it was Before, when you would have been in the same house helping with the sick child from the start. You haven’t even really been around kids in years. It’s a weird feeling and you’re not sure what to do with it.

Joel shakes his head. “No, we’re fine, Tommy brought some things by yesterday and this morning, she’s already on the upswing.” He crosses his arms and sighs, looking down at the ground between you unhappily. “But I need to go talk to Maria and some others, and Tommy needs to be there with me, and, well. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind sitting with her for a bit?”

He looks up at you from under his eyelashes, a hesitant look on his face. “Or, um, sitting in the house, just in case she needs something. She’s in bed, you could stay on the couch. I know you don’t know each other yet but I wouldn’t ask anyone else here to do this.”

It doesn’t escape you that he said yet, that he implied you will get to know Ellie. It wakes something in you, something painful and raw and long-dormant, something you haven’t felt in 20 years. You have the sudden urge to run and hide and you twist your fingers behind your back, willing your feet to stay right where they are. It’s different somehow from the wave of emotion you felt a few months ago, sitting on the ground, tangled in your sleeping bag, shocked at the news that this man was still alive. It’s a feeling you’ve been running from since you realized Sarah must be dead.

But you’ve basically never said no to this man, not about anything important. You aren’t going to start now.

“Of course, Joel. I’ll follow you over.” That feeling of deja vu is back, and you wonder if he isn’t feeling it too, as he tilts his head at you with a contemplative look on his face. He nods and thanks you and turns to go.

You suddenly realize you’ve been reading his expressions and mannerisms this whole time and you don’t seem to have lost your fluency with it. You wonder if he can still read you just as well, and if he can, what he’s seeing. You’re not sure, yourself. You can’t imagine what you’re giving away.

You shut the door behind him and take a moment, forehead resetting against the wood, to just breathe.

…

When you arrive at the house next door, Joel calls for you to come in from somewhere upstairs and you take a moment to look around. They haven’t even been there two days and they already have some belongings visible in the living room. The kitchen is in a bit of disarray, the way it normally gets when a kid is sick. That feeling that almost sent you running hits again, like an echo. You close your eyes against the memories of Sarah and you miss Joel reappearing at the top of the stairs until he calls your name softly.

He’s stopped halfway down the stairs and beckons for you to follow him back up. You do and he leads you down the hall to what is clearly Ellie’s room – he goes straight in and sits beside her on the bed as you linger in the doorway.

“Ellie, this is—“

“I know who she is, Joel, you already told me,” she interrupts, rolling her eyes and then coughing a bit. The look of disdain she gives him is so classic teenager it takes your breath away. It’s so easy to recall Sarah doing the same thing. You can picture the same look on her face.

You breathe slowly through it and hope your reaction doesn’t show. You smile, weakly. Ellie is stone faced in response, and she glances at Joel, looking to him to take the lead. He’s looking at you. You gather yourself.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ellie, I’m sorry you’re feeling shitty.” She looks a little amused at your description but she doesn’t laugh. She’s clearly wary of you, which is fair. “I’m just going to be downstairs on the couch, call if you need anything, ok?”

With that you turn and head back downstairs, and you can see the relief in her expression as you do. You’re also relieved. She’s not comfortable around strangers, and for you the role of babysitter is sitting uncomfortably on your shoulders like an old coat that you outgrew and haven’t touched in years. You imagine it’s worse for her when she’s not feeling great.

You hear their low voices for a few minutes and then Joel reappears on the stairs, brow furrowed.

“Are you sure she’s ok with this? I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.” You have to ask.

He looks at you and his brow relaxes, softening a bit. “It’s fine. She’s done nothing but sleep and grill me about you for the last two days, coughing the whole time. She’s just not so great with strangers. I think her curiosity’ll take over, she always wants to know everything. Besides, she’ll probably fall asleep.” You nod as he moves past you towards the door. To your surprise, he reaches out to touch your arm, so softly and briefly you wonder if he even makes contact or if you’re imagining it. You shiver, resisting the urge to hug your arms across your chest. You know it would look like a rejection. “It should only be a couple of hours.”

“We’ll be fine, Joel.” Through the open front door you see Tommy waiting for him outside, and he nods and winks at you before he and Joel make their way towards the center of town. You roll your eyes in response.

…

You spend the first fifteen minutes after they leave sitting on the couch, staring at the ceiling, thoughts racing. Something about this feels so much like Before it’s making you anxious, but you’re exhausted and you’ve spent 20 years burying or shying away from those memories. You can’t immediately recall why. When it gets to be too much you stand and head into the kitchen, looking for something to do with your hands. Thankfully there’s a pile of dishes waiting for you.

You’re almost done with the dishes, successfully avoiding thinking too hard about Before – or now, or anything at all – when you hear something and turn off the water to listen more closely. You hear your name called softly from upstairs and immediately dry your hands to go see what Ellie needs.

When you arrive in her doorway she’s sitting up and fidgeting.

“Hey, what do you need?” You put what is hopefully a neutral and helpful look on your face. You haven’t dealt with a teenager in decades but you remember well how they see through pretense. Sarah never turned down a chance to call any of you on your bullshit.

She eyes you for a moment, glancing back at her lap where she’s gripping the blanket tightly, before saying, “Can I– Can I ask you some questions? About Before.”

Your eyes widen a little, you can’t help it, but you don’t want to shut her down. Before she can take your expression, whatever it is, as a rejection you say yes and move a little further into the room. She tenses.

“Sorry, I’ll stay over here. Can I get a chair?” She regards you silently for a moment, and then points to the corner to your right where you haven’t looked yet. There’s a chair with a jacket slung over the back. You nod and take a seat.

“Ask away.”

She’s quiet for a moment, looking like she’s thinking. “So you were going to get married, Before. Right?”

You nod. “Right. Joel proposed in 2002, in December. He meant to do it on New Year’s Eve but he couldn’t wait and proposed early.” Ellie snorts, and then coughs a little bit. You keep yourself from moving towards her to hand her the glass of water on her nightstand. She doesn’t know you. And she’s a teenager, not a little kid. She’s older than Sarah. Don’t think about it.

“That sounds… romantic?” Her tone says that the idea of Joel doing something romantic is so outlandish as to be impossible.

You smile, a little bit sadly. “I know I’m different now, so I imagine he is, too. But he was always a huge romantic. We knew each other for a while before we actually got together, but once we were dating, it was like he couldn’t help it.” You’re suddenly glad you’ve had three months to think about him being alive. This conversation would have felt impossible when you first arrived in Jackson. Now it’s possible, just difficult.

“What, did he like, give you flowers?” The look on her face says she considers this unbelievable and slightly offensive, which reminds you so strongly of 13-year old Sarah you have to take a deep breath. You look away to make it seem like you need to think.

“No, well, he did a few times. But it was other things.”

“Like what?”

“He… well, he took me dancing. For our first date, and then pretty often afterwards.”

“Dancing?” She’s incredulous. “No way, I refuse to believe that old man can dance.”

You can’t help but grin. “Yeah, dancing. That old man has moves.”

She scoffs and asks what else, clearly moving on from the dancing. For now, you assume.

“Well, we were both bad at remembering dates, but he never let an important date pass without doing something special anyway. He used to do little things for me before I even noticed they needed to be done, especially around the house. He never held back from telling me how he felt. He made it clear how important I was to him, and how much he liked having me in his life, by making space for me in it. I don’t know how much you want to hear about it, but … yeah, the man’s a romantic. No question.” You pause, and smile a little wryly. “Tommy can back me up, and his version’ll probably be way funnier. At our expense.” You feel something inside you start to thaw as you let yourself remember Joel this way.

Ellie looks like she's trying to hide a smile, which you count as a win. Then her expression shifts, and something makes you a little wary with how she sets her shoulders, readying herself to ask another question.

“D'you want to get back together?” The look on her face says she isn’t sure that’s what she wants. Not at all.

You suddenly feel like you’re on a tightrope. You’re out of breath even though you haven’t moved an inch. You know you have to give the right answer here. But you aren’t even sure what it is for yourself, let alone for Ellie. Before you saw Joel at the gates you’d decided you wouldn’t let this second chance pass you by, but what does that actually mean, practically? For the people you are now?

“Ok, that’s a tough question, and no, I’m not blowing you off. I’m just going to be honest, ok?” You look down, lacing your hands together in your lap.

“Joel and I were so in love, like head over heels for each other, 20 years ago. We both thought the other person died, and our kid did die. I’m… in shock right now. I think he is, too. I found out he was alive a few months ago, he found out I’m alive two days ago. Nothing feels straightforward or clear." You squeeze your hands together and clear your throat.

“I think we knew each other well enough to know what our lives might have been like in between, what we might have done. Or had to do. Maybe we imagined it sometimes. Um.” You pause to take a deep breath and glance up. Ellie is looking down at her hands. You can’t tell how this is going over with her but you keep going anyway.

“To answer your question… I never stopped loving him. He’s the love of my life. But I can’t say for sure what we’ll do until we talk, which we will at some point. It’s– it’s been too long to assume anything. To think everything is the same.” Your hands are shaking. You think you might be rambling, so you pause to get back on track.

“But that’s not the most important thing right now. You need to get better and you both need to settle in, you know? That’s his focus. As it should be. And I know he’ll talk to you about it. Whatever happens. I’m sorry I don’t have a– a clear answer.”

Your heart is beating fast as you finish. You can feel it in your throat.

Ellie is frowning as she meets your eyes again. She looks lost, her voice almost a whisper as she says, “I don’t… he has Tommy. And now you.” This admission clearly costs her, and she crosses her arms and looks away from you.

Suddenly you think you understand the conversation you’ve been having. You’re surprised and a little warmed by the fact that she was willing to say that to you at all.

“Ellie, I might not know everything about what Joel’s life has been like for the last 20 years – not yet, anyway – but I do know what that man looks like when he’s being a parent.” You think you see her suck in a breath at your words. You swallow and continue, “it looks the same now as it did then. And yeah, you don’t know me, but I knew him, and going by my own experience? That part of him is still in there. I can see it. As far as that man is concerned, you’re his kid. No question about it. And that’s not something we take back. It just is, ok? It’s forever and it’s unconditional. I promise you, it never goes away. Not for us.”

…

After your conversation with Ellie, which you’re hoping went well but you’re honestly not sure, you’re completely wrung out and over your own feelings. You spend about 45 minutes puttering around the kitchen and living room to avoid feeling any more of them before you hear footsteps on the porch.

Joel opens the door, looking around and spotting you quickly. He looks worried, but his expression clears a little when he finds you sitting at the kitchen table. “Hey, everything alright?”

“Yes, everything's fine. She didn’t have another coughing fit, we chatted for a little bit and then she fell back asleep.” His eyebrows raise when you say you talked to Ellie. As he takes the seat across from you his boot nudges yours under the table and then moves away. You try to ignore the effect that tiny touch has on you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It went well, I think? You’ll probably hear about it either way.” You finish with a little bit of a rueful smile, hoping she’s warming up to you and not the opposite.

Joel smiles a bit in response. “Thank you again, darlin’. I couldn’t put them off anymore and I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to be here with her.” He sighs, running his hand through his hair.

“To be honest with you, I’m still in shock that you’re here for me to ask. I… well. It feels a little bit too good to be true.” He looks uncertain as he says it. You nod. You feel the same way.

“I know. I… it’s kind of surreal? I want…” you hesitate, but he’s watching you like nothing could be more important than how you finish that sentence. You decide to just let it all out. It’s worked for you so far today.

“I know it’s been 20 years, Joel, but part of me has felt like everything is the same from the moment I saw you, which is confusing as hell, because the other part of me knows it can’t be and it isn’t. You don’t know what I’ve done, I don’t know what you’ve done. We’re not the same people. Even if it feels like it. Even if looking at you and hearing your voice feels—“ You clear your throat and look away.

“Even if it feels the same. Even if I want… Even if…” you trail off, not sure if you’re ready to finish that sentence, after all. You realize you’re gripping your hands together so tight it hurts, and you slowly relax them and flatten them on the table in front of you. You take a breath before continuing, gaze trained on your hands.

“It’s like we hit pause 20 years ago and neither of us knew for sure what happened so there was no closure, no clear explanation. I don’t know about you, but I don’t know how to bridge that time with now. How to remember that version of me, the one you knew, and be this me. How to… Joel, so much happened, and I imagined so many versions of you. What our lives would have been like.” You take a deep breath. “I guess that’s what we need to talk about.”

You look over, gaze low to avoid his eyes, and see Joel is clenching his fists a bit, like he’s holding back. You’d like to think it’s from reaching towards you but maybe that’s just wishful thinking. Maybe you shouldn’t assume you’re reading him as well as you think you are. Maybe you need to spend more time reminding yourself of the things you don’t know about this man.

Before your thoughts can spiral too far, though, he does reach out. You watch as his fists relax and you track the movement of his hand as it lifts from the table and slowly extends towards yours. He’s trembling, you notice, and then you realize you are too. You can’t tear your eyes away as his fingertips lightly touch the back of your left hand where it rests on the table. You feel all of the hair on your arms stand up in response.

“Darlin’, I…” he pauses, and you both hold your breath as your eyes meet.

Time slows to a crawl. He puts more gentle pressure into your connection, sliding his hand over the back of yours, touching you with intent for the first time in two decades. His thumb moves lightly back and forth over your wrist, a soothing motion. All of your focus narrows to that point of connection, even as his gaze pins you in place. You can’t look away.

Holy hell. His hand fully covers yours and squeezes. After the two barely-there touches you’ve shared today it feels almost obscene. His hand on yours in the present calls up memories of his hands on you Before and you're dizzy, spinning through your memories. You didn’t know you could still feel this way. Not even for Joel.

He opens his mouth to say something and your gaze drops to his lips. You’re desperate to hear it, whatever it is, when suddenly the moment pops like a soap bubble as the more annoying Miller sticks his head in the front door.

“Joel! I brought food. Oh! Hey there, sunshine.” He greets you, and then grins at you. “Am I interrupting something?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you, which is so absurd it kickstarts you back into motion. You need to get out of here.

“No!” You say a bit too loudly as you leap to your feet, breaking your connection with Joel. You feel its absence immediately. Your hand is tingling. “I should get going, I don’t want to intrude and I want Ellie to be comfortable so she can get better. Joel, I– do you want–“

He interrupts you and catches your eye to hold you in place, but he doesn’t move his hands from the table. “Yes, I do.” You’re glad he does. You aren’t actually sure what you were going to ask, but at least you’re in agreement about it, whatever it is. “We still need to talk. I’ll find you tomorrow?”

You nod, a bit wildly. “I’ll be at the stables all day but I should be home around four.” He smiles at you, starting to stand, and you make a beeline for the door, elbowing Tommy a bit as you pass him. He makes a big show of staggering away, moaning and overselling it, but he deserves it anyway.

As you turn onto the road, you can’t help but glance back at the house you’ve just left. The sight that greets you stops you in your tracks – Joel is leaning against his own open door frame, arms crossed, looking pensive as he watches you walk home.

Suddenly it hits you, your tired mind finally recalling the reason for all of the deja vu, and your spine stiffens as you inhale quickly in surprise. You almost call out to ask Joel if he remembers. He has to, right? It’s basically what got you together Before and the similarities are almost too much for you to believe. Your eyes move down and back up, looking around the porch, taking him in. All it took to break the tension the first time around and get you to actually start something together was a sick kid.

As you meet his eyes again you’re sure that you’re both remembering it. He can see your moment of realization, and after that moment in the kitchen, you know he can still read you. The expression on his face is complex but you see affection and regret, weighed down by all the memories you share. He tilts his head and smiles at you, a bit ruefully. You smile in response, hugging your arms around yourself.

All of your nerves and your worries about your upcoming conversation fall away – you still have enough in common with this man that you can have this conversation, without words, 20 feet apart. 20 years apart.

A moment ago you felt like the last few hours had scraped to the bottom of your emotional reserves and left you empty. But the smile you and Joel share sparks something inside you and you’re filled with a sweet, tentative anticipation that you barely know what to do with. It’s been years since you felt anything like it.

Tomorrow.

…

Austin, Spring 2001

You were setting your coffee down on your desk, mentally starting your to-do list, when you were surprised by a knock at your front door.

A peek through your curtains revealed your neighbor, Joel Miller, pacing agitatedly on your front porch.

Ever since you met on the day you moved in almost six months ago Joel had been nothing but welcoming. And from the moment you met his eyes that day you knew you were in trouble.

In some ways, you were typical, friendly neighbors. You saw the Millers almost every day, if only to wave at each other from your driveways on busy mornings. You’d been over to babysit Sarah for a short afternoon or evening a few times. They even had you over for a welcome-to-town dinner early on and you’d traded dinner at each other’s homes about once a month after that.

But what was going to get you in trouble was Joel the Handyman. He did end up fixing some of your bookshelves after the movers broke them – stop apologizing, darlin’, I told you I’m happy to help – which led to him fixing more and more things around your house. Every time he came over to fix something he would spot another creaky cabinet door or leaky faucet or crooked light fixture and promise to come back another day to take care of it. You’d swear he came over to fix something every week. At this point you were surprised there was anything left to fix.

You always sat nearby while he worked and the two of you talked about anything and everything – whatever funny thing your students had done that week, how Sarah was doing (with school and with soccer and with everything else), Joel’s frustrations at work, Tommy’s latest escapades. Sometimes it felt like Joel knew more about you and your day-to-day life than anyone, since your friendships at work were still new and you’d moved far away from everyone who knew you at home when you took this job. You always ended up talking for much longer than it took Joel to finish whatever task he’d had in mind, usually sitting together on your back porch or at your kitchen table until he absolutely had to go.

(His visits also gave you the opportunity to watch him work – to watch him flex his shoulders and arms and to admire the muscles in his back and thighs, (mostly) unnoticed. You’d feel bad about it if you hadn’t caught him with his gaze locked on your legs in your house shorts more than once. And then there was the time he’d come over to fix the ceiling fan – he’d climbed a ladder in your living room while you stood nearby to hand him his tools. His chest had been only a foot or so away from your face and when he’d raised his arms his t-shirt had lifted far, far above his jeans. You’d lost track of the conversation, eyes locked on the dark trail of hair that disappeared into the band of his exposed briefs. You’d vaguely thanked whatever deity might be out there that he had forgotten to wear a belt that day. As he stood on his toes and shifted his hips his jeans had slipped a little lower, showing you just a hint of an outline of something you had to stop yourself from picturing. You’d gone quiet, distracted and far away until he coughed lightly and your eyes shot back up to his face.

“Still with me, darlin?” He’d smirked at you, knowingly, but had gotten right back to work after, continuing the conversation like nothing had happened.)

It felt like you were always catching each other trading looks. The flirtation you’d started that day next to the moving truck hadn’t turned into anything more, but it also hadn’t faded into anything less.

Pacing on your porch that morning, Joel looked as handsome as always, but he was clearly distressed. His normally only somewhat unruly curly hair stood on end as if he’d been tugging at it.

“Morning Joel, something I can do for you?” you asked as you swung the door open and invited him in. Despite how frequently he’d been in your home to fix things it was still a surprise to see him before 8:00 AM on a Tuesday.

“I’m sorry to bother you, darlin’, but I’m in a bit of a bind. Are you working from home today?” Joel asked as he stepped inside.

“Yes, is everything alright?” It was clear that Joel was trying to be polite but something was making him more anxious than you’d ever seen him. He was alternately twisting his hands together or running his hands through his hair as he shifted his weight.

“It’s Sarah. She—“

“Oh no, what happened?”

“She’s just sick, so she can’t go to school but Tommy can’t be here today and I have to go to a job site for a couple of hours. I managed to reschedule some meetings but not everything. Could you possibly come work over at mine for a bit, keep an eye on her? She’ll probably sleep the whole time, you know, but I just don’t want her to be alone, she’s not old enough yet–”

“Joel, of course, I’d be happy to,” you cut him off, trying to reassure him with a smile. “Take your time, I’ve just got a day of grading and reading planned. I can be there for her if she needs me.”

The look of sheer relief that broke across Joel’s face surprised you as he leaned forward, grabbing your shoulders and resting his forehead against yours. Your breath caught in your throat.

“Oh thank you so much, darlin’. I swear I’ll call as soon as I’m on my way back. Do you need help grabbing anything?”

As he stepped back Joel raised his left hand and trailed his thumb across your cheek lightly, almost so light you couldn’t feel it, then brushed his fingertips down your neck. You felt your focus narrow to the point where he touched your face before he stepped away, putting more space between you. Your whole body shivered. This is not the time for that. You blinked a few times.

“Oh, um, no I’ve got it. I’ll pack up and be there in a minute.” Get it together.

…

About 10 minutes later you were raising your hand to knock at the Millers’ front door when Joel flung it open in front of you and invited you in.

“Sarah’s back asleep upstairs,” he said in a low voice, “but I woke her up when I got back to let her know you’re here. Feel free to set up wherever you’d like. You can check on her in about an hour – I wrote down what meds she’s had and when she can have them again over here on the counter. I’ll call you in a couple of hours. But call me if you need anything at all, ok? And if she gets worse. And you know where everything is, I know–“

“Joel. Don’t worry, we got this.” You smiled and reached out to squeeze his upper arm, trying to reassure him.

“I know you do, I know, it’s just—“ he looked worriedly up the stairs before he sighed, shoulders dropping a little, and quickly rubbing his hands over his face. He started to turn towards the door.

“I know, Joel. It’s Sarah. But I got this, ok? I’m here for you.”

Joel paused, midway through his turn towards the door, and looked back at you. He tilted his head as he considered you, an unreadable expression on his face.

“I know, darlin’. You always are.” He said, almost too quietly for you to hear. “I’ll —“

“You’ll call me, I know. Now get out of here, Joel Miller.” You pointed playfully at the door. Joel cracked the first weak smile you’d seen on him all morning, nodded his head, and left.

…

You’d been working your way through your students’ papers for about 45 minutes when there was some movement upstairs. You quickly set everything down on the couch and moved towards the stairs. “Sarah? Are you awake, sweetheart?” You heard a quiet response but couldn’t quite make it out, so you headed up the stairs to check on her.

You found Sarah sitting on her bed, looking a bit woozy and still mostly asleep. “Hi. I have to pee but I’m kinda dizzy.” Her voice was soft and scratchy and she sounded congested.

“Let me help you. I’ll get you some water after, alright? And you can have more medicine and get back to sleep until lunch.” Sarah nodded sleepily and leaned on you as you moved towards the bathroom together.

“This is kinda embarrassing,” she said softly, and you laughed.

“More embarrassing than the Great Tampon Panic of 2000?” You nudged her softly with your elbow and she laughed, and then coughed.

“Don’t make me laugh! No, nothing can beat the way dad lost it that day.”

You smiled, knowing you were probably both remembering Joel’s panicked sprint to your house over the summer when Sarah got her first period and the ensuing chaos. You had been living next door for about a month and you were all more comfortable around each other after that.

After a successful, if slow, bathroom trip, you got Sarah another dose of her medicine and tucked her back into bed. “I’ll be right downstairs, ok? I’ll check on you again soon.” You ran your hand lightly over her forehead and hair to soothe her, but also to see if she was warm. She didn’t feel hot under your hand. Sarah nodded and was soon asleep once again.

…

Joel didn’t manage to call until about two hours later.

“I’m so sorry, darlin’, I wanted to call an hour ago but I got caught up. How’s my girl?”

“She’s alright. We had a short bathroom break and another round of cold meds and she’s asleep again. I updated your note.”

Joel sighed, sounding more tired than you’d ever heard him. “I'm hoping to leave in the next half hour, so I’ll see you soon, alright?”

“We’ll be here.”

…

Much later, around dusk, you were finishing up a stack of assignments when you heard a key in the front door. You set everything aside and turned to see Joel quietly shutting the door behind him.

“Welcome back.”

“Hey, darlin’, how’s she doing?” he asked, setting his keys on the table by the door and stopping to remove his boots.

“She’s been asleep since she had some toast around lunch time. I peeked in there about 15 minutes ago but she was still out.”

He sighed, and looked towards the stairs, brow furrowed and clearly worried. “I was hoping she’d sleep it off.”

“She could still be doing that. When I did talk to her earlier she was groggy but still herself – she told me not to make her laugh because it made her cough.” You smiled a little. “And she didn’t have a fever when I checked a little while ago.”

Joel nodded and turned back to look at you. “Even when she feels terrible she’s still a force of nature. I can’t thank you enough, darlin’. I know it was a lot, and it took me longer than I hoped, but–“

“Joel, it was fine.” You cut him off. “It wasn’t a lot, it wasn’t even that long at all, and I did just what I would have done anyway.” You tilted your head towards your stack of graded papers on the couch. Joel turned fully towards you, hands on his hips, and tilted his head while he considered you. The unreadable face was back.

“You look mighty comfortable over there.”

“Oh sorry, let me clean up—“

“No, darlin’, that’s not what I meant. No need to rush out. It’s a good thing. You look good. Over there, I mean. Um.” He smiled at you, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, looking a bit sheepish. You knew what you wanted that to mean but you weren’t sure he meant it that way. Did you look good, or look good here, comfortable on his couch, in his home? You felt your face start to warm as you smiled at each other.

“Can I help with anything before I go?” You ducked your head a little and started shoving your papers into your bag.

“No, I’ve got it. I’d invite you to stay for dinner as thanks, but I don’t think anyone in this household will be much company today. Next week, ok? Come over for dinner, maybe Sunday? Give her some time to get better first.” He took a couple of steps towards you, watching as you packed up your things.

“You don’t have to thank me, Joel–“

“Come for dinner,” he interrupted you, catching your eye. “Please.”

You stood and found yourself only a foot or so away from him, which didn’t help you calm your reaction to him. “Ok, ok, you know I’d love to.” You smiled and Joel smiled in response. “I don’t need convincing.”

Looking satisfied, Joel turned and led the way to the door. You grabbed your bag and followed, noticing he was standing a little taller than he had been that morning.

You started to move past him towards the door, but before you could, Joel suddenly reached out and pulled you into a hug. You found yourself with your arms circling his waist as he placed one hand securely at your lower back and used the other to gently cup the back of your head. You pressed your face to his shoulder. So quietly you almost missed it, he whispered, “Thank you again, darlin’. I was still worried, of course, but I felt so much better knowing it was you here with my girl all day.”

You couldn’t help it – you sank into his arms a little, returning the hug tightly. “It’s never a problem, Joel. You know I love that girl.”

You felt more than heard a little hitch in his breath as he paused before slowly stepping out of the embrace. “Yeah, I reckon I do. We’ll see you Sunday, right? Let’s say 6.”

“I’ll be here.” You smiled, touched his forearm briefly, and headed out the door.

You felt his eyes on you the whole way to your front door, and glanced back as you dug out your keys to find him leaning against his own door frame, watching you. When he saw you turn he smiled a little and raised a hand to wave, finally ducking inside his own house only when you did the same. It felt like something had shifted. Something more was brewing between the two of you.

Sunday.

...

a/n: see you next Sunday for chapter 3! I decided not to split this or the next one half, so the next chapter has parts in Jackson and in Austin. Also, fun fact - this Austin section for chapter 2 was the first part of this fic I wrote, back in April.

Tag list:

@morgaussy @jay-zzle @bluetattoos

chapter 3 is posted!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #over again fic #my fic #x reader

177 notes · View notes

lesgetittkookie · 2 years

Text

redamancy - jjk (part II)

⤖ genre: fluff, future smut, angst, gardener!jeongguk x rich!reader, okay but jeongguk isn't really a gardener like that but you'll see, kinda slow burn but not really

⤖ pairing: jeongguk x female reader

⤖ rating: 18+

⤖word count: approx. 12.2 k words

⤖ warnings: explicit language

summary: jeongguk is just a normal dude with a simple routine. wake up, go to the gym, work his job as a waiter at this posh upscale restaurant in the heart of gangnam before coming home to a night full of video games and ramen (it's delicious and cheap). that routine gets disrupted when he accidentally taps the back of an expensive sports car of one of the richest men in south korea. considering he's broke, he couldn't afford to pay for the damages so the man makes a deal with him by offering him to work at his house as one of the gardeners. jeongguk takes it but wasn't prepared to meet this beautiful young woman who's constantly lounging by the pool, you, the rich man's daughter.

author's note: hiiii here we are with part 2!! i just want to say that when i originally started this story, i did not intend for them to immediately jump into things. after outlining this story, i didn't realize it would be kind of slow burn. but honestly tho, it's really not that much of a slow burn. i hope you guys enjoy part 2. i have to be honest and say i had trouble writing it at first because i just wasn't satisfied with how it was turning out. i also didn't expect it to be this long but here we are lol. on a side note, i've noticed people saying that they'd like to be added to the taglist which i've actually never made before. but if you want to be added to the taglist, please send me an ask. have a lovely day!

Your legs felt like they were ready to give out at any moment. With the lack of food in your system and the amount of walking you’ve done, you’re just about ready to collapse to the ground. Meanwhile your mother continues ahead of you, happy to step into the next shop to search for more clothes.

It was a pain shopping with your mother. She must take her sweet time, having the store employees bring her clothes so she can scrutinize them one by one until there’s something deemed to her liking or approval.

You just came out of the Hermes store after what seems like an hour later, your mother having bought four new purses because according to her, “My other Hermes bags are in poor condition.” Though you know it was an excuse to buy four other colors so she can match them with her outfits. If there’s one thing your mother isn’t, that is an outfit repeater. You would never catch her wearing the same outfit in public more than once.

You love your mother, you really do. It makes you happy to spend time with her, especially since you were away from her for so long. However, her way of spending time with you is by going shopping whereas all you want to do is sit in and watch a movie with her. You don’t think this woman has ever actually sat down to watch a movie since you were a kid.

It’s been a few days since you’ve been home. There hasn’t been much going on other than you watching Netflix in the theater room you guys have in the house and munching on whatever the home chefs have cooked.

Your mother walked in on you eating a pint of the brown sugar brittle ice cream while binging the latest Korean drama people have been raving about on social media. With a disapproving look, she had told you she wants to go shopping because ‘it’s been a while since we’ve had a mother-daughter day, my love.’

Hence, here you are trudging behind your mother who is dressed to the nines with not a single hair out of place. Meanwhile you’re clad in a black turtleneck dress topped with an oversized dark grey blazer that reaches your mid-thigh. A large buckle is cinched around your waist, and you’ve got on a pair of black platform boots that go slightly above your ankles. In your hand you hold a black leather quilted Chanel bag.

It's a requirement from your mother to be dressed up whenever the two of you go out because, ‘Y/N, it would be embarrassing if a fashion mogul’s daughter were to wear such basic clothing.’ Not that you have any complaints, you enjoy dressing up. You have the money and privilege to buy nice clothing you might as well take advantage of it.

More than yourself, you feel bad for your mother’s assistant who is walking beside her with at least ten bags in her hands from all the designer shops you’ve visited. You insisted on helping her carry some of them, but she just wouldn’t budge. Probably too afraid to hand you a bag in front of your mother.

You need some form of food or beverage in your system before you pass out. You call for your mother before she enters the MAC makeup store, causing her to stop in her tracks and look at you expectantly with a raised eyebrow.

“Mother, you can look through this store while I get a drink from that café we just passed,” you tell her, referring your hand to the coffee shop two stores behind.

She raises her eyebrows, gaze switching between the café and you before speaking, “Sweetheart, we have reservations at Pierre Gagnaire à Séoul at seven.” She taps her manicured nail on top of her Rolex watch to point out the time being six-thirty.

You purse your lips, eyes shutting so you don’t end up rolling them at her, “It’s just a drink, mother.”

“Drink that is probably made with cheap ingredients. I’m sure the French restaurant has a—” She starts but you interrupt her before she can finish.

“Mother, I’m just really thirsty right now and would like a drink,” Voice controlled in attempt to not sound too irritated with her, you give her a tight-lipped smile.

She lets out a defeated sigh, looking at her assistant who just shrugs in response. “Fine but be quick.” And with that, her assistant opens the door of the shop, bags rustling on her elbow and your mother disappears inside.

Shoulders relaxing and a breath of relief escaping your lips, you head inside of the café. The sweet smell of pastries and coffee immediately fill your nostrils, making you smile in delight. The atmosphere is nice and cozy, korean ballads playing on the speakers.

“Okay so what other suggestions do you have?” Jimin asks Taehyung incredulously, straw touching his pursed lips.

“How about sky diving?” Taehyung responds, slurping his strawberry crème Frappuccino loudly. It’s quiet for a moment, causing him to look up between his friends, “What?” He wonders in genuine confusion.

Jeongguk just shakes his head tiredly, drinking his own mocha frappe and enjoying the frozen taste of the chocolatey beverage swirled with a hint of bitterness. He’s more of a Frappuccino and juice kind of guy over lattes and americanos. He doesn’t understand how his friends drink that nasty stuff.

The three of them are currently sitting in a booth of a coffee shop they frequent at since it’s close to the record store their friend, Yoongi, owns. Well, also because their Jin hyung is the manager here and he’s currently working at the front. They can hear his windshield wiper laugh at something one of the old men playing chess by the window said.

Jeongguk met up with the other two after finishing his shift at the restaurant he works at. Luckily, he didn’t have to go to the Kim’s estate today for his gardening job. Taehyung was coming from his job where he works at a pottery studio whereas Jimin just finished teaching a dance class. The three of them were talking about things they can do for Jeongguk’s birthday which happens to be in a few weeks.

Jeongguk insisted it was too early to even plan anything, but Jimin insisted that they should at least have some form of idea for what they can do. Being the angel that Jimin is, he would never let any of their friends not celebrate their birthday. He was the one who started the whole celebration tradition every time someone in their friend group’s birthday came around.

“Tae,” Jimin holds is head in his hand, “You do realize Jin hyung and Hobi hyung would never do that.”

“Sure they would,” Taehyung quips enthusiastically, mouth wrapping around the straw again to slurp his drink.

“No,” Jeongguk shakes head, “They won’t. They would piss themselves before we’d even get on the plane.” He looks at Jimin, “Why do we even ask him for suggestions? You know he always has spontaneous ideas.”

With an offended look, hand on his chest, Taehyung says, “My ideas are always fun. It’s not my fault you guys are pussies.”

“We can’t even afford to go sky driving, you fool.” Jimin tells him and Taehyung pauses in place, mouth open in thought for a few seconds.

“Wait, you’re right. We’re too poor for that.” Taehyung deflates, leaning his back against the cushioned booth.

“Look, we still have time, hyung. And you know me,” Jeongguk leans back against the cushion as well, twirling his straw in his drink, “My birthday isn’t a big deal. We can just hang out at Jin hyung’s apartment or something.” He suggests.

“Yah! Why do you guys always wanna celebrate at my apartment?” The handsome man in question interrupts, walking up next to their table. There was a black apron wrapped around his waist, indicating that he was still on his shift.

“Because your apartment is the biggest out of everyone’s,” Jeongguk tells him matter-of-factly, scooting over with an irritated sigh when Jin shoves him aside so he can sit down.

“So what? You guys always make a ruckus every time you come over,” Jin whines, “Remember last time when you were at my house. I had complaints from the floors above and below and my neighbors next door.”

“It’s not our fault Jimin hyung was cheating in monopoly,” Taehyung remarks and Jimin gasps out of offense.

“For the millionth, I was not cheating!” He defends but the three of them still don’t believe it. There was no way he was able to win all those properties.

“Yeah yeah,” Jin waves off, “Whatever you say.” Jimin just pouts in return, arms crossing over his chest as he leans back against the booth.

“You guys are dickheads, full offense,” Jimin sneers at all of them. “You have no faith that I can win at a game just because I—” He’s cut off by a loud gasp coming from Taehyung, startling all of them.

“What is it?” Jeongguk asks curiously, taking in his friend’s agape jaw as he stares passed them towards something at the front.

“Did Mr. Lee flip the table again after losing in chess?” Jin groans, about to stand up so he can break up the fight between the two old men again.

Those chess games are always intense. Last time Jeongguk was at the coffee shop, he saw Mr. Lee raise his cane at the other man out of anger but before he can smack him, Jin had to step in between only to get whacked in the head. Jeongguk could’ve sworn that he was going to die of laughter that day.

“No dude…” Taehyung leans his cheek on his palm and sighs dreamily, “There’s this really pretty girl who just ordered at the cash register and she’s holding one of those leather quilted Chanel bags.�� They all shake their heads at him because he’s so damn dramatic.

“No way,” Jin grunts, “Every customer I served today was old and smelled like—”

“Holy shit, she’s got the cutest face,” Taehyung pants and everyone at the table grows curious. Jimin scoots all the way down until he’s sticking his head out the booth like Taehyung to see what he’s talking about.

“Oh, he’s not kidding,” Jimin stares along with the boy.

This peaks Jeongguk and Jin’s interest, causing them to turn their heads and look as well. Jeongguk follows their line of vision, eyes widening in recognition because it’s you. You’re standing there in front of the pick-up counter, dressed in stylish clothes that are most likely very expensive. Your eyes wander around the coffee shop, a small smile playing on your lips as you wait for your order

Jin whistles, mouth open as well, “She looks expensive.” He comments.

“She is,” Jeongguk responds, causing the three of the guys to look at him questioningly, “That’s Mr. Kim’s daughter.”

“That’s her?” Jimin gawks.

“You weren’t kidding about how hot she is,” Jin adds.

Jeongguk doesn’t look away, watching how you hold the door open for an elder lady whose hands were full, offering to help her out. The lady shakes her head with a smile on her face and you lightly bow your head in return, giving her a sweet smile.

He’s been seeing you by the pool from time to time. It’s been a few days since he first met you. You guys didn’t interact much. Whenever you were around one another, you would greet each other with a smile or wave but nothing more. You’d say hi to Jeongguk whenever you were sitting by the pool and he’d wave back, trying not to stare at you for too long because he didn’t want to look like a creep. He just couldn’t himself sometimes and peek some glances at you reading a book, clothed in a new swimsuit. Some of them would show a little more cleavage than normal and he’d try not to look.

Sometimes he would see Dohyun attempt to conversate with you, stuttering out of nervousness but you were never rude about it, just responding back politely to the boy.

You genuinely seemed like a nice person much to Jeongguk’s surprise. He would’ve thought the daughter of a rich family like yours would be stuck up and snobby. But you weren’t. You seemed to be independent, doing things yourself without the help of the butlers or maids in the house.

“Dude…” Taehyung whispers, “I can’t believe you get to see her whenever you’re working. You must be jerking off somewhere in private.”

Jeongguk looks at him with furrowed brows and a scowl on his face, “Listen, there’s a time and place for jerking off and it wouldn’t be at their house.”

“Ahhh so you admit you do that when you leave from there?” Jin smirks but Jeongguk just glares in return.

“I can’t stand you guys sometimes,” He mumbles, peaking at you one more time before looking down at the table again.

He would’ve loved to talk to you more but for some reason, he’s been hesitant. He doesn’t know if it’s because you’re basically the daughter of his boss and he’d get in trouble for talking with you, let alone being near you.. Or he’s just intimidated by you for some reason even though you look like you wouldn’t even harm a fly.

“What was her name again?” Jimin asks.

“Y/N…” Jeongguk mumbles.

“Don’t worry dude, I’ll help you out,” Taehyung reassures and Jeongguk just looks at him confused before his eyes widen because— “Hey Y/N! Over here!”

Jeongguk wants to die. He wants the ground to open a hole and swallow him. He wants to disappear for good. Maybe move to Amsterdam. But before running away, he’s going to murder Kim Taehyung and toss his body into the Han River.

“Tae!” Jeongguk hisses, lips pursed and nostrils flaring out of annoyance.

“Oh shit, she’s coming over here,” Taehyung whispers, smiling excitedly and waving at the approaching person.

Stupid Taehyung and his stupid social butterfly personality.

Jeongguk covers his face with his hand, feeling his ears burning up because you’re going to see that it’s him and know that he talked about you to his friend because how else would Taehyung know your name.

“Hi…do I know you? Oh—Jeongguk?” You sounded wary at first, most likely because you didn’t know who Taehyung was and why he knew your name, but your voice changed to realization when you recognize him sitting at the table as well.

Jeongguk lifts his hands from his face to look at you, “Hey Y/N.”

“Hey…” You greet back, flashing him a small smile. “I was wondering how you,” You refer to Taehyung, “knew my name.”

“Ah yes, Jeongguk told us you live at the house he’s been working at,” Taehyung clarifies, and you look like you’re holding back a smile. Jeongguk attempts to avoid your curious glance, staring down at the table. “I’m Kim Taehyung, Jeongguk’s best friend.”

Ex-best friend now, Jeongguk thinks.

You shake the hand Taehyung is holding out, “I’m Y/N but it looks like you already know that.” You chuckle.

Death, where are you? When are you coming?

“I’m Jimin,” The boy sitting next to Taehyung introduces himself, flashing his signature eye smile where his eyes turn into crescent which automatically causes you to smile back in return.

The Park Jimin effect. You already seem charmed by it.

“Nice to meet you, Jimin,” you nod your head towards him.

“And allow me to introduce myself, I am Seokjin, but you can call me Jin,” The older man speaks, holding out his hand for you to shake as well. “I am the man who raised,” Pointing his thumb towards Jeongguk behind him, “This kid right here.”

Jeongguk scoffs, “You didn’t raise me.”

“As you can see, when they grow older, they become ungrateful pieces of shits,” Jin speaks through a smile, making you cover your mouth and laugh.

“I see,” Your eyes meet Jeongguk’s once again before they look away. .

“So, what brings you down here, Y/N?” Taehyung asks, chin resting on his hand to show you that he has your full attention.

“Oh nothing,” You shake your head and let out a tired sigh, “Just been shopping with my mother for hours. I got thirsty and decided to get a drink.”

Jeongguk can see how nervous you are with the way your hand is tightly clenching the chain of your purse. The tip of your ears are a little red and you don’t hold eye contact with any of them for too long.

You must not talk to people often.

“Nice, nice,” Taehyung nods and then glances down at something in your hand, making you curious and check what he’s looking at.

Jeongguk wants to smack his palm against his face. There’s no way he’s about to ask if—

“Is that real Chanel?”

Of course, he would ask.

There’s no way Taehyung wouldn’t ask when he’s a fan of fashion and constantly splurges on designer wear when he can.

“Oh, um I think it is,” You hold up the black purse, “I’ve had it for some time I guess it looks a little worn out.”

“No way, I just…it’s so shiny,” Taehyung marvels, making you chuckle. “Do you mind if I look at it?”

Yep, it’s done. They’re done. Jeongguk can’t do this anymore.

Jimin smacks Taehyung’s shoulder, causing the other boy to flinch while Jeongguk groans, face in his hands again. Jin just laughs out loud, smacking the table.

“Yah! You don’t just ask someone that,” Jin muses and Taehyung just pouts, looking like a kicked puppy.

“It’s okay,” You laugh, “I don’t mind.” You hand the purse over as if you’ve known Taehyung all his life and there’s no big deal with just simply handing him a two-thousand-dollar purse.

You just met the guy, Jeongguk thinks.

“Iced vanilla latte for Y/N!” One of the café workers call, forcing you to look away.

“Oh, I’ll be right back,” You inform, pulling away from the table to get your drink.

As soon as you leave to get the drink, Jeongguk crumbles his receipt and tosses it at Taehyung’s face, hitting his forehead. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Taehyung ignores Jeongguk, “This is such a nice purse, guys feel it.” He holds out the purse in the center of the table and Jimin and Jin poke it curiously.

“Feels luxurious,” Jin comments and Jimin nods in agreement.

“You guys are killing me,” Jeongguk groans, watching you walk back to the table after saying thank you to the worker.

“Y/N, this is such a nice purse,” Taehyung tells you, handing you your purse bag so you can shrug the chain onto your shoulder again.

“Oh, thank you,” You wrap your lips around the iced latte to take a sip. “This is a good latte.”

“It probably would’ve been even better if I made it,” Jin jokes, though Jeongguk knows he’s being serious. You giggle, straw between your lips.

You have such a cute laugh, he thinks. Jeongguk wouldn’t mind hearing it more. In fact, he’s a little jealous that his friends are making you laugh when he’s barely talked to you. Before anyone can say anything else, the sound of a cell phone ringing causes you guys to halt.

“Oop, sorry about that,” You mutter, setting your drink down onto the table so you can open your purse and dig through it for your phone. He notices how you roll your eyes, clicking the volume button to turn off the ringing. “It’s my mother. She’s probably wondering where I am right now.”

Jeongguk deflates, a little bummed that you must leave. But at the same time, he feels relief because he doesn’t think he can handle any more embarrassing comments from his friends.

“Awh that’s okay. It was nice meeting you!” Taehyung beams.

Your lips pull into a bright smile, “You as well. It was lovely to meet all of you.”

Your eyes meet with Jeongguk’s a little longer than the rest of everyone else when you say goodbye to them, causing his lips to pull into a small smirk. There’s a certain gleam in your eye and he notices that you’re trying not to smile too widely.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jeongguk,” You mutter shyly, and he nods, watching you wave at the other boys one last time before leaving the coffee shop.

“He’s staring,” Jimin laughs, seeing how Jeongguk’s eyes watch you disappear down the sidewalk.

He feels something wet in his ear, causing him to flinch. He looks at Jin in disgust when he realizes the man put his finger in his mouth before poking it into his ear. The older man is just laughing that hideous laugh of his.

“Dude what the fuck,” Jeongguk whacks his shoulder. “Are you sure you’re older than us? or are you 10?”

“Yah! We were calling your name, but you were too busy watching her leave,” Jin snickers.

“I was just…” Think of an excuse, Jeongguk. “I was trying to make sure she left safely.” His eyes might’ve stared a little too long at your bare legs, but he won’t admit that.

“No but for real dude, you weren’t kidding. She’s cute,” Taehyung says and the other two boys nod.

“You calling her over here, did not fucking help,” Jeongguk glowers and Taehyung just waves it off.

“Please,” Taehyung finishes the rest of his drink, “You’re gonna thank me later because at least she knows you talk about her.”

Jeongguk just stares at him, lips parted, and eyebrows furrowed. “She’s gonna think I’m weird.”

“You’ve always been weird. Somehow chicks still dig that,” Jin adds, standing up from the table to go back to the kitchen.

“She was definitely looking at you a lot, Guk-ah.” Jimin remarks and Jeongguk just shrugs in response.

“Taehyung, you’re dead to me,” Jeongguk scoots out of the booth, ready to go home.

“Thank you so much, Taehyung.” Taehyung changes the tone of his voice to try and imitate Jeongguk’s. “Thank you for giving Y/N the push to talk to me.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” Jeongguk grumbles, tossing his cup in the trash. “I’ll see you losers later.”

The following day at the Kim estate, Jeongguk is wiping the sweat off his forehead after he finishes throwing some mulch on top of the soil. He heaves out a deep breath, squinting to avoid the sunlight that’s directly beaming down on him. He pulls off the thick gloves he’s wearing and tosses them onto the ground. His palms are sweaty, causing him to grimace and wipe it against his shirt.

Pulling his phone out from the pocket of his jumpsuit to look at the time, it was three thirty-four in the afternoon which means it was almost time for him to pack up and go. He begins putting the tools into a bucket, ready to take it back to the shed.

Luckily, Dohyun isn’t here today to bother him like he usually does by the end of the work day. He called in about something important he had to do. Jeongukk doesn’t know and he certainly doesn’t care.

Earlier when he was in the backyard with one of the other workers, he noticed that you weren’t there yet. Quite frankly, he doesn’t know if he wants to see you after what happened yesterday. He’s still a little worried that you might think he’s a creep now but judging from the smile you gave him before leaving, you might be okay.

When he’s walking towards the back with the bucket full of tools in one hand, he looks up and sees you lying on the sun lounger once again in your usual position with a book in your hand and wine glass in the other. He bites down on his lower lip, trying not to smile or look excited. However, the corners of his mouth can’t help but pull up at the sight of cute you look, invested into the book you’re reading. You eyebrows are furrowed and there’s a pout on your glossy lips.

He disappears into the shed, setting the bucket onto the shelf. Resting his hand on top of one of the wooden tables, he taps his finger against it in contemplation. Maybe he should walk up to you and apologize about his embarrassing friends yesterday. He’s not really the type to get embarrassed though. Jeongukk doesn’t know why but your opinion of him matters for some reason.

He also unfriended Taehyung on their PlayStation connect, refusing to play Call of Duty with him just to be petty. The other boy had called him through Jimin’s phone to whine and eventually, Jeongguk gave in.

He turns around, walking right out of the shed only to harshly bump into your body. You almost lose balance and fall back but he quickly catches you by wrapping one of his arms around your back like the males do in those Korean dramas Jimin watches. You squeal, hands pressing to his chest.

“Hi,” Your cheeks are flushed pink. Jeongguk just thinks it's cute that you’re flustered.

He’s trying so hard not to dip his gaze below your neck, knowing you were in another swimsuit where your cleavage is spilling out yet again. It looks even more visible from his angle above you due to his tall stature. Jeongguk gulps, a large hand pressed over almost the entirety of your bare back and he can feel you slightly shiver.

He is a weak man.

Your eyes are full of surprise, lips in a pout yet they look so damn kissable. He has the strong urge to lean down and press his lips against yours, curious about how they would taste. How it feels to put his tongue in your mouth and ravish you. Your neck looks kissable too, smooth, and bare and perfect for him to bite into.

Calm the fuck down, Jeongguk.

“Hey,” Jeongguk muses, lips quirking into a smirk. “Looking for me?”

“Uh…” You let out a breathy laugh, looking away, “Actually I was.”

This takes him by surprise, brow raising in question. You purse your lips, eyes trailing from his face to his chest which your hands are still pressed against. It appears you’re trying to control yourself as well. Avoiding looking at his chest, Jeongguk tries to hold back a laugh. Clearing your throat, you pat his right pec, signaling him that you were okay, and he quickly lets go.

“Sorry,” He mumbles, and you just shake your head.

“No no, you’re fine. It was my fault for bumping into you like that,” You reassure, fingers twiddling together.

“How are you doing?” You ask him and he just shrugs, leaning his shoulder against the doorway of the shed.

Keep it cool, Jeongguk. Pretend like yesterday didn’t happen. Don’t even bring it up.

“I’m alright. About to head out actually,” He informs you.

“Aw really?” you ask and Jeongguk could tell you’re a little disappointed from the way your shoulders drop.

“Yeah, it’s been a long day,” he tells you, making you nod understandably. “Is there something you needed?”

Your eyes widen in surprise for a second before they turn back normal, “Um I just needed help with something but it’s okay, you can leave. I don’t wanna hold you up. I’ll just ask someone else.”

Jeongguk shakes his head, “Nah don’t worry about it. What’s up?” He prods.

You look hesitant to speak, probably worried you’re being a bother even though you’re not. At least you’re speaking to him. He thought you would want nothing to do with him.

“The umbrella by the sunbed isn’t opening. I think the lever to pull it up is stuck,” You explain, hand referring to the closed umbrella by the chair.

Jeongguk looks at it before glancing back at you, “I can help you.”

Your eyes light up in happiness but you still ask, “Are you sure?”

He responds with a nod, giving you a reassuring look, “Yeah, it won’t take long I think.” He walks with you following in toe behind him. He feels your eyes on his back and he smirks a little.

He knows he has a nice ass. He’s been told by many. He takes great pride in it. However, it boosts his ego even more when he knows that you’re looking.

Wrapping his hand around the lever, he grunts when it takes a bit of a push to pull it up, but it eventually does, making you clap.

“Yay, thank you!” You grin, “The sun has been bugging me.”

“Yeah, no problem,” He rests his hands on his hips, glancing down at the book on the table. The edge of his lips quirk up.

“What?” You follow his line of vision and notice him staring at the book, “Have you read that book before?”

“Yeah, and the ending sucked,” Jeongguk tells you, picking up the book.

You groan, “No way, really?” And he nods in response. “I didn’t know you like romance books.” You say, curiosity in your tone.

Jeongguk shrugs, “I don’t,” That’s a lie, he loves them. “But my little sister loves them,” No she doesn’t, she’s a fan of the horror genre but you didn’t need to know that.

“Ah I see,” You look down at the floor, “I didn’t know you have a sister.”

“Yeah, she’s thirteen.” Jeongguk doesn’t know why he tells you that when you didn’t even ask.

You nod at the information, the air becoming silent for a moment. Neither of you speak, unsure of what to say. You seem to find the pool interesting, eyes set on the water, but your cheeks are flushed and you’re biting into your lower lip. Jeongguk takes that minute to allow his eyes to travel over your beautiful figure clad in a black one-piece that hugs your curves. It has a sweetheart neckline which again, shows a bit of your cleavage. There are slits running down on each side, revealing your skin even more.

He just wanted to pick you up and take you somewhere where he can devour you. Maybe even on the sunbed but that wouldn’t look good if someone walked in.

Jeongguk really needs to control his damn thoughts. You might not even be interested.

Mentally slapping himself out of his horny thoughts, he clears his throat, “So I notice you read a lot of books.”

Your eyes move back to his face and there’s a glint in your eyes, brow raised in question. “You must be looking over here a lot to notice then.”

Fuck, Jeongguk really dug his grave for that one. Why would he say that?

You have a knowing smile on your lips, but Jeongguk refuses to be nervous about it. Instead, he holds up his hands in defense and says, “It was just an observation,” You giggle and that makes his stomach flutter because holy shit, it was such an adorable sound, “I can’t help but look at what’s in my peripheral vision every time I come here.” He points to the shed.

You hum, amusement apparent on your face and you don’t push it any further. Instead, you respond, “Yeah, I read a lot,” A sigh escapes your lips, “I have nothing better to do if I’m being honest.”

Before he can even think he asks, “Don’t you have friends?” He wants to smack himself at how rude he must sound but you don’t seem to look offended.

Rather, you have a small smile on your lips, but it looks a little sad, and you shrug mindlessly, “Not really friends friends. Most people become friends with me because they know who my parents are or they’re too stuck up for my liking. My mother tries to get me to go out with some of the girls from people that she knows but…” You shake your head, a frown on your face as if thinking back to a memory, “…they’re really not my cup of tea.”

Jeongguk catches the small glimpse of sadness on your face and for some reason, it causes a small ache in his chest. He doesn’t know you at all, but he can tell you are genuinely being truthful about it. You seemed afraid to befriend someone without the intention of them using you. You’re not the type of person to let someone use you, he can see that. But you also seem to be a little worried about how people view you based on how he saw you interacting with his friends yesterday.

“So, you just sit by the pool and read all day?” He asks and you nod.

“Pretty much,” You confirm before adding, “Or watch Netflix in the theater room.”

Jesus, they have a theater room in this house? It shouldn’t surprise him, considering how large the mansion is but it still takes him by surprise. He can only imagine how amazing his video game would look on the large screen.

“Sounds…boring,” He states bluntly and you just laugh, nodding your head.

“It can be boring,” You agree.

Jeongguk ponders for a moment, looking away from you. Your life sounds pretty lame if he’s being honest. You’re a nice girl, he thinks. You don’t have much going on and you just got back from college. He can’t imagine how your days are going to look. If you’re just going to sit by the pool and read the rest all of the time…then maybe he can help.

He doesn’t know if he’s going to regret this. Or if he’s going to get in trouble for being involved with you, let alone talking with you. Jeongguk likes to think of himself as a pretty fun guy. Maybe he can show you just how to have fun.

He can’t believe he’s about to offer you this. Here goes nothing.

The tall boy clears his throat, opening his mouth to say, “You know,” You look at him, listening, “I was actually just about to head to this bar after work.” He really wasn’t but he can use a drink. “Do you wanna come?”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the question, “Me?”

Jeongguk snorts, “You’re the only one here aren’t you?”

You roll your eyes, cheeks tinting a little but you compose yourself, “Right. That would be–”

Before you can finish answering, a shrill voice calls for your name, causing you both to turn your heads to the door. Standing at the door dressed in a pristine white suit is a woman, sunglasses perched on her nose and hair tied in a tight bun. Her lips are set in a straight line and she’s staring at Jeongguk and you.

She looks kind of scary if you ask Jeongguk.

Is this who Jeongguk thinks it is?

“Y/N, what are you doing?” The woman asks accusingly.

“Mother,” Mother? “I just had to ask Jeongguk for help,” You tell her, “The umbrella wouldn’t open.” Your hand refers to the umbrella by the sunbed.

The woman hums but she still looks unimpressed. Jeongguk can already tell she wasn’t a fan of him. He can’t imagine how the scene looks to her; you standing a tad bit close to him, a house worker who she must think is slacking on the job. Not only that but the tattoos all over his arm must make her think he’s some sort of punk.

Not that it’s new to Jeongguk. He’s used to the last bit.

“Hm, well come inside,” Her voice is a little stern and he catches you rolling your eyes at ground, “And you,” She looks over Jeongguk, “Get back to work.”

You would think that Jeongguk is intimidated by Mrs. Kim but he’s really not. Instead, he gives her a smug smile, “I’m actually off work now, ma’am.”

“Oh,” Seoyeon has a fake smile on her face, “Well then you can lead yourself out of the gate over there.”

“Of course,” Jeongguk bows, pretending to be oblivious to her small frown. He looks over at you to see you staring at your mom with a look that says ‘you’re being rude.’

“I’ll be there in a second,” You inform her.

“No, now,” Your mother demands and he holds back a laugh when he sees you look up at the sky, shutting your eyes and taking a deep breath to control yourself.

He wonders if you two get along.

You look over at Jeongguk, taking a few steps closer and whisper, “I’ll meet you outside of the front gate. Give me twenty minutes please.” Jeongguk’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise but his lips quirk up into a smirk. You bow to him and say, “Thank you for helping me with the umbrella, Jeongguk-ssi.” Your voice is a little loud so your mother can hear.

Jeongguk bites down on his lower lip to keep himself from laughing before he gives you a small bow as well, “Of course, Ms. Kim,” He emphasizes your name and you narrow your eyes at him before quickly walking away.

He tries not to turn his head to watch you walk away, knowing that Mrs. Kim is staring. Instead he walks towards the gate to leave so he doesn’t have to feel her eyes on him anymore. Jeongguk isn’t bothered if the woman doesn’t like him, it’s not like he’s going to work here for very long.

Stepping out of the gate, he walks down to his beat up truck that’s parked down the street. There’s excitement swirling in his stomach at the thought of going out with you. He doesn’t know what to expect out of this but he’s about to find out. Maybe he’ll see that this nice personality of yours is just a facade and he’ll see your true colors.

Who knows?

If so, he would feel disappointed for some reason.

“Y/N, what was that?” Your mother asks you as soon as you walk in.

You feign innocence, “What was what?”

“Why were you speaking to him?” She presses, sliding her sunglasses into her hair.

You let out an exasperated sigh, “I told you why. He was literally just helping me.” You don’t understand why she’s being like this. She never cares about who you talk to. Somehow your interaction with Jeongguk is bothersome for her.

She stares at you for a moment, studying your face as if to figure out if you’re telling the truth. Few seconds later, she lets out a sigh, shaking her head. “That boy looks like bad news. I was just concerned that he was making you uncomfortable.”

“He wasn’t,” You quickly defend. Not once has Jeongguk done anything to make you feel uncomfortable. This is your first time interacting one on one. Sure you feel his eyes on you from time to time when you’re by the pool but you like that. You’ve purposely been sitting there, hoping to catch his attention. You would pick the cutest swimsuits just for that reason.

You would pout, feeling defeated every time he would leave without saying anything to you. Maybe he’s just not interested in you like that but your interaction with his friends says otherwise. You were determined to find out.

For him to invite you out to the bar had you feeling giddy and full of excitement. He doesn’t seem like he has any ill intentions. He honestly might just feel sorry for you because of how lame your life is. You’re not sure. But you want to explore more. You want to get to know him more because he’s lit this spark of curiosity in you that just wouldn’t go away.

“Okay,” Your mother gives you a tight lipped smile but she doesn’t look convinced. She changes the subject, “I was going to head out to the Kangs house for lunch. Their daughter just came back from Europe and I thought you would want to go.”

The Kang’s daughter? As in Kang Sohee? You would never willingly hang out with her. Not after this one time you went to their house when you were just a teenager and found her snorting cocaine off her bathroom counter. Immediately panicking, she begged you not to tell her parents. That was your first and last time ever going to Kang’s house.

So no, you don’t want to go.

“Actually, I’m going out with some friends,” You lie. You wouldn’t consider Jeongguk a friend, not even an acquaintance. You barely know him but who knows, maybe that could change after today.

Your mother casts you a look of surprise. Do you really look that much of a loner to everyone?

“Oh,” she responds, “Do I know them?” She wonders.

You shake your head no, you would never tell her who it is. Considering the way she acted earlier when she caught you speaking with Jeongguk, you know she would be unhappy if she found out you’re going to a bar with him.

“No, you don’t. I met them in America. They’re visiting here,” You explain and she nods, seeming to believe your words.

“Okay then,” Your mother looks a little speechless, “Have fun I guess.”

Shoulders relaxing, a shiver of excitement runs through your body when you turn around and go upstairs to your room to change. Before you can go up the second step, your mother calls for you, causing you to pause in your tracks and look at her questioningly.

“Y/N sweetheart, just be careful around that boy,” Your stomach drops when you realize she’s referring to Jeongguk and you think it’s because she might’ve figured you out. “He doesn’t look like a good influence. Let him do his job and leave.” You relax, realizing she just meant from what happened earlier.

You don’t say anything other than, “Okay.” Before going upstairs. You’re a grown adult. You can make decisions for yourself. You’d be damned if you let her words stop you from getting ready to go.

You rush into your walk-in closet to find some clothes. After a few minutes of searching through the racks, you go with a tight black off the shoulder top and pair it with high waisted loose jeans. To top it off, you wear a pair of chunky black heeled ankle boots on your feet. You don’t have time for doing a full face of makeup so you just put on some mascara and eyeliner. Smacking your strawberry flavored lip gloss against your lips, you run your hand through your hair that cascades down your back before grabbing the same Chanel purse you had on yesterday.

Rushing down the steps, you head out the front door, looking around to make sure you’re not leaving at the same time as your mother. You bow to the doorman at the gate, greeting him before he opens it and lets you out. Eyes wandering around your surroundings, your head snaps towards the sound of a car honking and you look to see a tattooed hand waving out of the window.

Your shoulders relax and you look behind you one last time before walking towards a black pick up truck. You open the door, greeting Jeongguk with a small smile and close it shut.

“Hi,” You greet shyly, tugging on the seatbelt.

Jeongguk looks amused, pierced lip curled up into a smirk, “Hey.” He then adds, “Sorry I didn’t get out to open the door for you. Chivalry is really dead, you know.”

You laugh at his honesty before saying, “It’s fine, I’m sick of people opening the door for me anyways.” You turn to look at him and swallow at how good he looks.

He must’ve changed in his car while waiting for you because now he’s wearing a black baggy shirt with a pair of ripped jeans. There’s a silver chain around his neck and his hair looks wavy as it curtains on each side of his face. One tattooed hand is resting on top of the steering wheel while the other is holding the gear stick.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” He comments and you roll your eyes, cheeks heating up.

Way to be fucking obvious.

“Whatever,” You respond, sitting back in the seat. You look around, eyes observing the car

“Yeah, it’s a pretty shitty car I know,” Jeongguk says as he pulls the car into drive.

You quickly look at him and shake your head, “No, it’s cute.” You shrug and he snorts, “I love the little key chain.” You reach up to play with the little anime keychain hanging from the rearview mirror.

“Cute huh?” Jeongguk muses and you just nod.

“Smells nice in here,” You remark.

“Oh yeah, I’m sensitive to smell. I’ve got like four car fresheners,” He tells you and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“Four car fresheners?” You ask, judgment clear in your tone and Jeongguk opens his mouth to speak again.

“You try sitting in your own sweat after a long day of work. It stinks.” He defends before adding the next in a much quieter tone, “And I like the smell of flowers.” He mumbles, making you giggle.

“I don’t judge,” You respond and it's quiet for a few moments.

“Your mom certainly does,” He utters, clicking his tongue before looking at you, “Too soon?”

You shake your head, “No, it’s fine. She can be quite judgemental about people who aren’t…” You hesitate to finish the sentence but Jeongguk does it for you.

“Rich,” He states and you nod guilty. “It’s fine. I get it. I wasn’t really surprised if I’m being honest.”

“Really?” You stare at his side profile, taking in the slope of his nose and his sharp jawline. The silver barbell that runs through his dark eyebrows. God, he’s so fine.

Jeongguk just shrugs, glancing at you before he makes a turn, “I mean yeah. I guess it’s kind of something I expected of rich people.”

Your lips pull down into a small frown at his words, sullen from the thought that he may see you as judgmental. You don’t consider yourself judgmental. Or least, you try not to judge. And you definitely hate the whole rich people only talking to other rich people thing. That’s probably one of the many reasons why you aren’t friends with other people that your family knows. They always think they’re above everyone else.

You gather the courage to ask, “Is that what you think I am?” You wonder before adding, “And be honest.”

The car stops at a red light and he turns over to look at you, an unreadable glint in his eyes and his lips tug into a small grin, “You might not be so bad.” You relax at his words, the tension leaving your body. For some reason you just didn’t want him to view you as those arrogant rich people. He then adds, “Or you can just be fooling me right now and you could be crazier than you look?”

Your jaw drops in offense and you smack his shoulder, “What do you mean crazier than I look?”

Jeongguk cackles, throwing his head back and you gulp at the sight of the veins in his neck. “I’m kidding.” He says.

You scoff, crossing your arms to pretend to look annoyed. “I’m sure you were.”

“I aaaaam,” He drags, tugging at your elbow and you try not to smile.

In contrast from earlier when the silence was awkward by the pool, it seems to be more comfortable now that you’re talking and joking around. You can’t stop thinking about the smile Jeongguk had when he laughed. His bunny teeth displayed and his eyes crinkling. It had to be your favorite look on him and it makes you happy that you were the cause of it.

“So where is this bar?” You question, staring out the window as you drive through the city.

“It’s a bar in Itaewon,” He answers, making another turn at a light. “My friends and I go there all the time.” He tells you before adding, “You know, when we’re not broke and finally get our paychecks.”

You chuckle at the last bit because of how casually he says it and then you ask, “The friends I saw yesterday?”

“Mhm,” He confirms.

When your mind wanders to the events that took place yesterday, you remember how all of his friends were good looking. You recall the conversations you had but the main thing that brings a small smile to your face is when you realize how they knew your name.

“So,” You start and hear Jeongguk mumble under his breath ‘Oh god’ because you think he knows where this is going, “You talk about me to your friends huh?”

Jeongguk groans, looking as if he was dreading this conversation, “Look, I saw you walk into the coffee shop, recognized it was you and told them who you are.” He says and you narrow your eyes at him suspiciously. He notices and clicks his tongue, “I’m serious, that’s what happened.”

“Right,” You say slowly, “Whatever you say.” Voice in a sing-a-song tone. You knew there had to be more to it but he wasn’t going to tell you it seems.

“Please, I’m sure you gushed about me being hot to your friends,” He says

“I told you I don’t have any friends– wait! Ah hah!” You raise your finger at him accusingly. “So you told them I was hot.” You feel a sense of pride at that, internally gushing over the fact that he finds you attractive.

“What–No I,” He tries to come up with something but at this point, there’s really no saving. He lets out a defeated sigh, “Yeah yeah, I might’ve mentioned that. So what?” He tries to be nonchalant about it.

Your lips pressed together to suppress a smile and you turn your head the other way so you’re looking out the window again, “Nothing.” Gathering up the courage you then mutter quietly, “I found you attractive too.” Your cheeks feel warm and you refuse to look at him.

Beside you, Jeongguk has a small smile on his face as he looks at the road ahead after hearing you utter the last part shyly.

The sound of glasses clinking and chatter fill your ears as you walk into the bar with Jeongguk. The interior design was dark and sleek, booths against one side of the wall and a row of tables pressed up against the other. The lights are a little dim but it fits with the vibes. The smell of bar food fills your nostrils, causing your mouth to salivate. There’s not many people right now but you can imagine how busy it’ll get later. There’s a bunch of men playing pool, laughing while sipping on their drinks.

You’re oblivious to the lingering eyes of other males on you until Jeongguk points it out, making your eyes widen in surprise. Curiously, you look around only to meet the eyes of a man who’s starring you up and down before he gives you a wink. Your face scrunches up in distaste and you roll your eyes before looking away. You feel the warmth radiating off Jeongguk's body which is pressed close to your side, his hand hovering over your lower back but not fully touching it. Almost as if he’s hesitant to touch you.

“You really don’t realize the effect you have huh?” He chuckles, pulling out the stool for you to sit on.

“I thought you said chivalry is dead,” You joke, sitting down on the stool before patting the one next to you.

“Listen, I’m not that much of an asshole,” He remarks, sitting beside you and you just giggle in response.

“Hey Jeongguk, what’s up man?” A tall man behind the bar greets, bumping his fist with the boy sitting next to you. He’s got tattoos as well though, not as much as Jeongguk but a few scattered on his arm and peaking out of his chest beneath his t-shirt. He’s got a handsome face as well.

Jesus, are all of his friends good looking?

“Yugyeom, hey,” Jeongguk greets.

“You guys on a date?” Yugyeom asks, wiggling his eyebrows before looking at you. “Hi, I’m Yugyeom, nice to meet you.”

You give a smile before introducing yourself as well, “Y/N.” Yugyeom bumps his fist with Jeongguk again, with a look you don’t seem to understand and you don’t think Jeongguk will explain to you either based on the sheepish expression on his face.

“So what can I get you guys to drink?” The bartender asks, hands pressed against the counter.

Jeongguk looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to respond. You shrug, “What kind of wine do you have?”

“Wine?” Jeongguk snorts, making you pout out of embarrassment.

“Leave me alone,” You whine, “I’m not much of a drinker.”

Jeongguk chuckles, shaking his head before turning to look at Yugyeom, “She’ll have a cranberry vodka and I’ll have the usual.”

Yugyeom nods, “You got it.” He turns around to begin making the drinks.

“I can’t believe you wanted wine,” Judgement in his tone but you can tell he was joking.

“That’s the only alcohol I really drink,” You defend, eating some of the complimentary nuts in front of you.

Jeongguk puffs out a laugh, “The wine you drink probably costs more than what my car is worth.” He says in a matter-of-fact tone.

Rolling your eyes at his words, you just munch on the cashews. You notice how Jeongguk doesn’t grab those specifically, probably noticing that you like those the most from the way you kept eating them. You can’t help but smile at that, chest fluttering.

“Alright,” Yugyeom comes back, “Rum coke for you,” He hands the glass to Jeongguk, “And cranberry vodka for the pretty lady.” He gives you a charming grin when he hands it to you.

“Thank you,” You tell him and he just bows at you before walking away to another customer on the other side. You bring the glass up to your lips, feeling Jeongguk’s eyes on you when you take a sip. You smack your lips together, trying to decipher the taste. He’s looking at you curiously, small smile on his lips.

“What?” You ask him, wondering why he’s staring.

“How is it?” He asks.

You shrug, taking another sip and then say, “It just tastes like cranberry juice.”

“Here,” He slides his glass over to you, “Wanna try some of mine?” You nod in response, picking up the glass to take a small sip.

The taste is refreshing of the ice cold coke but you can feel that hint of bitterness from the rum hitting the back of your throat.

“Mm,” You hum. “It’s good. Refreshing, I like it.” You tell him truthfully. “Try some of mine,” You push your drink towards him.

“I’ve had this before,” He says but picks up the glass to take a sip anyways. You watch him when he does, eyes falling to his throat where his Adam's apple moves when he swallows the beverage. “I mean it’s good I guess.” He tells you before commenting, “It tastes like juice.” He reiterates with a shrug and you laugh in response.

“I told you!” You exclaim, taking another sip of his coke before handing it back to him but before you can, he shakes his head.

“Yeah honestly my hyung knows more about alcohol than me.” He tells you with a grimace before adding, “You can have that one,” you look at him questioningly but he just waves it off. “You like it, drink it.”

The butterflies in your stomach are intense, your heart swooning at his action. He’s just making you feel more and more interested in him. You did not expect him to be so thoughtful. Maybe it isn’t a big deal to him but for you, it’s such a kind gesture.

“Thank you,” You say, drinking again and he just nods in response.

“So how did you end up working as a gardener?” You wonder.

Jeongguk seems to choke on his drink a little, causing you to jump in surprise and look at him in concern. He clears his throat, setting the glass down onto the coaster.

“I uh…you don’t know?” He asks and you glance at him in question, shaking your head before bringing the glass up to your lips again. “Well… I hit your dad’s car.” He tells you and this time, you’re almost choking on your drink. Jeongguk holds out a napkin so you can wipe your chin.

“You what?” Your eyes are wide, mouth open and you look at him as if he’s joking.

He’s not.

He clicks his tongue, “Yeah… but listen, it wasn’t that bad. I just kind of tapped the back of his car but….yeah I couldn’t get away with it.” He shakes his head as if disappointed at that and it makes you laugh.

“Well at least you guys were okay,” You say pointedly and he nods in agreement.

“Your dad’s a real cheap ass you know that,” He says bluntly and you snort at that. “No but really, he is. Because he could’ve just let me go, you know. But no, he had to get my contact information. He knew I was broke by the looks of it so instead of paying him back directly, he told me I can work off my debt.” He explains, not caring one bit that it’s your father he’s talking about. You’re not offended in the slightest, looking at him in amusement which prods him to say, “What?”

You shake your head, pressing your lips so you don’t laugh, “Nothing. You’re just very honest.” You tell him.

His eyebrows raise in surprise, hand playing with the straw of his drink and he asks, “Is that…bad?”

“No,” You smile. “Not at all. It’s refreshing honestly.” It’s true. Half the time people talk to you, you can tell it was a facade sometimes which would be quite frustrating for you. They’d be afraid to say anything that would offend you, not wanting to be on your bad side.

But Jeongguk, he didn’t care. He was honest. You liked that a lot.

“That’s good,” He tugs at the piercing in his lip thoughtfully, “My hyung tells me I can be a real dickhead sometimes.”

“I wouldn’t disagree with that,” You mutter jokingly, causing him to look at you with narrowed eyes, tongue poking into his cheek.

“Gee, thanks.” His voice is monotone when he says it and you snicker.

“Now I have a question for you,” He says and you look at him, wondering what it could be.

“Sure, what is it?” You ask.

He purses his lips together in wonderment before asking, “How did Dohyun know you the first day we met? He talked to you as if you guys have been friends for a while.” His tone says that he was genuinely curious.

You suck in the air through clenched teeth and shake your head, “I wouldn’t say we’re really friends…maybe acquaintances? I’m not sure. I might sound like a bitch for saying that.” Jeongguk shakes his head as if saying no, encouraging you to continue, “His grandpa used to be the gardener for our house. He’d always come with him when he was a little boy,” You explain to him, thinking back to the times when you were just twelve years old.

Sometimes he’d come up to you when you were playing on the swing set and he’d hand you a single flower which you would take from him out of politeness. He looked so excited whenever you took it out of his hands and said thank you, almost as if it was the greatest achievement he ever made.

Other than flowers, he’d bring you single pieces of candy and you didn’t have the heart to tell him that you hated orange flavored candies. You would secretly give it to your younger brother everytime.

“And he’s been working there ever since?” Jeongguk asks and you nod in response.

“Yeah…pretty much. He was pretty upset when I had to leave for America,” You don’t know why you tell him that.

“Yeah?” He sounds amused, “The boy is quite literally whipped for you.” He tells you and you just shrug in response.

“Oh I already know,” You tell him and this time he looks at you with wide eyes, sipping on his drink as if this is the most interesting thing he’s heard. “It’s been like that since we were kids. I think he wanted to tell me before I left but I had to go so…he said he would tell me when I would come back.”

“Hm,” He hums, tongue pressing against his teeth as if pondering, “Well you’re back. Has he told you yet?”

You let out a relieved sigh, “No not yet. I’m afraid when he does tho. I don’t know if I have it in me to see the look of heartbreak on his face. He’s always smiling.” You tell him, feeling him look at you.

“He’d definitely be heartbroken, I can tell you that,” Jeongguk says before adding with a snort, “Could’ve sworn he was about to pop a boner when he saw you by the pool the first time I was with him.”

You look at him in disgust and he just cackles loudly, throwing his head back when he does, making you smile again. You just love when he laughs like that.

You purse your lips before asking, “How about you?”

Jeongguk looks confused, looking at you quizzically, “What about me?”

“Did you pop a boner when you saw me?” You joke but there was some underlying seriousness to it.

Jeongguk scoffs, looking down at the table, “As if I’d ever tell you that.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” You grin, about to take a sip of the coke but he grips the hand holding the cup before you can take the sip.

“Didn’t your parents teach you any manners? Gimme back my drink,” He commands, trying to take the glass away from you but you tighten your grip on the glass as he tries to pull it away from you but instead, tugs you along with it. You squeal, shuffling forward and instantly gripping his strong thigh when you feel yourself leaning back as if you were about to fall and he quickly wraps his left arm around your back to prevent it from happening.

Your faces are closer in proximity now, eyes staring at one another. There’s a certain glint in Jeongguk’s eyes when you look at them and you can’t help but fixate on his rose colored lips that have the silver piercing. You wonder what it would feel like against your own lips if you were to just lean forward and kiss them.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, teeth biting into your lower lip when you notice him glance down at your lips as well. Before anything can happen, you feel a finger poke your stomach, causing you to immediately recoil.

You look down to see Jeongguk’s pointed finger that did the action, surprised that you didn’t seem to notice it move away from behind your back. You also failed to notice him take the glass right out of your hands when he poked you, causing you to whine.

“Asshole!” You exclaim, attempting to get it back but he just turns his body away from you to take a sip, his left arm held in front of you as if to block you.

Jeongguk says after taking a sip, “I’m not the one asking people if they pop boners.” You roll your eyes at that, giving up and crossing your arms.

“I’m just kidding, here,” He holds out the glass for you and you lift your hand to take it but he pulls it back again to tease you, “Say please.” His voice is stern.

Instead you respond monotonously, “You’re a dick.”

Jeongguk sucks the air through his teeth and says, “You seem to be quite fond of my dick.” He jokes and you smack his shoulder, snatching the glass back so you can drink the rest of it.

For the rest of the night, you guys talk and laugh about random things while munching on the bar food Yugyeom gives you guys on the house. Jeongguk would make you giggle when he makes commentary on the men who were playing pool, making fun of how badly one of guys were playing and it was the same guy who had winked at you earlier. Once it was reaching 8 o’clock and the bar was in full swing, that’s when the two of you decided to leave.

This time when you were leaving the bar, his arm was wrapped around your back protectively as he guided you out of the place, fending off the lewd looks coming from the other men. Once you were outside and were walking towards his parked truck, you pause in your tracks, making him stop and gaze at you curiously.

“Wait,” Your eyebrows are furrowed, “Are you okay to drive?” You ask, realizing that you both just drank alcohol and that he still has to drive back.

Jeongguk breathes out a laugh, looking at you in amusement, “What do you take me for? A light weight?” You just raise your brow at him in response and he lets out a sigh, “I’m fine. It was just one drink. I wouldn’t be driving you back home if I knew I couldn’t.” His voice sounds truthful when he tells you this and for some reason, your heart stutters at that.

“Okay,” your shoulders relax and you nod, believing him.

Jeongguk releases his lower lip from his teeth and says, “If you’re still uncomfortable, I can call you a cab.” He offers and you just shake your head.

“No it’s okay,” You say before adding, “I trust you.”

He stares at you for a moment, eyes flicking around your face as if to see if you were telling the truth before he nods, “Alright, come on.”

The car ride back to your house was quiet for the most part. You’d say a few things here and there and Jeongguk would respond but there wasn’t more to it. The silence isn’t awkward however. Rather, it’s pleasant, a new wave of comfortableness between the two of you.

You had a really fun time tonight, you think. Probably the most in a while. You don’t think you can remember the last time you’ve laughed as much as you did tonight and it brings a smile to your face when you think about all the funny moments and jokes the two of you shared.

Jeongguk has ignited this fire inside of you that you don’t think you’ve ever felt. He’s funny, handsome, honest and thoughtful. For a guy you only literally just started talking to, you can already feel yourself starting to like him a lot more than you anticipated. At first you just found him to be attractive and thought he’d simply be a nice eye candy when you’d sit by the pool. However, after talking to him tonight, you found yourself wanting to get to know him more. He talked to you like you were any other person, not seeming to give a damn about who you are.

You don’t realize you’re smiling until you hear Jeongguk clear his throat, snapping you out of your thoughts and you notice how the car is now stopped and parked in front of the large gate outside of your house.

“Well, this was fun,” His tone is a little awkward when he says it, fingers tapping against the steering wheel.

You nod in agreement, grinning, “Yeah it was. I had a really good time.”

His lips quirk up into a small smile at that and he says, “That’s good. I’m glad.”

It’s quiet for a moment, the both of you unsure what to say. You break it first, “I guess I should go then.” He nods in response, clicking the unlock button of the doors.

You open the door, hesitating to get out. You’re about to step out but pause for a second, turning to look at him only to find him already looking at you. He looks curious when you stare at him and asks, “What?”

Here goes nothing.

You scoot over in the passenger seat, leaning over the console to peck the corner of his mouth before pulling back and stepping out of the car, “Goodnight. See you tomorrow!” You speak fastly, swiftly shutting the door before rushing towards the gate.Your cheeks are warm and he probably saw how red they are. He just stares at you wide eyed, almost in disbelief at what just happened.

You press your lips together, keeping yourself from smiling before waving at him one last time. You hope it wasn’t weird for him. If you read this entirely wrong the whole time, you don’t know how you would face him tomorrow.

You had no idea that Jeongguk was still sitting outside in his truck, a smile playing on his lips at what just happened.

Jeongguk couldn’t stop thinking about yesterday night. The way you would throw your head back and laugh, hand covering your mouth. He kept making jokes and waggish commentary about how ridiculous other people in the bar look. He noticed that you were definitely a light weight. You weren't drunk but you were a little tipsy.

You became a little more touchy, shoving him or smacking his shoulder at times when he’d tease you. At one point, your hand was on his thigh absentmindedly and he’d begun to get nervous when it fell dangerously close to his crotch. It wasn’t intentional. You were clueless to how close your hand was, too busy rambling to an old man about the tricks of blackjack.

Did he mention that you’re more socializing after drinking alcohol?

Jeongguk found himself having a good time with you, enjoying your bubbly and talkative personality. You were more open and comfortable around him so it was gratifying to see this side of you. You didn’t have some nice act persona that you were putting up.

It’s what happened at the very end of your time together that had him stunned. When you kissed him on the corner of his mouth and gave him the prettiest smile he’s ever seen on you. Your cheeks were flushed a pink and you looked proud of yourself from the glimpse he caught your face before you rushed out of his truck.

It brought an automatic smile to his face, hand touching the part where you kissed him. How soft your lips felt on top of his skin. The scent of strawberry coming from your lip gloss that lingered. It’s not like Jeongguk hasn’t been kissed before. He has. But this felt different. This kiss came from you. He can feel himself having an actual crush on you. Not just physically wanting you but emotionally. He can feel something there. He was willing to explore it with you. Take it further.

Is he thinking too far ahead?

Sue him, this might just be his first real crush in so long. He knows there’s still so much to learn about you but after last night, he thinks he gets the idea. He just wants to see where it goes.

All he knows is that he likes being around you a lot.

A small smile is playing on his lips as he cuts the unnecessary weeds out of one of the bushes and he doesn't realize it until Dohyun comes up to him and points it out.

“Hey hyung! What’s got you all happy?” The boy asks in bafflement, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile since you’ve started working here.”

Jeongguk’s smile immediately drops, mouth pulled into a straight line. He’s not telling this guy why he’s happy. Considering Dohyun has the biggest crush on you, he has no idea how he’d react. Not that he’d trust Dohyun regardless of if he has a crush on you or not. Jeongguk assumes no one around the house is allowed to know about you and him hanging out and maybe he just prefers to keep it that way.

He feels a bit bad for the guy if he’s being honest. Dohyun’s been crushing on you since guys were just kids meanwhile Jeongguk just met you. However, you’ve made it clear that you do not see Dohyun in that way at all.

If you really like Jeongguk, he’d be an idiot to pass that up.

“Nothing man,” Jeongguk responds, turning to look at Dohyun only for his eyes to widen at the sight he sees before him.

Dohyun no longer has the long hair that gets into his face. His hair is now cropped short on the sides and trimmed at the top. Gone are those thick rimmed glasses that’s constantly pushing up the bridge of his nose. But that’s not what takes Jeongguk by surprise the most, it’s the black slacks and white button down that he has on that makes the older wonder what he’s up to. There’s a bouquet of red roses in one hand and a box of what looks like chocolates in the other.

Oh God, is he about to do what he thinks he is?

“Uh hey…” Jeongguk starts, dropping the plant snips onto the floor, “What’s with the whole…” He gestures his hand towards Dohyun’s get up.

The younger man grins, cheeks tinting a little pink, “I’m about to ask Y/N out on a date.”

Well fuck.

taglist: @janedukiesworld @rjsmochii @mwitsmejk @jjeonjjk7 @whoa-jo @tearsdntfall617 @linda-botello

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jhilsara · 2 months

Text

I Can See You

Pt. 1/ Pt. 2/ Pt. 3/ Pt. 4/ Pt. 5/pt. 6/Pt. 7/Pt. 8/Pt. 9/ Pt. 10/

Pt. 11/ Pt.12/Pt.13/Pt. 14/Pt.15/Pt.16/Pt.17/END

Mariana Jimenez-Watson or MJ works in a normal pub living life paycheck to paycheck. Nothing exciting happens to her except the occasional drunk getting thrown out. She's 24 working away and finds a wrench thrown into her very boring life. His name is Hobie and she thinks maybe, a little excitement isn't awful. In fact she might start to crave some change for once.

Small moments of Hobie meeting his world's MJ. AKA I made an MJ variant and I think she's neat.

Chapter 5

Life threatening events were not on her bucket list. In fact, MJ was content to mind her business and talk to pub patrons. She was happy to come in, pours some pints, make a cocktail, chat up the patrons and learn their stories, and then roll on home in the early morning hours. That was her routine every single day, she liked it that way. Her life wasn't supposed to be filled with crazy events and super villains. She was just a normal woman working in a small pub.

So why the hell does stuff just keep happening to her?

She’s been exhausted for the past two weeks, and it's not from any freak run ins with her local vigilante. To her surprise it's because of a single patron who started coming to the pub. Usually MJ is okay with the occasional drunkard. They always have at least one every other night.

MJ’s favorites are posted in small polaroid pictures behind the bar top that Andy has taken. The pub keeps a polaroid camera as a little gimmick for busy weekends. Andy will walk around to the tables and snap pictures of friends and couples. It’s just a cute extra thing they like to do, keeps patrons longer. The owner pays for the film and Andy likes talking to people. It’s a win-win. Especially the wall of shame, which has pictures of the unruly drunk bastards they’ve kicked out. It's her favorite photo section secretly, the faces they make when Andy points the flash at them is really entertaining.

They have a new regular though and he drinks every night until her or Andy cuts him off. That's not uncommon, to have people come in and be cut off after an obscene amount of alcohol. It's not just the fact he's a heavy drinker... there's something unsettling about how he drinks that has starting to stress MJ out.

She can't put her finger on it, but it makes her stomach drop in dread every time she sees him. He drinks more than any patron they’ve seen before, but never gets unruly. He sits quietly, drinking beer after beer. His eyes following her, like a predator looking at their next meal. She hates interacting with him. It's his eyes, they're so... hollow.

The last time she handed him his tab he caressed her hand and she recoiled just as quickly. He gave her a slimy kind of smile that had her gritting her teeth. His eyes burning into her skin, making her itch and want to scream. She hasn’t served him tonight, but she feels him staring at her. She always feels his eyes following her, like a creepy portrait at night.

He genuinely scares her. Has her almost debating if she should just quite. She even tried to swap times with a coworker but he followed. He was there every time she was scheduled without fail. How he knew she was trying to change shifts made her even more unsettled. Making her skin prickle like she was being stabbed by tiny needles.

She mentioned it to her manager but he just dismissed how she felt. Saying she was over reacting; the guy isn’t disruptive and he hasn’t actually done anything to her. All she could think was, ‘yet, he hadn’t done anything yet’.

She didn't bother trying to change shifts after that. She was ready to just leave the pub all together, but the pay was good. Too good to try and job hunt because of one man that creeped her out.

She shakes herself out of her spiraling thoughts and tries to keep working. There was no use sitting there stewing on him, it would just terrify her. She wraps up her shift and goes in the back to clock out. Before she walks out though, she goes back to ask Andy a question about a show they were hosting the next night. She needed the contact information and Andy had taken the call.

When she walks back out, she sees the guy is gone. Her gut is telling her it's wrong, he usually stays all night. Her face pales at the idea of walking out.

“Where did he go?” MJ asks pointing to his empty chair, her tone clipped.

Andy shrugs nonchalantly, “He just closed out his tab. Why?”

MJ grows quiet and crosses her arms. “This is gonna sounds crazy, but something about him really freaks me out.”

Andy shakes her head. “No, not crazy. I don’t like how he looks at you. It’s fucking gross.” Andy frowns looking at her friend. It validates MJ's feelings and she sighs in mild relief. Someone else noticed.

MJ leans on the back counter thinking, “Can I stay until you get off? I- I just have a bad feeling.” She asks looking at Andy with pleading eyes.

Andy nods her head, “Absolutely!" She replies reassuringly. "My boyfriends picking me up tonight and we can walk ya home or you can tag along with us. I’d hate for that guy to try and follow ya home.” She mutters bitterly making a disgusted face.

MJ nods her head. “Thanks, I’m just gonna hang out in the office then. Maybe check the cameras.” She says pointing to the back.

MJ goes into the managers office, he wasn’t working tonight anyway, and she looks through his desktop to check the cameras. Her stomach was churning with uncertainty.

Sure enough, the guy is creeping around the corner. He’s watching the back door. Suddenly a cold chill runs up her back. She jolts up and makes sure the back doors are locked. She quietly goes back into the office and curls in the chair, her body shaking. She takes a deep, nervous breath and just tries to not think about it.

There is no denying it, he definitely was waiting for her.

She shoves her face into her hands and tries to take some calming deep breathes. Her fingers dig into her hair and she holds it tightly. It doesn’t stop the panic rising in her chest. It burns in the back of her throat like bile and she squeezes her eyes shut.

With unsteady hands she shoots Hobie a text, asking if he could come pick her up. She doesn’t know if she can wait until Andy gets off. She looks back over to the cameras and the man isn't there anymore.

It should calm her down, she should be relieved, but it doesn’t. It's the opposite of reassuring... in fact it puts her on edge and she's more nervous than before.

Suddenly the back door handle starts to jiggle, almost as if someone’s trying to open it. She stares at the handle frozen in fear for what feels like forever. Her heart feels like it’s in her throat.

Just as soon as the door handle shook, it ends. Leaving her alone in the silence.

She’s trembling and tries to calm herself down. He can’t get in.

He can’t get in. He can’t get in. He can’t get in. He can’t get in. He can’t get in. He can’t get in. She tells herself over and over again.

She locked it, it’s industrial, as long as she's in the back she's safe. She spends the next ten minutes trying to come down from her mini panic attack. Her body feels numb and she's never felt this frighten for her own life. Which feels trivial in the face of the strange super humans running around Old York.

Her phone buzzes, pulling her out. Hobie had texted her back, saying he was on his way. She was going to be fine.

She finally settles her breathing and feels calm enough to wait for Hobie. Her judgement was correct. She hears screaming and glasses shattering. The noise is so foreign she doesn't realize it's real until Andy comes plowing around the corner and barreling into the office. Andy slams the door shut, and turns off the lights. Her face is filled with fear as she turns around to grab MJ.

“That guy, MJ, he- he came back!" Andy starts to whisper shout. Her voice hitching in anxiety. "He's bonkers! Threw a fit and breaking shit!" she says rushing over her words. "He was screaming for you MJ, Lars is handling it but I bolted." She grabs her hand and tries to drag MJ with her, "We have to go!” She’s whispering at her aggressively.

MJ moves to hold Andy's arms, she looks past her down at the computer's camera and sees Lars handing the man. The two girls take the opportunity to go to the back door and try to escape. They are met with an unbudging door.

“No, no, no, no!” MJ hisses and tries to open the door again, throwing her body weight at the door. She's frantic to get out, just escape.

“What the fuck!” Andy almost shouts. They try again and are meet with nothing. They're trapped.

They hear glass breaking and it makes them freeze for only a moment before fear grips them. They run into the office, closing the door and locking it.

MJ makes her way over to the computer and sees the guy standing over Lars, holding a broken liquor bottle with a tight grip. She clutches at Andy and looks at her with wide eyes.

“I think he just killed Lars!” She hisses.

“What the fuck!” Andy replies and the two girls watch him through the camera. He’s blocking their only exit.

“We have to hide, that’s all we can do, or distract him…” MJ mutters.

“Where the hell are we gonna hide?!” Andy says in irritation.

MJ looks over to the closet in the office and shoves herself and Andy in it. The closet is filled with anything and everything, it’s honestly a mess. This could be to their advantage though. MJ finds an empty barrel, one used as decoration, and tells Andy to get in. Her friend looks at her like she’s mad.

“I’m not getting in that.” Andy hisses in a whisper.

“It’s the best spot you have and we don’t have a lot of time right now Andy!" MJ shots back quickly in irritation. "If he finds a locked door he’s breaking in. I’m gonna lock the closet but it can only give us so much time.” MJ whispers aggressively.

Andy sighs and gets in the barrel. “If he finds me first I’m killing you, not him.” She mutters.

MJ rolls her eyes but closes the barrel’s lid. She looks at the corner that’s filled with an abundance of random things. She moves some stuff around to hide behind. This is as good as it's going to get. The objects she's hiding behind are also hidden by a curtain. She hopes it'll be enough to save her. She’s shaking, clutching her phone to her chest. She turns it on silent, but texts Hobie quickly. She tells him in as little words as possible she’s hiding in the office and for him to call for help.

She knows the cops won’t come, even after their ‘reform’ they still don’t do much. Much less care about a local pub issue. That’s why they had Lars as their bouncer. Now Lars was maybe dead and it’s not like she could just call up the local vigilante.

She’s screwed unless she can somehow take this guy out herself with Andy. She’s trembling, clutching onto herself to not cry, this is not how she wants to go. Not from some creepy drunk patron.

She hears the office door get kicked in and she tries to not gasp. He’s more than likely going to find her and not Andy, which she knew that was the risk. She’s holding onto a crowbar with a death grip. She’s just waiting for him to get in the closet. If he finds her she'll swing, fight, scream and claw her way out.

She wants to shut her eyes like a little kid and pretend this isn’t happening, but she can’t. Her hearts pounding as she hears the loud bangs on the closet door. With every hit it makes her jump. Then she hears it crash to the floor followed by heavy footsteps.

She’s trying to keep it together but tears fall down her face. She’s only human and fear is gripping at her heart.

She hears a loud grunt and a collapsing. She doesn’t dare look, but she hears something dragging against the floor.

“I don’t think ladies like stalkers much.” She hears, a new voice says mockingly.

She sits up quickly as she hears the familiar voice. She moves to stand up and quietly goes to look. She sees a distinctly spider silhouette through the broken down doorway.

His figure disappears but she can still hear him. He’s talking to the drunkard so she uses this opportunity to grab Andy. She rushes over to the barrel that Andy’s in and slides the lid off. She whispers to her, “Spider-Man’s here!”

“What?! How?” Andy says in surprise, they can hear the guy getting slammed into something, making them both jump. The noises they hear consist of loud banging and something being broken.

“Hell, if I know!” MJ hisses and makes her way over to the fallen doorway.

She peers around the corner, still trying to hide herself, and sees that Spider-Man has the guy pinned down. Arms tied behind his back and his face had been slammed into the desk. Specifically, the keyboard. The pieces are scattered and broken on the floor, a small pool of blood is underneath the man's head.

She takes a shaky breath, one entirely too quiet, it’s enough to notify Spider-Man of her presence, his head shooting up to look at her. She sees his body relax, if just a fraction, upon seeing her.

“Mariana,” he whispers her name, so soft she almost misses it. “Always in trouble…” He says much louder, scoffing and shaking his head. She's frozen in place just watching him with large eyes.

He leans down next to the man's ear, “You’re lucky I got better things to do than rip you apart…” he hisses out.

He webs the guys arms together behind his back and throws him against the wall and webbing him there. He’s covered from the neck down to his feet, he is definitely not moving anytime soon.

Andy comes over next to her and grips MJ’s arm, letting out her own shuddering breath.

“Fuck, Lars!” Andy says in realization and bolts back to the front of the pub to assess their security guard.

MJ can’t move, her eyes are glued to Spider-Man, she feels like she’s going to pass out from the swell of relief. He turns back and silently comes over gently grabbing her shoulders to look at her.

“C’mon let’s get you outta here.” He says, voice a little gruff as he wraps an arm around her. She leans her weight into him as a support almost instinctively. She’s still trembling slightly from the fear that gripped her heart.

They walk through the front and MJ sees Andy helping Lars sit up. He was okay, just a little scratched up. MJ smiles, glad to know her bouncer was safe and not dead.

“We’re gonna call someone and I’m staying with Lars. MJ you should go.” Andy says looking over at the two.

Before she can open her mouth and protest staying with them the vigilante speaks up, “I’ll get her home.”

Before MJ can even find her voice to respond the two are outside and he’s pulled her against him like before and starts swinging them across the city.

She’s confused and nauseous her grip tight as he swings them.

“You okay?” He asks her.

“Is this really the best time to ask me?” She mutters, groaning at the quick movements and feeling the air hit her face. Instead of it being refreshing, it stings instead.

“You gotta talk to me, it doesn’t have to be about that.” He says, voice a little rough. His grip on her tightening a fraction.

“Why?” She asks. She leans back enough to try and look at his face. Even covered in a mask, she’s trying to find something to help her read his expression.

“I just need a distraction or I’m gonna go back and rip him in half like the scum he is.” He mutters bitterly.

She narrows her eyes and whatever jumbled thoughts were swimming in her brain have finally clicked together, like pieces of a puzzle.

“Fine…but I can’t talk about what just happened.” she replies.

He grunts in acknowledgement, “Anything, we can talk about anything.” He keeps swinging, he doesn’t even need directions to get to her flat. He’s taking the right turns, as if he's done it a million times before.

“When were you gonna tell me you’re Spider-Man?” she accuses without hesitation.

He misses his next web, causing them to fall a bit before he catches them again. His masks eyes widen as he looks at her.

Her brows are furrowed and she’s looking at him expectantly.

“What ya talkin’ about? Course I’m Spider-Man.” He tries to play off with a fake laugh.

Her face doesn’t change she raises a brow in irritation, “Hobie.” Her voice is shaking a bit, “When were you going to tell me?” She says again.

He groans and stops swinging them, he lands them on a random roof and he sets her down. His hands cover his masked face as he shakes his head. Pacing back and forth. He turns to look at her, pauses, and then rolls his head back again.

He pulls his mask off and gives her a look like he’s mildly impressed. “What gave it away?” He asks.

She takes a deep breath, “You, you were the only one I had texted…and well, you called me Mariana. Pretty sure I never told Spider-Man my name.” she whispers.

He nods and walks closer to her, he brushes his hand along her cheek, “You’re okay right? He didn’t find you?” he asks. His eyes looking over her, making his own assessment.

She nods, “No you got there just in time.” She whispers, she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. She presses the heels of her palms into her eyes trying to stop herself from crying.

She’s safe. She knows she’s safe. Hobie came like he said he would.

She runs her hands down her face and looks up at him, his body has relaxed and he pulls her to him. Tightly hugging her. She easily wraps her own arms around him, grounding herself.

“You’re too much trouble…” He murmurs into her hair.

She chuckles in response and presses her forehead to his shoulder, “Maybe it’s you who’s trouble.” She replies.

He gives a dry laugh, “Yeah, probably.”

The two hold onto each other tightly, breathing together, trying to match their hearts to the same gentle rhythm.

#hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x oc #atsv hobie #across the spider verse fanart #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #atsv #spiderman fanfiction #spiderpunk #spider punk #my art

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witch-and-her-witcher · 4 months

Text

Intermediate

feysand | E | Corporate Mod AU

3.7k, part 2 (the shameless smut), tysm @popjunkie42 for reading this over and joking about excel with me 😘💖 (also, for giving me some killer lines to add in hehehe)

Warnings: technically dub con, but in a canon typical way

part 1

~☆~

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

As if Feyre was going to accomplish anything during the remainder of the day with the threat of the Teams messages from her boss hanging over her head.

It was finally happening, the reckoning Lucien kept warning her of for falling for yet another ungodly handsome, wealthy businessman.

‘You never learn’ she can already hear him saying with a shake of the head and a tap on the sticky bar top with shot glasses. It’ll be the first in a long line of tequila shots they’ll pound back to commiserate yet another solid job lost for both of them because of Feyre’s wandering eyes and insatiable pussy.

It’s kind of Lucien’s fault for always sticking his neck out for her to get her jobs. Especially jobs with such irresistible bosses.

Maybe she’ll start crying and tell Rhys exactly that when he tries to fire her. Throw Lucien right in the line of fire …

God, no, she owes him after the mess at their last job. And besides, as much shit as he gives her, she could never actually betray the prick.

But fuck, Feyre really thought she had it under wraps this time.

Well.

She hasn’t watched any of the Excel videos Rhys has sent her. Hasn’t done any of her work assignments on her own, sweet talking quiet Azriel from down the hall into doing it for her. There’d also been the whole ‘arm wrestling in the breakroom' incident between her and Cassian that had left a mess of shattered glass, blood from the cuts running down his arms and HR paperwork.

But it had all seemed charming at the time.

The company doesn’t really need another administrative assistant, they need a breath of spontaneity and creative spirit to spark their own wills to live.

Right?

Feyre worries at her bottom lip, stopping to readjust the lay of her golden-brown waves over her shoulder. Even if it would fall apart under a brisk wind, the dusty blue cheap suit jacket nips in just right at the waist, accentuating her tits — which look fantastic with the push-up bras she’s taken to wearing daily. Just in case.

Before knocking on Rhys’s office door, she debates one last time if she should pull her skirt up to show off her long, lean legs, or down to maintain some appearance of professionalism.

She tugs the material another inch up.

If you’ve got it, flaunt it, right?

She knocks on the door apprehensively.

And because she apparently has absolutely no sense of self preservation, she bumps into the office with her hip without waiting for a response.

Rhysand Night looks up from where he’s adjusting himself back into his pants.

Feyre’s jaw drops. Her face heats a thousand degrees hotter and she sputters an apology, trying to cover her eyes and managing to nearly drop the laptop she forgot was tucked under her arm in the process. She scrambles to keep a hold on it, grappling at the rectangular edges and eyes wide and drinking in the last sight of the monster laying between Rhysand Night’s legs.

No wonder her swaggers around like he’s packing heat.

There’s no remorse as Rhys runs his fingers through his mussed hair, nearly violet-blue eyes hazy and lips parted.

“Shit.”

Feyre gulps. “Yeah. Shit.” She backs towards the door, struggling not to drop the laptop again — really, why are they so awkwardly shaped and unbalanced? And why are her hands suddenly so clammy?

Why is she always so sweaty around this man?

“Where are you going?” Rhys’s voice is dark, husky, even lower than when he’d last spoken right by her ear like a rumbling lion “My, my, what are we going to do about that, darling?”

The number of times Feyre has gotten off to that single sentence is shameful. Perverted. Unhinged.

She needs to be locked up if this man is going to keep looking at her under his thick lashes, full lips forming around that sinful voice’s words … and flash his cock. Shit. It was only the tip she’d spied, but they way his hand had been gripping so much really told the story of girth and length —

“Feyre? Are you paying attention?”

Feyre clears her throat. “What?”

In a wholly uncalled for, ridiculously sexy manner, Rhys doesn’t bother to latch his belt closed. As if she’s already seen the goods, why bother looking professional. He leans against the back of his swivel chair and motions to the desk.

“I asked you to plug in your laptop. I want you to show me what you’ve learned.”

Learned? What, like, the impressive size of his cock? Or the fact that at any point in time during her short tenure under Rhysand Night’s employment she could have walked in on him with his dick out?

Is everyone masturbating freely around the place?

Did Feyre miss out on some kind of employee incentive program with her welcome packet, ‘Whacking It Wednesday’?

She feels like she’s losing her grip on reality.

“I didn’t take a picture or anything, I swear. I should have waited for you to answer before barging in —”

“What are you talking about?”

“What am I — what do you mean ‘what am I talking about’?!”

He uses his chiseled jaw this time to point her towards his desk. “You’re fine. I was just trying to clear my head before you arrived, it’s not a concern. But I do want to see what you’ve learned of Excel.”

Feyre feels compelled by those dark features, that come-hither scent of his expensive cologne. Against her better judgment, she steps closer to the walking sex god.

“Clearing your head?” she repeats, brow furrowed.

Rhys smirks. “All of the leading business people do it. There’s a Ted talk actually —”

“About people jacking off in their offices?”

His face falls at her words, the critical tone in her voice. Sternly, he asks, “Miss Archeron, what did I say about inappropriate comments?”

Feyre is hot all over and now she can’t tell if it's from embarrassment, lust or simply frustration. What the hell is he playing at? He’s the one with his cock out at the workplace, but he’s going to give her grief?

She comes closer.

How is he so imposing even leaning over?

The skyline behind him silhouettes his broad shoulders tugging at the fabric of his shirt. His inky black hair lays in tousles across his forehead. The sharp cut of his cheekbones are accentuated by the dimming sunlight. Shadows dance along his handsome face. He looks like a dark prince surveying one of his subjects.

She’s never felt so small as she does in the shadow of his critical, watchful gaze.

With an annoyed huff, she sets her laptop on his expansive, polished mahogany desk. The damn thing probably costs more than her entire flat. She can feel the hairs on the back of her neck prickle as he narrows his eyes on her.

It’s unfair how his proximity turns her brain into a hot, gooey mess of sexual thoughts and little else.

She’s Feyre fucking Archeron. It might not mean anything to anyone else, but she has her own sense of pride to maintain which includes not fawning over rich, powerful men at risk of her dignity, damn it.

She feels like prey being watched by a predator and it raises her hackles, makes her want to lash out.

“Well, show me what you’ve learned.”

Feyre slams her scan badge down on her laptop.

“I haven’t learned anything. Just fire me.”

He raises a brow at her. “Really? You’d give up just like that? Why did you even accept this job?”

Feyre crosses her arms and rolls her eyes. “Some of us have to pay bills. Sorry to hurt your feelings, but all of those pretty things people say in interviews are lies. No one really cares about working for your prestigious organization — they care about not having to move back in with their parents.

And because she’s feeling petty and fuck it, she’s getting fired anyway, she adds, “And as for this dark and mysterious act, I bet your hook ups are lying about how hot that is too. It’s not. It’s overplayed. And kind of creepy when you add in the whole jacking off in your office thing.”

“I think you’ll find your wrong on that, Feyre darling,” he says, eyes flashing with challenge. “Most people will stab their friends in the back for an opportunity to work at my organization. I have applicants lined out the door, all with prestigious degrees to match. As for the rest, it sounds like you’re awfully flustered thinking about me and my hook ups.”

“As if.” She scoffs. “Besides, what kind of hiring standards do you have if you hired me?”

Rhys steps around the chair, pushing it to the side and removing the buffer between them just as he pulls himself to his full height. Feyre presses her thighs together under her pencil skirt — tells herself it's just nerves. She swallows thickly as he shoves his hands in his pockets and stares down the blade of his aristocratic nose at her.

“Oh, darling, did you believe those pretty things you were told you about your qualifications?” He reaches forward, grasping a piece of Feyre’s hair between his fingers and rolling it. Feyre can’t seem to remember how to breathe. Rhys gives her a positively feline smile before exhaling, “They were lies.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” Feyre tries to back away, but her ass hits his desk and instead her breasts bounce with the impact. His gaze flicks down and then back up.

“I was going to fire you today. I told myself I needed to think with my head and not my cock. It’s truly an embarrassment to have someone so utterly unskilled on the same floor as me, as my top performers.” Feyre opens her mouth to protest, but he places one long finger over her lips. “Did you really think Azriel wouldn’t tell me? And I know about the friend in PR who has been doing the rest of the work for you.”

Shit. Sorry, Lucien …

Feyre tries to get her lips to move, get her mind to remember how to form words and string them together into semi-intelligible sentences.

She should only care about preserving her job right now.

But.

But now that Rhys is leering over her and there isn’t a chair in front of him, she can see that he hadn’t finished clearing his mind before she’d walked in on him.

The front of Rhys's trousers are bulging with lustful intent and a rock hard erection.

She licks her lips — forgets his finger, so the tip of her pink tongue swipes across that, too.

Fired. He’s going to fire her. Focus on that, not on the taste of salt on his skin that somehow is alluring and not repulsive. Don’t focus on how she wants to suck that long finger into her mouth, swirl her tongue around it with promise …

God, now that she’s gotten herself started, she won’t be able to stop.

Feyre fucking Archeron doesn’t fawn over rich, powerful men.

She also doesn’t follow rules. And it seems like it's time to bend this one.

Might as well go out with a bang, then.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Pardon?”

Rhys presses his thumb under her chin, tilting her face up and wrenching her eyes from staring at the outline of his massive hard-on.

“Are you … sure about that?” Feyre says breathily, gasping when he sticks his finger into her mouth when she finishes speaking. Effectively silencing her with that elegant, brown finger pressed down on her tongue.

She wants to squirm, but her heart is beating so quickly she’s pretty sure she’s going into shock. Feyre freezes instead, mouth hanging open, lower jaw caught between his thumb and finger.

Rhys is still staring down at her, nearly clinical in his assessment of her mouth, the bridge of her nose, the heavy weight of her lids suddenly.

“What are you offering, Feyre darling?”

She waits until he releases her tongue to speak. “No more Miss Archeron?”

Rhys growls and it shoots right to her cunt. Her insides tighten around nothing and it feels wrong wrong wrong even as moisture gathers in her panties.

“You’re a mouthy little thing, aren’t you?”

“You’re not very little yourself,” Feyre purrs back and in a rush of foolish bravery, she reaches out to grab between his legs. “Don’t fire me, let me prove I have other skills. I bet most people can’t handle you.”

Rhys dips down until his lips brush the shell of her ear as he speaks, “And you think you can?”

A shiver runs down her spine unbidden.

Feyre’s breath hitches, but she nods confidently.

Rhys’s low chuckle rumbles through them.

“I said I was done thinking with my cock.”

Rubbing two fingers back, she pushes through the fabric of his pants to skim his balls. Rhys inhales sharply. She presses her palm into the heavy weight of his shaft.

“C’mon, this is what all the leading business people do, right?”

Rhys’s head has fallen onto her shoulder as she strokes his length through his pants. His arms are bracketing her against the desk as he holds himself upright, biceps straining against the silken black fabric of his dress shirt.

“The point is to do it yourself to resist the temptation with a subordinate …” He groans as she slips her fingers under his waistband. “To not let lust addle proper decision making.”

Feyre tilts her head to let her hot breath skim along his neck. “That sounds boring.”

Her pulse is hammering between her legs and she’s pretty sure she’ll combust if she doesn’t get this man inside of her, filling her to the fucking brim. The skin of his cock is as silky smooth as his shirt, everything about him decadent and rich, rich, rich. Her thumb nail catches on the sensitive lip of the head of his cock, making him gasp, before she drags her fingertip along the precome slick tip.

Before she can get his pants undone, Rhys grabs her by the throat and presses her back flat on his desk. He looks completely ravenous, out of control as he stares down at her. His pupils are blown wide, swallowing up those pretty blue eyes. Feyre shouldn’t be as turned on as she is with her boss’s hand wrapped around her neck, but she’s hopeless as Lucien and her sisters have told her constantly, so with the hand that isn’t on his cock, she grips his wrist and pushes him harder against her windpipe.

A deep groan catches in the back of his throat.

“Fuck,” he says.

Feyre nods, using all of the pilates core strength to pick her legs up and rest her heels on the edge of the desk. Her skirt rides up lewdly as she spreads her legs to accommodate his presence between them, scoots her back up enough so she arches her breast upwards and lines their hips up as Rhys presses forward.

She rocks her hips forward, dragging her wet panties and aching core along his iron hard length. She whines under his hand.

“Fuck, darling, you’re a mess for me.”

Feyre bites her bottom lip and nods wordlessly again. There’s a niggling satisfaction as she thinks about ruining his outrageously overpriced pants. Rhys lets up his hold on her throat to reach down and run his fingers along her clothed slit, shuddering at the sticky mess he finds.

“I can take you, Rhys,” she says, grinding down against him.

“I’m sure you believe that,” he croons, pulling her panties aside to plunge two fingers mercilessly into her. Feyre arches upwards, moaning as he curls them upwards and catches the spongey, overly sensitive tissue inside of her. His massive hands easily reach inside of her and span to rub his thumb in tantalizing circles around the hooded bundle of nerves at her apex.

“You don’t?”

Rhy smiles devilishly at her, promising her demise. “I believe I’m going to ruin this pretty little cunt for anyone else.”

Feyre’s eyes shut as her mouth falls open, panting as he edges her into blissful ecstasy. “Do your worst.”

Rhys clucks his tongue in chastisement and removes his touch all at once. Feyre whines, starkly feeling the loss, the emptiness inside of her. She wiggles her hips, hoping to draw him back, but then she hears the zip of his pants and her eyes shoot open.

Pants shoved down to his thighs and thick cock in hand, Feyre swallows thickly at the sight.

Maybe she had been over confident.

The purple tip, the veiny shaft throbbing for her, the pretty balls — all hairless, perfectly manicured.

She hisses in pleasure as he rubs the head of his cock along her sopping wet opening. He doesn’t even bother to remove her panties, just pushes them to the side. She hooks a leg around his waist and tries to line herself up.

Rhys swats her clit with his cock.

“Behave, darling.”

“You know I won’t.”

Rhys looks down at her like a starving man.

He enters into her in one long, hard thrust and pushes all of the air out of Feyre’s lungs. She clutches desperately for something, anything to hold onto and lands with two fistfulls of his hair.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she pants, knees falling open in hopes to make more room for him inside of her suddenly impossibly small frame. “You’re so fucking big, oh my god.”

He doesn’t give her time to adjust before he’s languidly withdrawing from her insides and then plunging back in without mercy.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you, darling.”

Feyre throws her head back into the desk, not feeling a lick of pain as he sears a path of his very own through her. His, only his, wrecked for anyone else. He hadn’t been wrong.

“You’re so fucking big, Rhys,” she moans.

His teeth drag down her chest, taking off buttons without a care and exposing the perky flesh of her breasts where they bounce at the top of her bra.

“Louder.”

Feyre clamps down on her mouth, pressing her lips into a firm line. Like hell she’s going to let the whole office know what they’re doing.

“You can’t tell me what to do if you aren’t my boss anymore,” she sasses even as he starts to fuck her brains right out of her body.

Rhys doesn’t like that.

He draws back from the love bites he’s been leaving on her tits. Pens clatter and papers are sent skittering to the floor as he drags her body someone even closer to his. Feyre is worried her knock off heels are going to go flying right off of her feet the way they’re clinging to her ankles by only their plastic straps.

There’s nothing slow or sensual as he starts pounding into her, balls slapping against her ass and his hips digging into her as he grips her hips and presses her flush to him.

“I said,” he growls between thrusts, “Louder.”

Feyre scratches and scrambles at his chest for something to anchor her. The ache in her core has diminished as he fills her relentlessly, only to be replaced with a roaring fire of need that threatens to consume her entire being. Her abdomen clenches with building pleasure.

He doesn’t let up, instead tilting her up so he’s slamming right into the most sensitive parts of her.

Whatever stubborn hold on her voice she had fails her. Feyre lets loose a throaty “oh!” that has to rattle the panes of his opaque office windows.

“That’s right,” Rhys says, moving a thumb to rub her clit in time to his thrusts. “That’s right, darling. Let me hear it. C’mon, come for me, scream for me.”

“Rhys … Rhys … Rhys!” Feyre cries out, losing focus of everything except the mind-blowing tension in the pit of her stomach as it explodes.

Rhys comes apart like a great mountain shaking and erupting with molten passion. He paints her insides with his hot spend and it shatters the thin hold she still has on her sanity. The tremors of his cock spurting inside of her hurtles Feyre into another impossibly strong orgasm.

“Made for me,” Rhys is panting as she shakes underneath him. “There’s no realm of existence where my hand was going to replace the feel of that tight little cunt of yours. God, your ass.” He squeezes the flesh of her backside. “I knew I couldn’t resist you from the moment you stepped into this building, Feyre darling.”

For several minutes, his office is only filled with their ragged breathing. When he pulls out of her, Feyre groans weakly. His belt buckle clinks as he rights himself and collapses into his chair.

Feyre sits up, unabashed as she feels the mixture of their climaxes coat her thighs with the movement. She’s making an absolute mess of his desk and she feels no remorse over it.

Rhys reaches around her and comes back with a pair of glasses, putting them on with a whoosh of air. A great exhale to collect himself.

“Well, that …” He rubs his brow, then looks up at her with undeniable smug pride. “That was something else.”

Feyre gives him a lopsided smile, dropping her cheek to her shoulder, letting her hair cascade to the side and expose her breast under the torn open blouse.

“Thinking clearer now?”

He hums thoughtfully, steepling his fingers in front of his sensual lips. Feyre realizes she hasn’t tasted them yet, realizes they’ve just fucked fully clothed on his desk and haven’t even kissed.

She had things under wraps? Yeah, right.

Hopeless.

Instead of kicking her to the curb with nothing but a final pay check and come soaked panties, Rhys pulls her to straddle his lap. His broad hand warms her lower back.

“Not quite clear enough. Think you could help some more?”

Feyre grins down at him.

“Whatever you need, boss.”

#feysand #feyre x rhys #acotar #acotar fanfic #feyre #rhys #my writing

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baronessblixen · 7 months

Note

« What happened to you ? What’s this bruise on your face ? »

If you feel like writing again can you please do this prompt for me ? 🙏

Thank you for your patience! I've been thinking about this prompt for ages. Today I wrote it.

Set in season 6, hurt/comfort, some angst: Kersh puts Scully on another case without Mulder and once again she gets hurt. (wc: 1,347)

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2023

Fictober Day 11: Always Partners

She doesn't know if she's happy or sad that Mulder is here at the crime scene too. They weren't working together - again. And he shouldn't be here. She doubts that anyone called him. Even Skinner wouldn't dare. But now he's here. Much to her chagrin, he's not alone. She catches the exact second when Mulder spots her. One moment he's walking and smiling with Diana, the next he’s sprinting toward her, his face a mixture of terror and anger.

“What happened here?” he asks, his voice close to a bark. The paramedic working on Scully jumps back in surprise. But Mulder pays him zero mind.

“What happened to you?” His voice and his expression soften. He only has eyes for her. So far, Scully hasn’t found her voice. Too surprised is she by seeing him here. “What’s this bruise on your face?” He touches it gently and she winces. Mulder withdraws his hand as if burned and mumbles an apology.

“Who did this to you?” They’re surrounded by FBI, by paramedics and somewhere among these people lurks Diana, surely watching this exchange with a dagger between her teeth, waiting for the right moment to ram it into Scully’s back.

“Hey, give the lady some space, all right?” The paramedic elbows Mulder not so gently and he huffs in surprise.

“This lady is my partner.” The two enter a staring contest and Scully knows that neither of them can win it. The paramedic just wants to do his job and Mulder is all guard dog, refusing to move a single inch. She knows that his bark is worse than his bite, but if she doesn’t stop this, she will never be able to go home.

“Mulder, he’s just doing his job,” she says. Every word makes her jaw hurt. She barely registered the blow to her head. The attacker came out of nowhere, hit her good, and was gone before she even knew what was going on. Her memories as to what happened next are foggy. She remembers too many people, some of them asking her if she was okay. Skinner was there, and other faceless agents, one of whom called an ambulance. She remembers asking if they got the guy and passing out before she got an answer.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?” The paramedic asks.

“Yes,” she says at the same time as Mulder says “no.” They look at each other. A battle of wills. Scully hears the paramedic sigh and tears her eyes away from Mulder’s.

“I’m sure,” she repeats. “I’m fine.” Her words make Mulder groan.

“Scully, your face is black and blue. Did you pass out? Did she pass out?” The paramedic nods and Scully fears Mulder might snap.

“What the fuck happened here?” he asks, his eyes wild. Scully reaches out to grasp his hand. He calms as soon as he feels her touch. His eyes find hers again as he slips to the ground, kneeling in front of her so that they’re more eye level. He’s in the way of the paramedic but of course, he doesn’t care. His hands on her knees, his eyes plead with her.

“I was doing my job, Mulder,” Scully explains. “You know our job can be dangerous. We were tailing the head of a mob. One of his cronies got spooked and ran. He took everyone down who tried to stop him and one of these people was me.”

“Why are you even on this case?”

“Because Kersh assigned me to it, as you very well know.” Even after what happened with Peyton Ritter, Kersh is determined to separate them as often as he can. She didn’t want this case. She asked Kersh why they needed her and all he did was tell her to do what she was told before he dismissed her.

“Every time he puts you a case, you get hurt,” Mulder says.

“That’s the job.” And she’ll have to repeat the same thing at dinner with her mother Friday night. She’ll fuss, too.

“This isn’t your job,” he says through clenched teeth.

“Fox? Are you ready to go?” For a moment, Scully had forgotten about Diana Fowley. Now she’s standing there, glaring at Scully’s face, at the bruises there and if she’s not mistaken, the other woman is smirking with glee. As if sensing Scully’s rising anger, Mulder’s hold on her tightens.

“You have to go on your own, Diana,” he says matter-of-factly. “Someone has to stay with Scully.”

“She’s not alone,” Diana says, pointing at the paramedic.

“She needs someone to take her home.” Scully just watches this exchange, trying not to gloat. She can’t put it into words, doesn’t want to think too hard about it, but for once, she’s not going to decline Mulder’s help. As much as she hates to admit it, she needs it. She knows she has a concussion. Her body is still full of adrenaline and the pain will only become worse over time.

“There are plenty of other agents here. You’re working with me.” Diana looks directly at her when she says it. “Right now, you and Agent Scully aren’t partners.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Diana,” Mulder says, getting up. He stands behind Scully, a hand on her shoulder. “Scully and I are always partners.”

“Your loss,” Diana says, flipping her hair. “Remember this when you want my help next time.” With that, she walks off. Scully, Mulder, and even the paramedic visibly relax as soon as she’s out of sight.

“That was… something,” Scully says. “Thank you, Mulder.”

“For what?” he asks.

“For showing up here, for standing up for me.”

“Hey, did they give you the good painkillers this time?” He grins at her and what else can she do but smile back even if it puts her in pain?

“So you’ll be taking her home?” The paramedic snaps off his gloves, finally done with treating her wounds. “She most likely has a concussion and needs to be monitored closely. I advise you to consider going to the hospital after all, Agent Scully.”

“Thank you,” she says. “I’m a medical doctor myself and I know the risks. I’d rather go home.” The paramedic shrugs and hands her a blister of painkillers. He throws Mulder a look that seems to say ‘good luck’.

“Now that he’s gone,” Mulder says, helping her up from her chair. He doesn’t let go of her hand and she’s thankful because her knees feel wobbly. “Are you sure you don’t want to get checked out?”

“Maybe tomorrow,” she says as they start walking. “Right now I just want to go home. Why is everyone looking at me?” she asks Mulder as they pass other agents. “Does my face look that bad?”

“How honest do you want me to be?” His smile is as shaky as she feels.

“Mulder?”

“You have a very nice shiner, Scully. It’s- well, you look like you lost a boxing match.”

“Great,” she mumbles.

“Hey,” he says, his voice more serious. “It could have been worse. He could have had- it could have been so much worse. And once again I wasn’t there.”

“None of this is your fault, Mulder.”

“I know,” he says quietly. “But it feels like it. I should have been here. I should have-”

“You’re here now.”

“And I’m going to take care of you, Scully. Call me Dr. Mulder.”

“Well, then. Take me home, Dr. Mulder.”

He helps her into the car and kisses the cheek that’s not bruised.

“Couldn’t help myself,” he whispers before he’s gone again. She leans back, closing her eyes. She trusts Mulder to get her home and to take care of her. The last few hours are a distant memory. Here in the car with him, surrounded by his scent, by his mere presence, she can relax. The pain is getting stronger and she knows Mulder will suffer with her through the next few days. Just like partners do. And that’s what they are, no matter how hard Diana Fowley and Kersh may try to separate them.

#fictober23 #the words just came out of me today #whenever i'm fairly happy with a fic it doesn't do well #so excited to see what you guys think!#msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic

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missmaywemeetagain · 7 months

Text

Paisley Dreams (Part 2) 🏵💛🔥

Pretty sure there's only a small handful of you still reading my nonsense, but to those who are, thank you for your patience. Also, special thanks to those who kept me going after various blocks and meltdowns over finishing this (among other things). Would've thrown in the towel completely if it weren't for y'all. You know who you are and I love you. 💗💗💗 Anyway, sorry, this is probably a bit of a mess, but so am I... 😬

If you need a refresher, here's Paisley Dreams Part 1 🏵

TW: SEXXX, a little macho-possessive!elvis, the usual era appropriate female frustrations.

August 1970

If Pepper didn’t know any better, she would think she dreamt up the surreal encounter with Elvis that happened a few days ago. The only thing tethering the experience to reality is the yellow shirt he left her with, the one she’s a bit ashamed to say she’s been wearing to bed the past three nights, just so she can languish in his scent a little longer.

Of course, she hasn’t heard from him. It would be absurd if she had, or at least she keeps reminding herself of that when she finds herself spacing out during the slow moments at the diner or when taking off her stage makeup after the show. Elvis Presley is a busy man, and it’s likely he hadn’t given her a single thought since he left her pining and wanting in her drab little apartment.

Sure, he’d been good in the moment in making her feel special, and she can’t help thinking about all the little vulnerable snippets of him he showed her, all the strange things they seem to have in common…

Stop it. This is stupid. I’m never gonna see the man again.

It’s been a mantra in her head for days now, but unfortunately her touch-starved body hasn’t gotten the memo. If she had any sense, she’d drop her delusional fantasies and move on with her monotonous life.

“Hey, Pepper! Some guy is here to see you. Says it’s urgent,” Paul, the show’s stage manager, tells her briskly as she put the final touches on her face.

With no clue who it might be, a tightening in her belly warns it could be another overzealous “fan” like the one who caught her out the other night. But Paul is skilled at getting rid of the creeps, so it leaves her wondering as she makes her way backstage to the green room.

“Oh, thank God,” the short man sighs with palpable relief when she walks through the doorway. He looks incredibly familiar.

“Who…wait. Charlie?” she gasps in surprise. “What—what are you doing here?”

The man looks so glad to see her it takes her aback. “You are a hard woman to track down. Aren’t you ever home?”

“I…uh, I work two jobs, so not really,” she finds herself explaining. “I don’t mean to be rude, but why are you here?”

“Well, the boss wants to see ya tonight, needs ya to come to his show,” he says, pushing a large white box into her arms.

“The boss?” she asks, confused. He can’t possibly mean who she thinks he does.

“Elvis. Elvis wants you at his show tonight, so here I am to get you there. And that’s for you, to wear,” Charlie says with a knowing smile.

Pepper thinks that maybe exhaustion has caught up with her because there is no way this is real. She laughs a little, a giddy feeling pulsing through her veins, until the cold wash of reality douses her.

“That’s nice, but I have a show of my own to do, Charlie,” she says, sweeping a hand over her revealing costume. Her heart sinks and she’s a little angry Elvis presumed she could drop everything to be at his beck and call. “Thank Elvis for the invitation but remind him I really can’t afford to lose this job.” She hands the white box back to Charlie, unopened.

He sputters a little with panic. It makes sense—most women probably bend over backwards to accommodate a man like Elvis, but she has other things to worry about. And Elvis knows this, which makes her even more irritated.

“But…but he really wants you there, Pepper,” Charlie says in a futile attempt to persuade her. “He’ll be mighty disappointed if you don’t come.”

Her heart kerthunks at the suggestion Elvis has been thinking about her at all, much less for him to be disappointed by her absence, but it doesn’t quell the anger starting to build in her chest.

“Well, I’m sorry for that, but it’s too short of notice and I have a show to do. Tell your boss it would be good for him not to make assumptions.”

Charlie looks like she’s slapped him. She almost feels bad for him because she gets the impression, as wonderful as Elvis was with her the other night, he is not a man who likes to be told “no.”

“I need to be on stage soon. Bye, Charlie,” she says, fighting the urge to cry both with irritation and disappointment. She can’t afford to ruin her makeup this close to showtime and walks out before she can change her mind.

The smile she plasters across her face during the dinner show covers her aching discontent. She’s almost glad for the distraction—it takes her mind off the fact she’ll likely never hear from Elvis again. There is certainly no reason for a man like him to chase a woman like her, especially when she’s rejected him.

Lost in her dismal thoughts, she doesn’t hear Paul when he comes up behind her after the show. She jumps out of her skin when he touches her shoulder.

“I don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into, Pepper, but you’ve got someone important on the phone for you,” Paul says, looking at her a little incredulously with a quirked brow, “and that little guy is back.”

What?

She makes her way back to the green room for the second time tonight, a racehorse running laps in her heart as she huffs down the hallway in her heels.

Charlie’s eyes brighten when they see her and he says nothing; he just holds out the phone receiver towards her. Trepidation makes her shake when she grabs it because as much as she wants to deny it, there’s no doubt who it could be.

“Hello?” she squeaks out, then races to clear her throat and relax her voice. “Who is this?”

“Peppercorn, you best be gettin’ that cute lil’ butt of yours down here, ‘fore I gotta come getchu myself,” Elvis familiar drawl growls commandingly in her ear.

It’s unfair the way it makes her toes curl and her thighs tighten, especially when a certain sense of fury at his orders slices through her arousal. If any other man talked like this to her, she’d hang up on him, but Elvis Presley is not just any other man.

“Well, hello to you, too, Elvis,” she says with ire. “I told you, I have my own shows and I can’t just up and leave on a whim.”

“Don’tchu worry about none of that, darlin’. I’ll take care of everything,” he says so smoothly it almost covers the impatience in his tone.

“What does that even mean?”

He sighs on the other end. “Honey, money ain’t an issue. I’ll give you more money than they’d pay you tonight to come to my show.”

The force of his words hits her square in the chest, her hand tightening around the phone. “And what about when they fire me for leaving without notice, hmm? You just gonna pay for my bills from now on? I’m not a whore, Elvis Presley. And I don’t want your damn money.”

That stubborn streak her mama always took her to task for has her seeing red, but somehow she has enough sense not to hang up on him directly. Instead, she just thrusts the phone into Charlie’s hand and storms off, not listening to the crackling voice yelling through the receiver.

Oooh, the nerve of that man, she thinks, her blood boiling at his insinuations. He’d been so nice and thoughtful the other night, not this demanding cad offering to pay her like some hooker off the street. For a man like that, offering what he did, it is blaringly obvious that there would be strings attached to such an arrangement, and she isn’t going to be some kept woman.

The audacity of his actions and words has her raging the more she thinks about him. The late show barely takes her mind off it, the entire exchange sending waves of adrenaline through her blood every time it pops back into her mind. By the time she is back home, she’s exhausted but wired, upset that her daydreams about this man were just that—fantasies.

Pepper convinced herself he wasn’t like any other man—that he was sweet and kind and didn’t just want her for her body. What a joke.He may be rich and powerful, but he certainly made his intentions clear with his demands.

Once in bed, she doesn’t bother to stop the tears leaking from her eyes and dripping into the mattress. A sick feeling of regret churns in her stomach as her rage cools and she begins second guessing all her choices. How she managed to ruin her chances with Elvis.

Buck up, kiddo, he’s just a guy. A famous, talented, and ridiculously handsome one, maybe, but still just a man in the end. He doesn’t matter. Your family does. She may not have much, but at least she has her dignity.

Or so she hopes, a certain yellow paisley shirt clinging to her body when sleep finally takes her.

An incessant pounding rouses Pepper from a fitful slumber. At first, she thinks it might be a whopper of a headache she’d felt coming on after last night’s events, but as she forces her gritty eyes open, she realizes it’s not that at all.

Someone is pounding on her front door.

Adrenaline kickstarts her body, despite the sleep that tries to reclaim her, and a quick look at the alarm clock on her nightstand shows it’s not quite four in the morning. She is cautious and more than a little scared as she slips her too flimsy robe on over her nightgown, pattering through the apartment with bare feet. Approaching the door with an element of stealth, which seems awfully stupid when she thinks about it, she peeks through the peephole, praying it’s not some drugged out creep looking for a good time or a maniac she needs to call the cops on.

But there is no mistaking the shock of black hair and the purple tinted sunglasses of the man causing such a racket on the other side of the wood. Her stomach drops and her heart flips.

You’ve got to be kidding me. She takes a shaky breath and opens the door before he can continue his barrage.

Elvis starts a bit when the door opens suddenly, his shoulders squaring and spine straightening. For a second, he almost looks self-conscious about his behavior, but it is gone and replaced with a narrow-eyed glare before she can dwell on it.

“You gonna let me in, sweetheart, or are we gonna do this out in the open for everyone to see?” he drawls, but it has a cutting edge to it she doesn’t recognize from their first meeting.

Now that he’s here in front of her, her earlier stubbornness is hard to locate behind the butterflies in her stomach and the sudden apprehension she feels about him being here again. He sucks all the air out of the room after she wordlessly opens the door further to let him stride through.

Pepper pulls her robe tight across her body, trying to cover herself as though he hadn’t already seen her bare, as if he hadn’t knelt in front of her to dress her in that dark alley. The thought, along with the waft of his cologne as he passes by her, makes her knees weak.

“Wha—what’re you doing here, Elvis?” she asks, the words sticking in her mouth with sleep and confusion as she flips on the lamp near the couch.

She realizes the mistake the moment it happens. Now she can truly see him in all his glory—his post-show glow giving him an other-worldly quality she didn’t know was possible. His tan skin and lustrous dark hair are indulgent to her senses and it’s almost painful how endless his sapphire eyes are when he takes off his tinted glasses and rakes those eyes over her body.

It sends a shiver right down to her toes.

“Peppercorn, you’re one helluva stubborn little girl,” he says huskily, pointing a long finger at her, “makin’ me come all the way down ‘ere to talk some damn sense into ya.”

It’s piercing and heated the way he says it and she feels somewhere between a scolded child and a wounded lover, neither of which fits the strange (non-)relationship she has with him, but she feels it all the same. Logic tells her he has no right to come in here like this, but the fact that he’s here at all, looking ethereal like some sort of angry god, has all logic flying out the window.

Digging her toes into the wood floor to keep herself grounded, she finally finds her voice again, “Excuse me?”

“And all this nonsense ‘bout ya being some kinda ‘whore’,” he barrels on, “and I ain’t never said no such thing, would never say such a thing aboutcha.” The vehemence with which he says it makes it sound likeshe was the one who offended him and not the other way around.

Pepper is confused for a second because of this, as her first instinct is to apologize to make him feel better, but then she remembers why she was mad in the first place.

“Well, maybe if you didn’t offer to pay me to spend time with you and be there to satisfy your every whim, I wouldn’t think that’s what you meant,” she says quietly, her voice shaking only slightly, as she throws it back at him.

His eyes flash and narrow while his cheeks redden underneath his tan. The divot in his jaw ticks with tension, and for a split second she regrets her words.

She can’t for the life of her understand why he cares and has gone to all this trouble and seems so upset. She’s nobody of consequence, and God knows any number of women are lined up at the ready for him if he wants company. And yet he’s here.

This doesn’t help the way her heart knocks against her ribcage, though, and she squeezes her hands tight to try and control her rapid breathing.

“Don’t go puttin’ words in my mouth, lil girl,” he growls, stepping towards her, backing her into the wall. Only the tiniest part of her is frightened despite his size and anger because his proximity and intensity ignite something molten in her veins. Her mouth parts but the quippy reply dies on her lips.

“Why don’tcha wanna come to my show?” There’s an element of hurt in his voice that surprises her, and it tugs at her heartstrings. He looks down at her and it nearly causes her knees to buckle. “I-I-I jus’ thought—”

“I would love to come. It breaks my heart that I can’t,” she whispers mournfully, the words popping out before you can think better of them.

An impish little smile plays at his lips. “It does, does it?”

Pepper can’t help but roll her eyes, tilting her chin to the side, mostly to avoid being swallowed up by those churning eyes of his. “Of course.”

“Then why you gotta be so stubborn, baby?” he replies, gently scolding her. His slender pointer finger grazes her jaw, then turns her chin back towards him.

She hopes he doesn’t feel the way she shudders from the contact. It’s embarrassing enough that she can’t seem to hold her ground with him in front of her like this. That she’s melting at his slightest touch. She struggles to get the words out, feeling heady with the heat of him so close.

“I don’t…it’s important for me to be able to take care of myself. I’ve had to for a long time. And you don’t need to give me anything for me to want to come see or spend time with you—you shouldn’t have to. Besides,” she adds quietly, looking down, “I’m not really the kind of girl who…um…takes advantage of things like that. So, as much as I want to, I can’t—"

The rest is swallowed before it can come out by the sweet softness of his plush lips pressing against her own. She gasps in surprise, but that, too, is consumed by his mouth. His hands cup her face, tilting it up towards his and Pepper flails for a moment in confusion until the gentle insistence of his kiss subdues her completely.

Warmth spreads through her limbs, followed by electric tingles which bounce around her stomach and suck the breath out of her lungs. Her hands land on his chest, feeling heat and dampness from sweat, his heart thrumming underneath her palm. It’s faster than she expects and in disbelief, she wonders if it’s because of her.

When he pulls away, lashes fluttering up to meet her gaze, it’s as if a rocket implodes inside her chest. She’s a goner—if she’s honest with herself, she has been since the moment he defended her in the alley—and she knows it’s a bad place to be with a man like Elvis. She struggles valiantly against her baser instincts.

“Wh-why did you do that?” she chokes out, still confused about the fact that Elvis Presley just kissed her.

His eyes go dark. “Did ya not like it?” he asks, concerned.

“N-No, no, it isn’t…it was lovely, I just—I mean, why me?” She looks up at him with earnest eyes.

Relief spreads across his face and he runs his knuckles over her cheek. “Honey, you are the realest person I’ve met in this godforsaken town—hell, anywhere, as a matter of fact—a-an’ the only one who ain’t asked o-o-or expected a damn thing from me in a long time. You jus’…understand.”

Surprisingly, she does.

“Now, with that said, I like ta—" His head comes down, pressing the sweaty warmth of his forehead against hers. “—give gifts and help those I care about.” He nuzzles his nose into hers. “You gonna let me help you, Peppercorn?” he whispers against her cheek.

Her mouth parts by its own accord as her insides go gooey, and those soft lips devour hers again before she can reply. Fisting the lapels of his jacket in her hands, she barely recognizes the moan that escapes her as being her own.

He pulls away slightly, pressing kisses into her jaw and down her neck. It’s utterly intoxicating.

“Elvis…” is all she’s able to groan out. He’s an assault to her senses in the best way, causing every nerve ending to go into overdrive, logic and caution be dammed.

“Gonna be good f’me?” he rasps, lightly brushing the backs of his fingers down over her breast. She gasps and her nipple pebbles hard in response under the silky friction of the fabric of his yellow shirt. Back arching, her body seeks more of him.

He hums, pulling her up into a blistering kiss that sets her on fire. Mind wiped clean, she leans into his touch when he palms the underside of her breast.

“Thought you was mad at me and here ya are wearin’ my shirt to bed,” he drawls with a knowing smirk, his finger toying with the top button. “Now why would ya do a thing like that, huh, darlin’?”

“I…” she says breathlessly but stops when she has no defense. Her cheeks turn fire-engine red, both from being caught out and from the fact he is much too deftly popping the first button, which due to the size of the shirt lies squarely between her cleavage, open. The fullness and heaving of her breasts push the fabric further apart.

“Hmm, I see,” he tuts. His finger traces its way down to work the second button. “Were ya dreamin’ about me, honey?”

Pepper whimpers and her thighs clutch together involuntarily at his whispered words, and he doesn’t miss this little tell, not by the little smirk on his face. The second button pops and the shirt falls open more.

He swoops her up against him for another kiss, his tongue swiping through her lips and rolling against hers. The rapidly-firming outline of his cock pressed against her belly is not lost on her, either.

“My lil’ Peppercorn, thinkin’ she’s gotta be all rough and tough all by her lonesome,” he murmurs as he makes quick work of the other buttons, his fingers grazing the bare skin of her abdomen. She trembles at his touch. “Don’t gotta worry no more, baby, I gotcha,” he purrs. In any other situation, she might find it condescending, this way he’s taking her to task for being cautious and independent, but she can’t quite bring herself to care so much anymore.

Elvis steps back a little, those shining blue eyes flaring a bit when he gets a look at her in her simple white cotton panties. He looks almost gleeful which banishes her self-consciousness at not wearing something sexier to bed. God knows the last thing she expected last night after she showered was Elvis Presley admiring her choice of underwear.

“Lemme take care of ya?” he asks dreamily, and the words go straight to her core, tingling her swelling lower lips in anticipation of what she hopes he is going to do to her.

All she can manage is a low whine of consent, nodding her head furiously just in case it isn’t clear how badly she needs him to touch her.

Elvis smiles and flits his fingers over the cotton covering her mound. The slightest brush of his finger against her clit sends her spasming like a live wire. It’s embarrassing, yet by the boyish dimple in his cheek, she reckons he’s pleased as punch.

“You been touched like this before, baby?” he asks quietly, circling over her so lightly she feels she might explode from want.

Blinking rapidly, she tries to focus enough to reply. “N-not in a long w-while,” she admits, relishing the sensation of him brushing over the soaked center of her underwear. She can’t help the roll of her hips towards his hand, desperate for more.

“Mmm,” he tuts, nodding to himself. Thankfully, he obliges her by pressing slightly upwards, pushing his panty covered finger up into her hole just a little, the palm of his hand putting pressure on her sensitive clit.

He only gives her a second of this, just long enough for her to gasp out, before he’s moving along. Her knees threaten to buckle and she whines. Then his mouth his on hers again, inhaling her exhale as he kisses her into complete submission.

Pepper loses track of how long they kiss, only that her lips are swollen and that she aches for him with every fiber of her being. The rhythm of his mouth is hypnotic and when he slides his hand down the front of her, into her damp curls, and finally gives attention to the place she wants him most, she cries out in pleasure.

Her legs falling open, he takes the cue and teases the hood of her sex. Nothing has prepared her for this—not her imagination nor her few previous experiences with men could ever match up to the blinding arousal she’s feeling right now.

Surprising her, he bends down, continuing his kisses down her chest, over the rise of her breasts and down her stomach. When he kneels in front of her, a waft of déjà vu comes over her, except this time he is undressing her instead, making the entire scene so erotic with his kiss-swollen lips and bedroom eyes and his hair falling in his face that she feels a needy, throbbing desire between her legs.

His tongue traces her belly button, distracting her from the fact he’s pulling her ruined underwear down her legs to puddle at her feet. It’s not until his lips are pressing into her mound that she realizes his intentions.

“Oh!” Her eyes flying open, she squirms a little in panic—she’s never had a man kiss her down there, and sure as hell didn’t consider that Elvis would want to do such a thing, but there he his, looking up at her, one eyebrow cocked. His eyes don’t leave hers as he swirls that tongue of his around her bud.

“Oh—omigod,” she cries, breath hitching. Her body goes into overdrive at all the new sensations, and he just smiles against her, snacking and lapping away at her, as happy as can be. The surreal nature of it all has her questioning her sanity, but the fleeting thought is quickly overwhelmed by the coil rapidly tightening in her belly. She hurtles towards an orgasm she’s not entirely ready for because she desperately doesn’t want this pleasure to end. Mewling and begging, it only takes one slender finger sliding up into her snatch coupled with the delicious, tongued assault on her clit to send her catapulting over the edge.

Her body tenses, then shudders violently against him as a silent scream catches in her throat. The heat rushing over her has nothing on any climax she’s ever had before which becomes evident in the way her legs shake and threaten to give way completely. Thankfully, Elvis holds her steady by the backs of her thighs, not letting her slump down to the floor like a sack of potatoes as her body relaxes. She can barely breathe for the way he licks her through the end of it, his enjoyment of her arousal obviously not just for her benefit.

Pepper vaguely registers her soft moans and her shivering limbs as she comes back into herself. Her head clonks back into the wall while she tries to get ahold of senses. She can’t seem to come down, though, not with this gorgeous man prostrated at her feet, enjoying her as though she were water in the desert.

Everything goes blank, everything but him.

Then he’s upright again, pressing his body into her, into the wall, his head nuzzling the soft spot under her ear. “Ya like that, honey? That okay?”

If she were more cognizant, she might think more on how he seems almost unsure of his abilities, but as it is, she barely manages a nod.

“S’wonderful,” she slurs, though she’s completely sober.

He smiles against her neck, chin sticky with her arousal. She doesn’t care. At this moment, all she wants is to be consumed by him, crushed by him, taken care of by him. All earlier arguments are forgotten, especially when he ruts against her bare leg, his erection hard and seeking.

“Can I, darlin’?” he whispers imploringly with a punctuated roll of his hips. “Hims need her bad.”

She wants to giggle at the cuteness of his baby talk and at the gallantry of his asking rather than taking—as if she would deny him—so instead she just nods yet again, pulling at the confines of his suit jacket.

In a near-frantic battle with his elaborate outfit, his belt finally clanks to the floor along with his pants and discarded jacket. When his cock springs free, unencumbered due to the lack of underwear, she is almost shocked, but is too distracted by what seems to be a wholly perfect representation of the male form.

It makes her look him up and down with an awed and heated gaze, somewhat disbelieving this otherworldly man wants her. By its own accord, her hand palms the heavy heat of him, sending a thrill though her when he groans out her name.

Needy and already dripping from the slit in his angry pink tip, he thrusts his cock into her hand. “Please, baby,” he breathes and all at once she realizes he is as desperate to have her as she is to have him.

She’s never fucked standing before and if she were in her right mind might be a little concerned about the mechanics of such a thing, but nature has a way of prevailing and without much to-do, Elvis lifts her long legs around his waist and braces her against the wall.

They both groan as he enters her. She’s more than wet, but his size and her lack of recent experience creates a stretching burn, nevertheless. It makes her hiss and bite down on her lip and being the observant lover he has turned out to be, he freezes partway in.

“You okay?” he asks, worried, and she nods emphatically because no, she doesn’t want him to stop but yes, it has been awhile since a man traversed this part of her. The bite of her nails on his shoulders is enough to remind him to go slow, despite the desire to fuck each other into oblivion.

With the utmost patience he works his way in with shallow, gentle thrusts as she coats him with her slick and relaxes enough to let him burrow deeper. The tight fit is delicious on his cock, which he makes note of in a string of murmured baby talk praises in her ear of what a good girlshe is and how tight she feels and how he’d just make a home in her pretty lil’ beaver forever if he could.

All this has her tingling and radiating warmth from the inside out and she begins to roll her hips to let him know she’s ready. It’s not long then before he’s nestled deep inside, his sweaty forehead pressed to hers before kissing her deeply. She tastes the tang of herself on his tongue, something that shouldn’t make her moan into his mouth, but she does, clinging to his shoulders as he finally begins to move in earnest.

And consumed by him she is—by his smell, his taste, the hard and soft planes of his body sliding against her own so deftly, thoroughly slotted as if made for each other. His rings cut into the bottom of her thigh as he grips her there in such a way that suggests he thinks she might float away and disappear without him there to anchor her.

He might very well be right.

Boldly, she meets his increasingly deep and pointed thrusts with the snap of her hips, as best she can at least, considering her lack of leverage. She chases him and he her, like some sort of erotic ouroboros eating its own tail. There is nothing but him and her and the joined chorus of breath in their near-frantic lovemaking.

Pepper has never come twice in a row with a man, not ever, yet as he plunders her just the right way in all the right spots, the telltale signs of that tension in her core spring to life again. He’s skilled in making her body sing, considering he barely knows her—or perhaps he knows her better than anyone else in his gilded town. Regardless, he coaxes her back to the edge with him with the softness of his lips and the scrape of his teeth and the caress of his fingers and hands in her most intimate places.

Skilled but sweet. Confident but desperate. The dichotomy of this man confounds her. Her back scrapes against the wall in time with the piston of his perfect hips, and the music of his soft moans has her near orgasm once again.

The build is slower this time and she relishes in every sensation, trying to commit them to memory. When she finally shatters around him at the crest of it all, Elvis shudders with a low groan and thrusts impossibly deep before pulsing hard, filling her with cum.

They collapse in on each other then, a panting silence filling the space around them. His breath is wet and heavy in the crook of her neck. She mindlessly runs her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, which is damp with sweat.

Oh, she’s in deep trouble with this one and she knows it. Part of her wants nothing more to stay like this forever, back scraping against the plaster, collapsed in a satisfied heap in Elvis’ arms.

A pleased hum comes from him, vibrating her sensitive skin, as he nestles deeper into her, despite the softening of his penis. It is needy and cuddly and unexpected based on the way he barged in earlier. But he continues to hold her tight, and she is powerless to deny him such a comfort.

She doesn’t want to.

“Come back with me, honey,” he whispers into the shell of her ear, causing her skin to pebble. “Please.”

Pepper wants to cry at the vulnerable way he says it and how it leaves her feeling so special because it seems to prove this was not just an angry, possessive fuck from a man who always gets what he wants. No, it feels charmingly sweet and melts her heart and body in all the right ways. It would be so easy to go, so tempting to fall into his arms again and again.

But things have never been easy for her and her damn pragmatic mind won’t let it rest why he showed up here in the first place.

“I—I can’t leave my jobs,” she whispers, her fingers carting through his dark hair by their own accord as his lips tackle her pulse point. She feels him smile against her skin, an action which shoots straight into her core, as if he hadn’t left her sated twice already.

“Well, I thought ya might say that, but it jus’ so happens the Hilton has a book-keeping openin’, if ya want it,” he says dreamily.

It takes a moment for her post-coital brain to make sense of what he’s saying. She pulls back.

“Wait. Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack,” he replies, forcing his pleased grin into a serious scowl.

Her heart pounds even more than it did when his lips were on her. She knows jobs like this are hard for people like her to come by. Most casinos don’t want to take a chance on a showgirl doing their books.

This could change everything for her.

“I…but I don’t have much experience and they’ll never—” she babbles, sending herself into a panic.

“Baby,” he shushes, finally removing himself from her and setting her down gently, “you’ve already got the job.” He smooths her hair, lulling her into relaxing.

She shakes her head in disbelief. Part of her wants to balk against the kindness, telling her she didn’t earn it for herself. Elvis gleans this, however.

“Let me help you, darlin’,” he coos at her, brushing her hair over her shoulder. “Please. Let someone else take care of ya for once.”

Tears spring to her eyes. She can’t help it. The rollercoaster of the last few days has left her raw.

“You didn’t have to—it’s too much,” she sniffles, blinking back the tears.

“Wasn’t nothin’, baby. And you’ll be great, workin’ with all those numbers,” he says, rubbing the pad of his thumb across her cheek. “And, it ain’t entirely selfless,” he muses, “considerin’ you’ll be workin’ in the same place as me and they don’t need you to start for a couple weeks. Those hours give you plenty of time to come see me. To be with me.”

She can’t help but chuckle at that. “But I have to—”

“Good thing about that signing bonus, too. Means ya won’t have to worry ‘bout leavin’ those other jobs of yours,” he says nonchalantly.

“I’m sure you had nothing to do with that,” she says, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Nope, no siree.” His eyes twinkle at her.

Her guarded incredulousness disintegrates when she realizes he listened to her. Despite the misguided way he went about it, he figured out her need to be self-sufficient, solved the problem holding her back from him, and managed to get her a job she could barely dream of a few days ago.

It’s infuriating to her head-strong nature that he’s so deftly wheedled around all the obstacles and that she wants nothing more than to be in his arms and hear his vulnerability and go to his damn shows.

“Whadya say, Peppercorn? Will ya come be with me?” He says it with only the slightest tremor of doubt, those soulful eyes of his searching hers, dredging up feelings she knows will likely bite her in the ass later.

Finally, she takes a deep breath and nods. “Fine,” she tries to say with a hint of frustration, but she’s unable to keep her hopeful smile from raising the corners of her mouth.

The dimple carved out beneath his apple cheeks makes it all worth it and sends a shower of tingles through her body. He swoops her up in his arms, kissing her deeply and hugging her so tight she can barely draw breath.

Suffocated by Elvis Presley’s kisses wouldn’t be such a bad way to go, she thinks humorously as he takes her breath away.

“I should go clean up and pack some things,” she pants when they finally tear themselves away from each other.

He nods, looking mussed and blissful, his bedroom eyes heavy as though the night’s events have finally all caught up to him. Holding her hand until the last possible second, she’s near convinced that he’s about ready to fall asleep standing up.

She’s halfway down the hall when he calls out to her, voice husky. “Hey, honey.”

Pepper turns back to look at him.

“Bring the shirt,” Elvis says, his dark brow quirking suggestively, “I like it on ya.”

He gives her an idea, a bold one she acts on before she can think too much on it. “Bet you’d like it off me even more,” she says, sliding the already open shirt off her shoulders. It falls in a soft heap around her feet.

His eyes go wide and take in her bare form from head to toe. “Damn, woman, I think ya might be right.”

And with a growl, he charges her, sending her into shrieking giggles as she flees into her room. Tapping some hidden reserve of energy, he lifts her and throws her on her unmade bed, and then climbs in on top of her, showering her with kisses everywhere.

Loving the way his long body presses her into the sheets, she feels utterly content for once in her life to let loose a little and live in the present without a care in the world.

“Gonna take care of ya,” he whispers, running his hand reverently over her naked curves.

And she knows he will.

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Taglist Pt 1

@eliseinmemphis@russian-soft-bitch@tattywood

@sassanoe@thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle@carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23

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@simplyamberj@claire-elvisgirl@everythingelvispresley@louisejoy86@deniseinmn @madelynpresley

#paisley dreams #paisley dreams part 2 #elvis smut #elvis presley #elvis #elvis x oc #elvis x peppercorn #elvis presley fanfic #if you’re looking for trouble #you came to the right place #elvis imagine #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fic #elvis presley fic #elvis 1970 #las vegas #showgirl

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