#Raccoon Out Of The Garage | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fioredeciliego · 2 months ago

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How to Kidnap a Mafia Boss: A Step by Step Guide - Karina x Fem!Reader

13K Words

Now, her night had taken a turn for the worse. Nina’s ex-boyfriend, who had the temperament of a rabid raccoon, had shown up uninvited, creating a scene that had them fleeing the club like fugitives.

“Nina, you owe me for this,” Y/N muttered under her breath, fumbling with her car keys as she fast-walked toward what she thought was her car. Her hands shook slightly as she unlocked the door. She was just grateful Nina had ditched the ex in time for her to make a clean getaway.

The parking garage was far too quiet, the kind of quiet that makes every sound—like the echo of her own footsteps—seem amplified and sinister. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched, her paranoia fueled by the faint scuff of shoes against concrete somewhere behind her.

"Just get to the car, Y/N," she whispered, clutching her phone in one hand and her tiny purse in the other.

She glanced over her shoulder and swore she saw movement in the shadows. Her heartbeat spiked. Nope, nope, nope, she thought, practically throwing herself into the driver’s seat. She slammed the door shut and locked it, her breath coming out in shallow gasps.

Fumbling, she jammed the key into the ignition, and the engine roared to life. Without hesitation, she backed out of the space and sped toward the exit ramp, desperate to put as much distance as possible between her and the creepy parking garage.

As the cold night air seeped through a cracked window, she exhaled slowly, trying to calm her racing heart. "Okay, Y/N, you’re safe. It’s fine. Just head home and—"

A muffled groan cut through the air like a knife.

She froze, her hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her eyes darted to the rearview mirror, but it was too dark to see much of anything.

Another groan, this time louder.

Y/N’s pulse thundered in her ears. Her mouth went dry as she slowly turned her head, half-expecting to find a horror movie monster or a deranged hitchhiker. Instead, her eyes landed on a figure slumped in the back seat—a woman with sharp, striking features, her arms bound tightly behind her back and a gag over her mouth.

Y/N’s scream tore through the car, shrill and panicked.

The woman jolted slightly, her eyes narrowing in annoyance rather than fear. She let out a muffled sound through the gag, which only made Y/N scream again.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! What—who—why—WHAT?!” Y/N shrieked, scrambling for her phone and nearly dropping it in her lap.

The woman in the back seat tilted her head and raised an eyebrow, her bound hands twitching slightly as if to say, Calm down.

“Calm down?! You’re tied up in my back seat! What is happening?!” Y/N babbled, her voice pitching higher with every word.

The woman let out another muffled groan, this one decidedly annoyed, and jerked her head toward the gag as if to say, Take it off.

Y/N shook her head wildly. “Oh, no, no, no. You could be some kind of psycho! What if this is a trap? What if you’re a mob boss or something?”

The woman rolled her eyes so hard Y/N swore she could hear it. She let out a string of muffled sounds that were probably curses, her gaze sharp and exasperated.

Y/N took a shaky breath, trying to process the surreal situation. She looked from the woman to the road ahead, realizing she was still idling at the bottom of the parking ramp. She reached for the gear shift, her hands trembling.

“Okay,” she muttered to herself, “you’re going to pull over and figure this out. You’re not a criminal. You’re not involved in some weird mob thing. This is just... a misunderstanding.”

The city lights faded behind Y/N as she sped down a quiet back road, her mind a chaotic swirl of questions, expletives, and mounting panic.

“What the hell do I do? What do I do?” she muttered, glancing nervously at the woman in the back seat. The woman—still bound and gagged—looked more annoyed than terrified, her sharp eyes tracking Y/N like a hawk.

Y/N’s car sputtered to a stop on the shoulder of the road. She threw it into park and buried her face in her hands, trying to suppress the urge to scream again. She failed miserably.

“Okay, okay, let’s just... think this through,” she said aloud, more to herself than to her mysterious passenger. She turned in her seat, facing the woman.

“So,” she began, her voice wavering, “who... who are you? And why are you tied up? Blink once if you’re in danger. Blink twice if—”

The woman blinked. Once.

“Oh god.” Y/N clutched her chest, the reality of her situation sinking in. “Are you serious right now? Am I, like, an accessory to a crime? Did I just become an accomplice?!”

The woman’s exasperated groan brought Y/N back to the present. She motioned with her head toward the gag, her eyes practically screaming, Take it off, you idiot.

Y/N recoiled. “Oh no, you don’t! What if you’re, I don’t know, dangerous? You could be a ninja or... or an assassin!”

The woman’s expression darkened. She slumped against the seat and let out a muffled sigh that sounded suspiciously like Oh, for the love of...

Y/N’s guilt began to outweigh her paranoia. After all, the woman didn’t look like a ninja. And her sharp, tailored suit—now wrinkled and slightly torn—was more “CEO at a power brunch” than “trained killer.”

“Fine,” Y/N said with a reluctant sigh, reaching into the back seat. “But if you try anything funny, I’ll... I’ll—”

The woman’s raised eyebrow stopped her mid-sentence.

“Right, you’re tied up,” Y/N mumbled, her cheeks flushing.

She fumbled with the gag, finally pulling it free.

The woman coughed softly before licking her lips and fixing Y/N with a level stare. Then, with a voice that was calm, low, and laced with biting sarcasm, she said, “So, what’s your plan, kidnapper?”

Y/N froze. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” the woman replied, her tone far too casual for someone in her predicament. “You abducted me. What’s your next move? Ransom? Interrogation? A dramatic villain monologue?”

“I didn’t abduct you!” Y/N protested, her voice climbing. “I-I didn’t even know you were in the car! This is all... this is just one big misunderstanding!”

The woman’s lips twitched, a hint of amusement breaking through her otherwise unimpressed expression. “Sure. A misunderstanding. Totally normal to flee a parking garage with a bound woman in your back seat. Happens all the time.”

Y/N groaned, slumping forward until her forehead hit the steering wheel. “This cannot be my life right now.”

An hour later, they were sitting in a dimly lit room in the sketchiest motel Y/N could find. The neon sign outside flickered ominously, casting the word “VACAN_” in garish red light across the peeling wallpaper.

Jimin—she had introduced herself with a sly smile and zero context—sat at the rickety table, sipping tea she had somehow brewed with the motel’s ancient coffee maker. She looked completely at ease, as if she weren’t a recently liberated captive but rather a guest at a particularly questionable Airbnb.

Meanwhile, Y/N paced the room, her phone clutched in one hand as she frantically Googled things like what to do when you accidentally kidnap someone and is returning a kidnapped person illegal?

“You’re going to wear a hole in that carpet,” Jimin remarked, her tone light.

“Not helping!” Y/N shot back, her voice cracking under the weight of her growing hysteria. “I don’t even know how I got into this mess! One minute I’m running from Nina’s psycho ex, and the next... you! In my car! What were you even doing there?!”

Jimin tilted her head, her dark eyes glittering with mischief. “Would you believe me if I said I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

Y/N stopped pacing and leveled her with a look. “No. No, I would not.”

“Smart girl.” Jimin smirked, taking another sip of tea.

Y/N groaned and flopped onto the bed, staring at the cracked ceiling. “I just want my normal, boring life back.”

“Boring, huh?” Jimin leaned back in her chair, studying Y/N like she was some fascinating puzzle. “Maybe this is fate. You needed a little excitement, and I needed... well, a ride, apparently.”

“Excitement?” Y/N sat up, incredulous. “This is not excitement. This is a nightmare! I’m pretty sure I’m committing multiple felonies right now.”

Jimin laughed softly, the sound warm and unexpectedly charming. “Relax, Y/N. I won’t tell anyone. Your secret’s safe with me.”

“That’s not comforting!” Y/N buried her face in her hands.

Jimin’s smile widened, and for the first time that night, there was a flicker of genuine softness in her expression. “You’re kind of funny, you know that?”

Y/N peeked at her through her fingers. “Funny? Seriously?”

Jimin shrugged. “A little. I mean, you’re clearly in over your head, but you’re trying. It’s... endearing.”

Y/N groaned again, flopping back onto the bed. “Kill me now.”

“No need for dramatics,” Jimin said with a chuckle, standing and stretching. “You’ve already got a mafia boss in your motel room. Isn’t that enough excitement for one night?”

Y/N’s head snapped up. “Mafia boss?! Wait, you’re joking, right? Please tell me you’re joking.”

But Jimin didn’t answer. She just smiled, enigmatic and infuriating, and turned back to her tea.

Y/N sank back against the pillows, her mind spinning. Whatever this was, it was far from over.

The motel room was as depressing as a B-movie horror set. The peeling wallpaper reeked of mildew, the flickering ceiling light buzzed ominously, and the lone bed looked like it had seen one too many questionable nights. Y/N, still in a full state of panic, paced back and forth while Jimin lounged on the creaky chair by the window.

“You’re hiding from people who work for me, by the way,” Jimin remarked, scrolling lazily through her phone. “In this dump. Bold strategy.”

Y/N froze mid-step, turning to glare at her unwelcome passenger. “Could you, like, not right now? I’m trying to figure out how to fix this!”

Jimin’s gaze flicked up from her phone, one elegant eyebrow arching. “Fix it? Sweetheart, you’ve kidnapped the wrong person. This is less ‘fixable’ and more... what’s the word? Oh, right—impossible.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart,” Y/N snapped, clutching her phone in a death grip.

“Touchy,” Jimin mused, her lips curving into a small smirk. “But seriously, if you’re going to go on the run, maybe aim for somewhere a bit... nicer? This place screams ‘criminal on the lam.’” She gestured around the room, her expression faintly disgusted.

Y/N groaned, throwing herself onto the edge of the bed and burying her face in her hands. “Why is this happening to me? I didn’t even mean to kidnap anyone!” She peeked through her fingers, narrowing her eyes at Jimin. “And you seem weirdly okay with this.”

Jimin shrugged, tucking her phone into her pocket. “Not my first rodeo.”

“What does that even mean?” Y/N asked, her voice pitching higher in disbelief.

Before Jimin could answer, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, sighed, and tapped out a quick reply.

“Are you seriously texting right now?” Y/N asked, incredulous. “Who are you even talking to?”

“Oh, just a couple of people who are probably freaking out because I’ve been kidnapped.” Jimin’s voice was laced with amusement, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Wait, WHAT?!” Y/N shot up, panic written all over her face. “You’re telling people where we are? Are you trying to get me arrested—or worse?!”

Jimin laughed, a sound so carefree it felt wildly out of place in their current situation. “Relax, I’m not giving them our location. I’m just telling them I’m alive. Gotta keep my people loyal, you know?”

Y/N flopped back onto the bed, muttering to herself. “I’m so dead. This is how I die. In a disgusting motel with a mafia boss who probably thinks this is all a joke.”

Jimin grinned. “It kind of is, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not!” Y/N shot back, her voice cracking. “This is serious! I have no idea how to deal with... with this!” She gestured wildly in Jimin’s direction.

Jimin leaned back in her chair, propping her feet up on the rickety table. “Here’s an idea: stop panicking. Order some food. Maybe a drink. It’s not like you can do much else tonight.”

Y/N stared at her, aghast. “Food? You want to order food? You’re a hostage!”

Jimin gave her a pitying look. “Honey, you’re the one who took me. You’re not exactly following the hostage manual either. Might as well make the best of it.”

Before Y/N could protest further, Jimin picked up the room phone and dialed.

“Wait, are you seriously calling room service?” Y/N asked, her voice filled with both disbelief and awe.

Jimin winked. “Yep. Can’t think on an empty stomach.”

Twenty minutes later, a knock sounded at the door. Y/N jumped to her feet, her heart pounding. “What if it’s the police? Or... or your mafia people?!”

Jimin rolled her eyes. “It’s room service. Chill.”

Y/N crept toward the door and peeked through the peephole. Sure enough, it was just a bored-looking teenager in a rumpled motel uniform holding a tray of food.

She opened the door just enough to grab the tray, then slammed it shut and turned to Jimin. “You’re unbelievable,” she muttered, setting the tray down.

“Thank you,” Jimin said with a grin, grabbing a sandwich and taking a bite.

Y/N watched her, torn between frustration and begrudging admiration for how unfazed Jimin was by... well, everything.

“Do you, like, care that you’ve been kidnapped?” Y/N finally asked, sitting back down on the bed.

Jimin considered this as she chewed, then swallowed. “Not really. You seem harmless, and this is more entertaining than most of my meetings.”

Y/N gaped at her. “Meetings?”

Jimin smirked. “What, you think mafia bosses just sit around counting money and making threats all day? We have schedules, sweetheart. Agendas. Conference calls.”

Y/N blinked. “You’re joking.”

“Am I?” Jimin teased, her tone maddeningly vague.

Y/N groaned, flopping onto the bed again. “I give up. You’re insane.”

“And you,” Jimin said, pointing at her with the remains of her sandwich, “are in way over your head. But hey, at least the food’s decent.”

Y/N didn’t reply, opting instead to stare at the ceiling and wonder, for the hundredth time, how her life had spiraled so wildly out of control.

In the corner, Jimin leaned back in her chair, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

The early morning sunlight filtered through the grimy motel blinds, but Y/N hadn’t slept a wink. She sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, staring at Jimin, who was peacefully sprawled out in the lone chair, arms crossed and head tilted back as she napped.

“How is she this calm?” Y/N muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. She clutched her phone, debating what to do. Call the cops? Would they even believe her? “Hi, yes, I accidentally kidnapped a mafia boss, can you come pick her up?” Yeah, no.

Jimin stirred, a faint smile playing on her lips as she stretched. “You’re a loud thinker, you know that?” she murmured without opening her eyes.

Y/N jumped. “How are you so chill right now? Aren’t you supposed to be mad? Or scared? Or... I don’t know, plotting your revenge?”

Jimin opened one eye lazily. “Mad? No. Scared? Not really. Revenge?” She chuckled, sitting up and fixing Y/N with a playful smirk. “Too much effort. Besides, this whole thing is kind of hilarious.”

Y/N gawked at her. “Hilarious? I could go to prison for this!”

“Only if you get caught,” Jimin replied, brushing invisible lint off her sleeve.

Before Y/N could respond, a low rumble caught her attention. She froze, her ears straining.

“What was that?” she whispered.

Jimin’s expression didn’t change, but her eyes flicked toward the window. “Oh, that? Probably my people.”

Y/N shot to her feet, her heart pounding. “Your people?!” She darted to the window and peeked through the blinds. Sure enough, three black SUVs were pulling into the parking lot, their dark-tinted windows making them look even more menacing.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” Y/N chanted, pacing in a tight circle. “They’re going to kill me. They’re going to kill me, and it’s all your fault!”

Jimin stood, stretching leisurely. “My fault? You’re the one who kidnapped me, remember?”

Y/N whirled on her, panic in her eyes. “What do we do? What do I do? Do I hide? Do I run? Do I—”

“You do nothing,” Jimin interrupted smoothly. She walked to the door, cracking her neck like she was preparing for a morning jog.

“What do you mean, nothing? They’re probably armed! They’re going to drag me out of here and—and—”

“Relax.” Jimin turned the lock on the door and opened it wide, stepping out onto the small concrete stoop.

“Relax?! You want me to relax?!” Y/N hissed, peeking out from behind her.

The SUVs parked in a neat row, and the doors swung open in unison. Out stepped several sharply dressed men and women, their expressions grim as they approached.

“Boss,” one of them said, inclining his head respectfully. “Are you okay? We’ve been looking for you all night.”

Jimin crossed her arms and gave them a lazy smile. “I’m fine. Just a minor detour.”

The man’s eyes flicked to Y/N, who was still half-hiding behind the doorframe. His expression darkened. “Is this the... person responsible for your detour?”

Y/N let out a strangled squeak, shrinking back. “I didn’t mean to! It was an accident!”

The man took a step toward her, but Jimin held up a hand. “Stand down,” she said, her voice calm but commanding.

“But, boss—”

“Stand. Down.”

The man hesitated before nodding and stepping back, though his glare toward Y/N didn’t soften.

Y/N blinked, peeking out fully now. “Wait, you’re not going to...?” She mimed a vague slicing motion across her neck.

Jimin turned to her, her grin wicked. “Not today.”

“Why not?!” Y/N blurted before she could stop herself.

Jimin stepped closer, leaning in until her face was just inches from Y/N’s. Her dark eyes sparkled with mischief as she said softly, “Because this is way too entertaining.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “Entertaining?! That’s why you’re not letting them... them—”

“Whack you?” Jimin supplied helpfully.

“Yes!”

Jimin laughed, turning back to her people. “We’ll be leaving soon. Go make yourselves useful.”

The group nodded and retreated back to the SUVs, though not without a few lingering glances at Y/N, who was still frozen in place.

Jimin turned back to her, hands on her hips. “See? All under control.”

Y/N gaped at her. “You’re insane.”

Jimin grinned. “Took you this long to figure that out?”

The silence in the car was thick, save for the hum of the engine and the occasional squeak of the windshield wipers. Y/N kept her focus glued to the winding road ahead, her fingers gripping the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles turned white. The events of the last 24 hours were a chaotic blur, but somehow, her current predicament felt even more surreal.

Beside her, Jimin reclined in the passenger seat with an air of complete relaxation. She’d kicked off her expensive heels and propped one foot on the dashboard, her other leg crossed lazily over her knee. She looked more like a co-pilot on a carefree road trip than a mafia boss who’d just been accidentally kidnapped.

"So, this is your grand escape plan?" Jimin’s voice broke the silence, smooth and laced with amusement.

Y/N shot her a side-eye glance. "What are you talking about?"

Jimin gestured vaguely at the car’s interior. "This—this charming rust bucket of yours. Bold choice for a getaway vehicle. Very… inconspicuous."

Y/N bristled, her grip on the wheel tightening. "It’s my car. Not all of us can afford bulletproof limousines and private jets, okay?"

Jimin tilted her head, smirking. "I wasn’t judging. It has character. Kind of like you."

"Gee, thanks," Y/N deadpanned, focusing on the road.

After a beat of silence, Jimin began tapping her fingers against the passenger window. "What’s with all the fast-food wrappers on the floor? Is this a mobile trash can or a car?"

Y/N gritted her teeth. "Excuse me for not having time to detail it before my accidental kidnapping."

"Touché," Jimin quipped, nodding with mock solemnity.

Y/N’s patience was wearing thin, but before she could snap, Jimin leaned forward and began fiddling with the ancient radio dials. Static crackled through the speakers.

"Don’t touch that!" Y/N swatted Jimin’s hand away, nearly swerving off the road in the process.

"Relax!" Jimin raised her hands in surrender, laughing. "You act like I was going to break it."

"It barely works as it is!" Y/N hissed, steadying the car.

Jimin leaned back in her seat, unbothered, and gave a long, exaggerated sigh. "Do you even have decent music in this thing, or is it just sad pop songs and static?"

"That’s it." Y/N glared at her. "New rule: no touching the radio. In fact, don’t touch anything."

Jimin smirked. "Kidnapper rules? That’s adorable."

"Adorable?" Y/N sputtered. "What about this is adorable?!"

Jimin shrugged, feigning innocence. "I’m just saying, you’re kind of terrible at this whole kidnapping thing. It’s almost endearing."

"Endearing?" Y/N echoed, incredulous. She yanked the wheel to make a turn, the car lurching slightly.

Jimin casually braced herself with one hand on the dashboard, the picture of calm. "Well, yeah. You’re panicking, floundering, and driving like you’re in a driver’s ed class. But you’re trying your best. It’s cute."

Y/N slapped a hand over her face. "This can’t be happening," she muttered to herself.

Jimin reached down and grabbed an open bag of chips from the console, inspecting the label. "Gas station snacks? Really? Do you ever eat anything that wasn’t fried in questionable oil?"

"Excuse me for not catering this little adventure!" Y/N snapped, snatching the chips away. "I’m a regular person, okay? Do mafia bosses usually have Yelp reviews for kidnappings?"

At that, Jimin burst into laughter—a real, genuine laugh that filled the small car. It caught Y/N off guard, and for a split second, she almost smiled. Almost.

"You’re funny," Jimin said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

"No, I’m panicking," Y/N corrected, glaring at the road.

Jimin waved her hand dismissively. "Same thing, really. But seriously, you’ve got to loosen up. It’s not like you’re in danger."

Y/N whipped her head around, eyes wide. "Not in danger?! You’re a mafia boss! There are probably a hundred people looking for you right now, and when they find me—"

"They’re not going to hurt you," Jimin interrupted calmly. "You’re with me. And besides…" She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "This is way too entertaining."

Y/N stared at her, speechless, before letting out a frustrated groan. "Unbelievable."

Jimin settled back into her seat, a satisfied smirk on her face.

For a while, the only sound in the car was the faint hum of the engine. Y/N’s irritation simmered as she focused on the road, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Sure enough, when she glanced over, Jimin was staring at her, her chin resting in her hand.

"What now?" Y/N demanded.

"Just wondering," Jimin mused, her tone playful, "what’s your next move, kidnapper?"

Y/N blinked, momentarily thrown off. She had no idea. She was completely out of her depth, and it must have shown on her face because Jimin’s smirk widened.

"Thought so," Jimin said with a chuckle.

"Can you stop talking for five minutes?" Y/N snapped.

"Depends," Jimin replied smoothly. "Do you have snacks that aren’t chips?"

Y/N groaned, gripping the wheel tighter. "I swear, you’re going to drive me insane before this is over."

"Challenge accepted," Jimin said brightly, popping a chip into her mouth with a grin that was equal parts infuriating and charming.

The neon sign of "Dottie’s Diner" flickered against the darkening sky, its hum faintly audible as Y/N begrudgingly parked the car.

“Happy now?” she muttered, turning to Jimin, who was already fixing her hair in the passenger-side mirror.

“Famished, actually,” Jimin replied with a grin, stepping out of the car as if she owned the place.

Y/N followed reluctantly, her nerves on edge as she scanned the small, homey diner. Booths lined the walls, filled with truckers and locals enjoying their meals under dim yellow lights. The smell of frying bacon and freshly baked pie lingered in the air, momentarily soothing Y/N's frazzled mind.

Jimin, however, walked in with the confidence of someone who had never been thrown into a dumpster fire of chaos. She slid into a booth by the window, gesturing for Y/N to join her.

“I’m not hungry,” Y/N grumbled, sitting down anyway.

“That’s cute,” Jimin said, waving a waitress over. “Two menus, please.”

The waitress, a middle-aged woman with a friendly smile, handed them menus. Jimin’s demeanor shifted instantly as she flashed the woman a dazzling smile.

“Hi, Dottie?” Jimin asked, glancing at the nametag.

“Yep, that’s me!” the waitress replied, beaming.

“Lovely diner you’ve got here,” Jimin said smoothly. “Feels like home. The kind of place where the food isn’t just cooked—it’s made with love.”

Dottie blushed, clearly charmed. “Well, you’re too sweet! What can I get for you?”

“I’ll take a cheeseburger, medium rare, with extra pickles, and… a slice of your famous apple pie for dessert,” Jimin said. She leaned in slightly, her voice conspiratorial. “I can tell it’s famous. Bet you make it yourself.”

Dottie laughed, waving a hand. “Oh, stop. You’re gonna make me blush.”

“Mission accomplished,” Jimin murmured with a wink, handing the menu back.

Y/N gawked at the scene, her mouth slightly ajar, as Dottie turned to her.

“And for you, hon?”

“Uh… grilled cheese and fries, I guess,” Y/N said, shooting Jimin a pointed look.

“Coming right up!”

The meal arrived quickly, and Y/N had to admit it was better than the gas station chips. Jimin seemed genuinely relaxed, savoring her burger with almost childlike enthusiasm.

“Okay, I’ll give you this,” Y/N admitted, stabbing a fry with her fork. “This is good.”

“See?” Jimin said around a mouthful of food. “I know how to pick ‘em.”

But the peace didn’t last long.

The bell over the door jingled, and Y/N glanced up to see a group of men entering the diner. They were dressed in dark jackets, their sharp gazes scanning the room until they landed on Jimin.

Y/N froze, her stomach plummeting. “Uh… friends of yours?”

Jimin’s face didn’t flinch, but her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Rivals,” she muttered under her breath.

“What do we do?” Y/N hissed.

Jimin casually wiped her hands on a napkin, leaning back in her seat. “We eat.”

“What—are you serious?!”

“Relax,” Jimin said, her tone calm but firm. “They’re not going to make a scene. Not here.”

But as the men approached their booth, Y/N could feel the tension crackling in the air. One of them, a burly man with a scar across his cheek, stopped just short of their table.

“Well, well,” he said, his voice smooth and mocking. “Yu Jimin. Didn’t expect to see you slumming it in a place like this.”

“Han,” Jimin said coolly, leaning back in her seat. “What a surprise. I’d offer you a fry, but I don’t like sharing.”

Han’s gaze shifted to Y/N, his smirk widening. “And who’s this? A new recruit? She doesn’t look like your type.”

“I’m not—” Y/N began, but Han cut her off.

“She’s cute,” he said, his tone dripping with condescension. “Bit out of your league, though.”

Y/N’s face flushed, though whether from embarrassment or anger, she couldn’t tell. She shot Jimin a nervous glance, but the mafia boss’s expression remained impassive, her fingers drumming lightly on the table.

“Leave her out of this, Han,” Jimin said, her voice low and edged with warning.

Han chuckled. “Touchy, aren’t we? You’re usually better at keeping your cool.”

“Don’t push me,” Jimin replied, her tone deadly calm.

Y/N, feeling cornered and frustrated, grabbed her plate of fries and, without thinking, flung it at Han’s chest.

The diner fell silent as everyone processed what had just happened. A fry slid down Han’s jacket, leaving a greasy trail in its wake.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jimin muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Oops,” Y/N said weakly.

Han’s expression darkened, and he reached for Y/N, but Jimin was faster. She grabbed her burger and hurled it at his face.

“GO!” Jimin shouted, dragging Y/N out of the booth as chaos erupted around them.

Plates flew, ketchup bottles exploded, and the entire diner descended into a cacophony of shouting and clattering dishes. Y/N ducked as a slice of pie soared past her head, hitting the wall with a wet splat.

“This is all your fault!” Y/N yelled as she crouched behind the counter.

“You started it!” Jimin shot back, grabbing a chair and using it as a shield.

“You could’ve done something diplomatic!”

“Diplomacy doesn’t work on people like Han!”

Han’s men weren’t faring much better, slipping on spilled drinks and dodging flying condiments. Dottie, armed with a rolling pin, chased one of them out the back door.

When the distant wail of sirens became audible, Han growled in frustration. “This isn’t over, Jimin,” he snarled, retreating with his men.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jimin called after him. “Go cry about your dry-cleaning bill!”

Back in the car, Y/N slammed the door shut and turned to Jimin. “What the hell was that?!”

Jimin smirked, brushing a smear of ketchup off her sleeve. “A bonding experience.”

“That was not bonding!”

“Come on,” Jimin teased. “Admit it—you had fun.”

Y/N glared at her, but the corners of her mouth twitched. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re adorable when you’re mad,” Jimin replied, leaning back with a satisfied grin.

Y/N groaned, starting the engine. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Jimin said, her tone smug.

And as much as Y/N wanted to argue, she didn’t.

The abandoned warehouse was dimly lit, its broken windows casting scattered rays of moonlight across the dusty floor. Y/N glanced around nervously, her sneakers crunching against shattered glass.

“This place screams ‘horror movie,’” she muttered, tugging her jacket closer.

“It’s functional,” Jimin replied nonchalantly, already pacing as she dialed her phone. “And nobody will find us here, so stop complaining.”

Y/N huffed, leaning against a rusted metal beam. “I’m not complaining. I’m stating facts. This is where people go to get murdered in every crime show ever.”

Jimin gave her a smirk, holding up a finger as the line connected. She began speaking in rapid Korean, her tone calm yet authoritative.

Y/N squinted, trying to make sense of the conversation. She couldn’t understand the words, but Jimin’s voice carried the kind of confidence that only made her more suspicious.

“What are you saying?” Y/N whispered. “You’re not calling someone to kill me, right?”

Jimin raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond, continuing her conversation.

Panic bubbled up in Y/N’s chest. Her eyes darted around the room for a place to hide. Spotting an old crate stacked behind a few barrels, she crouched behind it, clutching a broom she found leaning against the wall.

Jimin glanced over her shoulder mid-conversation, her lips twitching as she noticed Y/N’s not-so-stealthy retreat.

“Yeah,” Jimin said into the phone, her voice deliberately louder. “She’s a bit of a handful. Might have to deal with her sooner rather than later. You know how liabilities can be.”

Y/N’s grip on the broom tightened.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Jimin continued, her tone now dripping with mock seriousness. “I’ll take care of it personally. Quiet and clean.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. Her heart pounded in her chest. She bit her lip to keep from gasping audibly.

Jimin ended the call, slipping her phone into her pocket. “Guess I should get started,” she said to no one in particular, her voice carrying a playful lilt.

That was enough for Y/N. She shot up from behind the crate, wielding the broom like a makeshift sword. “Stay back!” she yelled, brandishing it wildly.

Jimin froze, her eyes darting to the broom and then to Y/N. Her expression was unreadable for a moment before her lips curled into a grin.

“What are you doing?” Jimin asked, barely holding back laughter.

“Don’t act innocent!” Y/N yelled, lunging forward. “I heard you! You were talking about disposing of me!”

Jimin stepped back gracefully, dodging the wild broom swings with infuriating ease. “Disposing of you? Really?”

“Don’t play dumb!”

Y/N swung again, but the broom’s bristles hit a low-hanging pipe with a clang. The momentum sent her off balance, and she stumbled forward, landing unceremoniously on the floor with a thud.

Jimin doubled over, laughing so hard she had to clutch her stomach. “Oh my god,” she gasped between breaths. “You’re— you’re the least threatening kidnapper in history!”

Y/N groaned, her face burning as she scrambled to her feet. “You’re the least grateful kidnappee in history!”

Jimin wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, still chuckling. “You really thought I was going to ‘dispose’ of you? That’s adorable.”

Y/N crossed her arms, glaring at her. “Excuse me for being cautious! You’re a mafia boss!”

“And you’re a terrible judge of tone,” Jimin shot back, smirking.

Realizing how ridiculous the situation was, Y/N’s glare softened into a reluctant smile. “Okay, maybe I overreacted.”

“Maybe?”

“Fine, I overreacted. But you shouldn’t mess with me like that!”

Jimin shrugged, still grinning. “It was too easy. And worth every second.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a small laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you haven’t abandoned me,” Jimin quipped, offering Y/N a hand to steady herself.

For a brief moment, their hands lingered. Y/N quickly pulled away, clearing her throat. “Let’s just focus on not dying tonight, okay?”

“Deal,” Jimin said, the teasing glint in her eyes not fading one bit.

The warehouse was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of the distant city and the occasional rustle of a rat in the shadows. Y/N sat cross-legged on the cold concrete floor, staring blankly at the wrapper of a granola bar she’d just eaten, her mind still trying to process the last 48 hours. Across the room, Jimin leaned against a tall crate, her face half-illuminated by the flickering overhead light.

The silence stretched between them, awkward and strange. Usually, Jimin would be firing off sarcastic quips or finding creative ways to tease Y/N about her bumbling attempts at “kidnapping.” But tonight, she was uncharacteristically quiet, her expression distant.

Y/N glanced at her, curiosity gnawing at her like a persistent itch. “Hey,” she said hesitantly.

Jimin didn’t respond.

Y/N cleared her throat, louder this time. “Earth to mafia boss. You okay?”

Jimin blinked as though coming out of a trance. “Hmm? Yeah. Fine.”

Y/N frowned, unconvinced. “You don’t look fine. You’re not even making fun of me right now. Should I be worried?”

That earned a faint chuckle, but it was hollow, lacking its usual bite. Jimin slid down the crate, sitting with her knees pulled up slightly and her arms draped over them. She stared at the floor, tracing invisible patterns with her finger.

“It’s nothing,” Jimin said, her voice quieter than Y/N had ever heard it.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing,” Y/N pressed, tilting her head. “I mean, it’s weird seeing you not... smug.”

Jimin glanced at her, a flicker of her usual sass returning. “Careful, you almost sound concerned.”

Y/N shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Hey, you’re my hostage. If something’s wrong with you, it’s my responsibility to deal with it.”

Jimin smirked faintly but didn’t say anything. The silence settled again, heavier this time.

After a long pause, Jimin finally spoke. “You ever feel like your whole life is mapped out for you? Like, no matter what you want, it doesn’t matter because everyone else has already decided who you’re supposed to be?”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “That’s... oddly specific.”

Jimin let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “Yeah. Welcome to my world.” She rested her head against the crate, her gaze fixed on the flickering lightbulb above. “Everyone thinks being a mafia boss is all power trips and fancy dinners. But it’s not. It’s exhausting.”

Y/N frowned, shifting her position to sit closer. “Exhausting how?”

Jimin’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. “You think I wanted this? That I woke up one day and said, ‘You know what? I’d love to be surrounded by violence and deceit for the rest of my life’? No. This... position was handed to me. Expected of me.”

Y/N’s curiosity deepened. “Why? Family?”

Jimin nodded, her expression darkening. “My dad was the head before me. And when he was... gone, everyone looked to me to take over. Not because I wanted it, but because I had to. No one else could keep things together.”

Y/N’s chest tightened. The vulnerability in Jimin’s voice was startling. For the first time since their chaotic “meeting,” she saw the cracks in Jimin’s carefully constructed persona.

“That’s a lot to carry,” Y/N said softly.

“You have no idea.” Jimin’s laugh was sharp, almost self-deprecating. “It’s not just about running things. It’s about living up to expectations. Keeping people loyal. Pretending you’re invincible even when you’re falling apart inside.”

The weight of her words hung in the air. Y/N didn’t know what to say. What could she say?

They sat in silence for a while, the distant city noise filling the void. Finally, Y/N spoke again.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re handling it better than I would,” she said, her tone lighter. “I’d probably have a nervous breakdown on day one.”

Jimin looked at her, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Oh, trust me, I’ve come close.”

Y/N smiled back, and for a brief moment, the tension between them eased.

Then Jimin, ever the master of ruining heartfelt moments, leaned forward, her smirk returning. “Look at you, caring about your hostage. How cute.”

Y/N groaned, her face heating. “Oh my god, don’t ruin this.”

“Too late,” Jimin quipped, her tone playful again.

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped her. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you’re still here,” Jimin teased, tilting her head.

“Not by choice!” Y/N shot back, but the humor in her voice betrayed her.

The car rattled as Y/N gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled determination, her eyes darting between the rearview mirror and the road ahead. Behind them, two black SUVs tore through the deserted outskirts of the city, their headlights slicing through the early evening gloom.

“This is fine. Everything’s fine,” Y/N muttered to herself, her voice tight with panic.

Jimin, sitting in the passenger seat, leaned back with a bemused expression. Her seatbelt was off, one hand braced casually against the dashboard. “You know, I was starting to think today would be boring.”

“Boring?!” Y/N shrieked, swerving to avoid a pothole that could have swallowed the car whole. “We’re being chased by people who probably want to kill us, and you’re calling this boring?”

Jimin shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, it’s not like this is new for me. But you—” She glanced at Y/N’s trembling hands on the wheel. “—you’re doing... okay, I guess.”

“Okay?!” Y/N shouted, her voice pitching higher as she narrowly avoided a wooden crate that had inexplicably fallen in the middle of the road.

“Relax, kidnapper. You’re alive, aren’t you?” Jimin smirked, but even she flinched as the pursuing SUVs sped up, now close enough for Y/N to see the shadowy figures inside.

“What do they even want?” Y/N hissed, her heart pounding.

“To kill me, mostly,” Jimin replied casually, leaning over to adjust the air conditioning as though they weren’t in a life-or-death situation.

Y/N shot her an incredulous look. “And you’re this calm about it?”

Jimin grinned. “What can I say? Occupational hazard.”

One of the SUVs pulled up alongside them, and the passenger leaned out of the window with something metallic glinting in his hand.

“Is that—oh my god, he’s got a gun!” Y/N yelped, jerking the wheel so hard the car veered onto the shoulder.

“Yeah, they tend to carry those,” Jimin said dryly, her hand gripping the edge of her seat as the car bounced over uneven terrain.

The SUV swerved to follow them, its tires kicking up a cloud of dust. Jimin’s grin widened as she glanced at the driver. “You know, for someone who claimed they couldn’t drive under pressure, you’re doing pretty well.”

“Don’t jinx it!” Y/N snapped, her eyes wild.

Ahead, the road split into two uneven paths: one wide and flat, the other narrow and riddled with sharp turns.

“Which way?!” Y/N screamed.

Jimin tilted her head, as if considering. “The fun one.”

Y/N groaned but swerved onto the narrower path, the car nearly tipping as it rounded the first bend. The pursuing SUVs hesitated, their bulkier frames struggling to keep up.

“See?” Jimin said smugly. “Told you this was better.”

“Better?!” Y/N shrieked as the car clipped a low-hanging branch, the windshield cracking slightly.

Behind them, one of the SUVs tried to make the same sharp turn but skidded off the road, crashing into a ditch.

“One down,” Jimin said, her voice tinged with amusement.

The remaining SUV was relentless, its engine roaring as it closed the gap between them. Y/N’s knuckles were turning an alarming shade of white as she gripped the wheel, her teeth gritted in concentration.

“I’m going to die,” she muttered under her breath. “This is it. I’m going to die in a car chase with a mafia boss.”

“You’re not going to die,” Jimin said, rolling her eyes. “But if you don’t stop panicking, you might get us killed.”

“Wow, great pep talk!”

“Just keep driving,” Jimin said, her voice suddenly sharper.

Up ahead, the narrow road gave way to an old wooden bridge that looked like it had seen better centuries.

“Uh, Jimin? That bridge doesn’t look—”

“Drive faster,” Jimin cut her off, her tone firm.

“What?!”

“Just trust me. Floor it.”

Y/N hesitated for a split second before slamming her foot on the gas. The car surged forward, the engine protesting loudly. The bridge groaned ominously as they sped across it, wooden planks splintering beneath the tires.

The SUV behind them wasn’t so lucky. As it barreled onto the bridge, the structure gave way with a deafening crack, sending the vehicle plummeting into the ravine below.

Y/N barely managed to stop the car on the other side, her heart hammering in her chest. She sat frozen, her hands still gripping the wheel like a lifeline.

Jimin, on the other hand, looked utterly unbothered. “See? Told you it would work.”

Y/N turned to her, her face a mixture of disbelief and fury. “That was your plan? To trust a hundred-year-old bridge not to kill us?!”

Jimin shrugged. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Y/N let out a strangled scream and buried her face in her hands. “I hate this. I hate this so much.”

Jimin reached over and patted her shoulder, her tone almost soothing. “Cheer up, kidnapper. You just survived your first car chase. I’d say that’s cause for celebration.”

Y/N groaned loudly, but despite herself, she couldn’t help the small, shaky laugh that escaped her.

“You’re either incredibly lucky or the worst driver alive,” Jimin added with a grin.

Y/N glared at her. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Barely.”

Jimin leaned back in her seat, her smirk never fading. “You should. You’re still alive, after all.”

For the first time that night, Y/N allowed herself to breathe, the adrenaline slowly draining from her system. But as she glanced at Jimin, lounging like she hadn’t just risked both their lives, she couldn’t help but think one thing:

How is this my life now?

The safe house was little more than a wooden cabin nestled in a dense thicket of trees. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, dappling the ground with patches of gold. Y/N stood on the porch, arms crossed, glaring at Jimin, who was meticulously inspecting a handgun like she was choosing a new accessory.

“This,” Jimin said, holding up the gun, “is what’s going to keep you alive if we run into trouble again.”

Y/N snorted. “Or, hear me out, I could just avoid trouble altogether.”

Jimin raised an eyebrow. “Sure, because that’s worked out so well for you so far.”

Y/N opened her mouth to retort but couldn’t argue with that point. She sighed dramatically, throwing her hands up. “Fine. Teach me. But I’m telling you right now, I’m not exactly action-hero material.”

Jimin smirked. “Oh, trust me, I’ve noticed.” She handed the gun to Y/N, who held it like it might explode in her hands.

“Why is it so heavy?” Y/N complained, staring at it like it was an alien artifact.

“It’s a gun, not a plastic toy,” Jimin said, her tone dry. She stepped behind Y/N, adjusting her grip on the weapon. “Okay, first rule: keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to shoot.”

Y/N nodded, her finger twitching dangerously close to the trigger.

“Off. The. Trigger,” Jimin repeated, her voice sharp.

“Oh, right. Sorry,” Y/N muttered, quickly removing her finger.

Jimin sighed, stepping even closer. She reached around Y/N, her hands guiding Y/N’s to the proper stance. Y/N froze, hyper-aware of Jimin’s proximity.

“Relax,” Jimin murmured, her breath warm against Y/N’s ear. “You’re holding the gun like it’s a bouquet of flowers. Be firm.”

Y/N gulped, trying to focus on anything other than the fact that Jimin’s hands were practically wrapped around hers. “Firm. Got it.”

“Now,” Jimin continued, “aim down the sights. See that tree over there?” She nodded toward a thick oak about twenty yards away.

“Yeah,” Y/N said hesitantly.

“Shoot it.”

“Wait, what?”

“Shoot the tree.”

Y/N hesitated, squinting down the sights. She took a deep breath and pulled the trigger.

The gun kicked back with surprising force, and Y/N yelped, stumbling backward into Jimin. The bullet went wide, missing the tree entirely and hitting the dirt several feet away.

“Holy—” Y/N exclaimed, her ears ringing. “Why didn’t you warn me it would do that?!”

Jimin was laughing so hard she had to lean against the porch railing for support. “You—your face! I can’t—”

“This isn’t funny!” Y/N snapped, her cheeks burning.

“It’s hilarious,” Jimin said between fits of laughter. “You almost shot your own foot!”

Y/N glared at her. “Maybe I should shoot your foot.”

Jimin smirked, straightening up. “If you could aim, maybe I’d be worried.”

Y/N groaned, thrusting the gun back at her. “This is pointless. I’m clearly not cut out for this.”

Jimin shook her head, her expression softening slightly. “You’re not bad for a beginner. You just need practice.”

“Beginner? I kidnapped you by accident!” Y/N retorted.

“And yet here we are,” Jimin said with a smirk. “You’re not as hopeless as you think, Y/N.”

The unexpected sincerity in her tone caught Y/N off guard. She glanced at Jimin, who was casually inspecting the gun again, as if she hadn’t just paid her a compliment.

“Okay, fine,” Y/N said reluctantly. “One more try.”

Jimin handed the gun back with a grin. “Atta girl. Let’s see if you can hit something this time.”

Y/N took her stance again, this time determined not to make a fool of herself. She focused, aimed, and fired.

The bullet nicked the edge of the tree, sending a small spray of bark flying. Y/N turned to Jimin, her face lighting up with excitement. “Did you see that? I hit it!”

“Barely,” Jimin teased, but there was a glint of approval in her eyes.

“Progress is progress,” Y/N said smugly, puffing out her chest.

Jimin chuckled, shaking her head. “At this rate, you might actually survive the week.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. For the first time since this whole ordeal began, she felt a flicker of confidence—and maybe, just maybe, a flicker of something else whenever Jimin looked at her like that.

The small-town grocery store was quaint, with neatly arranged shelves and soft music playing overhead. Y/N trailed behind Jimin, clutching a shopping basket filled with instant ramen and an assortment of snacks she had hastily grabbed. She felt out of place amidst the mundanity of the store, especially with Jimin confidently striding ahead like she owned the place.

“Why are we even shopping?” Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible over the faint hum of the refrigerators.

“Because,” Jimin replied without looking back, “a mafia boss can’t survive on gas station chips alone. I have standards.”

Y/N huffed but kept following. It wasn’t like she had a choice.

As they reached the frozen foods section, Y/N’s gaze wandered, and she froze mid-step. Near the entrance, two men in dark suits were browsing the produce aisle. Their stiff postures and sharp looks screamed “mob enforcers” to her. Her heart rate spiked.

“Uh, Jimin,” she hissed, grabbing her arm.

Jimin turned, holding a pint of pistachio ice cream. “What?”

“Those guys,” Y/N whispered, tilting her head toward the men. “They’re definitely here for us.”

Jimin followed her gaze, her expression unchanging. “Relax,” she said, turning back to the ice cream freezer. “They’re not here for you.”

Y/N blinked. “How do you know that?”

“Because they’re not mine,” Jimin replied casually, tossing the ice cream into the basket.

“That doesn’t make me feel better!” Y/N said, her voice rising slightly.

“Shh,” Jimin chided, gesturing for her to lower her voice. “If they were here for you, trust me, you wouldn’t even know they were here.”

“That’s supposed to be comforting?” Y/N demanded, but Jimin was already walking toward the checkout line, completely unbothered.

Unable to shake the feeling of being watched, Y/N kept her head down as she hurried to catch up. She stuck close to Jimin, clutching the basket like a lifeline.

Outside the store, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the parking lot. Y/N took a deep breath, relieved to be out of the store and away from the men in suits.

“See?” Jimin said, unlocking the car with a click. “No one cares about you, Y/N.”

Y/N glared at her. “You have the worst way of comforting people.”

Jimin smirked, opening the trunk to place their groceries inside. “You’re welcome.”

Before Y/N could retort, a commotion erupted near the corner of the parking lot. A group of men, shouting angrily, had gathered near a beat-up sedan. One of them shoved another, and it quickly escalated into a full-blown argument.

Y/N instinctively took a step back. “Uh, what’s happening?”

Jimin glanced over, her expression darkening. “Rival gang,” she said, her tone clipped.

“Are you serious?” Y/N whispered, her panic rising again.

“Stay here,” Jimin ordered, already stepping toward the scene.

“Wait, what? No! Don’t—” Y/N started, but Jimin was already halfway there.

Y/N watched as Jimin approached the group with the kind of confidence only someone with her background could muster. The shouting died down as the men noticed her. She said something Y/N couldn’t hear, but the tension in the air was palpable.

Y/N’s nerves were shot. She ducked behind the car, peeking over the hood to keep an eye on Jimin.

Suddenly, one of the men gestured aggressively toward Jimin, and before Y/N knew it, he pulled out a weapon.

Her stomach dropped. Without thinking, Y/N darted out from behind the car. “Jimin, look out!”

The man’s focus shifted to Y/N for a split second—a mistake that gave Jimin’s men, who had been shadowing them unnoticed, the opening they needed. In a matter of seconds, the situation was under control.

Jimin turned to Y/N, her expression unreadable. “What the hell are you doing?” she asked, striding toward her.

Y/N stumbled back, her adrenaline wearing off. “I—I thought you needed help.”

Jimin sighed, placing her hands on Y/N’s shoulders. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thank you?” Y/N said weakly.

“That wasn’t a compliment,” Jimin said, though there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes.

As they walked back to the car, Jimin’s men cleaned up the mess behind them. Y/N glanced at Jimin, who seemed completely unfazed by what had just happened.

“You’re insane, you know that?” Y/N muttered, climbing into the car.

Jimin chuckled, sliding into the driver’s seat. “And you’re fragile. But,” she added, glancing at Y/N with a small smirk, “thanks for caring.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity beneath the teasing. She looked away, her cheeks warming.

“Whatever,” she mumbled, but the hint of a smile on her face didn’t go unnoticed.

The rundown cabin creaked with every slight breeze, its weathered wooden panels making it feel more like a relic than a refuge. Y/N paced the small living area, muttering to herself as Jimin lounged on the rickety couch, legs crossed, looking entirely too comfortable for someone who’s being hunted by another mafia

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Y/N said, running a hand through her hair. “Why are you so... so calm about all this? Why are you still acting as if you couldn’t leave at any moment?”

Jimin smirked, tilting her head as if Y/N had just asked the most obvious question in the world. “Maybe I’m just waiting for the right moment to take over.”

Y/N froze mid-step, turning to glare at Jimin. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jimin shrugged, the smirk widening. “Maybe I’m just letting you tire yourself out, running around like a headless chicken. When the time comes, I’ll strike.”

“You’re bluffing,” Y/N said, though her voice wavered slightly.

“Am I?” Jimin leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. The glint in her eyes was both playful and mischievous.

Y/N swallowed hard. “Well, we’ll see about that,” she muttered, marching toward the cabin door.

The next hour turned into a chaotic game of cat-and-mouse. Y/N, determined to keep Jimin from pulling any tricks, began “fortifying” the cabin. She locked every door and window, stacking random furniture against entryways and fashioning makeshift traps out of whatever she could find.

“Are you seriously barricading me in?” Jimin called from the couch, watching Y/N pile chairs against the front door.

“You’re not taking over anything on my watch,” Y/N retorted, dragging a heavy cabinet toward the back door.

Jimin chuckled, standing up and effortlessly unlocking the window Y/N had just secured. “You know, for someone who kidnapped me, you’re really bad at containment.”

Y/N spun around. “Hey! I just locked that!”

“Oops.” Jimin gave her an innocent look, slowly closing the now-unlocked window.

Y/N groaned, throwing her hands in the air. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re adorable when you’re frustrated,” Jimin quipped, dodging a throw pillow Y/N hurled at her.

After the so-called fortification, Y/N decided chores were a safer distraction. She swept the dusty floors while Jimin, much to her own amusement, insisted on helping.

“Fine,” Y/N sighed, handing Jimin a dish towel. “You can dry the dishes. Think you can handle that without breaking anything?”

Jimin gave an exaggerated gasp. “Wow. Such faith in me, Y/N. I’m touched.”

It took less than two minutes for her to shatter a glass plate.

“Are you serious?” Y/N asked, staring at the shards on the floor.

“It slipped,” Jimin said, looking entirely unbothered as she picked up the larger pieces. “I’ll deduct it from your kidnapping ransom.”

“Ransom?” Y/N’s voice rose an octave. “There is no ransom! That’s not how this works!”

Jimin smiled sweetly. “Oh, I know. But it’s fun to watch you freak out.”

Y/N groaned, returning to sweeping.

Later, Jimin volunteered to make toast for a snack. Y/N hesitantly agreed, keeping a watchful eye as Jimin fiddled with the toaster.

“Jimin, it��s not that complicated,” Y/N said when Jimin kept inspecting the buttons like she was defusing a bomb.

“Let me work my magic,” Jimin replied confidently.

Moments later, smoke began billowing from the toaster.

“Magic, huh?” Y/N coughed, fanning the air with her hand. “What did you do?”

Jimin pulled out two charred slices of bread, holding them up like trophies. “I call it ‘Mafia Blackened Toast.’ It’s a delicacy.”

Y/N snorted despite herself, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

Jimin grinned. “You’re laughing. That’s progress.”

The final straw came when Jimin somehow managed to lock herself in the bathroom.

“Y/N!” she called through the door, her voice a mix of annoyance and amusement.

“What now?” Y/N shouted back, approaching the bathroom.

“I think the lock’s broken.”

Y/N stared at the door. “How did you even manage that? It’s a basic latch!”

“Talent,” Jimin said, deadpan.

Y/N sighed, grabbing a bobby pin and working the lock open. When the door finally swung ajar, Jimin stood there, looking sheepish.

“Thanks, kidnapper,” she said with a wink.

Y/N couldn’t help it—she laughed.

Jimin leaned against the doorframe, watching her. “See? I told you I’d grow on you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re lucky you’re funny.”

Jimin grinned. “And lucky I’m charming.”

“Don’t push it,” Y/N said, brushing past her.

But as Jimin followed, humming a little tune, Y/N couldn’t shake the warmth blooming in her chest. Maybe this whole accidental kidnapping wasn’t entirely terrible.

The lake near the cabin shimmered under the fading sunlight, its surface reflecting hues of gold and amber. Y/N leaned against a tree, staring out at the water as Jimin skipped stones effortlessly, each one gliding across the surface with perfect precision.

“Of course, you’re good at this too,” Y/N muttered, crossing her arms.

Jimin glanced back at her, smirking. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, kidnapper. Want me to teach you?”

Y/N snorted. “No, thanks. I’ll leave the stone-skipping expertise to you, your majesty.”

Jimin chuckled and threw another stone, watching it bounce five times before sinking. “Suit yourself.”

The quiet between them wasn’t awkward—just the kind of calm that sneaks in when two people have been through too much together to need constant conversation. Y/N fiddled with a loose thread on her shirt, glancing at Jimin when she thought she wouldn’t notice.

It was annoying, really. The way Jimin’s hair caught the light. The way her smirk softened when she thought no one was looking. The way she made Y/N’s heart race for absolutely no good reason.

“Why are you so quiet all of a sudden?” Jimin asked, breaking the silence. She turned around, raising an eyebrow at Y/N. “Plotting your next terrible kidnapping strategy?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Not a chance.” Jimin grinned, brushing her hands on her jeans before walking over. “Come on. You’re not sulking, are you?”

“I’m not sulking!” Y/N snapped, a bit too quickly.

Jimin leaned closer, narrowing her eyes. “You sure about that?”

Y/N sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’m just... thinking.”

“Dangerous territory for you,” Jimin teased, sitting down beside her.

“Do you always have to be such a pain?” Y/N muttered, though her tone lacked any real bite.

“It’s one of my many charms.” Jimin flashed her a dazzling smile before leaning back on her hands, looking at Y/N out of the corner of her eye. “So, what’s got you so deep in thought?”

Y/N hesitated, debating whether to play it off with sarcasm or just say what was on her mind. Against her better judgment, the words spilled out before she could stop them.

“I... I kind of enjoy this. Being around you, I mean.”

The confession hung in the air, and Y/N immediately regretted it. Her cheeks burned, and she avoided Jimin’s gaze, suddenly very interested in the pattern of the dirt at her feet.

There was a beat of silence, then: “Wait, what?”

Y/N groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Forget I said anything.”

“Oh, no way.” Jimin’s voice was laced with amusement as she scooted closer. “Did you just admit you like my company?”

“No!” Y/N shot back, face still hidden. “I mean—maybe. I don’t know! Forget it!”

Jimin laughed, the sound warm and uncharacteristically soft. “This is gold. Are you falling for your hostage, Y/N?”

Y/N finally looked up, glaring at her. “Could you not?”

But the glare didn’t land, not with the way her face was flushed and her expression was more flustered than intimidating.

Jimin’s teasing smirk faltered for a moment as she saw the genuine embarrassment in Y/N’s eyes. Her voice softened. “Hey, relax. I’m just messing with you.”

Y/N huffed, looking away. “You’re impossible.”

“I know,” Jimin said, nudging her shoulder. “But for what it’s worth... I like you too.”

Y/N froze, whipping her head around to stare at her. “You—you do?”

“Obviously,” Jimin said, the smirk returning. “Why else would I stick around with the world’s most incompetent kidnapper?”

Y/N blinked, processing the words before shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably charming, you mean.”

Y/N laughed despite herself, leaning back against the tree with a sigh. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I could say the same about you,” Jimin replied, her voice softer now. She glanced at Y/N, a flicker of something more serious in her gaze. “Thanks for... being you.”

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat but managed to play it off with a laugh. “Don’t get all mushy on me now.”

Jimin grinned, picking up a stone and tossing it into the water. “Wouldn’t dream of it, kidnapper.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the lake in hues of orange and pink, the two sat in comfortable silence. For once, neither was running, hiding, or panicking. It was just them, and that was enough.

Y/N sat cross-legged on the creaky floor of the rundown cabin, her phone balanced precariously on her knee. The screen was filled with a YouTube tutorial titled “How to Build a Fire Without Burning Down the House.”

“Step one,” Y/N muttered to herself, “gather dry wood.” She glanced out the window where Jimin had wandered off into the woods, promising to find firewood. Y/N still wasn’t sure why Jimin insisted on making this place “cozy,” but it was a rare moment of normalcy. Well, as normal as things could get with your accidentally kidnapped mafia boss.

She glanced at the clock on her phone. Jimin had been gone longer than expected.

Before she could worry too much, the cabin door burst open with a deafening crack.

Y/N froze, her phone clattering to the floor as several men in dark suits stormed inside. Their cold glares swept over the room before locking onto her.

“Where’s Jimin?” one of them demanded, his voice sharp and dangerous.

Y/N’s mind raced, heart pounding in her chest. What the hell?

“Uh…” She looked around frantically, as if Jimin might magically appear. “She’s, um, not here?”

The man stepped closer, clearly unimpressed with her answer. “We know she’s been hiding out with you. Where is she?”

“Out getting firewood?” Y/N blurted, immediately regretting her honesty.

The men exchanged glances before one of them grabbed her arm. “Let’s go.”

“Wait, hold on! I can’t leave—I was about to start a fire!” Y/N protested, struggling as they dragged her toward the door. “This is illegal, you know! Kidnapping is illegal!”

One of the men smirked. “You’d be surprised what we get away with.”

The room was dimly lit, with bare concrete walls and a single flickering bulb overhead. Y/N sat tied to a chair in the center, her wrists bound tightly with scratchy rope. Around her loomed several intimidating figures, their eyes cold and unrelenting. Leading the pack was Han, the rival boss—tall, sharply dressed, and annoyingly smug.

Han leaned casually against the table in front of her, studying her with a faint smile that sent shivers down Y/N’s spine. Not because he was intimidating, but because of the unsettling mix of curiosity and amusement in his gaze.

“So,” Han began, his voice smooth and almost friendly, “we meet again, Y/N.”

Y/N glared at him, trying to suppress her nerves. “Yeah, hi. Nice to see you too. Could you maybe not tie me up next time?”

Han chuckled, brushing an invisible speck of lint off his sleeve. “That depends. Will you stop harboring my rival?”

“I’m not harboring her!” Y/N snapped. “This whole thing is a misunderstanding!”

“Sure it is.” Han leaned in slightly, his smile widening. “You know, I’ve been thinking about you since our little diner encounter. You’re quite... captivating.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “Captivating?”

Han nodded. “It’s not every day someone manages to kidnap Yu Jimin and live to tell the tale. I find that intriguing.”

“Great. Maybe write a book about it and let me go?”

Han laughed softly, ignoring her sarcasm. “You’re bold, I’ll give you that.” He gestured to one of his men. “Let’s try this again. Where is Jimin?”

Y/N’s heart pounded as the burly man approached, his expression menacing. “I don’t know!” she blurted. “She doesn’t tell me anything! I’m just—” She hesitated, realizing the truth wouldn’t exactly help her case. “—an innocent bystander!”

Han raised an eyebrow, his skepticism clear. “Innocent? You were practically glued to her side at that diner. Don’t play coy, Y/N. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Okay, first of all, rude,” Y/N shot back. “Second, if I knew where she was, do you think I’d be here?”

Han tilted his head thoughtfully. “Fair point. But you must know something.”

Y/N hesitated, wracking her brain for anything that might satisfy him without throwing Jimin under the bus. “Uh... she likes espresso?”

Han’s smile twitched.

“She hates bad Wi-Fi?” Y/N continued weakly.

One of Han’s men snorted before quickly disguising it as a cough.

“Enough games.” Han’s voice dropped, and his eyes darkened. He stepped closer, his proximity making Y/N’s stomach churn with unease. “Tell me where she is, or things will get... unpleasant.”

Y/N stared back at him, her heart hammering. She didn’t have a plan, and she definitely didn’t have the information he wanted. “I don’t know where she is!” she insisted. “She left me at the cabin to get firewood, and then you showed up!”

Han’s smile returned, softer this time but no less unsettling. “You know, you’re quite charming when you’re flustered.”

Y/N gaped at him. “What?”

“Relax,” Han said, straightening up. “We’re not going to hurt you. Yet.” He turned to his men. “Keep her comfortable. I need to make some calls.”

“Comfortable?” Y/N echoed as Han began to walk away. “I’m tied to a chair in a dungeon!”

Han glanced back over his shoulder, a smirk playing on his lips. “Some people pay good money for that experience.”

Y/N groaned, slumping against her restraints. “Jimin, if you don’t show up soon, I swear I’ll haunt you if I die.”

Jimin trudged through the woods, her arms full of firewood. She’d been taking her time, enjoying the peace and quiet, when she noticed the cabin door wide open.

Her brow furrowed as she stepped inside, instantly taking in the signs of a struggle—the overturned chair, the broken lamp, and the distinct lack of one panicked kidnapper.

“Y/N?” she called, dropping the firewood. Silence greeted her.

Jimin’s jaw tightened, her calm demeanor slipping as worry took hold. She pulled out her phone, dialing a number. “Get everyone together,” she barked when the line connected. “We’ve got a problem.”

Han came back to the room, regarding Y/N with that maddening smirk, as though the entire ordeal was just a game to him. “You’re quite the enigma, you know,” he said, his tone almost conversational.

Y/N glared at him, hiding her fear behind a wall of sarcasm. “And you’re quite the creep. Can we skip to the part where you untie me and let me go?”

Han chuckled, pushing off the table and stepping closer. “You’ve got spirit. I like that.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Fantastic. Add it to my Yelp review after this is over.”

His smile widened as he crouched in front of her, his gaze piercing. “You’re bold. But I wonder... is that bravery, or are you just pretending not to be terrified?”

Y/N swallowed hard, refusing to let him see how much his words unsettled her. “Why don’t you untie me and find out?”

Han’s eyes glimmered with amusement. “Tempting.” He stood, turning to his men. “I’ll as you one last time. Where is Jimin?”

Y/N pressed her lips together, weighing her options. She didn’t know where Jimin was right now, but she couldn’t exactly say that without giving away too much. “She’s... she’s not coming for me,” she blurted.

Han arched an eyebrow. “Oh? That’s interesting, considering how quickly she showed up the last time you were in danger.”

“I’m just some random nobody,” Y/N said, trying to sound convincing. “Why would she risk herself for me?”

Han studied her for a moment, then leaned back against the table. “You know, Y/N, I almost believe you. Almost.”

He reached into his jacket, pulling out a sleek, black pistol. The sight of it made Y/N’s stomach drop.

Han twirled the gun lazily in his hand, his eyes never leaving hers. “Here’s the thing. Jimin has a soft spot for lost causes. It’s one of her flaws. So, either you’re lying to protect her, or she’s already on her way.” He pointed the gun at her, his voice dropping to a chilling calm. “Let’s find out which.”

Y/N froze, her pulse thundering in her ears. Her bravado cracked under the weight of the cold barrel aimed at her chest. “W-wait!” she stammered. “You don’t have to do this!”

“Relax,” Han said, smiling faintly. “I’m just testing a theory.”

Before he could say another word, the door to the hideout slammed open. The loud crack echoed through the room, and everyone turned to see Jimin standing in the doorway, flanked by her men. Her sharp suit was pristine, her expression cold as ice.

“Drop it, Han,” she said, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

Han’s smirk returned as he turned toward her. “Right on time, as always, Jimin.”

Jimin’s eyes flicked to Y/N, tied up and terrified, and her jaw tightened. “Let her go.”

Han tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Why so serious? We were just having a friendly chat.”

“Funny,” Jimin said, taking a step forward. “From where I’m standing, it looks like you’re holding a gun to her chest.”

Han’s smile turned predatory as he shifted his aim, pressing the barrel to Y/N’s temple. Y/N gasped, her eyes wide with fear.

“Careful, Jimin,” Han warned. “One wrong move, and this could get messy.”

Jimin’s expression didn’t waver, but her hands curled into fists at her sides. “You’re making a mistake, Han.”

“And you’re predictable,” Han countered. “Always so quick to play the hero. Tell me, Jimin, what’s this girl to you? A pawn? A distraction?”

Jimin’s gaze darkened, her voice dropping to a dangerous calm. “She’s mine.”

Han chuckled, amused by her response. “Yours, huh? Well, then, I suppose this is personal.”

The room seemed to hold its breath as the standoff stretched. Then, in a flash, Jimin moved. She lunged forward with a speed that left Han’s men scrambling. Her hand struck the gun, knocking it away just as it fired, the deafening crack echoing through the space.

Y/N screamed, flinching as the bullet lodged harmlessly into the wall behind her.

Jimin didn’t stop. She delivered a swift, brutal punch to Han’s jaw, sending him reeling. The room erupted into chaos as her men stormed in, engaging Han’s goons in a flurry of fists and shouts.

Y/N struggled against her bonds, panic and adrenaline coursing through her veins. Jimin, mid-fight, caught sight of her and called out, “Hold on! I’m coming!”

In one fluid motion, Jimin grabbed a discarded knife and sliced through the ropes binding Y/N. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice tight with concern.

Y/N nodded shakily. “Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”

Jimin grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the exit as the fight continued to rage behind them.

Outside, the cool night air hit them like a slap. Y/N leaned against the side of a car, trying to catch her breath.

“That was... intense,” she managed, her voice trembling.

Jimin placed a hand on her shoulder, her expression softening for the first time. “You’re safe now.”

Y/N looked up at her, her heart still racing. “You came for me.”

“Of course I did,” Jimin said, her tone almost offended. “Nobody touches my kidnapper but me.”

Y/N huffed a laugh, tears prickling her eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re reckless,” Jimin countered, her lips curving into a faint smirk. “But... I’m glad you’re okay.”

The moment hung between them, charged with unspoken tension, until Jimin finally pulled away, her cool facade slipping back into place.

“Come on,” she said, helping Y/N into the car. “Let’s get out of here before Han decides to get back up.”

As they sped away, Y/N couldn’t help but glance at Jimin, her heart tugging in a way she wasn’t ready to admit.

The apartment was a mess, as always. Y/N’s shoes were haphazardly kicked off by the door, her jacket draped over the back of a chair, and the lingering smell of half-eaten takeout filled the space. Jimin, however, didn’t seem to mind. She leaned casually against the wall, her suit slightly disheveled from the evening’s chaos but still managing to look effortlessly put together.

Y/N paced back and forth in the small living room, her nerves still frayed. “What were you thinking?” she demanded, pointing a finger at Jimin. “You could’ve been killed back there!”

Jimin arched an eyebrow, her arms crossed over her chest. “I wasn’t the one tied to a chair, sweetie.”

“That’s not the point!” Y/N snapped, spinning to face her. “You didn’t have to risk yourself like that. You should’ve just—just let me handle it!”

Jimin’s smirk deepened, amusement flickering in her eyes. “Handle it? You mean when you were about to get shot? Great plan, Y/N. Truly inspiring.”

Y/N groaned, running a hand through her hair. “I mean it, Jimin. You don’t get to just... swoop in and play hero like that. I’m not—” She faltered, her voice softening. “I’m not worth losing yourself over.”

Jimin pushed off the wall, her expression shifting to something softer, more serious. “Don’t say that.”

Y/N looked away, her arms wrapping around herself. “Why not? It’s true. I’m just some random nobody who accidentally kidnapped you. You could’ve walked away at any time, but instead, you’re... you’re doing all this. Why?”

Jimin stepped closer, her heels clicking softly against the worn floorboards. “You’re not nobody,” she said quietly, her voice carrying a rare sincerity.

Y/N’s breath caught as Jimin reached out, gently tilting her chin up so their eyes met. “I don’t care how we started. What matters is where we are now,” Jimin continued, her gaze intense. “And right now, you’re the only thing I care about.”

The weight of her words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of them moved. Then, as if drawn by some unspoken pull, Jimin leaned in and kissed her.

It was tender at first, a soft brush of lips that sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine. But it quickly deepened, Jimin’s hands sliding to Y/N’s waist as she pulled her closer. Y/N’s heart raced, her hands tentatively finding their way to Jimin’s shoulders.

When they finally broke apart, both of them breathless, Jimin smirked down at her. “So,” she murmured, her voice low and teasing, “still think you’re the one in charge here?”

Y/N blinked up at her, dazed. “I—what?”

Jimin chuckled, stepping back just enough to lean against the edge of the table. “You kidnapped me, remember? Isn’t the kidnapper supposed to be in charge?”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, a mix of embarrassment and exasperation. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here we are,” Jimin quipped, her smirk softening into a genuine smile.

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her. “Fine. You win.”

Jimin tilted her head, feigning surprise. “Oh, was there ever any doubt?”

Y/N groaned, but the warmth in her chest betrayed her frustration. She shook her head and sighed. “Alright, Mafia Boss. What now?”

Jimin straightened, her smile taking on a mischievous edge. “Now? We figure out how to make this work.”

Y/N blinked. “This?”

“This,” Jimin repeated, gesturing between them. “You. Me. Us.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at the casual confidence in her words. “You’re serious?”

Jimin leaned in again, her smirk returning. “Do I look like someone who does things halfway?”

Y/N swallowed hard, a mix of excitement and terror bubbling in her chest. “You’re insane,” she muttered.

Jimin chuckled, her voice warm. “You’re not wrong.”

With that, she grabbed Y/N’s hand, pulling her toward the couch. “Come on, kidnapper. Let’s order takeout and figure out what the hell we’re doing.”

Y/N let herself be pulled along, a smile creeping onto her face despite herself. Maybe, just maybe, she could handle a little insanity if it meant keeping Jimin around.

381 notes · View notes

inf3ct3dd · 4 months ago

Text

HARD WORK.

summary: your grandmas retirement to hawaii finally let you escape the annoying city life. but as it turns out, being a country girl aint easy work. luckily a hot stranger with a truck full of rakes and hoes has taken a liking to you.

gardener abby x black!oc

warnings: I AM A FREAK FOR GARDENER ABBY. little bit of creepy perv behavior, stalking, SEX

wc: 4.6k

authors note: heyyy guys miss u 😈 if anyone gaf i’ll post a part 2 cuz yk how i be… ts long as hell

abby noticed your presence about a week after you had moved.

she had recognized the yellow house, a familiar sight when she went on her drives to clear her head. it was certainly a sight for sore eyes. it was one of only three houses on the block, recognizable by the pale paint and the burnt orange front porch. she often wondered how the owners maintained it, as it was full of plants and trees. a big front yard with wildflowers, a cherry tree by the garage, and flower pots galore. its gorgeous. she also dreamed of what was behind the big door to the backyard, but she could see the faint sight of green trees from the top of it. its a beautiful house, no doubt. and the foliage was always kept perfect. bushes trimmed, lawn mowed, and the trees left the perfect shade for the summer time. she’d love to work there, but it seemed that the owners had it under control.

until you moved in.

after a while, she noticed the lawn becoming slightly overgrown, the bushes losing their shape, and the tree was dropping cherries all over the adorable pink slug bug in the driveway. she had taken that the original owners had moved out, but she had no idea who had replaced them. and clearly, that replacement had no idea how to tend to that house.

and then, she finally caught sight of you.

it was around about 3:30, if she remembered correctly. give or take five minutes. she was on her usual drive, exhausted and irritated from having to tell a woman that her grass would take at least a month to grow back from its butchered state. a bad raccoon problem left the entire yard torn, holes and dead yellow grass everywhere. but she had that off her mind now. she turned on her car stereo, old dad rock silencing her thoughts as she drove. the road you have to take to drive by the house is basically inside the forest. big, green trees on each side, a bumpy gravel road, and big hills. it was always a smooth ride, and the cool breeze from her window was a relief after sweating for 5 hours straight. she always hung her left arm out of the window, so much so that its slightly tanner than the other.

when she finally got to the house, she forgot everything she was thinking about. she even forgot where she was for a moment, making her stop the car.

she finally caught gaze of .. you. bent over the grass, seemingly trying to weed the garden. all she could see of you was your ass, and she wasn’t exactly complaining about the view. the denim shorts you were wearing left absolutely nothing to the imagination. along with the booty shorts, (the name very fitting), you had on a green spaghetti strap that clung to you like a wet suit. you had clearly been out there for a while, sweat pooling on the shirt and a drop sliding down the obvious cleavage in your shirt. she tried so hard to pull away, to leave you alone and not be a creep, but she couldn’t. it was like everything was moving in slow motion as she was eyeing you, and she slowly made her way up to your face after staring at your tits for an inappropriate amount of time. you had thick, black curls, that were pulled up haphazardly into a high ponytail. probably to get it out of your way while you worked. its clear you take advantage of how remote your house is, sitting in the yard looking like that. its unsafe, what if a weird freak comes over and stares at you from his truck?

abby quickly realized that she was the weird freak in question. even with the headphones in your ears, you noticed the presence behind you. you felt the rumbling of the truck through the ground, given the fact you were barefoot. you turned around to look at her, moving a curl out of your eyes and behind your ear. you raised a brow at the truck, confused. you couldn’t make out the person inside, with your glasses resting on the porch. you squinted and saw a rough image of some..blond person? you stared for a while longer, almost considering walking up to them . what’re they looking at? were you that bad at gardening?

abby was frozen the second you turned around. she definitely stared longer than she should have, not even noticing that you were staring as well. you had a confused look on your face as you squinted over at her. it was almost as if you couldn’t see her. when she thought the two of you made eye contact, she instantly started driving away. she tried to pull away slowly, to not be suspicious, but she zoomed down the road like a derby horse.

fuck. did she see me?

almost as soon as you saw the car, it drove away. they must’ve noticed you caught them and got embarrassed. who is that? you had seen a blob that sort of looked like blonde hair, but not much else. it was hard to discern anything from that, so you focused on what you did see. you felt like you had seen the car before, but then again, so many people have black pickup trucks around here. and its not like it had any significant details you’d remember it by, it was just a plain truck. not even a funny bumper sticker or something! its like the exact opposite of your car, the back of your beetle is covered in cute stickers, and you even got heart shaped rims. their car was different. it was so…rugged. whoever it is probably does some sort of hard job, like construction or something.

you shrugged off the whole thing, getting a bit too sweaty for your liking and heading inside. you wondered to yourself if they’d stop by again, maybe you should keep an eye on your window!

while you were pondering over who the mysterious figure in the truck was, the figure herself was freaking out. she couldn’t stop imagining you on that lawn, seeing your confused face and glossy pout as you stared at her. did you even realize someone was looking at you? did you feel weird and scared now? was that the absolute most pervy thing she could’ve done?? and most importantly, would you notice if she did it again? she shook the thought as soon as it came. she was practically berating herself, mumbling “don’t be weird” under her breath. she tried to think about other things. the smell of the trees lining the road. the tree in your front yard. fuck, this is difficult.

eventually, she settled on thinking about your yard. she tried not to focus on the image of you bent over in front of it, and her behind you, and she slowly remembered something. you could not garden for shit. you had missed a bunch of huge strips mowing, the bushes were lopsided, and you were knee deep in weeds. it was obvious you had no idea what you were doing, and she knew it would be so easy to fix it.

“looks like you need some help.” she uttered from behind you on the front yard, and you turned around, puzzled.

“you think so?” you stared up at her, doe eyes nearly punching her in the chest. you were still sweaty, in the same tank top.

“yeah, you look hot. let me cool you off.” and with that, she grabbed at the bottom of the shirt. “can i”-

“abby. cut it out.” she pulled herself out of the daydream, realizing she had stopped her car once again. thankfully, the road was completely empty, so she kept driving. there wasn’t anything worth staring at over here, so she kept it pushing. freak.

she tried to push whatever happened earlier to the back of her mind all day. but its like she got hypnotized. she drove up to her house, and she stupidly expected to see you in her front yard. she went inside, and she wondered what the inside of your house looked like. does she have carpet? what color are her walls?

she quickly shut down the thought of “walls” as an…untasteful image appeared in her head. she took a shower, a near freezing one, and she imagined what type of showers you like. or if you were even a shower person, maybe you liked baths. you’d probably shriek if you stepped into the shower and it was the wrong temperature. she imagined you sitting on the edge of the tub, letting the water run over your fingers until it was justtt right. she imagined you sitting down in the tub, and - nothing. she didn’t imagine anything else.

she cooked herself some pasta for dinner, and sat down on her couch to eat. do you like spaghetti? she started thinking about that scene in the lady and the tramp, except you and her replaced the dogs. once again, she shut that down right after she started. she ate her food and threw her dishes in the sink, almost running to her bedroom. because she was tired. no other reason.

you had gotten a call from your grandma a little while after you went inside. you didn’t necessarily want to talk to anyone right now, but you owed it to her after she basically gave her house to you for free. she talked for what felt like forever, about her new house, the beach, everything. and after a million “really”s and “oh wow”s, she asked you to show her the house.

you showed her around the inside first, panning around the living room, kitchen, and all the rooms, she was very satisfied with how clean you kept the house. its easy to take care of when its just you making the messes, and not an aggravating messy roomate. you felt like a lonely housewife who’s husband left for war.

afterwards, you went out into the backyard. her smiling face turned into a confused grimace within seconds.

“honey, who did the lawn?” she asked, so much concern in her voice you’d assume she just walked in on a crime scene.

“i did! doesn’t it look good?” you chimed, confused on why she sounds like you’ve just killed a man.

“…no. it looks like a hot mess. you missed like, three spots! and lord, what did you do to my bushes?” she let out a loud sigh.

“…i trimmed them?” your pride was wiped off your face, a small frown replacing it.

“i don’t even wanna see the front. you know what, you need to find a gardener. someone. as long as its not you. ill pay for it myself, just…don’t touch anything.”

“at least my plants aren’t dead and the grass is still green.” she mumbled under her breath, hanging up the phone.

where the hell are you gonna find a gardener?

with your spirits crushed, you sat with your computer and your glasses resting on your nose, “how to fix a messed up lawn” reflecting on the glass. r/lawncare said to leave it and let it re-grow before mowing it again, evenly. wait at least a week or two and keep watering it. but don’t touch it.

so, you decided to listen. the gardener hunt could wait till later, you were sleepy. you ended up dozing off on the couch watching chopped, and you had forgotten all about it by the morning.

abby however, can’t forget anything.

after a long, sleepless night, abby was running out of things to distract herself. why was she going borderline insane over some random girl? she’s seen hot girls before. were you a witch or something?

she went through her day with the same irritating questions going through her head. what does she listen to when she drives? what does she order at the coffee shop? whats her name?

she realized by the time she was on her lunch break she needed to answer at least one of her questions. she already knew where you lived, whats the harm in knowing your name?

she had slightly known your grandma, only the fact that they owned the farm that was down the road from the house. and that it was named after their last name. small town advantage, am i right?

after googling the last name, a facebook profile showed up. presumably exactly who she thought it was. she scrolled through pictures of her at the beach, on family vacation, unfunny memes,and a post that made her chuckle for a whole minute.

she knew she was in the right place now.

after scrolling for a while longer, she found exactly what she was looking for: a picture of you and the woman, your arm slung around her shoulder. you looked like you were at a wedding, all dolled up in a green satin dress with your hair down. you were wearing glasses, too.

“so she probably didn’t see me.”

you looked just as gorgeous as yesterday, and the picture was captioned “my beautiful granddaughter r ♥️💐😘🥰” and there was many more of her old lady friends and relatives calling you gorgeous. didn’t she know it.

she typed the name , your name, into facebook yet again, and there you were. the profile picture was of you as a baby, little black curls pulled into two pigtails as you grabbed at the camera with a cheesy smile. albeit, you only had two teeth, but it was definitely a smile. you’ve just always been cute, huh?

she looked down at the bio, and found everything else she needed to know. whos idea was it to make people give facebook all their personal information?

it was obvious this account was just for family, as it was mostly just reposts of your relatives posts and pictures she would deem “family friendly.” but the pictures were mostly of things other than you, like cats and pretty buildings you saw. it gave off the perfect, innocent impression to anyone who’d come across it.

but after finding your facebook, it didn’t take her much longer to find your instagram. and your tiktok. and your tumblr from when you were in highschool? maybe she was digging a little too deep.

your instagram wasn’t that stark of a contrast to your facebook. add a little more cleavage, and a much more active..social life, and it was basically the same. you hadn’t posted much with your friends in a while though, only stills of your plane and you relaxing in your new home. tough time making friends over here?

she snooped even more into your following, and at first there wasn’t anything really interesting. some music artists you liked, random cat accounts, and baking accounts. cute. but, after a while, she recognized something. the name of the place you worked at that she saw on your facebook. a veterinary office. the profile mostly had pictures of cats and dogs and some smaller animals, but when she saw a post about the offices pet fundraiser, she immediately recognized your face. cheesy smile, holding up a small kitten to your cheek. it was adorable.

she looked up the address in the account’s bio, and she saw that it was a 5 minute drive from her house. perfect coincidence. alice would love to take a walk after work today, wouldn’t she?

her snooping was interrupted by the alarm she had set for the end of her break. startled, she slightly jumped out of her seat before swinging her door open and plopping her phone in her back pocket. she knew what her plans for this afternoon were.

while abby was scheming up her stalkerish plans, you were just.. bored. you sat at the front desk, doodling one of the dogs you saw come in earlier with one earbud in your ear, fleetwood mac giving you soft background music to the emptiness of the lobby. with it being tuesday and all, it wasn’t very busy. your shift didn’t end for a few hours though, and you would rather be bored than busy.

you decided to people watch outside the window for a bit. you saw an old lady walking around with another old lady, holding coffee cups from the cafe down the street. they were engrossed in conversation, and you tried to lip read, but could only make up a few nonsensical words before they disappeared out of your view. a man walked by with his disgruntled teen daughter, headphones pulled over her ears with an annoyed grimace. once again, it looked like the father was saying something, but you had no idea what.

after a few more people walked past, you saw someone who actually…caught your eye. it was a tall blonde woman, hair weaved neatly into a braid that rested on her right shoulder. she had on a black tshirt that showed of her toned arms, and grey cargo pants with green grass stains on them. you tried to glance at her face, but she was facing the side. all you could really see was the outline of her curved nose, and the soft shape of her lips. her side profile looked perfectly carved, like a statue. she had on black over the ear headphones too, and she was holding a leash to a big german shepherd. shes hot, and she has a dog? you subconsciously started fixing your hair, just in case she was walking in here. she stopped near the door, and you nearly pounced to greet her. but your excitement was cut short when you saw her walk slightly further, and pull out a small stack of papers and a roll of tape. was she putting up fliers?

you watched her place one on the light post outside your building, holding the tape in her mouth as she did so. you tried hard not to drool all over your desk as you watched her. you couldnt make out what the paper said as she walked away, and you wasted no time going outside to see what it was.

and when you finally approached it, you felt as god himself was giving you an offering. the flier read "abby anderson gardening services.” there was a small graphic of a pretty flower, and an even more captivating image of the woman who had put up the flier. abby, that’s a sweet name.

you quickly ripped off one of the small pieces of paper on the bottom of the flier, placing it in your sweater pocket before skipping back into your work gleefully. a hot girl who was gonna save you from your gardening dilemma? somebody pinch you.

abby hadn’t had the smallest confidence her plan had worked. her heart was practically beating out of her chest, and the questions kept on pouring in. did she even see? will she even notice? what if she did see, and she recognized me as the freak who was ogling her outside her house? she planned all this perfectly. she spent 3 hours last night making those stupid fliers. scrolling through a million different fonts, searching through her camera roll for good pictures, she needed it to be as believable as possible. she had parked her truck well out of view a few blocks away, carried extra fliers, and brought alice with her to try and hide her true intentions. normal gardener walking her dog and putting up fliers, thats all she was. definitely not a weirdo that saw a girl pruning her front yard and got so hot and bothered that she devised a whole plan that would maybe get her to call her.

she shook her head, practically trying to shake away her thoughts, and she kept on walking.

you were telling yourself that you’d call her right when you got off work.

and after sitting on your bed for 5 minutes staring at her number typed into your phone, it was tomorrow.

and then tomorrow, it was the day after that.

the fear made absolutely no sense to you. you’re calling a gardener! whats the worst shes gonna say? ‘oh no, im not gardening for you because you’re stupid and also im going to run you over with my lawn mower.’ its her job to do this!! you had even saved her number in your phone as “hot gardener” so you wouldn’t forget her.

you were silently hoping that youd see her around somewhere. she’d approach you, start some dumb conversation, suddenly bring up the fact that shes a gardener, and then you get your “really? i’ve been looking for one!” moment. perfect meet cute.

but its like she vanished into thin air.

every time you went to work, or even out shopping, you were dolled up for no reason. wearing shirts with extra cleavage, making sure you have on lipgloss constantly, you were not taking any chances. even when you were doing the most mundane activities, you swiped on a layer of mascara before you left the house. just in case. but your luck wasn’t striking you at all. does she not live in the neighborhood?

abby definitely lived in the neighborhood. after checking her flier and seeing a missing phone number, she spent the whole night waiting for her phone to ring. she did anything and everything to try and keep her busy, which included cleaning her entire apartment and stalking your instagram. you had posted a picture of your cat on your story. cute.

after almost 5 hours of waiting around, she was pacing around her living room like a tiger in captivity. every notification she got she pounced at her phone, but she was continuously disappointed. no manny, i don’t want to go out tonight. dont ever text my phone again and also i hate you.

it was around 12:45 when her phone finally rang. she picked up instantly, barely letting it ring. she cleared her throat and tried to feign nonchalance in her voice. but instead of your sweet voice asking about her lawn, it was a telemarketer. she threw her phone on the couch and collapsed on her floor. it was gonna be a long night..

the next day, she knew she needed to check on you. what if something had happened? or, worse, what if you weren’t even the one who took the phone number? she came back the same way she did the first time she saw you, driving a liiiittle too slow past the vet office. and low and behold, you were perfectly fine. sat at the front desk talking to some girl with a cat. and when she looked at the flier, there was still only one slip missing. maybe you forgot?

she drove away, a childish pout on her face. it was pathetic , really.

when she was at the grocery store on the second day of waiting , that she definitely didn’t drive an extra five minutes to because it was close to you, she nearly had a heart attack when she saw you in the cereal aisle. cute hoodie and shorts on with your hair down. you seemed like you were having a hard time deciding between two cereals, holding the boxes next to each other and squinting. she imagined herself going up to you and delivering some smooth one liner about cereal that she was still trying to come up with, and carrying your groceries and you to your car. but as much as she wanted to, she kept her distance. heavily. she was looking around every five minutes like a shoplifter so she wouldn’t bump into you.

but not touching didn’t mean she couldn’t look. she saw you finally chuck the fruity pebbles into your basket, squeeze half the mangos on the display before picking one, and you last minute deciding to buy a pack of gum when you were checking out. she tried her hardest to not be jealous of the scrawny bag boy you smiled at, and when she finally saw you check out, she remembered she was supposed to be getting stuff for dinner. shit.

and the day after that, when she stopped at the gas station by your street because it was ‘cheaper’, she recognized your beetle in two seconds. she watched you step into the little mini market, clad in a pair of jean shorts and a random t shirt from a theme park , and she watched you walk out with a bag of hot cheetos as she pumped her gas. she had gotten a closer look at your bumper stickers, and she saw a small heart with a sunset flag. she couldn’t help but do a little fist pump when she got in her car.

none of her research was giving her any clarity though. she kept driving past her flier, day after day, and not a single other person had picked up a slip. was it even you who took it? are you gonna hire some other stupid gardener you found on your phone?

and on the third day, she had stayed home. she was beginning to give up hope you’d ever call, and she would never make a move first. especially if you had accidentally seen her on one of her little ventures. so, she cleaned her house again. she even dusted, thats how bored she was. the thoughts of you were constantly plaguing her. she almost took up mannys offer to go out tonight, try and get her mind off things.

but her mind stayed in the exact same place. her mind replayed the memory of you in the lawn yet again. she remembered the sweat dripping down your chest, the way your shorts were riding right up your thighs. she shoved her hand down her pants and imagined that they were yours.

she remembered how nice and smooth your voice sounded on the videos she saw. even though you never said much, even her imagining it made her even wetter. she kept rubbing her middle finger up and down her clit, picturing you whispering in her ear.

“you’re such a fucking creep. you keep watching me at work, following me around, and now you’re fucking yourself to me? we’ve never even met. you’re acting like a desperate slut for some random girl, you’re not embarrassed?”

the dialogue she was imagining in her head was getting her further and further. she almost imagined you saying it, the voice being strange and inconsistent to her. still, she moved faster, hearing the noise her slick covered fingers made as she moved. she kept letting out heavy breaths, flexing her hips upwards onto her hand.

“you know, you could’ve just come up to talk to me. how pathetic are you? can’t even talk to a girl?”

she imagined your breath on her neck, watching her. if she focused enough, she could feel the indent in her bed of you next to her. she started moving even faster, letting out loud moans as she pressed down on her clit even harder. she arched her back as she did, pushing her head against her headboard. she could feel the pressure building in her lower stomach, and she was practically humping her hand. she got sweatier and sweatier, the blanket covering her lower half not making it any better.

“are you really this desperate? you could-“

abbys fantasy was interrupted by the sound of her phone ringing next to her. right when she was close. fuck. she nearly abandoned the phone call, but then the thought crossed her hazy mind. what if it was you?

so she wiped her hands on her boxers , took a deep breath, and answered her phone.

she tried not to get her hopes up, worried it might be another telemarketer. annoyed at the fact that she gave up cumming for some random person.

“hello? is this..-abby?”

#HARD WORK.#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x black reader #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson smut #abby x you #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson tlou2 #abby tlou

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joeloverture · 9 months ago

Text

fair's fair | pervy!dbf!joel x f!reader

masterlist | notifs blog

pairing: pervy!dbf!joel x pervy!f!reader summary: [no outbreak] joel shoves you in his sweaty pits as a 'joke'. warnings: (18+ mdni) pervy!dbf!joel, age gap (early to mid 20s/38), somewhat mutual pining & sexual tension, joel in a wifebeater and jorts, reader has hair, smacking joel's ass like god intended, degradation, sweaty!joel, musk kink, armpit kink!!!, coming untouched, joel calls reader 'kiddo', 2 spanks, m!masturbation [no use of y/n] word count: 2.1k a/n: in another life, i'd be sorry for this fic. in this life, i am not. as always, a shoutout to the effervescent @lovesickonmybed for moodboard curation + creating this au. love to @seventeenpins for taking a glimpse at this + inspiring me. ty esquire team.... hooooly shit. pls suspend your disbelief if you can't come untouched we're here for a good time not a realistic one. btw you're all pussies for chickening out of the pit fics you 'planned' to write after this esquire photo fell into our laps /j

You awake to a rattling crash on the other side of the wall that you share with your dad’s combination garage/man cave. With an exaggerated groan, you peel yourself out of your creased sheets. Maybe the raccoons that have been terrorizing your garbage cans have finally broken into the garage. You’re still in your pajamas — a low-cut tank top and some bloomers that are entirely too short on you — when you rub the sleep from your eyes and shove your feet into your slippers to investigate.

The house is quieter than dust so early in the morning. Your dad’s out at work, and the rest of the neighborhood is just beginning to wake up. There’s the tstststststs of the Adler’s sprinkler system and the birds are chirping. In the mudroom, you snatch up a broom and wrap your fist around it. You listen through the paneling of the door for any hissing or scuttling, but hear nothing. You are not looking to get rabies today.

You poke your head out of the door, broom pointed at the ground like a staff. Immediately, you’re blinded by a slice of sunshine cutting through the very much open garage.

You’re about two seconds away from sprinting back inside to call 911 when you see the unkempt, sunkissed hair of none other than Joel Miller.

You set the broom gently back against the wall. Joel’s not a threat – at least not to anything but that traitor between your legs. He’s just your dad’s buddy; drinking buddy, fishing buddy, jack-of-all-trades buddy. He’s also no stranger to those borderline goo-goo eyes you give him. How could you not? He’s just so broad and muscled and God, you swear up and down that you stare more at his ass than anyone has ever stared at yours.

Sometimes, if you’re lucky, he’ll even give you shit about it. Bending over directly in your line of sight at block parties, ‘play wrestling’ with you on the dock by the lake whenever you jokingly call him an old man, or, in one very special instant, giving your ass a smack that sent you into an hours long tizzy.

You deserve to give him shit about it, too.

After all, he’s the one ferreting around in your dad’s garage in the wee hours of the morning. You pad into the garage, footsteps muffled by your slippers as you navigate around your dad’s pickup. You catch a better look at Joel when you pass the truck bed. And, for better or for worse, he’s dressed like a slut.

His ribbed white wifebeater stretches over his wide chest, grass stains scattered along the small of his back. Sweat darkens the hems of his shirt under his armpits, glistening and beading on the back of his neck, too. In true dad fashion, he even has on jorts. He’s bent over your dad’s tool bench, thumbing around an assortment of screwdrivers. His denim-covered ass sticks out. A smile spreads across your face.

You slip around the truck and take soft step after soft step until you’re right behind him. You can’t help but notice a cocktail of his pheromones and B.O. surrounding him. He must’ve been outside for a while now with all of the stains he’s accumulated on his shirt already. You keep your breathing muted so he can’t hear you as you reach out and — smack!

Joel shrieks, shooting upright. His head slams into the shelf overhead and a few bolts go toppling onto the concrete below. He cusses like a sailor as his hand goes up to rub the back of his head, nursing where a lump will probably be in a few hours time. Joel whips around to see you, smothering your giggles behind your hand. “You little shit,” he huffs, still scratching at his head. You don’t miss how his cheeks are firetruck red. “The fuck are ya doin’?”

“Me? The fuck are you doing, Miller? Stomping around my dad’s garage at, like, the asscrack of dawn–”

“Nine in the mornin’ ain’t the asscrack of dawn, sweetcheeks,” Joel says. Then, he holds up a set of pliers. “Mower shit the bed. I’m thinkin’ Sarah stole my pliers to make necklaces, but she hasn’t fessed up yet. Your pops said I could borrow his.” He stretches, giving you a long whiff of his scent. The groan he lets out stirs something in your stomach, much to your chagrin.

“I think the mower is the least of your worries,” you say, wrinkling your nose. “You reek. Shower shit the bed, too?”

“You try doin’ yard work in 90 degree heat, kiddo. See how much you smell like that strawberry raspberry peach whatever-the-fuck soap you’re usin’.”

You roll your eyes so hard you’re surprised you don’t see the back of your skull. “Rosemary eucalyptus,” you correct under your breath.

“Hmm, what was that?” Joel asks, tossing the pliers down onto the workbench. “Gotta speak up.”

“Rosemary eucalyptus,” you say. “But I bet you wouldn’t know. What do you use? 18 in 1?”

Joel grunts. “Real funny.” He takes a step closer to you, lips taut with a smirk. “How ‘bout you find out?”

You don’t have time to question what the hell he means – he just cups the back of your head with one of his wide palms and shoves your face directly into his closest sweaty pit. “Mmmmph!” you protest, mouth sealed shut against the thatch of hair that’s spattered across his skin. You hold your breath for as long as you can, but eventually, you’re forced to suck in a breath through your squished nose. His musk, sweet and just as sharp, fills your airways. Your clit all but jerks between your legs in humiliation, drawing a whine out of your throat.

Joel chuckles, ruffling your hair. It’s enough to make your thighs clench. “You’re a little freak, huh?” He presses harder on the back of your head, so much so that you almost get a mouthful of his underarm.

“Youuu dick!” you try to say without opening your mouth too far. It comes out muffled against his sweat-pearled skin. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to push him off of you.

Another wry chuckle comes from above. Joel bends his arm so that his elbow is wrapped around the back of your head, effectively trapping you in his funk. “Come on, huff ‘em. Practically fuckin’ asking for it earlier, all ‘a that mouthin’ off. So now you get a mouthful of my pits. Fair’s fair, kiddo.”

Embarrassment ribbons through your body, the kind that makes you leak into your panties against your will. Still looking for a way out, you squirm against his ironclad hold.

It’s only good for making him land a heavy-hitting slap across your ass. You yelp, a new wave of slick saturating the drenched gusset of your panties. You jump where you are, hips bucking into nothing – for escape or pressure, you’re not entirely sure. “Unless you wanna go over my knee instead?” Your face sears with humiliation.

Tentatively, you snuffle a bit against his pit, biting into your cheeks at his musk. It makes you cough a little bit – he’s been carrying the smell of cutting grass and his own sweat all morning.

“Yeah, thought so. But you can do better than that, sweetcheeks. I said huff, not fake an asthma attack.” You whimper, this time sucking in a longer breath. Here he is, holding you down, secure against his pit as you're left with no other option than to take what he gives you, when he gives it to you. All you can smell, feel, touch is just Joel, Joel, Joel. It makes you lightheaded.

Your clit is practically a kickdrum between your thighs, pulsing and doing more work than your head. You try to angle yourself so that you can rub your clit against Joel’s leg, but he puts a stop to that real quick. “Gettin’ all wound up just from being where ya belong, your pretty little face in my pit?” You mewl, reaching for Joel’s sides. You bunch your fists in the fabric of his wifebeater, and he allows it.

“Since you’re so eager to complain about it, how ‘bout you clean me up, huh?” He nudges his pit against your face again, and, confusedly, you furrow your brows. You can’t see much of him, but you do see the edge of his mouth tip up in satisfaction. “You got rocks for brains? Lick, kiddo.”

Hesitance drives the soft kitten lick of your tongue, swiping up and down across a very small portion of his pit. He loosens up on his grip on you, giving you the slightest bit more reign. You try to tell yourself that you’re scared of what he might do if you disappoint him, but hell if you don’t want this as much as he does, tongue, nose, face buried in his pits. Some sort of ultimate form of worship between the two of you.

You lave your tongue across his pit, eyes fluttering with each stroke. You swirl it in the crease of his arm, sucking his goddamn hairs clean with the fervor you’ve picked up. Enthused now, you bob your head up and down. Your clit responds, throbbing with a heartbeat of its own.

You’re panting, inhaling and exhaling him, lapping up his musk like a fucking dog, gone from reluctant to eager. Your clit twitches faster and faster, and you swear that arousal must be tacky on the insides of your thighs, leaking through your panties all over the front of your bloomers, but you can’t do anything about it. You can’t even grind against Joel – you can only slurp against his armpit, something like desperation having replaced all of your previous mortification from when he’d shoved you there in the first place.

You’re so preoccupied with pleasing him that you don’t even notice the thumping of your clit, picking up speed and pressure. Your body seizes in between your greedy little licks. You feel yourself weaken before you stiffen.

And maybe it’s the way Joel keeps groaning with each movement of your tongue. It could be how he exhales, “Kiddo,” in a raspy voice, both demeaning and endearing all at once. But in the end, it’s how he says, “Mmmm, such a good goddamn tongue. Bet it’d feel so good on my cock,” that breaks the dam between your legs.

You shudder, coming completely undone with little moans and whimpers in Joel’s arms without so much as a hand on your clit, just your face smothered in his pit. Drool runs down your lips and across your chin as you jerk and weaken in his grasp. If you weren’t so underwater, so far gone, you’d be able to hear him saying, “Fuck – whoa, whoa, whoa,” trying to stop you from falling on your ass in the middle of the garage. His hands card across your sides as he props you up against the workbench. Your vision blackens at the edges from the intensity of your orgasm, and you’re still coming, at least you think you are, when you blink yourself back to awareness. You’re wide-eyed, tears brimming at your waterline, incapacitated in a way that you didn’t know you could be.

“Holy shit,” you gasp when you finally fully come to, slumped over the workbench, still half-clinging to Joel. “Fuck.”

Joel looks stunned, looking you up and down as if he can’t get enough of you. His eyes land right between your thighs, where, sure enough, you’ve ruined your bloomers. You still feel like deadweight, and you struggle to stand upright. You’re not sure you’ve ever come so hard even with someone’s hands all over your. Joel’s glistening with even more sweat, and it’s impossible to miss the glaring bulge in his shorts. He clears his throat after a minute. “Oughta go get cleaned up before your daddy gets back for his lunch break, kiddo.”

You stumble upright, drenched in sweat yourself now, Joel’s lingering scent still pervading every breath you take. “Y-yeah,” you manage, nodding. You feel out of your own body, stumbling towards the door. You’re so wet that you can feel it with every goddamn step. Fuck Joel Miller, cocky piece of sh–

You’re immediately returned to your own body by the resounding swat Joel lands on your ass. You jump, shooting a glare over your shoulder. He puts his hands up, pleading innocence.

You’re not surprised when you crawl out of your shower, smelling of rosemary eucalyptus and dripping water all over the floor, only to see Joel’s mower abandoned in the middle of his yard. Even worse, you aren’t surprised in the slightest when you squint through your bedroom window, Joel sprawled out across his bed, hips bucking in-time with his fist before catching your eye and spraying ropes of cum all over his abdomen.

You mouth at him through the window with a taunting little wink, Clean yourself up this time.

#oh what i wouldnt give to get lost in that mans bottomless pits #vetty's words 𓇢𓆸 #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller/reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut

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