#asphalt creeps | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pedgito · 20 days ago

Text

𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 | Joel Miller x reader x Tommy Miller

summary | a moment of desperation and a kind gesture leads you down an inescapable path alongside two brothers and a town with a nasty secret

author's note | so. its been three months and a much needed break from this place, but i started this back in august with a fully fleshed out idea and then my motivation fell flat. i had a good chunk of this done and i love it too much to not post, even if just for myself. this will be two parts, this one and one coming in the near future. its so self-indulgent and not everyone's cup of tea. but an extra special thank you to the special and lovely people i talked about this with and that took a look at for me, i love you endlessly.

content warning | 18+ smut, dubious consent (relating to cannibalism), cannibalism, gore, mentions of violence, blood, demeaning language, joel is a hardass, high tension and angst, joel has weird kink relating to...you guessed it, this story is heavily joel leaning but tommy is a decent part of it, smut (oral), night swims, food/feeding tw, joel is a bit of creep here. please heed the warnings and pass if it's not your thing.

word count —14k

Long, desolate roads led you here. No telling how long you had until you would find the city skyline again, car running on fumes for the last ten miles, the sign at the end of the road pulling your attention up, eyes peering through the windshield as your car veered to the right and to a full stop.

Miller’s Farm, next right

Helped wanted, no experience needed

Hourly pay and lodging included

You had fifty bucks left in cash and half of that would go toward gas if you could find a gas station, your arms crossed over the steering wheel and blocked the blow to your forehead as you rested it against your forearms in frustration.The car’s AC was shotty at best, requiring you to hit it every half hour to keep it alive and even then it was a weak sputtering and a barely there chill that did nothing to quell the layer of sweat on your skin.

It takes several long, frustrating minutes before you decide that you don’t have any other option.

You were stranded, this was it.

Maybe hospitality extended this far out into the country, that even this far from the city there were still a few good, decent people around. With a deep, heavy sigh you exit the car and shove your key into the door, locking it and pocketing the keys into the pack slung over your shoulder.

It’s been weeks on the road, leaving pieces and pieces of you behind as you traveled. The lesser the weight, the lesser the burden. Were you running? You weren’t sure. But, staying in one place for too long made you antsy. Town to town, taking odd jobs where they were offered, living off the kindness of others in hopes of making it somewhere seaside.

Start a new life, forget about your past.

Austin wasn’t supposed to be your final stop, or even a detour, but the steps you took down the side of the road and toward the farm in the distance would be another place of temporary sanctuary. Hopefully.

Eventually the asphalt turns to dirt, kicking up gravel under your feet as you walk and covering your skin in a thin layer of fresh grime and sweat under the high noon sun. The barn, once a far-off dot, was now large and vibrant, that distinct red popping out amongst the rest of the dilapidated property, void of most color outside of dull brown. There was a house to the left, cluttered with a melody of things. Tools, furniture, plants, and things you couldn’t even recognize.

You squint, hand over your brow like a makeshift visor as you look around and hope to see someone, anyone—this couldn’t be the wrong place?

A truck under the hastily built carport and a trailer attached to the hitch—someone was home. You look around carefully, peering over your shoulder and finding nothing. There was no wind, no noise, and your breath caught in your throat.

Maybe this was the time to turn back and attempt your chances elsewhere.

The front door opening with a creak has your head whipping back over your shoulder to set sights on the person in front of you—a man, tanned skin and tall. He was stocky but lean, black hair tucked behind his ears and trimmed just above his shoulders. He looked clean, which was more than you could say for yourself. All clean-cut man, jeans and a casual shirt, boots tucked under his jeans as his hand curled around the front door of the house and half of his figure leaned out.

“Can I help you, darlin’?” The twang flows out of his mouth naturally, taking a few steps out of the house before he’s closing the door behind him and following the small path of the front yard masked with clutter until he’s near you, a few feet away. “You lost?”

“I—I saw the sign?” You implore, jutting your thumb over your shoulder in the direction of the road, “My car ran out of gas, I’m out of money and it’s hot. I was just hoping for some work to help get me back on my feet and out of your hair as quickly as possible.”

The man nods, readying to open his mouth before you continue.

“I don’t mind the work, I’m not picky. I don’t have a resume or anything, but I promise—”

“Woah, slow down,” You can hear the amusement, a smirk pulling at his face and you chew at your bottom lip nervously, fingers twisting around the straps of your backpack, “We’re not lookin’ for some hoity toity types with degrees—you comfortable gettin’ dirty?”

You glance down at your clothes, a few days without a shower and driving down sideroads with your windows down has made you look worse for wear, “Absolutely. I just need the money and a bed, couch even—you won’t even know I’m here if that’s an issue for you. I can keep busy.”

You glazed over the we in his response, looking around curiously again.

He extends his hand unexpectedly, “I’m Tommy,” He introduces and you take his hand softly, feeling him squeeze firmly at your grip and the smirk in his face soften into a smile, “listen—we don’t do the whole hirin’ process. I gotta run it by my brother Joel and there’s a few cautionary steps we gotta take due to the work, but we can give it a test run? See how you feel?”

You felt inclined to ask what the work was, but you decided not to be picky.

And like a dinner bell had been rung, the other man appears out of the barn.

Joel, a stark difference to his brother in stature and cleanliness but the resemblance was uncanny in the way they carried themselves. A similar stride that felt intimidating, broad shoulders stretched out over taught muscle and a matching resting scowl on his face.

Something told you his expression was more permanent, though. His brow pulls together, eyes squinting as he looks you over. He was wiping at his dirtied hands with a rag, a sheen of maroon drying to brown that you could only assume was blood.

It was a farm. Animals. That meant slaughter.

The thought of it didn’t make you vomit initially, so you considered that a good thing.

It takes one look and he’s giving a disparaging shake of his head, turning his head toward his brother to offer his opinion, “Ain’t worth the trouble.”

You instantly grimace, offering a less than subtle look of distaste at that man.

Stubbornness is what he notices immediately, but then your eyes are flicking back toward his brother who looks more confused now than when you had first approached the farm.

“You said you were outta gas, right? Just needin’ some extra money?” He confirms and you answer with a simple nod of your head. He looks over at Joel, arms crossing over his chest, “Said she doesn’t mind gettin’ dirty—willing to help out wherever. I’m sure we can find her some work, right?”

Joel looks you over slowly, a predatory gaze that makes you feel infinitely smaller. He was staring through you, seeing the deepest and darkest parts of your soul. His eyes were darker, nearly black and ringed with deep set under eyes from an obvious lack of sleep—whereas Tommy, he was chipper and well-rested, eyes a warm amber and much more inviting.

“You slaughter cattle before?” Joel asks, “Cleaned up shit? Worked on a farm? Anything like that?”

You shake your head but quickly respond before he has a chance to speak, “I don’t care what the work is—I’ll do it. If I need to be taught, I’m willing to learn. I’m a quick learner too.”

Devotion is what he senses at a slower rate, the slow blink of your eyes as they flick between the two brothers—he could give Tommy an ultimatum and turn you away, but something in his gut twists.

She’s useful, she’s good. Good supply if it came down to that. Given you passed the tests.

But, there was something lingering in your gaze, yet to be discovered. Joel was curious.

“Send her to the doc, give her the guest room,” Joel tells Tommy after a moment of thought, sounding slightly irritated but it forces out the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, “You’ll start work when we know you’re cleared.”

You nod dutifully and Tommy returns a relaxed smile, “It’s a liability thing,” He promises, “and it’s heavy work, better to know if your body can handle it alright before we put you through the ringer.”

“Whatever I need to do,” You return the grin, tracking Joel’s departing figure as he re-entered the barn and disappears, “is he always that angry?”

“Usually,” Tommy replies, rusting around in his back pocket for a set of keys, “I’ll give you a ride to the clinic and we can tow your car here tonight—to keep away anyone tryin’ to scalp it for parts. Sounds good?”

“Sounds perfect,” You agree, wiping at the sweat on your brow with the back of your hand, “but—do you think I could take a quick shower first? It’s just walking in the heat and it’s been a few days...”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah,” Tommy stumbles over his words, but nods for you to follow him inside.

With trepidation, you take your first steps and follow.

And what you’re expecting is not what is revealed to you. It made sense that the disorganization would spill into the house, but it was nearly spotless. Pristine countertops and polished wooden furniture, a wall of file cabinets and a tucked away nook with a computer set up. It was like entering another dimension, your eyes tracking along the full expanse of the house before they land on Tommy, who’s looking on with that same amusement as earlier.

“It’s a lot of work but I try to keep it clean here,” Tommy admits, “The outside is…all Joel, mostly.”

You shake your head with indifference, holding your hands up in defense.

You weren’t judging, it wasn’t your place.

“The shower is down that hall,” Tommy points toward the central hall, rooms lining each side, “first door on the right—did you—do you have clothes?”

“Only one clean pair left,” You confess, “but I’ll make do.”

“We’ve got clothes, if you need them. Don’t be afraid to ask.”

There’s a responsiveness to Tommy that intrigues you—approachable, kind, a hard disjunction from his counterpart that was like a breath of fresh air. You don’t allow yourself to linger either, making your way to the bathroom with quick footsteps and remaining blind to the rest of the house, hearing a sharp scuffle of a chair that you can only assume is Tommy as he sits and waits.

It was the easiest predicament you've dealt with in the last few months. But you weren’t, not even for a moment, going to question it.

It’s a small building near the edge of the town, only a half hour drive from the farm and sat in some silence, you find out a slow trickling of information that Tommy shares, his elbow propped against the open window and the other gripping tight around the steering wheel, his hair a wind-blown mess.

“It’s been in our family for years,” he tells you, traveling down the quiet road and the low hum of the radio mingling with his voice, “s’why it's a mess—can’t be bothered to part with some of that junk.”

“I’m not judging.”

Tommy offers a look of skepticism, laced with a smile.

“It is a lot of stuff,” you grin in response, a subtle quirk at the corner of your mouth.

“Joel is a little sentimental,” Tommy adds, “he’s always been like that—harder for him to let shit go.”

You respond with a gentle nod as Tommy pulls into the parking lot of the clinic, exiting the truck with a swiftness before he’s at the passenger side and opening your own door, “Oh—that is really not necessary—”

“My momma would be rollin’ in her grave otherwise,” Tommy gripes playfully as his fingers curl around the open door, “so, just let me, alright?”

You don’t argue, chivalry be damned.

There isn’t much to be confused about as you step inside the clinic with Tommy in tow. He takes a seat near the door and the doctor, an old man with a limp and someone who refers to Tommy as son—he earns a casual nod in return and then you’re led beyond the door to the hall of other rooms.

It was a very typical line of questions, a general physical, and a blood draw that he promised would be pushed through quickly for the benefit of allowing you to work as soon as possible.

You try desperately to ignore the particular aura about the old man, thin-wired glasses perched on his sharp nose, age spots littering his face and bald head—but the most glaring is the missing pinky fingers on both hands. It was so clean cut and well-healed that you assume it could be something he was born with, but the moment he spots you noticing, he seems to switch gears.

“You’re all good here,” he tells you, “If anything comes up I’ll give the Miller’s a call—you’re lodging there, right?”

Your left eyebrow raises slightly, nodding hesitantly in response.

“Gotten a few like you before,” he comments oddly, “I’m not passing any judgment, it’s just a question.”

“Yeah—yeah I am. Staying there.”

Increasingly creeped out as the seconds pass you breathe a sigh of relief as he allows you to leave, meeting Tommy at the front door with a less than comfortable expression. His eyes press a silent question but you shrug it off, hearing him bid a polite goodbye over your shoulder as you walk toward the truck.

Eventually, settled into the truck as Tommy turned over the ignition, he responds with comfort, “He ain’t the most approachable guy,” he admits, “but he’s been helpin’ us for years.”

That was one way of putting it.

“Hopefully I pass with flying colors then.”

Tommy shrugs, backing out of the parking lot with his arm thrown over the passenger seat, feeling the slight touch of his fingertips against the back of your neck through the headrest, “We can figure somethin’ out anyways, seeing as you’re more than eager,” Tommy grins, teeth peeking through, “I like that.

–

Tommy gives you a proper tour when you arrive back, nothing extensive but he does walk you around the property. He shows you the animal pens; pigs, goats, a few cows wandering around the pasture. And the barn, but he doesn’t enter. You note the lock hanging from the doors, clunky and rusted but securing the doors closed.

The inside of the house is less of a mystery, following Tommy as he lead you into the kitchen and showed off the expensive counter space and deep set sink—if they didn’t put a lot of effort into cooking then you didn’t understand the reasoning for the size, but as the thought floods your mind, Tommy plucks it out and answers it.

“Joel is a better cook than me,” he admits, “another bonus, home-cooked meals, a lot of our meats are ethically-sourced—” The look you shoot his way is quizzical.

“Grass-fed and they’re free to roam and forage for the most part, we’re not stuffin’ them full of grain feed to fatten ‘em up. We try to keep things humane. Joel deals with most of the dirty work and I stick to numbers and talkin’,” he explains, “he ain't’ much for socializing.”

Joel enters at the mention of himself, grunting as he steps beyond the threshold. His coveralls hung around his waist, tied at the hips and the dirty undershirt stretched tight over his broad chest. He peeled off his boots at the door and Tommy leaned against the counter lazily, one foot crossed over the other as he folded his arms and looked over at you, eyes slowly dragging to his brother.

“She cleared?” He asks briskly, “Or we sendin’ her on her merry way?”

“Joel,” Tommy chastises and Joel smirks, taking a quick glance over at you, “doc said he’d call in the morning and let us know, we can spare a meal and a bed for a night.”

Almost as if you two weren’t even there, he strips off his dirtied shirt and works at the tie around his hips with the hand free of the balled up cloth, “Hope you like mess, girl.”

“I’m not picky,” You shrug, resting your hands loosely against your hips as he walks toward the same hallway you had traveled down earlier, “A little mud and grime won’t kill me.”

Joel chuckles softly at that, fully disparaging, “Blood make you squeamish?”

You shake your head, noting the caked bits of dried blood tucked in the crook of his arms and the creases of his neck, a faint pink tint from his chin down, “As long as it isn’t mine.”

Tommy seems to tense at your wording, his arms flexing tight as he eyed his brother under a downturned gaze, staying quiet under the domineering energy his brother exuded.

“She might just survive ‘round here,” he directs at his brother, a smarmy remark although more boastful than he had been since the first time he spoke, but the distaste for you still lingered, oozed right out of the disingenuous smirk crossing his face.

He ain’t much for socializing.

It would only take a few weeks, you think. A few weeks and a couple cash payments and you could move onto the next place on your never-ending roadmap. You feel yourself breathing out a sigh of relief as Joel disappears, not realizing how long you had been holding it in.

“S’much as I’d like to have nice home-cooked meal, I think it’d be better if I grab some dinner from the dinner down the road,” Tommy offers, keys clutched in his grip as he rocks on his heels, “I’m gonna pick up your car on the way back, like I promised.”

And then he smiles, again. But, there’s a moment when it finally reaches his eyes and you can’t help but return the gesture, “I…think I’ll hide out in the guest room until you come back,” you admit, pointing toward the hallway, “no offense to your brother, but—”

“Don’t take it personally,” Tommy assures, “don’t let ‘em intimidate you, either.”

Fight fire with fire.

It wasn’t your forte, but you were hellbent on survival and you would adapt if you had to.

You’ve spent the last half hour sorting through a puzzle on your haphazardly made bed, chin tucked into your palm, eyes tracking over the pieces until you could find a suitable match and slotting it into place before repeating the process. The deft shift and click of a door being shut pulls your attention upright, assuming it was Tommy, you clamber out of bed.

What you aren’t expecting is the solid chest that slams into your side, senses overwhelmed with the strong smell of aftershave and clean body wash—it wasn’t a particular scent, just…clean.

You look over, find Joel with a perturbed look on his face, a dinner plate hovering above your head and his expression turning more and more grim as time passes. “Sorry,” you mumble, “thought you were Tommy.”

“I look like Tommy to you?”

You tilt your head, expression pinching together in annoyance.

Intimidation, just like Tommy had mentioned.

“Yeah,” you respond coarsely, “but at least he’s not acting like someone shit in his food—do you treat everyone like this who comes through here? Is that why you can’t keep people around here?”

His arms drop then, strutting past you with heavy footsteps as he makes his way to the sink, dropping the dirty dishes and pressing his hands into the edge of the center island that sat opposite the line of cabinets and countertops.

“You runnin’?” Joel asks curiously, ignoring your initial question. “Cops gonna come lookin’ for you?”

You balk, offended by his asinine line of questioning.

“That’s none of your business,” you respond to the first question before spitting out a venomous, “No—what? Scared of a couple cops? Are you hiding something, Joel?”

That seems to strike a nerve decently enough that he rises, creeping around the edge of the island until he’s striding toward you, a hair's breadth away as you swallow hard.

You couldn’t help it—he was large, intense, intimidating without trying. He didn’t have to speak, the image of him did the work itself. Even as he looked more approachable, clean clothes and a freshly shaven face down to a thin layer of stubble, almost normal in appearance. But, there’s rage behind his eyes. It simmers slowly, a creeping boil that would come back to bite you if you allowed it.

“No,” he responds truthfully—at least, it seemed that way. His voice never wavered or faltered, he was strong and believable with his words, “but two things you ‘oughta know—one, don’t go snooping around where your nose doesn’t belong. Two, keep to yourself in this town.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You don’t wanna find out,” he responds without hesitation, both of you snapping out of the intensity of the conversation as the front door slides open, a very focused Tommy stepping through the door with hands full of styrofoam containers full of greasy burgers and fries.

“Nice,” Tommy notes humorously, “you two didn’t kill each other.”

Yet.

“Got us burgers for dinner,” he explains, holding up the bags, “that alright?”

Joel clears his throat, hand wiping over his tired expression, “Already ate,” he responds short, clipped. Tommy doesn’t question it, but his eyes immediately catch on you, wondering what he had interrupted as he sees your body relax when Joel steps away. But, he shakes it off, offering a lazy grumble of a noise in response to his brother as he drops the food on the nearby dining table.

The dichotomy in the pairing is strange and you can’t comprehend how they’ve managed to co-exist as roommates, let alone siblings. But, they were also strangers. You had nothing but assumptions racking your brain, so you pushed it away.

Eat, sleep, and face the next day with a different attitude. A fresh start.

–

The morning was met with a rustling of two other occupants as they moved about beyond the barrier of your room, voices muffled but constant as they carried on amidst your dreary haze, rubbing at your eyes tiredly. It had been weeks since you’ve slept in a decent bed, not the backseat of your car or a mattress that felt like sleeping on a wall of bricks. You didn’t have a reason to complain and given the circumstances—a roof over your head, a space to yourself.

You’d be stupid to argue otherwise.

There’s a quick whistle behind the closed door to your room, followed by a gentle knock.

“Come in,” you say groggily, muffling out the end with a yawn as you stretch your tight limbs and watch as Tommy peaks his head through the open door, already showered and primed up for the day, his gaze lingers on you for a while and watches quietly. It should make you feel uncomfortable, but it does quite the opposite as you offer a shy smile, “—is this the part where you tell me I have to leave?

Your hands slap the comforter as he widens the door, letting it thud silently against the wall as he leans against the doorframe, hip cocked into his right hand.

“No, you’re all clear,” he tells you, nodding over his shoulder, “we’ve got a few things for you to do this morning but I wanted to keep it light and let you get adjusted.”

You nod lazily and push yourself out of bed, rubbing at the goosebump chill that spreads over your arms as you feel the kick of cooled air spread through the room, “Enjoy it,” Tommy remarks, “ain’t gonna feel that good outside.”

Tommy departs with his trademark grin, albeit more subdued by his tired eyes as he knocks his fist against the doorframe. But, as you’re heading for the bathroom across the hall, Joel finds you again.

He’s dressed for what you can only assume is a long day of work, thick pants paired with an even thicker shirt, skin covered from his neck to his feet and far too stuffy for the sticky humidity outside—his job couldn’t be easy and you weren’t faulting him for it, but the scowl on his face is getting under your skin and allowing its claws to find purchase within it.

He takes a sharp bite out of an apple you don’t realize he’s holding until it is pressed against his lips, teeth digging into the skin, juices squirting out with the force of it.

“There’s a full dresser of clothes for you in the corner,” He haphazardly points to the mahogany dresser tucked away in the corner, “different sizes and shit, you’ll have to find something. Since you don’t have nothin’.”

You eye him skeptical but don’t argue, walking toward the dresser and pulling at the top drawer. It was a mix of new socks and underwear, all pressed and fresh in their packages. The next drawer, a mixture of different shirts varying in shades, sizes, designs. Your head turns on a swivel, watching as Joel takes another bite out of the apple, speaking around the food in his mouth.

“People come and go,” he explains vaguely, “always leavin’ stuff behind, so—”

Again, he waves vaguely in your direction.

“Got it,” you answer curtly, turning your attention away from him.

You shake away the looming cloud of discomfort that Joel leaves in his departure and sift through the clothes—at least they were being hospitable. That was more than enough to allow you to push the uneasiness aside for the time being.

Tommy heaves the bucket of dirtied blades and utensils, cutting boards, and a collection of other tools that you weren’t sure you’ve ever seen in your life, all coated with dried, oxidized blood of varying animals, you assume. You didn’t think to ask, didn’t want to know.

Not yet, anyways.

Tommy rested his elbow against the edge of the bucket, having led you to the back of the house—it was similar to a sunroom, an entire wall of windows that gave you a beautiful view to the fields behind the house. Miles and miles of land, undistributed by the hum of city traffic and noise. The other wall, a dead-on view of the barn that Joel barricaded himself in. Tommy looks over briefly as Joel makes his trek to the locked doors, a metal jug of water in hand, a meat cleaver in the other.

“Well, he’s a ball of sunshine,” you joke before picking through the bucket of items carefully, keeping your fingers clear of the sharp blades, “is this it?”

“Most of it,” Tommy admits, “for now.”

You nod dutifully and watch as he explains things out in a few steps, rules to follow, a method of attack.

“So, just rinse at first with some soap, disinfect with the alcohol, then repeat and lay it out to dry. Pretty simple, but they need to be clean,” he stresses, his teeth peeking out beyond his lips as he stresses the syllable on his tongue, “and always use gloves.”

He grabs the rubber pair and offers it over before he’s speaking again, this time his words coming a little more hesitantly, “Also—I grabbed your car last night. I was gonna tell you over dinner, but I figured you needed a decent night of sleep.”

“As long as you found it in one piece,” You joke, fitting your hands into the gloves, and the silence has your heart dropping into your gut, “you did, right?”

“Yeah,” his voice wavers with hesitation, eyes squinting slightly in a tell that he wasn’t offering the full truth and you tilt your head, mouth turning down in frustration, “but—it was pretty mangled.”

“You’re kidding me—”

“Tires were slashed,” Tommy holds his hands up, palm out as he attempts to calm you, “there’s some rowdy kids ‘round here always causing trouble. We’ll figure it out for you, alright?”

Your jaw tenses, teeth clenched behind a tight smile and you nod jerkily. A hard swallow and harsh breath later you’re looking at him with softer, kinder eyes.

“Thank you, Tommy,” you tell him, “I feel like I’m already causing too much trouble for the both of you, doesn’t help that Joel would rather see me as roadkill than—”

Tommy rubs a finger under your chin to pull your gaze to his, a fleeting touch that has you freezing in place but looking up aptly, eagerly. He scrunches his nose slightly and shakes his head, “Darlin’, we’ve dealt with plenty of trouble. You don’t even come close.”

You laugh slightly, a grin pulling at the corner of your mouth.

Tommy claps his hands together gently before shoving them into his front pockets, looking over his shoulder briefly before his eyes are back on you, “I’m going to start on some paperwork,” he explains, “come find me when you’re done?”

You nod dutifully, turning to your task as Tommy leaves.

It isn’t hard by any means. It’s like washing dishes if you ignore the prudent smell and extra scrubbing to get the tools completely spotless before you’re running them through the steps that Tommy had listed off, attempting to ignore how weary your arms felt by the end of it.

Your eyes kept flickering toward the barn throughout, wondering if Joel would surface—two hours passed and there wasn’t any sight of him. It was like he lived in there, a nocturnal animal that needed the seclusion and no direct sunlight. It couldn’t be that enjoyable to be held up inside the barn all day.

When you’re finished you carry the bucket into the kitchen and place it on a nearby chair, tracking the back of Tommy’s head. He’s tucked away in the corner at the desk he’d shown you the other day, typing away and sorting through a small stack of papers.

Curiosity kills, so you wander over.

Peeking over his shoulder, nothing really makes sense.

It’s mostly numbers and an odd mixture of letters, a system that he must have come up with to track the intake of supplies and animals, some of them sorted by what looks like initials.

Tommy has a pen between his teeth and a calculator at his fingertips, typing away some numbers that add up to an amount that has your eyes bulging out, quickly realizing that this is none of your business.

He acknowledges your presence then, pulling the pen out of his mouth and looking over his shoulder with a curious expression, “Finished already?”

“Yeah,” you tell him, “I—sorry…if I was supposed to go slow.”

“Oh no, you’re alright,” Tommy turns in his chair, computer screen fading to black behind him, “I still have some stuff to finish up—why don’t you go check and see if Joel needs anything?”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Tommy smirks but not in a way to tease or patronize, he understands the presence his brother gives off, all intimidating and mostly unwelcoming.

“Just give a knock on the door,” Tommy instructs, “don’t go inside, he’s really testy about that. If he needs something he’ll answer.”

You compare it to something akin of facing the wrath of some beastly devil, gearing to attack.

Tommy offers an encouraging nod that you accept on less than enthusiastic legs, turning and heading out the front door with the surety that Joel would either ignore you or stir up some storm like he had the night prior.

He wasn’t nice or cordial, not that he needed to be—but it wasn’t a wonder why they seemed to go through help around the farm, running people off with his hard stares and less than appropriate comments. If making you uncomfortable was his plan, he was succeeding.

It’s quiet outside, morning slowly dissolving into afternoon. It’s still hot, feeling the rush of hot air hit your face as you make your way toward the barn, noticing the unlatched lock but remembering Tommy’s words.

Don’t go inside.

You knock, once with no answer. Again, notably drowned out by the rev of a chainsaw and then silence, a loud bang and rustling of dirt as footsteps come closer, instinctively you begin to step back, scampering away slightly as the door swings open just enough the Joel can fit his body between them, blocking you from peering inside over his large frame.

“You need somethin?” Joel asks, his tone tight and his eyebrow arched slightly in question, his finger wrapped tight around the rusted handle of the barn door.

“Tommy said to check if you needed help,” Joel seems to spot your curious eyes as you attempt to peek around his shoulder, his arm raising to curl around the side of the opposite, unopened door and pulling the open space tighter, his eyes peering down at you, “I finished—inside.”

“Already?” His voice is clipped but subtle with surprise, “You're the first one in weeks that ain’t emptied their stomach over that shit.”

It seemed extreme, but you knew that some people couldn’t handle things like blood or guts or even the thought of slaughtering animals. But, to you, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Sure, it was gross, but it wasn’t going to kill you.

“I’ve got a strong stomach,” you argue, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly as your gaze refocuses on him, “besides, I told you blood doesn’t make me squeamish. Did you think I was lying?”

“Don’t know you,” He shrugs simply, “don’t trust you. Is that what you wanna hear?”

You sigh softly, trying to keep the fraying edges of your temper under control, “Is there anything I can do?”

Joel pauses for a moment, seconds dwindling into a territory that brought you silent discomfort as he looked you over thoughtfully before peering over his shoulder.

“Actually, I got some scraps for the pigs. Think you can handle that?”

You hear the disregard in his tone and take the opportunity while he isn’t staring you down to roll your eyes, just in time as he turns his head to look at you.

“Do you?”

Joel laughs at that. A genuine laugh, though quiet and short, you hear it. It was proof that he had a legitimate emotion outside of the one built around pure disgruntlement.

He disappears for a moment, barn door slamming shut in your face and before you even have time to breathe, he’s back. It's a heavy metal bin full of minced meat and a faint coppery smell that has you turning your head and huffing under the weight as Joel trades the bin off.

He points around the corner, toward the corralled pigs snorting near the entrance to their pin, sending the impending meal you were holding.

“Just throw it in there,” He gestures vaguely at the trough inside the pin, “they’ll eat it right up. Oh, clean up the pin while you’re at it, the tools are in the shed out back.”

You nod slowly, digesting the information and feeling the liquid from the bin seep into the front of your shirt, the sensation making you curl inward, gasping at the coldness of it.

“Shit,” Joel curses, “shoulda gave you the apron, that’s always a messy task.”

He sounds honest, but you stare daggers back in return.

“Next time,” He offers with a half smile that makes you sick, “don’t take too long—if you want dinner.”

“If you’re cooking, I’ll pass.”

Again, Joel chuckles. Twice in the span of five minutes.

God, maybe you were winning him over.

“I’m a good cook,” he says confidently, though the snideness in his tone lingers but barely, “you’ll regret sayin’ that.”

You snort softly as you shake your head, turning on your heels and toward the pigs, hearing the soft thud of the barn door.

It takes you a half hour to finish the task, grimacing slightly as the pigs frenzy toward their food, leaving you mostly undisturbed as you clean up the pen, catching Joel with his overalls tied around his waist, sweat dripping down his neck and his hair matted to dirty skin.

He seemed normal like this, natural. Dirtied and grimy, a permanent grimace on his face as he traded places with his brother, who was headed toward their truck.

You catch his eye, a waved offer in return for your smile.

Another moment alone with Joel sounded dreadful and maybe sticking out in the remainder of the hot summer day didn’t sound too horrible now.

But, the poignant smell of the pig pen was enough to turn anyone’s stomach, so you choose dread.

You and Joel trade off showers silently, working around each other in a less than comfortable silence, mostly trying your best to avoid him entirely, but you can only bear the avoidance for so long.

Freshly showered and in a clean set of tattered lounge clothes, you round the corner into the kitchen and catch Joel’s back, a white shirt stretched over tight muscle as his back tenses when he reaches for the burner, adjusting the heat on the stove.

His keen hearing clues him in, turning briefly over his shoulder to spot you. His expression is softer, but still mostly guarded. With Tommy not around, he was a wildcard.

“Where’s Tommy?”

Joel stirs away at the pot full of food on the stove, answering with a casual tone, “Finishin’ up some business in town—you sure you ain’t hungry?”

As if he knows, your stomach growls.

You had managed a decent breakfast and light snacking throughout the day, but the rich aroma of spices makes the food hard to ignore.

You approach curiously, noting the emptied but bloodied casing for the meat he was cooking, cutting board with a few stray vegetable ends and Joel’s gaze flickers to you once, then twice.

“You want a taste?” Joel asks, lifting a spoonful from the pot, his hand hovering under the utensil, spotting your weariness immediately.

As a show of trust, or just plain good faith, he takes a sip of the broth before shoving the spoonful into his mouth, a clear indication that it was safe to eat.

Not that you thought he would attempt to taint the food, but it did ease your worries and you were hungry despite your feelings toward him, so you nod.

Joel smirks slightly and dips a wooden spoon into the pot again, bringing the food to your lips and watching as you blow, the steam bellowing up in front of your face and you sip gingerly, invaded with a burst of flavorful notes.

It was an instant indication that maybe you had judged Joel too hard on his cooking skills, impressed by how savory the food was, stronger than you’re used to, but it was still pleasant.

Joel’s eyes are stuck on you, gauging your reaction and his lips twitching as your eyes light up, a gentle nod of approval in response. He plucks a piece of meat from the spoon and raises his eyebrows in question.

You find yourself nodding instinctively and Joel drops the spoon into the pot, guiding the chunk of meat to your lips and you open your mouth willingly, feel the soft press of the food against your tongue and the tenderness of it, like butter as your teeth grind into the meat, feeling the swipe of Joel’s finger as he cleans up dripping line of sauce that slides down your chin.

And it tastes…fine. You wouldn’t dare give Joel the immediate satisfaction that you thought it was good, because it was. It was a perfect, home-cooked meal. Your stomach was craving it, mouth watering even more as you swallowed that first bite.

Joel brings his sauce covered finger to his own lips, pressing the digit inside of his mouth and sucking. He wasn’t wasteful, clearly—savoring every last drop.

“So,” Joel grins wider than he ever has, still sated but it was new, welcoming even, “change your mind?”

You shrug indifferently, but Joel senses your intrigue.

“I’ll give it a try.”

That’s all Joel needs to hear.

Somewhere between your first bite and your last, minimal conversation as you sit and devour the bowl of stew without a single qualm, you fall asleep.

It was a mix of exhaustion and a full belly, slumped against the table and your eyes falling shut despite yourself. Joel cleans quietly, dishes clashing softly as he washes the dirtied ones and wipes them clean, stowing away the leftover stew as peeks over his shoulder.

You’re still sound asleep, plush lips pulling together in a tight line as you sigh, breathing out through your nose.

Joel rubs his hands over the front of his jeans, ignoring the half-hard jut of his cock against the denim, knowing the moment your lips slipped around that spoon he was a goner.

He’s never gone that far, he’s never tried. He and Tommy have always kept to themselves and while Tommy didn’t stick to a strict diet of Joel’s preferred meat, he did dabble on occasion.

Joel preferred it, and like his brother, was raised on it.

But, like many of the people that have come and gone, always through the process of ending up as stock for the Miller farm, Joel has never forcibly tried to push their beliefs on anyone.

Unfortunately, Joel had never met someone as intriguing as you. Not nearly as squeamish as the others, even fully grown men shying away from the task of cleaning pig shit out of a pen—you were strong, but stubborn. Joel admired it, but he liked the challenge of breaking it out of you too.

He’d wake you eventually, but for now he watches. Arms pressed against the central counter, keeping him hidden in the darkness as the soft glow of the overhead lamp above the dining table illuminated you.

Joel’s come to recognize things—good bone structure, volume of meat and muscle, all the things that make certain humans the perfect piece of product.

And you were just that.

A pretty penny.

—

Sometime in the middle of your bleary haze you’d made it to bed, whether with assistance or not you find yourself waking with a turn of your stomach and rolling out of bed in hurried attempt, feeling the force of bile as it made its way up your throat, fumbling loudly with the doorknob until you managed to pry it open.

You make it to the bathroom across the hall just in time to spill the contents of that evening's dinner into the toilet, attempting desperately to keep your wits, arms clenched around your stomach as you heaved relentlessly.

The cold hands come a moment later, icing the back of your neck as they push the hair from your face and offer a soft reassurance.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Tommy’s voice cooed, his cold palm pressing against your forehead as your head lifted to look at him, tears streaming down your face now, “you with me?”

You nod weakly, hearing Joel’s heavy footsteps before you spot him, his stocky frame filling out the doorway.

“Musta been dinner,” Joel supplies to his younger brother, “she’s probably ain’t used to the stuff ‘round here. Less processed, harsher on the stomach when you ain’t had it before.”

Tommy’s gaze lowers, focusing on his brother harshly. It was a look of words unspoken, threatening intention and one that had you holding your breath, wondering if you’d done something wrong. His hand slips down your back, rubbing at the base of your spine.

In any other circumstance you might find yourself shying away, but you lean into it. He glances over, touching your skin once more. Left cheek, right cheek. You were clammy, mouth suddenly dry and begging for anything to quench the thirst or rid yourself of the sour taste in your mouth.

“Get her some water,” Tommy instructs his brother harshly, “and somethin’ cold, she’s sweating through her clothes.”

Joel doesn’t argue, half-expecting him to put up a fight. He retreats, knowing his wrong-doing but not finding the guilt inside him to care. You’d assimilate eventually, they all do. Him, Tommy, nearly all the townsfolk have learned to adjust to this lifestyle. Unspoken and secret amongst the outliers, it was the way of life around here.

He returns with a glass of water and cold rag, passing them off to his brother, “Don’t run off,” Tommy bites, “we need to talk.”

Joel grinds his teeth at the order, watching as you close your eyes to the glorious press of the cold, wet rag as Tommy squeezed it against your face, your neck, before bringing the glass of water to your lips. A few seconds and one generous gulp later you find yourself cracking a joke amongst the tension, pulling a soft laugh out of the younger brother.

“If you wanted an excuse to feel me up, you could’ve just asked.”

“Oh, pardon me, sweetheart,” Tommy remarks playfully, “I’ll keep that in mind next time.”

Joel sniffles awkwardly, tongue pressing into his cheek as Tommy passes off the items and rises to his feet, nodding toward the hall and motioning for his brother to follow.

“You need somethin’ you shout, alright?”

You nod obediently, flushing the toilet weakly before resting your head in your hands, attempting slow breaths to calm your racing heart, waiting for the second wave of sickness to hit you but hoping it never came.

There's a muffled argument on the other side of the wall, the tell-tale sign of Joel's gruff voice, tone clipped and decisive—it was the same way he had spoken to you during your first argument.

“What’s our one fucking rule, Joel?”

Tommy’s voice bites, hushed enough that you wouldn’t be able to hear him, nor Joel as they slowly moved toward the front of the house.

“You're gonna tell me not to do it?” Joel retorts, “I already did. There ain’t nothing to argue.”

There was one thing they both knew for sure.

You weren’t like the others.

“She’s gonna find out,” Tommy assures him, “She’ll find out and then you’ll be the one that’s gotta do the dirty work, not me.”

“Afraid of me choppin’ up your girlfriend into tiny little pieces for Robert and Stan down the road?” Joel asks, a vicious and cutthroat way to take a shot as his brother, who he knew better than anyone.

He’s grown attached too quickly. Joel had suspected, assumed by the immediate likeness to you, but the moment of care shared in the bathroom moments prior had confirmed that if Tommy wanted you, he could have you. The smile you offered in return for his kind efforts was enough for Joel to know.

So, yeah— feeding unknowing people human meat was the number one rule. But, growing attached was the unspoken one that the Miller brothers had always followed, without fail.

Until now.

“She’s smart—could use that, ya know?” Joel suggests, which is a surprise to Tommy.

His brother, who only ever thought about himself—he was suggesting you stay, that you could help.

“When are you gonna tell her?” Tommy asks, eyebrows raised in question as his hands settle on his hips, pajama pants hanging low. “Tomorrow?”

“I ain’t,” Joel responds without hesitation, “Like I said—she’s smart, she’ll figure it out.”

“Joel, if you don’t tell her I will—”

“No, you won’t,” Joel bites at his brother, stepping closer in an attempt to intimidate, “you tell her and she’ll run for the damn hills—let her figure it out and she’ll confront you. Then we’ll see how good you are at coverin’ our asses.”

It was Tommy’s job, the forefront of their business. He made the sales, talked to distributors in town. He was the face—a pretty face, more approachable. Joel was always sharper around the edges, harder to read.

Regardless, it didn’t matter. Joel had dug the hole for both of them and there was no way out.

–

You wake with an ache in your muscles and the instant need for a shower, covered in a layer of sweat that makes you want to strip your clothes instantly. You remember Tommy helping you to bed the night prior, the faint memories of you hunched over the toilet as you discarded your stomach contents and Joel watching over, observing, but the rest was a blur.

Not trying to waste anymore time, you quickly shower and dress, meeting the two boys in the kitchen as they readied themselves for the day, picking over breakfast. You settle for a couple of slices of bread, toasting them to a near crisp and snagging a ripe fruit from the basket on the counter, watching curiously as Joel makes a cup of coffee. It was the most normal course of action you’ve seen him take—he even took it with sugar, but obviously no cream.

Tommy already tore through breakfast and was sipping on his own cup of coffee, looking up at you occasionally over the newspaper he was reading, knowing that you were attempting to eat light after the night prior.

“Feelin’ better?” Tommy asks.

Your nod is noncommittal but Tommy doesn’t press.

Without prompting, Joel speaks, “It takes some gettin’ used to,” He explains, “it ain’t like the shit you get in the city.”

It would explain why he was unaffected, that maybe your stomach was just too weak.

“Same business today,” Tommy cuts in, ignoring the long stare you and Joel were holding, chewing slowly at the now soggy toast in your mouth, “we might have some stuff comin’ in tonight though and we’ll all have to offer a hand in unloading it, can you handle yourself?”

You approach him casually, stripping the peel off your banana as you take a bite.

“I can handle myself just fine,” you assure him, eyes pulling up briefly to regard Joel who was already departing for the front door without a word, “—you sure he isn’t trying to poison me?”

Tommy snorts softly, watching as you chewed thoughtfully on the banana and your gaze followed Joel through the windows, tracking his movements until he hit the barn. You feel Tommy’s hand graze your bicep, pulling your attention back toward him.

“He’s not,” If it was a lie, you couldn’t tell, “it all takes some adjusting, he isn’t lying.”

His hand still hadn’t moved and you looked down, his thumb rubbing over the exposed skin of your arm, “You know, I did say all you had to do was ask.” Tommy’s eyes crinkle with laughter, not expecting you to remember your words from last night, “Or, that’s inappropriate because…you’re technically my boss—”

“There isn’t rules out here, honey,” His voice is warm, inviting—but he’s still trying to keep himself at a distance, not too fast or too hard all at once. He’d set out the bait and wait for you to bite it, “we’re just here to help out and mind our business.”

“Okay,” Your response is soft, a gentle lilt to your voice that makes Tommy smile, “and...thank you for last night. I know it isn’t the most pleasant thing to wake up to in the middle of the night.”

His hand drops slowly, fingers trailing until they find your wrist and offering a gentle squeeze before his fingers depart you entirely, “I lived on this farm my entire life. There isn’t much that I haven’t seen or dealt with before. I think I can handle a little throw up.”

Tommy offers up the remainder of his coffee, still warm as you bring it to your lips and savor the rich taste—it was much more your style, full of cream and sugar to the point where it might rot your teeth out.

And the day proceeds without problem, moving through the motions of the tasks Tommy had assigned you yesterday, along with feeding some of the other animals littered around the farm. Horses, cows, goats—it was a wonder how they kept up with it by themselves. They were capable, but it seemed like too much for just two people. Regardless, it was impressive.

By evening, Tommy was pulling in with a truck full of secured and banded boxes on the trailer and Joel resurfaces from the barn by then, reeking something awful. You turn your nose away and scatter to Tommy’s side, earning a chuckle from the younger brother.

“You get used to it,” Tommy tells you, “like everything else.”

You eye Joel wearily, who seems less than amused. He offers a low grunt of acknowledgement as he stacks the boxes two high and heaves them up and into his arms, ignoring any attempt at small talk with either of you.

You couldn’t be bothered to care, knowing that Joel’s behavior was nothing if not peculiar.

“What’s in the boxes?” You ask when both of the men are reaching for boxes, sliding a smaller one into your own grip. They share a look, uncertainty. Who speaks first? Lie? Truth?

Joel huffs quietly—fine, half-truth.

“It’s stuff for cleanin’ up the barn. All the mess and shit. Interesting enough for you?”

Your nose crinkles at his tone, turning on your heels and heading toward the barn with the men in tow, “You’re snippy today,” you remark at Joel and Tommy hollers out a laugh from behind you, full-bellied and genuine, “when are you gonna give me a tour of it?”

“The what? The barn?” Joel asks for clarification before immediately shutting you down, “Never.”

Tommy shakes his head as he places the box down amongst the others, watching as you two bicker with shared looks and a soft giggle coming from you when you realize just how frustrated Joel had become, “I’m gonna head inside—try not to kill each other, alright?”

When Tommy is finally inside, you place the final box down. Joel was rearranging them silently, occupied with the task as you step backwards slowly, turning your head over your shoulder as you reach for the barn door.

The curiosity was likely to kill you—just a peek, that was it.

The creak pulls Joel’s attention up and he’s on you within seconds, door slamming by your head as his hand pressing against the flat of your chest, fingers itching to squeeze around your throat. You gasp, a guttural noise forced out of you as he pressed you into the hard surface of wood, feeling the splinters dig into your skin.

“What did I fuckin’ say?” He asks. No response. It sets his eyes ablaze, “Answer me, goddammit.”

“Mind—” You gasp again, sharp as his hand presses into your throat now, forcing you to answer, “mind my business.”

“Doesn’t seem like you’re doing much of that right now,” Joel points out, “seems like you’re enjoying pressing that nose into places it doesn’t belong.”

It was a barn, for christ sake. What the hell was he hiding?

“Hey,” you croak, weakly, “don’t kill me, remember? Your brother won’t be too happy about it.”

“That’s only because he wants to fuck you, girl.” He assures you, “You ain’t the first and you won’t be the last.”

Your gaze softens, fingers clawing at his forearm. The disappointment in your eyes was obvious, but a sting to Joel’s ego. Tommy was always the more favored one of the pair, there wasn’t much he could do about it. But, it didn’t soften the blow.

His hold lessens slightly.

“Did you think you were the only little lady that’s come through here that my brother hasn’t tried to sink his teeth into?” Joel grins in amusement, tapping his fingers gently against the side of your cheek. It was patronizing and foolish, but he couldn’t resist teasing you for the dejected look on your face. “I like my privacy, alright? Don’t appreciate it when people invade it.”

You nod quietly, lips opening to offer a weak apology.

“Don’t say sorry,” he tells you, “not when you don’t mean it.”

Instantly, your mouth snaps shut. Joel smirks, satisfied that he was right about that.

You weren’t sorry. You didn’t care. But, you were scared. Eyes still wide as saucers and boring into his own, all blacked out with rage but quickly fading back into their usual warm brown.

“You hungry?” He quickly adverts the topic, pulling at the fabric of your shirt to adjust it back into place like nothing happened, “I’m fixin’ to cook up dinner.”

Two could play at that game.

“Is it gonna make me sick again?”

Joel shrugs, “Might. Might not. You willin’ to take that risk?”

–

You luck out, for the most part. Aside from the dinner being nothing short of delicious, it makes you slightly queasy but it was easily qualmed by a glass of champagne, a nightcap to the work day as Joel has already wandered off to bed after cleaning up, leaving you and Tommy to perch on the stairs out front, a cigarette stuffed between his middle and pointer finger as he flicks off the ash, sipping from his own can of beer.

“I forgot to ask about pay, you know,” You laugh softly, “just…slipped my mind.”

“Weekly,” Tommy answers simply, “every Friday. So, tomorrow?”

You do the mental work in your head, feeling like the days have blurred together. Realistically, it had only been a few but you hadn’t expected how overwhelming those days would be, finally feeling the exhaustion settling in your bones as you rested beside Tommy on the front steps of the Miller home.

“You feelin’ okay?” Tommy asks curiously, beer tipped to his lips as he takes a sip and awaits your response.

“A little queasy?” You’re unsure what to consider it, that unsettling feeling in your gut. You weren’t even sure if it was the food making you feel that way, almost certain that even a single look from Joel would give you the same feeling.

“You’re thinkin’ about it too much,” Tommy points out, “it’ll make it worse.”

You gulp down the rest of the cheap champagne and press the flat stand of glass into the stair besides your bare feet before leaning back on your elbows. Tommy mirrored you, crunching the aluminum can in his hand and tossed it aside.

“Okay, so—distract me,” you responded pointedly, a kind smile sent his way.

Tommy takes a deep puff before you’re plucking the nearly finished cigarette from his fingers and bringing it to your own lips, feeling the nicotine burn your throat. Tommy doesn’t seem fazed at all, used to it.

Maybe Joel wasn’t lying about all those women.

This was a normal routine for Tommy. You were another passerby willing to take the bait.

“You wanna go for a swim?”

Your brow raises curiously, amused.

Tommy looks on, awaiting your response.

“Oh, you’re serious?” You ask, stuttering at the unexpected proposition, “Uh, yeah—sure. I mean…where?”

“It’s a walk, but there’s a lake behind those trees,” Tommy points off to the west, a long and dense line of trees surrounding the edge of the Miller farm, “feelin’ up to it?”

Your mouth waters unpleasantly as you continue to sit with your thoughts, yearning for distraction. You nod.

Tommy grins wide and takes your hand into his own.

He wasn’t lying. Under the moonlight, it was a huge lake with eerily undisturbed water. Pitch black and despite the hot and sticky heat, the water was cool to the touch as you dipped your feet into the shallow edge. Tommy is already wrestling with his belt, shucking his jeans down hastily and it forces you to move, stripping your own clothes off in time with him.

Down to your underwear you edge toward the deeper waters, hissing as more of your skin becomes engulfed in the ice cold plunge, feeling Tommy hover around you as he dipped under the water for a moment of time before emerging in front of you, pushing his damp hair from his face.

The cold water has you frozen, paralyzed.

“Come on,” he jests, “dunk yourself, it’ll help.”

You shake your head hesitantly, managing the inch by inch efforts as you move forward slowly.

“I’ll do it with you.” Tommy suggests, his fingers wrapping around your wrists as he wades the water—you feel yourself rising on your tiptoes to give yourself a few lingering moments before you have to force yourself under.

Tommy doesn’t force you, only waits for your reassuring nod after a long moment of indecisiveness before he’s doing a slow countdown and you’re both slipping under the water.

Moments later, you emerge with a gasp but it is full of elation. Tommy had pulled you out deeper, forcing you to swim until neither of you could touch and you clung to him instinctively, feeling the words that fall from his lips brush the back of your neck, “Distracted enough?”

It had, truthfully. You nod in response, feeling deft fingers at your hips as they turn you, your legs kicking in a melodic synchronicity. His touch lingers for a moment before he’s pushing away, using his arms to gain momentum and swim away, looking over his shoulder with a silent challenge.

Chase him.

You giggle to yourself before following, moving gracefully through the calm waters. It continues like that for a while, minutes passing away effortlessly. The monotone buzz of insects hovering over the lake water and the insistent chirp of the crickets hiding in the grass kept your mind busy. It was peaceful out here, like the rest of the farm.

“So, you grew up here?”

“All my life,” Tommy answers easily, “it isn’t exactly tourist worthy sights out here, but it has perks. Where are you from?”

“Here, there—” you answer noncommittally and shrug, earning a dismissive laugh from Tommy, “everywhere, honestly. I don’t stick around places for very long.”

“Which reminds me,” Tommy interjects, “your car should be fixed up soon—but, if you wanted to stick around—”

“I don’t think Joel would appreciate that,” you respond, feeling the heat of his gaze on you despite the farmhouse being miles away, “besides—I’m just another mouth to feed.”

“Most people who pass through here don’t last more than a day,” Tommy admits, “it may not seem like it, but he’s warmin’ up to you.”

You reminisce on the heat of his palm against your throat.

If looks could kill….

Joel would have maimed you at that moment.

“He’s a dick, but he ain’t immune to pretty girls,” Tommy teases and it makes your gut twist, “we don’t get many women through here anyways—I think he’s just forgotten how to talk to ‘em.”

You think back on Joel’s words again and decide to poke the bear.

Swimming toward the shore you turn your head over your shoulder and speak, “You know, he said this is a bit of a routine of yours,” you begin, “seducing helpless women who come asking for help.”

Tommy rolls his eyes lightheartedly, chuckling at the absurdity of your words.

“Joel told you that?” Tommy inquires, swimming toward you. You turn on your hands, slowly scooting your way upshore with your palms until your ass is pressed against a bed of rocks buried in the dirty, shallow water lapping at your shins. “Honey, it’s been nearly a year since any type of lady came across our farm—and the last one? It was some old lady needin’ a jump on her car.”

Tommy is edging closer now, on his hands and knees as he works his way forward.

“People see the farm and they drive in the other direction,” Tommy admits, “but, not you.”

You lean back slightly as he hovers over you. Your heart pounds in your chest, a salacious grin spreading across his face.

“Helpless, remember?”

Tommy shakes his head slowly, “Ain’t nothin’ helpless about you.”

You bite first, silencing him with a heated press of your lips against his own, your hand curling around the back of his neck and your blunt fingernails pinching at his skin. His hiss turns into a warm chuckle. He spreads his palm out over the inside of your thigh and beckons your legs apart until he can fit between them comfortably before it curls around the side and pulls you back in, your knees barricading his hips.

He coaxes you back, taking the balled up shirt on the shore and sandwiching it between the dirt and your head as he pulls back with a low sigh, eyes half-lidded and switching between your lips and your steady gaze, catching the way your tongue licks at your bottom lip.

“Need a little more distraction?” Tommy asks softly, the fingers on his free hand toying with the waistband of your panties, awaiting the nod of confirmation. It comes without thinking and he’s peeling the fabric off gently, watching as it stuck and rolled against your skin, sopping wet from the lake water as they fall to the ground with a soft squelch.

His fingers curl around the back of your neck, pushing forward in a way that beckons your chin up, meeting his lips in another hot and messy exchange of tongue and sweet, soft sighs breathed into each other’s mouths, feeling the tingly pulse at your core as his fingers drag through the center of your pussy. There was no mistaking the slick that had gathered there amongst your heated exchange, a low hum rumbling in his throat as he leaves you, sinking further and further down your body, eyes locked on your own.

“Open up for me,” he commands gently, his hands curling around your thighs as he settles on his stomach, “fuck—that, just like that. Goddamn girl, she’s glistenin’ for me.”

He chuckles at your meek response, looking away with a subtle smile that made you want to crawl away from him, but he held you firm.

“Nothin’ to be shy about,” he reassures you.

You exhale slowly, a calming breath that quickly melts away as he licks a broad line up your cunt with his tongue, through your folds and slurping up with sweet, sticky slick. You gasp, hands curling into fist helplessly, moaning out into the silent night. There was the softest wisp of a breeze that blew over your skin, prickling your skin. But, it’s beat out by the heat of Tommy’s touch as he pulls your hand to his scalp, silenting guiding you toward his long locks and hoping you get the idea. You curl your fingers into his hair and tug, pulling his motions up toward your clit and he sucks, sucks so hard you think you start to see white before he smooths the intensity out with the gentler licks of his tongue.

It doesn’t take long before you’re coming with a loud moan, nearly uprooting yourself from the ground as he holds you still, the insistent wiggling of your hips from the overstimulation of his tongue enough to make you beg, plead even.

“Tommy, please—stop, s’too much. Too much.” You breath out in a hurry and eventually, a few greedy seconds later, he relents.

He rises with a sated smile sometimes later, watching as you desperately try to catch your breath. Whatever uneasiness you were feeling in your stomach earlier was long, but it didn’t snuff out the mental feeling of it. Fear, worry—like you were being watched.

The weeks beyond that pass with ease, falling into a steady routine.

Your car still sat untouched, but you couldn’t find it in you to be a pest about it—things were going well, a steady paycheck and roof over your head. You could bother them about it eventually, but not now. Not while things were good.

By October, the air is cooler and the work is easier to handle. Sometimes you help Tommy on the administrative end, filing away paperwork with information that doesn’t make much sense to you, as much as you try to piece it together. But, you do know they’re bringing in money. And lots of it. Absurd amount, actually. You don’t press Tommy on it either, worried that it would pop the pristine bubble around you both.

He was smitten, kind—sometimes he would sneak into your room at night instead of the latter for you, tiptoeing around Joel in the chances he might have something, anything to say. He’d lied to you about Tommy for his own benefit—but why? You tried not to dwell on it.

But, eventually you find yourself around Joel more often than not. Or, attending to him.

He still barricades himself in the barn most days, only popping his head out as he calls for things—but there’s one particular evening where things, usually calm, fly off the rails.

Mentally, at least.

And it isn’t the most auspicious way to let you in on their secret, but Joel can’t seem to rid himself of you. You’re always there, lingering, and even if you weren’t certain of things, suspicion had been raised long ago.

You weren’t even sure what you were trying to confirm, or if Joel’s unsettling nature was just a ploy to scare you into behaving, but you could feel it. Something was up.

He’s tasked you with feeding the pigs a number of times—it’s always gross and messy and not a favorable task by any means, fortunately you’re used to it. But, a large, stray rock buried in the dirt robs you of normality and the bin of bloodied scraps spills out as you land on your hands and knees, the skin scraping off your shins against the rough ground and a loud hiss slips beyond clenched teeth as you scramble to get back on your feet, looking around in desperation and hoping that neither of the brothers had witnessed your misstep.

Your nose scrunches up in disgust as you hold back a gag, scooping the discarded scraps back into the bin, the meat like mush beneath your fingertips and you reach for a bigger chunk, immediately startled by the more solid texture of it.

Joel usually grinded up the meat, making it easier for the pigs to consume. But this, it was a whole and solid chunk. You push the bin away gently and swipe away the chunks of congealed blood and fat and rub your thumb over the texture of it. Thick, solid. The color was dull and pale but there was no mistaking it. It was skin, but more notably amongst that was the tattoo. It clearly wasn’t the full piece, a couple letters surrounded by an intricate design where it was precisely sliced.

You’ve heard of people using pig skin for tattooing, wondering if Joel was taking up a side hobby amongst the already interesting career path he had taken, but something doesn’t sit well.

Five pigs, that was how many you’d seen since you arrived. You push the bin weakly toward the pin on your hands and knees until you can find the strength to dump it into the trough, allowing the metal to clatter to the ground carelessly as the pigs flood to their food. One, two, three…and two stragglers trotting over leisurely. Five pigs, not a single one missing.

The creak from the barn has you peering quickly over your shoulder, eyes landing on Joel as he leaned around the door, a perturbed look on his face. You thought it was worry for a split second and as he came closer—curious and cautious over the loud noises he had heard when his saw cut dead—it was.

He spots the blood on the ground first, a mess you had made. His eyes follow the trail of blood to the pin before they travel over you, covered in the rest of what didn’t make it inside the trough and then your legs—you don’t feel the sting until he kneels, his fingers running over your knees, tiny bits of dirt and gravel buried in the wound as his fingers continue down your shin. His eyes scan the expanse of the property before they’re locked back on you.

“Get inside,” It was a cold demand, detached and emotionless but you can’t move, frozen with a fear that didn’t hit you until Joel’s fingers touched your skin, “go on—you can walk, can’t you?”

Vehemently, you swallow down the lump in your throat. Human skin, not pig skin. You weren’t feeding the pigs scraps of other animals—it was humans. Weeks of clueless wandering, the itching feeling of uneasiness was confirmed for you in seconds. The bile in your stomach was threatening to escape as you walked on wobbly legs to the house, falling down into a chair tucked under the dining table, flexing shaky fingers into fists over and over, slowly in an effort to calm yourself alongside your practiced breaths.

Tommy wasn’t here. He would’ve come running otherwise—you vaguely remember the truck missing as you made your way inside, wondering how distracted you had to be to not realize he left. You hear Joel clearing his throat as he approaches the door, swinging it open harshly as it nearly pops off its hinges.

You make the effort to move, but Joel is quick to snap at you.

“Stay put,” He commands, eyes washing over your stoic expression.

You must’ve been a sight, wide-eyed and disturbed, following Joel’s every move. You were covered in a mix of your own blood and someone else’s—maybe not even one, it could be multiple. Joel seems to sense your stomach turning and lunges toward the trash bin in the kitchen and quickly shoves it in front of you, barely catching the vomit that spills from your throat as you retch your breakfast up forcefully.

Joel moves quietly amongst your sickened state, grabbing a few supplies that he slides onto the table beside you and waits, kneeled down at near eye level as you peer up, wiping the string of spit from your mouth and he looks enthralled, wondering what had caused such a chaotic string of events to unfold.

“You’re upset,” He notes, ripping open a package of cotton balls and pouring a handful onto the table, popping open the cap of isopropyl alcohol, dosing the cotton before he was pressing it into your leg without warning, earning a sharp whine of pain from you.

Was he expecting a different reaction?

“Fuck!” You shout, shoving the trash can aside as your fingers dig tightly into Joel’s shoulder, earning a fiery look from the man—but if he wasn’t willing to give you sympathy, you weren’t going to return the favor, “—you are too, are we pointing out the obvious?”

His fingers drag along the back of your calf, position your heel against his hips as allows no relief, haphazardly pouring a small amount of alcohol against the wound and you grip the wood of the chair so hard you swear you hear it crack.

“Jesus, ease up,” you snap at him, “I fell, I fucked up. I’m sorry, is that what you wanted to hear?”

“What’re you apologizin’ for?”

There’s a distinct rip of tape as you watch Joel smooth the gauze over your shin, securing the bandage over the wound before he works carefully at your knee, cleaning the cut before leaving it alone and moving to the opposite leg.

“Are you not mad at me?”

Joel chuckles dismissively, eyes flicking up toward you briefly, “Not everything is about you, girl.”

Fed up and simmering with your pain, you don’t think and the words slip from your lips before you can stop them, “Is it about Tommy then?”

Joel’s hands still, stopping the slow dragging lotion down your wound as he tilts his head up at you curiously, “You think I’m jealous of that little thing you got going on with my brother?” Joel shakes his head in amusement, his teeth peeking out beyond his grin, “I don’t get jealous. If I want somethin’, I’ll take it.”

The words pierce your chest, knowing there was deeper meaning beyond those words but you look away carelessly, feeling his less than gentle press into your skin as he continues.

“Business is slow, I don’t like it.” Joel admits, hearing the hesitancy in his voice as he admits it, but it seems harmless. In his mind, you have no clue of the nefarious nature behind their work.

Except, you do. Or at least you think you do.

“Is there any way to fix that?”

Joel shrugs, “Tommy’s workin’ the people around town, doing all the talking. We’ll see if it works.”

You have two choices.

Admit what you found or bide your time, poke around and see what you can find—you know that won’t go over well with Joel, or Tommy, even. So, you call his bluff.

Because something—be it Joel or that sinking feeling in your chest, tells you that whichever path you take would lead down the same road. You weren’t leaving here without a fight.

“Does the body reject it the first few times?”

You ignore the way your voice shakes, the recognition sitting with you, knowing that they had fed you the meat without your consent. Tommy, too. He’d sat there at the dinner table and tore into the meals all the same, less intrigued as his counterpart, but he was still an accomplice.

Joel’s expression changes, like switch flips. Bandaging up the opposite leg he rises, answering with a clipped, “Yeah.”

Silence amongst the clattering of items as Joel piled them into his arms and stored them away, another question slips past your lips.

“Was it on purpose?”

Joel’s brow raises, but he doesn’t answer.

“The tattoo,” You explain, “did you want me to find it? Or did you fuck up?”

At those words, he lunges. His hands grip the table behind you, pinning you against the chair as you lean back and look up, feeling the deep rumble in his chest.

“I don’t fuck up,” Joel retorts and your eyes stray from his hardened gaze, “No—look at me. Now.”

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip harshly, but you listen.

“You knew,” Joel challenges, “long before that, I’m sure. You could’ve ran if you wanted, granted you’ve got that busted car out front, but you could’ve ran. Hell, you could have while you were outside just now—but you listened to me.”

You know what angle he’s pushing, backing you into a corner and you feel it, that tingling feeling of guilt in your gut. He was right, you could have.

“What are you hidin’ in there?” He presses, eyes narrowing as his pointer finger taps gently at the center of your forehead, “I’m telling you we’re murderers, cannibals, and you haven’t screamed or shed a tear. You aren’t scared of me, are you?”

You shake your head and Joel speaks again, “Scared of dying though, right? What’s stoppin’ me from killing you? Tommy ain’t here.”

The finger on your forehead follows down the center of your face until Joel can reach your chin, tilting it upwards.

“You like it here, don’t you?”

There was no nod, but the subtle twitch in your cheek as you bite down hard on the inside of it was enough of an answer for Joel. Don’t give him those words, don’t give him the satisfaction.

“You killed before?”

Another question that goes unanswered, but your actions give you away.

You twist away, desperate to flee his touch. Joel isn’t done with you yet, one hand pressed against his knee as he leans down to your level and the other grabbing for your face, forcing you to look at him.

Admittedly, they weren’t all bad men. Some of them had tried to attack you on the road and ended up at the wrong end of a blade, but others—the few with bad timing and things you needed…it was collateral, in your eyes. Seven of them that you can remember, all unsuspecting men with an eye for the meek and defenseless.

You snarl slightly, fighting against his hold but Joel is stronger, much stronger.

“Knew you’d be useful,” Joel admits, “s’why I let you stick around. You got that…look about you.”

Your brow furrows in a mix of disgust and confusion and you catch the way Joel spaces out for a moment, admiring your expression and you twist, shoving him hard with both hands in an attempt to send him stumbling back. It only forces him off-balance and your attempt to flee is stopped by his large, bear-like grip on your forearm as he throws you against the wall, knocking the air from your lungs.

“Nuh uh,” Joel mocks, “can’t letcha go that easy, sugar.”

Joel's grip on your wrist is deadlocked, crossing your arms over your chest tight, pressing himself against you. Under this light, this closeness, you notice the small scars, years of healing left it fading into the skin and Joel notices you admiring for a brief moment—incredibly brief as your teeth clamp down around the side of his hand. Hard. It breaks through the skin and forces blood to spill from his hand and pool into your mouth before he pulls the wounded hand back and balls it into a fist, freezing as you spit his blood back into his face, an instant chuckle ripping from his throat.

“There you are, ya little killer,” He goaded, his eyes ticking up at the sound of a car door slamming outside and a wide grin spreading across his face, “well, isn’t that some fine timing.”

The door swings open a second later and Joel has already pushed away from you, nursing his flesh wound with a dry, clean kitchen towel, leaving Tommy to examine you both with a less than auspicious gaze, blood ringing your mouth and a smug expression on his brother's face.

You approach Tommy hesitantly, reaching for the door with a worried gaze but his hand comes up too, slamming against the flimsy frame and preventing you from roaming further.

“Can’t let you out, honey,” he apologizes, his voice more sincere than you’ve ever heard it to be before his head turns up toward his brother, waving around a white envelope addressed out to the both of them, “we gotta figure somethin’ out.”

He tosses the letter on the dining table and slides his hand down your forearm, a softer grip than his counterpart but it didn’t leave room for argument, jostling you around until he could get the front door locked, dead-bolted, and secured.

“This is home now, baby.” Tommy soothes.

Because really, where else did you have to go?

#joel miller x reader #tommy miller x reader #joel x reader x tommy #joel miller smut #tommy miller smut #joel miller x you #tommy miller x you #joel miller x y/n #tommy miller x y/n #the last of us fic #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #cannibalism tw #my writing #wouldn't be me without a fucked up concept

435 notes · View notes

wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 2 months ago

Text

Road Trip

Mean!Mommy!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Word count: 1.1K

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Watersports, power dynamics, humiliation, degradation, desperation, emotional manipulation

Authors notes: I need Mean!Mommy!Wanda to tell me when I can and can't go

The car hummed along the highway, the gentle rhythm of the tires against the asphalt doing nothing to soothe your growing discomfort. You shifted in your seat for what felt like the hundredth time, biting your lip as you stole a glance at Wanda. Her eyes were fixed on the road, her grip on the steering wheel firm. She looked as calm and composed as ever, completely unbothered by your squirming beside her.

You had refused to go to the bathroom at the last rest stop, stubbornly insisting that you didn't need to. But now, a few hours later, you were regretting that decision. The pressure in your bladder was becoming unbearable, and every bump in the road made you wince. You felt as if she was doing it on purpose. Swerving more to hit the potholes rather than avoid.

"Mommy, I really have to go..." you finally whispered, your voice shaky.

Wanda didn't even glance at you, her lips curling into a smirk. "Oh? Now you have to go?" Her tone was mocking, her eyes still focused ahead. "I told you to go earlier, but you insisted you didn't need to. So, you'll just have to hold it."

You whimpered softly, your thighs pressing together as you tried to find some relief. But it was no use. The need to go was overwhelming, and Wanda's cold refusal only made it worse. You couldn't help but squirm in your seat, desperate for any kind of reprieve.

"Stop moving so much," Wanda snapped, her tone sharp. "You're distracting me."

You froze, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as you tried to stay still. But it was so hard. The pressure was building, and you felt like you were going to burst.

"Please, Mommy..." you begged, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wanda let out a sigh, finally glancing at you with a look of mild annoyance. "Fine," she said after a moment, her tone clipped. "But you'll have to wait until the next rest stop. And if you complain one more time, you'll have to hold it even longer."

You nodded quickly, relief washing over you despite the lingering discomfort. You'd just have to hold on a little longer. But as Wanda's attention returned to the road, the minutes seemed to stretch into eternity, each second a test of your willpower. You were desperate, but you knew better than to push Wanda any further. All you could do was hope the next rest stop would come soon.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

You shifted again in your seat, trying to ease the unbearable pressure, when suddenly you felt Wanda's hand leave the steering wheel. You froze, heart pounding as her fingers brushed against your thigh, creeping up until they hovered just above your bladder.

"Wanda, please..." you whispered, your voice shaky with desperation, but she ignored your plea, her eyes never leaving the road.

A wicked smile played on her lips as she pressed down firmly on your bladder. The sudden pressure made you gasp, your body instinctively jerking forward as you clamped your thighs together, trying to hold back the flood.

"Stop squirming," she commanded, her tone icy as she kept the pressure steady. "This is what happens when you don't listen, darling. You wanted to wait, so now you can suffer the consequences."

You bit your lip, tears welling up in your eyes as you tried to keep still, every ounce of your focus now on holding it in. Wanda's hand didn't let up, the relentless pressure pushing you closer and closer to your limit. She seemed to enjoy your helplessness, her smirk growing wider as you whimpered and trembled beside her.

"Is it too much, sweetheart?" she teased, her voice dripping with faux sympathy. "Maybe next time you'll listen when I tell you to do something. Or maybe..." She pressed down harder, making you cry out softly. "Maybe I'll just keep you like this for a while longer. Teach you a proper lesson."

You couldn't even find the words to respond, too overwhelmed by the desperation and the cruel pleasure she took in your suffering. All you could do was endure, praying that she would finally take pity on you—but knowing deep down that she was far from done playing with her little toy.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

When Wanda finally pulled into the rest stop, relief flooded you. The sight of the building made your legs tremble with anticipation, but the feeling was quickly squashed when Wanda placed a hand on your arm, stopping you from getting out of the car.

"Wait a moment," she said coolly, reaching into the backseat to rummage through one of the bags. You watched with growing anxiety as she took her time, finally pulling out something and slipping it into her purse. She didn’t say a word, just nodded towards the restroom with a smirk, her eyes glinting with something that made your heart race.

You followed her, your steps hurried, but Wanda kept a steady pace. She didn’t seem to be in any rush, and the way she sauntered towards the restroom only heightened your desperation. Finally, you both entered, and you made a beeline for the nearest stall, but as you reached to pull down your pants, Wanda's firm hand grabbed yours, halting you.

"No, baby," she said, her voice low and authoritative. The words sent a shiver down your spine. "Go just like that. I grabbed an extra pair for you."

Her command echoed in your ears, the weight of it pressing down on you as you stood there, frozen. You were too desperate to argue, too desperate to even think. The pressure in your bladder had reached its limit, and your body ached for relief.

"Go on," she urged, her voice softer now but no less commanding. Her eyes locked onto yours, daring you to disobey.

With a trembling breath, you nodded, the tears finally spilling over as you surrendered to her will. The humiliation washed over you, but the desperation overpowered everything else. You couldn’t hold it any longer, and with a soft whimper, you let go, feeling the warm wetness soak through.

Wanda’s gaze never left you, and as you finished, she leaned in close, her lips brushing against your ear. "Good girl," she whispered, her tone dripping with satisfaction. "I knew you’d do as you were told."

She pulled back, reaching into her purse to retrieve the spare pair of clothes. "Now, let’s get you cleaned up," she said, her voice calm and composed as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. "We still have a long drive ahead, and I expect you to behave."

#ley writes #ley writes one shots #leys kinktober writing #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #mean!mommy!wanda maximoff #mommy!wanda maximoff x fem!reader #mommy wanda #sub!fem!reader

712 notes · View notes

hxxsxxng · 4 months ago

Text

NEED YOU BADLY p.sh

「pairing 」 : boyfriend!sunghoon x fem!reader

「genre 」 : fluff, literal bare minimum smut

「word count」 : 1.1k

「synopsis」 : after dinner and a night out in the town, you and sunghoon drive up to your favorite spot

「warnings」 : established relationship, making out, pet names, clothed clit stimulation, clothed grinding, stuff done in a car

「authors note」 : i have been loving writing for sunghoon and all of my sunghoon stan followers<3 feedback is appreciated SUPPORT BY REBLOGGING

「taglist 」 : @jakeflvrz

The city lights blurred past us as Sunghoon navigated his sleek black BMW through the streets. I couldn't help but steal glances at him, admiring his sharp profile illuminated by the passing streetlights. His hooded eyes were focused on the road, a slight smile playing on his lips. The soft hum of the engine and the gentle vibration of the car created a comfortable environment.

I shifted in my seat, the fabric of my dress rustling softly. The night air coming through the cracked window carried the scent of rain. contrasting to Sunghoon's cologne that filled the car with notes of sandalwood and citrus.

"Did you enjoy dinner, angel?" Sunghoon asked, his deep voice breaking through my reverie and sending a shiver down my spine. His eyes briefly flicked to me before returning to the road, but even that fleeting glance was enough to make my heart race.

I nodded, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. "It was perfect, Sunghoon. Thank you." My voice came out softer than I intended, betraying the depth of my emotions.

He reached over and took my hand, intertwining our fingers. The warmth of his palm against mine sent sparks through my body. "Anything for you, doll," he said, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of my hand.

As we drove further from the heart of the city, the buildings grew sparse and the roads darker. The transition was gradual but noticeable – fewer cars on the road, dimmer streetlights, and an increasing number of trees lining the streets. I knew where we were headed – our special spot on the outskirts of town, secluded and private. My heart raced with anticipation, a mix of excitement and nervousness swirling in my stomach.

Sunghoon pulled off the main road onto a hidden dirt path, the car's headlights cutting through the darkness. The subtle bump as we transitioned from asphalt to dirt sent a jolt through me, heightening my senses. The trees parted, revealing a clearing that overlooked the twinkling city below.

He parked the car, the engine's purr fading to silence. The sudden quiet was deafening, broken only by the sound of our breathing and the distant hum of the city. Sunghoon turned to me, his eyes dark and intense, reflecting the starlight that filtered through the windshield.

"You look beautiful tonight, babygirl," he murmured, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered on my cheek, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

“Thank you” I said, trying to hide my face.

His eyes widened slightly, a mix of surprise and desire flashing across his face. He unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned across the center console, capturing my lips in a kiss. The passion behind it took my breath away, making my head spin and my heart pound.

I melted into him, my hands finding their way to his soft black hair. My fingers tangled in the silky strands, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, our lips moving in perfect synchrony, a dance we had perfected over the years but one that never lost its magic. Every brush of his lips against mine sent shivers down my spine.

Sunghoon pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against mine. Our breaths mingled in the small space between us. He brought his fingers between my legs, over my clothed center. "Are you sure, angel?" he asked, his voice husky with desire but tinged with concern.

I nodded, unable to form words. The intensity of my desire for him overwhelmed me, leaving me breathless and needy. My fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him back to me, our lips meeting again.

He circled his fingers slowly across my covered bud, cause me to quietly whimper in pleasure.

With a swift movement, Sunghoon reclined his seat and pulled me onto his lap. I straddled him, my dress riding up slightly as I settled against him. My hands rested on his broad shoulders, feeling the strong muscles beneath his shirt. The new position brought us impossibly closer, and I could feel the rapid beating of his heart against my chest, as well as his length pressing against my core.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" Sunghoon murmured, his hands tracing patterns on my waist. His touch, even through the fabric of my dress, sent sparks of electricity coursing through me. "Every day, I fall more in love with you."

"I love you too, Sunghoon. So much."

Our lips met again, this time slower, deeper. Each kiss was a promise, a declaration of love that words couldn't fully express. Sunghoon's hands roamed my back, pulling me closer, as if he couldn't bear even the slightest distance between us. I ran my fingers through his hair, down his neck, across his shoulders, memorizing every plane and curve of his body.

As our kisses grew more heated, I felt myself getting lost in the moment, in the sensations, in Sunghoon. The windows of the car fogged up around us. I subconsciously started to grind my hips against Sunghoon, creating friction for my needy core.

Time seemed to stand still in our bubble. I couldn't tell if minutes or hours had passed. The only measure of time was the steady beat of Sunghoon's heart against mine and the rhythm of our synchronized breaths.

Eventually, we pulled apart, both of us breathing heavily. I rested my forehead against his shoulder, trying to catch my breath. Sunghoon's hands rubbed soothing circles on my back, his touch now comforting rather than igniting.

When I finally looked up, I couldn't help but giggle. Sunghoon's usually perfectly styled hair was now a mess, sticking up in all directions thanks to my wandering hands. His lips were swollen from our kisses, and there was a dazed look in his eyes that I'm sure mirrored my own.

"What's so funny, doll?" he asked, a playful glint replacing the haze in his eyes.

I ran my fingers through his hair, attempting to smooth it down. "Nothing. You just look cute like this." I bit my lip, trying to suppress another giggle.

He raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a smirk. "Cute? I was going for handsome."

I laughed, the sound filling the car and lightening the intense atmosphere. "That too," I conceded, planting a quick kiss on his nose.

Sunghoon's expression softened, his hands coming up to cup my face. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as he traced the contours of my cheeks with his thumbs. "I love you so much," he said, his voice filled with emotion. The intensity in his eyes took my breath away. "I hope you know that."

538 notes · View notes

coff33andb00ks · 5 months ago

Text

Rule Breaker - Pt 5

max Verstappen x single mom!reader (with logan sargeant)

{masterlist}{prev} {next}

warnings: cursing, minimally proofread, disgusting amount of fluff Summary: Max has it all...right? Besides, he's too busy collecting trophies and completing side quests for anything else. Until... You moved across a whole ass ocean to start over, uprooting you and your son's lives to become social media admin for cars that drive in circles. word count: 4153 auth.note: logan girlies rise up, new banner, also broke this into two parts for reasons, this is a poly fic now and I need to update the summary too don't I spotify: i made a playlist

Kevin sighed heavily, his breath fogging the window. Wiping it away with his hand, he kept staring outside. As though by sheer willpower he could change the weather. "It's rained all day."

Max chuckled, swirling his coffee in his cup. "I know, maate. But it's getting better now, yeah?"

The boy shrugged, turning and jumping down from the sofa. Max knew he had to be bored. There were only so many races and demolition derbies he could put together with the few toy cars he'd brought. The tablet he sometimes played on was charging, and they'd already watched two movies since that morning.

Sighing, Max finished his coffee in one gulp and set his cup down. "Right, come on."

Kevn looked confused, even when Max shrugged on his coat and reached for Kevin's boots. "Where we going?"

"Anywhere but here." Max grinned as the boy rushed to him, nearly falling over as he tried to shove one of his feet into a boot. "We'll go out in the rain, yeah?" he suggested, helping him get his boots on then his raincoat. "It's just a little water."

"Can we splash?" Kevin asked hopefully as he skipped to the stairs.

"Wouldn't be a walk in the rain without a splash," Max promised, picking him up and carrying him until they were outside. Kevin immediately pushed the hood of his coat back, closing his eyes and giggling as the rain landed on his face.

He made sure to get plenty of pictures for y/n of Kevin riding his scooter along the asphalt, and of him trying to jump hard enough to make the puddle water splash above his head. And then he had to do it himself, the boy's childish glee contagious to the point his side ached from laughing. The rain let up and Max knew he had to be ready to go back inside but no, it was time to hunt for wildlife. His shoes squished with water at each step as he held onto Kevin's hand, letting the boy lead him to where they'd spotted groundhogs earlier in the day.

"What if they drowned?" Kevin asked worriedly a few moments later, wringing his small hands and looking down into the flooded hole at the base of the barrier.

"I'm sure they didn't, mate. They're smart, yeah?" Max squatted down, looking at the hole. "They know how to get away from the rain."

"They're on the other side of the wall," a voice said behind them.

Max wanted to be annoyed at the interruption. But Kevin's face lit up at the sound of Logan's voice, and within seconds he was trying to scale the wall.

"I'm too small." Kevin's voice was mournful and accompanied by a world-weary sigh.

"C'mon, I'll hold you up." Logan extended his hands, giving Max a quick nod as he lifted Kevin.

Straightening, Max moved over to peer over the wall, seeing one of the groundhogs creeping away. "See, little mate? They're fine."

Kevin looked and sounded relieved, waving at the animal though it didn't seem to care. "I like animals, Mister Logan."

"Country kid. There's a bunch of geese over on the lake, you wanna go see?" Logan asked.

And he had to tag along. He couldn't just push Kevin into Logan's care, even if the guy was seeing the boy's mom. Kevin chattered nonstop about animals, telling a garbled tale about a goose that had chased him in the park. Squeezing past the turnstile, he waved at the security to indicate the child was with him. Not that he needed to worry, since Kevin already knew the person by name.

"Wow," Kevin breathed in awe as they stepped onto the temporary platform and he saw the dozens of geese gliding over the water.

He looked on as Logan affectionately pushed Kevin's damp hair back from his face, keeping a firm grip on his hand when he walked to the very edge to look down into the water. The breeze sent a chill through him and he worried that Kevin might be cold, too, but didn't want to ruin his fun. Just a few more minutes. It was almost the time y/n had said she'd be done.

"You're good with him," he said to Logan once they were on their way back. He kept his eyes on Kevin, who had gotten back on his scooter and was just ahead, steering so he splashed anyone he passed. But he felt Logan look at him in surprise.

"You think so?" Logan asked.

Max nodded. "He can be a handful, yeah?"

"Yeah, but… He's a good kid." The smile was evident in his voice. "You… You ever think about having kids?"

Only if they looked like… He sighed, nodding. "Sometimes. You?"

"Not really." Logan cleared his throat. "Not until recently."

And now it was time to change the subject. Because—

"You're close with y/n." It wasn't a question.

His stomach twisted. "She's my coworker. An important member of the team."

"Well, yeah, but… You don't watch Checo's kids when they're at the track."

Fucking Americans and their need to point out the obvious. "Okay, so I'm close. I guess I'd consider her a friend." That hurt to say and he didn't want to investigate why. "Why?"

"Maybe you don't know, if you're only – Do you know why she's shy about a relationship?"

Fuck.

"I mean, we've gone out a few times, but." Logan sighed. "I just thought you might know. You're closer to her than anyone else."

"I don't know," Max said, trying his best to not sound annoyed. Watching Kevin, he slowed when the boy stopped to show his scooter off to Oscar. He spotted a Red Bull shirt up ahead and knew it was y/n, was certain when Kevin squealed and took off towards her, leaving Oscar holding his scooter. Stopping, he turned to Logan. "I don't know why, but I think it's because she's a single mom. His dad's not around at all, that's all I know."

Logan nodded. "Thanks, mate."

Max wrinkled his nose. "You've been around Alex and Oscar too much. It sounds weird when you say mate."

"I can't help it," he laughed. "Not enough Americans around here."

"There's a couple," Max said, nodding towards Kevin and y/n, who were slowly heading back towards them. And though it hurt, the words formed in his mouth. And though he didn't want to say them, they came out. "She likes you. Little mate likes you. I think… If you don't push her, it'll work out like it's supposed to."

"Really?" Logan looked over at her, and Max felt the usual bitterness in his chest when he smiled. "Thanks, Max."

It wasn't fair. Max knew that was something that only would be acceptable if Kevin were to say it, because only a three year old could make that statement and not be looked at with disdain. So he kept it to himself, swallowing down the jealousy as Logan moved first, taking up the boy's scooter and meeting y/n and Kevin. He felt unnecessary and wondered why he moved to join them when he could be heading to the motorhome to change his shoes and get ready to go back to the hotel for the night.

She reached out, smiling as she squeezed his arm. "Thanks so much for keeping an eye on him. I can tell he had an amazing time."

Suddenly he didn't feel useless. "We both did, but he was going stir crazy."

"I'm glad you took him out." She looked him up and down while Kevin jumped in a nearby puddle, encouraging Logan to join in. "Did he splash you?"

He looked down and saw the water and bits of mud splashed up his legs. "Ah, a little bit. Then I had to do it myself."

"You did?" she giggled, squeezing his arm again and letting go. "Oh I wish I could have seen that."

"I'll send you the video," he sighed as her hand slid down his arm.

"Mama, gotta pee."

"C'mon, kleine maat." Max reached for him, waving off her insistence that she could do it. "I've got to change anyway. I'll take care of it while you get your stuff packed."

"Thank you, Max," she said softly. "I just need to check in with the other admins about tomorrow then I'll be up."

He nodded, settling Kevin on his hip. The boy wrapped his arms around his neck, head resting on his shoulder as he was carried off. "Toilet then we'll get dry yeah? And—"

"Grote maat?"

"Yeah?"

Kevin sighed and Max wondered if he was just tired. It had been a long day and as far as he knew the boy hadn't had more than a thirty minute nap just after lunch. Or maybe he wasn't sure how to say whatever it was he wanted to say. "Nothin'," he finally mumbled.

"It's something," Max said gently, catching the closing door with one foot and pushing it open so he could enter the motorhome.

"I don't have a daddy," Kevin blurted once they were upstairs and Max was setting him down.

Max blinked, freezing for a few seconds. "Hasn't your mum talked to you about that?"

"No… Yeah. She said…" His face screwed up in thought.

And Max remembered he had to use the toilet. Guiding him into the bathroom, he turned his back to give him privacy, using the time to take off his coat and sodden shoes.

"Laura has a daddy," Kevin announced once he'd flushed.

It took him a couple seconds to remember who Laura was. "Yes… Her dad has the same name as you."

"But he's not my daddy."

"No, he's not," Max sighed. Picking up the discarded raincoat, he threw it over his shoulder and held the boy up at the sink so he could wash his hands. "What did your mum say?"

Kevin drew in a deep breath. "Not everybody gets a mama or a daddy. Some people get both." He shook the water from his hands and stretched to get a paper towel, his expression far too serious for one so young. "I love mama."

Max swallowed the unbidden lump of emotion in his throat. "I know you do, kleine maat. She loves you too."

"Mister Logan likes her."

Max inhaled slowly and let it out even slower. "Yeah, I guess so," he said, setting Kevin down and ushering him from the bathroom. "But that—"

"Do you think he'd be my daddy?"

"I don't—"

"You like mama."

Oh no. No. He had to put a stop to this. "I—"

There was a gentle knock on the door and Max would have gladly kissed whoever was on the other side. "We'll talk later, yeah?" he promised in a rush, moving to wrench open the door and more relieved to see y/n than he should have been.

"Hey," she said, slipping past him. "Alright, doodle bug, let's get ready to go, okay?"

"I'm just gonna… Change," Max said, still numb from Kevin's assertion. Grabbing a clean set of clothes from his suitcase, he carried them into the bathroom and closed the door with a sigh.

Maybe spending so much time with the kid was a bad idea. Obviously he thought that time together equaled a father figure, and since that would never happen, he should pull back. Let her be happy with Logan. Or not. Whichever path she chose wouldn't include him, so there was no need for him to continue to stick around.

He could hear them talking softly, wondered what Kevin was telling her about his afternoon. Wondered what her reaction would be to her son suddenly wanting a father. He had probably brought it up before, so she would just deflect or give him her usual answer, and—

"Max? Have you got his raincoat?"

He blinked, saw the bright blue coat he'd tossed over the sink. "Yeah, sorry. A couple of his cars are in here, too. Just a minute."

"No rush, I'm making him change into dry clothes." Her voice faded as she walked away from the door.

When he came out a few moments later, Kevin was pouting as she worked a comb through his hair. Wordlessly he draped the raincoat over the back of the chair and dropped the cars into Kevin's bag then made sure to give the boy a quick smile while smoothing his own hair.

"Want Mister Max to fix it," Kevin said suddenly and Max grunted in surprise when the boy suddenly bolted towards him.

Y/n shrugged, tossing the comb to him. Sitting back on her heels, she rolled her shoulders then bent to make sure none of Kevin's toys were hiding under the couch.

Kneeling down, Max shared a smile with Kevin and began to gently work the comb through his unruly curls. "Your mum has more experience with this than me," he whispered.

"But she's tired. Work," Kevin whispered back.

He almost laughed, wondering what Kevin considered his own work that day. "Do you know what she does?"

Kevin shrugged. "It's on her phone. Pictures and movies for the online people."

"Bit more than that, but yeah. And she's very good at it," Max promised, focusing on guiding the curls back from the boy's face.

"Can you do it? Or do you just drive?"

So that was what he did. Just drove. "No, I can't do what she does." He felt her watching them and looked over at her. "She's the only one who can do it."

"What are you two talking about?" she asked.

"Taxes!" Kevin answered with a giggle.

Max grinned, shaking his head as he finished combing his hair. Aware of her disbelieving look, he shrugged. "You heard him, we're talking about taxes."

"What about taxes?" She narrowed her eyes.

"They suck," Kevin said with all the certainty only a child could produce.

Max tipped his head. "Exactly."

She snorted, taking the comb and slipping it into her bag. "You're lying but whatever. Let's get your—" She stopped, because Max was already helping Kevin with his raincoat.

"Keep your hood up outside, yeah? You don't want cold ears." Max sat down fully, stretching to get a dry pair of shoes from his suitcase. "Do you need a ride back to the hotel?"

"I was just gonna Uber," she said, zipping up the bag of Kevin's things. "Gotta stop and get some dinner, so—"

"Y/n."

"Hm?" She looked at him as he stood. And sighed. "Okay."

"Okay?"

She nodded. "Okay."

Okay. He cleared his throat and grabbed his jacket. "Unless you and Logan…"

"No." She looked on while he moved to help Kevin with his rain boots. "He's… Got stuff on his mind."

"The car?" Max guessed, seeing her nod. "I don't blame him. It's fucking shit."

"Max!"

"It is," he said with a shrug. "He'd have better luck with a bicycle."

"That might be true, but—"

"He's good," Max told her. "It's not him, it's the team and the cars. They brought him up too soon and when he wasn't immediately amazing they lost faith in him. You can't earn points if the team is constantly shitting on you."

"Max," she hissed.

And he felt himself blush. "Sorry," he mumbled to Kevin.

"Mama says it too," the boy told him.

"The point is—"

"Vowles is stupid, that's what the point is. Instead of supporting his driver he's telling the world he's looking for someone new. He favors Alex, gives him the better car, and leaves Logan to struggle." Max straightened and sighed. "Logan's not perfect on the track, y/n, but he would be improving if his team believed in him and helped him learn."

"I know," she whispered sadly. "He's—" She pressed her lips together. "Are we even supposed to talk about it?"

They probably weren't, but he didn't care. "Doesn't matter. He's what?"

"He's worried about next year. He loves this," she said. "It's what he's worked so hard to get to, and now it's slipping away."

And Max knew she was falling for the American. She, who'd known the man for barely a month, showed more concern for him than the so-called team he drove for. He wondered if Logan had any idea. "I'm sorry," he said softly. When she looked at him doubtfully, he sighed. "I really am, y/n. But we've got more than half the season to go. Don't give up hope, yeah?"

"I'll do my best," she murmured. "I'm sorry, I just—"

"Worry," he finished with a nod. "I know. C'mon, let's go, yeah? Get him some dinner before he falls asleep."

"Not sleepy," Kevin said, ruining the announcement by yawning.

"We were talking about you," Max murmured once they were in the back seat of the car and on their way from the track.

"What?" The fading daylight was just enough for him to see her look over at him.

"Taxes."

"Oh." She chuckled, shifting Kevin in her lap as he leaned against her. "That's what I always tell him when me and Ellie are talking about something I don't want him to know."

"Good idea." He looked down at his phone, replying to the messages he'd been ignoring from his father. "Did you know I just drive?"

"Yeah, you should really start doing Uber," she teased.

He snorted. "Sixty or seventy laps, three hundred kilometers an hour. Practically a Sunday drive in the country."

"Well… Isn't it usually?"

"You're not funny," he muttered, ignoring his fathers lengthy questions about strategy and stats for the weekend and opening his messages with Christian.

"I'm hilarious. You just have no sense of humor."

"The groundhogs at the track are funnier than you – Ay!" he laughed when she shoved his shoulder.

"You're such an ass, Max."

"Y/n," he gasped in mock shock, pointedly looking at Kevin.

Kevin, who was almost asleep.

"Fine, you're such a butt, Max," she corrected.

To his delight, they playfully bickered all the way to the restaurant she'd ordered their dinner from. And from there all the way to the hotel. It was fun and playful, and kept Kevin from falling asleep, and he reveled in making her laugh so hard as they climbed out of the car at the hotel, turning to get Kevin. Max waved her off, holding the boy and pausing to greet some of the fans waiting, ignoring their questions about who Kevin was. He had a sinking feeling that the photos – and movies, as Kevin called them – would be plastered online before he reached the elevator and wondered if he should have let her carry her son inside. But she had to know it would happen, and he could only hope the fans online would be polite.

"Thanks, Max," she said when he carried Max into her hotel room. He opened his mouth to say she was welcome, but she continued, "I don't mean just this. You've done more than anyone would have expected you to for me the past couple days."

While she spoke she unpacked her and Kevin's food, and Max instinctively moved to help Kevin out of his boots and jacket, sending him to the bathroom to wash his hands. "I really don't mind."

"You sure?" she asked, looking up from her phone.

"I like—" he stopped when there was a knock on the open door.

Apparently Logan didn't have too much stuff on his mind. Exchanging a nod in greeting, Max looked away, his lightened mood dimming as y/n spoke to him, insisting he come in and eat, she'd gotten an extra burger. Despite Logan's assertion that he was fine, she had him seated at the small table in no time and Max wondered how it felt, to be fussed over so affectionately. Kevin, even though he was tired, greeted the man with exuberance, and at least he knew what that was like, and wondered if he looked that happy when the boy climbed into his lap.

"I should get going," he said, feeling like a third wheel. Like he was intruding on a private moment.

She looked ready to say he didn't have to, but nodded. "Okay. Thanks again, Max."

"Anytime," he promised.

"How do I look?"

"Amazing."

Y/n huffed. "You didn't look!"

"Sorry!" Ellie turned from the counter and her eyes widened. "Holy shit."

"Too much?" she fretted, tugging at the hem of the black dress. She would swear it had been a few inches longer in the shop.

"What's the end goal for tonight?" her friend asked.

"Dinner?" she answered slowly.

"And what else?"

She sighed. "It's just dinner, El."

Ellie leaned to make sure Kevin wasn't coming into the kitchen and lowered her voice. "Have you slept with him yet?"

"Ellie."

"I'll take that as a no." Ellie nodded. "Then it's perfect."

"What does that mean—"

"He's tall, so put on your highest heels. And since your tits are out and we're not in Carolina, grab my shawl. That blue one, it looks great with your eyes."

"My tits are not out."

"Please, one good sneeze and you'll be flashing him." Ellie smiled knowingly. "It's okay to want to have sex, you know."

Y/n huffed again, reaching to run her hands through her hair but stopping when she remembered how long she'd worked on the simple updo. So she settled for an annoyed gesture. "I know that. I just – He – I'm – El, it's been four years. And last time—"

"Not every guy is a Josh," Ellie said gently. "Give yourself some credit, babes. You were young and a little dumb, and now you're older and wiser."

"I know," she sighed.

"You worry too much. You like Logan, he likes you. He and Kevin like each other. You've been seeing him for over a month now."

Nodding, y/n opened her mouth. But her best friend kept talking.

"He's a good guy. Stop holding him at arm's length."

"But what if—"

"What if you let yourself have a little fun for the first time since you got pregnant with Kev? What if you put yourself first even if it's just for one night? What if you have the best night that makes the four hours of getting ready worth it? What if—"

"Okay, okay, okay! Point made," she said with a groan. "It was three hours."

"You really hate admitting when I'm right." Ellie crossed the small kitchen and hugged her. "You look great, sweetie. He'll drool even more than he already does when he sees you."

"Ew…"

"Fine." Ellie squeezed her tight. "No woman has ever looked more gorgeous than you look tonight, and no woman ever will. Traffic will stop, heads will turn, and everyone who sees you will wish they could be graced with one of your smiles."

"That's better." She laughed softly, hugging her friend back. "Okay, he should be here soon, I've got to get my shoes."

"And the shawl."

And the shawl. By the time she found it in Ellie's closet she was nervous, palms sweating as she fixed it around her shoulders and checked and rechecked and then triple-checked her appearance in the full length mirror. He was there, she could hear him talking to Kevin and she took several calming breaths, jumping when Ellie entered her bedroom.

"Here," her friend said, reaching to slip something into her purse.

"What—"

"Just in case. He is from Florida."

Y/n looked at what she'd dropped inside and slapped her friend's arm. "Ellie."

"Come on, before Kevin gets him to watch Cars again."

Sighing, she nodded and closed her purse after making sure she had everything. Logan was on the sofa with Kevin and her breath caught a little, both at how patiently he was listening to her son 'read' his book and at how handsome he was. She was so used to seeing him dressed casually so each time he wore something other than jeans and a hoodie it was a pleasant surprise.

"You look gorgeous," he said when they were outside. He'd said great upstairs and she still felt the surge of feminine adrenaline over how he'd stared for a full ten seconds before speaking.

"Thank you." His palm burned the small of her back as he guided her to the waiting car, and when he opened the door for her he sighed her name. She wondered if it was a good thing to start a date with a kiss and decided that it was. Because it made her feel gorgeous. Great. Beautiful.

Wanted.

Driving to the restaurant, his hand strayed to her knee and she covered it with hers, meeting his eyes when he stopped the car.

"Are we still figuring it out?" he asked softly, turning his hand and lacing their fingers together.

"I think we already have," she answered, swallowing when his hand squeezed.

Wondering why it wasn't as scary as she'd thought it would be.

Taglist:

#f1 #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #max verstappen #logan sargeant #max verstappen fic #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #logan sargent x reader #my writings > mv > rulebreaker

612 notes · View notes

valkyriexo · 7 months ago

Text

You have the Flu | Felix

ᑉ³pairing; Felix x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Sickfic, Comfort, Fluff,

ᑉ³warnings; use of pet names

ᑉ³Authors Note; Other members coming soon!

As you leave the office, the weight of the day begins to lift. You're looking forward to heading home, maybe even curling up with a good book or binge-watching your favorite show. It's been a long week – Thursday afternoon, the anticipation of the impending weekend is palpable, yet one more day of work still looms ahead.

The rain catches you off guard, a sudden onslaught that seems to mirror the weight of the week you've just endured. Dark clouds hang low in the sky, casting a somber shadow over the bustling streets below. The sound of raindrops hitting pavement fills the air, drowning out the usual cacophony of city life.

You hadn't expected rain today – hadn't bothered to check the weather forecast, too consumed by the demands of work to think about anything else. Now, you find yourself standing on the sidewalk, unprepared and unprotected against the elements.

The air is thick with the scent of wet asphalt and the sound of rain hitting the pavement is a constant, soothing rhythm.

With a heavy heart, you reach into your pocket for your phone, hoping to call for a taxi and escape the downpour. But as you bring it out, you notice the battery icon blinking ominously – a glaring red warning that it's about to die.

You curse under your breath, frustration mounting as you realize the extent of your predicament. Without a working phone, you're stranded in the rain, with no means of summoning help or seeking shelter.

Reluctantly, you tuck the phone back into your pocket, resigned to your fate. The cold seeps into your bones as you huddle beneath the feeble shelter of an overhang, watching the world pass by through a curtain of raindrops.

Minutes stretch into what feels like hours as you wait, the anticipation of a taxi's arrival your only source of hope amidst the relentless downpour. With each passing moment, your patience wears thin, your spirits dampened by the relentless assault of rain.

Finally, a taxi pulls up to the curb, and you practically leap inside, grateful for the warmth and shelter it provides.

As you settle into the backseat, you let out a long exhale, feeling a chill creep into your bones. The sound of rain against the windows is muffled now, replaced by the hum of the engine and the soft patter of droplets on the roof.

You give the driver your address and sink back into the seat, closing your eyes for a moment of peace amidst the chaos of the storm. The gentle rocking of the taxi lulls you into a state of calm, the tension in your shoulders slowly melting away.

Outside, the rain continues to fall, a steady rhythm that serves as a backdrop to your journey home. But inside the taxi, you're safe and dry, cocooned in a bubble of warmth and comfort. And you watch as the city lights pass by in a blur of color.

But as the night wears on, you start to feel worse. Your head throbs, your throat feels scratchy, and your body aches all over.

As you stumble through the door of your apartment, you can't shake the feeling of exhaustion that weighs heavily upon you. But you're grateful for the familiar surroundings of home.

Dragging yourself to the bathroom, you strip off your wet clothes and step into the warm embrace of the shower. The hot water soothes your aching muscles, but it does little to ease the pounding in your head or the scratchiness in your throat.

After what feels like an eternity, you emerge from the shower and clumsily towel off. You're too tired to bother with your nighttime routine, so you simply crawl into bed, shivering despite the layers of blankets.

You glance at the clock on the nightstand, its glowing digits informing you that it's now 9:26 PM. Your phone, now charging, sits on the nightstand, but you can't summon the energy to check it. Instead, you drift off into a fitful sleep, the fever burning through your body like wildfire.

As you slowly awaken from your fever-induced slumber, you're greeted by the persistent pounding on your door. Every muscle in your body feels heavy, and the thought of moving seems impossible. You try to call out, You try to call out, but your voice comes out as nothing more than a raspy croak, barely audible even to your own ears.

The persistent pounding on your door feels like a distant echo, a sound from another world intruding upon your fragile consciousness. With each thud, your heart beats a little faster, a sense of unease creeping into the edges of your mind.

The pounding grows louder and more urgent, reverberating through the room like a drumbeat. Then, above the din, you hear the unmistakable sound of keys jingling in the lock, sending a jolt of adrenaline coursing through your veins. Your heart skips a beat as anticipation and anxiety intertwine within you.

Suddenly, the door bursts open, and Felix rushes into the room, his face a whirlwind of emotions – concern, relief, and something else that you can't quite place. His eyes lock onto yours, searching for reassurance amidst the chaos of your fevered state.

"Felix," you manage to croak out, your voice barely above a whisper. Relief floods through you at the sight of him.

"You didn't answer any of my messages or calls," Felix says, his voice tinged with worry as he rushes to your side. "I got really scared when I went to check up on you at work and you weren't there, so I came straight here. Are you okay?"

"Felix," you whisper. "What time is it?"

"It's 3 PM," he replies. "I've been so worried about you. Are you okay? How are you feeling?"

You manage a weak nod, reaching out to grasp his hand. "I... I think I caught the flu. I feel awful."

Felix's expression softens with concern as he feels your forehead. "You're burning up. Let's get you some water and medicine, okay? We'll make you feel better."

You nod gratefully, letting Felix guide you to sit up as he hurries to fetch a glass of water and some fever-reducing medication. As he fusses over you, you can't help but feel overwhelmed by his care and concern.

Felix's brow furrows with concern as he settles beside you, his worry evident in his voice. "How long have you been feeling this way?"

You sigh. "Since last night. I... I think it's because of the rain," you admit reluctantly. "I got caught in it on my way home from work yesterday, and I didn't have an umbrella or anything. By the time I got home, I was already feeling sick."

Felix's expression darkens with concern and a hint of frustration. "You were out in the rain without proper protection, and you didn't say anything?" he asks, his voice tinged with worry and reproach.

"I didn't think it was a big deal," you mumble, feeling ashamed for not taking better care of yourself. "I thought I'd be fine, but... I guess I was wrong."

Felix's features soften as he reaches out to cup your cheek, his touch gentle. "You should have told me, sweetheart," he says softly. "I would have come to get you, or at least made sure you got home safely. I hate seeing you like this."

You nod, feeling tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. "I'm sorry, Felix," you whisper, feeling overwhelmed. "I should have said something. I won't do it again, I promise."

Felix pulls you into his arms, holding you close as he presses a kiss to your forehead. "It's okay," he murmurs, his voice warm and comforting. "Just focus on getting better now, alright? I'll take care of you."

With a tender smile, he rises from the bed and heads to the kitchen, returning moments later with a steaming mug of his favorite tea. Its aroma fills the room, carrying with it a sense of warmth and comfort.

"Here," he says softly, offering you the mug. "This always makes me feel better when I'm under the weather. Maybe it'll help you too."

You take the mug gratefully, the warmth of the tea seeping into your hands.

As you slowly try to drink the tea, your hands trembling slightly from weakness, Felix notices the sadness etched on your face. then, he suddenly disappears into the other room.

A couple minutes later he returns with BbokAri cradled gently in his arms, a soft smile gracing his lips as he approaches you.

"Here," he says gently, placing the plush toy in your hands. "This little guy never leaves my side, but tonight, I want him to keep you company. I thought he might help cheer you up too."

Taking the plush toy into your hands, you can't help but marvel at its softness and the love that emanates from it. As you hold it close, feeling its comforting presence, you notice Felix's gaze lingering on you, filled with concern and tenderness.

Seeing your body tremble with chills, Felix's heart wrenches with concern. "You're so cold," he murmurs. "Let's get you warmed up."

He quickly rises from the bed, leaving you momentarily bereft of his comforting embrace. However, he returns moments later with an extra blanket, which he wraps snugly around you. Then, he retrieves a heating pad, placing it gently near you.

As you shiver from a combination of fever and cold, Felix notices your discomfort. Returning to your side, he slips under the covers beside you, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle embrace. He holds you tightly, his own body heat radiating against yours, as he murmurs soothing words of comfort.

You snuggle closer to him. Felix holds you close, his steady heartbeat a reassuring rhythm against your ear. You hold BbokAri close to your chest, feeling its softness against your skin. Felix wraps his arms around both you and BbokAri, and you feel a sense of safety and security wash over you, banishing the cold and the fear that had gripped you moments before.

Felix presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering as if to convey all the love he holds for you. "I'll do whatever it takes to see you smile again," he murmurs, his voice a gentle caress against your skin. "You mean everything to me, and I can't stand to see you like this."

"Do you want more medicine, or is there something else I can do to ease your discomfort?" he asks gently, his voice filled with a desire to help.

"Having you here, holding me like this," you say softly, "is all the medicine I need."

Felix's smile is tender and full of affection. "I'm glad I can provide some comfort," he replies, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "But if there's anything else I can do, just let me know. I'll bring you more tea, medicine, anything you need. Or we can go on a walk? Get some sunshine and fresh air."

"You already bring the sunshine with you, right here in this room," you say, your voice soft with love.

Felix's eyes shimmer with warmth at your words, a soft glow of affection enveloping him. Pressed against each other for warmth, you drift off into a peaceful sleep, the sound of Felix's steady breathing lulling you into a sense of calm.

442 notes · View notes

dreamsteddie · 4 days ago

Text

Companion piece to my Stobin childhood friends au post because try as I might to resist it, the Steddie brain rot will take over.

Robin and Steve are thick as thieves from that first day of preschool. Their matching friendship bracelets don't fit anymore and have found homes in their "secret friendship treasure chest" which is a shoe box covered in construction paper decorations that lives under Robin's bed so Steve's parents don't throw away any of his "trash" again. They've started a tradition of making a new one for each other at the start of every year so everyone remembers they're best friends, though.

Halfway through first grade (Robin got to start school a year early like the Buckleys hoped) things are going great for Robin. She gets to bring books home from the library and their teacher complimented her drawing of a robin and she helped Steve pass his spelling test last week, so as far as she's concerned this is the best year ever.

Right up until Eddie Munson transfers to their school.

At first, Robin doesn't know that Eddie will be her arch-nemesis. When he's introduced to the class, all she really thinks about him is that he looks a little funny but seems nice. He's got really big eyes and he's taller than most of the other kids with long, gangly limbs. His hair is shaved down to his head, but there are other boys in class who are the same. He gets placed at the table group to the left of them in the chair closest to Steve's.

She very quickly forgets about him as the day continues as normal. Robin thinks math block is boring, she'd much rather read her books or play with Steve at recess but her parents said knowing your shapes is important, so she pays extra special attention. That's why she doesn't catch the little wave Steve, ever the social butterfly, gives to the boy across the way or the way Eddie's eyes go even bigger and a soft blush steals across his cheeks.

What she does notice is when Eddie comes up to them in the last few precious minutes of recess slightly sweaty and out of breath holding a little white daisy.

"Hi! I'm Eddie, I'm new!" he says, shouting really, looking directly at Steve.

"Oh, hi Eddie! I'm Steve, this is my bestest friend, Robin." Steve replies.

"Like the bird?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah! They're orange."

"And I hate orange!" Robin buts in, not willing to be left out of the conversation

"Yeah, it's really sad. They should be blue, that's Robin's favorite color." Steve says, real disappointment creeping into his voice. "Who's that for?" he asks, pointing to the forgotten daisy.

"Oh! It's for you! I was out all recess looking for the best one in the field. They kind of match your shirt!' Eddie says proudly, referencing Steve's polo with the yellow body and white sleeves. It's one of his favorites.

"Really? That's so nice, thank you!" Steve exclaims as he takes the little flower into his hands.

Robin's mom says that sometimes when you want to be someone's friend, it's good to start by giving them something nice. Robin's mom says that she should try and make more friends, maybe some girls instead of just Steve, but when Robin tries to talk to the other girls in class, she gets nervous and clams up. She thinks she might be allergic to them. Plus, why would she need more friends when she has Steve, who is worth at least three normal friends.

Steve gets along with everyone, he lends people erasers and pencils and shares his blocks with the other kids when he's allowed to bring them out of his cubby, but no one is his best friend like Robin is.

No one has ever given Steve flowers before, though. That feels like an extra special kind of gift that someone would give if they wanted to be really good friends, and Robin doesn't want that. Steve is her best friend, he doesn't need another one.

"Steve, we gotta go get in line before all the other kids! We don't want to be last!" she blurts out, grabbing Steve by the hand and dragging him across the asphalt to where the teachers are getting ready to call everyone to get in line before Eddie can catch up.

Once they've got their places, she looks back at Steve behind her to see he's turned around. She peaks her head around him and sees him smiling wide at an equally smiley Eddie who's about 5 kids behind them, each of them waving happily at each other.

Oh yeah, Robin is going to have to keep an eye on him.

#dreamer speaks #steddie #fanfiction #platonic stobin #This is a rivalry that will last their entire life #though after a certain point it will be less serious #In my mind Eddie goes to school with them up until fourth grade #at which point his mother passes and his dad pulls him out of hawkins for a while #Robin and Steve are devestated #they had formed a truce at this point at were the best of friends #he returns in 7th grade #a little different but Steve and Robin #won't let him push them away #Steve and Eddie share their first kiss in freshman year of high school #but don't get together until late junior year #and spend the rest of their lives together

165 notes · View notes

emilys-bangs · 2 months ago

Text

if your cascade ocean wave blues come | e.p

Tags: established relationship, vague details of a case gone wrong, hurt/comfort, fluff, non-sexual nudity, taking a bath, use of petnames, no use of yn, reader feeling guilty

Summary: After a bad case, Emily suggests a bath to get your mind off it. Requested here.

Word count: 2.4k

The unsub is in cuffs, but that doesn’t make you feel any better.

In the jet, you walk past Emily as she sits on the couch—where you usually join her—and make a beeline for the lone seat in the back. It’s nothing against her, but right now you’re desperately craving comfort—her comfort—and you know that if you sat with her you’d cling to her like honey, curling into her lap so she can somewhat ease the tightness in your chest. The case ripped you raw, leaving your emotions splayed out for anyone to see, let alone profilers, and the thought of them seeing you collapse into her makes you shirk away and head to the single seat with steady steps.

Her eyes follow you; you ignore them as you sit down, sure if you looked into the endless depths of them you’d crumble right to the floor. Instead you turn to rest your head against the window and close your eyes.

Even though you do it just to avoid her gaze, sleep takes you quickly. Exhaustion had steadily seeped into your bones throughout this past week, day after day spent trying to catch the unsub who left dozens of bodies in his wake. Now it catches up to you.

Your brief sleep isn’t dreamless. The unsub’s remorseless face swims in your head, his smile slowly creeping over his lips at the sight of your clenched jaw in the interrogation room. He’s smug, boasting the deaths of the slaughtered women whose names you’ve memorized, your shoulders rising up to your ears as you try in vain to get him to reveal your kidnapped victim’s location. Her cold corpse comes next.

Emily wakes you with a silent hand on your shoulder. You startle awake, looking up to find her eyes concerned when you blink up at her sluggishly. The clenched fists in your lap don’t escape either of your attention. You blink the sleep from your eyes as you uncurl your fingers, stifling a wince at the tender imprints of your nails on the heels of your hands.

“Let’s go,” Emily whispers. Your bag is slung over her shoulder, its strap laying on top of the handle of her own bag.

Ridiculously, it makes you want to cry. She holds her hand out for you and her love is so quiet but so, so loud; steady and patient even when you ignore her hand and stand up, tears burning the back of your eyes as you walk past her and out of the empty jet.

No one’s here, but you still can’t accept her touch. It would break you, and the pieces of you would shatter on the asphalt, glinting under the fluorescent lights of the parking lot. So you hold yourself stiffly and walk to the car without looking back to see if Emily follows.

Her heels click resignedly against the floor, sounding far enough away that you know she’s keeping her distance. The lump in your throat only grows as you pull open the car door and get into the passenger seat, hearing her throw both of your bags in the backseat. When she opens her own door your eyes are closed, tears dampening your lashes as you turn your head away.

She doesn’t deserve this. She was working the case same as you, losing sleep over it and pouring herself into finding the unsub. You know that, but you fear any apology would soon be followed by your sobs, the force of them shattering your body into pieces.

So you stay quiet, let the lump in your throat grow as Emily drives you both home in silence.

She quietly picks up the bags again when you arrive, her eyes briefly flitting over you as she fits the key in the lock. You see her brows draw together, her lips pressing into a thin line as she unlocks the door and swings it open.

It barely clicks shut before you barrel into her. Her chest caves as she huffs in surprise, the breath knocked out of her, but in seconds her arms are around you. Emily holds you tight, one of her hands cupping the back of your neck as you exhale shakily.

“Hey,” she breathes, her lips gently nudging your temple. “Hey, I got you, honey.” Her fingers weave into your hair, the cold inside of her palm pressing against the nape of your neck. “It’s not your fault.” She says. There’s a firmness to her low voice, ready to defend you against your own mind.

You press your lips together, trying to keep your tears at bay. “I know it’s not.” Do you, though? Your voice is croaky and unconvincing. “It just fucking sucks.” The last word breaks and shatters, along with what’s rest of your composure.

Tears blur your vision. You close your eyes, trapping them inside. “Just wanna forget,” you mumble, stuffing your face further into Emily’s warm neck, “help me forget, Em.”

Her breathing stutters.

Emily squeezes you tighter. “How about we take a bath?” She whispers.

Weakly, you nod into her neck. You know she won’t let go before you do, so you do it even though your body screams in protest. Emily sets down the duffle bags and takes your hand, gently leading you through the dark apartment while switching the lights on, her fingers steading your shakier ones. She passes by Sergio with a quiet hello before pulling you into the bathroom.

You’re too drained to protest when Emily gently pushes you down on the closed toilet seat. She turns on the tap as you watch, running her fingers through the water and making sure it’s warm enough before she bends to plug the drain. The sound of it splashing against the sides of the tub almost loosens something in you. You close your eyes, smelling rather than seeing it when Emily sprinkles in bath salts.

Your eyes are still closed when she gently takes your hands. Her fingers wrap around yours, securely curling around your wrists as she tugs you up. You stand, opening your eyes as Emily lets go. She gives you a small smile and the ghost of a kiss on the corner of your mouth before slowly tugging at your clothes, as if waiting for you to say no.

You don’t. You let her take care of you, peeling your clothes off and gently nudging you into the tub. The water is almost hot enough to burn, but you’re glad for the sting as you sink into it.

Water laps at the sides of the tub as Emily joins you. It sloshes over the edges and drips to the floor when you lean forward and hide in her neck, closing your eyes as her hands wrap around your shoulder blades.

Emily doesn’t say anything. She just holds you, quietly pressing kisses to your forehead as she rubs warm circles on your back. You let out a shaky breath as something in you unwinds, a product of her steady hands and the warm bath water swirling around you. Again you know she won’t let go until you do, so you reluctantly loosen your grip on her waist.

“Gonna wash your hair now,” she murmurs.

You nod and hear the water as she gathers it in her palms; some of it drips onto your body before she pours it onto your head, soaking your scalp. Warmth cascades down your face, your shoulders. It takes a few more scoops before your hair is fully drenched, and when that happens, Emily grabs your shampoo bottle.

“No,” you rasp and she stills. Her brow raises in question. “Your shampoo,” you say quietly, the twist in your stomach telling you it’s a ridiculous request. Emily probably thinks the same; you lower your eyes and draw your knees into your chest, the very tips of them peeking out from the water and getting exposed to the cold air of the bathroom.

The comforting scent of Emily’s shampoo floods your senses. Soon after her gentle hands follow, raking through your hair and lathering the shampoo until it bubbles on your scalp. Her repetitive motions are soothing; your shoulders loosen and slump further into the warm water, some tension leaking from your body if not your restless mind. You keep your eyes down, chin on your knees, tilting with her movements as she moves your head this way and that to properly clean your hair. Her short nails scrape against your scalp as she generously massages the shampoo into your locks. You breathe out a quiet sigh.

Conditioner follows on your roots, Emily’s chin nudging against your forehead as she leans forward to reach them. This takes less time, though she’s no less thorough as she spreads it through your hair. When she’s done, you hear her dip her hands into the water, washing the conditioner off before gently nudging your chin.

“Head up, baby.” Emily whispers.

You oblige. Her eyes meet yours and she gives you a small smile, concern visibly swimming in her dark irises. You can’t bring yourself to return her smile, but as she leans forward and kisses your temple, you grab her hand under the water and squeeze. Emily squeezes back.

“Keep your eyes closed, okay? Gonna wash this off.”

Too tired to reply but not wanting to leave her with silence, you hum. Even that sound is thready and weak, drowned out by the splash of the water as Emily pours it over your head.

Her arms must ache; she repeats it over and over, runs her fingers through your soaking hair to wash out any lingering shampoo or conditioner, and she does it all with endless patience. She doesn’t take the easy route by dipping your head backward into the water, or better yet telling you to wash your own damn hair yourself. Painstakingly, she cups her hands under the water and pours it on your head until your hair is clean.

Her love only brings tears to your eyes. You feel them gather beneath your closed eyelids, a lump forming in the back of your throat as something clicks and you smell Emily’s body wash next. Opening your eyes, you find her lathering it between her palms, letting it froth into bubbles before she starts rubbing it into your chest and shoulders.

“Emily?” You say, your voice thick with tears.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Tell me something good.”

Tears balance on your lashes. You blink and they drip into the cloudy bath water, leaving small ripples in their wake.

Emily stops lathering the body wash into your skin. Her hand slips down your chest, her fingers pressing into the left side of your ribs. “You’re alive.” She says quietly. Your pulse rises to meet her fingers. “We’re both home. We’re okay.” Her other hand gently cups your cheek, her thumb tracing the underside of your jaw. “It won’t always be like this.”

Maybe it’s the intensity of her stare. Or it could be her words, both firm and gentle. Or her hand against your heart, making the both of you feel your pulse. It could be all of these things, or none of them, that makes more tears drip down your chin, a choked exhale leaving your lips as you cover the hand on your cheek with your own.

“How do you always know what I need?” You ask, the tremble of your words echoing through the bathroom tiles.

Emily kisses the tip of your nose. “Because I know you.” Her hand leaves your chest and goes to the back of your neck, gently nudging you into her arms. Water sloshes as you sink into her again. “And because we’ve all been in this place before. We’ve been in it and we’ll continue to deal with it in the future, because that’s the price of the job.” She whispers into a kiss, this one to your damp hairline.

“We can only do so much, honey. We have to remember that.”

The two of you are quiet after that. Emily trails her fingertips up and down your spine, again waiting until you move from her arms to continue taking care of you. She wipes the leftover tears on your face before grabbing her body wash, rubbing it onto your skin and chasing the bubbles off with rapidly cooling water and her soft lips.

By the time you get out of the tub and pad into her bedroom, you feel somewhat lighter. Not as heavy as before, your tears and Emily’s touch taking away some of the heaviness in your chest. More of it is chased away when Emily hands you her pajamas and spreads her lotion over your skin, enveloping you in a bubble that’s purely her; her hair products and pajamas and lotion, her arms around you when she nudges you into bed and brings you into her chest.

Her fingers again delve into your hair, gently detangling the knots that have formed over the past few days. “Make you some tea?” She murmurs, her lips tracing your forehead. A kiss is pressed there.

“No.” You whisper, curling your fingers into the collar of her pajama shirt. Her pulse beats steadily under your knuckles—we’re okay. You swallow and nuzzle under her jaw, your eyes falling closed. “Just stay with me.”

“Okay.” Emily says.

Her fingers continue running through your hair, ever so carefully working through the knots in it. There’s the occasional scratch of her nails against your scalp, and even when you shift to get more comfortable in her arms, her lips follow your forehead. Sometimes they lay there, still, but every few minutes she’ll press an absent kiss to your temple.

The events of the day sink heavily onto your bones. With your girlfriend soothing your weary soul, her heart thumping steadily under your ear as she murmurs sweet nothings in a language you don’t understand, everything feels just a little bit better. The bed dips as Sergio climbs onto it, finding his way into the small space between Emily’s arms and your body. He curls into your side and one of Emily’s hands goes to your back, rubbing small circles at the base of your spine as she runs her fingers through your combed hair.

You didn’t think you’d find sleep again. But with her holding you like this, you’re helpless to stop it.

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss fics #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss drabble #emily prentiss blurb #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #fic

176 notes · View notes

dreamescapeswriting · 10 months ago

Text

So Then Kiss Me ~ BC [MATURE WARNING]

WORD COUNT:5K

GENRE: Continuation of this piece HERE (you dont have to read to read this though)SMUT MINORS DNI, Insta love kinda feel, mafia AU, Chan being a total gentleman with reader, office sex, @meloncremesoda

Cunnilingus, protected sex, excitement of possibly getting caught

PAIRING: Chan x Fem!Reader

⤜MASTERLIST

The sun was starting to set and the streets were already dimly lit and cloaked in an ominous stillness that made you feel completely uneasy. The air was thick with tension and you couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong at any second.

"You just need to relax, once we get to my place you'll be able to do that." Katarina - your best friend of almost seven years now - explained as you nodded a little taking in a deep breath. Somewhere inside of you, you knew she was right and that you were just feeling uneasy because of the shitty day you'd had.

Shitty probably wasn't the best way to describe it since it seemed as though there was a malevolent force that was wreaking havoc on your entire life today. In the span of a single day, you'd been fired - even though you'd been up for a huge promotion but they'd given it to the new hire. Something you'd expressed your disdain for and was quickly slapped with an unemployment notice. Not only that but you'd been making your way home when you'd fallen into the canal after a biker pushed you and rode off. You hadn't even managed to get a proper look at the guy, you'd just heard him laughing manically to himself from the bottom of the bridge.

By the time you'd made it home to your apartment, there was a giant red notice on the door, an eviction letter despite every single bill of yours being paid on time. The universe was out for you and it was playing a dangerous game with you.

"I'll even let you use the hot tub," Kat smirked at you but you giggled, about to say something when you heard the purr of an engine echoing off brick walls making people murmur to one another about the reckless driving.

"You've convinced me," You laughed, stepping onto the road to cross over to the convenience store since the two of you were planning to grab snacks and drinks for your sleepover tonight.

The black SUV tore around the corner, its tires skimming on the wet asphalt as it sped through the city streets. Behind the wheel, Shadow, drove recklessly trying to get his boss to a meeting on time. But as your luck, and the universe's way of fucking you up more, had it, you'd been crossing the road at the same time he ran a red light. Chan watched in awe as you appeared out of nowhere like a ghost in the night, you looked so fragile and delicate and completely unaware of the impending danger you were in.

"Stop the car!" A voice boomed from the back of the vehicle.

The sound of tires screeching made you look up, your eyes widening in a mixture of shock and fear frozen in place as you began to shake. The SUV came to an abrupt halt mere inches away from you as people turned and gasped watching the scene in front of them.

"Are you okay?!" Kat asked as she rushed you over to the other side of the road letting you lean against the wall as you held your hand over your chest. Your heart was racing so much you were afraid it was about to come right out of your chest.

"The universe hates me," Was all you'd managed to get out as you stared down at the floor, your whole body was shaking as you thought back to the whole thing. The light was illuminated for you to cross the street, none of this was your fault but if the car hadn't broken so suddenly you'd be dead right now.

"Listen! Creep! If you're going to yell at her for being on the road maybe you should take an eye exam!" Kat started to yell out and you breathed out heavily turning to see her staring at a man twice her size who was staring down at her. He was almost 6''5 in height, bald and had a giant scar running down the left side of his face. His attention moved from Kat to you, staring you down and making your mouth run dry.

"Don't stare her down! It might work on other people but we're not going to back down!" Kat screamed in his face, hitting his chest with her purse.

"We'll sue you! You were driving over the speed limit and you ran a red light! Matter of fact-" She reached into her purse pulling out her phone.

"I'm calling the police!" She yelled but you put your hand on her arm trying to calm her down.

"Leave it. He didn't hit me, let's just go home." You begged, all you wanted to do was go home and sleep it off like nothing had happened, the sooner the day was over the better and standing in the street arguing with a man who looked like he could snap you in half was not helping.

"I won't leave it! He could have killed you!" She screamed, her yells beginning to draw attention from those around you. You heard another door open and shut and you glanced in the direction of the car.

"And what do you want?!" Kat rang out making a few of the women around you both gasp.

"Do they know who that is?" One woman muttered making you glance behind you to stare at them. Both of them looked terrified as they stared at the second man who had joined you on the streets,

"Obviously not otherwise they wouldn't be yelling," Her friend whimpered before they scurried away into a nearby store.

"Are you okay?" You glanced back around not expecting to see the man inches away. His accent was thick and you suddenly felt as though you couldn't breathe with how handsome he was staring at you, you nodded a little.

"Are you sure? It must have scared you quite a bit." The man stared down into your eyes searching for any signs that you might have been lying to him but you barely even blinked.

"I've told him to drive the speed limit around here but he never listens," It was a lie. When Chan needed to get somewhere he would, he didn't care who was on the roads but after seeing you so scared there was something inside of him that snapped. A deep achiness that urged him to reach out and check on you, to protect you even.

"Y-Yes, fine. Just shook up," You admitted when you realised he was still waiting for you to answer him. Clearing her throat Kat stared at you, narrowing her eyes at the man and then at you before she smirked a little. It was obvious that you were attracted to the man, though it was lost on Kat as to why since his driver had almost hit you.

"She would be better if you took her for some tea, you know, to make up for your driving almost killing her." Your eyes shot in her direction but she refused to look at you, instead, she chose to stare at the man who was apologising to you,

"Kat!" You hissed out, was she out of her mind? One second she was ready to fist fight the person who had almost hit you and now she was attempting to set you up.

"She's right, I should take you for some tea to steady your nerves. It's the least I can do," Chan said as he watched you, his eyes hadn't left your face since the moment he got out of the car and you swallowed the lump that was forming in your throat.

"Text me when you're done," Kat winks at you, walking away so that you can't decline the offer of tea and you whimper a little.

"I'm Chan, it's lovely to meet you...?" He stated his name so that it wouldn't feel too weird going to get something to drink with a stranger.

"Yn." You told him as he took your hand in his and gently lifted it to his lips, kissing it gently as you felt your body warm at the whole interaction.

"I know the perfect place. We can walk if you'd like," Chan told you as he slipped your arm through his, your hand clutching onto his forearm as you nodded a little.

"Thank you." You whispered, noticing people staring in your direction as the two of you made your way down the street.

Heads turned at every point making you feel a little uneasy about this whole thing, maybe they all thought it was insane for you to try and go out with the man who had almost killed you.

The quaint cafe was nestled in the corner of the city, usually, it would exude warmth and comfort for you but tonight it wasn't. Tonight, the sight of the place made you want to shrivel up and die on the floor.

"The universe hates me." You mumbled as you stopped outside the cafe that Chan had offered to take you to. It was run by your bosses - well, ex-bosses - wife who was glaring at you through the window. Not that she had any reason to glare when her husband was the reason you'd been fired in the first place,

"Sorry?" Chan questioned thinking he'd misheard you.

"I just remembered I need to head home, I'm going to be late for Kat's dinner." You were lying through your teeth but anything was better than going into the cafe tonight and having to deal with your ex-bosses wife,

"She told you to enjoy yourself. Is this Cafe not up to your standards? I can drive us somewhere else." He was open to taking you anywhere you wanted to go, even if it meant getting the jet out and flying you somewhere you'd prefer. If you said the word it would be done in seconds,

"It's lovely it's just...My ex-boss's wife owns it." You admitted, looking down at your hands and then at Chan who was frowning a little.

"Oh. How long ago did you leave?" He questioned, pulling you to the side of the door and watching you closely. He could sense that there was something more going on but you were reluctant to share it with him,

"Leave?" You scoffed a little and shook your head, leaving wasn't the right word since you'd practically been dragged out of that building for speaking facts.

"More like fired and today. I was up for a promotion and he gave it to the new girl he's got a thing for." You grumbled, folding your arms across your chest as Chan watched you closely, humming a little to himself.

"Hmm, I see."

"Yeah, I expressed my disdain for it and I was fired on the spot." You mumbled a little, rubbing the back of your neck as you probably sounded like a woman scorned but instead of judging you, Chan took your side.

"Hardly seems fair since you were already up for it."

"Life hates me today." You admitted with a low laugh, shaking your head as Chan opened the cafe door for you. There was no way he was going to let one silly woman ruin the evening he wanted to share with you.

"Trust me, no one will bother you while I'm here," He promised and even though you hadn't known him long you believed him.

As you entered the cafe, the air seemed to shift subtly and everyone turned to stare in your direction and Chan who simply nodded at the owner who hid away in the back room.

"She's not welcome." The woman stated but Chan led you toward a corner table near the large window and he smiled at you warmly.

"She's welcome anywhere," Chan stated as he turned around to face the woman whose face flashed a sign of something unreadable and she nodded, bowing a little to him.

It took almost three seconds for a server to rush over to the table, and take your orders without looking up at either of you. Chan's demeanour remained composed as he stared at you,

"I'll take a hot chocolate," He spoke to the server but not once did his eyes leave yours as you smiled a little.

"Samr for me please," You said to the server who still hadn't looked at either of you before scurrying off behind the counter.

Taking in a deep breath you look around the cafe taking in the silence, there was nothing but the soft clink of teaspoons or people whispering to one another,

"Are you famous, or something?" You whispered finally having enough of people staring in your direction and whispering to one another.

Chan was a little shocked, there weren't many people in Seoul who didn't know who he was and he loved that you didn't know, there was something interesting about it. Chan smiled at you and tried to think of something he could say. It wasn't like he could come right out and tell you that he was the towering figure of organised crime in Seoul and he couldn't lie and say he was famous since he wasn't an Idol or actor.

"Something like that," He chuckled as two mugs of hot chocolate were placed down on the table in front of you both and he looked at you. His heart fluttered a little as he watched you slowly take the cup into your hands and blow into the liquid that was obviously too hot but it was cute.

"So why else does the universe hate you? It can't just be because you got fired." Chan stated as he leant forward, he'd cancelled a meeting for this and he didn't want this to be a bust with you.

"Where do I even start?" You whined a little and leaned back on the chair, both of you falling into a conversation about how awful your day had been not noticing that time was getting away from you both.

By the time you'd both realised what the time was it was dark out and you had missed calls from Kat, along with almost 24 texts asking for details about how it had all gone,

"I'll drive you to Kat's, I'm not letting you walk home. You never know who could be wandering the streets," Chan explained as he carefully took your arm in his and led you to the already waiting car. Chan knew what could be wandering the streets and that the most dangerous thing there right now was him but he helped you into the car and instructed Shadow to start driving.

"Thank you for tonight, I had fun." You admitted with a small laugh,

"Maybe the universe gave you such a shitty day so I could make it better," He winked at you sending tingles up and down your spine. All night your stomach had been in an eruption of butterflies and your heart couldn't stop fluttering,

"Maybe." You whispered unable to shake the tingle-feeling you felt all over your body.

"I'd love to do it again, on a day that hasn't been so bad for you," Chan admitted, one night with you wasn't enough and he selfishly wanted more from you than he was probably allowed.

"I'd love that too," You admitted, staring into his eyes as he smiled at you. Before you, he had been a man of very few words but tonight he'd spoken more than he thought he had in his life. His rough exterior was melting away easily thanks to you,

"I'll call you," He said as the car slowly came to a stop, your heart sinking as you realised it was time to come back to reality and remember all of these shitty things going on in your life.

"Sure," You whispered, sliding out of the car and heading toward the steps of Kat's apartment but you were stopped when a hand carefully took yours.

Without thinking your lips met in a collision of passion and softness, your lips wrapped around the back of his neck as you pulled him closer to you.

The kiss lingered until someone cleared their throat making you break apart and stare at Kat who was smirking down at you, her arms folded on her chest.

"I'll call you soon," Chan whispered before placing a small kiss on the top of your head heading back to the car and speeding off into the night. You were too high from the kiss to remember that you'd never given him your number or even your full name as you headed into the house to tell Kat all about your date.

In the span of almost four days, things had turned from the absolute worst to the best that they could have been. The day after your date with Chan you'd been offered your job back with a promotion and even your own office with a giganic pay rise which went along nicely with your new apartment that you'd found. You'd hardly been able to believe the place when you saw it and for the price it was at? It was a steal and you weren't going to look a gift horse in the mouth with it.

Your apartment building had its own doorman that greeted you every time you entered or left the building the place was stunning and your apartment was even better.

There was a crystal chandelier that hung in the entrance, the whole place was a picture of elegance and sophistication it was incredible to see.

"Miss, Yln, Someone is here to see you." Your new assistant said snapping you from your daydream, you nodded at her and sent her a small smile before straightening yourself out.

"Send them in." She nodded and headed back to the office, you turned to look at your computer for a second to check over some last-minute emails when a news article popped up in the corner.

Body found floating in the Canal: Police believe the man found may be the Seoul Pusher they have been looking for.

"Is that-" You were about to ask if it was the same man that had pushed you when the door opened and shut.

"I see things are going rather well for you," The voice sent shivers down your spine as you shot up from your chair. Standing there with all of the confidence in the world was Chan, he smirked at you as you took him all in. He was dressed in a tailored suit that showed off his broad shoulders and incredible physique and he looked hot.

"Nice to see you again, I thought you'd never find me." You teased as he made his way over to your desk, taking a seat on the chair in front of it and smirking at you.

"I wanted to give it a few days, one of my men said a week but I wanted to see you." Chan wasn't afraid of admitting what he wanted and it was you, you had been all he'd thought about for the last four days and how badly he needed to see you again.

"I wanted to see you too," You whispered sitting on the edge of your desk directly in front of him, there was something about him that made you feel more confident whenever he was around you and you never wanted that to go away.

Chan's eyes slowly travelled up your body starting from your legs until he reached your face which was burning hot with how intently he'd been watching you.

"What can I do you for? Mr Bang." You'd found out his name after you'd tried to find his number and it had proven to be damn near impossible since he was one of the most powerful men in the city. Something that should have sent you to the hills screaming but instead it only excited you.

"Well, Miss Yln, I came to see, to kiss you, to take you out and woo you all over again." He stood up, your legs now spread to either side of his lips as he stood mere inches away from your face. Your breath caught on his lips as your heart raced intensely against your chest.

The office was now thick with tension as Chan stared down at you, the door was closed but the risk of the two of you being walked in on hung in the air. Your eyes met, exchanging a heated gaze that spoke volumes of the unspoken desires you'd been suppressing for days now.

"So then kiss me," You barely had time to finish before Chan's hand gently cupped your face, the touch was tender and yet possessive at the same time. Your lips met together in a passionate kiss, the pent-up frustration you'd been holding onto for four days finally unravelled as you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck.

Your fingers found their way into his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, the chance someone could walk in and find you like this only heated things up more.

"I want you," You whispered to him against his lips as you pulled away for air, your hands tangling into his tie and pulling him closer.

"I'll pick you up later," Chan chuckled about to walk away but you shook your head and pulled him back to you by his tie.

"I want you now," You whispered as his cheeks began to flame, Chan was no stranger to a woman's body and he wanted you too, badly.

"But someone could walk in." He teased you, his fingers slowly running between your thighs as he felt your entire body shiver at the small touch.

"Or does that turn you on?" His voice grew deeper and more seductive as his fingers traced further up your leg until they were right next to your throbbing cunt.

"Knowing that someone might walk in and see you getting the best fuck of your life?" He bit down on your neck softly as you let out a small moan,

"P-Please. Four days I've been left needy," Chan's face burnt red as he thought back on it and a smirk began to take over his face.

"Oh? You didn't do anything to help yourself?"

"Maybe...But nothing was good enough," You admitted before Chan chuckled darkly, his fingers slowly pressing against your clothed pussy and rubbing small circles as you mewled out his name a little too loudly making him freeze.

"If we're going to play this game here, you have to be quiet, little mouse." The nickname made you shiver as he slowly began to sink to his knees in front of you.

"I don't get on my knees for just anyone, Yn," He warns you before hooking his fingers around the band of your underwear and pulling them down. Before you can see what he's doing or ask him his mouth is on you, hot and wet as he wraps your legs around his shoulder trying to get himself closer to you.

"Oh...F-Fuck," You hiss out, your hands struggling to find something to grab onto as you knock some of the things off your desk onto the floor.

"C-Chan," Your voice came out in a whisper as he used his tongue slowly against you building you up as he ate you out like a man starved. How did he know exactly the right spots to hit for you? Your hands slowly moved to his hair as you pushed him deeper into you, grinding against his face a little as you moaned out. His rhythm didn't speed up or change as you moved your hips to meet him, he didn't stop even as his hand moved to thrust a finger into you. It wasn't long until your toes were curling and you were seeing stars as you came around his fingers and on his face.

"S-Shit," You hissed out as he continues to eat you out while you ride out your orgasm.

Chan smirked as he stood in front of you, his cock prominent in the tight pants he was wearing you bit your lip, reaching out to rub him through his pants.

"Do you want me to fuck you, Yn?" He asks plainly, the corner of his lips tugging into a smirk.

"Yes." You smirked at him, your hands making quick work of the belt he was wearing as you undid it and pushed down the pants he was wearing. He was bigger than you were expecting him to be but you reached between you and took his cock into your hands gently rubbing him up and down as he let out a small groan.

"Do you have a condom?" You whispered to him, you didn't want to kill the mood but there was no way you were about to have unprotected sex with someone you barely knew.

Chan took out of condom from his wallet and rolled it onto his long, hard and thick cock smirking down at you as you stared at him the whole time.

"You ready for me?" He whispers in your ear, biting down on your lobe as you nod at him, spreading your legs further apart. Chan eases into you slowly your eyes rolling back as you feel him hit the deepest parts of you.

"Oh shit," You moaned out unable to keep your voice down as he smirked at you, slowly pulling out only to slam back into you as you let out a scream of his name. Neither of you cared that people could hear you outside of your office.

"M-More," You begged as he began thrusting into you, harder and faster. Your hands gripped onto his shoulders as he fucked into you at a steady pace. You'd had sex before but this, this was ecstasy every single thrust sending you closer to the edge.

Everyone outside probably knew what you were doing but you didn't give a fuck,

"F-Fuck! Chan," You hissed out as his rhythm picked up your hands gripping onto him as your head fell onto his shoulder biting down on him,

"You're so tight baby, you close already?" He chuckled out through a moan as you clench around him tightly, cumming hard around him at his words. You couldn't hold back the scream anymore as you cried out his name, not even trying to stop yourself anymore.

"I wanna get fucked like she is," Someone said from outside of your office but Chan didn't care, he continued to pound into you as you felt yourself building up. There was no way he was going to make you cum again, not so close together and Chan grunts lowly.

"So fucking hot, you like people hearing us?" He arches a brow at you as you whimper lowly, your mind already half gone thanks to the two orgasms he'd given you.

"P-Please," You whispered needing another high from him as you bucked toward his hips, his fingers reaching down and playing with your clit. Chan pumps in and out of you ruthlessly and you cry out as you feel yourself at the edge once again.

"Cum for me, little mouse. I want to feel you cum around my cock," He groans in your ear, thrusting harder until you pushed right off the edge of the cliff cumming loudly around him and gripping onto his shoulders tightly.

Once Chan cleaned you up a little he smirked at you, running his hand gently over your cheek and kissing your lips softly.

"Let me drive you home," He whispered breathlessly, you glanced down at the time and shook your head, you still had a few hours left at work.

"I have to work." You admitted, pouting a little as you thought about going to work instead of going out with him.

"As the owner, I say you can go home," The sentence made you freeze as you turned to stare at Chan.

"Owner?" Your brow arched a little as you waited for him to answer, Chan suddenly felt as though he'd put his foot in his mouth but he nodded.

"Yeah, I've owned this place for years, never really bothered with it until now though."

"You're the reason I got the promotion?" Maybe it should have made you feel like you'd cheated your way out of it but you'd deserved it from the start,

"No. I'm the reason the woman who had it got fired and your sleazy boss. You got the promotion all on your own." He promised you, kissing your forehead softly and smirking as you grabbed your things from behind the desk.

"Does that mean I fucked my boss?" You wiggled your eyebrows at Chan who let out a deep chuckle.

"It was hot though," He winks as you kiss his jawline softly before the two of you head out of your office ignoring the looks you were getting from everyone else on the floor as you made your way to the elevators.

"I have a whole evening planned for you," Chan tells you as he snakes his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him breathing in deeply as he relaxes with you.

"Fun, I'll text Kat and let her know I'll be out late," Kat had moved into the huge apartment with you since you had so much space for only one person.

"No need, she's out with a friend." He winks at you before you head down to the garage floor of your building.

~Six Months Later~

"Excuse me, I think I remember your driver almost killing me? I don't think it's a romantic meet-cute at all," You teased Chan, he was bragging to his friends about the romantic way the two of you had gotten together and you weren't going to let him bullshit about it.

"Okay fine, but I took you on many romantic dates to make up for it!" He countered, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you down onto his lap, kissing you deeply as his friends around him groaned at the two of you.

"I thought the honeymoon phase would have ended." Kat groaned at you before you threw a pillow in her direction, hitting both her and her date - Minho before going back to kissing your boyfriend.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @felixismybf @myyouthdonut @extrhotjne @ca11me3mily @elissasimp

582 notes · View notes