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covenofagatha · 2 months ago

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Okay hear me out Agatha x Reader age gap fic. The reader and Agatha have been together for awhile I was thinking like she used to be your college professor before you graduated, The reader has a monthly night out scheduled with friends from school but Agatha like usual declines in your offer to join you all. Agatha just doesn’t have interest in the “young people bars” and hanging out with old students is strange to her, though it’s a little upsetting you don’t push too much before relenting and going on your way. A little bit into the night despite your efforts in avoiding said persons advances you’re being continuously hit on by either a stranger in the bar or a friend from the group that is your choice! But the resolve would be Agatha showing up cause she felt guilty about always declining, her witnessing and then defusing the situation (jealously obviously). I absolutely love possessive Agatha and love everything you’ve written so far! Whether it ends in smut is also completely up to you!!!

Hope you enjoy and thank you for the very detailed request!! This will be a two-parter and the next part will be based on a request I got about jealous reader x Professor Agatha.

A lesson in jealousy (Part 1)

Agatha gets jealous when she finds you at a bar and a guy is already talking to you.

Word count: 2100

Tags: marking, jealousy, making out, slight thigh grinding

“I was thinking of ordering pizza for tonight?” Agatha muses, already looking at you when you turn your head to face her.

You’re sitting on the couch in her office, nose buried in a book for one of your other classes. Agatha was your professor two years ago and there had been a spark, at least on your end, so you had kept in touch.

It wasn’t until a year ago when you had bridged the gap between a professional relationship and something more when you had kissed her one night after getting drinks at a bar across town.

You had immediately pulled back, apologizing incessantly, but much to your surprise, she had dragged you back in for more.

That night was the first of many that you spent in her bed.

Although she was no longer your teacher, you still attended the college that she worked at, so there was a bit of a gray area. Meaning, you two had to keep it under wraps.

“Oh, sorry,” you say, finally answering Agatha’s question. “I’m going out with my friends tonight. It’s our monthly bar trivia thing that we always do. I think I told you.” She hums and you frown. “What?”

Agatha shrugs. “Seems like we haven’t had a quiet night in awhile, that’s all.”

“You could always come tonight,” you offer hopefully. Her nose wrinkles and she raises an eyebrow and you know why she’s being like this. “You could just happen to show up and I’ll just happen to see you and I’ll invite you to join our team. It’ll be fun!”

And yet you know her answer before she even says it. “That’s not really my scene, baby.” You pout and slouch down further into the couch. She has never once taken you up on an invitation, even though you practically beg her every time. She rolls her eyes exasperatedly. It’s an old game for both of you. “Come on, hon, you know I have no interest in going to a bar with a bunch of college kids on a Friday night where everyone will be drinking and making noise and I taught most of your friends. I just think that it will be weird.”

A flash of anger bubbles up to protect you from the hurt you feel deep down. Would it kill her to do something for you? “I’m also a college kid who will be out drinking and ‘making noise’ and you were my professor two years ago. Is that weird?”

She sighs heavily and pushes her chair back, patting her thighs. She wants you to come over, but you grit your teeth and don’t give in. “Of course not. That’s not what I meant, obviously. Just spending my Friday evening with a bunch of college kids isn’t what I’ve wanted to do for a long time.”

You stand up, shoving your books and laptop in your bag and Agatha scoffs and says your name. You meet her eyes, disappointment written all over your face. It kills you to show her how much her rejection hurts, but you’re tired of it.

“Come here, please,” she says softly. You grumble but obey. You slide off your backpack and sit on her laps, tensely putting your arms around her neck. Despite how mad you are, you still fiddle with her strands on her nape that aren’t in her bun. She leans in to kiss your lips but you don’t let it go any further than a press of her mouth against yours. You won’t give in that easily.

“You never come,” you whine.

She tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “I know, sweetheart. I just worry it might be risky for us to be seen out in public like that. Why don’t you come over after and we can have a movie night or something? I’ll take you to a bar tomorrow night, I promise. Just the two of us.”

You can see there’s no use trying to fight her on this. No matter what you say, she won’t come with you and you’d rather not have to open up and tell her how you want to just spend a night with the most important people in your life: Agatha and your best friends. You also feel a little insecure about being so young. She is over twice your age and you worry that sometimes you aren’t enough for her, or that she thinks you’re too immature. “Okay,” you say, voice small.

She squeezes your waist and gives you another peck. “That’s my girl. Don’t come over too late and I’ll make it worth your while.” She winks and you force a smile and climb off her lap.

“I’ll see you later, Agatha.”

“Hon, you don’t have to leave right now,” she calls but you’re already walking to the door. You wave a hand as a goodbye and you moodily walk back to your dorm.

You sulk the rest of the day and debate whether or not you even want to go out to the bar, but ultimately decide that you deserve it. You don’t need Agatha to have a good time, as much as you’d like her.

“There she is! It’s been awhile!” Natasha exclaims when you get to their table and claps a hand on your back. You wince but pull her in for a hug. You’ve been swamped with homework and when you do have free time, it’s spent with Agatha, so you have barely seen your friends in the past month.

“Sorry, I’ve been so busy,” you mumble while greeting Wanda and Maria, also at the table.

“First round is on you for neglecting us!” Wanda says and you laugh and happily go to the bar to order beers for the group.

“What can I get you?” The bartender asks when you finally make your way through the crowd.

“Four Pilsners, please,” you almost have to shout. Someone next to you bumps into you roughly and you jump.

“Oh shit, sorry.” A guy about your age turns around, with shaggy dark hair and blue eyes. Something about his features is so familiar.

“You’re good,” you say. “Do I know you?”

He stares intently at your face, trying to place you. He snaps his fingers. “Professor Harkness’s class, freshman year. Something about witchcraft. I sat in the row in front you. You were like the only one who actually knew what they were talking about. I think you were her favorite by a long shot.”

You blush at hearing that someone else picked up on Agatha liking you. “I don’t know if I’d say that,” you say coyly, smiling a little at the thought of the older woman.

“I’m James. So, uh,” the boy says, sliding a hand nonchalantly around your waist. You freeze. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone at a bar?”

“I’m not alone,” you quickly say, stepping back so his hand falls off, and you point to the table with your friends. “We’re here for trivia night.”

His face lights up and he motions toward a different table with a group of guys. “We are too, but they all suck. Can I join your team?”

“Um-” You’re trying to figure out how to let him down gently when the bartender puts down the four beers in front of you. You reach for your wallet but James slaps a $20 on the counter.

“I got it,” he says proudly and then before you can protest, he grabs two of the beers and you follow with the other drinks, dumbfounded, as he walks over to your table. Your friends give you quizzical looks but you just shrug tiredly. You can’t find it in yourself to care that much right now.

The host of the trivia game comes around to each table and hands out the paper for answers and a pen. He asks the first question: when is Taylor Swift’s birthday.

You immediately say the answer and James pats his hand on your shoulder but it turns into more of a rub. Your eyes widen and your friends bite back a smile.

“I’m actually seeing someone,” you say and take his hand off of you. Your friends look even more surprised than he does. Even though you’ve been dating Agatha for close to a year now, you’ve been really secretive and change the topic whenever your love life comes up with them.

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that,” he says, raising his arms like he’s trying to show you that he’s harmless. He moves to touch you again but a hand darts out and grabs his wrist. You turn and your jaw falls open.

It’s Agatha, and she is positively fuming.

“I think she said she’s taken,” she growls and James backs off.

“Professor Harkness,” he stutters. “I wasn’t trying to do anything, we were just having a good time.” He turns to you, eyes pleading. It’s almost funny how scary he still finds the older woman. “Tell her, we were just talking.”

You wish he had said anything but that. Agatha whirls onto you. “Were you?” She hisses and you gulp. She scoffs as you protest and storms out of the bar.

Ignoring the looks from your friends, you chase after her down the alleyway.

“Agatha, wait,” you yell. “He kept hitting on me and I was trying to let him down gently but he kept trying. I told him that I was with someone else! I’m sorry.”

She spins on her heel and advances toward you. You stop like a deer in headlights and she shoves you against the brick wall before you can think. Her hands grab your wrists and pin them to the wall. You struggle futilely.

“Is this your pathetic attempt of getting back at me?” You furrow your brows in confusion and she laughs sardonically. “I was feeling so guilty earlier. You looked so sad when I didn’t want to come and I thought that maybe I could try, for you. I always say no and what a nice surprise it would be for my girlfriend if I showed up. And then what do I find? My pet is flirting with someone else. Not just someone, a sleazy college boy who would probably cum after two pumps because he’s so incompetent.” She’s snarling, her face an inch away from yours, and you hate how turned on you are.

You’ve always liked it when she got possessive over you.

“I didn’t want him,” you say levelly. “I only want you.”

She huffs like it’s a joke. “Sure you don’t want the college fuckboy? Or any of the other people in the bar? They’d never hesitate to join you for trivia night.”

And then it hits you. She’s jealous because she’s insecure. She also worries about the age difference.

Your heart swells and you break free of her grasp to grab her cheeks and pull her in for a long and filthy kiss. You moan into her mouth when her tongue swipes against yours and she fits a thigh between your legs.

“I’m all yours, Agatha,” you groan when she tugs your bottom lip between her teeth and her eyes flash.

“You better be,” she warns and entangles her fingers in your hair so she can tilt your head to the side and sink a bite into the juncture of your neck and shoulder. Your hips buck on her thigh and you gasp when she sucks roughly. She trails up your neck, doing the same thing over and over, and you’re quickly reduced to a moaning, desperate mess.

Her other hand trails down to hold onto your hip, just feeling you shakily grind against her, trying to get some relief.

“Should I go back inside and get James to come out and watch this?” She asks against your skin, still marking you up. “So he knows what happens when he touches things that aren’t his?”

You inhale sharply at the thought and wish that she would just drag you back inside and fuck you right there on the table in front of everyone.

“Please,” you beg. She actually giggles and pulls back to admire her handiwork on your neck. She lightly traces over the marks and you shiver under her touch and intense gaze.

Agatha smirks when she meets your eyes again. “That should let everyone know who you belong to. And you, in case you need the reminder.”

You pretend to think for a moment. “Maybe I could use a refresher. Why don’t you show me who owns me?”

Her eyes darken even more as she pulls you back in for a searing kiss that she ends too quickly.

She yanks her thigh from out between yours and grabs your hand, dragging you to the car.

“Oh, I’m going to, baby.”

#agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #kathryn hahn x reader #agatha all along

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 2 years ago

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The Admirals Strike Back - Cyclone

Pairing: Beau "Cyclone" Simpson / Wife!Reader (Mitchell!Reader)

Word Count: 2.1 k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Consensual and Very Much Legal Age-Gap Relationship (About 15 years); Non-Traditional Father-Daughter Relationship (Between Maverick and Reader); Humor; Cyclone's a Grump; Maverick Becomes a Grump; Use of "You," No Y/N, No Physical Description; Named Simpson!OC Kids

Summary: Maverick knew that his somewhat estranged daughter was married. He just didn't know who she married.

Master List

There was one major rule in the Simpson household. Work ended at the door. The Navy was not allowed to step inside and into your relationship. If Beau needed to deal with the Navy on his personal time, he needed to go into his office.

But Beau was going to have to break that rule tonight.

Beau could hear the sounds of your daughters from down the hall as he walked into your house and felt some of the weight already melting off of his shoulders from his long day.

“Daddy!” Maggie, your eldest daughter, squealed, slipping down from her seat.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

Beau bent down and scooped her up into his arms with a bright smile on his face. Setting her on his hip, Beau pressed a kiss to her cheek and fixed the bow in her hair.

“How was your day at school?” Beau asked, walking slowly into the kitchen.

“I got a sticker for being a good line leader!” Maggie announced, causing Beau to smile proudly at her.

“Very good, sweetie. We’re so proud of you.”

“Mommy said that I could have ice cream,” Maggie stated, causing you to turn around from the sink.

“After you finish eating your vegetables, Mags.”

“That sounds fair to me,” Beau replied, setting Maggie back down in her seat. “And I’ll throw in some sprinkles if you finish that broccoli.”

“Promise?” Maggie asked, holding up her pinky finger.

“Promise,” Beau agreed, wrapping his far larger pinky around her own.

Moving onto your younger daughter, Beau clucked his tongue with fake disapproval, causing Parker to grin and giggle up at her dad.

“Ms. Parker, you have far too much tomato sauce on your face,” Beau stated, reaching over to grab a paper towel. Gently holding your daughter’s chin, Beau wiped the sauce off of your daughter’s face before planting a kiss on her chubby cheek. “Were you a good girl for Mommy?”

“Yup!” Parker returned quickly, wearing a mischievous grin that Beau knew was going to give him heart attacks in the future.

“Mostly,” you teased your youngest as you finished up with the dishes.

“Sorry I’m late,” Beau apologized to you, walking over to give you a quick peck in greeting.

“Well, after last night, I assumed that something big was going on,” you assured your husband, setting a plate into the dishwasher.

Beau had gotten a call right around bedtime last night and he didn’t come to bed until the early morning. And you knew what that meant. Something big was going down. And as the Air Boss, your husband was going to be heavily involved. Beau glanced over at your daughters, who were still eating their dinner, before turning back to you.

“You want to break the rule, don’t you?” you guessed, turning to face your husband.

“Am I allowed to break the rule?” Beau asked, causing you to smirk a bit.

“Permission granted, Admiral. Proceed,” you replied, drying off your hands.

“Well, we needed to call in a specialist for this particular event,” Beau started off, folding his arms across his chest. “And we called in someone a little . . . familiar to you.”

You frowned for a bit, your eyes darting back and forth as you ran through the short list of Navy personnel that you were ‘familiar’ with when it suddenly clicked. Setting down the dish towel, you turned to your husband with an incredulous look.

“Maverick?”

“Yes,” Beau confirmed, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“I thought that he was taken off active-duty years ago,” you replied, causing Beau to nod.

“He was, but Iceman disagreed, and called him in.”

“Oh,” you mumbled, glancing over at the girls.

And how did you know Pete “Maverick” Mitchell? Well, you had technically known him your entire life.

Your mother and Pete Mitchell had a brief tryst that resulted in your existence. But Maverick was never very much around in your life, though you only found out recently, due to your mother’s actions. But after she passed away, you started digging to find out more about your father and reached out to Maverick.

Your relationship with your dad was very slow going. He didn’t even know that you were married to Beau. He knew that you were married with two little girls, but he didn’t know the name of your husband. He never asked. And you didn’t tell him.

“Did you want your whiskey then?” you joked quietly, spinning your wedding band around your finger.

“Not tonight,” Beau replied, straightening up. “We have an early morning tomorrow.” He took a step forward and gently took your hand into his own, rubbing your skin with his thumb. “And you’re alright? With him being in town?”

“Of course, I’m fine with that,” you returned, squeezing your husband’s hand. “I was just surprised.” Reaching up to grab your husband’s shoulders, you massaged his tense muscles. “And between the two of us, I think that you’re the one who’s less alright with him being in town.”

“I just need him to follow my orders,” Beau sighed, shaking his head.

“Oh,” you cooed, cupping your husband’s cheeks with your hands, “you’re definitely going to need some more whiskey. I’ll pick up some more tomorrow for you.”

Pressing a teasing kiss to his lips, you giggled when he pulled you in for more. And you were happy to return it, up until your daughter started screaming bloody murder.

“EW! Daddy! You have to put a dollar in the kissing jar!” Maggie yelled, pointing at the jar in the corner of the kitchen.

Similar to a swear jar, the kissing jar in your household was for when your daughters, mostly Maggie, thought that you and Beau were getting just a little too lovey dovey in front of them. The kissing jar money mostly went to ice cream or other desserts that you bought the girls, which only motivated them to call you and Beau out on it more.

“I will,” Beau promised, smiling over at Maggie. “Right after I give Mommy one last kiss.”

“That’s two dollars!” Maggie demanded as Beau pressed another kiss to your lips.

~~~~~

It was a few days after the mission and you waited with your two girls and the other families for the newly formed Dagger Squad to return to Miramar. Beau had called you yesterday from Hawaii, where the planes stopped to refuel and rest, before heading on to Miramar today. And right on time—which you expected nothing less from your husband—you spotted the planes in the distance.

Once they all landed and taxied off the runway and you were given the all clear from the grounds crew, you pointed your daughters in the direction of the plane that you knew Beau was on. Maggie took off running, already yelling for him, while Parker was happy to catch a ride from you.

“Come on, let’s go see Daddy,” you cooed to your youngest daughter before walking off.

“Who’s that woman?” Hangman wondered aloud, watching you walk across the tarmac.

“Out of your league,” Phoenix replied, not even having to glance up.

“Who do you think she’s here for?”

“Probably her spouse, judging by the toddler in her arms,” Bob added, sharing a look with his pilot.

“She’s probably . . .” Rooster trailed off, blinking with surprise at your appearance. Because you looked oddly familiar to the woman that Maverick showed him a picture of in the infirmary. Maverick mentioned that the woman was his daughter and that they were slowly reconnecting, but that they weren’t very close yet. “Holy shit. Who is she here for?”

“Did Hangman’s bullshit transfer that quickly to you? You were in his backseat for a couple of hours,” Phoenix scoffed, causing Rooster to shake his head.

“No, that’s Maverick’s daughter.”

“Maverick has a daughter?” Hangman asked, turning around.

“Yeah, one that he’s not really close with. So, who is she . . . you gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Maverick and Cyclone stepped off the plane side by side, chatting about what was to come in the next few days since Iceman’s replacement was not yet decided. But before Cyclone could get too wrapped up in the conversation, Warlock tapped Cyclone on the arm and gestured towards the hangar.

Cyclone turned and instantly smiled when he spotted Maggie running towards him, pumping her little arms to run as fast as she could. You trailed behind her with Parker on your hip, but you waved to him as soon as you locked eyes. Maverick followed Cyclone’s gaze, expecting the daughters that Cyclone mentioned very briefly in passing to be teenagers.

But when little six-year-old Maggie leapt into her dad’s waiting arms, Maverick was quietly surprised.

“You’re back!”

“I am back, yes,” Cyclone agreed, hugging his daughter to his chest. “Did you miss me?”

“Yeah, a lot! And Mommy was sad without you!”

“Well, she does like me just a little bit,” Cyclone joked, setting his daughter on his hip. “Were you a good girl for her?”

“Like I promised,” Maggie agreed, holding up her pinky finger. “Parker threw up though.”

“When?” Cyclone asked, instantly concerned.

“Mommy said that she ate too fast and then ran around too much,” Maggie replied, shrugging her shoulders. “It was a few days ago.”

“Daddy!” Parker yelled, causing Beau to look away from Maggie.

You set down a wiggling Parker onto the ground, letting her run the last of the way to her dad. And then you turned to face your own, who was staring at you in shock. You shot him a sheepish smile.

“Surprise,” you breathed out, waving to Maverick, who waved dumbly back.

Cyclone, meanwhile, picked up Parker and held both of his girls. Pressing a kiss to both of their cheeks, Cyclone walked over to you. Turning away from Maverick, you smiled up at your husband and gently cupped his cheeks to pull him in for a soft kiss.

“You’re finally home,” you sighed in relief, rubbing his cheeks with your thumb.

“We’re all home. In one piece,” Cyclone reported, causing you to let out a breath.

Pulling your husband in for another kiss, you wrapped your arms around your little family for a moment. In the background, Hondo slowly waved his hand in front of Maverick’s eyes, shocked himself at the turn of events, but far more amused than Maverick was about it. Pulling away from your husband, you turned to greet your dad.

“Hey, Mav,” you called softly, walking over to him. You gave him a quick hug and squeeze in greeting, all while waiting for his reaction to actually drop. “How are you?”

“Shocked,” Maverick replied, glancing between you and Cyclone. “You . . . he’s your husband?”

“For the past eight years,” Cyclone stated, adjusting his hold on your daughters.

“But . . .” Maverick blinked rapidly, turning back to you. “I mean, isn’t he a bit . . .”

“He is still your superior officer,” Cyclone reminded Maverick, causing you to shoot him the same look that you always did when he got a bit snappy during Navy social events.

“Yes, we’re aware that there’s an age gap between us,” you assured your dad, turning back to Maverick.

“How did the two you of you even meet?”

“Well, I had this ad up on a sugar baby website and—”

“—You know that I don’t like that joke,” Cyclone interjected, causing you to shoot him a playful smile while Maverick’s heart attack receded.

“We met at a wedding actually. Mutual friends. We sat next to each other at the same table and spent most of the night talking. I managed to convince him to dance and then we got together about two weeks after that.”

“Ten days,” Cyclone replied, pressing a kiss to Maggie’s head.

“And these are your daughters?” Maverick asked, looking over at your girls.

“Yes, this is Maggie. She’s six. And that’s Parker. She’s three,” you introduced, pointing out your daughters to Maverick.

“They’re beautiful,” Maverick commented, causing Cyclone to nod towards you.

“They get it from her.”

Maverick nodded in return and you and Cyclone excused yourselves, walking off to greet Warlock’s family. He blinked dumbly, still in disbelief that the fact that his daughter was married to someone like Cyclone of all people. Cyclone? Really? The man was an outstanding aviator, but he was probably at least fifteen years older than you and a stick in the mud.

Hondo’s barely contained laughter caused Maverick to turn towards the warrant officer.

“What?”

“Well, isn’t it ironic that for all the crap that they give you for running around with Penny, an admiral’s daughter, that your own daughter married an admiral? And Cyclone at that.”

“Shut up, Hondo,” Maverick sighed, causing Hondo to burst out laughing and nudge him in the arm.

#top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #top gun #tgm #tgm fanfiction #pete mitchell #pete maverick mitchell #beau cyclone simpson #beau simpson #cyclone #beau cyclone simpson x reader #beau cyclone simpson x you #cyclone top gun #cyclone x reader #cyclone x you #beau simpson x reader #beau simpson x you

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macfrog · 2 years ago

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greetings from austin, tx cowboy like me chapter one

alright hwfg. first part of a dbf!joel series i'm gonna be working on. i hope you guys enjoy 🤍 please feel free to send in any requests or ideas, i'm constantly writing this so would love to know your thoughts!!!! love u all thank u sm for being the best

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: you return to austin after graduating to find everything as it always was. well, most things...

warnings: age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), little bit of alcohol consumption, and lotsa flirtin and allusions to...something more

word count: 2.3k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

The doorbell rings and your dad jumps up. “Ain’t got no cash ready. Be right back.” He jogs off past you down the hall, but your eyes remain locked on Joel, who notices you once your dad’s gone. Or so you think. “Rude to stare, darlin’,” he tsks, bringing his beer to his lips. “Wasn’t starin’.” “No?”

Summer. Texan summer. One of the few things drawing you back halfway across the country to your hometown: bright, sunny, so hot the car bonnets burn your fingertips. It had become a running joke between you and your dad: he’d send a picture of Austin’s scorching sunshine, and you’d reply a picture of New York’s grey skies.

You were ready to come back home.

That is, until your flight landed onto saturated wet tarmac, during the rainiest month of the year. It hasn’t let up in the five days since.

You stumble off the bus into a torrential downpour and throw your hood back up, but it’s no use. By the time you arrive at work, your clothes are soaked through, your hair is plastered to your shoulders, and your mood is worse than ever.

Sal hands you a towel from the back when you walk into the office, but not before giving a hearty laugh from his desk.

“You oughta be gettin’ yourself a car, anyway, lady. Now that you’re back home.”

You give him as sincere a smile as your cheeks will allow. He’s your boss, sure, but he’s also a buddy of your dad’s. Gave you a part-time job for some extra cash when you were still at school, and has taken you back on now you’ve graduated. It’s in your best interests to keep him sweet.

The hardware store is the same as it always was. A little dim, a little dusty; same old tools and same old customers, but homely. You get to work unpacking this morning’s delivery, hauling boxes off of the trolley and filling the shelves. The day passes quickly enough, and you’re folding up empty cardboard boxes to waste the last half hour of your shift when a voice hums from behind you.

“Well, hello, darlin’.”

You stand up straight and spin around to find Joel Miller before you, trademark flannel and subtle-but-still-there smile on.

“Hey, stranger,” you reply, smiling back, before he opens his arms and pulls you in for a bear hug.

Joel Miller. Same as always: tall, rugged, handsome, dark hair and beard singed with grey, warm and sweet-smelling, grumbling, mumbling Joel. His chin rests on top of your head for a second before you pull away, and he looks you up and down.

“Been meaning to come over to see you since you got back, your dad said you were pretty busy unpackin’. Thought I’d give you a few days. Everything alright?”

“All good,” you reply with a nod. “I accumulated a lot of crap in New York.”

He smirks, shoulders jerking a little with a laugh. “Didn’t realise you’d gotten your job back in here,” he looks around, “you likin’ it?”

You shrug. “It’s money. And I know how things are run. Sal’s a good guy.”

Joel nods. “When do you get off?”

You glance down at your watch. “Five minutes.”

“You want a ride home?”

You take a deep breath and breathe out a, “Yes, please,” with a sigh. It’s been a long, damp day.

“I’ll just go grab these,” he holds up two boxes of nails, “meet you outside when you’re done, kid.”

He brushes past your shoulder heavily as he passes, something he always used to do when you were younger. You snort when he mutters, “My bad.”

Joel Miller and your dad have been best buds since, like, the eighties. Your dad has a few years on Joel, but they’re as close as can be. Grew up on the same street, saw each other through girlfriends, marriage, children, divorce. Never one without the other, all that.

Joel’s daughter, Sarah – four years your junior – is a freshman out west, somewhere in California. Another of the reasons you thought it was time to come home: your dad and Joel must feel pretty lonely having both of you gone.

When you’ve grabbed your hoodie and bag and made your way back out front, Joel’s being served by Anna, a girl you went to school with. She stayed here in Austin, has some side hustle selling makeup and perfume. She flutters her eyelashes at Joel as she rings him up. You cringe as you find place at his side.

“Ready?” he murmurs, looking down at you.

You nod.

“How’s things, anyways, Mr. Miller?” Anna asks, even as he’s turning to leave.

“Uh, good, thanks. Good luck with the…makeup.” Then he gives a low grunt and makes for the door.

“Not much of a talker,” you mutter to Anna, and flatten your lips against one another in the form of a goodbye.

Joel’s sat out front in his truck, looking down the receipt.

“Girl charged me for three boxes. If she wasn’t talkin’ so damn much about her perfumes…”

You pull your seatbelt over your shoulder. “Why don’t you go back in there and get your money back?”

“What, and subject myself to her battin’ eyelashes again? Almost blew me off my feet.”

Your head falls back against the headrest with laughter. “You know, you were the first thing she asked me about on my first shift back.”

“I bet I was, baby,” he replies, switching the ignition on and reaching an arm behind your seat as he reverses back.

You spend most of the drive home catching up, telling him about New York and listening to what antics he and your dad have gotten up to since your last visit home. It’s easy talking to Joel, easier than with your dad. He hums and grunts, lets you ramble, tells you what he thinks, then the pair of you fall back into comfortable silence until the next conversation sparks. No judgement, no lectures. Just Joel.

When you pull up in your drive, Joel casts you a meaningful look and says, “He’s really missed you, y’know. We both have.”

“You both have?”

“Sure. Gets quiet ‘round here at times. And with Sarah gone��It’ll be real nice to have you back again.”

“I’ll keep you on your toes, Miller.”

“Holdin’ you to it.”

“Joel? Hey, buddy.” Your dad’s voice breaks apart your conversation and you both turn to see him approaching from the garage. “Hi, kiddo.”

“Hey. Joel came in to get some stuff, gave me a ride home.” You hop out of the truck, and Joel wanders round to meet you.

“Well, thanks, man. You say thank you?” he asks.

You glance awkwardly at Joel, muttering a thank you like some little kid. He shakes his head softly in return, giving you a look that your dad misses, but you understand.

“C’mon inside, I was just tidying up. Stayin’ for dinner, Joel? I bet this girl’s been chewing your ear off about NYC…” Your dad’s voice fades away as he wanders back into the garage, and you and Joel begin to follow.

“Ain’t no need to thank me,” he whispers, leaning into your space.

You nod appreciatively. “My presence is thanks enough, I know.”

He nudges you toward the house.

Your dad orders in pizza and you set the table while he and Joel sit to discuss a potential new client. Joel sits at the edge of the table, turned outward to face the sliding doors, elbow hooked over the back of his chair. As you maneuver around them, placing mats down, you can’t help but note how fucking good he looks.

Tousled hair, unshaven beard. A broadness that even his own shirt can barely hold in; from where you’re standing, you can see where his neck meets his toned shoulders, skin tanned from the sun and the tiniest burst of chest hair over his collar…

The doorbell rings and your dad jumps up. “Ain’t got no cash ready. Be right back.”

He jogs off past you down the hall, but your eyes remain locked on Joel, who notices you once your dad’s gone. Or so you think.

“Rude to stare, darlin’,” he tsks, bringing his beer to his lips.

“Wasn’t starin’.”

“No?”

“Uh-uh. You got a stain on your shirt.”

His brows furrow and his head instantly snaps down to his chest. “Where?”

You snort, wandering over to put his plate on the mat. “My bad,” you whisper, leaning over, “must’ve been the light.”

Joel’s breath wavers only for a second, before your dad re-enters the room and he’s forced to compose himself.

“Alright, let’s see…Pepperoni, bleh, keep that one on that side of the table, please, and plain cheese over here.”

“See you haven’t improved Dad’s taste in pizza,” you say to Joel as you pull your chair out beside his and sit down, cross-legged.

“He – he’s immune to change,” he replies, then, only once he’s regained composure, adds, “or improvement of any kind.”

“Hey,” your dad protests, lifting a slice. “Cool it on the insults, here. You’ve been back six days,” he points a greasy finger at you, then steers it in Joel’s direction, “and you’re the one who turned down Lois last month. Talk about improvement, she could turn your life around, son.”

“Who the hell is Lois?” you ask, mouthful of pizza, aiming for chill, but coming across overly interested.

Joel shakes his head, only looking at you briefly from the corners of his eyes. “Receptionist at Clark’s Plant Hire. And I didn’t turn her down.”

“She asked you out?” Your knee brushes against his waist. He feels it; you know from the way his body tenses.

“She…said she’d like to go for a drink, sometime. I said yeah, maybe…some time.”

“Ouch. Poor Lois.”

He turns to face you now. “Don’t give me the same spiel your dad did, alright? I can decide for myself when I’m ready to be…datin’.”

“Wouldn’t he be nice with a receptionist from a plant hire on his arm?” Your dad fades into the background as you and Joel back-and-forth.

“If you don’t think you turned her down, why say you’re not ready to be dating?”

“Ha! See, my little girl,” Dad waves his slice of pizza around, “she got a degree, Joel. She’s smarter ‘n us. She’s got you on that one.”

“What is your degree in, again? Law?” Joel speaks through his teeth.

You beam back, happy to have riled him. “Film.”

“Film. My mistake. Must’ve felt like I was bein’ interrogated or som’.”

You decide to pull it back then. Enough discussing Joel’s love life – it doesn’t interest you much, not for the right reasons, anyway. The conversation shifts naturally to your degree, your graduation, and the year you spent living in the city afterward.

When most of the pizza is gone, the three of you sit idly chatting; the last Rangers game, the neighborhood barbecue coming up, the weather. Right as your dad voices concern about a job he has next week, his cell starts to ring in the living room.

As hasty and tactless as ever, he jumps up and almost knocks his chair flying. You and Joel laugh quietly as he bounds off in search for his phone.

You turn back to Joel, who’s playing with the label of his beer bottle.

“Hey.” You nudge him with your knee. He grunts in response. “Hey,” you say, clearer, this time pulling your legs up and over onto his lap. “Didn’t mean what I said about that Lois lady. I’m sure you had your reasons, and it’s none of my business. Or my dad’s.”

He stifles a laugh, sucking a breath in until his chest meets his chin. Then he lifts his head to look over to you. “Sorry I snapped. Wasn’t all serious, but I don’t want you thinkin’ I’m mad with you.”

“You can be, if you want.” You lean forward. “Just not for long, okay? It’d be a long summer with just my dad to hang with if Sarah’s gone and you ain’t talking to me.”

This time he laughs. For real. You mirror his swollen cheeks, glad to see you’ve amused him. He puts the bottle on the table and his hands fall to your ankles, where he gently rubs with his thumbs.

“When does she get home?” you ask him.

“Couple weeks. Still got finals and all that to worry about.”

You nod knowingly, muttering, “Rough.”

He gently lifts your legs from his lap and stands, towering over you, your chin inches away from his belt buckle as you look up at him. He doesn’t move, just brings a hand down to cup your jaw and tilt your head back ever so slightly with his thumb under your chin.

You can feel your pulse in your throat. You know Joel can, too. You clench between your legs, an ache forming there, and the only thought behind your eyes is him remedying it.

You bring your hands up to settle behind his thighs, trying desperately to send him a message through your doe eyes. Something in the way the corners of his mouth rise almost imperceptibly tells you he hears you loud and clear.

Your dad bursts back into the room like a bat out of hell, and the two of you spring apart.

“Supplier had some trouble with directions,” he mutters, tossing his cell onto the counter.

Joel grumbles in response, then, like nothing at all out of the ordinary just happened, begins gathering the bottles and gestures to you to grab the pizza boxes. You follow him over to the sink where you set the boxes down and he runs the bottles under the faucet, filling them up and pouring the dregs of beer down the drain.

Your dad’s busy clearing the placemats from the table, babbling to himself about work, when you feel Joel’s shoulder lean into yours.

“Trouble,” he murmurs.

You tilt your head and furrow your brows in response.

“You,” he breathes, “are nothin’ but trouble.”

You smile back at him gleefully.

Trouble, indeed.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #dbf! joel miller #dbf!joel #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #dbf!joel miller #joel tlou #fic: cowboy like me

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wordsofelie · 5 months ago

Text

Chapter 1

🌅Don’t you dare runaway (A Phoenix and Ashes Sequel)

Miya Osamu x f!reader

Summary: Miya Osamu thinks some things will never change— Atsumu will always be annoying; his Ma’s food will always be the best and you will always be his favourite sunrise.

Content Warnings: Timeskip Setting, Manga Spoilers, ex!Suna, Swearing

Words count: 3.1k

chapter 2 - chapter 3 - chapter 4 - chapter 5 - chapter 6 - chapter 7 - chapter 8

Miya Osamu wouldn’t consider himself bad-looking. In fact, back in high school, he was quite popular. He remembers being on the volleyball team, where girls would show up to every game just to catch a glimpse of him, even more than ‘Tsumu—though his brother would argue that to the grave. But to be honest, Osamu didn’t really care about the attention. It was nice, sure, but it could also be annoying at times.

Now, as an adult running his own business, things have changed. The fangirls have been replaced by regular customers—people from the neighbourhood, office workers, students. Some of the girls still look at him, maybe even flirt a little, but it's different. They’re not giggling or blushing like teenagers. They smile, exchange pleasantries, and Osamu catches the occasional lingering glance, but no one is making a scene.

It’s almost a relief—being popular in school was one thing, but running a restaurant requires a different kind of behaviour. He can’t really ignore girls or play hard to get anymore. He has to smile and be polite all the time. Still, he is good at keeping people at arm's length and has a whole strategy built to keep his female customers without giving them false hope. So when a girl has a crush on him (and he can sense from afar) he adopts his three-steps rule: smiling but not too widely, looking at them in the eyes but not too intensely and when he hands them what they ordered, carefully avoiding any fingers brushing or any physical touch. With that, Osamu hopes that people will come back not because of how he looks but because they will like what he makes. And that’s just fine with him.

And above anything else, if he didn’t have time to date in high school because of the club, now that he is working, he has even less time to give to a significant other. So, he concluded that it’s better to keep people away.

(Well, except you.)

So yes, Miya Osamu is used to the attention. However, as he takes a glimpse at the two obasan grocery shopping on the other side of the road, whispering and grinning at him, he remembers why he hated fangirls back in high school.

“Do we really have to do this in the middle of the street?”

You wave at them with a polite smile and turn your attention back to him.

“Yes, one more, please!” you beg, holding your camera up.

Today is particularly windy and you decide to tie your hair up in a ponytail to keep strands from flying across your face (and Osamu knows you always tie them up when you want to be focused on something.) The sun is up in the sky, and the breeze is chill, summer is over.

The man sighs heavily, dragging out your name in exasperation.

“Osamu.” Your tone shifts, firmer now, the one you use when you're getting serious. Osamu likes to pretend you’re scary when you get like this, but really, you’re not. “Can you tell me who studied communication and social media management here?”

“You,” he mutters, crossing his arms.

“And who is in charge of your Instagram and Facebook pages?”

“You,” he repeats, already knowing where this is going.

“Right. So, unless you want someone else to ruin the carefully crafted image of your business I built, you should probably let me do my job.”

“Yer not even employed here,” he points out, raising an eyebrow.

You match his look, raising yours higher.

“Fine, fine,” he says, throwing his hands up in surrender. “But just one more photo. We’re supposed to open in five minutes.”

You grin in victory and start snapping photos of him. “Miya Osamu, you’re awesome. If you showed your face more you’ll get so much followers.”

Osamu feels a slight warmth creeping into his cheeks, he lowers his cap to hide his face. It’s getting hot, maybe summer isn’t really over?

“But can we at least do that inside?”

He knows you don’t really care whether it makes him uncomfortable or not because you just want to give the best image of Onigiri Miya possible and what’s better than the (good-looking) owner standing in front of his shop, half sat on a table, arms crossed? Nothing, you claim.

“Turn your face so I can see more of your left profile.” You instruct, ignoring his question.

Osamu is about to ask you to stop when Atsumu appears dressed in his MSBY Jackals sweatsuit, frowning.

“Oi, shop's still closed? I’ve got practice, need to eat first,” he complains, tapping his foot impatiently.

“Oh hi, Atsumu!” you lower your camera, “can you wait a few more minutes, I’m taking pictures of your brother.”

“Huh? But how am I supposed to be the best setter in the world if I have an empty stomach?”

Osamu sighs, “All right, all right. I’m openin’ up now. Just wait a sec.”

Atsumu watches as his brother opens the front door. “Wow, shocker. Ya actually listened to me for once.”

Osamu shoots him a flat look, one that makes you chuckle.

You both follow the younger twin inside.

The restaurant is small, but you always tell Osamu it’s warm. The walls are white, so the light reflects all over the place, the counter is made of wood, it’s so clean, sometimes you’re afraid to eat on it. There’s still some work to do and some decorations to add, but Osamu likes this place.

He sees your eyes waver all around the room with a little bit of pride. You both come here every day, but still, Osamu only realises how far he has come once you’ve passed the door and the look on your face lights up like a kid.

Atsumu’s eyes flick over to you as he pulls a chair. “What were ya doin’ outside?”

“I wanted to take some pictures of Osamu for his social media to celebrate the first anniversary of the shop. You know, to get more people to come.”

“Maybe ya should take me as yer model, I’ve always attracted more girls than that moron of ‘Samu.” He puffs his chest proudly.

Atsumu startles when the other twin brutally puts down a packed box with four onigiri inside in front of him. A nice way to tell him to shut up.

He blinks in confusion, staring at the box. “Oi, these are new?”

“Yeah, spicy cucumber and tarako, tell me what ya think.”

“Am I yer crash test or what?” Atsumu’s eyes widen, looking between you and his brother.

Osamu shrugs casually. “Ya always eat what I make, don’t ya? Thought ya wouldn’t mind.”

Atsumu’s indignation fades into a grin, though his pride won’t let him admit he’s secretly pleased to be part of his brother’s culinary experiments. He picks up an onigiri, inspecting it before taking a big bite. “Not bad. It's bitter and salty. But 'Samu, if I end up at the hospital, it’s yer fault. Don’t cry when ya’ll have to tell Ma’ her favourite son is dead.”

“Always so dramatic.” You whisper with a chuckle. The corner of Osamu’s mouth lifts a little at your words.

“Aren’t ya goin’ be late?”

“Nah,” Atsumu says mouth full of rice, “Practice starts a little bit later today, our manager’s lookin’ for someone to handle communication, so he had all those interviews and shit and coach wanted to be here.”

Both you and Osamu exchange a look.

“Atsumu.”

He turns to you, raising a brow.

“Atsumu,” you repeat, more slowly. “You realise I’ve been jobless for a month now, right? And that I’m looking for a job in communication? Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“Yeah, I don’t think that would be good for ya. Ya’ll be surrounded by men. Bokkun, Omi-kun… even Shoyo-kun has joined us.”

You cross your arms, narrowing your eyes. “And? Why is that a problem?”

Atsumu snorts, leaning back in his chair. “Just wonderin’ if ya can handle all those big guys, seein’ as ya’ve been single for—what—three years now?”

The brown-haired twin sees your features cringe at his words, but you quickly add, “But I’m with Osamu most of the time,” you point out, glancing over at his brother, “I’m used to boys.”

Osamu smirks at that.

Atsumu eyes the two of you before finishing his onigiri. “Right, just don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

“Do you think I should apply?” You ask Osamu. There’s something in your eyes like you’re searching for his approval but at the same time, his opinion wouldn’t matter anyway for you have already made your decision.

You have changed so much.

Osamu remembers the sixteen-year-old insecure girl he met in high school. Back then, you were quiet, always keeping yourself distant. He hadn’t even had a real conversation with you until the sports festival in his second year, and even then, it had been short, perhaps a little bit awkward. People would forget your name; forget you were in the same grade as them. It never seemed to bother you though. You appeared cold in front of people, but deep down, Osamu always knew you were kind.

The years he spent at your side confirmed that.

Maybe it was the fact that you used to date his former teammate and friend, Suna Rintarou, that pulled you into his world, but even after that relationship ended, you stayed in Osamu’s orbit. In fact, he can hardly remember a time when you weren’t around. You spend so much time at his restaurant, you have dinner together every night, you’re there on the weekends and every January 1st, for who knows how many New Year’s now, you are the first person he sees. You’re a constant in his life, maybe what he could qualify as a best friend (not that he needs to title your relationship, it’s too special to be defined with words).

But somehow, everyone still thinks you’re an introvert, that you don’t like to talk much. That statement never fails to make him smile. Because he knows better. He knows that you love telling him about your day and you love to talk on the phone until the a.m.—when you’re sleepy you tend to ramble. When you start a new activity, you always need to explain in detail what you did and where and how and what you liked or disliked about it. Osamu has no certainties about this world, except for one thing; you might be reserved with others, but never with him.

“Sure, go for it, just know ya’ll have to see ‘Tsumu every day.”

“So what? Are you afraid I’ll spend all my time with your brother instead of you?”

“Me? Yer the one who’s gonna miss me.” He leans on the counter to whisper that last part into your ear. From up close he can see the beauty marks on your face, he rests his chin on his palm and smiles (a side smile, always).

Your lips turn upwards, “You wish.” He can feel your breath against his cheek.

“Oi! Stop whisperin’, I know yer talkin’ about me,” Atsumu interjects, both Osamu and you straighten a little bit. The setter says your name, “D’ya wanna come with me so I can introduce ya to the manager? Maybe ya can give yer CV?”

You turn to Atsumu, “Of course, I’m coming. See you Osamu.”

“I'll close the shop earlier so I can pick ya up Champion.”

"You're the best." You wink at him and join the blond twin outside.

Osamu doesn’t have the time for a relationship because his business comes first.

Or perhaps it comes second.

Right after your friendship.

Osamu waits for you in the parking lot of Osaka’s gym. Your interview is supposed to end in a few minutes but if it were to end sooner, he decided to show up earlier, just in case. It’s become a habit—being there for you before you even ask. It started years ago, and somehow, it never stopped. He catches sight of you emerging from the gym, but your expression worries him. He’s seen almost every side of you by now. Disgust when you eat menma in a ramens, guilt when he picks you up at 3. am. downtown ‘cause you drunk a little bit too much—you always apologise a thousand times, as if he minds driving you home— sadness when your heart had been broken by your first love. And that face, he knows it too; you're overthinking.

Osamu raises a brow as you approach. "So... how’d it go?"

You hesitate, lips pressing together in thought. Your silence makes him uneasy. Osamu notices his hands are starting to sweat just slightly so he decides to hide them in his pockets. Over the years, Osamu has learned that if you're nervous, he is too.

"It went great, actually. Better than I expected." You look down at your shoes for a moment before adding, "But that doesn’t mean anything, right? I don't know if they really liked me... I should have done better..."

Osamu clicks his tongue and opens the passenger door. "Yer always so damn humble. It’s annoyin’, ya know that?"

You chuckle softly and roll your eyes. When you sit next to him in the car and he starts driving, you’re fast to realise he is not going in the direction of your apartment.

"Where are we going?"

"I want to thank ya for takin’ care of the shop’s social and ya know, just supportin’ me and stuff, openin�� the restaurant wasn't easy but ya were there. So yeah…”

“You don’t have to, you know I’m happy to do it.” Your eyes are so soft, Osamu wants to lean in them.

“I know.” He simply answers, he always answers the same thing.

“How about Chinese food?"

You sink into your seat and nod. Osamu can see that you’re happy with his choice from the wrinkles that form around your nose as you smile. A warm feeling spreads into his chest, it’s comfortable like he had just drunk a sweet cup of tea in winter.

“So, how was the interview?” He then asks (and he knows the conversation will last the whole ride because remember, you never shut up with him).

So, you tell him about how it started with the manager and coach, both professional and somewhat intimidating at first, but then the mood shifted when the captain, Meian, walked in. You describe how calm and composed he was. He made a couple of jokes, and you tried your best not to burst into laughter ("I need to stay professional, you know.") Then, of course, Bokuto barreled in behind him like a human whirlwind.

"Bokuto-san was... a lot," you laugh. "He barely let the manager finish a sentence. He was so excited, he even asked me to make a post about him. But you know it’s not like I’m managing the social media yet, so he was very disappointed, and I felt bad. Maybe I should have made a post anyway, to show my skills? But then what if they didn't like it? What if they think I'm incompetent?"

"I'm sure ya did great, smartass" he uses a soft voice, in an attempt to reassure you. "What happened after?"

"And then," you continue, your voice lowering a little as if you're embarrassed, "Sakusa-san showed up. He didn’t say much—actually, he didn’t say anything at first. He just dragged Bokuto-san out of the room. I think he was annoyed."

There it is—that slight blush on your cheeks when you mention Sakusa. It's subtle, but Osamu has known you long enough to notice. For some reason, it bothers him more than it should.

"He’s... interesting," you add, trying to brush past it, but Osamu’s mind lingers the way your voice softened when you mentioned him.

"Is he? I don’t know him that much.” A sudden urge to change the subject invades him.

“Atsumu warned me not to fall for any of his teammates. Said it would be ‘too much drama for the team.”

Osamu glances at you briefly, curious. "And what d’ya think?"

You shrug casually and shake your hands. "I’m not really looking for a relationship right now."

Those words hit him harder than he expected. There’s a surge of relief in his chest, so sudden and sharp that he can’t ignore it. But he does his best to keep his face neutral, hoping you don’t read his mind.

You’re probably afraid to get hurt again, he understands that. When your relationship of three years ended up with Suna, you were devastated. Osamu remembers you crying for months. He was so afraid you’d starved yourself that he couldn’t sleep at night and decided to take care of you as much as he could. He wished he’d done more though.

He keeps his eyes focused on the road like he doesn't dare look at you at this moment.

He thinks the conversation is over when you break the silence again. "What about you? You never talk about your love life. What happened with your last girlfriend? What was her name again?"

Osamu stiffens. He hadn’t thought about her in months, and now that he does, there’s no real emotion attached to it. She was nice, sure. But nice wasn’t enough.

He needs someone funny and kind and bright.

He wants to laugh and to cook and to sit in silence with the one he loves.

"Ah, her," Osamu says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "She didn’t like that I spent so much time workin'."

You wait for him to say more, and he can feel your eyes on him, asking him to keep going. He sighs, feeling a weight settle in his stomach. And with you, he is about to say, but that would make you feel guilty, and he doesn’t want that.

You frown, confused. "She was very pretty though. Why didn’t you ever introduce me to her? Were you... ashamed of me or something?"

Ashamed? Of you? The idea is so ridiculous that it almost makes him laugh, but he can’t shake the look on your face, the way your brows knit together, and you purse your lips slightly.

"I’m not ashamed of you, idiot," Osamu blurts out, the words tumbling from his mouth before he can think them through. “I guess, I just didn’t really have the time.”

Your smile softens, and though you don’t say anything more, he can see a glint of joy in your eyes.

“Why are ya smilin’ for?”

“You must really love me.”

Osamu feels his heart skip a beat; he almost misses to stop at the red light.

“Why-why would ya say that?”

“You only insult people you love, like your brother.”

He opens his mouth a little, but nothing comes out.

“I’m glad we’re friends.” You tell him and your voice sounds like a lullaby.

Fuck, Osamu thinks. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken another coffee an hour ago because he can hear his temples beating loudly and he needs to do something with his hands—they’re shaking, they’re shaking. You’re going out of the car once he’s parked; he looks at you. Your smile is still playing at the edge of your lips.

Friends, of course, you’re friends.

That’s great.

Perfect.

Osamu wouldn’t change anything about it.

author notes: i'm sooo happy to start this story, this chapter was essentially a way of setting the scene. compared to the prequel it will be mostly osamu's pov.

i'm gonna try my best to make it possible to read it as a stand-alone but i still think reading the prequel can help to understand the bond between osamu and y/n, anyway i hope you've enjoyed that chapter :)

taglist: @wolffmaiden, @obibiwan, @teyvatsunsets

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chimimon · 4 months ago

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Keeping Record

Medical AU - Higuruma x f!Reader

Disclaimer! What you are about to read contains the following: suggestive material! I genuinely cannot think of another tag so I apologize if my air headed-ness missed something major… (-｡-;

& what I have to say is… “Are you writing a fic about that man with that whole beak-” YEAH AND? THAT BEAK PRETTY! If he’s a bird, I’m a bird!? RAH-AH RAH-AH

You have reached the voicemail box of Hiromi Higuruma. I’m sorry I can’t come to the phone right now but please leave a name and number and I will get back to you as soon as I can.

Beep

You hung up the call and stared at your screen. Legal firms of any kind were a pain to deal with, but this one was pushing all the right buttons.

You have reached-

“Okay...” Disappointed? Sure, you were. But never surprised. “No this is great, I’m sure they don’t even want these records.”

A medical assistant slid behind, looking at the medical record request alongside you, scanning it for a date of birth and the dates of service.

“I’m not blind, am I?” The copies were at your nose. Then you examined them at your keyboard, holding it as far down as you could to get another look.

“Hmm. Are they asking if they can release their records to us…?”

“Right?”

They laughed on the way out of your office, visiting your printer to make a colored copy of something. It was small and dim, but you liked to think of it as cozy. Some days it felt more like a closet and even more so now that one of two flat panel light fixtures began to flicker. At this point you were waiting for it to die before asking to have it replaced, because that was the only way they would replace it.

The medical world was fun... sometimes. The workday for medical assistants and nurses heavily depended on the doctors’ attitude, followed by the patient's attitude. But being on the back end of things made it so more people could make or break your shift. Seniority and an excellent work reputation meant you got to train new hires if their leads weren’t in, double check most of the outgoing paperwork, and do all the “fun” insurance things. With that, it wasn’t long before one of the receptionists walked back to grab you.

“Sorry,” they knocked on your open door. “I have someone here asking to speak with medical records?” They were new, and visibly stressed.

“Hey,” you cordially smiled. “You’re good, did they give you a name?”

They made a face and shook their head, “I’m sorry I didn’t think to ask.”

“No, no you’re good.” You reassured them.

When training or speaking to new hires, you did so with empathy. Going to school only meant so much, nothing really prepared you for how differently each clinic ran. You tried so hard to give them the patience and understanding that you never got.

“Just let him know I’ll call them back in second and get their name before you have him sit down.”

They looked relieved with your laxed attitude before running back to the front. After a few minutes you joined them again and were handed a sticky note with a name.

“Higuruma?” You called out to the waiting room.

A dark-haired man, with a slight tan and a brief case stood up. He nodded on his way over. You introduced yourself before leading him back to your office. As you walked pass the nurses station, you nodded, and watched their eyes dart to the man following behind you. It wasn’t often that anyone followed you back anywhere. If it wasn’t a nurse or doctor at your door, it was a patient accompanied by a nurse.

The legal request for records was neatly placed beside your keyboard. You pulled up a chair beside yours, and motioned him to sit.

Higuruma looked as serious as you pictured most lawyers did. It was like playing bingo when you looked at him. Black suit and tie? Check. Briefcase? Check. Polished and shiny dress shoes? Check. The tired look in his eyes and slick back hairdo, which was escaping whatever gel product he used, was like the free space in the middle of the card.

“How can I help you today, Mr. Higuruma?”

“I was asked to visit your clinic to inquire about the subpoena.” Polite and straight to the point, you thought.

“Yes, I apologize in advance, but I have been trying to get ahold of your firm. Can I confirm some contact information with you?”

With the call history on your computer, and the request beside it, Higuruma could immediately see why you were trying to contact them, and just how often you tried to. He apologized for the discrepancy and asked if there was anything else you needed.

“Ah, yeah. So, the doctor your client saw, they’re not comfortable signing anything unless they can speak with someone.”

Higuruma smiled with his brows raised. “I can speak with the doctor today if they have the time.”

You made a face that let him know they weren’t in clinic. “Can we schedule a time they can call? Well, actually it might be best if you come back.”

When it came to legal things or insurances, you mentally prepared for attitude when you couldn’t immediately give the representative what they wanted.

“That’s fine. When will they back in?”

What a relief.

Higuruma offered to provide lunch and set the date for that following Thursday an hour before noon.

“Oh, and before I go,” He paused to unlock his phone “I’m going to give you my personal number. I don’t want to ignorantly disregard your clinic’s needs. But I’m going to ask that my number does not go to anyone else, and that it only stays with you.”

With a nod, you exchanged phones and contact information.

“Hiromi Higuruma,” you read aloud to yourself upon the trade back.

He smiled again as you looked up.

“Oh, sorry.” You cut out his first name on his contact, reading aloud “Mr. Higu-ru-ma…” in a softer voice.

“Hiromi is fine,” the lawyer tone dropped. “The whole ‘Mister’ thing makes me feel old.” He chuckled.

“Oh- okay, Hiromi.” You smiled, scanning him again before offering to guide him out.

With the door leading to the waiting room propped open, he promised to speak with whoever faxed the original form and to bring a new, corrected one on Thursday. When the automatic sliding entry doors closed, the second desk girl looked to you before giggling.

“What?”

“Do you think he’s cute?”

You looked up thoughtfully and then shrugged.

“He looked a lot happier then when he came in.” she sang sweetly.

The newbie that originally grabbed you spoke up. “Yeah. He was smiling just now, and I was kinda worried about how he was gonna treat you back there.”

“And you gave me no warning?” You teased.

The two sheepishly smiled before someone approached their desk. You took it as your sign to leave and return to your desk.

—

The morning before the meeting, Higurumi texted asking what he’ll be picking up for lunch.

You – “Sandwiches are safe.”

Himori – “Allergies?”

You – “Peanuts for the doctor in question.”

Hiromi – “Noted. Anything they or you prefer?”

You really thought about the doctor, and then your manager who would be present, and shook your head.

You – “I’m not even going to guess. I’ll send you their orders in a second.”

Twenty minutes later he received their orders and reconfirmed the dates. You wondered if he was wearing the same black suit, or if his hair was getting loose again.

—

The lunch was embarrassing. Higuruma kept having to repeat himself to the doctor, who in turn kept interrupting him before he could finish saying anything, and your manager didn’t do anything to help. They were just blankly staring and smiling, alternating the combo between the doctor, the lawyer, and yourself. Right before you could thank Higuruma on behalf of the small four-person luncheon, both your team mates had something to say.

“You know as much as I appreciate Mr. Higuruma being here today, I just have no idea why I’m here. Why you didn’t have Legal come in?” Your manager stared at you, and then at Higuruma. “And the request is a few weeks old, which I apologize for, but I mean what have you been doing back there?”

You froze without any idea why this couldn’t wait until the lawyer left. “Well, when I asked Legal, they said this was something you could look over and-”

“When?”

You blinked slowly. “When I set the date with Mr. Higuruma.”

“I mean it’s a silly record request.” The doctor chimed in. “It seems to me if you just read the forms, and worded things better, maybe I would’ve understood and been more than happy to sign sooner.”

All you could do was stare, as they blamed their stupidity on you.

Higuruma seemed taken aback and annoyed. What was worse was you couldn’t tell if it was directed at you or them. But the ordeal wouldn’t end if you tried to fight them on this, so you surrendered like most people do and apologized to the room. “I don’t mean to waste yours, or my own teams time.” You bowed to Higuruma from across the table, ignoring the theatrically loud sigh that just left your manager.

When you looked up, Higuruma seemed confused as he bowed back. “No, the mistake started on my end. Really this whole ordeal is on my firm.” He stood up now to shake your manager’s and doctor's hand. “I apologize for inadvertently dragging this simple request out for your clinic, staff and my own client.” He bowed again.

“This isn’t on you pal,” the doctor patted his shoulder as he left the break room.

You felt too sick to finish your food and got up to put whatever you couldn’t stomach in the fridge. “Oh, and uh,” your manager peeped their head back into the breakroom. “Make sure the man gets his records before he leaves, m’kay?” You nodded with the most professionally pissed off smile before grabbing a water bottle and leading Higuruma back to your office.

The clacking of keys seemed louder than normal, and you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything until you hit print. “There are quite a few pages, so it might be a while. I can bring it to your office since your firm is fairly close.”

“Today?”

“Yes...”

“On your own? Are they going to make you drive yourself?”

“Yeah?” You didn’t know where he was going with this.

“They reimburse for gas, right?”

You looked at the clock, it was 12:30, but you knew your manager was going to find a way to make sure you don’t get paid for what they believe is your screw up. They might even try to say you got a long lunch so it was only fair.

“They should.” It wasn’t a complete lie.

Higuruma thought about it, then got comfortable beside you with his briefcase on the table and his legs widely crossed. “I’m okay to wait.” He pulled out a laptop. “If that’s okay with you.”

You nodded before going back to your computer.

Page 045/462 is printing…

Higuruma kept his distance but you could see his forearms from the corner of your eye.

When did he take off his suit jacket?

Then your gaze fell to his lap, another pair of black suit pants, but you could see the feint lines that made them corduroy.

“You’re only ten minutes from our clinic. Are you sure?”

Higuruma nodded with his chin on his fist. He hadn’t looked at you but you were now tracing his profile with your gaze. He still looked tired and laxed. Something about his demeanor and suit was doing messing to your line of thought. You tilted your head and thought to make small talk while you had him. Then you stopped after remembering he looked tired, and might only want to respond to yes or no questions.

Page 176/462 is printing…

The printer was warming the cramped space and your cardigan had to come off. After placing it on your chair you made it to the window. “May I?” You looked over your shoulder. He nodded again but did not turn away when you had to open the window. The way you stood on your tippy toes, without the cardigan, made it so your scrub top hugged your waist with a little drama. He consciously turned away before you caught him.

Page 176/462 is printing…

At your desk, you recalled that he hadn’t ate while you four talked, so you opened a drawer and grabbed out one of those too-sweet-to-be-healthy granola bars. “Sorry, this is all I got.”

The bar slid over to him and Higuruma thanked you before immediately tearing into it. His apparent hunger made you feel guilty for not trying to harder convince him to leave. “I can grab you some lunch, you know, for keeping you here.”

He laughed before turning to face you. “Everything was on me, so don’t worry about it. Besides, I think there are a couple more things I can apologize for. You know, after that.”

“Pardon?”

“Doctors and higher ups in medical can get a little jaded, so I’ve noticed.” He folded his arms and you were immediately staring at them.

“They mean well.” It sounded like you were trying to convince yourself of it.

“Oh, I’m sure they do.” He shook his head. “I’m sure that’s why I have to defend them most the time.”

You smiled at his understanding. You felt less embarrassed about luncheon and lifted your brows. “My offer on lunch still stands.”

He looked up at the ceiling and noticed the flickering light. “That’s nice, but all I’d want from you is to join me. I’d like to pay.” He grinned.

“Can you just do that?” You thought he meant with a company card.

“With my card and on my lunch, yeah I can.”

“Oh, you don’t have to make time in between work for me.”

“Well…” he uncrossed his legs and leaned in. “I guess lunch can be kinda hard for me, so how about we do dinner instead?” It wasn’t clear when he started flirting but that made your stomach drop.

Page 387/462 is printing…

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“Not while I’m on business. But can I properly ask when I’m off the clock.” He cheekily smiled.

Your print job is completed

You handed Higuruma a fresh stack of warm paper, and again walked him out. “I’ll message you around 6,” he said too close to front desk.

You didn’t notice those two were grinning past your own anxious excitement.

—

The following Thursday rolled around, and just as you were headed to the bathroom to get changed, a doctor dropped a stack of papers on your desk.

“What’s this?”

“Prior authorizations. I need these done before Friday morning.”

“This Friday or next?”

“This Friday. Please.”

“Where did your assistant go?” You leaned back looking past the doctor and out your door. No one at the nurse's station.

“It’s just you, but even then, he’s been looking forward to some date he’s got tonight, so...”

Nice. Super nice.

“Got it.” You said flatly, unwilling to hide the tinge of annoyance in your tone.

You called Higuruma to cancel. He insisted on bringing something over and lied about making a big reservation after you offered to cover any fees for it.

“Just name your favorite spot, or better yet I can wait for you to finish.”

“Higuruma this is going to take a second, you don’t have to do that.” The stack of papers looked daunting, but after flipping through it was just three procedures with a lot of notes to fax.

“I want to.” He hummed

“Well, I can open the door for you if you come through the back.”

“Can you do that for me?”

“Strangely enough, yes I can.”

“Okay,” He sighed with relief. “I’ll see you in 20.”

As soon as he hung up you locked your office door to get changed. It felt a little silly but if you were going to have a date in your office, you were going to be dressed up for it.

Five minutes passed and it felt like an hour. The hold music was nothing short of goofy, and you were looking forward to seeing him. You wondered what he was wearing, if he was going to be in a suit or if suits felt like a work uniform to him and would dress down when getting dressed up. Then you wondered what dressing down meant, if it was another button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, grey slacks or if he would wear a more relaxed pleated pair of pants. What kind of belt would he wear? Would his shirt button be undone? If so, how many?

An insurance agent cut through your train of thought, and the first prior auth was complete. You checked your phone and saw that Higuruma was on his way but that text was sent twenty minutes ago and now you were feeling nervous. In the middle of being on hold for the second company, Higuruma called saying that he was there.

You ran back, opened the door, walked him back, and forgot the hold music was on speaker.

“Interesting song choice.” He teased.

“I- no wait.” You took the phone off speaker and nervously chuckled before the second agent answered. With one more left you dialed the last insurance line and began to press all the options. While on hold you pushed out your hand with a pinky extended. “You’ve gotta promise me something.” You felt self-conscious of the blatant disregard to health privacy laws switch your date in the room.

“Pinky promises?” He raised a brow.

“You have to promise to pretend this is work related if anyone from the clinic calls to ask why you were here, and that you don’t repeat anything I say to the agent.”

Higuruma snorted and nodded. He kissed his thumb, extended his pinky, and locked it with yours. “Seal it with a kiss.” he toyed. Although it felt silly, you did as he said and it filled your stomach with butterflies.

This last Insurance company was taking their sweet time answering. You put the hold music back on speaker and reached out for your plate of food. You slid closer to him, thanking him for dinner before the first bite.

“So,” You immediately caught his attention. “Is our pinky promise legally binding then?”

“Well, it’s technically me giving you my word, so yes.” Smiling at his fork he said “It is for me.”

His sleeves were rolled up again, but he was wearing a form fitted black mock neck, with a pair of olive-green pleated pants. As he ate, you eyed his wrist watch, and thought it had to be white gold. But even more eye catching than his watch were subtle but protruding veins that lined from his wrist to his pushed sleeve. Higuruma noticed your gaze.

“You like what you see?” He murmured.

“Do I like what-? Oh!” The music stopped and you quickly grabbed the phone to finish the last prior auth.

Higuruma took this opportunity to get an eyeful of his date. You were wearing a black satin dress that had been showing off your legs since you sat down. Before you took the call, when you had faced each other, Higuruma’s attention had been caught by the cowl neck of the dress but he only allowed himself to look for a second. You just looked too tempting to just be taking a call. To be in an office alone with him. As you were finishing up, Higuruma snuck up behind you, with his hand landed on yours as your cursor hovering over the end call button.

“No that’s all. You too. No, no thank you.” Before the agent could wish you a good night, Higuruma hung up the call. You turned around in your chair stunned that he was also towered over you. “What if I wasn’t finished?”

“Were you not?”

“Mr. Higuruma, are all lawyers as cocky as you are? Or as flirty?” If you could call what you were feeling butterflies, there were a roost and they were moving up your chest. Your eyes moved from his down to the arms that trapped you in. As you stood up, he moved back. “Hiromi?”

He folded his arms again and leaned against a shelf behind him. “Not that I know of.” Higuruma hid his mouth behind his palm, closed his eyes and sighed. “I apologize, but-” A dress shouldn’t be able to do that much, he thought. No, it was a scrub top, or maybe it was just you? “I promise I’m usually more composed.”

If it wasn’t for you playing with the slit on the thigh of your dress, he would’ve never noticed that little detail. “You are?”

Higuruma dropped his arms and approached you. “May I?”

You nodded.

As he began to slowly and softly entangled you in a kiss you kept pulling back, forcing him to follow you against the edge of your desk. You kept leaning back, sensing him trapping you between his arms as he leaned on the table.

“Sweetheart,” hot breath tickled your lower lip. “Let me close, please?” His dilated eyes pleaded alongside his voice. But his hands seemed to be a little less polite as they grabbed you by your hips, lifting you onto your desk while holding you still. When he felt like you were trying to move back again his hand quickly switched positions.

Composed was a funny thing to be with one hand on your bare thigh, the other keeping you still while he licked your bottom lip.

Higuruma’a neck guided every kiss and if his hair had been intact when he came in, it for certain was not now. The smooth pomade coated your fingers as you combed through. Occasionally you would tug forward, pushing him back in an attempt to catch your breath. The lack of air in his all-consuming kiss made you dizzy, and overly aware of your heart racing, pounding in your head as his tongue tasted yours.

The crease in between your thigh and hip felt the dull office air as Higuruma’s hand ran further up completely exposing your leg. That same hand trailed down your thigh to push you open at the knee, while his other hand snaked around your waist to pull you flush against him. After you wrapped your legs around his waist, you finally pulled away from his kiss to dive into his neck. You kissed up to his cheek, quickly pecked him, and then dipped back down to suck the skin near his collar bone. The pressure made him groan.

“Hiromi,” you sang against his neck.

Higuruma looked too dazed to realize he had lifted you off the table in the heat of the moment and was holding you in his arms. “Where’s your composure Hiromi?”

Visible warmth spread across his face as he came back from reality. Higuruma let you down. But he let his hand slide up your side and back down your arm to hold your hand. He kissed your knuckle and laughed. “And yours?”

At some point one of the panel lights went out within his indulgence, and you had not clocked out, so you quickly clicked around, logged out, and grabbed your bag.

“Let me take you home.” Higurumi was fixing his hair and lifting his collar. He also shamelessly watched as you fixed your dress, grinning.

#higuruma hiromi #hiromi higuruma #jjk higuruma #higuruma x reader #higuruma x you #higuruma x y/n #jujutsu sorcerer #jjk #chimimon writes

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kooahae · 1 year ago

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After Last Night: Work Visit

Read the previous drabble here.

Read the next drabble here.

Summary : something seems up with Jungkook so you go to his job to cheer him up.

Pairing: best friends to lovers, Jungkook X female reader

Warnings: Fluff, Smut, Big d!ck koo, oral (m.receiving) use of good girl bc well that’s what he called her the first time, office Jk is hot to me- he’s still a simp, cursing, swallowing, deep throating, they're down bad for each other as always <3

Word count: 2.5K

A/N: Before we get a little angst we have this and one more fluff drabble coming out hopefully this week- if not I’ll do my best to lyk when. School is kicking my ass but yeah me and my angsty babies will have our moment. I promise. As always thanks for reading 🩵

Minors DNI

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Today has been so long! Jungkook is beyond exhausted. He didn’t really want to be in the office at all today on top of it. He’s gotten used to working only 2 days in the office, and three at home due to his routine. The thought alone of his routine being disturbed pissed him off. Plus, He has been in serious work mode all week. He hasn’t even been able to just cuddle on the couch. You’ve been asleep the last 2 nights when he got home as well. You cuddle up to him like usual when he climbs into bed but damn, he’d do anything to just have a lazy day and not be in a rush to get up.

Apparently, his employees can’t follow simple directions. He’s been stuck reprogramming a new app for what seems like forever. He swears if it didn’t pay the bills, and If he wasn’t so good at it- He’d find something else to occupy his time. He wishes he got paid for all the times you cross his mind, that would be a lot better than being here -and he’d be filthy rich!

As Jungkook reaches into his pocket for his phone to call you, someone else rips his chance from him.

You have got to be fucking kidding.

“Oh, um..Mr. Jeon I just wanted to ask is it okay if I leave early today?” His assistant asks him.

Jungkook has never been someone who was extremely strict. He knows he’s younger than most of the people working for him and he’s been cool about a lot of things because of that. However, that does not mean they can walk all over him. They take time away from you when they don’t do their job and also add more problems than solutions lately. He’s simply fed up.

“Go into the meeting room and call everyone there please Duri.” He asks nicely, even though he doesn’t know why he keeps being so kind about it.

“Oh…okay sir. Will do. But i-“

Jungkook really doesn’t care. He’s not trying to be mean but today has been a shit show. Things could be going better than this. That’s all he’s hoping for.

“Duri…tell them they have thirty minutes. That means you too.” He points to the door, sitting his feet up on his desk.

His assistant stares blankly, so Jungkook squints, points again and tilts his head.

“By the time you’re done looking at me…There will be zero minutes.” He exhales placing his hands behind his head, as he watches Duri run out.

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Today you’ve decided to bring Jungkook lunch, he seemed so sluggish this morning. He gave you your good morning kisses but you can tell something is up. He didn’t even remember his banana milk. You’ve seen him do a lot of unusual things, but this weirdly enough takes the cake. The last time you even remember him acting like this, was when he swore he bombed an exam -He got the top score in his class, but that’s not the point. Jungkook genuinely only acts like this when there’s more work than he wants to do, or he feels burnt out. You know him the same way you know yourself, if not better. You have been thinking about him heavily today as well. You both could use a day off after this week, but life isn’t always that kind, you’ll just have to make do with your idea today.

You get dressed in a shirt of his since he likes you in them so much, a cute skirt and some shoes. Food and banana milk in tow, making sure you feed Bam on the way out.

Once you arrive you can hear him giving what may be a motivational speech in the conference room. Jungkook is so cool in your eyes. He has his own business at 23, which he started two years ago. His gym side-venture is thriving. You’re almost there with him but not quite yet, starting your own media company is in the works though, and it’s nice to have his support. It still amazes you how Jungkook can make his mind so quickly with business decisions. He’s really intelligent- that’s exactly what you love about him.

You realize you’ve been just standing in the entryway like a creep daydreaming about your boyfriend so you continue to walk forward and get closer to the door.

“Can someone explain to me why everyone thinks they can just leave early while I reprogram everything? “

Oh. That’s why he’s so tired.

You take note that no one responded, so there’s no reason he should have been left to do everything. He’s absolutely right. Your poor baby. you know how much of a perfectionist he is as well. He deserves some rest too though. You decide to keep listening.

“We’re supposed to be a team so I treat you fairly but this isn’t fair…I have someone waiting at home for me too.” He says.

That person is you- and that makes your heart do backflips, the butterflies in your tummy rise, and a smile creep upon your face. You now know why he’s been so out of it lately. He’s doing a lot of hard work, barely gets as much time home as his employees and he just misses spending time with you. You’ll definitely visit work more when he can’t be at home with you if it makes him feel better. You miss him too whenever you’re separated. It’s really refreshing to know he feels the same.

As for Jungkook. His heart is kind of heavy. He knows it hasn’t been that long but he’s really been stressed out lately, the past two weeks at work have been hell and he feels like he can’t catch a break. He just needs to be with you, somewhere he can relax. With someone who is his comfort place.

“Starting today we all do our delegated parts. I do mine. You do yours. We talk to each other about things beforehand that could affect other people’s schedules. Understood?” He asks. You can tell he doesn’t want to be that guy, but he also knows he’s been too nice until now.

“If you do your part I don’t care what you do afterward if you wanna go home so be it. But finish your task.”

He looks so withdrawn and tired. Watching everyone give him a head nod, you decide to just go sit in his office while he dismisses everyone.

He walks in completely irritated and immediately starts patting for his phone but then looks up to see you. Sitting on the loveseat in his office. Smiling and waving hello to him. The sun from the window lightly shines on you. You look like what you are- his angel.

“Hi, handsome!” You stand up and walk towards him.

“You’re really here? Like I’m not going crazy because I missed you?” He says waving his hand in his own face.

He’s always so silly. You hug his waist. Your face in his chest. He immediately hugs back. He doesn’t know how you knew he needed you, but he doesn’t care. He just appreciates the fact that you always show up for him. You always have.

“No, but you’re checking your hand silly to make sure you’re real. Instead, you should be kissing me to make sure I’m real…” you say peaking your head up and poking your lips out.

“You’re so cute. “ He says leaning down to kiss you. Cupping your face in his hand. Lips smacking gently against yours. His kisses are so soft and feel divine.

“I’m. sorry. I’m. not. home. “ he says a kiss between every word.

You pull away and look up at him he’s still holding your face so you place a hand on his forearm.

“Don’t apologize for working. I’m glad you stood up for yourself and I’m even happier to be here with you.” You say and lean back in for another kiss.

“How am I so lucky?” He says as you both finally pull away.

“Makes two of us! I brought you lunch and even brought my laptop too.…”

Jungkook sits in his office chair and you climb on his lap. Straddling him.

He immediately reaches for the remote that closes the blinds. Not that anyone can see his office from where they sit but just in case they thought of approaching him.

You wrap your arms around his neck.

“If you’re gonna be bored and have to be here, let’s be bored and overworked, responsible people together…” You say leaving a kiss on his neck.

“…I can rub your shoulders while you code. You can fill me in on everything I missed this week.”

He hisses at the sensation of your neck kisses. Hands running up and down your sides.

“I really missed you.” He says and puts a finger on your chin to tilt your head to his. Kissing you yet again.

Then he continues. “Don’t want to work, just want to be with you” He’s always pouting, so you do what anyone would do in your situation-Pull his bottom lip in, and suck on it gently then let it go with a pop.

That’s when an idea pops into your head.

Jungkook’s office is spacious, and you can tell he needs to decompress, so maybe you’ll …

“Don’t work then, let me do it.” You say and push the chair back a little bit so you can stand up.

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, “ Aren’t you supposed to do your work?”

“I will.” You say and he looks up at you. Standing in front of him with your head tilted- fucking cute, he also takes note of how you made sure to wear his shirt.

“Baby you don’t really like coding… I tried teaching you before unless it’s a blog or something-“ you interrupt him.

You place your hands on his thighs, hovering, still standing, and kissing him.

“If I do a good job on it, we go home.” You state matter of factly. Almost like you’re making a deal, that you know you’ve won.

He chuckles “Who’s work mine or yours?”

“Mmm it’s my task but…” Jungkook watches as your fingers dance closer to his crotch.

“You’re the work.” You finish your statement dropping to your knees.

You love the way he looks at you from above. Biting his lip and tilting his head slightly.

Jungkook raises his hips so you can unfasten the button on his trousers.

“Gotta be quiet princess-oh shitt.”

Jungkook’s head falls back as your hand strokes up and down his length. He knew he was the task- but if you’re about to suck him off here, his work day has had the best turn of events possible.

“I’m gonna make you feel good, okay?” he nods breathlessly, It’s interesting how you both have the same effect on each other.

“Don’t you always.” He says rolling his head forward to watch you. His mouth is drawn out into an ‘O’ shape, You know how much eye contact turns him on and you haven’t broken it yet. He looks fucked out and you’ve barely done anything.

You spit on his dick and move your hands up, your pumps are perfect and have him bring his lip more and more at the sensation.

“Babygirl, I think that’s enough teasing.”

You shake your head no and look up at him through your lashes.

“How can you look at me like that knowing I’ll rip your clothes to shreds if -Fuck.” You don’t mean to interrupt him. You promise. You just really notice all the precum oozing from his tip and can’t help but put your mouth on it. Sucking on the head of his dick like the good girl you’ve shown him you can be. He deserves it though

If you kept teasing him, you knew he would edge you non-stop later as well - and you’re already soaking through your panties.

As you look up at Jungkook once more, you slide his entire length in your mouth at once, His shoulders relax and his hand comes to your hair and moves it out of your face.

He has a thing for visuals, you happen to be his favorite.

You rest at the base and keep your eyes on him as you bob up and down. Jungkook is massive, He’s really impressed that you can take him the way you do, and suck him so effortlessly. All of it makes him hard whenever he thinks about it. This is going to be engraved in his brain forever.

You finally lift up and Jungkook watches the drool from your lips that’s attached to his cock as well.

You moan at the sight of how red, swollen, and slobbery you have his dick, before going back in for more.

Jungkook’s moans have been turning you on, he sounds so good and it’s making you never want to stop as you suck the soul out of him.

You start to moan too, rubbing your thighs together for friction. He just looks so fucking good! You could cum from the visual in front of you as well

“Look at you sucking my dick like a good girl, so fucking pretty!” He says gripping your hair up more so he can enjoy his view.

You go all the way down once more, then tighten your lips as you come back to the head of his dick, moaning so he feels the vibrations go down his shaft.

“Just like that baby.” He says encouraging you.

You continue deep throating him, watching his knees get weaker even though he’s in the chair, he looks like he’s barely holding on. Fully concentrating on the way he looks at you with lusty eyes but can’t contain his moans.

Your hand starts palming his balls as you feel him deep in your throat.

“Fuck baby girl, I’m gonna cum soon- oh my fucking god!” He’s trying his best to be quiet. You really hope his coworkers can’t hear him, but a part of you doesn’t care as long as he feels better.

Jungkook is close and you nonverbally ask him with the look you give him for confirmation, just to double-check. He’s panting and can barely answer you.

“Y-ye-yes baby.” He finally manages to muster out.

You swirl your tongue up and down as you continue deep-throating him. It’s all so sloppy and messy. Your eyes are a little watery too, but you won’t stop until you swallow every last drop.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” His chants and breathing are erratic which means…

Jungkook pushes your head all the way down and bites his lip, looking at you as he cums all down your throat. It’s so warm and thick. You moan and feel his hand slip from your hair to your neck as he pushes himself further one more time.

He pulls all the way out and you gasp but stick your tongue out to show him you’ve swallowed every last drop.

You rise to your feet and sit on his desk, but he stands all the way up and towers over you. Lips brush across yours before he leans into your neck and leaves a kiss right below your ear lobe.

“I’d love to bend you over here but let’s go home. I want to hear you scream.”

You don’t have to be told twice!

So back home you go- the both of you.

Taglist : @joyfulwobblerhoagieegg @diorh0seokie @jennafromhome @taesungx @kimber-kook @whoa-jo @kaiparkerwifes @yoonglesbby07 @bangtansoneyondanfan

#jungkook smut #jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook x you #aln x kooahae #after last night x kooahae #aln #aln: the drabbles #bangtan smut

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kyleemclauren · 15 days ago

Text

"Rednote heavily censors LGBTQ+ content!" As opposed to Facebook, whose moderation polices explicitly carve out exceptions to harass trans people; or Twitter, where the word "cisgender" is considered hate speech. Gay marriage only became legal across the country in mid-2015, let's not pretend we've always been some progressive utopia.

Biden, Trump, and Obama each deported over a million people. The border internment camps still exist. Even including the million+ Uyghur Muslims in detention, China's incarceration rate is still lower than ours. We're using prison slaves to fight the California wildfires right now.

It's possible to say a bunch of things in the US, but that's not because we have great free speech. It's because our censorship works by making it difficult to talk about an issue, not impossible. Our newspapers and social media are owned by giant corporations and billionaires. Pro-Luigi content is widely suppressed, pro-Palestine content is widely suppressed, and anything more left wing than reformist capitalism is routinely suppressed. There are no privacy laws, your car is spying on you. Your phone is selling your location. Your TV is selling your watch history. Your purchase history is for sale. Your search history is for sale. Your political party registration and whether or not you voted is for sale.

In the United States schools are banning books, credit card companies are banning porn, and YouTube will take away your income if you mention suicide or swear. God help you if you play a few seconds of copyrighted music.

A counsel of nine unelected people are absolute dictators here. They gave the president absolute immunity too, for anything he can credibly claim was an official act. Congress is elected by legal gerrymandering. Police officers have nearly absolute immunity to commit crimes. Billionaires can do whatever the hell they want. I don't know where the citizen democracy is when marijuana usage is still technically a felony, despite almost 90% of the country wanting it made legal.

There isn't jack shit we get for any of this, either. Our gun laws are atrocious. Our homelessness problem is out of hand. We don't get livable cities, transit, or infrastructure. We certainly don't have health care. Our job market is trash. Our wages are trash. Our food prices are outrageous. We barely fund our schools or pay our teachers. But we spend almost a trillion dollars a year on our military! I tried for a good 20 minutes to write a followup sentence for that wasn't just incoherent swearing, and this note is the best I came up with.

All of this is the tip of the iceberg, it's corrupt all the way down and there is no set of reforms that can possibly fix it. It needs to be torn down, and built again from scratch. There is no alternative, all we are going through is pointless suffering so billionaires can get richer. How long are we going to wait!? What signs are we looking for that something needs to change? How much more obviously broken does the system need to be before people are ready to leave?

We are in an abusive relationship, and we need to get out, now. China will keep my data safe from the US government, I'm damn sure of that.

#rednote #politics #censorship #tiktok #xiaohongshu #new constitution #political abuse

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yuwuta · 7 months ago

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I LOVE UR BRAIN SO BAD 😭😭😭 YOU ALWAYS POST THEBBEST HEADCANONS AND THOUGHTS LIKE. WORK HUSBAND GOJO. AND JUST HAVING A WHOLE IMAGINATION OF THE OFFICE W NANAMI AND HIGURUMA AND TOJI I?????? I WANT TO LIVE IN YOUR BRAIN

TEEHEEEE you’re so sweet <33333 the work husband to actual husband to househusband gojo pipeline is so so real to me and the office au that comes with it truly does take up space in my brain, so here’s some more loosely established points

satoru has been your work husband since you got your first job in undergrad. you two met in your dorms, and became friends, and eventually you thought a job would help with your time management skills, so you got a very low-maintenance position at the front desk of the library. satoru applied right after you and schmoozed the two little old librarians into giving him the same shifts as you. that was probably the first moment satoru knew he was a little bit in love with you—because he had no reason to have a job while in school, but this small change in your schedule made him miss you so much that he was moved to get his very first job, probably ever, just to spend more time with you.

he wasn’t bad at his library receptionist job, but he technically wasn’t good at it, either. if a student asked him for a laptop charger or to check out a book or something, he could do that, but anything else he’d just smile and say, “oh, you’ve gotta ask the pretty girl right there about that, she knows way more than me,” and bat his eyelashes at you. except, then, when you did need to get up to grab something for someone, satoru would just spring up instead, and tell you he’s got it. it’s like… he was incapable of helping anybody else unless he got to flirt with you, and then help you out to help them out……… strange boy

anyways, satoru makes it a habit to assist you through your student jobs throughout undergrad, and then follows you to the same law school and repeats the process there. (also not to elle woods-ify him a bit but his father heavily questions him going to law school btw because satoru has never showed any interest in working, let alone following in his footsteps to be a lawyer, and now he’s going to law school? his mom is a bit sharper though, because when satoru tells his parents he’s going to the same law school as you, she just smiles and sips her tea and wonders if her son has already made a trip to their family jeweler).

the firm is large, but the floor you work on is a pretty close knit group. there’s hiromi’s office at the tail end, which is the largest because he’s managing partner and he practically lives in there. on the other end, both you and nanami have decently sized offices. satoru doesn’t like hiromi at first because he thinks he’s mean. then satoru watches him play a little prank on kento, and suddenly the two of them are best friends. it would be a surprisingly wholesome friendship if their common denominator wasn’t irritating kento, and acting as guard dogs for you.

kento’s office used to be just the bare necessities—law books, his degree, basic furniture, maybe a fancy paperweight, until satoru got his hands on it and decked it out. which is not something kento asked for, nor he thinks is necessary, but that doesn’t stop satoru from continually adding little trinkets and decorations and art to his office to make it livelier. when kento first meets you, he’s surprised when you tell him satoru gojo is going to be your secretary because kento interned for satoru’s father for two summers during law school, but when kento sees you and satoru together for the first time, it answers all of his questions. satoru couldn’t be more of a lovesick fool if he tried.

listen the ex-convict to single father to janitor to lawyer toji pipeline is so real to me. while toji is working as a janitor at the firm, satoru slips once and then jokes that toji shines the floors too aggressively on purpose to make him slip, toji tells him to fuck off and he can sue for harassment. they truly don’t like each other at first, but once satoru steals toji’s masterkey to get into your office one night after you’re gone to leave flowers, and handle some paperwork to lighten your load in the morning, toji is sort of impressed. he still almost hits him with a broomstick, but even someone as gruff as him can see that satoru had pure intentions. toji is a lot of things, but he’s not immune to or devoid of love or passion. so, eventually he and satoru develop a weird sort of banter and respect for each other. one day someone actually tries to accuse toji of not putting the wet floor sign down and how it’s gonna be a lawsuit because some lowlife janitor fucked up his $3000 suit. satoru catches the argument as he’s heading upstairs and recognized the schmuck as the stuck up lawyer on the other side of kento’s case. satoru’s ready to jump in, but toji’s displaying an impressive amount of physical restraint and legal knowledge that when the dust is all settled, satoru asks him if he ever considered being a lawyer. toji laughs at it at first, but after a month of serious consideration (and megumi becoming a college freshman), he figures it can’t be all that bad. and turns out, toji’s a half-decent lawyer—once you’ve spent so much of your life skirting (or blatantly breaking) the law, you become pretty good at getting people out or around it, too. and with his life experience, he’s a pretty good judge of character; so when it comes time to lock up the bad ones, toji makes sure they get the maximum sentence.

except he has a bad habit of sending out emails with “URGENT: NEEDS ATTN” in the subject, which prompts you, kento, and hiromi to rush to his office, just to see toji with his feet up on his desk tell you that, “the emergency is i hate the opposing counsel, and now that i work on this side of the law i’d really like to not kill him, so somebody else should take this case.”

anyways back to work husband secretary satoru. he pulls you out of boring meetings under the guise of an urgency, just for him to admit that the emergency is that he missed you, and you two were gonna be late for your lunch reservation. because he’s actually a licensed attorney, he can actually carry out duties an associate otherwise would, which saves you a lot of time and trouble; and it means that satoru gets to work even more closely with you, which is always an upside for him. sometimes you ask him to hand you documents and instead he just hands you his hand. and then pretends to blush and preen like a schoolgirl which always draws way too much attention to the two of you, but there’s no way to stop him either. he takes your coat off of your shoulders when you arrive in the morning, and helps you put it back on in the evening. when you tell him you’re looking for an apartment closer to the firm, he has eight places lined up for viewing, and one surprise at the end which happens to be the other vacant penthouse suite in his apartment building; which, conveniently, would make you satoru’s neighbor. he claims that it’ll be just like in college, but it certainly doesn’t feel that way when you finally move in and satoru can now loudly and proudly proclaim, “see you at home!” in the halls at work now.

#answered #that was a lot..... sorry this universe is so vivid to me #maybe i should rewatch suits..............#tho the first time you actually go on A Date with a real dude nothing work related satoru crumbles #he's so quiet at work for the entire day everyone thinks he must be sick or something #the day after your date he's sort of back to normal but something is off.... you don't bring up the date tho so he takes that a good sign #for him at least bc if u have nothing to say u must not have found him all that interesting righ t #but then you briefly mention a second date and now satoru has to get serious #and by serious i mean dig up everything there is to possibly dig up on this guy #way past public records he's calling favors as the DA's office he's calling his dad he's calling moles in the police. if this dude is gonna #be serious about you then he better be squeaky clean #except satoru 100% gets caught by kento who tells him that he needs to stop digging up dirt on ur date #which makes satoru pout and whine but whatever he'll drop it (only bc kento reminds him that if You find out ur gonna be Pissed)#then he really goes back to being himself but 10x #arm around your shoulder driving you everywhere himself introducing himself to ur date with the most smug grin on his face #it doesnt take long for this guy to get uncomfortable/ask you whats up with you and satoru and in the end satoru drives him away anyway #he might not be able to confess to you but he sure can keep everybody else away #besides theres only so many hours in the day u should focus on the important things: him and work 😇#jjk x reader #satoru x reader #lawyer au #satoru.ask

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pyramid-of-starrs · 1 year ago

Note

14!!!!!!

Come sit in my office

Kinktober request: 14 Crush Jongho, thighs

Pairing: Manager Jongho x Employee afab gn! reader

Summary: On the day of Halloween when you should be out with your friends getting shit faced you're stuck at work in your slutty costume. After being sent to your managers office you find out a very interesting fact about Jongho that makes you want to explore it further. But you make an embarrassing mistake that leads you into something else.

Word Count: 2.1K

Kink: Thighs

Warning: Thigh riding, thigh fucking

Minors dni

Halloween was usually super fun, dressing up going to parties, or fucking a random guy in a dumb little costume, but not this year. You were finally selected to be one of the few workers at your retail job in the mall to work the night shift for Halloween. Usually, you wouldn't be upset about shifts, but since the mall owner is super into Halloween every year, he would have the Mall and stores stay open till 11 pm instead of 8 pm to hand out candy to kids and help parents get last-minute costume supplies. In your 2 years working at the store you were able to dodge Halloween hell shift, the name given by all the other employees, but 3rd times the charm huh? Though it sounds easy and simple it's usually bratty and entitled kids with their rude or super-stressed parents. After begging everyone to take the shift and ending up with no luck you just bit the bullet and stayed, at least you still got to dress up, but of course this year you chose to be a slutty murdered school girl, oh well.

After hours of dealing with kids and getting judgy side eyes from parents as you folded clothes with your coworker, you heard your manager's voice through the walkie earpiece used to communicate with everyone in the store.

"Y/N, can you come see me in my office."

You sighed heavily, your coworker giggling at you and then making an "oooh" sound to tease you for possibly getting in trouble. You put the clothes in your hand down and walked to the back then stopped to knock at your manager's office.

"Come in." He shouted from the other side, you opened the door to see your lavender hair manager not wearing his usual business casual clothes but opting for a sporty look today as he was filling out papers in front of his laptop.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Choi?"

"Ah, Y/N come in and take a seat for me." He said as he stuck his hand out to wave you to the chair propped in front of his desk.

You took a seat as your bare ass hit the cloth chair due to how short your skirt was, it made you cringe a bit because you knew the discoloration from the chair was from it not being cleaned, at least your thigh highs protected you from your thighs meeting the same fate.

"So what's up boss?" you said as you looked at him. He finally put his pen down to look over you before he responded.

"Well Y/N, I've gotten a few... let's say comments... about your choice of costume for today." He said trying to be sensitive about the matter.

"Oh yeah well this was all I had since I had plans for Halloween this year before I got scheduled." You said looking over yourself.

"Right and what are you supposed to be?" He questioned.

"A murdered school girl but like, spicy 'cause I'm an adult." you said nonchalantly.

"Okay... and you deemed that appropriate to wear to work."

"No but I deemed it good enough to wear for tonight's shift." you said quickly. "What's wrong with it? Too much thighs and boobs showing? Do you not like my thighs Mr. Choi?" you said teasing him, your manager was usually very conservative and you and your coworkers loved teasing him because of that.

He cleared his throat before replying. "I-I can assure you that I have no issues with your thighs Y/N I meant the par-"

"Oooh no issues with them huh? Then why call me back here? I get you would rather die than show skin but some of us aren't afraid."

Before he could reply he stood up to reveal one of the most gorgeous things you've ever seen, his thick horse-like thighs in a pair of gym shorts.

"As you can see from my clever gym teacher costume, I too am showing thigh, I just wanted to let you know the parents had an issue... I actually don't mind your thighs." He said the last part quietly.

You marveled at his legs for a moment before he spoke again.

"J-just get back to work and stay behind the counter okay? Remember me and you are on closing duty tonight so don't leave with everyone else." He said as he sat back down and continued to work. You nodded stood up and returned to the floor.

After hours, 11 pm finally hit and you couldn't be more excited but nervous. Though you could try to finally meet back up with your friends for late-night moves all you could think about was being trapped with your hot manager and his newly discovered meaty thighs. You never knew you had a thing for muscle legs or Jongho the prude, again a name given by co-workers, until now. Everyone started to leave and you did your rounds in the store while Jongho locked up, then you two met back up to collect the money from the registers and take it to the office to count it. You sat at the chair in front of his desk again so you could count the money and he locked the office door and collected the credit card receipts to count those. Being in the locked office with him for some reason made your heart pound and even worse made your clit kind of throb as you stared at his lavender locks and his tanned skin as he stayed focused. You started to shift a bit in the chair then crossed one leg over the other to cause some friction to calm you down, you kept restarting your money count and Jongho finally noticed.

"Everything okay Y/N?" He looked up at you.

"Huh? Oh! Yeah, everything is just peachy." You smiled nervously, scared that you would be caught using your thighs to rub your tingling heat.

He examined your flushed and nervous face before speaking again. "Look I know what this is about Y/N, and I can assure you, there is nothing to be embarrassed about okay? I don't want things to be awkward here."

"Y-you do know? S-so you didn't mind?" You couldn't believe he noticed and... didn't mind it?

"Of course not Y/N, I told you I didn't have a problem with it, I actually like it." He flashed a warm smile at you.

You felt your core start to pound hearing him say he liked it, he liked watching you fall apart like this? Jongho the prude rumors debunked.

"Well, can I ask you something then?" You said shyly.

"Of course, anything." He continued to smile seeing you not as tense.

"Well since you liked it... c-can I maybe... ride your thigh?" You said still shy. Jongho looked at you with his eyebrows lifted thinking maybe he misheard your request, you two sat in pure silence looking at each other for a moment.

"I-uh-w-what are we talking about?" He said sounding like he was malfunctioning.

"Wait- What were you talking about?" You said as panic started to set in.

"I was talking about how you may have been embarrassed by your costume after our talk and I was trying to say it was okay and that I liked it." His voice was panicking too at this point.

"Oh my God I thought you noticed how turned on I was since you showed me your thighs-" Why the hell did you just admit that out loud? "Oookay gotta go- you can fire me it's cool" You started to hurry and grab your bag and headed for the door, Jongho walked from around his desk to grab your arm.

"D-do you want to do that with me for real?" He said trying to avoid eye contact and you got a glance at his red face.

You paused in front of the door, your face heating up and you turned to look at his cute little shy face.

"I mean..."

...

Welp, here you were sitting on your manager's thigh with your skirt off while he sat in his office chair, you were facing him and holding his strong shoulders while he held your waist. The only thing separating your core from his thigh is your thin thong, he could already feel the dampness on his bare thigh.

"Ready?" You asked him.

"Yeah... as long as you are." He said, you nodded as a reply then started to slowly rock your hips on too his thigh, the friction of your clit rubbing his strong legs was like a water hose putting out a fire, you and Jongho both looked down and watched as your hips moved at a steady pace, small breathy whimpers came out of your lips.

"You're so cute Y/N, does this feel good for you?" He looked up at you to ask, you nodded once again. Jongho moved his hands to grip your thighs where your thigh highs and your skin met, he pulled you back and forth faster, your whimpers developed into full moans while your heat started to drool more and create a trail of your slick on his thigh.

"Mr. Choi it feels so good." You said sounding out of breath. You still calling him Mr. Choi in this moment made his dick start to rise.

"What I said earlier was true Y/N, I like your thigh too." He said as his grip was tighter and his thumbs started to rub your inner thighs. You were like ice as you melted under his touch.

"When I saw you come into my office wearing that skimpy little costume It took everything in me not to lay you across my desk and lick and suck them." your hips started to move sloppily from his words, and you felt your climax rushing at you all from riding him like this but before you could come he lifted you off of him and placed you on the desk, swiping everything on the floor and laying you back.

"These thighs are so pretty I probably won't even need to fuck your pretty little pussy to cum. I can put my dick between them and fuck you just like that, would you like that?" He hovered over you as he pressed his hard dick onto your leg.

"Yes please Mr. Choi, use my thighs to cum." He didn't say a word, he swiftly removed your wet panties to reveal your oozing core. He pulled his pants and underwear down and his member sprung out, nice and thick just like everything else on his body, he brought his hand to your lips and simply said "Spit" so you did, he used your spit to lube his dick and pumped it few times before pulling you down to the edge of the desk and spreading your legs a bit to place his hard dick between your soft thighs. He kept your thigh highs on because he loved the way they squeezed you. Gripping both your thighs he closed his dick between them and started to move back and forth, your slick acted as a natural lube along with your saliva, his rod rubbing your sensitive-edged clit was already driving you crazy but the wet and sticky feeling on his hot rod made you want to combust.

"Your thighs are so warm Y/N, it feels so good I might cover them in cum." his hands gripping the back them tighter as he hissed at the sensation, you were a moaning mess and the thought of him shooting his load onto was almost your end.

"I bet you wore this outfit just for me to fuck these pretty legs, did you want me to see that bad baby, are you that hot for my attention?" He grunted out as his strokes sped up. You didn't pin Jongho the prude to be this hot sex-talking guy but fuck were you happy you found out.

"Mr. Choi please- I'm going to cum." his pace sped up even more, his dick sloppily running over your dripping wet pussy.

"Mm I am too baby Cum for me cum for Mr. Choi." he hissed back, his hips and yours bucking together, spews of curse words came from your soft lips as you came, your slick completely coating the bottom side of his dick and balls, Jongho shot his load as well, his hot cum dripping down onto you and some shooting up to your shirt. He finished his breathing came back to earth to realize he ruined your clothes and hurried to grab the tissue box that he had knocked on the floor earlier to hand to you.

"S-sorry about that, I know you said you were going to a costume party with your friends, feel free to make a last-minute outfit with anything out there and I pay for it." He said feeling genuinely bad.

"Jongho, fuck that party, we still have more work to do here."

#ateez smut #ateez fanfic #atz smut #jongho x reader #jongho smut #choi jongho smut #choi jongho x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #writenbypyramidofstars

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago

Text

Same as it ever was 4

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: Oh my, we be sad gurls and bois.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

When Pete rumbles with snores, you move to the couch, hoping for what little sleep you can summon. You can't lay there beside him knowing what you know. You can't steam in the spite of knowing that he can sleep just soundly while sneaking around.

Two wrongs can never make right. You're not absolved. Far from it. You're mad. At him. At yourself. At life.

As you drift in and out, the apathy comes. You can't care. If you let yourself feel, you'll fall apart. You don't have that choice. Someone has to hold it together for the kids.

You get up first, like most mornings. You're restlessly impatient to get the day started if only to get away from that house. From the husband who isn't much of one.

Simone and Malik sit at the table eating cereal as you check your phone. You're on track so far. As if fate is throwing you a soft ball, the morning is going smoother than ever.

You get the kids packed and in the car. Every step is taken on habit alone. You walk them to the school doors and wish them a good day. Then you go back to your car and idle in silence. You're empty, you have nothing left.

You make yourself pull out and join the snailish roll of traffic through the school zone. Your drive to work is over before you know it as you stay locked in a trance. Before you just went through the motions, now it's like you're a ghost, floating aimlessly from one place to the next.

You enter the office, the walls a blur in your vision as you find your way blindly to your desk. Your head is pounding. Amid your early morning scramble, your desperation for distraction, to think of anything but reality, you hadn't even had a coffee. Your entire being throbs from the caffeine withdrawal.

You cup your forehead as you boot your computer. Eventually you'll get up and grab a cup of the weak break room brew. You lean heavily on the armrest of the chair and wiggle your mouse.

For once, you're thankful to be at work. No fighting kids, no laundry, no scoundrel husband. But you're there and it's just as hard to live with yourself.

"Morning, sunshine," Mr. Hansen's booming tone has you careening back in your chair as he comes to lean on the corner of your desk, "aren’t you bright-eyed and bushy tailed. Long night, huh? Husband finally loosen you up a bit."

You give him the daggers. That look that says 'enough'. Your motherly chagrin blazing at full force. He winks and laughs as he taps the end of your nose.

"You're real cute when you're pissed off, you know that?" He puts a hand on his hip, smoothing his index and thumb of his other across his mustache.

"Mr. Hansen," your voice is gravelly with dry fatigue, "is there something I can do for you?"

"Well, I can think of a certain wakemeup," he snickers, "but I'm thinking that you're not really into it. Still, you look like you could use it."

You huff and turn your chair to glare up at him. Can't he bother anyone else? He had his fun, he humiliated you, he made you hate yourself. So what else does he want?

"If you don't mind," you push your chair back and stand, "I'm going to get some coffee."

"Oh, sounds fun," he shoves away from the desk and trails after you, surprising you as he stretches and arm across your shoulders, "this company shit, it's garbage. How about I make you my own personal brew? I got a keurig in my office, just got some French Vanilla–"

"No thank you," you grumble and pull away from him.

You enter the kitchen first as he continues his incessant pursuit. He likes Malik when he wants to tell you about his legoworld. You go to the machine and find the carafe empty. You rinse it and fill the tank.

"You're mad about yesterday," he says as he leans on the counter, "if you're into snuggling, you coulda stuck around–"

"No," you growl as you measure out the coffee grounds.

"I let you go take care of the crotch goblin so I thought we'd be square–"

"Mr. Hansen, it's not you," you close the lid and flip the switch, "really."

"Ah, got it, it's the hubby. He's not taking care of his marital duties, huh?"

"Please, sir, it's not… it's not that," you falter as the lie sticks on your tongue. "Tired, need coffee."

"You look like you need sleep," he shifts closer as you stare at the slow trickle of coffee, "tell you what," he lowers his voice, "you come in my office, give me a good tug and I'll let you sleep in a meeting room. How's that? I'll make sure you get your eight hours."

You open the cupboard, taking out your mug from the bunch of mismatched porcelain, and set it on the counter. You can't even look at him. Not only because he repulses you but he reminds you of how pathetic you truly are.

"I'm good," you insist, "thank you, sir."

He scoffs, "I'm giving you something you're not getting elsewhere. Action and sleep," he runs his knuckles up your sleeve, "beggars can't be choosers, can they?"

You look at him. You're so fucking exhausted that your eyes are too dry to eke out a single tear. It's the only thing keeping you from tipping over the edge.

He smirks and looks at your blouse, reaching to pinch one of the front buttons, "look at that, all put together."

You glance down at the misaligned buttons. You don't even care. You're a mess. You're old and used up and unwanted. Even he only wants to get off, it doesn't matter who does it. At the end of the day, he'll be just as happy to do it himself.

You're speechless. It's nothing like shock. It's exasperation. Are all men really like this? Is this what Pete does? Is she some girl at the company?

"Forget it," you take your empty mug and spin in your low orthotics.

You stride out and stumble to your desk. You can do this. You just have to get through the day. And then what?

Get the kids, go home, cook dinner, do homework, bath time, bed for them, clean the endless mess…

Tomorrow? The same thing, over and over, until what? Until when? When do you admit defeat?

Hansen struts out of the breakroom. You look up as you see him sipping from a mug; your mug. He meets your gaze as he drinks deeper and passes by.

You wonder the same thing about him; when will he give up?

🗄️

You feel yourself slumping lower and lower. Your eyelids are scratchy and burning as you fight to keep them open. You cup your chin in your hand, elbow planted on your desk as the emails blur before you. You can do this…

In a minute, you’ll get up and get a coffee, undisturbed, and really start working. You won’t fall asleep. How could you? Right here in your office chair. On the best nights, you can barely sleep in your own bed. Lately, it’s only been bad nights.

Once you find the energy, you’ll get up. You swear you will. It’s all you have to look forward to. That cup of coffee. You can smell it. You know it��s burnt by now, stale and bitter, but your stomach growls for it.

A few more minutes.

You hear snorts, strange noises that seem to rumble from within you. The clacking of keys and soft clicks continue, almost forming a rhythm as your screen ripples to bars of colours. You feel a weight over you and a sudden shift.

You hit the floor, bouncing on your ass as your seat hits your shoulder. You look up as you awake, only realising then that you dozed off. You blink at your coworkers before focusing on the figure glaring down at you. Mr. Hansen has a hand in his pocket and a foot on the bottom of your chair. Shit.

“Working hard,” he muses tritely.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stutter, disoriented. You can’t believe you fell asleep. You hope this is just a dream, if so. “I… I didn’t–”

“Get up,” he demands.

You scramble to get to your feet. You reach for the chair and he kicks it further away. You’re overly aware of your audience. No one will look directly at you in fear that they might draw Hansen’s attention, but it’s obvious by the lack of typing that they are very aware of the scene.

“I’m very sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to. I was– I’ll stay awake. You don’t have to worry.”

“Go home,” he says curtly.

“Home? No, I can make it through the day. It was a mistake.”

“Go. Home.” He repeats pointedly, “this isn’t a hotel.”

“Please,” you murmur, “please, Mr. Hansen,” you clutch your hands together, trying not to speak too loud, embarrassed as your voice cracks, “I–”

“Don’t make me call security,” he warns as he steps back on one heel, his posture victorious. He arches a brow in challenge. You’re certain he’d love to see that, you dragged out like an intruder. “Come back Monday, well-rested, and HR will deal with your disciplinary report.”

“What?” You gulp. In all your time there, you’d never been written up. Not once.

“Keep digging that hole.”

“Okay, okay,” you go to your desk and open the drawer to pull your bag out. You hook it on your shoulder and turn around, nearing him as you reach for the coat hung on the back of your chair. He watches you with a smug smirk, “I’ll be back Monday.”

“We’ll see.”

His ominous words put you on edge. You recoil and stare at him. What does he mean by that? You’re not stupid enough to ask. You put your head down and march out, burning with embarrassment as you pass your rapt audience.

“Hey,” Hansen claps his hands, “back to work.”

🗄️

You barely make it home. You set an alarm as you get in the front door and collapse on the couch. You don’t care that it’s lumpy and uncomfortable, you don’t care about anything. You forget all your worries for the blackness that clogs your mind.

As quickly as you close your eyes, your ringer goes off. You wake with a groan and roll over, shoulders cramped and stiff as you reach for your phone. Two o’clock already. Your head pulses with the dregs of fatigue. You feel marginally better.

You fill a travel mug and head out to pick up the kids. Along the way, you can’t help but shrink behind the wheel as the morning pricks in your mind. You don’t expect things to go well on Monday.

You pass a Burger King and slow down. You don’t have the money for a Whopper. No, that’s not what you’re thinking. It’s not spending you’re planning on.

You pull in and get out. You enter and approach the counter, sheepish as a twentysomething greets you from the other side. You smile as you come forward.

“How can I help you ma’am?” He asks, hands on the side of the till.

“Oh, uh, I was… I was looking for an application,” you eke out. “For a job.”

He nods, you see the surprise flick in his lashes, “oh, well, we don’t have physical applications anymore but…” he reaches over to a stack of small flyers beside the till, “if you scan this QR code it will take you right to careers page.”

“Um, right, yeah, makes sense,” you take the slip as he offers it, “thank you.”

“You lookin’ to order?” He prompts with a strained smile.

“No, sorry, I gotta go get my kids,” you fold the flier and turn away, “have a good one.”

You head back to your car. You drop into the driver seat and curse. Fuck, your hips are killing you. You don’t imagine doing weekends standing behind a till will do much for that but you don’t have much of a choice. Even with the second job, you doubt you’ll be able to pay for the babysitter to cover it. What a stupid idea.

You shove the flier into your purse and back out from between the lines. You check the time as you set out to the school. You arrive just as the bell rings and the kids are let out into the yard.

You find Malik with the other grade ones as Simone seeks you out on her own, too cool to hang around with the other grade sixes. She can be a bit of a loner but not in a sad way. She can intimidate even you.

“Hey, how was school?” You ask as you take them to the car, “did you do anything fun?”

Malik tells you about the popsicle stick houses they made as you buckle him into his car seat and Simone does up her seat belt on her own. You nod and smile, humouring your son’s slightly lisping story.

“What about you, Simone?” You ask as you look over at her.

“I just read. I’m almost done number four,” she shows the cover of her latest fantasy series, “but they wouldn’t let me stay in the library during recess.”

“Good, you need the fresh air,” you tease, “speaking of, I was thinking we could go for a hike this weekend. How does that sound?”

“A hike?” She grimaces, “is dad coming?”

“Err, we’ll see,” you shrug, “I spend all day in the office, I’d like to get out before the winter gets here.”

“I’ll go if dad does,” Simone opens her book, “it won’t be any fun without him.”

“Daddy, daddy,” Malik claps his hands, “I love daddy!”

“I’ll ask him,” you nod and keep a frown from tugging at your lips.

You stand straight and gently close the back door. You round to the driver’s door and get it, quiet as you turn the engine. You’re not even good enough for your own kids.

#lloyd hansen #pete brenner #dark lloyd hansen #dark pete brenner #dark!lloyd hansen #dark!pete brenner #lloyd hansen x reader #pete brenner x reader #fic #series #dark fic #dark!fic #au #same as it ever was #the gray man #pain hustlers

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mxckiemxn · 8 months ago

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An ask request please like it's a doctor jungkook x reader au

Really don't know from where it came from 😅

I loved this omg! Sorry it took me so long to get to 😅. I hope you enjoy, love! ~Mackie 💜

Pairing: Doctor!Jungkook x reader

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, swearing, mentions of blood, bad breakup, the whole thing happens in a doctor's office, kinda angsty, brief mentions of-sex, alcohol, and tobacco (checkup questions)

@rkive-joonie

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat in the waiting room, subconsciously tapping your foot against the floor as you scrolled through your phone. You hated going to the doctor’s office. Something about the entire experience triggered anxiety to brew within you. Maybe it was the way that the air felt heavier in the building. Maybe it was the sterile smell that lingered, or maybe it was the fact that you couldn’t go to the doctor without being reminded of your ex. Regardless, you avoided it whenever you could.

Your ex, Jungkook, was a doctor. The two of you had been high school sweethearts, and you never thought that your relationship would end. I mean, both of you frequently discussed marriage and building a family together. That dream slowly dwindled to dust as the two of you got older. Something about his work weighed heavily on him. He began bringing his work home with him, and as a result, he dumped it onto you. Suddenly, the couple who never fought over anything was now fighting every day.

The breakup was intense. You believed that you’d never get over him, and nearly three years later, that appeared to be true. Jungkook, however, moved on pretty quickly with one of his associates. The pair ended up moving to another city together, and it left you feeling hopeless. It felt as if your world had crumbled and that you’d never recover. Luckily, after the initial shock wore off, the fact that you wouldn’t have to worry about running into him helped you to find your footing once again. Slowly, you learned to let him go. No matter how much it hurt.

“Y/N?” A woman’s voice called out, causing you to look up from your phone. She smiled brightly as she motioned for you to come with her.

The woman led you to a room where she began performing the basic tests to prepare you for the doctor. She asked you all of the usual questions that made you want to roll your eyes. Giving you a bit of a side-eye when you told her that you weren’t sexually active, or that you barely drank, or that you didn’t use tobacco. The whole nine yards.

She stood up as she concluded the tests, before opening the door and hanging a clipboard on it.

“Dr.Jeon will be with you shortly.” She said in a cheery tone before stepping out, causing you to freeze.

Dr.Jeon? You thought. There’s absolutely no way. There’s got to be thousands of Dr.Jeons right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The anxiety that you were already feeling was now elevated. You thought about just leaving. Running out of the door and never looking back. You could always find a new doctors office to go to. Soon enough, your thoughts seized as the sound of the door opening caused you to look up nervously.

“Hi, Y/N.” The man’s voice greeted you.

In that moment, you wanted to break down and cry. He looked exactly the same as he did when he left you. His eyes were still bright. He still wore that beautiful smile that made you melt. He was still your Jungkook.

“H-hi.” You stuttered.

“It’s good to see you.” He smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in his tone that didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Yeah, you too.” You sighed as you looked down at your hands, fidgeting with your fingers.

Much to your surprise, he didn’t immediately take a seat in front of the computer. Instead, he pulled up his chair so that he was sitting directly in front of you as you sat on the examination table.

“How’ve you been?” He asked, leaning down in an attempt to look you in the eyes.

In a matter of moments, everything began coming back. All the sadness and anger flooded within you and your eyes began burning with tears. You quickly wiped them away though. You didn’t want him to see you break. The desire to run was at an all time high, but you couldn’t. You felt cornered and although he wasn’t literally holding you hostage, you felt as if you were trapped.

“I’m fine, Jungkook.” You snapped as you looked up at him. “What are you even doing here?”

“I came back.” He sighed. “I made a big mistake. I should’ve never even left.”

“Well, you did. And you ran off with your associate without a second thought.”

“It wasn’t like that, Y/N.” He whispered.

“Then what was it, Jungkook? Do you have any idea how badly you hurt me?” Your voice cracked.

“I know, Y/N, and I am so sorry for everything. If I could take it all back, I would. Please, believe me.” He said as his own eyes appeared to be filling with tears.

“Why did you run away?” You questioned, voice barely above a whisper.

“Because I thought that I’d get over you sooner. I thought that if I forced myself to be with someone else, that I wouldn’t want to be with you anymore. I was wrong, Y/N. It just made me feel worse.” He admitted, tears now falling from his eyes.

You wanted to wipe his tears away and hold him. You wanted to tell him that everything was fine and that you forgave him, but it wasn’t fine and you couldn’t bring yourself to forgive him. No matter how much you tried not to be, you were still so angry with him.

“It might’ve made you feel worse, Jungkook, but think about how shitty and disposable you made me feel.” You told him.

“I know, baby.” He whispered as he gently embraced your hands within his own. Quickly correcting himself. “I mean, Y/N. I know and I’ll never forgive myself for that. If I could go back in time and fix everything, I would. I would give up everything if it meant that I could have you again.” He finished, squeezing your hands gently.

As you looked into his eyes, all of the anger and resentment you felt towards him began to fade. Sincerity was written all over his face and you knew how much this breakup had affected him too. You weren’t sure if you could even really blame him for how he attempted to move on. You needed isolation, whereas he needed company.

“I would never ask you to give up everything, Jungkook.” You sighed as your thumb rubbed circles on the back of his hand.

“I know you wouldn’t, but if that’s what it takes then so be it. Just give me a chance to make it right, Y/N. Let me prove to you that I can do better. I still love you. I never stopped.” He pleaded.

“I still love you too, Jungkook.” You began.

You felt as if you had a demon on one shoulder and an angel on the other. The demon telling you to cuss him out and leave him sitting in this room. The angel telling you to follow your heart and to give him another chance to make things right. Ultimately, the angel was winning.

“We can try again, but not where we left off. I want us to start from the beginning.” You told him. You’d changed so much since the breakup and you could only imagine that he had as well.

“I can work with that.” He smiled brightly, causing you to giggle at how happy he looked.

“Good. Now, let’s not forget that I came here for a checkup.” You laughed, suddenly remembering what brought you here in the first place.

“Right!” He quickly stood up and gathered himself.

He completed the rest of the examination. Refusing to let a nurse take over when you needed your blood drawn. He was going to take care of you, and no one else was going to get in the middle of that.

As the appointment came to an end, he helped you stand up from the table. Your arms resting on his shoulders as his hands kept a protective hold on your waist. You weren’t sure if it was appropriate, but you didn’t care. As his deep brown eyes stared down at you, the feeling became overwhelming. So, you gave into it. Slowly leaning up and connecting your lips with his own.

The kiss was brief, but it held all of the longing and regret that the two of you had felt over the last three years.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After checking out, Jungkook insisted on walking to your car. The two of you agreed to go on your “first” date tonight. Giving you a chance to really get to know each other once again.

“So, I’ll see you later.” He smiled. His hands rested in the pockets of his white jacket as he shifted his weight from the front to the back of his heels. A nervous tick you’d caught onto throughout the years.

“See you later, Jungkook.” You said, quickly giving him another kiss before getting into your car.

He watched as you pulled away, waving at you until your car was no longer in sight. Things would never be exactly the same as they once had been between you two, but that didn’t matter anymore. What mattered is that you were trying again. Leaving the past in the past and focusing on the future as you built a new connection. One that was stronger and more secure. One that couldn’t be broken.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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triviallytrue · 9 months ago

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Watching something as iconic as NGE is kinda funny because every now and then something happens and you're like "oh! that guy! from tumblr!"

General thoughts:

Poor Shinji. Dude keeps getting put in situations.

The Ender's Game comparison keeps coming up for me - child soldiers utterly essential to the cause. The big difference is that they are just completely flubbing their psychological management in NGE - in Ender's Game they had eyes on the kids 24/7 and maintained in-depth psychological profiles on all of them, whereas in NGE they have loads of money and manpower focused on maintaining the EVAs but their equally-essential pilots are just... going to school. Shinji got punched and they didn't know!

And what is Misato's deal, anyway? She's in her 20s and has a crazy amount of authority (she just requisitioned all of Japan's power) and they're just kinda... letting her manage Shinji? It's not her job, but she's just doing it? She's his commanding officer but also his mom/sister, which is a really bad combo. Also I don't think I'm imagining the grooming undertones, those seem intentional.

The real motivator for someone like Shinji is (of course) his social connections - the two schoolkids and Rei, and then maybe to some degree Misato, and then even more distantly his father. Kids don't put themselves through severe distress just for the abstract concept of "saving the world," especially a world that has thus far been very unkind to them. To bring back the Ender's Game comparison, this feels like a very deliberate point that Graff and friends were aware of (the way they used Valentine as a strategic resource) but in NGE it seems to be mostly happenstance that Shinji made some human connections before completely shutting down.

Rei thus far is an interesting foil to Shinji. Normally I get kind of put off by scenes like the one where he walks in on her, but it gives you a lot of important information about both of them. Shinji, underneath all the abandonment issues and repression, is still a pretty normal kid - awkward, horny in that embarrassing adolescent way, deeply self-conscious. Rei is alien (or perhaps just very autistic). She just doesn't clock 90% of the tension at all. She pilots the EVA without complaint (though perhaps with equal psychological distress, just heavily repressed). She also gets along very well with his shitass dad, which is revealing in its own way.

I'm told there is another child, a red haired one, named Asuka(?), the thus-far only implied Second Child. Wonder why she isn't here yet?

I heard that it was some kind of twist that the EVAs were alive in some sense, but doesn't that naturally follow from the first couple episodes? Unit 01 moves to save Rei without a pilot and then goes berserk to kill the angel. Maybe there's more to the twist that I don't know yet.

What's up with the angels? Why are they here, what do they want, what are they exactly? Who cares. They are a plot device in purest form - they enable the rest of the show, but the show is not meaningfully "about" them. They didn't half-ass it though - the designs are absolutely phenomenal.

Oh, and there's some second project NERV is working on, a human transformation thing that got mentioned once and never again. That will probably be important eventually.

#i'm doing femmenietzsche's suggestion of watching 6 episode chunks as arcs #finished the first last night #nge #arc 1

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missvainillapudin · 4 months ago

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Fuck 'em all, Fuck 'em all but us:

prompt: first of all i want to say that this writing is heavily inspired by Simon and Patty's relationship from the movie "dinner in america" which i love so much! and i wanted to write something about it, somehow i find similarities between Simon and Vance so it's perfect for me to use it in this writing!(that's all, sorry if it was too long, i'm new at this and i'm trying to do my best! so please don't be mean (⁠个⁠_⁠个⁠) )

Fem!reader x Vance Hopper

•He mess up and he knew it, he had lost his pinball record because of that old game and that led him to make a mess at Grab'N Go, now the pinball machine was completely destroyed (not to mention other parts of the place💀) and the owner had called the police, he ran out of the place without first showing the angry owner his finger and leaving there in a hurry, you on the other hand were sitting on the floor in the back of the hospital where your mother worked and where you helped her organize the nursing equipment, eating your lunch, you were watching with displeasure some pigeons pecking at something dead in the trash until the sound of heavy footsteps going up the metal stairs of the place and generating a thunderous noise distracted you, the pigeons fluttered at the noise and you frowned when you saw a boy about your age, blond with a jean jacket without sleeves, he looked at you and put a finger to his lips as a sign You kept quiet, that boy seemed familiar to you, but from where? At that moment a police car passed by the place and stopped in front of you "Hey girl, have you seen anyone suspicious running around here?" the officer asked, you looked at that blond boy and then at the officer, after a few seconds that seemed like an eternity for Vance you slowly shook your head still with a piece of your ham and cheese sandwich on your lips, the officer hissed and left without first telling you that in case you saw suspicious activity in the area you should not hesitate to call "We have to put an end to this crime, those brats..." you heard him mutter annoyed before leaving in the car, your gaze went to that boy who after the officer left went down the stairs, walked towards you and with his hands in the pockets of his jeans he looked you up and down rudely, however, you were the first to speak "I knew I knew you from somewhere, you're Vance Hopper, aren't you?" You said in surprise, he rolled his eyes letting out a "Fuck you" from his lips, you looked at him with a frown and took a few steps in front of him "Hey! That's no way to talk to someone who's done you a favor!" you attacked with a frown, to be honest you needed help with something, and who didn't know Vance Hopper at school? the guy was a real beast when it came to fights, although according to what they said he only started them if he was provoked, and you, luckily or not, had never seen him fight in person, but there was this big group of assholes at school that would pick on you, they didn't hit you but they would steal your stuff and scatter it all over the school, they would glue the lock on your locker with glue and dirty your desk with chalkboard dust, you had had enough of that shit and maybe if you asked Vance to teach them a lesson (nothing too serious just intimidate them a little and tell them not to mess with you again) it would be more than enough, so when the next words came out of his mouth you couldn't help but erase your smile and change it for a disappointed expression, "I don't owe you shit, rot" he said crudely as he passed by you and bumped your shoulder, you turned to look at him with a mix of surprise and disappointment in your eyes, however you weren't going to let this end like this, or of course not, you gathered your courage and threatened him loudly and from behind "So can I go to the police and tell them I've seen you around here?" your words echoed in his ears and he clenched his fists tightly, at this moment the last thing he needed was more trouble and right now you were like a huge thorn in his ass, he turned to look at you with annoyance and for a moment you wanted to back away and get ready to run but his words made your eyes light up with hope "What the fuck do you want?" He said irritatedly, putting one hand on his waist and the other on the bridge of his nose, squeezing it with his fingers as if the simple idea of continuing to hear your stupid little voice hurt him.

🍉: God! This got longer than I expected and due to space issues I'm going to publish a 2nd and maybe 3rd part of this writing, thanks for reading! (⁠.⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.✌️

#the black phone #writers on tumblr #writblr #vance hopper x reader #vance hopper #bruce yamada #finney blake #gwen blake #robin arellano #sweet girl

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dis0rderly-cl0wn-nerd · 13 days ago

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Blur The Lines

Ledger!Joker x Fem!Reader

Chapter 1 - Break-In

Work Summary: Y/n is a struggling artist living in Gotham and stuck in an office job that she absolutely hates. Her dull life gets a spark of excitement when the Joker breaks into her apartment. Over time his stay becomes more voluntary and Y/n develops a connection with the clown. In exchange for a place of safety, Joker agrees to give her some tips that will help boost her art career. But eventually, Y/n realizes she may be getting into more than she signed up for.

Chapter Summary: It's a typical boring day at the office for Y/n. She returns home once again to the frustrations of her failing dreams. As she tries to distract herself and make something of yet another unfinished drawing, a certain someone decides to break into her apartment.

Author's Note: So I'm starting a new fic! I'm really excited for this one. I've been thinking of doing a reader insert fic for several months now. My goal here is to write a more in-character or darker Joker than I usually do and a more developed MC instead of just another Mary Sue. She is heavily inspired by me as I'm kinda writing with myself in mind but anyone can read it and place themselves in the story. Idk if there will be any smut or implied smut in here. I'm still not entirely comfortable with writing that yet. So if there is any here's your warning. I'm done yapping now, enjoy the first chapter!

Taglist: @alittlesmartcookie @furisodespirit @lightsabergirl @gothic-aesthetic-gal

If you would like to be added to the taglist please let me know! <3

Next Chapter >

A cool autumn breeze ruffled your hair as you left the office building with a defeated sigh. You began the monotonous trek back home, holding a thick stack of paperwork and other work related crap. Your boss just threw it on you at the last second. The joke was him, you weren’t actually gonna do it.

Nope. He needed to realize you had a life outside of work. A simple one, but still a life. You only carried the stack out with you for appearances. Honestly you could care less if you were fired. It was only a matter of time before you quit anyway. This was not the life you wanted.

Every day it was the same thing. Wake up early, go to work in an office all day, waste hours of your time, go back home to a shitty apartment, yearn for a better life, go to bed, and repeat the next day. Much to your relief you were off on the weekends. You treasured those days and used them to destress and help yourself feel alive again. It was hard to believe how draining something as simple as an office job could be.

You often found yourself reminiscing on the old days when you were a little girl growing up in your small town. You lived in a modest house on a lively farm. Your father raised cows and chickens and grew numerous crops. Your mother was a local school teacher. They were loving parents for the most part. They had their evident flaws but what parents didn’t?

You did well in school and you rarely got into trouble. They were difficult to make, but you had a few friends. You adopted many stray cats and took care of them. Your dad let you keep so many because they were good for keeping mice out of the barn.

Life was plain and honestly quite boring. As a young girl you had big dreams. You longed to move away and start a new life somewhere else. Home would always be home but it would never satisfy you.

Your escape from it all was art. You had been drawing since you were old enough to pick up a crayon. As you grew older, art became more than just a hobby. When you picked up a pencil or a paintbrush, you felt free. Putting your deepest thoughts and opinions to page was so liberating, especially when a lot of times you couldn’t outwardly express those things.

Your high school art teacher said you could go places, and you believed him. An art career was something you always wanted. With his encouragement and a few others, you decided to go for it. So after graduating, you spent a few years figuring things out. As a backup plan you went to a community college for a 2 year degree and successfully obtained it. Then with enough money saved up, you moved to Gotham City when you were 21 in hopes of becoming a full time artist.

Your parents thought you were stupid. Your friends laughed at you. They all told you over and over it wouldn’t work out. Maybe they were right. You found out pretty quickly that Gotham’s art scene was super competitive. It was nearly impossible for a nobody from the middle of nowhere like you to get noticed. But you wouldn’t give up. Not yet.

Obviously you needed money to survive and fund your projects. Supplies weren’t always cheap. Hell, it cost money for you to even enter certain art galleries and contests. You also knew that your art career of course wouldn’t take off right away, so you were forced to look for work.

That’s when you stumbled across an office job in the Downtown area. It paid just enough for you to afford rent and groceries, along with a little extra to set aside for art related things. You mostly answered calls, filled out paperwork, and scheduled things for your boss. You were a receptionist or secretary of some sort. You hoped that you wouldn’t be doing this for very long and your art would gain some traction by now, but no such luck.

You came to Gotham 2 years ago and still nothing changed. You were still stuck in your cramped apartment and dead end job. It was hopeless, but something in you was driving you to keep trying, to prove everyone back home wrong.

Rounding the last corner, your apartment building came into view. You sighed as you pushed the double doors open and entered the lobby. You passed the front desk where your landlord was reading the paper and waved to him wearily. “Hey, Jimmy.”

“Hey, Y/n. Long day?”

“Yep.”

You dug your keys out of your pocket and unlocked your mail slot after scanning the rows. Nothing but junk mail. You threw it away in a nearby trash can and started towards the stairs with a tired sigh. It wasn’t too long of a walk, but trudging up four flights of stairs everyday was not something you looked forward to.

Soon you reached the fourth floor and walked down the hall until you reached apartment 405, your humble abode. You unlocked the door and entered with an exhale of relief, discarding the heavy stack of paperwork on the kitchen table. You wouldn’t think anything of it for the rest of the night and it would sit there until the next morning when you had to go back to work.

Flipping on the lights, you moved into your bedroom and changed out of your work clothes into something more comfortable. You picked out your usual sweatshirt and shorts combo and threw it on. Once dressed, you grabbed your sketchbook off of your dresser and returned to the living room. You set the sketchbook down on the couch before going to the kitchen and heating up some water to make Cup Noodles with. It wasn’t the healthiest meal, but it was cheap and good enough for you. If you ever got rich off of your art, you could start eating healthier then.

Cup Noodles in hand, you grabbed your sketching pencils from your art desk and plopped down on the couch to finish up your current ‘work in progress’. You slurped up the noodles as you examined what was already on the page and tried to figure out what to do with it. Something about it just wasn’t looking right.

You grabbed the remote and switched on the TV for background noise. The evening news was on. As you set to work on the drawing, you heard a little bit of what the reporters were saying. The cops were after someone on the run but you didn’t catch who or where. It didn’t surprise you. This was Gotham after all.

You erased what you originally had on the page with a frown. The proportions just looked so off. Maybe your second attempt would be better. You tried to remind yourself that everything in your sketchbook was just practice. Some of it might get put to canvas or inspire a future project and some of it might not. Still, every time something didn’t come together right away you felt like a failure. You’d start to think that maybe you really weren’t good enough and that was why this art career wasn’t working out.

At this point you screwed up the second attempt and moved on to your third. You were growing increasingly annoyed at both the drawing and yourself. Nothing you did was fixing it. With an exasperated sigh, you started erasing yet again.

You paused when you heard a faint tapping on your window. You looked up at the sound, but seeing nothing there, you paid it no mind and continued to erase furiously at the drawing. It ripped at how forceful you were and you nearly screamed in rage. You took a deep breath and crumpled up the paper. The original drawing just wasn’t working. It was best to start over on a new sheet of paper. Even if this was your fourth attempt.

Some more time passed as you got lost in the drawing process and then you heard the noise again. Louder this time. Something hit the window hard and then the glass started to crack. It dawned on you that someone was trying to break in.

You scoffed. Not on your watch.

You turned the TV off, stood up, and crept cautiously towards the window, baseball bat in hand. With the crime rate as high as it was in Gotham, you kept an arsenal of everyday things to defend yourself with and had a plan in mind just in case a situation like this should happen.

Intending to simply bash the intruder over the head and scare them away, you pried open the window just as a familiar painted face appeared right in front of you. You screamed and fell backwards.

There was no way. There was no fucking way.

The figure crawled through the opening and tumbled right into your apartment. Paralyzed with fear, you watched him sit upright in horror. This was no ordinary thug. This was the Joker. The Joker was in your apartment.

“Sorry, uh, for the scare, darlin'. I’m kinda in a bit of a pinch here.” He said as he stood up and approached you.

You noticed he had a small limp and his clothes were soaked with blood. His hair was sweaty and wild. Very faintly you could hear his erratic breathing.

“Wh-What do you want?” You asked, backing away from him.

He seemed to find your reaction amusing. “Just need a place to stay for a bit until I can get the pigs off my back. I’m not gonna hurt ya.”

You were stunned speechless. You could only muster a soft, “You’re injured.”

Joker shrugged. “Yeah. Happens every time. I couldn’t get very far with this leg.”

“So was this apartment building the closest thing to you or…?” You inquired, surprised at your own voice.

“Yep. Nice place ya got here.”

“I-I…I’m not sure how I feel about this.”

“I wasn’t asking you.”

You didn’t like his tone. You took a deep breath and lowered the bat, propping it against the wall.

“So you just want a place to hide? That’s it?”

“Yep. It’s too risky for me to travel across the city right now. I can’t get to my hideout until the heat dies down.”

“How long are we talking?”

“I don’t really know. At most two weeks.”

“Two weeks?! You can’t just-!” You exclaimed.

Joker threw his hands up. “I said at most.”

“No. You can kindly get the hell out. I won’t call the cops if you just go.”

Joker smirked and advanced towards you slowly, lifting his coat to reveal a hidden pistol. “Orrrr…you can kindly shut up and let me stay here because I’m the man with a gun.”

You froze at the sight of the gun and contemplated what to do, your mind running a mile a minute. Your shoulders slumped as you realized the position you were in. It was best to just go along with what he said.

You sighed, “I don’t really have a choice here, do I?”

When you looked back up, Joker wasn’t there. He lost interest in talking to you and wandered into the kitchen. You stared at the clown in disbelief. The fact that he was being so nonchalant and inviting himself into a stranger’s home baffled you. Man, the nerve of this guy.

You scampered after him and against your better judgement grabbed his arm to confront him. He whipped around to face you, his dark eyes boring into yours.

You gulped. “Shouldn’t we, uh, treat your wounds first?”

Joker lightened his expression. “Mhm. That would be helpful.”

You led him into your bathroom and gestured for him to sit on the toilet. He sat down without a word and stared up at you. You nervously grabbed a first aid kit from your cabinet.

“I don’t have much but I’ll make do with what I can. Where are you hurt?”

Joker rolled up his pants leg and pointed to a deep gash across his calf. It was swollen red and oozing blood. You had to turn your head for a second. When your stomach stopped lurching, you knelt down in front of him while still maintaining a safe distance.

“Anywhere else?”

Joker grinned and pointed towards his left arm. “Just a little graze on my shoulder. They missed me. We should probably focus on the bigger one right now.”

You nodded. “Okay, uh… I guess I should clean it first?”

Joker made no reply and just kept staring at you. You frowned.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, man. How do you usually do this?”

“You clean it first. That’s kinda obvious, darlin’.” Joker muttered.

“Oh I’m sorry. I don’t get into police shootouts on a regular basis.” You spat.

Joker snickered. “Feisty, aren’t ya?”

You rolled your eyes and got to work. You took an alcohol wipe and disinfected the wound, trying to be gentle because you knew it would probably sting. To your surprise Joker didn’t even flinch. Sensing he wasn’t going to mind, you continued on at a quicker pace and wiped away the blood, patting it dry with a nearby towel.

Next you grabbed some gauze from the kit and wrapped it around his calf to bandage the gash. You could practically feel Joker staring down at you as you worked. This was crazy. You were treating the Joker’s wounds and letting him stay in your apartment. He did force you, but still, he was an extremely dangerous man to have in your home. Was he going to kill you? Heh, you hated to say it but maybe that was a good thing. He’d put you out of your misery.

You shook off that thought. No, y/n, that isn’t a good thing. Once you’re dead it’s over. If you stay alive, at least you still have a chance. You didn’t come this far to give up. He’s not going to kill you. You’re going to make sure of it.

Joker’s gruff voice startled you out of your daze. “What’s your name?”

“Y/n.”

“Well y/n, you might not like these circumstances but it’s really helping me out. So, uh, thanks I guess.”

“I’m literally only doing this because you threatened me.” You huffed.

Joker chuckled. “Fair enough.”

“Stay still. I can’t bandage it right if you keep moving.”

You didn’t catch the fiery glimmer of anger flash across Joker’s eyes at being bossed around. Regardless he listened to you and kept his legs still as you cut off the remaining gauze and tied the bandage in place.

“There. Now let’s take care of your shoulder. Can you uh…?” You gestured to his suit.

Joker yanked off his purple coat with a sly smirk. “Tsk. You just met me, y/n. Want my clothes off already?”

You turned beet red. “No! Ugh, that’s not what I meant. Just take off your shirt enough that I can bandage up your shoulder.”

Joker wheezed. “Alright, alright. I’m kidding.”

You didn’t find him one bit funny. Some clown he was.

Joker finally got his shirt pulled down so you could treat the graze on his shoulder. You repeated the same process as you did for his calf and bandaged it accordingly. Joker fixed his shirt back and left his coat off, draping it over his shoulder.

You put the medical kit back where it belonged and started out the door towards the living room again. Joker stood up from the toilet and followed you, still limping a bit. He sat down on the couch and you sat down at your art desk across the room, unsure of what else to do but sit down.

Your heart skipped a beat when you realized you left your sketchbook on the couch and it was still open. You hated when someone looked through your sketchbook without asking. It was so embarrassing. Flashbacks to high school replayed in your head. You silently prayed Joker wouldn’t notice, but it was too late. He picked it up and flipped through the pages curiously. Did he not have any understanding of privacy?!

“What’s this?” He asked, examining a page.

“It’s my sketchbook. I’m an artist. Well, sort of…” You answered quietly.

Joker said nothing and continued flipping through the pages.

“Can you not? Please?” You tried not to sound desperate.

Joker stopped and looked up at you as if he sensed your distress. “Why? It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

You walked across the room and shut the book, taking it out of his hands. “I just don’t like people looking through my sketchbook. I don’t know. It’s just personal.”

“Alright then. I, uh, assume art is just a hobby. What do you do for work?”

“I have an office job. I don’t really know what my title is. Receptionist? Secretary? Assistant? Something like that.”

“Oh. Sounds boring.”

“It is. I hate it. I’d rather be more of a professional artist but nobody takes me seriously.”

“Why?”

“Beats me. I guess those rich pricks would rather see a few slathers of paint on a canvas instead of actual art. But hey, I won’t judge the abstract. Some of it is actually meaningful.”

Joker laughed. “Yeah. One time I tried to rob a featured gallery in an art museum and ended up leaving with nothing because everything was just so tasteless. It was said to be worth thousands of dollars but I didn’t waste my time on it. Most of today’s modern ‘art’ is just crap.”

“I mean, it’s not all bad. It’s just so hard to get noticed. The reason that kind of art is so valued is because it’s made by influential rich people who get bored one day and decide to make a painting.”

“Well put.”

You blinked for a second and processed the story he just told you. He described robbing a museum as if it was the most normal thing in the world, like grocery shopping. It brought you back to reality and reminded you who you were in the room with. You held back a shiver.

“Uh, why exactly were you running from the cops?” You asked.

“Well, I just broke out of Arkham last week so I guess they were on high alert. My dumb ass decided to stage another heist because I needed some funds instead of waiting a little longer. Somebody tipped them off that we were going to be there and they showed up right as we tried to leave. Then the chase ensued and that’s when I ended up here.”

You shook your head. This was actually happening. A psycho killer clown was sitting in your living room and telling you about his failed bank heist. Why did it have to be you and not the annoying neighbor who lived right beside you? “I still don’t understand something. Out of the rows of windows, why did you pick mine?”

“It looked like there were no lights on. I thought no one was home.”

“Okay, but why the 4th floor?”

“I dunno. I needed to get up high to see what was going on around me and then I decided the best thing to do right then was to hide in one of the apartments so I just picked a random one.”

You rubbed your temples and took a deep breath. You really had the worst luck ever.

“As much as I’d love to sit and chat, I’ve had a really long day and I need to catch some sleep. So I’ll be in my room.” You announced and started towards your bedroom door.

“Fine by me. You do what you gotta do.”

“I really can’t offer you anywhere to sleep besides the couch.”

“That’s alright. I can sleep pretty much anywhere.”

“Oh. Well, I’m going to bed now. So goodnight, um, what should I call you?”

“J is fine.”

“Goodnight, J.”

“Night, Y/n.”

You entered your room and shut the door, leaning against it once inside. You let out a long shaky breath. This night was just so unbelievable. The Joker was in your living room! And you were still alive! And he saw your sketchbook! You cringed, wanting to simply pass away at that thought. In the scheme of things you guessed it didn’t matter that much but it was still embarrassing.

You went to the bathroom inside your room where you treated Joker’s injuries earlier and brushed your teeth. You put up your hair and turned the light off before walking over to your bed and collapsing onto it.

You were exhausted but for the first hour you found it so difficult to fall asleep. You were completely paranoid. And who wouldn’t be? All you could think about was the madman on the other side of your door who could kill you with his bare hands.

Would he do it while you slept? And how would he do it? You shuddered at the possibilities.

All the worrying and speculation only tired you out further. You stayed awake as long as could until your body finally crashed. You dozed off, all thoughts of Joker fleeting as you entered the comforting embrace of sleep. You could deal with him in the morning. Hopefully.

#ledger joker #ledger joker x reader #ledger joker x fem!reader #heath ledger joker x reader #heath ledger #the dark knight #reader insert #cross posted on ao3 #my writing

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