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jksprincess10 · 1 year

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Hey! I love your writings! Especially your neighbour story’s! I saw you take requests… So I have an idea. What about no-outbreak neighbour x reader. Where the reader has a dad who doesn’t care about his daughter, never was there physically. So the reader basically spend her childhood mostly at Joel’s house. He taking care of her, being supportive and all. So, as she grew older and goes to the college the atmosphere maybe changes. Like lingering touches or glances. But he always holds himself back. She works maybe as a waitress besides college to safe some money. My thought was that on his 36 birthday she throws him a big surprise party, and bought with her saved money his biggest wish. Like a new car or something. Something he always dreamed of. To thank him for basically raising her? On the party some dude flirts heavily with the reader. And Joel finally has enough of hiding, with following smut and cuteness maybe? That would be amazing. I hope it’s understandable and not to much. Take care of yourself and have a great day/night! 😊

Hii ! Thank you for your request. I wrote something inspired by it but had to change some details for realism. I also made y/n more like Sarah's best friend so it didn't feel like grooming. Hope you still like it.

Daddy issues

CW: Age difference, power imbalance, daddy issues, alcohol, oral and fingering (f receiving), jealous ! Joel, BFD ! Joel, no outbreak AU.

When you moved to Texas for your dad’s work at 12 years old, you met the Miller family which included Joel Miller, a single dad in his 30s, and his daughter, Sarah. You immediately became friends with her, and she helped you survive your new school.

Your dad was never really there, especially since your mom had abandoned your family for another man. It became even worse when you moved to Texas. He was away for days, but you were used to it. You could function like a little adult, cooking, doing laundry and cleaning. You didn’t really have a childhood.

Mr. Miller saw how often you were left alone. He didn’t say anything, didn’t ask questions, but did offer you to stay over a lot. You offered to help him cook in exchange, as he was always working late hours. He was a sweet man, who took care of his daughter and of you. Your relationship with Joel was also distant, he didn’t really know how to socialize with teenage girls like his daughter, but he was caring.

Over the years, your relationship with your dad stayed tense, and distant. But college gave you some freedom, you were legally an adult, you had a job as a waitress at a 24/7 diner. You worked insane hours to move out eventually, and also, to repay your debt to Mr. Miller. Your relationship with him had evolved over the years. With you in your 20s, and him at his 45th birthday coming up, you had developed a… crush on your best friend’s dad.

It was stupid, yes, and your daddy issues probably had something to do with it. But when he started seeing you as an adult and you started seeing him as a man, you felt some stares, lingering touches sometimes as you helped him cook diner for Sarah. You would flirt discreetly sometimes, hoping he’d notice.

Honestly, it was probably inappropriate, and you tried to push your crush away, not wanting to get him in trouble like he had groomed you. When, in contrary, he saved you and was always respectful. Sarah, of course, never knew. You had a few boyfriends and him, a few girlfriends. He was protective of you, so you never let him meet your partners.

Joel’s 45th birthday would be special. You and Sarah organized a big surprise party at your house (because your dad was gone, of course). You had spent months putting money aside to buy him a new acoustic guitar (his old one got broken by an ex… long story), and you were excited to finally give him his gift.

After your morning shift, you met Sarah at your house and finished decorating. The cake was safely stored in the fridge stocked with a lot of alcohol. You only had to wait for people to get here and for Joel to come back from work.

“I’m nervous.” said Sarah as she was hanging banners on the stairs.

“Because Joel hates surprises?” You guessed while you took care of the other side of the banner.

“Yeah… but he never does anything for himself.”

“I know. He’ll be happy.” You reassured her.

Family, friends and colleagues were waiting anxiously in the darkness of your home while you and Sarah welcomed Joel at his own place. You covered his eyes with a piece of fabric and you both guided him outside of the house. Your hand was latching onto the strong muscle of his bicep, which sent shivers through his body.

“I swear to God, if you two organized something for my birthday…”

“Shush, you’ll love it, dad.” Said Sarah with a smile.

SURPRISE !

He rolled his eyes once his mask was off, but his smile betrayed the annoyance he was trying to portray.

You ate the cake in a corner of the kitchen. There were people everywhere in the house, it was getting a bit overwhelming for you. Joel checked in on you after he was done with all the attention he was getting.

“So who’s idea was it?” He asked.

You lifted your chin to look at him with a smile, your fork playing with the white icing.

“Like I’m gonna tell you.” You responded, before stuffing the icing in your mouth.

Joel coughed awkwardly and tapped his neck nervously. He tried to ignore the way your pretty eyes looked at him suggestively while you were eating the white cream. Your eyebrow shot up as you were looking innocently at him, but you didn’t make any comment. You simply pointed your fork towards him.

“You haven’t even tasted the cake. Eat, so I can give you your gift.”

“You’re bossier than Sarah.”

“Learned from the best.”

Still, he leaned in, his mouth wrapping around the fork as he tasted the cake. You were totally staring.

“Fiinne, the cake’s good. I’ll get myself a piece. But I don’t want no gift, darlin’.”

The pet name made your chest flutter. It wasn’t the first time he called you darling, of course, but there was something more intimate in the air tonight. Like you would finally get more of him.

Joel left you, your cheeks red and your fork stuck mid-air.

“C’mon, open up.” You encouraged him.

Everyone was looking at him, and he hated it. But he wanted to make you smile, so he tore apart the wrapping paper that hid the big box.

“This big box and you probably gave me socks.”

“You’ll see.”

His mouth fell as he discovered the expensive acoustic guitar you had bought. For once, Joel was speechless.

“Darlin’, you shouldn’t have… You’re putting money aside for movin’ out…”

“I took more shifts. Turns out I can do both… And I really wanted to thank you properly. For always having me here when you know…. Dad…”

The word “dad” hurt. You didn’t like saying it. In your mind, you had no father figure. Joel imprisoned your body in the cage of his big arms, hugging you tight. You swore you had seen some tears in his eyes.

“I’ll always be here, darlin’.”

“I know.” You smiled and laid your head against his chest, as he kissed the top of your head.

With Sarah’s gift, a new watch, Joel was a spoiled man. The party really started after the gift exchange, everyone drank more, the older people left, and Joel tested his new guitar. Joel had lost his eternal flannel shirt somewhere and his greying curls had a mind of their own. You liked him like this, free.

You danced innocently to the beat of the 80s music that Joel liked and a few younger people joined you – cousins, colleagues’ kids you didn’t know. A tall guy, probably in his mid 20s, dark brown hair swiped to the side and green eyes, approached you. He was good-looking and seemed nice enough. You put your arms around his neck to bring him closer, your bodies following the same rhythm.

He asked for your name, said you were pretty. His name was Bryan. He was the son of one of Joel’s colleagues.

“What’re you doing after this?” He asked. You shrugged.

“No plans yet.”

Before he could ask for anything, you felt strong arms pulling you away.

“Darlin’ we need to get John’s coat upstairs, can ya help me find it?” Joel familiar accent resonated over the loud music.

“S-Sure!”

You shrugged to the stranger, and your eyes were apologizing for you.

Once in the room alone with Joel, you turned around with John’s coat in your hands.

“Don’t tell me you couldn’t find it; it was literally at the top.” You sighed.

The older man had closed the door and he seemed like he was trying to say something, but he was held back, his mouth not making any sound.

“I didn’t like seein’ ya with Bryan. Guy’s a womanizer.” He finally said.

You frowned and crossed your arms.

“Joel, I can figure that out by myself. I’m an adult. Tell me what’s really going on.”

He got closer, his height towering over you. You looked up at him, trying to see what was going on behind those pretty chocolate eyes. His hand held the side of your face, and you felt your heart jump out of your chest.

“Can we… talk about what’s goin’ out with us?”

“Joel, you’re drunk.”

“M’not, darlin’. I’m really sober. I noticed the way you were starin’ earlier and… every day, really. Since you became a woman.”

You turned your head away.

“Fuck, I know it’s wrong.” You whispered, like the words scared you. “But I like you a lot.”

It was a confirmation for him, enough for him to take the scary jump and kiss you. You yelped, then grabbed his neck to bring his body closer to yours, tasting the hints of sweetness of the cake and the bitterness of the beer on his tongue.

“I want more, just this once. Then we don’t have to talk about it again…”

“Okay.” You simply said, breathless.

The pile of coats fell to the floor as your tangled bodies met the softness of your mattress. Joel was towering over you, his broad frame becoming your whole view. Your hands explored his biceps, as he was looking at you intensely. He tried to determine his next move.

“Can I take this off?” He asked as he pulled on the hem of your dress.

You nodded enthusiastically and helped him pull the clothing over your head. You were wearing a dusty pink laced matching set under it. It was like you intended to take someone home after this. You saw hints of jealousy in Joel’s dark eyes. You caressed his cheek and he softened under your touch.

“You intended to go home with someone tonight, darlin’? Naughty girl.”

You blushed profusely. “Let’s not talk about it…”

To focus his attention elsewhere, you helped him take off his t-shirt. You ran your fingers over his skin, exploring parts of him you had never seen before. You mostly did it to hide the shaking of your hands.

“M’gonna take good care of you, don’t worry.” He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.

His large hand trailed down your body and caressed your wetness through your laced panties, ruining the thin fabric. You whimpered softly and grabbed onto him.

“So fuckin’ wet.”

He discarded your underwear and took in the view of your perfect cunt. His digits explored your wet folds, feeling his way to your pleasure. You squirmed a bit.

“We have to be fast, Joel, they’ll see we’re missing…”

The older man sighed. He wanted to take his time with you, but he couldn’t be greedy. He agreed and opted on plunging his head between your thighs to prepare you faster. He licked through your folds, rapidly finding your sensitive bundle of nerves. You fisted the blankets as you moaned, still trying to keep it quiet so the whole party downstairs didn’t hear you.

“I know, I know… you have to be quiet for me, baby girl.”

He held his palm over your mouth, and you nodded obediently. He kept licking at your bud enthusiastically, finding a rhythm that you enjoyed. Your thighs almost closed together, but Joel kept them apart with his free hand.

Then, he sneaked in one finger, stretching you slowly. Everything about him was big, but you tried to relax.

“Y’okay?”

You nodded.

He added another finger, as he sucked on your clit to make you think about something else than the pain. You let out a small “Fuck” under the cover of his palm. While he took care of you, you played with your breasts to get more stimulation. All the sensations drove you slowly to the edge. You had your orgasm silently, but your whole body was shaking, your back arched up. He helped you through your pleasure, before leaving your wetness. Joel put his arms around you to cuddle you as you were coming down your high.

“Don’t think I’ll be able to live without this.” You finally said as you came down from your high.

Joel smiled proudly and pressed his mouth against yours in a slow, sensual kiss.

He stopped when the door of your bedroom opened, letting in some light and noise. You hid yourself quickly with the blankets and panicked as you saw Sarah standing in the doorframe.

#bfd ! joel miller #bfd ! joel #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x yn #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #writing requests

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wintaerbaer · 1 year

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things we don’t say: part 1 (kth)

banner credit goes to the absolutely incredible @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers (they’re so, SO stupid), slooooow burn, angst, fluff

word count: 8.4k

series warnings: swearing, sexual themes, one instance of mild violence, alcohol use, infidelity, brief mentions of neglectful parents and alcoholism

chapter warnings: potty mouths, oc teasingly threatens her friends, art world inaccuracies (probably, idk how art shows work), fns music festival dynamite performance taehyung (BLESSED), friends who can’t mind their own business, quick backstory on the aforementioned shitty parenting, oc needs (and has) a drink

a/n: so here is my first foray back into writing after being out of the game for several years! big shout outs to @itaeewon / @jeonqkooks for the banner and encouragement as well as @taegularities for giving me writing advice and letting me cry in her inbox every time i got frustrated with this. they’re also both INCREDIBLE writers so go show them some love once you’re done here!

SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

Read on ao3

“She was checking you out.”

“She was not checking me out.”

“Kim Taehyung, she was so checking you out!”

“No.”

“She tucked her hair behind her ear and gave you the ‘come hither’ head tilt.”

Taehyung makes a face. “No one says that anymore, and that’s a perfectly normal gesture to make in everyday conversation.”

“When you want to get someone’s pants off.”

He shushes you, eyes flicking over to the nearby tables in the mostly-empty dining room with all of its dim lights and dark wood paneling. The bar had been a go-to for you and your friends in college, boasting a wide variety of burgers, sandwiches, and wraps that could even satisfy Jungkook and his bottomless appetite. Though your visits have become fewer and farther in between after graduation, nostalgia occasionally drags you back for a lunch or round of late-night drinks, which is how you’ve wound up here on a bright Saturday afternoon.

“You should ask for her number.”

“I am not asking her for her num—!”

“Can I get you anything?”

Taehyung’s face turns bright red as the waitress materializes at the side of your table as if on cue. It’s subtle, but she bats her eyelashes at him, body angled in his direction as if you’re not even there. You raise an eyebrow at him from across the table. See?

“I think we’re ready to order,” you say, mostly to put Taehyung out of his misery as he wordlessly stammers at the blonde.

You’d think he’s never seen a girl before in his life.

The waitress jots your orders down before strolling away in the direction of the kitchen, and you’d swear she’s swinging her hips a little more dramatically than before. You turn towards Taehyung.

“Told you.”

“I said no,” he says sheepishly, cheeks still brushed with pink. “Besides, she looks like she’s probably still in college.”

“You look like you’re probably still in college.” Taehyung rolls his eyes. “And we’re not that old, Tae. You could date a college student.”

“Pass.”

You sigh, leaning back in your seat. “Fine, but we still need to find you a date to the wedding. Can’t let those youthful good looks go to waste.”

Taehyung huffs in faux annoyance, but his lips quirk up at the compliment. “I’m not bringing a date.”

“So you say, but I’m going to change your mind.”

His smile widens. “Oh, really?”

“Really.” You hold out a pinky, and he only hesitates a moment before linking his with yours.

“Okay, we’ll see.”

You fall into one of your usual conversation patterns as you ask about how his job is going. He tells you about the upcoming art show at the gallery where he works as a curator, doing some freelance photography as a side gig. He’d managed to snag Maya, one of the aforementioned friends, a spot in it, and he smiles as he gushes over how great her pieces turned out, cheeks lightly flushed with what you interpret as pride. The two of them met freshman year as photography majors and quickly developed into friends and partners, challenging each other artistically and now occasionally teaming up to shoot larger weddings and events.

It makes pride warm your own belly, seeing him flourish and succeed in the field he had always dreamed of. Photography had been an outlet for him throughout high school, a vital reprieve from the insulated struggles of your shared childhood. Taehyung has never been a negative person, never weighed down in spite of the home life which would have given him every justifiable reason to become jaded. Still, you’d watched a new light bloom in him after he discovered photography as if the camera lens truly gave him a fresh way of seeing the world.

And you’ve always loved seeing happiness spill from your best friend.

Your food is just being brought to the table when Jimin comes shuffling up in a zombie-like trance, eyes wide and mouth slack.

"Finally made i—woah, are you alright?"

Jimin drops into a seat, glazed eyes fixated on the window overlooking the street.

"Maya and Kook are hooking up."

Taehyung chokes on his drink, water spraying onto his plate, while your jaw hits the floor.

"They're what?!"

"What the fuck?!"

Jimin works his jaw before wiping his hands over his face, "Yup."

You and Taehyung gape at him.

"What in the name of God would make you say that?" you ask emphatically, just as Taehyung says, "They hate each other."

"I don't know. Probably because I just caught her straddling him on our couch half-naked. But it’s just a feeling."

"Oh my God, we don't need to know that!"

"Our couch?!"

Jimin scrubs a hand over his face again as if he could wipe the image from his brain. “Yeah, I…can’t say I’m entirely surprised, but, Jesus, I did not need to see that with my own two eyes.”

“Okay, wait, wait,” you say, blinking rapidly in a futile attempt to clear your thoughts. “You’re sure it was Maya—not another one of his random hook-ups?”

“You think I don’t know what she looks like?” Jimin asks, pulling a face. “Look, she stopped by to grab some camera equipment Tae left for her and said she was going to hang around for a minute to wait for an Uber. I was already late for here so I left, but I forgot my wallet. When I went back they were…compromised. And I didn’t exactly stick around to interrogate them.” He frowns again, turning to Taehyung. “Speaking of, can you cover me for lunch?”

“This is unreal. Fucking unreal,” you fume. “I’m going to kill them.”

“Is it really all that surprising?” Jimin asks. “Somewhere in all of their bickering and nagging and constant frowning at each other was always some thinly-veiled sexual tension.” When you glare at him, he adds, “Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t sleep with her.”

“That’s not the problem, Chim. You know how this shit goes.” You rub a thumb between your eyes, trying to ease the sudden tension there. “They already fight all the time, and sex only ever complicates things. How long until this blows up and we’re forced to choose sides?”

And that’s the crux of your worry—a disaster seems inevitable. Maya and Jungkook have always been clear about their bare tolerance of each other, seeing it as a necessary evil for the benefit of the rest of your friendships. And while their arguments and bickering have been relatively muted in recent years after you, Taehyung, and Jimin had put down a collective foot and told them you were tired of hearing their shit, you are not eager to see them test the fragile thread that links all of you.

You’ve dealt with enough instability regarding the people in your life; the last thing you need is more.

The waitress comes up to take Jimin’s order while Taehyung studies you as you press the heels of your palms to your eyes.

“Hey,” he says as the waitress walks off again, a hand sliding across the table in your direction but not quite making it there. “No one is getting divorced or anything. Just talk to Maya first. We really don’t even know what’s going on here.”

Jimin lets out a puff of air. “I do. He had his hand up her—” He shuts his mouth as both you and Taehyung shoot daggers at him.

After a moment, your fingers tap absent-mindedly over your phone. “Yeah, I guess I’ll talk to her tonight. We’re supposed to go dress shopping for the art show.”

“Gotta get something nice for Jace?” Jimin asks, wiggling an eyebrow. You smirk back at him.

“No, he can’t make it. Work has him putting in overtime like crazy for their annual convention in a few weeks.”

“How is he doing—Jace?” Taehyung asks. His tone is light, but as Jimin turns to look at him, he notices his hand on the table had closed into a fist.

“He’s good,” you say, the tension finally melting out of your face as your eyes light up. “He’s been incredibly upbeat lately, actually—more romantic even.” There’s a pause as you hesitate. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was going to…you know.” You wave faintly with your left hand.

Jimin’s eyes go wide. “You think he’s planning to pro—” You quickly press a finger over your lips, and Jimin slaps a hand to his thigh. “Fuck yes! About damn time. Hey,” he settles his face in his palm and stares off dreamily. “Can I be your maid of honor?” Then, when you giggle, “Don’t laugh. I would look great in a dress.”

“I’ll put you on the short list,” you say, turning towards your food as Jimin pumps a fist. “But no more talk about that. I’ve waited damn long enough and do not want to jinx it.”

Taehyung’s knuckles had gone white.

“It’s really none of your business,” Maya says, picking up a bright purple, thigh-length dress off the rack and holding it up to her shoulders. “How about this one?”

“Too short.” She puts it back. “And I beg to differ. When something stands to get between two of my best friends who I care about deeply, I think that makes it my business.” When Maya doesn’t say anything, still nonchalantly flipping through dresses, you press on. “You know this can’t end well, right? You’re adding sex to an already volatile relationship, and I don’t like the idea of the friend group having to split if and when the two of you implode.”

“First of all, we’re not your damn parents. Kook may be a walking man child, but the rest of us are mature adults. We’d figure it out,” Maya says. She holds up a green gown, frowns, and returns it. Turning towards you, she quirks an eyebrow. “Second of all, who says that this morning was the first time?”

Your jaw drops. As you stand speechless, Maya resumes her dress perusal.

“Wha—how long?” you finally choke out.

“Ooh, this is pretty.” Maya pulls out a deep red cocktail dress, silver roses adorning the fabric. Catching the look on your face, she says, “Two years, give or take.”

“Two—!” you squeak before shaking your head. “No. No fucking way. You two can barely be in the same room for two minutes let alone sleep together for two years.”

Maya smirks. “Turns out he can do much better things with his mouth when he’s not using it to talk out of his ass.”

“Maya, oh my God!”

“What? You wanted to make it your business, right?”

You take a breath to steady yourself. “Look, I am just worried about you guys, okay? That’s it. You’re two of my best friends, and I don’t want to see anyone get hurt. And I certainly don’t want to be put into a situation where I have to choose between you.”

“That won’t happen,” Maya says, trailing off towards a dressing room. “For someone to get hurt, there’d have to be actual feelings involved, and the only feeling he gives me is a migraine.” She slips into a changing stall while you lean against the wall, still trying to wrap your head around what you’re hearing.

“Besides,” Maya’s voice sounded from behind the curtain, “Jimin only found out because of his stupid wallet, and he notices everything. If we could fool him for that long with no problems…” She pulls the curtain back. The red fabric of the dress hugs her hips, her dark hair draped over one shoulder. “How do I look?”

“Gorgeous, as usual,” you say. And then, because you can’t help it, “I’m sure Kook will love it.”

Maya rolls her eyes. “Oh, please.” She steps back into the stall and yanks the curtain closed again. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just…weird.”

“It’s only weird if you make it weird,” Maya says over the shuffling of clothes. “Nothing changed during the two years when you guys didn’t know and nothing has to change now.”

Maybe she’s right, you think to yourself, resting your head back and closing your eyes to the bright fluorescents above you. Maybe everything would be fine. Jungkook, in spite of his cocky playboy persona, may be a big teddy bear at heart, but you’ve never known him to mix emotions with pleasure. And Maya is certainly capable of handling herself.

Still, the whole thing just reeks of disaster waiting to happen.

The sun has just started its descent when the two of you step out of the shop, Maya now carrying a long white bag along with her. You pause for a moment, taking a slow inhale of the soft spring air. This is probably your favorite time of day, when the whole city is tinted gold, the push of the foot traffic slowing to a lazier pace as college students and businessmen alike meander their way to dinners and evening plans.

“Do you want to do dinner at my place?” Maya asks, starting to move in the direction of her apartment as you trail at her side. “I was planning on trying this new pot roast recipe, and I’d rather not get stuck with too many leftovers.”

“Ooh, that sounds good,” you say. “I’m in.”

“You just have to promise to stop looking so constipated.”

You let out a puff of a laugh. “I’m sorry—I really don’t mean to meddle.” You purse your lips. “I just don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“I know, you said that already,” Maya sighs. “But we’re all grown-ups, Y/N. I know you mean well, but you’ve gotta loosen up the reins a little bit.”

“Whatever. As long as I don’t have to walk in on you guys like Jimin did.” You chew the inside of your cheek. “And just…be careful.”

Maya rolls her eyes for what feels like the hundredth time that day. She knows your heart is in a good place—the stereotypical “mom friend” just looking out for everyone—but your own blind spot drives her crazy.

You insist that you don’t truly mean to meddle. Maya, however, has no such qualms.

“You know,” she says, smirking at you with a sideways glance. “If you’re really worried about someone getting their heart broken, you should spend less time worrying about me and Kook and more time worrying about Tae.”

Your steps slow, frown lines gradually forming on your face. “Tae? What about Tae?” You pause. “He and Luna broke up months ago. He said he was over her.”

They were barely together a year, but the relationship had been the longest of Taehyung’s life. He’d spent the two weeks following the breakup locked in his room while you juggled both making sure he was alright and moving into a new apartment.

Maya gestures to the bag in her hands. “Don’t stop walking. This thing is a bitch to carry.”

As you jog a few steps to catch up, you ask, “Why? Did he say something to you?”

“Oh, please.” Another eyeroll. “He was never into Luna. It’s a wonder they even lasted as long as he did.”

“Then who?”

“C’mon, Y/N.”

“Maya, I genuinely have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

It’s Maya’s turn to stop in her tracks this time, passerby giving the two of you dirty looks as they swerve around you. She pins you with a pointed expression that has you blinking back at her. “What?”

Maya only continues to stare, tilting her head and biting her tongue until you finally put the pieces together. Your eyes going wide before you shake your head vigorously.

“No. No. You’re wrong.”

Maya scoffs and continues walking. “Uh-huh.”

“I’ve told you this before. We’re just comfortable with each other. He’s my—”

“Best friend who has made heart eyes at you the entire time I’ve known you two.”

“He does not. He looks at me like he’s always looked at me.”

“Exactly.”

“I—need I remind you that I’m in a committed relationship?”

“So? That doesn’t affect his feelings.”

“Tae has dated plenty of girls.”

“And with much success, obviously.”

You hesitate. “It’s not his fault that they all—”

“See how he looks at you and decide not to waste their time?”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Sure it is.”

“You’re misreading it. It’s just that we have history.”

“And chemistry. And while we’re rattling off school subjects the two of you share, I’m sure he’d be willing to help you with your physical education.”

“Maya.”

“I’m just saying!” She adjusts the bag, the plastic rustling the air. “I just got this sense that something, I don’t know, broke after Luna. I figured he finally realized how hung up on you he is or something, and that’s why he hasn’t dated since.”

The idea of a broken Taehyung squeezes your heart as your frown impossibly deepens. “That’s not…no. That’s definitely not what it was. He’s fine. We’re fine. Everything is fine.”

“Okay. Fine. If you say so.”

The two of you fall into silence, the light crackle of Maya’s bag hanging delicately between you. The sun is starting to dip behind buildings now, stretching long shadows onto the ground in front of you as you turn onto her block. You inhale a long, shaky breath.

Yes, it’s been a while since Taehyung has dated, and yes, this is a little peculiar. He may be your best friend, but part of that means you’ve watched him grow from awkward kid to gangly teenager to one of the most handsome men you’ve ever laid eyes on. You’re not blind—you’ve seen how it’s unsurprisingly garnered him a good deal of female attention throughout the years (Saturday afternoon was not the first time he’s been hit on by a waitress). And while he’s never been anywhere near Jungkook’s level of playboy, he’s definitely been on his fair share of dates.

You don’t doubt that Maya’s noticed something of a shift in him—after you, she’s probably the person who knows him best. But both you and Taehyung have always insisted that your platonic relationship is, well, entirely platonic. So even if something changed for him, she has to be off base as to the why.

Right?

“Maya—”

“Look, I’m not telling you to sleep with him or leave Jace or anything like that. Just…” Maya purses her lips together, blowing air out of her nose. “Step back and look at what you’re doing to him before you lecture the rest of us. The guy is crazy about you, and you’re the only one who doesn’t see it.”

Well.

Shit.

She climbs the steps to her front door, slipping in the key and opening it before turning back to where you remain at the bottom of the stoop fiddling with your purse strap.

“You coming?”

“Um,” you hesitate. Your eyes drift off down the street, mind suddenly racing . “I don’t know. I’m not really hungry anymore.”

Maya’s expression softens. “I didn’t mean to upset you…”

“No, no,” you say with another shake of your head. “I’m not mad. I just think I want to go home, maybe take a bath.”

“Okay,” Maya slowly responds. “I’ll see you at the show Friday night?”

You smile. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Perhaps, Maya muses as she watches you saunter down the sidewalk, calling you out was not the right move. But the thought only lingers for a moment before she turns with a shrug and goes inside.

It’s Sunday night when you find yourself at the guys’ apartment for your and Taehyung’s weekly meal prep tradition. The ritual is the evolution of several years of having to care for yourselves—a need to eat turned into a sacred bonding activity for two people who had learned to rely on each other.

You and Taehyung met when you were eight-years-old after your teacher had fatefully situated your desks next to each other on the first day of school. A compliment from Taehyung on the color of your pencil case (a bright and bold turquoise) turned into a fast friendship that rapidly deepened as you realized just how similar you were: both only children living in homes with parents who were neglectful in their own ways.

In spite of growing up in a lavish, sparkling house with more rooms than you could count, your childhood was a struggle as your endlessly-busy, high-powered-lawyer parents virtually ignored your existence and left you to your own devices, working late hours every day and oftentimes not even ensuring that you had been properly fed. The mansion had felt like a prison, long hallways and tall ceilings devoid of life, filled with nothing but a terrible sense of loneliness.

That was, at least, until Taehyung showed up.

When either of you had a bad day (which was, admittedly, most days), he would slip away from the tiny, one-bedroom house on the poorer side of town, where his mother had abandoned him to an alcoholic father, and you'd sneak him in the back door (your parents either never noticed or simply didn't care). The two of you would raid the kitchen cabinets for snacks and lug your loot up to your bedroom, where you'd throw together a giant fort made of pillows and blankets with your prized possession at the center—a small globe light with tiny cut-out stars.

You never really talked about your respective situations—there was never really a need to. He saw your non-relationship with your parents firsthand, and you had heard the rumors about his family—whispers at school about the boy with secondhand clothes and a dad who often had to be dragged out of the local bars. The outside world may have been cruel, passing judgment on the both of you (and Taehyung especially) for circumstances outside of your control, but in the comfort of your room, even that fostered your kinship. It was like your own minuscule universe, belonging only to the two of you, and as you munched on your popcorn and watched the soft stars dance across the propped-up fabric, you'd talk and tell each other stories. Stories about anything from kings and queens to pirates to cowboys to astronauts. The only rule was that every tale had to have a happy ending.

As you got older, you traded your storytelling nights for evenings experimenting in the kitchen, sick of gorging yourselves on chips, pretzels, and sodas. Occasionally, once Taehyung purchased his first camera from a secondhand shop with money he saved delivering newspapers, he'd drag you around town for a photoshoot. You’d wander the streets together, helping him to scout out areas for inspiration, and he’d use you as his model to practice portraits and photographing human subjects. This tradition, too, had faded once the two of you escaped your hometown to go to college (you're not sure your parents even realized you had left), as Taehyung began working on class projects with Maya and you started spending more time with Jace. Only your weekly meal prep had persisted.

Your cooking had been a staple during college, you and Taehyung hosting “family dinners” for you and your friends on weekends (usually followed by a good few rounds of drinks), eventually shifting into you making batch meals on Sundays once you’d all graduated and begun working. That was when it had been you who’d lived in this apartment, back before you’d moved in with Jace and Jungkook had taken your place here. Still, even as lifestyles and living arrangements changed, you always wound up cooking with Taehyung on Sunday nights.

“What are mom and dad making tonight?” Jimin trills, reaching over the counter to take a swipe at a baby carrot. You shoo his hand away.

“Nothing, if you keep stealing our ingredients. Aren’t you supposed to be going to the gym?”

“I am, but someone,” he turns to yell over his shoulder, “is taking their sweet ass time getting ready!”

A door clicks open down the hall before Jungkook’s voice yells out, “Calm down, asshole, I’m almost done!” The door slams shut again.

“Such a diva,” Jimin huffs, gaining an edge to pop a carrot into his mouth. You let out a cry of protest.

“Chim, cut it out!” You turn to Taehyung who is at the opposite counter with his back to you, chopping more vegetables. “Tae, stop him.”

Taehyung snorts, not turning around. “That’s my job?”

“You have a knife.”

“Sorry, I’ve taken a vow of nonviolence.”

“Unbelievable,” you mutter as Jimin tries to reach around you again. “Hands off, Park, or I swear to God I will kick you in the balls, and you will not see it coming.”

“Guy’s gotta get some action somehow, am I right?” Jungkook comes striding down the hallway in a tank top and shorts, looking more like he’s ready for a magazine cover shoot than a gym visit as he bounds up to where you and Jimin stand in the kitchen.

“Hey, I get plenty of action!”

“You were literally whining this morning that it’s been three months.”

Jimin flushes. “That’s because I don’t sleep with my friends.”

“Neither do I,” Jungkook says, throwing a wink in your direction as you roll your eyes back at him.

“You’re disgusting. It’s a wonder Maya puts up with you.”

“It’s definitely more of a puts out situation.” He taps his chin thoughtfully. “And not really up? Contrary to what you might expect, she’s usually under—“

“Jeon Jungkook.” Then, when he makes a move to grab a carrot, you turn to Taehyung and snap, “Tae, give me a knife, I’ll stab them myself.”

Barely looking up, he reaches over to grab a knife out of the block, twisting it in his hands to hold it delicately by the blade and offer it to you handle-first. You grip it, only to slam the knife down firmly on its side in front of you, staring down Jimin and Jungkook in a silent challenge. But Jimin merely quirks an eyebrow in silent laughter, while Jungkook lets out a teasing, “Hot.”

You glare and raise the knife to chest level, pointing it at his sternum and trying to muster as much threatening energy as you possibly can in the face of a guy who could bench press you in his sleep. And while his facial expression remains one of passive amusement, he raises his hands in mock surrender and says, "Fine, fine, we're going."

With a sweep of their gym bags, they make their way out, and there's one last, "Save some for us!" from Jimin before the door swings shut behind them.

You sigh. "Idiots."

"But they're our idiots," Taehyung says, and a glance over your shoulder tells you that he's laughing at your frustration, a smile brightening his features and warming your chest.

"Remind me why we adopted them again?"

"You instantly fell for Jimin's puppy dog eyes when he was wandering around lost at orientation, and Kook..." He trails off. "Why did we adopt Kook?"

"School administration made you dorm with him, and we haven't been able to get rid of him since?"

"Oh yeah, that's right."

You fall into a comfortable silence, the only sound being that of your respective knives hitting the cutting board before Taehyung speaks up again.

"Speaking of Kook, you never told me how your conversation with Maya went."

You're thankful you have your back to him because you immediately feel yourself flush, heat shooting up your neck like an erupting volcano. You want to say, Yeah, it went great. She told me that you're desperately in love with me, and I'm the reason why none of your relationships have worked out. But that's ridiculous, right? Right?!

Instead, you do your best to mask your expression into one of relative impassivity and say, “Well, according to her, this isn’t new. They’ve been doing this for two years.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish.”

Taehyung ignores that. “How did none of us ever notice?”

“That’s what I can’t figure out. You’d think we would’ve noticed a change or something, right?”

He’s quiet, and you glance over to see him staring at a distant point out the window, lost in thought, the heel of the knife absentmindedly tapping a beat against the board. Taehyung’s always been introspective—content to sit in contemplation as he slowly works an idea through his mind. He’s thoughtful like that, ever the deliberator and rarely one to act on impulse. You balance each other out in this regard, with you having always been more inclined to break rules as you see fit and Taehyung being there to reel you in as needed.

“Maybe it works for them,” he finally says, and you feel your eyebrows shoot halfway up your forehead.

“You can’t seriously think this is a good idea.”

He shrugs, attention drawn back to the vegetables in front of him. “It hasn’t caused a problem yet, right?”

“The operative word there being yet.”

He shrugs again, brows tilting together. “I’m just saying that they’re both consenting adults, and if it’s gone this long without any catastrophes, maybe it really is a good arrangement for both of them.”

“It’s Maya and Kook. They’re always a catastrophe.”

“Exactly. They’d probably have an eventual falling out even if they weren’t sleeping together, so who knows? Maybe it actually helps them work some of that tension off.”

“That’s a terrible idea.”

“I didn’t say it was healthy.” He finishes chopping his last onion and sets his knife down, crossing the kitchen to check your own progress. Reaching over you, he grabs a piece of carrot and slips it into his mouth, grinning when you frown at him. “Really, Y/N, what can you do?”

“I know, but they’re…they’re the closest thing to family that we have. You know that.”

“Families can be dysfunctional. We both know that.” He munches on another carrot. “I’d still take them over my biological family any day.”

When that still doesn’t seem to entirely placate you, he reaches out to squeeze your shoulder, the tips of his fingers brushing the base of your neck and raising goosebumps there, before he slides his hand down to loop your pinkies together. “What will happen will happen. Don’t let it worry you unnecessarily.” Then he’s off heating up oil on the stove.

Normally, the brief touch would have barely registered in your mind—a simple gesture you had gotten into the habit of using when you were kids to provide reassurance. But it’s like your conversation with Maya has been inked under your skin, recoloring your perspective on the single-most steadfast relationship you’ve ever had in your life.

You hate it.

The oil begins to bubble on the stove, but Taehyung is distracted, rummaging around the refrigerator for something, so you take over, dumping in the beef that will help form the base for the soup. You throw in some seasoning, poking at the meat with a spoon and willing it to brown.

“So you’re really not interested in dating again?”

The words slip out, and the contents of the pot pop angrily at you.

Yeah, you might regret this later.

“Hmm?” Taehyung closes the fridge, cracking open the beer that’s now in his hand.

You curse your loose tongue under your breath. “Just…the other day at lunch. You were so against asking that waitress for her number.”

“She wasn’t my type.”

“And you don’t want to bring a date to the wedding.”

“I’d only bring a long-term girlfriend to a wedding. Less of a chance we’d have to edit her out of pictures later.”

“And how many dates have you been on since Luna? It’s been what, almost a full year?”

His brow scrunches, and the way he’s studying you makes you blush. “Why the sudden interest in my love life?”

You stare determinedly into the soup pot, trying to look nonchalant. “You’re my best friend, and I want to see you happy. Of course I’m interested.”

He props his hip against the counter in thought and takes a long drag of beer before he answers you. “I thought after Luna that it would be best if I take some time to focus on myself before diving back in. That’s all.”

“She really did a number on you, huh?”

“Something like that.”

You poke at the beginnings of your soup, memories of an absolutely miserable Taehyung surfacing in your mind. “It sucked, you know.”

“What?”

“Seeing your heart break.”

“Ah.” He takes another drink. “Right.”

“I swear, if I saw her again, I’d be tempted to kick her ass.”

He chuckles at that, and it rumbles his entire chest.

It might stir something in yours, too.

“I mean it, Tae.”

“Oh, trust me, I know you do.”

“Could be anywhere: club, grocery store. I’m not afraid to throw hands.”

He gives a tilt of his head. “She was a third degree black belt.”

“Well I kicked that Kenji kid in the groin during recess after he stole your backpack, and he cried for like twenty minutes. Remember that? He was practically six feet tall in the fifth grade, and that didn’t stop me. First degree black belt my ass.”

“Third degree.”

“Whatever.”

“Well as much as I appreciate your determined defense of my pride, I can assure you any emotional distress I suffered was minimal—“

“You haven’t dated since!”

“—and is definitely not worth putting yourself in the hospital over.”

“You don’t miss it though? What about like…” You trail off, cursing your stupid mouth getting ahead of your brain. You’ve never really talked about this before. Relationships, sure, but when it comes to the physical, along with your families, it’s one of the few subjects you avoid.

As your pause stretches on, he raises his eyebrows in question, and you decide to just come out with it.

“What about sex?”

Taehyung, to his credit, is unfazed by your sudden mention of the taboo. “I still have two hands, and they haven’t failed me so far.”

“Oh, Tae, ew.”

He grins devilishly at you, mischief brightening his eyes. It’s a look that he used to wear all the time when you were kids but which became rarer once he mellowed out with adulthood.

Seeing it on him now makes your heart jump.

“Point taken, forget I asked,” you say, and he laughs.

“Really, I’m fine with taking a break from dating for now. Isn’t that what that band you love is always preaching? Self-love and all that.”

You huff out a breath, nodding at his hands. “You don’t say.”

He laughs again, grinning down at you, and the uncertainty you’ve been feeling bubbles up again, your nerves sparking in time with a particularly loud crackle from the pot on the stove.

“Ah, geez, don’t let it burn,” he says, nudging you out of the way to take over. You take the opportunity to wander over to the fridge for a water bottle, feeling the need to cool yourself down. Honestly, what is wrong with you?

Taehyung, in sync with your moods by now, reads you like a book. “I feel like I should be asking you if you’re okay.” He says as he sets the meat aside and begins simmering the mirepoix in the fat. “You seem distracted.”

The conversation has become too much for you to wrestle with at this point, and you feel the need to shut it down before it gets out of control entirely. So you swallow down your anxieties like a pill without water and deflect.

“There’s just…a lot going on right now.”

It’s almost imperceptible, possibly a trick of the light, but his back stiffens ever so slightly. “Hmm, I’m sure.” He looks up at you from the stove, eyes pinning you where you stand. “But you’d tell me if there were something?”

You swallow. “Of course. You?”

“Of course.”

And that has to be enough for now.

The glow of the sunset creeps into your room as you put the finishing touches on your make-up for the night. You're running later than anticipated as you had hoped to catch Jace before you left—you know he has a virtual client meeting scheduled in fifteen minutes that he had planned to attend from home, but he texted you a half-hour ago saying that he got caught up at the office and might just take it there.

With your make-up done, you can't justify lingering any longer and decide to just leave him a note letting him know when you'll be back. Jace's desk is an absolute mess, but you're thankfully able to locate a notepad easily. A pen, however, is a different matter, and it's not long before you're rummaging through the drawers trying to find anything to write with. For a man who keeps his appearance so well-groomed, he has a true affinity for clutter, and you roll your eyes at the junk you have to sift through in search of a simple writing utensil: a hammer, old movie tickets, a broken picture frame, a ring box...

A ring box?

You pause, fingers hovering over the black velvet. Surely, you shouldn't look, right? You already feel like you're crossing some line by discovering the small box—you should preserve some element of surprise for both of your sakes.

Still, the devil on your shoulder whispers to sneak a peek...

Your decision is made for you as you hear the front door click open and shut, and you hastily close the drawer and try to school your features into something casual.

"Hey, gorgeous."

Jace leans in the doorway grinning, not a single sandy brown hair out of place and his impeccably-ironed dress shirt pulled tight across his toned chest. In a fraction of a second, you see his eyes flick from his desk drawer to where you stand stiffly in front of it.

"Hey!" The word comes out a little too loudly, and you rush to cover up the blunder. "I thought I wouldn't see you."

"Wanted to surprise my girl," he says, smile brightening as he swings a hand from behind his back to offer you a single red rose. You feel your cheeks heating up as you take it from him, marveling at how—even four years down the line—he can still manage to charm you.

He presses a kiss to your mouth, hands trailing down the back of your dress to palm your ass with a groan. "Fuck. Can't believe I have this work meeting when you look like this."

"And unfortunately, I need to get going, too, or Maya will have my head." You lean in for another quick peck. "Rain check for later?"

He chuckles, letting you go with one final squeeze. "I'll hold you to that."

"Look who finally showed up!" is what you're greeted with when you locate your friends in the gallery atrium, dodging the other patrons milling about.

"Sorry, got caught up with Jace," you say, shrugging at Maya's teasing glare.

Jungkook winks at you. "I'm sure you did."

"Yah, Kook, don't be gross," Jimin complains, slapping him on the arm.

"What?! She looks great! Right, Tae? Tell her she looks great."

You meet Taehyung's eyes for the first time since you walked up, and he shifts on his feet, gaze darting down to the accentuated curve of your hips. Clearing his throat, he smiles and says, "You look beautiful."

Cheeks hot, you murmur a quiet, "Thanks," so distracted by the awkwardness of the moment that you don't notice the look exchanged by Jimin and Maya between you.

Friends can call friends beautiful and not have it mean anything beyond that, right? You told Maya she looked gorgeous when she bought her dress with you last weekend, and you’d definitely be willing to admit that Taehyung looks incredible tonight. His navy blue suit hugs the lines of his body perfectly—highlighting his tall, lithe form—while his hair is combed up and off his forehead in a style that projects both professionalism and approachability. Combine that with the easy smile he keeps on his face, and he’s basically in male model territory.

You’ll be stunned if he doesn’t get hit on again tonight.

You make some idle small talk with your friends for a few minutes (Jungkook is trying to convince the others to head over to the bar where he works after the reception) before Maya gently nudges you with an elbow.

"Go and have a look around. Mine are back there," she declares, nodding her head towards the right hand corner of the exhibit, "but you should really check out all of the work—there's some good stuff. Hoseok and Sunny are around somewhere too."

You nod, welcoming the chance to see what it is your friends have been working so hard on, and excuse yourself to peruse the gallery. You may not be much of a creative mind yourself, but years of friendship with Taehyung and his infectious enthusiasm have at least helped you develop an appreciation for art. Weaving between the walls of frames and canvases, you stop here and there as a piece catches your eye: dark bars slashed across a messy outline of a heart titled Fake Love; a small boy offering up a waffle cone that holds a rose instead of ice cream—For You.

However, you find yourself slowing down entirely when you get to Maya's collection of photographs. They're mostly black and white candids of strangers. A woman shopping in an outdoor market. A girl chasing a dog in a park. Your friends pop up occasionally, and you smile at one of the memories you recognize: Jungkook pushing Jimin into the pool during your friendcation last year, bunny smile stretched wide across his face.

And suddenly you're frozen by a photo that's in full color.

It's Taehyung's face in close-up, his head turned to the side as he looks at something out of frame. His jaw strikes a downward line, mouth ever so slightly dipped open in something akin to wonder and tan cheeks curving with subtle delight. It's his eyes you can't look away from, though, opened wide enough to soak in whatever he's looking at that they reflect the golden lights around him, tiny galaxies swimming in his irises.

"Enjoying the view?" a deep voice teases at your shoulder, the man himself coming to stand at your side.

"That's an incredible picture of you," you tell him, still taking it in.

He hums in agreement. "I told you, she did a good job."

"Was that last summer?"

"Yeah." He nods his head at the picture of Jimin and Jungkook. "Same night as that, I think."

"What were you looking at?"

Taehyung is quiet as he thinks, scratching lightly at his nose. "I can't say I remember. Probably Hoseok walking out with that plate of pork belly. That was mouth-watering."

You laugh, and he smiles back at you before gesturing at the rows of artwork. "Can I show you some of my favorites?"

"I'd love that."

You let him drag you away, but not before glancing back to read the title card delicately placed next to Taehyung's image.

Your eyes tell.

Taehyung navigates you around the exhibit for a while, describing his role in organizing the gallery and stopping to gush about his favorite pieces. You've always loved hearing him talk about art, his passion for the subject illuminating his face as he enthuses about light and shadows and colors.

He's explaining the rule of thirds to you when Maya interrupts, telling Taehyung she has a potential client for him that she wants him to meet. He promises to find you later as she whisks him away, and, alone again, you decide to head to the adjoining reception area in search of your other friends.

You’re only a few steps into the room when you hear a voice call out your name, Jimin flagging you down from where he stands at a table with Jungkook, Hoseok, and Sunny, and you quickly slide up to hug the latter two.

“You guys made it! We’ve missed you. How’s wedding planning going?”

Hoseok groans into his champagne. “Please do not remind me,” he grumbles. “It makes med school feel like a cakewalk.”

“What my wonderful fiancé meant to say,” Sunny says, playfully elbowing Hoseok in the side and making him sputter on his drink, “is that it’s going fantastically, and we can’t wait to celebrate with you all.”

“Rumor is that it’s the can’t-miss event of the year,” Jimin singsongs. “And Kook and I are bringing the party!” He reaches over so he and Jungkook can share a short but excessively elaborate handshake.

Sunny looks on, amused. “Speaking of, do you two know if you’re bringing dates? We don’t have to finalize headcount quite yet, but knowing sooner rather than later would be appreciated.”

“I will definitely be going stag, but I think Kook might have one, yeah?” Jimin’s voice is teasing, but Jungkook doesn’t catch on, throwing him a quizzical look and causing Jimin to clarify with a smirk. “Maya.”

Jungkook scoffs, muttering, “Not a chance,” while Hoseok’s and Sunny’s eyebrows shoot up in sync.

“You and Maya are dating now?” Sunny asks, eyes wide.

Jungkook tosses Jimin a glare. “No, he’s being an ass.”

When Sunny and Hoseok continue to look confused, glancing back and forth between Jungkook and Jimin, Jimin explains, "We found out recently—and unpleasantly for me, might I add—that Maya and Kook here have been engaging in some activities with, ah, no strings?"

Hoseok's eyebrows go impossibly higher, threatening to meld with his hairline, as his mouth pops open in surprise. "Uhh...congrats?"

Jungkook shakes his head, bottom lip jutting out like a child. "Chim's just jealous because he's in a drought."

"Hey!"

"I, for one, don't see an issue," Sunny says, hopping in to play peacemaker before Jimin and Jungkook devolve into one of their notorious bickering sessions. "You're both adults. And don't sweat it, Jimin, any girl would be lucky to have you."

"What's that supposed to mea—" Hoseok starts to ask before Sunny shuts him up with a finger to his lips, subtly nodding her head at the clearly placated men.

"I just can't believe you two are finally getting married." You change the subject, snatching up a flute of champagne off a tray as a waiter walks by. "Been a long time coming."

Sunny hums. "To be honest, I'm surprised we're beating you and Jace to the alter," she says, and now it's your turn to cough on your drink. "When is that happening?"

"Oh, I, um—" you stutter, as you weigh how much you should say. You should keep what you saw earlier a secret, right? After all, what if you're wrong and you come out looking like a fool?

But four pairs of eyes are now fixed on you expectantly, and these are your friends so you cave.

"Okay, I am swearing all of you to secrecy," you say, making deliberate eye contact with each of them in turn to emphasize your point, "but I literally found a ring box in his desk earlier when I was getting ready to come here."

The table erupts in your friends' squeals and cheers, Jimin and Jungkook coming around to playfully shake your shoulders.

"Oh my gosh, I knew it!"

"That's amazing news!"

"I want to be man of honor!"

"I already called dibs!"

"What are we calling dibs on?"

Your heart skips as Taehyung joins your table, smiling at the five of you but obviously perplexed as to what the ruckus is about. And maybe you're imagining it, but your friends all seem to quiet down at his appearance as well, causing Maya's words to once again echo in your mind. The guy is crazy about you, and you're the only one who doesn't see it.

An awkward silence drapes itself over the table, Jimin being the one to pipe up when Taehyung's expression begins to morph from curious to concerned. "Y/N, tell him the good news!"

At that, Taehyung's brown eyes settle on you, and so you take a deep breath and spill. "I found a ring box in Jace's desk."

You're looking at him intently, and it's only the tiniest sliver of a second, but you see it. Unmistakably.

His face drops.

If Maya's photo captured stars in his eyes, you watch each go out one-by-one, his lips pressing together like he's trying not to be sick. A heaviness hits his shoulders that has his chest curling inwards and you almost reaching out to him...

And just like that—all at once—he's gathered his features into a smile and beams at you.

"That's fantastic, Y/N. I'm so incredibly happy for you."

His voice sounds genuine, dripping in the baritone honey that is so warm and so him, but you know what you saw—you're sure of it—and it has your mind spinning.

Shit, shit, shit, she was right.

You down your champagne in one gulp, oblivious to the shocked faces around you as you throw it back and thump the glass harshly on the table. "I'm going for a drink. Anyone want anything?"

You barely give them time to shake their heads before you're scurrying away to the bar and ordering a cosmopolitan—strong. Thoughts whirring, you try to make sense of Taehyung’s crestfallen expression as the bartender mixes your drink. There surely must be an alternate explanation, right? Until now, Taehyung has never, ever given any indication that he has feelings for you. This must be a mistake; you must be seeing things…

But just as the bartender slides your glass across the countertop, you glance back at the table, blood running cold as you find Taehyung already looking at you. He gives you a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t quite make it to his eyes before turning back to listen to whatever Jimin is currently saying.

You quickly down your second drink of the night and order a third.

a/n: and we’re off! likes, reblogs, comments, asks, feedback, constructive criticism, and carrier pigeons are all appreciated! this started off as a story with all OCs, and the first drafts of some of these scenes were originally written in third person omniscient so please forgive me if the POVs are a little all over the place in this chapter. it’ll be rectified moving forward!

taglist open: just message or reply 😊

#taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #taehyung imagines #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #taehyung #bts fic #bts fanfic

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herrscherofinsanity · 8 months

Text

One of us is falling

Summary: Getting lost trying to find a party was never meant to be a good thing, but Jimin always found a way to surprise you.

Fluff

Yu Jimin (Karina) x fem!reader

Word count: 1.8k

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I’m late, I’m late, I’m so late. Mrs. Santos is going to kill me.

Those were the words echoing in your mind as you raced down the street towards the restaurant you worked at. Your sister was supposed to drive you there, but the old van you two had been sharing finally gave up which meant you had to make a run for it if you wanted to keep your job.

You burst through the doors of Café Contigo startling the people inside. You sent them an apologetic smile as you made your way to the register where one of your other coworkers was doing her best to stifle her laughter.

“You okay?” Sana, another waitress at the restaurant, asked. “It’s not like you to be late, and you look like you just ran a marathon”.

“Car problems” you mumbled, trying to tame your hair. “I’m sorry, just give me a second to get my uniform and I’ll join you”.

You made your way to the small locker rooms located at the back of the restaurant, trying to get yourself ready to go as quickly as possible. You sighed, it’s not like you hated your job, the restaurant was very well kept, the pay was generous, and the staff (bosses included) were very nice, what bothered you was the fact that you were wasting precious quality time with your best friend.

Yu Jimin, your best friend since middle school who was a college student on the other side of the country while you stayed in your hometown working as a waitress.

You and Jimin had done everything together ever since you had met, you were inseparable, but when the time to graduate came around you realized your plans were different. Jimin wanted to go to college as soon as possible; you on the other hand, wanted to take a year off and get some rest.

Even though you took different directions, your friendship kept standing strong. You tried to talk to each other as much as possible, and you were understanding of the other’s schedule; nevertheless you still longed for your best friend.

When Jimin announced she would be coming back for a few weeks you were over the moon, mentally planning everything you and your best friend would do together. It would’ve been perfect… if only your work schedule didn’t clash with absolutely everything.

You had spent the first day of Jimin’s break glued to each other; from watching movies, to catching up or simply enjoying each other’s presence, but it couldn’t last forever. You had an early shift at the restaurant the very next day, so you weren’t going to be able to hang out with the other girl. Jimin had complained at first, but she relaxed when you proposed an impromptu sleepover. As you finished getting ready, you blushed, remembering Jimin’s words from the night before.

“You have no idea how happy I am to be back home”.

“What’s so good about Bayview? You’re not missing much”.

“I wasn’t talking about Bayview, I meant you. You’re my home”.

Butterflies. You frowned at the feeling, you had never felt like that when it came to Jimin, it was foreign. You shook your head, walking out of the locker room and towards an occupied table. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on your new found feelings for your friend, you had a job to keep.

“Hi, welcome to Café Contigo! Are you guys ready to order?”.

____________________

“Hey y/n, it’s time for your break” Sana walked up to you with a smile on her face. You thanked her and made your way to the back so you could check your phone. You let Jimin know last night when your break was supposed to start with the hopes of her joining you for a bit.

As you retrieved your phone from your bag, you noticed you had two missed calls from your best friend. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, did something happen to her? You dialed her number and Jimin, impatient as always, picked up on the first ring.

“Finally!” she exclaimed. “I thought you had a break right now?”.

“I do” you laughed “it just started”.

“Okay, well, that’s great because I have something important to tell you”.

“Yes?” you bit your lip in anticipation, the butterflies coming back.

“I have this bucket list of things I want to do before I have to leave, and one of those things is going to a party with you!” she announced happily, you giggled at her antics.

“And why is that something you want to do? We’ve been to parties before”. Jimin paused for a second before replying as if she was weighing her options.

“Because it will be different this time, we’re older and wiser” she said, but her argument wasn’t really convincing, nevertheless you accepted. You would gladly walk through a burning house if Jimin asked you to.

“Okay then, whatever you say” you replied.

You two kept chatting away for the remainder of your break, the butterflies never leaving you alone.

____________________

“Hey!” Jimin exclaimed when you got into her car. “You look beautiful tonight”.

You had rushed home when your shift at the restaurant ended, you didn’t want to make Jimin wait, so you got ready as fast as humanly possible. Your outfit and make up could be better, yet Jimin still thought you were the most beautiful girl she had ever seen.

Jimin had insisted on driving you both to the party so you could spend as much time together as possible, and you didn’t have a reason to complain so here you were.

“Thanks, you look gorgeous”. You meant what you said, Jimin looked amazing with her signature black jean jacket, the rest of her outfit matching it effortlessly. The longer you stared at your friend, the hotter your face felt. Butterflies, great. You cleared your throat, trying to pull yourself together, Jimin looked at you curiously. “So, where exactly are we doing?”.

Jimin chuckled nervously before replying. “I have to be completely honest with you, I’m not sure”, you shot her an incredulous look which made her laugh genuinely this time. “Don’t look at me like that. I have the address, I’m just not familiar with that part of the city, but it’s okay! It’s part of the adventure!”.

You playfully rolled your eyes at your friend, only Jimin would say something like that. “Whatever you say, Jimin, at least we’re spending time together”.

“That’s the spirit!” she said as she drove away from your house.

Laughter filled the car, you and Jimin kept exchanging stories and singing along to the playlist you had chosen for the ride. Everything felt right in that moment, there was nothing that could ruin the peace you shared.

"Oh wait" Jimin said, she lowered the music's volume as if that would help her see better. "I think we're here".

Jimin parked the car near a house that looked like it hadn't been inhabited in ages. Even though Jimin didn't give you much details regarding the party, you were still sure she wasn't the type to go to abandoned places for fun.

"I don't think this is the place, Jimin" you said carefully. She squinted, trying to get a better look at the house and then turned to you with a shy look on her face.

"Yeah, I think you're right" she set the car in motion once again "let's keep going, it shouldn't be far from here". You hummed in agreement, but boy were the two of you wrong.

Jimin had made a total of six stops where she was “one hundred percent sure” the party was taking place. With each failed location, the frown on her face deepened and her frustration sky rocketed; you on the other hand, found the whole thing hilarious. From the way Jimin would furrow her eyebrows in concentration, to how she would run her hands through her hair in frustration and the way she pouted her lips like a child… you found the scene to be more than a bit amusing.

You finally cracked when Jimin locked eyes with you, the frustration swimming in her eyes was clear, but the little smile she sent your way in an attempt to seem nonchalant made you laugh your heart out.

Your laughter filled the car, Jimin scoffed at your reaction but eventually joined in on your amusement. You both laughed until your stomachs ached and tears were spilling out of your eyes. Jimin made an effort to wipe your tears away, but she had always been clumsy to a fault. Instead of being smooth and brushing your cheeks, she ended up stabbing one of her manicured nails right on the bridge of your nose, leaving a small scratch behind.

Jimin panicked when she realized she had hurt you, she leaned in to try to get a good look of the scratch and that’s when your laughter died down. She’s too close. Butterflies.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you!” she exclaimed as she cradled your face with her hands, examining the small wound. You felt your face heating up at the close proximity and the attention you were receiving.

“It’s fine, I know it was an accident” if you hadn’t been staring so intently at your best friend, you would’ve missed the way her eyes moved from the scratch on your nose to your lips for a split second.

“I’m sorry…”

“Jimin, you don’t have to keep apologizing, I’m okay” you breathed out, she was still holding you close.

“That’s not what I’m apologizing for”.

Before you could ask her what she meant, Jimin cut you off by pressing her lips against yours. The butterflies you kept feeling around your friend came back in full force. You quickly moved your lips against hers, not wanting her to think you were rejecting her advances.

You had never done this with your best friend before, you had no idea you felt this way towards her, but in that exact moment, with Jimin softly moving her lips against yours, caressing your cheek with one of her hands while the other was tangled in your hair, everything felt right. Kissing Jimin felt right, it felt like coming home.

The kiss ended way too soon for your liking. Jimin pulled away but her forehead was pressed against yours as she tried to catch her breath. “You have no idea how long I have been wanting to do that”, she whispered.

You smiled, pecking her lips before quickly pulling away. You giggled at the pout she had on her face. Wrapping your arms around her neck you sent a sly smile her way, “should we keep looking for that party or would you rather go back to my place?”.

“Maybe you and I should have a party of our own”, Jimin replied breathlessly before pressing her lips against yours once more, the promise of something more was made very clear with the way she kissed you a bit more desperately this time.

____________________

A/N: Hi! It's been a while since I last posted something, I've been way too busy with classes this semester. I hope you enjoy this one shot, I will definitely make an effort to finish the longer ones I have planned.

By the way, if you get the references included in this work, we should get married.

#aespa imagines #aespa scenarios #aespa x fem reader #karina imagines #aespa #karina scenarios #yu jimin #yu jimin scenarios #yu jimin x reader #karina x reader #yu jimin imagines

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mrsparrasblog · 30 days

Text

STRIPCLUB GHOST

I think he wouldn't go to a Stripclub in the Canon but my brain was working again lel. You can find more on my A03: Mrsparras

Moving to England to study abroad has always been your biggest dream since you were a child, so when you graduated and were old enough, you did it. You blessed Erasmus that you wouldn't have so much debt—well, at least you thought so, but in the end, you couldn't make ends meet.

So you decided to search for a job that you could do while studying that also fit with your busy schedule, so you started to work in a strip club in Soho under the promise that you would only be a waitress and nothing more.

You stood behind the bar counter wearing the skimpiest clothes you had and prepared drinks, and to your surprise, it was fun. Even watching the stripper from far away gave you straight-up BI panic; they were also beautiful and mature.

Surprisingly, you even got a lot of tips despite not dancing half-naked around the pole. The customers all called you Angel; being the youngest and most unattainable had its perks.

One day there was a new customer who wore a Ghost mask and was a brick house of a man. He was nice to you despite looking scary.

"Come on, Bunny, tell me why you are doing this," he asked while you served him a glass of his favorite Bourbon. He was nice, always left you a good tip, and was generous. So you didn't feel the urge to lie to him; why should you?

"I need to pay bills; food and rent are expensive in Manchester."

"I see," he said, leaving this time a 60-pound tip on his 18-pound Bourbon.

"Sir, it's too much."

"It isn't Bunny; buy yourself something nice with it, okay?"

And you did buy yourself a proper meal after a long time of only eating pasta with pesto, and it was delicious.

The next day, when you went to work, you got an offer from your boss: 500 pounds for a private striptease, 120 pounds more if it turns into a lapdance. You never wanted to do this; you couldn't dance, and you were insecure about your body. But it was easy money, and you could always bottom out if it was too much for you.

"The man left this costume for you behind." Your bodyguard gave you a bunny costume with bunny ears, white soft lingerie, and a bunny tail. Oh god, what a freak. Problem No. 2: It was at least 2 sizes too small, making your tits almost fall out.

You were curious to find out who specifically requested you, and when you walked into the private room, you saw Ghost. You were smiling; you knew you could trust him, and you would lie if you said you didn't develop a crush on him the last few weeks when he slowly became your regular.

"Ghost"

"Bunny"

"So, um, do you want me to dance?"

"I want you to be comfortable, but yes, I would love watching you dance."

So you began to dance awkwardly at first, but then you enjoyed it, dancing around provocatively, shaking your ass a bit in his reaction, and he enjoyed it. The half-hour stopped, and you were a bit sad.

"It was fun, Ghost."

"It was Bunny."

You thought it would be the last time you did this, but when your bodyguard told you Ghost requested you for the rest of the week, every day your vagina made this weird butterfly-clenching thing. You would dance for him every day.

So you began to dance with him every day, even being bolder and giving him a lap dance. You touched his strong abs while circling your hips around him. You were afraid that the fabric wasn't thick enough to hide your throbbing cunt.

"Love, please don't move," he whimpered.

You looked at him in confusion and asked, "Did I do something wrong?"

"Bunny, no, just don't move."

You felt his massive erection under you, and you grinded against him again. "Do you mean because of this?"

"Stop it. I don't want to use your poverty for my gain."

"Did you call me a prostitute?" You asked him, feeling completely furious, and you would have fucked him even despite the money.

"No Bunny I'm just saying you're too good for me, okay? Im a dirty man; men like me aren't made for little sweet girls like you," he said before leaving you in utter confusion, horny, and alone.

You didn't think he would return the next day, but he did, and you refused his cash this time before going to the private suite with him.

"Why do you refuse my money? You need it, and I have enough of it."

"I don't want you to see me as a prostitute."

"I could never see you as less than an angel."

This time you didn't strip for him; you just sat on his lap and talked. He told you that he works as a police officer, even though you thought this was a lie, and you told him all about your native country, how you moved here, and how you loved it.

"All I'm saying is I don't think sex is good enough to pay for it," you claimed while laughing. The erection pressing against your thighs was something you already got used to.

"Then you were with the wrong men before Bunny; sex is great."

"It's okay"

He laughed, "You never had an orgasm before ?" his fingers trailed down on the thin fabric of your pants.

You blushed immediately and shook your head, grinding against his fingers for the smallest friction.

"That explains why you are so desperate, Bunny," he chuckled and left.

The next day, one day before your day off, you went to work again, instinctively walking to the private room where he already sat, this time shirtless. He was the picture of a perfect man with strong abs, and a blonde happy trail down to his thick erection that was only covered by his briefs.

"Sit down and give me a lapdance, please, Bunny."

You sat down on him, but this time he grinded against you, not you against him. You would love that sudden change, but you were a bit mad that he left you yesterday after calling you desperate.

"Tell me you want me, and I'm all yours."

"I don't want you," you lied to him.

"I think you want this, bunny. Don't lie to yourself." He leans in close, his hot breath tickling your ear. "I can see it in your eyes. You want me to fuck you hard and make you scream."

"No"

"Yes, you do," he insists, pulling down your costume to expose your bare ass. His hand traces the crack in your ass before dipping between your cheeks, pressing against your entrance. "Admit it, bunny. You want me inside you."

"No, I don't want you," but your body betrayed your stubborn act. You were soaking wet and a moaning mess for him. He was so hot and big, and all you wanted was to let him take care of you. Let him show you what a real man is.

"Lie to me again, and I'll make sure you regret it." His fingers begin to probe, seeking entry into your tight little hole. "Tell me, bunny. Have you ever been taken like this before? Fucked raw by a real man." He laughed at you, his voice sounding mean and dominant to his usual nice behavior. Maybe he had a stressful day, but did you care about what made you so lucky today?

"Good," he growls, finally pushing past your resistance and forcing his middle finger inside you. "Because I'm going to make sure you scream for me." His other hand moves up to grope one of your breasts through the costume, pinching the nipple hard.

"Oh fuck, Ghost."

"That's it, bunny. Let me hear you," he demands, adding a second finger to stretch you wider. His thumb rubs over your hardened nipple as his fingers thrust deeper, searching for that sweet spot inside you. "You like that?"

"No," you moaned.

"Lie to me again, and I'll gag you," he warns, pulling his fingers free with a wet pop. "Now tell me the truth." He grabs your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes. "Do you want my cock inside you?"

You were thinking of lying again only so that he could gag you, but you needed him right now more than you needed anything in your life before. "Yes"

"Good girl," he praises, lowering his mouth to capture one of your nipples in a hot, sucking kiss. His other hand slides down between your legs, rubbing against your pleading clit.

"You've never felt anything like this, bunny?" He purrs against your skin, "You just want me to shove my cock inside you and claim you as mine, don't you?" He already knew the answer, and he was determined to give you your real first orgasm.

"I never felt like this before, Ghost."

"That's right," he agrees, standing up and pushing your legs apart. His hot breath is fanning across your wet folds as he stares down at his prize. "You're going to feel even better when I'm buried balls deep inside you."

Your pussy clenched and throbbed, and now he saw the evidence of your lust.

"You see, bunny," he says with a chuckle, "your body knows what it wants." His thick cock is at your entrance now, slowly pushing inside. The head teased the tight ring of muscles before finally breaking through with a small groan from both of them.

"Oh god, it's too big." It was bigger than the dildo that you had at home, but you liked the burn and to be filled.

"That's because you've never had a real man inside you before," he growls, starting to thrust deeper. Each movement hits your sweet spot and makes your insides clench around him. "You like that, don't you? Feeling my cock stretching you out?"

"Ghost, im going to cum," you whined as he started to stroke your hard nub while he fucked you restlessly.

"Good," he says, picking up the pace. His hips slam against yours as he takes you hard and fast. The chair creaked under their combined weight. "You're mine now, bunny," he pants out between moans. "Say it."

"Im yours, Ghost," you moaned. He continued the abuse on your pleading clit, leaving soft hits on it before starting to circle it again how you liked it. He read you like a novel that needs to be analyzed. He tried to interpret every movement of yours and intesed his flicks against your clit until you finally came, screaming and crying. Your head fell against his neck, and you bit it like a feral animal. Fuck you thought what has gotten into you.

"There's my good girl," he murmurs, he leaned down to kiss you roughly. His free hand squeezes one of your breasts as his cock continues to pound into you. "This is how a real man fucks." Simon picks up the pace even more, grinding against you as his hips smack against your perfect ass.

The head of his cock hits that sweet spot inside you, again and again, sending waves of pleasure through your body. "Fuck,"

"Ghost, please." You started to whimper, being completely cock drunk.

"Please, what, bunny?" he asks between moans. His thrusts become even more erratic as he loses control. "Do you want me to cum inside you?" he asked while his eyes turned darker at the thought of claiming you as his, his little innocent bunny.

"Yes"

"Yes, bunny?" he asks teasingly. His free hand left your breast to snake down between your legs, teasing at your clit. His cock is throbbing inside you as he takes you harder than ever before.

"Yes, yes, please." You started to beg, and you felt a bit pathetic.

"Yes, what, bunny?" he asks, his voice rough with desire.

"Cum inside of me, Ghost."

"You want me to cum inside you, bunny?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. His thrusts become even more erratic as he nears his climax. "Tell me how much you want it."

"So much, Ghost," you whined.

"Tell me you're mine," he demands, his voice laced with need. His cock is throbbing inside you as he reaches his peak, filling you with his hot cum. "Say it, bunny." You were in orgasmic bliss, clenching around him as he erupted inside of your willing womb. You took everything of his big cock and cum so eagerly, almost greedy, afraid someone would steal it from you. I'm yours."

"Tomorrow at 8 p.m., I will pick you up; we are getting dinner."

You looked at him confused, and he only chuckled, "Did you think I fucked my perfect girl and let you leave then? No, we are going out; well, only if you want to go on a date with this old perverted dog."

"It depends on whether you are ugly behind the mask."

"Quite the opposite, love."

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wheresmymilliondollarman · 1 year

Note

can you do hcs of dating grayson hawthorne?

grayson hawthorne x fem! reader

hcs about meeting & dating the heir apparent of the hawthorne family.

a/n: ofc!! thx sm for the request & sorry for the wait!! i just got a new one also requesting grayson so this one goes out to you too anon!! grayson hawthorne is one of the lomls🫶 i am so indecisive between him & jameson fr (but for avery i think jameson is better suited for her). hope u enjoy!! i'm a sucker for the poor x rich trope sorry & i love tobias lowkey playing match maker in these LOL & this follows some of the main story but then kinda trails off

word count: 6.8k

warnings: almost drowning (LOL), minor mature language, few spoliers for final gambit i guess?,

before you were dating the second oldest hawthorne, you were just a girl working part-time at a diner as a waitress, trying to make enough money to buy a car. you were relentlessly getting picked up/dropped off everywhere by either one of your parent's vehicles.

being a waitress wasn't ideal when dealing with rude customers, pretentious managers, and occasional annoying co-workers, but you had decent pay, and tips weren't too bad.

most of the time you were running the show on your own. serving tables, acting as hostess, dealing with unsatisfied customers, etc. it wasn’t even the lack of staff, it was lazy behaviors of your co-workers and manager - who got the job because her dad owns the business.

one peculiar afternoon you were doing your usual job of serving tables and taking orders when an older gentleman walked in, way classier than your usual customers. you seated him, gave him a menu, and then returned to the kitchen to serve your other tables.

the diner staff seemed to be murmuring words and glancing back at the man, but you didn't pay any mind to it. it wasn't unusual for you to catch staff gossiping about customers.

going back to the table, you gave him the complimentary water and then asked for his beverage of choice - he chose a simple black coffee. you went to the kitchen and returned with his drink. you were on the verge of asking for his meal order, but he looked preoccupied with a crossword puzzle.

you peaked over, and noticed he looked possibly stuck, so you offered your help because you often did crosswords when you were bored. "do you mind if i take a look?"

he said nothing, only gesturing his head toward his little crossword booklet and pen beside it. even his pen looked fancy.

you looked over the one he was one, and after reading the hint and the number of boxes for the word, you could figure it out.

"tatersall."

the old man peered at you as if you spoke a different language.

"it's fabric with checks and lines, the phrase is a bit old-fashioned. i only know it 'cause that's what my dad refers to his shirts as." you explained.

he looked intrigued by your words, as if you'd given him an idea. he thanked you, then went on to fill out the boxes.

words were said much after that. he drank his coffee and left sometime while you were busy serving other tables. when you returned to ask him if he wanted anything else, he was already gone. but not before leaving $200 dollar tip next to his finished coffee.

you thoroughly checked if it was real, not believing anyone would purposely leave such a tip for a cup of black coffee. but in fact, it was very real. and you even bought yourself a very cute dress to commemorate. just to double check it was legit, of course.

the older man with silver-blue eyes continued to come into the diner every few days, never ordering anything other than a black coffee and always being generous with the tip.

you two had polite conversations and odd ones rooted questions he dropped on you. you noticed a lot of them pertained to money and contributions. but you never passed on answering.

they were questions like "what jobs have you worked?", "what are your parents' occupations?", "are you interested in charities and donations?", and "what do you do with the money you earn?"

thru these visits, he finally gave you his name, tobias. it shouldn't had surprised you he had a unique name to match his unique personality.

you didn't get much information about tobias. all he revealed to you was he enjoyed games, was obviously wealthy, and has 2 daughters, one son, and 4 grandsons - who weren't too off from your age.

he liked to talk about a certain one, the second oldest, grayson. you created an image he was a closed-off, goal-driven, cunning, and loyal guy. you didn’t wanna jump to conclusions, but one could say he was slyly trying to set you up with him.

it wasn’t uncommon for grandparents to come in the diner and rave about their grandsons. at times they would even show you a multitude of photos saying how handsome they are and well-raised gentlemen who would be a great match for you.

you never had the heart to straight up tell them ‘not interested’, so you listened to their praises and then fabricated a lie as to why you were unable to date their grandson.

if tobias ever were to ever try and do that you would use the same methods. you were sure his grandson was an acceptable man, but you had no interest in going on a blind date with anytime soon.

however, the conversation didn't maneuver that direction; instead, he went on to talk about how grayson was in charge of a foundation he owns and basically manages everything.

you found that rather impressive, considering he was only eight-teen. then you thought, 'just how rich is this guy?'

this arrangement continued for a few more weeks and then it turns into a constant routine for months. still never ordering anything order than a coffee, and leaving after.

one day, tobias abruptly stopped coming into the diner. and after a two-week hiatus, you figured he was likely not returning again.

you didn't realize how tedious work was without the old man's presence, you were still as busy as ever doing everyone's job, but now you didn't have the levity from your conversations.

it stayed like that for the following three months, no word from tobias. you wanted to contact him somewhere, but you began to realize how little you knew of him, hell you didn't even know his last name. he knew all the basics of what comprised you, but you couldn't even say his favorite color. and you’d known this man for almost a year.

but as it turned out, you didn't need to contact him yourself because a man came into the diner asking for you.

at first, you thought it was an unsatisfied customer here to berate you some more; it wouldn't be the first time. but you were more than relieved it was a guy you'd never seen before, a particularly handsome and well-fitted one.

you went up to the man and politely greeted him, asking how you could help him. he took you presence in when you appeared, looking up and down. it wasn't in a 'checking-you-out' type way, it was of an 'i'm judging what type of person you are' way. you felt scrutinized in your lousy diner girl uniform. it didn't help he was dressed pristinely from head to toe.

he finally spoke, "it's pertaining to my grandfather, tobias hawthorne."

you were piqued up at the mention of tobias, this was the first time you'd heard of his last name, but you didn't know any other tobias's so it must be him.

the man in front of you was one of his infamous grandsons he loved to chat about, although you weren't sure which one. but based on his stern and disciplined attitude, you'd place your bets on grayson. but just to be sure you asked.

"right, my name is grayson hawthorne." you called it. "unfortunately, my grandfather has recently passed. my family is in the middle of gathering everyone for the matter of the will, but all parties must be preset. my grandfather's law firm has informed me you are also mentioned in it."

your heart broke at the reveal of tobias passing. you knew him less than a year, but you still had formed a connection with him.

then the other portion of his statement dawned on you, he mentioned you in his will. why?

grayson seemed to have wanted to know this too. he said tobias mentioned you in passing but didn't offer details about your relationship. he didn't hide how he was suspecting and untrusting of you.

you filled him in on details of how you met, your meetings, and the last time you conversed with him. grayson was still wary of you, but he didn't have any reason yet to say you were lying.

he then urged you to gather your belongings because the two of you had to head over to his family's residence as soon as possible. he has already informed your boss of your leave of absence.

it was all so sudden, you were still processing all this information. grayson's insistence made it nearly impossible to do anything but listen.

so, grayson took you home to change and pack a few items. you left a note for your parents, letting them know you'd be spending a night or two at a friend's house. you knew if you explained what was really going on they would not let you go; they'd probably even scold you for befriending a random old man at work, calling you naive.

although, that had merit because you were currently off with a man you knew for like five seconds because you believed he was the grandson of a man who you also didn't know for too long.

you thought the chance of getting kidnapped was better than overworking at the diner.

you were astounded when grayson casually took you to the destination of his private jet. you'd never flown first class, let alone a private freaking jet.

you two took off, and a few hours later, arrived in texas. the moment you stepped off, a bodyguard guided the two of you into a limousine. from there, you sought off to the mansion.

when you arrived, you thought you'd been driven to some sort of fancy hotel, but not it was where grayson and the rest of the hawthorne lived. you'd likely get lost trying to go from the kitchen to your bedroom.

grayson had to physically drag you away from your jaw-dropped stare at the property.

when you entered the entrance hall , another girl was already there, an older girl with her as well.

she turned her attention toward you when she noticed you entering, she seemed to have recognized grayson, but had a questioning gaze toward you.

the older girl was the one to speak to you first. “and here i thought we’d already met everyone affiliated with this crazy rich family. hi, i’m libby and this is my sister avery. are you grayson’s girlfriend?”

you could’ve died from awkwardness right there. you didn’t even wanna take a glance at grayson’s reaction, you imagined he would have a look of discontent.

“er, no. we just met today actually. he came into my work saying i’m needed for a will reading, and next thing i know im off in a private jet and in this mansion.”

this time avery spoke up, “sorry about libby’s assumption. it was just because you guys came in together and he’s carrying your bag.”

grayson was in fact hold your small luggage bag. he taken the liberty of taking it out of the trunk of the limo and carried it since.

you didn’t say anything, you just snatched your bag out of grayson’s hands, mumbling a quiet thanks.

grayson let out a laugh, but covered it up as a cough.

avery talked about her situation being similar to yours, except she’s never met tobias hawthorne before. it made you feel better there was someone else who felt like an outsider.

you were led away by grayson, guiding you to the room the will was being read. but you ran into a numerous amount of people on the way.

first, it was xander, the youngest hawthorne grandson. he appeared out of secret passage, jump scaring you. then he introduced himself.

nash, who had a country accent, followed a bit after walking in with his mother skye. she asked you a few invading questions about yourself, and you replied cordially. very relieved when grayson excused you both.

finally, you’d met jameson on accident. you were on the way to the bathroom, using directions given to you, and that’s when you bumped into him. he was very obviously drunk. he slurred a few words, but you quickly excused yourself, not wanting to deal with whatever was going on with him.

once you were finally in the room, you took a seat next to avery since she and her sister were the best options.

finally the will reading began, and the lawyers started reciting its words and designated belongs and money to different family members. all the families were stunned that the grandsons, especially grayson, hadn't gotten the entire fortune. yours and averys names had yet to be mentioned.

"to my newfound friend y/n l/n, i leave conservatorship to the hawthorne foundation. the remainder of my estate, including all properties, monetary assets, and worldly possessions not otherwise specified, i leave it to be shared upon y/n l/n and avery kylie grambs."

nothing could have you prepared for that. you thought it was a prank at first, some sick joke rich people do that get less-than-fortunate people's hopes up. but no, the lawyer did indeed confirm it to be true.

avery and yourself turned toward each other wide-eyed, completely flabbergasted. then the whole room erupted into chaos, everyone standing up to demand an explanation, accusing you both of having done something.

you had just met these people, and you couldn't for sure say they were capable of murder, but you'd seen enough movies about the rich to know it's definitely a possibility.

luckily, oren, tobias' (now ex) bodyguard, stood in front of you girls, preventing the hawthornes from stepping any closer. he claimed he worked for you both now, so it was his job to protect you.

"should we trust this guy? what if he's just playing us to get the inheritance." avery whispered to you.

"a bodyguard with ulterior motives is better than being left to the wolves."

"good point." libby chimed in.

it didn't end there; there were conditions for the will, saying you and avery must remain at the hawthorne estate for a full year to receive the inheritance.

so not only did you become enemy number one toward most hawthornes, but now you had to live with all of them. lovely.

that jump-started your now future of being involved with the hawthornes (and the grambs sisters)

after the will fiasco, the grayson made it his mission to unmask whatever game you played to get the inheritance, but he always came up empty-handed because you, as you insisted to multiple hawthornes, did not manipulate tobias. you didn't even know the guy's last name until you had met grayson.

if you had a talent for taking advantage of rich men, you would not be wasting time being a waitress for a shitty diner.

however, you tried to look on the very bright side of things, living in a gorgeous mansion. your bedroom was the size of your home's first floor. you;'d never slept on a comfier or larger bed.

one thing that set you apart from avery in the will was that you had complete ownership in the hawthorne foundation and his involvement with different charities. alissa had informed you that you'd need to learn to manage it- designating which associations to donate to, how much, how often, etc.

it was overwhelming to think about; if you failed to be a conservator, it would be given to the grandsons. you also knew having authority over it bothered zara hawthorne, since she'd spent basically her whole life running it. you knew it you were to make a wrong move, she'd be quick to call it out you.

alissa had arranged for you to go to the foundation and meet with someone who'd help you navigate the ropes. a part of you assumed it'd be zara meeting you there, maybe forced by alissa to help you. but instead, it was grayson, who still thought you were some master con woman.

he was the only grandson that had an issue with you and avery, but for some reason, you were more suspicious to him. xander, jameson, and nash seemed to have adjusted to events and were now somewhat friends with you. it was pretty infuriating how grayson would not listen to reason, no matter how much you tried to make amends.

grayson remained professional, not wanting his personal feud to hinder the foundation's work. he started giving you a tour and explaining an overview of how things ran. it became easier for you to imagine yourself running it.

you stopped when you passed by various black and white photos hung up in midair. they'd been hung since the beginning of your tour, but you'd only truly taken notice just now.

"who took these? they're beautiful."

"i did."

'of course, you did' you thought. he seemed to be good at everything.

"can i have a copy of this one?" you pointed toward a photo to your left; it was of a couple dancing together in the rain, in front of the eiffel tower.

"why?"

"i'd always wanted to see the eiffel tower. plus, i just really like it." it was true. the photo was captured exquisitely, and going to paris had always been a goal of yours, along with traveling to different places in the world.

he didn't respond. grayson went up to the photograph and carefully unlatched it. he then turned to you and gestured for you to take it, "here, you can have it."

you were a little shocked he just gave it to you, but hundreds of photos were decorated throughout the building, so it probably didn't mean much just giving you one.

you took it in your hands gently and thanked him. you both then continued your tour into the conference room to discuss further management of the hawthorne foundation.

but unbeknownst to you, the photo you now owned was one of his favorites.

it became easier to get to know and warm up to grayson the more you visited the foundation, which you did quite often because you now that you had (or will have) conservatorship to the foundation, you wanted to ensure you knew everything involving it to ensure you'd continue its success.

you could now say the two of you were somewhat friends, but there still seemed to be a wall - built by grayson, between the two of you. likely from the lack of trust he still has toward you.

at times he'd look at you as if you were the enemy, and other times he'd treat you courteously. his constant mood changes were driving you crazy.

you had been staying up later than usual since your stay at the manor began. it didn't help that there was possibly a secret passage in your room like avery's has.

but your leading cause of distress stemmed from the mystery of the whole will situation. you'd gotten a small letter like everyone else, but it failed to offer any closure.

in fact, all it said was, "good luck". you'd never had the urge to strangle a dead old man til now.

however, this night you decided to walk outside. you'd been hesitant to wander around the mansion, but then again, you technically half owned it now, and nobody could really stop you. so you decided to go to the pool area, carefully avoiding alerting your new bodyguard of your movement.

when you got there, it was empty as you had hoped. the pool was illuminated with the lights, the area surrounding it was dimly lit.

you settled for solely dipping your feet in the pool and gazing at the stars upon the sky.

half an hour in, you heard the faint sound of someone possibly approaching. you took it as a sign to get back to your room before oren noticed, if he hadn't already.

you got up a bit too quickly, causing an imbalance in your step - leading you to stumble backward into the pool.

most people would simply swim back up to the top and pull themselves out, but you couldn't do that for one big reason. you never learned to swim.

panic began to seep into you as you flailed your arms all over the place, attempting to float to the top, but it only made you sink further. it didn't help drowning was on the top of your list of 'ways i would hate to die'.

you were midway through choking on the water when someone jumped into the pool and carried you back onto the pavement.

after coughing the water out of your lungs, you looked at the face your your savior kneeled in front of your; low and below there was grayson hawthorne - wearing nothing but swim shorts.

the sight of him shirtless made it harder to steady your breathing.

"are you alright?" you nodded in confirmation.

"what were you thinking getting into the pool so carelessly?"

"well, i just to test out my new waterproof mascara." you said sarcastically. "obviously i didn't end up in the stupid pool purposely!"

he rolled his eyes. “god, were you born a horrendous swimmer or just taught by an imbecile.”

you stayed silent, looking away from him, not wanting to admit the embarrassing truth.

“do you…do you not know how to swim?”

"….. define knowing to swim.”

he gave you an incredulous look, “seriously? even most 5-year-olds know how to swim, better yet, they wouldn’t almost drown in the 7ft part of the pool.”

“okay i get it! it’s pathetic i don’t know the basics of swimming. you don't have to be an asshole about it.” you stood up angrily in your soggy clothes and attempted to walk away - but grayson grabbed your wrist.

“wait. alright, i apologize for being quick to judge. if you want..i’ll teach you to swim.”

you were taken aback by the gesture, not quite sure what to think. on the one hand, it could be a plan to embarrass you further, but on the other hand - you really didn’t want to live your life not being able to swim any longer.

“alright.”

the following night he made good of his word when you went out to meet him. (oren being aware this time, after he warned you he'd lock you in your room if you snuck out without him again.)

this time you had proper swim attire, a 2 piece bikini alissa had purchased for you, along with others.

grayson was already in the pool when you arrived, swimming laps. once he noticed your arrival, he stepped out of the pool. you would've thought it was a scene from a movie from how smoothly & dreamy he moved.

you averted your eyes before you stared at his form too long.

you weren't sure if it was your imagination or you saw grayson do a double-take when he saw you.

all his attractiveness was shortly forgotten when he went to his bag to retrieve something, then handed you some plastic. it took you a moment, but then it clocked - these you arm floaties.

"you're joking right?"

"hey, after that near-drowning experience, it's better to be safe than sorry."

"it's like you want to humiliate me."

"don't worry i chose the ones with the flowers to enhance your matureness." he fought back a smile with his words.

he got a nasty glare in response.

still, you knocked down your pride on putting on the floaties before you and grayson submerged into the pool.

then grayson began reciting exercises and movements for you to do. after floating around for a bit, he instructed you to remove the floaties. you were obviously hesitant, the floaties were keeping you from drowning, but grayson insisted that you trust him.

he grabbed your waist with both hands and got behind you; that was enough to quicken your pulse.

his hands held you steady as you attempted to stay afloat by moving your arms and legs. it would get harder to focus when his hands moved up and down your back.

"okay, i'm gonna let you go now."

"ok. wait what-"

you were abruptly cut off because grayson immediately removed his hands, leaving you on your own. being caught off guard, you began a repeat of the night before, but this time attempting to swim correctly. regardless, you were still beginning to choke on water and sink down.

grayson swam back to your aid in an instant, holding you up above the water by the waist.

"shit- i'm sorry. i assumed your instincts would kick in if you had less reaction time."

"oh, because it worked so well yesterday."

"right, perhaps i should've given it more careful thought." he moved a hand to the side of your face, "are you sure you're okay?"

you nodded, unable to verbally respond. the tension in the air thickened as the two of you continued to stare to one another. for a brief moment, his gaze wandered to your lips, and you stopped breathing.

his face slowly leaned into yours. you didn't know what you'd do if he was going to kiss you - a big part of you was ready to kiss back and the other part told you i'd be a mistake if you did.

but the moment was interrupted by alissa, who was calling your name because she wanted to ho over tomorrow’s events with you.

you also knew, based on alissa's critical gaze, she'd seen what was about to possibly happen. she has already given you a fair amount of warning about getting involved with hawthornes.

grayson then pulled away, awkwardly bidding you farewell, saying he'd see you later before he made his way out of the pool.

since then, the brewing tension between the two of you grew. it didn't help you already see him quite a bit during the day, then alone at night. apparently, it was evident to everyone there was something happening because thea calligaris cornered you.

"the last girl who was with grayson ended up dead."

you were unsure what to believe after that, you really didn't trust thea, but didn't mean it couldn't be true. 'don't rich people always have some murderous secret?'

you couldn't help it, and brought up the topic to grayson, who went very still at the mention. he lashed out at you before walking away. you suppose that confirmed it.

he avoided you for a few days, even skipped out on swimming lessons, so you kept yourself busy with school and hanging with avery and xander; solving the still ongoing mystery of the will. which you'd lowkey given up on because riddles were not your forte.

you felt bad your question, but he didn’t need to act so harshly toward you. so, you weren’t going to talk to him until he approached you first.

a knock sounded in your room when you were getting ready for bed. however, it didn't come from the door but from behind a large painting.

'i swear if this house is haunted, i'm running back home'

you tried to remove the painting, but it was stuck to the wall. then you discover a small button hidden on its frame. against better judgment, you press it, making the painting and the wall behind it move forward and slide to the left.

you knew there were various passages, but having one in your own room kind of freaked you out.

behind the moving wall stood grayson. you screamed at first, only seeing a figure in the dark. but then grayson quickly stepped into the light and closer to you to put a hand over your mouth. you were relieved to see him and not someone who would possibly murder you.

he didn’t remove his hand, you gave him an expectant look.

“just hear me out, before you demand i leave. i came to apologize.”

you nodded, allowing him to continue. he sighed and pulled his hand away. then he opened up to you for the first time, telling you about a girl name emily laughlin.

he explained her condition, how both hom and jameson were involved with her, and how she died.

the more the story went on the more you felt bad for both brothers, especially grayson since it seemed it was still affecting him. you even felt for emily, obviously, she lacked something in her life to play 2 brothers.

“i'm not complaining, but why did you decide to tell me all this” the two of you at some point made your way onto your bed, sitting side by side each other

he humorlessly laughs, and looks directly at you. “to be honest, i’m not even sure. all i know is when i look into your eyes, i have this urge to tell bare my soul to you.”

deja vu to the pool incident, you both didn’t say anything, just looked at each other, slowly leaning your face closer.

you were ready to be interrupted again, stopping the act before it can happen. but there was none, and your lips were now an inch apart, and your heart was beating like you just ran a marathon.

“tell me to stop right now, or i’m afraid i won’t be able to hold myself back.”

you said nothing.

wasn't like he gave you much reaction time anyway because he kissed you a second later - like you were the last person he was ever going to kiss.

and oh boy, was it a good kiss.

even when he left your room later that night, after much kissing you were still reeling from the shock of it all.

you didn't know what it meant for the two of you - did he like you?, was it a one-time thing?, or did he kiss you as a way to forget emily?

you were only sure of one thing right now - you felt something toward grayson that crossed the friend zone.

the kiss was never brought up over the days; grayson and you continued to work together and swim at night together almost every other day. you weren't sure if you were relieved or offended he never mentioned it.

you swore he got flirter since the kiss - his hand brushing against yours, standing very close behind you when reviewing something for the foundation, hands wandering when helping you swim, even a subtle flirty remark here and there.

you confided in avery about the events. she was insistent on the fact grayson liked you, and that he didn't seem like the type of have a fling nor rebound.

you wanted to believe he liked you, but then you would hear thea's voice in your head, reminding you of emily, and how he isn't over her.

it was driving you mad, so you convinced yourself you were simply reading into things. you weren't.

it all came to a head at a charity event the both of you helped plan for the foundation. you'd wore a beautiful namebrand designer custom-made gown, the fanciest dress you ever adorned.

however, the whole night grayson ignored you and made it clear he was avoiding you. anytime you approached him he gave an excuse to the person he was talking to that he had to go somewhere. or if you tried making eye contact, he was quick to turn his head the other direction. you didn't know what his deal was.

when you took to the outside for a breather, you sensed the arrival of his presence.

you scoff, "so now you wanna talk to me or what?"

he didn't respond, which upset you more. so you opted to walk back into the ballroom, but grayson stopped you.

"anytime i look at you too long, i think of our kiss that night. then i have to hold myself back from doing it another time. and if i kiss you, i thin- no. i know i won't be able to help but fall for you."

you were again dumbfounded by such confession. a habit that seemed to always happen in the presence of grayson hawthrone.

"i don't mind."

"neither do i."

he crashed your lips together with his in a flash.

unlike the first one, the kiss was messy, and messy was never a way you thought you'd describe the pristine grayson hawthorne.

his hands made their way to your face keeping you close while his mouth was almost devouring your lips. you steadied yourself by holding onto his shoulders because you did not trust your wobbly knees to stand on their own.

you pulled away first, heavily breathing like the night you almost drowned. your mind was still hazy, unable to properly form a sentence to speak.

grayson hands stayed, caressing your face gently,

"you can have my entire being if it means i get to kiss you like that whenever."

you both didn't end up returning to the charity that night. not while your makeup was smudged and all your lipstick was transferred on grayson's face.

though it was never verbally official, the two of you were evidently more than friends at that point.

you didn't even need to tell anyone of your newfound relationship because you'd come to find out jameson had seen the two of you that night, and he would could never resist a gossip about grayson. so the information easily made its way throughout the entire hawthorne manor.

in relation, grayson fought jameson. unfortunately, you weren't allowed to watch the fight because grayson didn't want you to witness any violence. you were lowkey disappointed because you and avery were ready to place bets.

alissa also made sure to have a talk with you both regarding public appearances. she advised it was better to keep it private because everyone was still reeling from yours and avery's newfound inheritance, and this news could possibly do damage to your media reputation. plus, it was better if grayson was advertised as single.

you personally didn't mind, you weren't the biggest fan of pda when you had a thousand new eyes on you. and alissa's advice was wise since you were new to the whole being a public figure thing. and well, you both lived together anyway.

grayson was more hesitant to agree, but mostly for your benefit he listened to alissa.

it was fun in a way, acting platonic in public then kissing when you got to the mansion or even the limousine. it was like having a secret relationship.

whenever interviews tried to insinuate something, you learned how to shut it down after much lessons on pr. but grayson liked to leave sly comments; only the two of you could understand.

"yeah, y/n's quite well at exploring the mouth of new things."

"y/n and i have become very acquainted with each other."

"you could say i'm into women who sink instead of swim."

it made you wanna laugh and playfully hit him all the same.

what really made your relationship step into public light was when rumors about you and jameson dating started circling around.

a photo of the two of you had been taken getting out of a limo together then entering a building, where people rumored you had a 'date'. in reality, both of you were there to talk to skye hawthorne after she was removed from the hawthorne mansion.

grayson was less than happy about these rumors, and jameson not denying anything to the press to get a rise out of grayson, was making things worse.

so, in a grayson hawthorne manner - he took care of things himself. he bought out all of the press and made them debunk the stories.

then to be even more dramatic, the next time the two of you were out together, he made a whole show of kissing you. even going as far as dipping you down in his arms before the kiss - felt straight out of a cheesy romcom. you couldn't say you didn't enjoy it, though.

the paparazzi had a field day with those photos & the two of your the front page of gossip magazines for weeks. alissa was ready to explode after only finding out the two of you went public from the media.

being in a public relationship was harder than being in a secret one. there were somehow even more eyes on you, picking your relationship apart. they mostly targeted your flaws and even took digs at your old diner job. even a surge of online hate came at your direction.

even grayson couldn't buyout every magazine or person who had a negative thing to say about you, and trust that he very much tried to.

but being official in public also had great pros. now, grayson and you could go out on dates wherever without worrying about hiding and disguises.

you couldn't stay anywhere too far at first because of the 'stay in the house for a year' rule, but you had dates at all sorts of fancy places. even though you were technically a net-worth nigher than him,now, he always insisted on paying the bill. ever the gentleman.

grayson knew how to plan one himself. a personal favorite of yours had to be the picnic in a hot air balloon.

but once the year was up, the first place gray took you was to paris, which he knew was always your dream. paris now seemed like a mundane dream compared to all of the past year's events.

still, paris was absolutely incredible, and being there with your boyfriend made it better - and helpful because he was fluent in french while you barely passed the high school class with a B.

seeing the eiffel tower was the best part, it was even more amazing up close. standing there with grayson, the grays started to cloud, and small drizzles of water came down.

your bodyguard (one oren forcefully implanted) had advised you both to head to the car before it started pouring. you were ready to follow along, but gray tugged your sleeve, stopping your movement.

you gave him a questioning gaze, so he held out his hand, asking you to dance.

you laughed and accepted nonetheless, even when the rain started to pour in more. the two of you began a clumsy (on your part) waltz across the pavement. both of your faces filled with blissful smiles. to this day, it is a favorite memory of yours.

it was even better when grayson gifted you a photo of you two that day, one he asked the bodyguard to take. now, the picture was framed next to the one grayson had taken & grayson hung a copy of it at the hawthorne foundation.

since dating, grayson's insomnia has improved immensely. it mainly had to do with the fact you two frequently sleep in his bed together. he jokes your his personal nyquil.

it's true when they say he sleeps like a deadman, even has a tiny snore - though he keep denying it. but he has some sort of sixth sense that enables him to know when you leave the bed.

like for instance, you needed to use the bathroom one night, and the moment you got up from the bed - grayson is up and asking where you were going.

the swimming lessons were not forgotten - you two still had that nightly routine. but you weren't becoming a michael phelps anytime soon. not when most of your lessons involved more kissing than swimming.

but hey, at least you've moved past the need for floaties. because grayson just carries you himself if it's too deep for you to swim.

he loves to buy anything that reminds him of you. a jewelry piece that matches your eyes, a dress he thinks would look pretty on you, a shift from your favorite film/show/artist, or even an item you offhandedly mentioned you wanted. he'd have them wrapped and ready to give to you the next moment he saw you.

much to our surprise, grayson was also the clingy type. his love language was more gift-giving but doesn't mean he wasn't a bit touch-starved.

he revels in hugs, kisses, and intimate moments. he always wants to hold hands when you both are walking together. jameson and nash love to tease him on it.

he has as a domestic side to him. he helps you put on your coat or even sometimes makes you wear it, keeps you on the side of the sidewalk not near the street, carries your purse or shopping bags, and helping you slip on your heels and shoes.

overall, grayson hawthorne was nothing less of an amazing boyfriend. except when he sees eve for the first time.

you were in the office of the foundation looking over a few files when you saw tobias' name mentioned then initials at the bottom. 'T.T.H.'

"huh, i thought your grandfather didn't have middle name."

grayson looked over your shoulder, "oh, he didn't. at least not until had changed his legal name less than a year before his passing."

"what is it?"

"tatersall. quite peculiar right?"

you laughed to yourself. perhaps he was trying to set you up with her grandson after all.

@itzchanelx @marigold-morelli

#grayson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne fic #grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson hawthorne x female reader #the inheritance games #the hawthorne legacy #the final gambit #jameson hawthorne #avery grambs #x reader #reader imagine #reader insert #x female reader

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malevessel · 2 months

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This is going to be the fifth time we do it.

It all started a year or so ago. My brother asked me if I could take my nephew on a trip with me, because he and his wife couldn't, because they were working. It really wasn't something that made me happy. Don't get me wrong, I love my nephew, but I wanted to go on a road trip on a motorcycle and maybe fuck a girl somewhere without complications. Taking my 20-year-old nephew was not in my plans.

But, my surprise was great when my nephew, Sam, offered me days later to share work during the trip. I called him crazy, and I told him that I wasn't going to leave my job to him, but he insisted, besides, he would be the one to leave his body to me. Let's see if I liked the experience, this is the fifth time uncle and nephew have gone on a "trip."

But this time it was different. We met at my house, and my surprise was very great when my nephew showed up on a motorcycle. He told me that he wanted to surprise me, so he got his motorcycle license and even made my brother buy him a beautiful motorcycle.

The moment I took charge of his body, it didn't take long for me to dress for our trip. My motorcycle clothes fit him better than me, not a surprise since his body was better than mine.

The truth is that I couldn't contain my smile. We got going right away and I spent hours riding that crazy motorcycle, until we arrived at a roadside gas station. My nephew's young hormones took over, I was enjoying it.

That's why I leaned on the motorcycle while I tensed my new muscles, the sun caressed my young body and reflected in my sunglasses. The only thing brighter than my smile at that moment was the lustful gaze of the waitress at the gas station bar, who hadn't taken her eyes off me since I arrived. Yeah, this is what I fucking meant.

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bradshawsbitch · 1 year

Text

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎↠ 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 - ⅶ ↞

⁘ bradley bradshaw, the notoriously ill mannered head chef at the small franchise pub down the street, is quite content with his fast paced job. no commitments or obligations outside of his kingdom of sharp knives, pots, pans, prep work and a shot of jäger after a double. that is until a new waitress is hired, and suddenly his strict and rigid rules of no obligations or commitments starts to waver. . .

› pairing; bradley bradshaw x f!reader

word count; ~ 1.9K

× chapter warnings; swearing, banter

disclaimer; I am basing most of the chefs/waitresses on people I have worked with/encountered. Most of their traits will be as realistic as possible.

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“Heard you were coming for my job, eh, Cookie?”

Blue skies, chirping birds and a soft, warm breeze brought promises of a good day. The sun had risen high in the sky already, and it seemed as if the universe was smiling favorably upon you, lending you a hand in your plans with the sweltering heat.

It was odd, really, how quickly your plan had taken shape after Bradley had dropped you off yesterday. As you skipped happily into the shower - a soft, fuzzy feeling encompassing your body at the memory of Bradley’s lips upon yours - you knew that one step forward would most likely mean two steps back come morning.

The idea had taken shape as you pondered how to best tackle Bradley’s ever changing emotions and desires, with the simple answer that you wouldn’t. It was perfect, really. Deciding on forgoing your usual skinny black jeans, you opted instead for a black, skater lined skirt that cinched your waist and fell flatteringly just above your knees.

Angie had informed you that during hotter days, girls were allowed skirts, and the men were allowed shorts in the waiting staff. Pairing this with a short sleeved, simple black top with a little lower scoop neckline that you would usually wear to work.

And as you walked confidently into work, tube socks neatly styled in your sneakers, you could tell it was a hit by the low whistle Jake let out as he stood by the window. The mere sight of his position had you smirking. It was Mickey though, who had teasingly jibed you about taking his position.

“Yeah, better watch out Garcia, head chef said you plate like a five year old!”

Mickey’s eyes widened before he laughed heartily, your smile only widening as you turned your back on Jake and Bradley on the other side of the kitchen. Leaning on your palms against the window Mickey was in, a similar stance to how Bradley had greeted you, you bit your cheek to keep from laughing. You knew you were showing off quite a bit more skin than usual, and you could almost feel the two men behind you transfixed by the way your skirt swished against your bare thighs.

“Say, Cookie - did head chef say anything about your performance plating then?” Jake’s voice was but a drawl, and you heard the whip of a towel hit its mark as Jake yelped.

“Michelin. 5 stars, at least!” you turned to smirk at Jake, holding his seaglass gaze intently with yours, “ain’t that right, chef?” you didn’t look at Bradley, didn’t expect him to answer at all, just watching the realization wash over Jake’s features, a mischievous smirk forming on his lips as well. You knew he knew, knew that Seresin was down for what you were about to serve.

Jake let his eyes roam your body, completely unashamed, silence stretching between the two of you. Bradley had stopped moving in the background, and you could almost feel the static tension that had appeared in the room.

“So, Cookie… you’re looking extra sweet today,” Jake purred, the kind of voice he used on Mir when he wanted something. “Mind if I have a taste?” he licked his lips, the amount of mirth in his eyes not visible to Rooster, but all too evident to you. Bringing a hand to your chest, you feigned interest.

“Why don’t you meet me in the back room and fi–”

“Alright, fucking get back to work and stop having a fuckin’ orgy in the middle of the god damn kitchen,” Bradley’s voice boomed surprisingly loud, interrupting yours and Jakes’ banter. Biting your cheek, you finally let your gaze slide over to Bradley. His brown eyes were stormy as his chest rose and fell a bit faster than normal.

“Yes, Chef…” you said innocently, shrugging your shoulders before swiftly making yourself scarce.

Outside, you met up with Mir who complimented you on your cute outfit, before going through the days booked tables. It was looking to be quite the night, almost fully booked.

“Who’s head waiter today?” you mumbled as you scanned your station, taking in the intervals between their arrival.

“It’s Ange,” Mir sighed, clicking on one of her own tables to see their pre-ordered meals. “God, this table is a fucking mess. They’ve switched up so many things it’s making me dizzy. I just know Rooster’s gonna be a pain in my ass about it. As if I specifically told them to fuck with him personally,” the Gods were truly smiling down upon you today.

Your station wasn’t too bad, some of the tables were scheduled to arrive at the same time, but it was manageable. It was almost a relief when your whole station was fully booked, left no room for surprise drop-ins that fucked with the general work flow.

“Looks like it’s going to be an interesting evening. That table that had changed around the sides, they have any allergies?” Mir nodded solemnly, naming one of the allergies that you knew Bradley found rather tricky to be able to substitute, and still give off a well rounded and thought out taste palette. You could sing.

“Excellent. And that table’s fifteen people. Incredible.” Mir gave you a withering look “Oh shush, you know I’ll help you with the drinks if I have a moment. Doesn’t look like any of my booked tables are scheduled to arrive at that time,” clicking aimlessly around the booking table, Mir and you predicted how the night might look.

There was a new waiter and someone to manage the dish room during service, starting today. You’d seen John walking the two men around earlier, which made the two girls ponder how the night would go.

As the night progressed, it felt as if the stars were aligning in your favor. You were on track with everything, every table arrived with impeccable timing for you to have time to give your best service, whilst still helping Mir, and annoying Bradley.

You had danced in and out of the kitchen, smiling and talking only to Mickey and Jake - bringing them sneaky red bulls and other beverages. Jake had asked for a jug of water and Mickey for his beloved pepsi, which you’d happily given to them, before rushing out of the kitchen yelling ‘duty calls!’ when Rooster opened his mouth.

After the rush of Mir’s table, with a flurry of movement behind the bar as you helped her pour pint after pint and delivering it to the table, and hearing Bradley swear loud enough that you heard it in the front of the house (and also hearing Thea loudly telling him to shut the fuck up, he wasn’t meant to be heard by the guests) - you were pretty pleased as you stood in the closed down bar that was located where staff clocked in and out.

Sipping on the virgin drink Thea had taught you how to make, you were surprised to see a frazzled looking Rooster march out of the kitchen towards that same bar you were in. You didn’t move however, you just let a secret smile tug at the corners of your lips as they sought out the straw you held between your fingers.

“Cookie…” Bradley hummed roughly, moving behind you to fetch a jug. His large palm felt warm on your lower back as he moved to scoop up copious amounts of ice into it. You could almost feel the sigh he let out before he moved to stand by the soda gun, one hand moving upwards to rub at his face as he started pouring his preferred beverage.

“Having good service today, Roos?” you chirped, eyes twinkling with mischief as you swayed slowly, twisting your body back and forth, making your skirt swish softly against your thighs.

“No,” Bradley grumbled as he finally looked at you, damp curls already peaking out here and there under his hat “it’s a fucking mess in there.” he gestured vaguely to the kitchen. You knew that. The reason you were able to take a breather was solely because the food wasn’t coming out, and there was nothing for you to do but wait for Jake and Bradley to get their shit together.

“Had to go out for a minute.” Bradley rasped, causing you to raise your brows “I might have smashed a plate when Jake told me the sauce would be five minutes. Mickey took the grill for me.” blinking slowly, you bit your lip so hard you were afraid you’d draw blood to keep from laughing at his slightly abashed look.

“It’s okay, Bambi, you can laugh,” he groaned, chuckling softly under his breath as you let out the loud laugh you’d been dying to release. He took in your form then, your head tilted back slightly as you radiated happiness. He let his gaze roam over your form, not unlike Jake had done earlier, taking in how soft your skin looked, and how much of it he was seeing for the first time.

“What’s your poison?” nodding to the pink-tinged liquid in your glass. As your laughter calmed down, you swirled the ice cubes around slowly “Something Thea made me when I first started… just, roses lime and uhh sprite and–”

“Grenadine.”

“Exactly. You know it?” you knew you weren’t as knowledgeable about drinks and alcoholic beverages as you should be, and you knew you’d invited Bradley to land a pretty solid reprimand at you for being naive. His brows only furrowed as he averted his gaze, staying silent for a moment, letting the jug fill before answering.

“Yeah, my mother used to make it for me when I was younger. She waitressed here… sometimes she’d have me tag along. Couldn’t find a sitter most of the time.” the revelation had your brows shooting up as Bradley shrugged, looking at the drink in your hand again.

“She did?” it was an unintelligent answer, but you were much too surprised to offer anything more eloquent - surprised she worked here, even more surprised that Bradley would tell you. Rooster nodded slowly before gesturing to the upper floor

“Used to have a mattress in the common room upstairs where I’d sleep if she had to work closing hours. She usually tried to get the morning shifts though,”

“No kidding…” your reply was breathless. You desperately wanted to know more, but figured this was not the time nor the place to delve too deeply into that story. Bradley smiled softly at you, not yet moving to leave from behind the bar.

“Well, unlike you, I have a job to do,” you teased finally as you finished your drink. Bradley’s mouth fell open, a look of surprised offense on his features “but if I hear one more person wave their hand and say ‘yoohoo!’ I might actually kill myself…” you grumbled as you saw a guest that wasn’t on your station waving at you.

The sound of Bradley’s laughter rang in your ears well after you’d helped the guest that hailed you. Two heads snapped up in surprise, their eyes meeting with equally shocked expressions at the sight of their head chef booming with laughter - watching you walk away from him.

Thea and Mir both wore looks of concern as they glanced between your sweet and satisfied smile, and Roosters twinkling eyes as amber eyes roamed your form for a moment before he shook his head, heading back into the kitchen.

next chapter

aight folks! sorry this one took a while and it's a little on the shorter side, I sort of hit a little block, and I was going to keep writing, but it felt better for me to start the next sort of scene I have planned out in the next chapter!

hope y'all liked it still if you still remember this dumb series lmaaao

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #rooster x you #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw fanfic #mise en place series #my writing

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slafkovskys · 5 months

Note

i’m not sure if you have anything that plays with the grumpy x sunshine fort f thing but all i can picture is jamie not even being against his sister and mact (because i can’t picture jamie with a bad bone in his body) but rather he’s just worried about how different they are?

like mact is just this confident, kinda stoic man, and his sister is like sunshine (sometimes feisty sunshine) embodied and he’s just concerned

and then he sees them together and he’s like “oooh. maybe this will work.”

-🎪

jamie drysdale has had to see mason mctavish a lot that summer.

don’t get him wrong, mason was a friend. a teammate. he had a lot of respect for the guy and would never utter a bad word about him, but he often wondered why he had to choose his sister.

they wouldn’t tell him when they got together, but he knew it happened some point during the season because by the time they returned to canada for the summer, the two were inseparable. mason had pretty much taken up permanent residence at his parents house (seriously, the guy got mail there the other day) and now had his own mug in the cupboard. jamie wanted to ask if his own mother missed him, but he refrained.

he just doesn’t understand why-

he hears the heavy sound of the wooden gate slamming shut and he watches as- oh? he watches as a smile tugs at the corner of mason’s lips as his younger sister makes his way up the stairs. mason pushes his chair away from the table, eyes twinkling in the fairy lights as she enthusiastically waves her hands, “sorry i’m late. we got slammed right before i was supposed to leave, so i had to take an extra table.”

“not like we were waiting for the birthday girl to be here to blow out the candles on her cake or anything,” carly teases the girl who not-so-subtly flips up her middle finger at her blonde best friend.

she wraps her arms around mason, pushing herself up on her converse clad feet to press a quick kiss to his lips before tucking herself into his chest, “what did i miss?”

“nothing much. like carly said, couldn’t really start without you,” he teases gently. he presses a quick kiss to her temple when she turns to thank someone for coming, still wrapped tightly around his body, “have you eaten?”

“i had lunch and ray made me some cheese fries before i left,” she hums. ray, a cook at her summer waitressing job who was old enough to be her father, always made sure everyone ate no matter what. mason hadn’t been thrilled at the idea of her picking a shift on her birthday, but she insisted on how good her tips would be as she clipped the birthday girl ribbon to the tank top with the restaurant's logo plastered on the front. that tank top was hidden now, covered along with the bike shorts by a too big team canada hoodie that (based on the number on the arm) could only belong to one guy. she pokes at his chest, “plus, i was promised by both my brother and my boyfriend that i would have the cook out of my dreams.”

“food’s in the kitchen, princess gets first dibs,” jamie raises his drink to the girl, “happy birthday.”

“thank you, jay. seriously, but i want to sit down for like five minutes first. everyone else can go ahead, but you better save me a hamburger!” she calls as their friends trample in through the open patio door. she allows herself to be pulled down on mason’s lap with a sigh, “i lied, i don’t know if i can get up now. you’re comfy.”

“guess i’ll just have to carry you around for the rest of the night, hm?” mason’s tone is teasing as his fingers drum at her thigh.

“i definitely wouldn’t object to that.”

and that’s when it clicks for jamie, when it’s just the three of them out there and he’s a silent witness to their conversation. while she loved people and enjoyed being a light, mason just tolerated everyone except for her and it was obvious in his actions. how attentive he was, how he looked for her in every room, how he was always attached to her like a magnet.

they may be opposites, but they were made for each other.

#mason mctavish #macxdrysdale!sister

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austinsmutler · 11 months

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hii ,I heard requests are currently open and wondering if you could please pretty please write a masterpiece of a sleepover with virgin!elvis and his girl bff who he has a crush on and not too long hes found masturbating then it turns into a steamy ass night I guess? if you’re not comfy writing it, totally alright! love u and ur work, literally breathe and live on it😭🙏🤭♥️

Anon, are you trying to appeal to my ego? It’s working. I’m loving, living, and breathing from this idea! You know me, I love a bad boy EP, so this is my first take on virgin!Elvis. I’d love to write more, and I LOVE me some friends-to-lovers. And don’t get me STARTED on best friend!Elvis, good lord. The pining. The yearning. The increasing desperation all boiling over… have mercy.

Anyway, hope ya like this one!

Young Dreams - Virgin!Elvis x Reader - 3,600 Words

What you’ll like: Virgin!Elvis, Best friend Elvis who is absolutely weak for you, cute smut

Warnings: Sex, Elvis and reader are both inexperienced, but there's no pain because in this house we practice foreplay. Minors DNI.

Masterlist | Requests are currently open (Currently writing for Elvis, Austin!Elvis, and Eddie Munson)

“What do you mean no-one’s home this weekend?” Elvis sounded worried. Your fingers played with the phone cord, not sure how to console him.

“I’ll be fine. My folks needed a break, so they’re staying with Grandma on the coast for a few days. It’s only a few hours away- I’ll be fine.”

“Hmm.” Elvis hummed on the other end of the line. “I’ll be over in ten minutes.”

“Elvis!”

“Alright, five minutes.”

You laughed until the other end of the line went dead. He can’t be serious, can he?

You’d known Elvis your entire life, ever since he’d moved onto the house at the end of the street. You walked home from school every day together, and now that high school was over and you had a job waitressing on the edge of town, he drove you to and from work every day. He said it wasn’t a problem because he drove in and out of Memphis for his own work, but the little diner was on the complete wrong side of town. Still, it meant you stayed close, even after graduation.

You sat on the living room windowsill. The rest of the house felt intimidating, big without your parents to fill it. Elvis knew you didn’t like being home alone, but what was he going to do about it?

A knock at the door interrupted your thoughts. You looked at the clock and bit back a smile. Exactly two minutes and thirty seconds since he hung up the phone.

“You’re late.” You said, crossing your arms in the doorframe.

“I had to pack.” Elvis grinned and held up a bag. “Can’t wear the same clothes all weekend, can I?”

You rolled your eyes with a smile and stepped aside to let him in. Old Mrs Cranston was on her front porch, scowling from her rocking chair with a look that said, Your Momma will hear about this.

You fought the urge to stick your tongue out as you closed the door. Your parents had let Elvis stay over before- granted, you were kids then, but nothing had changed between the two of you since. You were just friends. If there were any feelings between the two of you, they were buried deep; the most private treasure, never to be unearthed.

Elvis had already made himself at home, leaning the bag beside the couch and turning on the radio, quickly tuning into Sam Phillips’ station.

“B.B. King.” Elvis whistled.

“Everyday I have the blues.” You named the track without thinking, and Elvis smiled. Music was the first love you shared, and you both sang along to the tune.

Ooh everyday,

Everyday,

I have the blues

When you see me worryin' baby,

Yeah, It's you

I hate to lose

Elvis’ voice was deep and soulful, honed from years of singing along to the choir every Sunday. You took a seat on the couch beside him as the next song played and he didn’t even pause for breath. Big Boy Crudup.

“That’s alright Mama, that’s alright with you…” He stood up to dance, taking on a completely different persona to the one he held when you sang together. His pretty features screwed together as Elvis sang with an attitude. “That’s alright, any way you do…”

You bit your lip as he lost himself in the music. Was he putting on this performance for you, or for himself? Maybe both. You’d listened to music together hundreds of times- at your home, at his, in his truck, in diners and at the movies. Every time he made it feel like an intimate experience, stirring something inside you weren’t sure you should feel.

“You’re good at that, you know.” You said as the song ended, hoping the heat on your cheeks wasn’t noticeable.

“What?” Elvis sat beside you, not even out of breath.

“Singing. Moving.” You smiled. “Remember that talent show when we were thirteen? You got first place.”

“I sang Old Shep.” He chuckled. “And you did that little dance, in the pink dress.”

“I can’t believe you remember that!” You slapped his arm. “Dunno what I was thinking, I’ve never been able to move. My feet get confused.”

“I liked it.” Elvis cleared his throat. “I like seeing you dance.”

If you weren’t blushing before, you were now. “Thanks, but I’ll pass on that.”

Another rock song came on the radio and Elvis stood again, feet already wiggling as he extended a hand. “C’mon, it’s easy.”

You shook your head, hugging yourself. “I’m fine right here.”

“Nah.” Elvis pulled you up with one almighty tug on your arms, pulling you into him. You weren’t so close that someone watching through the window would get the wrong idea, but you could still feel the heat radiating from his body, feel the strength in every motion as he moved. “Just feel the music and let it move you. Don’t think.”

You tried, and nearly tripped over your own feet before he caught you. Both of you broke into laughter at your awkward movements, but by the end of the song something loosened up. Were you a good dancer? Absolutely not. Next to Elvis you were even worse, but that didn’t matter.

Every time he grinned over at you, a little bit of that self-consciousness melted away until you were spinning in time to the music, so hard your poodle skirt lifted to show a flash of the underskirt beneath with every movement. It was the most delicious kind of dancing- free and fun, and certainly not allowed at school dances.

The room seemed to heat up, sweltering by the end of the song. Both your chests heaved with heavy breaths and you fanned yourself as you and Elvis stopped, staring at each other.

His blue eyes were dark, mouth open slightly as he looked at you. You’d seen that look before. Usually it was just a flash, when you laughed in the back of his truck, when he picked you up from work, when you listened to a brand new record together. This wasn’t a flash- this was written all over his face. Hunger.

“I should, uh…” You gulped. “It’s getting late, I’m gonna make dinner. Momma left me some things to reheat in the fridge, that okay?”

Elvis blinked and the look was gone. “Sure.”

He didn’t follow you into the kitchen, and you couldn’t tell if you were relieved or not. There had always been space between you, but it was always full of something. That look…

You shook your head, smiling to yourself as you put two dishes of leftovers into the oven and set it to a low heat, along with a kitchen timer for ten minutes.

Sweat started to creep onto your skin, and you tried to shake away all the thoughts of Elvis, the molten look in his eyes, the way his jaw flexed as his eyes trailed down to the bust of your dress…

You needed to cool down, you decided, heading to the bathroom.

Only to open the door and be greeted to the sight of Elvis leaning against the sink, eyes closed and head tilted back, lips murmuring your name as his hand moved frantically over his-

You slammed the door with a yelp.

“Sorry!” You headed back to the kitchen, blood rushing to your face. Had you really just walked in on him touching himself?

He was whispering your name. He was whispering your name, and touching himself.

Elvis stumbled into the hallway, safely tucked into his pants. You tried to keep your eyes on his face and not on the obvious tent in his jeans. His face was just as red as yours must have been as he stuttered,

“M’sorry, you- you weren’t supposed to see that- I wasn’t-”

Your eyes flicked down, then to his face, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, I was-” He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I won’t- god, I don’t even know what to say.”

“Were you thinking about me?” You asked, ignoring the way your voice wavered.

Elvis froze, before his eyes finally met yours and he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I was.”

“You do that often?”

The look on his face told you all you needed to know. He shrank back as you walked up to him, hands shaking at your sides. Suddenly all those looks, all those flashes of hunger were making sense.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen. It- it won’t happen again, I’m sor-”

Elvis was cut off as your hands wrapped around his head and pulled him down for a searing kiss. He froze again, before a moan rumbled up from deep in his throat and he grabbed at your lower back, pulling you against his hardness.

You devoured each other’s lips until there was no more oxygen in your lungs and you had to break apart or pass out.

“Why did you never say anything?” You breathed against his lips. Elvis licked at your bottom lip, humming another kiss into you before responding.

“I never thought you’d feel the same.”

Shock pulled your jaw to the floor. You weren’t sure whether to slap the man or kiss him again, but you decided on the latter. “I’ve never felt anything for anyone but you.”

Elvis growled and spun you around so you were against the wall, his hands on your waist, his tongue on your neck devouring every inch of exposed skin. The only thing in the world was the heat radiating from his body, dancing with yours. He lifted you up and your legs wrapped around him instinctively, the sudden contact of his hand on your bare thigh pulling a moan from your throat.

When Elvis pulled back to look at you his eyes were wild and raw. He ground against you, holding you in place against the wall as he moved. He rubbed against just the right place and heat shot through your body, releasing a sound you’d never made before, echoing up from your core to the tip of your tongue.

“That good?” Elvis asked and you nodded against him. He hit the same spot again, and again, grinding hard through your clothes until your entire body shook and you were sure you were about to die, or explode, or-

A sharp ringing cut through your moans. Damn timer.

“D-dinner.” You gasped. “Elvis, I- it’s in the oven…”

Elvis reluctantly put you down and you stumbled over to turn off the heat.

When you turned back to look at him, he was flushed, black hair messy from your fingers running through it, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them now that you were out of arm’s reach.

His dark eyes met yours and he stuttered out, “I’ve- I’ve never… Never done anything before. With anybody.”

You froze. “Not even with Dixie?”

He shook his head. “We only went to prom. She wound up dancing with Reggie from her band practice, and he took her home. That’s why I spent most of that night third-wheeling with you.”

You nodded, remembering the night. You’d been surprised when Elvis told you he’d found a date, but then a guy from the football team had asked you out and you’d reluctantly said yes.

Turned out he’d just wanted to get close to one of your friends. By the time Elvis came over, you were a third wheel on your own date. The only redeeming part of prom was driving home with him and listening to Fats Domino.

“I should’ve asked you.” He spoke, voice soft. “I was scared.”

“I would’ve said yes.” You swallowed. “I’m saying yes now.”

Elvis tilted his head. “To what?”

You closed the distance between the two of you, pressing your lips to his. “Everything. Anything.”

You bit back everything else, all the thoughts suddenly floating to the tip of your tongue: I’ve always wanted you. I want everything you have to give me. I don’t even know how long I’ve wanted you, but you’re under my skin and I want you deeper.

Elvis hummed into your mouth, picking you up again and placing you on the table. Dinner was left forgotten on the countertop as he devoured your lips, then your neck, then lower to nip at your neckline.

“Elvis,” You whimpered, “Wait.”

He stopped immediately to look at you. “Is this alright?”

“I don’t want to… not here.” You bit your lip. “Let’s go to my room.”

Elvis’ eyes widened, then went so dark they were practically black as he understood. He helped you off the table, but you led him up the stairs on shaky legs. The whole thing felt like a dream- a good dream- but the warmth of his hand in yours grounded you to reality.

Elvis was your best friend. He’d been in your room before, but suddenly the space felt smaller; more intimate. You lay back on the pale pink sheets, watching as he drew the curtains, shrouding the room in half-light.

He paused and looked at you, eyes trailing from your face all down the length of your body.

“I’ve never seen someone so beautiful.”

“Come kiss me.” You smiled, ignoring the nerves fluttering in your stomach.

Elvis lay beside you, cradling your face in his hands before tracing his way down to the zip at the back of your dress, where he stopped again.

“What is it?”

“I have no idea what I’m doing.” He smiled, avoiding your eyes with a shy smile.

“Neither do I.” You reached behind yourself to pull the zip of your dress down, tugging at the top to reveal your bra. Elvis reached out with a shaking hand and you closed the gap, sighing as his fingers pulled you in.

“We’ll figure it out together.”

Your confidence brought a smile to Elvis’ face- a crooked, curled-lip smile that melted everything else away.

Your hands shook as you unbuttoned his shirt, peeling the army green away to reveal a body tanned from the summer and toned from years of hard work. You’d seen Elvis shirtless before- summer heat waves meant swimming down at the creek- but this was different. Slower. Your eyes could linger, hands touch every muscle, drawing ragged breaths from the back of his throat.

Elvis breathed your name as you tugged the rest of your dress away, leaving you in just your underwear.

Then you were flush together, tasting every inch of skin. Frantic. Like you’d been waiting all your lives for this moment, and now that it was here it could all be over in a flash. Elvis hissed as your fingernails dug into his back, pulling him closer to you.

“I want you. I need you.” Elvis panted, biting back more words- as if a mountain of confessions was stacked up in his chest, making it hard to breathe. “Baby, tell me what you need me to do.”

You took Elvis’ hand and guided him beneath your underwear, showing him exactly where to touch. You both groaned as his finger pressed on your clit, rubbing softly at first, then hard. You cried out at the sensation, before Elvis pulled away to loop his fingers through the elastic of your panties.

“I need to see you. Please.”

At your nod, he took off your underwear and you made quick work of your bra, leaving you completely bare for him. His cock twitched in his pants at the sight of you, wet, gleaming, ready for him.

“How… how far do you want to go?” His eyes flicked up to yours.

“I need you in any way I can have you.” You replied.

He frowned. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” You smiled, and he was on you again, between your legs, thrusting against you through his pants. You pulled his lips down to meet yours, grinding hard together.

“Wait,” He panted, stopping your hand from undoing the button. “Just… slowly.”

He pulled back to look at you again. “I want to take my time with you. What this is… I want it to be special.”

You moved your hands to stroke the hair back from where it had fallen in his face. “Okay. Slow.”

The heat between your legs begged for more, and Elvis didn’t complain when you wrapped your thighs around him, moving your hips to meet his every thrust. Every brush against your clit had the heat pooling deeper at your core until you were throbbing, body begging for him inside you.

Elvis was listening, learning, and every time you moaned he repeated his movement, smirking against your neck when your sounds started getting louder and louder.

“Do I make you feel good?”

“Yes,” You panted, “Please, Elvis, I need- I need-”

He pulled back at the desperation in your voice, so new and exciting. He didn’t wait for you to finish your sentence before pulling his pants and underwear away in one swift motion, stopping to pick a condom from the wallet in his pants. You looked at him questioningly.

“They were handing them out at school, I never thought I’d use one.” Elvis chuckled, pink rushing to his cheeks. “I mean, one day, but-”

“Hurry up and put it on.” You grinned.

You’d seen a flash of Elvis’ cock just once before, earlier that night, when you’d walked in on him and started this whole thing. But now it was in full view, almost intimidatingly big as he stroked himself with practiced ease before slipping on the condom.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to-”

“Please.” You were begging out loud now. “Don’t make me wait any more.”

Elvis grinned and lay between your legs, letting you adjust your hips. He sank into you slowly, as if he was waiting for a sign, for you to change your mind, or some divine intervention that never came.

You sighed as he bottomed out, rolling your hips after a moment of stillness. Elvis took that as his cue to start moving. Every slow roll of his hips brought you closer to something you’d only ever given yourself.

You’d expected sex to hurt, or at the very least be uncomfortable. That was what you’d been warned about your whole life. Yet, as Elvis moved, the only thing you could think of was the feeling, his cock inside you, and the desperate need for more.

“You okay?” He murmured, kissing your forehead.

“Yes,” you hissed with pleasure as he rolled his hips again. “You feel so good.”

Elvis shifted so his weight was on one arm, allowing the other to roam every curve of your body, from your hip to your breast, brushing over your nipple. You’d never felt safer, or more loved, and the feeling had you clenching around him. Elvis groaned and repeated the action before lowering his head to swirl his tongue around your breast, shuddering as sinful sounds echoed from your lips.

“So soft,” Elvis breathed, squeezing your hip, running a hand down your thigh, starting to move faster. “My beautiful girl.”

“Elvis,” You squeezed your eyes shut as his hand found your clit again, applying pressure exactly as you’d shown him earlier.

He kissed your eyelids. “C’mon baby, show me those pretty eyes.”

You shook your head, tugging him down for a kiss and keeping him there, clinging desperately as his hips sped up, pulling a cry from deep in your throat.

Elvis was everywhere- hot lips on your neck, cool breath in your ear, arms on either side of your head, shielding you from the rest of the world. Everything that wasn’t him, you, now.

The orgasm hit out of nowhere. One moment you were focused on the pleasure of him pounding into you, the next you were crying out. Your nails dug into his back, legs tightening around his pelvis, trying to get him impossibly deeper.

The sensation pulled Elvis over the edge with you. His cock pulsed with his release as you both moaned out in raw pleasure before Elvis collapsed on top of you. You held him there, stroking his hair as you both came back down to earth.

“You’re trembling,” you murmured.

“I’ll be alright.” He placed a kiss to your collarbone. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You shook your head. “Elvis, it was perfect.”

A slow smile spread over his face as he lay his head on your chest, humming appreciatively. “So does this mean if I asked you on a date, you’d say yes?”

You snorted. “I think this means if you asked me to marry you, I’d say yes.”

“How’s next week sound?”

Your heart fluttered. “Saturday at two?”

“I’ll have my momma call the church.” Elvis chuckled, rolling and pulling you on top of him. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You bit your lip as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. After years of being so close, it was rare to see something new from Elvis, but this was. The satisfied glaze in his eyes, the easygoing smile, hair mussed in all directions, the faint sweat that covered both your bodies.

He was gorgeous.

“What’re you looking at me like that for?” Elvis smiled wider.

“I’m thinking, I’m the only one who’s ever seen you like this.” You caressed his cheek and he leaned into the touch with a kiss to your wrist. “I like it.”

“You’re the only one who’ll ever see me like this, baby. That’s a promise.”

#austin!elvis x reader #elvis x reader #austin!elvis x y/n #austin!elvis imagine #elvis imagine #elvis fanfic #austin!elvis smut #elvis smut #elvis fanfiction #elvis x oc

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mingiswow · 3 months

Text

Chapter 02

CW: mentions of anxiety, depression, and social anxiety, commentary on the industry, Hyunjin being a menace to Jisung, political commentary (?)

a/n: thank you so much for everyone who read the last chapter and for everyone's feedback. As always, taglist is open, feedback is appreciated, English is not my first language so sorry if there are any mistakes.

Y/N's POV

“A what?” I asked, unbelieving of my company’s director’s words, my voice cracking mid-sentence like a teenager.

After finishing my recording, me and Jiah went straight back to the company for the meeting with the director as scheduled. I was expecting anything but that.

“I know this is something new, but the government is studying to change a few things in the industry. And that includes things related to the idols’ image” the man said, unfazed by the idea.

Choi Hyunjae, the company’s director and founder, was a young man with a young mind. He founded the company as only a producing company. He wanted to create music with intent, with meaning. After a while, he decided to release a few artists under the company’s name, none of them in the K-pop industry. Not that they weren’t good, quite the opposite, it’s just that the industry wasn’t their goal, it never was. These artists, just like me and Hyunjae, wanted to put their art into the world while still being themselves.

Director Choi was the one who contacted me first, I was losing my hope of working in music back then, already getting a job at a local gimbap restaurant as a waitress. But one day he recognized me and asked if I wanted to work for him, just as a lyricist and producer. “If you don’t want to go back to stages that’s up to you, I just think is a shame the world to lose such an amazing writer as you, your lyrics are emotionally raw and I know a lot of people enjoy your music” was what he said to me back then, leaving me with a few days to think about and decide.

After signing the contract with his company, I worked for months writing and producing, but even though I loved doing that, I missed the chaos, the buzzing, the screams, the thrill of being on stage, the lights on you as you pour your heart out. So eventually I went back to doing my thing.

“But don’t you think a PR relationship is a step too big?” it was Jiah’s turn to speak, her voice calm, but I knew she was as lost as me. “Why this sudden change in the business model? This feels a little bit like a trap”.

“With the rising pressure of the US in the country and the recent break of the political and commercial alliance with China, the minister thinks is better to try to change a little bit” the man spoke again, his relaxed state showing he seemed rather stoked with the idea. “According to the minister, and I have to agree with the old man here, if they are going to keep focusing on the international market, they need to change the international view on our rules” he took a sip of his coffee, and leaned on his table, hands crossing. “The regular public already has a rather romanticized vision of our artists, but we need to prove we are like this, especially with the number of foreigners coming to the country”.

“But isn’t that even more unfair? These girls come here expecting something they won’t have” I spoke, that I was the worst part of my job, being part of this scheme, of this play-pretend. “And I get K-pop is dated and the fans are even more aware of the industry, but why not start with something simple like letting us be ourselves? And most importantly, why me?”

“Because you are our little chain-breaker, the odd one, and because the fuzz with Lee Ryuk gave them the perfect opportunity to test it out. That is, if you want to, I won’t force you to do anything” Director Choi smiled.

“Let’s say I accept the deal,” I said, my hands getting sweaty with anxiety once again that day, “what will I get with this?”

“Who will be her boyfriend?” that was a very good question. Who would accept this suicide mission?

Considering this could majorly affect anyone’s career, the most I’d get would be probably an idol from a small nugu group, or a small soloist. And even then, I would already consider myself lucky if anyone accepted this. I saw what happened before, idols being kicked out of their groups, and if not, having their so-called fans demanding their expulsion, sending death threats, giving black oceans at concerts. It wasn’t an easy change. It was something that needed to be done with time, little by little. Yet, that change was being given to me, put on my lap. I had the power to, at least try, to change the industry I was in.

“Once you accept, we will have two weeks to collect candidates” Hyunjae spoke. “You both would also get even more security, trained soldiers from the actual army, as well as psychological support”.

“Psychological support? They really are trying to change things up” Jiah sounded a little ironic.

“Actually, that was something I asked for, I won’t risk the mental well-being of my artist or anyone else”.

“Of course it was you, the government would never care about us” I rolled my eyes, arms crossing on top of my chest.

“I know it’s scary, but just know I’ll be here with you throughout all of this” director Choi squeezed my forearm gently, a soft smile on his lips. “And, again, you don’t need to accept. It’s up to you. I‘ll give you a few days to think if you need it, ok? Talk to your therapist, talk to Jiah, your friends, take your time”.

I simply nodded not knowing how to act or even respond. I took a deep breath. What did I want? I didn’t know. To be honest, I was very scared of the idea, it was a big commitment, not only for me, or the company, but also for the entire industry and the future of it. What if even with the psychological support I couldn’t handle it? What if the person was even worse than Ryuk? What if no one signed for it? There were so many questions in my head.

The whole ordeal scared me more than I expected, and how wouldn’t it? When I entered the doors of the company I expected everything but that. Deep down I wished I had only to write a stupid handwritten note apologizing and saying that me and Ryuk were only good friends. But to sign a PR relationship contract was never in my mind.

“Again YN, you have complete freedom to say no. Now go home and rest, Jiah and I cleared your schedule” the man got up from his chair, and I followed his gesture. He held me gently by my shoulders. “You know you are our little kid here in the company and I see you as my own kid. That being said, I would never put you in something I feel like it would be bad for you” I nodded as he hugged me. “Now go, I have to deal with a fucking plagiarism again, seem like that company loves our music, doesn’t it?” I giggled knowing exactly what he was talking about.

Me and Jiah left the building and went straight to our apartment, even after years we still lived together. Not only did it cut costs on our living, but also was very convenient. But also because I hated living alone.

The ride to our apartment was quiet, the radio playing some soft tune that I didn’t care to recognize, while the radio in my brain kept playing the director’s words over and over again. Sometimes the radio turned into a theater and started to play my most anxious thoughts. I tried to close the curtains, but it was hard, my apocalyptic thoughts taking over.

What if? what if? WHAT IF? WHAT IF? WHAT IF?

“I know that head of yours is already full of bullshit” it was the first words that came out of JIah’s mouth as soon as we entered the apartment. She knew me so well. “Go straight to the bathroom, make yourself a warm bath with the most relaxing bath bombs and bath salts you can find, put on that playlist that quiets down your brain, and while that I’ll make us a delicious lunch, okay?”

“Yes, mom” even with the irony in my tone, I was already taking my clothes off and grabbing my speaker.

Han’s POV

The people on the street already started to leave the establishments, feet stumbling, too drunk for their own good. The doors closing and leaving only the workers inside, the lights lighting the dark starless night sky as I watched Seoul slowly starting to go to sleep as I envied them, their simple, normal, and seemly easy life.

I loved comeback season as much as I hated it. I loved the creative part, the writing, the recording, the producing, the practicing with the boys. I loved all of this. I like that even on the hardest days we manage to have fun with each other. This was the fun part.

What I hated the most was the public presentations, the pressure of doing everything perfectly, the nerve of having to remember the lyrics and dance moves and maintain myself calm, having to deal with the swarm of people and camera flashes and sasaengs and still smile like nothing affected my mental state. Not to mention having to interact with some people as fake as their nose bridges and waists, and sometimes people that I admired. Like today, when I almost made a fool out of myself in front of one of my absolute role models.

“Earth to Jisung~ah” Minho, who always seems to notice when I’m too much into my brain, took me out of my inner monologue. “Are you okay?” he asked, hand on my shoulder as Felix and Hyuinjin happily talked about their interaction with Viviz in the front seats. I nodded in automatic mode, not sure if I was really okay. “Are you sure?”

The thing about Minho is that we have a really strong bond, which means we get along, but also means he knows how to read all my signs. Good or bad.

“I’m just a little tired, that’s all” I said, which wasn't a lie, I had the tendency of closing myself in my own world when I was tired or overwhelmed. Or both. As Jeongin liked to call it ‘when my brain got smoother than raw chicken breasts’.

“You do know we have dinner with manager-nim now, right?”

“More like breakfast, it’s literally 2AM” the older one rolled his eyes, always the loving one. “I know I just hoped I could say I’m not feeling well and go to bed”.

“As if that ever worked” even though it made me want to sulk and pout like a little kid he was right, that never worked, for any of us. Never.

Another of the worst parts of this job is that it wasn’t just a job, it was almost a life sentence, 24/7 locked in this cage, in this zoo, where people from all around the world looked at you, watched you perform, clapped at you but didn’t seem to see the pile of dirt and whatever fetid and putrid things you can imagine behind me. The pieces of my own skin and life I was leaving bit by bit in that pile.

It has been almost two weeks that I haven't had more than three hours of sleep per day. Living on coffee mixed with Pepsi mixed with energy drinks, and pills to keep us awake (that I wouldn’t be surprised if had some type of illegal drug in it). Thank god I didn’t need to diet much seeing that I worked out a lot, because if on top of all that I had to cut food income, I wouldn’t be here today.

“Does this meeting have to be today?” I threw my head back, a low groan leaving my lips, disappointment clear.

“What is Jisung complaining about now?” It was Hyunjin’s voice. I rolled my eyes, an old habit.

“He’s just tired, you know how he gets when he’s like that” Minho answered for me, his hand caressing my hair and I allowed myself to relax for the first time in so long. When was the last time someone touched my hair?

A low satisfied groan left my lips and the boys chuckled.

“You need a partner, Sungie” Felix spoke, and even though I couldn’t see due to my eyes being closed enjoying Minho’s playing with my hair I knew he turned his body to look at me with a smile on his face. “You’ve been pretty stressed lately, you need someone to talk to, to confide to, to play with your hair…”

“To wet your cookie on…” Hyunjin complemented and laughed at his joke.

“As if you’re getting some yourself” I responded a little ruder that I intended but sometimes it seemed that sex was all that he thought about.

He was about to answer with a witty response when his phone rang. By the responses he was giving it was our manager on the other line, probably mad that we were late or some. But I couldn’t be less bothered about it.

I just closed my eyes and enjoyed the feeling of Minho’s fingertips, now completely stilled, on top of my head, the heaviness of them making home on my scalp as I drifted off to sleep.

I dreamed of me, my future partner, and our kids living a secluded life on a farm with a bunch of animals.

Taglist (open): @venusmoonxnight @hanstarrs @mrskill2 @cupidcures @yoontaethings @soupbinlily @luvyev @adorawritesalot

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aliypop · 3 months

Text

Pocket Full Of Rainbows

Word Count: 2,445

Writers Note: I wanted to expand more on Elaine and Elvis

Warning: Slight Homophobia (Not from Elvis)

Pairing: POC OC x Elvis / Oc Kid x Father Elvis

Summary: In 1974 Las Vegas is booming with Elvis yet again, with his twins at the concerts for the first time, but things get a bit Queer When Elvis, Cecelia, and Jessie start noticing something different about Elaine.

Taglist

@darkmoviesquotespizza

@sissylittlefeather

@richardslady121

@thegettingbyp2

@presleyenterprise

@sissylittlefeather

@dkayfixates

@rjmartin11

@thetaoofzoe

@your-nanas-house

@zayurir

@60svintage

@sillybookmarks

@leapresley

Las Vegas 1974

"You come here often?" The waiter said to Elaine. He was 16 years old, cute, had a job, and what any girl her age would rave over. Elvis had nudged Cecelia in hopes that their late-blooming daughter was finally into boys. Jessie knew that joy wouldn't last. Elaine was always awkward with men. She'd start talking about comics or science. Or something to throw them off, "No, but my parents do..." Elaine rolled her eyes at the boy as he kept trying,

"Your parents must be rich." Elaine smiled, trying her hardest to be nice, but she had that same aggravated face that both her parents made after a long night of shows.

"Well, I'm a Presley, if you couldn't tell with them sitting here..."

"You're being shy, aren't you..."

"Buddy, she just doesn't like ya'," Jessie said as Elvis and Cecelia tried to hold out their laughs,

"And who are you?"

"Her brother, now leave her alone, please." Jessie smiled as she was released,

"So you two liking Vegas much?" Elvis asked, eating his dinner with his own silverware.

"Yeah, I was thinking of seeing the showgirls..." Jessie smirked as Elvis laughed,

"Jessie Vernon Presley, you're 13," Jessie gulped. He could feel the glare in his mother's voice, "But Mama, I'm not gonna do anything stupid." he smirked at his father, which meant he was going to do something stupid, "Right Elaine... Elaine..."

Elaine had her sights on a redheaded showgirl. She looked about 16. and a work of art. Her feathers sat on her head like a lovely peacock, and her makeup was beautiful. Her eyes were an emerald green, and she was looking back at "Elaine? Somethins got your attention?"

"I-I-I was just, uh, looking at her costume." She gulped,

"Right, you were..."Jessie said. As Elaine kicked him under the table, the two bickering

"Hey, you two, stop it!" Cecelia sighed, "Your father and I have had a long night, and it's only gonna get longer with a midnight show!"

"Sorry, mama..."

"How's everyone's food?" a waitress in her early twenties came by. Elaine couldn't take her eyes off her. She was like Wonder Woman, "You're great I-I mean, it's great, uh..." Elaine got embarrassed as Elvis and Cecelia were a bit suspicious,

"Tone it down, E..." Jessie said, "The Eagle an Dove are catchin' on."

"The soup is amazing..." Elaine smiled. After dinner, Elvis and Cecelia went to their suite to get dressed as Jessie and Elaine went to explore The International Hotel,

"Elaine's been actin' funny lately..."Elvis mentioned as Cecelia helped him put on his necklace.

"I don't know when I was her age. I wasn't

much of a flirt either." She shrugged, "I mean, I couldn't tell if a guy was even flirting." She laughed as Elvis looked at her. All his life with Cecelia, he knew her to be a flirt.

"I don't know... When she's around girls, she gets all red and shy."

"Honey," Cecelia glanced at him,

"I know... That's how I get when I'm around you, all red and shy like a little baby." He laughed as she kissed his cheeks,

"Is that so..." She blushed,

"Always is." He pulled her in front of his slightly fuller frame. His face was a bit rounder than it used to be, but Cecelia loved him just the same.

"You don't think Elaine's hiding something, do you?" Elvis glanced down at his wife,

"E, you're gonna have to tell 'em, you're..."

"I'm what Jessie..." she glared at her brother, the two walking past the casino,

"A Cherry chaser."

SMACK!

"Ouch!" Jessie groaned, rolling his eyes, "The hell was that for!"

"That's a rude thing to say!" She grumbled, walking away from her brother,

"Hey, hey, hey, no disrespect, sis, I like girls too," He smiled as she tried to glare at her brother, but she couldn't help that he meant well, even if he was stupid,

"Awe, boys, Ruby doesn't wanna play with us !" a man said, attacking the showgirl from earlier, "She must be a muff diver or something..." A guy shoved her. The girl looked scared. She looked like she wanted to cry. Trying her best to walk past, "Probably under that makeup, she's a dyke..."

"HEY LEAVE HER ALONE!" Elaine shouted as Jessie sighed. If there was one thing he knew about Elaine, she learned all there was to fight from their father's movies, so if anything, this would look like a fight from Blue Hawaii.

"What, you her girlfriend or something!" The one man said, pushing Elaine. There was the feistiness of Cecelia in her eyes and the fieriness of Elvis in her fist. Drawing her hand back, she punched the man in his eye as Jessie jumped in to stop the other from trying anything. Jessie took Karate with Elvis cause it was a father-son bonding time activity, but did it come in handy.

"Are you okay..."

"Ruby..." The girl said,

"Pretty name." Jessie blushed as Elaine sighed. She'd definitely lose this battle. Jessie kissed her hand as the showgirl pulled it back,

"Thanks for saving me, uh..."

"Elaine Marie Love Presley." She winked, pushing her hair back. She hadn't noticed Ruby blushing, but Jessie did,

"Presley as in..."

"Caught in a trap... I can't walk out~"

"Yeah, as in the two playing in the theater." Elaine smiled, "You maybe wanna meet em?"

"In these clothes..."

"You get changed. Meet us back here." She smirked,

"Okay." She smirked, her perfume gliding by them both as they sighed happily,

"Good going, sis."

"What did I do?"

"Got yourself a..." He trailed off as he saw a few teenage girls walk by, "Talk about a thousand pretty women waiting out there..."

"Yeah, for you." She said as he laughed,

"Good luck on your date, and don't forget you gotta tell 'em."

Elaine didn't know how to. She knew her mother and father. They'd love her, but they were traditional and very religious. Elaine and Jessie hadn't missed church or a church equivalence since she could remember. She knew they'd tell her. She'd be in a world of ruin and a first-class trip to hell, but she liked girls, and she tried so hard to get the rhythm of boys, but it wasn't her guitar to play.

"I hope this isn't a lot..." Ruby said she was out of her makeup and wig, and she had on a dress and flowers in her hair,

"You look perfect," Elaine said, walking towards the stage door, their hands brushing against each other,

Graceland 1974

"Well, since my Ruby left me... I found a new place to dwell. It's right at the end of lonely street. Vegas is where it dwells and-" Elaine began to sing as she strummed her guitar. Elaine had been silently going through a breakup with Ruby, who only found her attractive because she was the daughter of Elvis and Cecelia. They had exchanged secret letters and phone calls, or at least she thought,

"Hey, uh, me and my friends are gonna rehearse if you wanna maybe join us?" Jessie offered. He hated seeing Elaine like this,

"No thanks..."

"Estella's gonna be there..."

"Well, now that you add..." She jolted out of her bed and did her hair. Elaine had a big crush on Estella. She was the definition of cool. Blonde short hair, her blue eyes, her freckles, her Tupelo accent, and her skateboard.

"I found letters in Elaine's room," Elvis said as Rising Sun was beside Lightning Bolt, Cecelia's horse. "Elvis..." She looked at her husband as he sighed, "You go snoopin. You'll find what you're lookin for," She said as he nodded. Elvis was getting worried, Elaine was being more distant lately, and she was short when they'd both ask her about school crushes, "I know, but she's hiding somethin. I don't know what, but damnit! I thought we'd be good parents where they can trust in us, you know!" Elvis was getting angry as Cecelia stopped her horse to walk over to him,

"The twins are 13. They're going through teenage angst." She added,

"But honey..."

"Honeybutter..." She squished his cheeks, "We're great parents, or at least as great as we can be. They're fed, loved, clothed, loved, taken care of, loved, listened to, loved," She kissed him as Elaine saw them. There was a pit in her stomach as she knew she'd never get that joy,

"So... Elaine..."

"Yes, Estella?" Her heart began to pound as she looked up at her,

"Jessie tells me you play guitar. And you sing a little." She smiled as Elaine nodded, the prettiest masculine girl she'd ever seen, "Y-Yeah, I do... I mean, my parents are singers, so it runs in the family and-" Estella gave her a peck on the cheek, and Elaine turned red, holding her cheek,

"Was I ramblin..."

"A little, I think it's cute."

"I think you're cute!" She blurted out as Estella blushed. She looked like a strawberry, "Unless you know this isn't your thing, and I'm assuming, and maybe I'm just being stupid an-" Estella leaned in and kissed her quick,

"HEY TUPELO!"

"WHAT, JP!"

"WE'RE STARTIN!"

"You're red?" Elvis looked at his daughter as she blushed even more, "I-I have a fever!" she nodded, "I don't feel good..."

"So then Tupelo says. I'm playing the chords wrong!" Jessie rolled his eyes as Elvis and Cecelia laughed, "Like it's my mama's song, I'd never play it wrong!" He said as Elaine looked at him,

"Maybe she's right..."

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Oh yeah, you're agreeing with her 'cause she kissed you!" Jessie shouted as he soon after realized what he'd done,

"She kissed you?" Elvis and Cecelia said in unison

"Ellie, i'm so-"

"Yes! She did, I-I..." There was a pit in her stomach, but she couldn't turn back now. The cat would be soon out of the bag, but it needed to be, "Mama... Daddy, I like girls..." Elaine said the room was filled with silence as she sighed,

"Elaine, you're only 13 years old. You don't know what you like!?" Elvis said, his fist on the table as she glared at him,

"You two, calm down!" Cecelia said, "Elaine, please explain why you think this is..."

"Well, I really knew when I was 12. That I didn't like boys like the girls in my class did. I can talk to them as friends, but... I-" Elvis shook his head. He was confused as to how this happened, how he and Cecelia managed to miss the signs.

"You what... saw a girl, thought guess I'll try that!"Elvis interjected,

"I thought she was pretty, and today she kissed me! and-" Elaine cried as she ran off to her bedroom,

"We're not done with this!" Elvis grumbled,

"I'll talk to her." Jessie followed his sister,

"Elvis Aaron Presley!" Elvis was in the dog house when his wife used his full name, his blue eyes looking at her desperation. He didn't mean to upset his baby girl, "I know I gotta make it right." He sighed,

"Not till you tell me about your outburst..."

"Cece..."

"Elvis..." Her brows furrowed,

"Alright, fine, I don't want her gettin hurt out there... People ain't gonna accept her, and they'll say mean things or-or take advantage or-"

"I don't know if you noticed Elvis, but we weren't socially accepted either..." Cecelia laughed,

"Cause our music..."

"Cause of our love," She kissed his forehead, "I'm a little disappointed too. She won't marry a man or have grandchildren, but God told us to love one another. And that's our baby. She needs our support more than anyone."

"But..."

"Ah...Ah, she's already got it rough, being she and her brother are mixed, but she's Presley tough," She said as Elvis sighed,

"I need to think,"

Elaine was sobbing into her pillow when she heard a soft knock on the door,

"Little pumpkin..."

"Mama..."

"Can we talk?"

"Okay..." Cecelia sat on her bed, "Is Daddy mad at me..."

"No, he could never be. He loves you. It's just this surprised us both,"

"I'm sorry it's-"

"No need to be sorry, honey muffin. Can I tell you a story?" Elaine nodded as she laid her head in her mother's lap. "There was a girl who fell in love with an incredible boy back in 54. They were inseparable, but society didn't exactly like that."

"Why..."

"Well she was black, and he was white."

"Did they stop loving each other?" Elaine asked as Cecelia softly combed through ther hair, "No, They fought to be seen together, to love loud together," Cecelia swooned,

"Did they win?!"

"Well, Christmas, we'll be together for 14 years now," Elaine gasped as she realized she was talking about her and her father,

"Well, why are you telling me this mama?"

"Cause, I know we may not understand fully why, but I do know if you like this girl. Or this lifestyle, you're gonna have to fight for your love, fight to love loud, and fight to say I'm here, I exist, and you will see me." Cecelia smiled,

"So you're not mad..."

"Not at all. After all, Aunt Midge likes women, and Uncle Richard likes men. " Cecelia laughed, "Heck, I think Ann Margaret is so pretty I'd kiss her if I could." Elaine blushed hearing that,

"I think I'll go talk to Daddy."

Elvis was outside in the meditation garden praying for guidance. He knew his daughter needed his love more than his misguided judgments. "Daddy... Can we talk?" She asked as Elvis looked up and saw her, patting a seat next to him as she sat down, "I-I know it's a lot to take in. But, it's how I was made to live and-" Elvis hugged his daughter tight, "I'm proud of you, I may not fully understand it, Little Biscuit, but I'll get around to it," He ruffled up her hair as smiled at him,

"Guess you're a true, Presle."

"Why's that, Daddy?" She looked up at him

"Cause the ladies can't resist us." He kissed her forehead,

"You're funny."

*Bonus*

"So then I told Estella. That I would go to the dance with her!" Jessie mimicked her words as Cecelia and Elvis listened, "How'd you manage that." Elvis asked, and Jessie mocked her still. Elaine curled her lip, quirked her eyebrow, and said, "I got close and said I wanna play house with you,"

Elvis and Cecelia both choked on their drinks,

"You what!?"

"It's my favorite song of Daddy and... Does it not mean you want to play house like pretend ..."

"Oh, sweetie... please keep eating before you give us gray hair early." Elvis laughed.

#oc #fanfiction #new stuff #new #elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis x oc #70s elvis #poc oc x elvis #coming out fanfic #cecelia valmos #elvis x oc kid

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glubsurleseuil · 2 days

Text

Don't be scared

A Pennywise X F!Reader fanfic 'cause I need to get these ideas out of my head before they eat me up. I'll post this thing on AO3 when I'm not so lazy to create an account. If I go ahead with it, it'll be NSFW, sexually disturbing, gory, violent, reader is an autistic drepressed suicidal girl… In short, skip it if you're a sensitive soul. For the rest of you, enjoy (I hope).

(Note: It was translated by Deepl, English is not my mother tongue, so I apologise for any mistakes. If you want to correct me, don't hesitate!)

(Note 2: The image is by @fandomscreenshots but you should already know that because what she does is amazing)

You've always lived in Derry, Maine. Well, actually you were born in Derry, went to school in Derry and, like any good citizen, you now work in Derry. You don't like it, you never have, and you know that no matter what you do, you'll never like it.

Firstly, because no matter how hard you try since childhood, you just can't seem to make any friends. Worse, people seem to have agreed to shut you out and hate you. At best, they ignore you, at worst… well, let's just say there are certain people you've learned to avoid at all costs, so you don't have to spend the evening licking your wounds…

Secondly, because there's something unhealthy about the general atmosphere of this town, as if it were being devoured by a cancer that affected not only the surrounding greenery, but also the buildings and even the people. A cancer that could be called suffering, melancholy or despair. And although no one knows where these feelings come from, everyone seems to accept them as an inevitable burden.

Tonight, like most evenings, you're working at the Canal Rouge, a rather quiet bar where people can drink and listen to local artists perform on a small stage. You're a waitress, and it's not the most pleasant of jobs, especially when you're a woman. Fortunately, your boss is a woman too, and she's very strict about the respect customers show her staff, so things could be a lot worse.

But tonight, you're in a particularly bad mood. Fatigue has always been a difficult thing for you to deal with, and lately your nights have been… tormented. You've been having a dream, always the same with little difference, on and off for over a week. It's a hazy, dark, incoherent dream that's hard to remember. What you remember most is anguish, fear… and an unbearable feeling of being watched by something dangerous, making you feel like prey waiting to be devoured. When your therapist asked you to describe this dream, even with random words, you said 'fear', 'red' and… clown'. You laughed after saying that last word, a nervous, uncontrolled laugh, like a continuation of the one you always hear in this dream before waking up.

But tonight, the worst is yet to come, because you have to serve Jenny's gang as consumers, young people your own age who, like you, are stuck in Derry and like to pass the time by annoying other people. Especially you, since you met them in kindergarten. You know you won't be able to get home safely tonight…

And your fears are confirmed as you finish your shift. As you emerge into the alley to which the service door leads, you see them laughing at the end of it, looking in your direction. This is the way home. You quickly think of another option, but you know that even if you take a longer route, they'll be able to corner you sooner or later, and that's what they'll do. Unless… you go through the forest…

You don't hesitate, knowing that your pursuers won't follow. Their parents have given them the same instructions as you: never go into the forest at night. Ever. Your father had made it clear that he meant business by emphasizing his order with the back of his hand. But tonight, you're a grown-up, and between your dead father's old superstitions and Jenny and her gang's guaranteed beating, the choice was quickly made.

You head into the forest, at first more worried about your pursuers who, as expected, quickly abandon their target. Then you decide to turn on the torch on your phone, as it quickly becomes very dark between the tightly packed trees in the middle of the night. You recognize the path you're on and follow it to the ancient oak tree where you used to climb as a child to escape the bullies. But even this place, reassuring by day, gives off a menacing aura by night…

All is quiet, too quiet for a forest where animals should be going about their nocturnal lives. You get the impression that a kind of fog is floating around, light but unnatural, and as you look at the thick branches of the oak tree, you get a strange feeling… Like a memory from another life… Like a dream…

Suddenly, there's a sound. A sound you know well, having heard it every night for over a week. A laugh. A clown's laugh… You turn in all directions, shining your phone in every nook and cranny around the oak. And just as you realize that there's nothing there, that maybe it's your imagination playing tricks on you, the laughter starts up again. You jump back against the tree, light pointed ahead, anticipating the appearance of someone, something… The laughter becomes more distinct, closer… But it's not coming from in front of you, nor from the sides… It comes… from above?

With a quick gesture, you point the light towards the branches of the oak tree and there, hidden in the shadows of the leaves, you see it: a clown. No, THE clown. The one who has haunted your dreams, distressed your nights, devoured your sanity. This present moment has repeated itself endlessly in your nightmare and now it's all happening for real, clear as day and just as terrifying.

With a muffled scream, you drop your phone, the lamp face down and your legs buckling beneath you. The little light that escapes from beneath your phone only faintly illuminates the bottom of the tree, but you know IT's there.

And it's not long before he leaps down from the tree. You can only make out a silhouette in the darkness, and as you hear him coming closer, you try to remember the end of the dream. It's all a blur, and all that comes back is a vague memory of a hunt in which you are the prey… Back on the grassy ground, you pull yourself back as best you can with your hands, never taking your eyes off the presence. Is this how you're going to die?

He moves slowly closer, slipping into the shadows. You can make out that he's leaning forward, then addressing you in a childlike voice.

"Hiya Y/N! I'm Pennywise, the dancing clown!"

He suddenly picks up your phone from the floor, pulling it up slowly, light downwards, gradually revealing his appearance as he continues.

"I've been looking forward to meeting you, you know? Don't be scared, I'm not going to kill you…"

As he utters these words, light finally shines on his face, reflected in his abnormally large and sharp teeth, piercing yellow eyes focused on you, and horror fills you.

"… yet."

The instinct to survive gives you new energy. You leap to your feet and flee the way you came, briefly illuminated by your phone in the clown's hands. You run at full speed, ignoring the noises behind you that make you think he's chasing you. If you've got a chance of getting away, you're going to take it. In fact, the forest exit isn't far off. One last push! You close your eyes and accelerate again… when hands often clutch your collar, brutally stopping your momentum.

"There you are, you bastard!"

"I told you she'd come back! She's such a pussy!"

"No way out now, you bitch!"

Jenny and her gang… It was Tim, the big muscular guy who caught you. They were waiting for you just outside the forest…

"Why are you running so fast? Are you afraid of the big bad wolf?"

They burst out laughing, but the sound reaches you distorted. The adrenalin from your run is wearing off too slowly and you can still hear your heart pounding in your eardrums. You struggle on, your brain unable to make sense of what has just happened. Suddenly, you hear a foul noise. A kind of hoarse, inhuman growl, coming out of the depths of the woods like an echo to their pitiful mocking laughter. You feel Tim's hands trembling with uncontrollable fear on your collar and watch their faces disintegrate before your eyes. Tim lets go and they all flee in a single scream of terror, leaving you behind.

You turn around, your body still tired from your frantic run, and you quickly understand what made them flee: golden eyes, shining menacingly in the darkness, perched on a huge, muscular, fur-covered figure, its multiple sharp teeth accentuating the evil growl rolling down its throat. A werewolf.

You barely have time to realize that it's the clown from earlier before he disappears between the trees with a hoot that sends shivers down your spine. Just as you regain your strength to flee, something falls near you. You examine it carefully: it's your phone, and as you turn the screen towards you, you see a message written in a torn red font:

DON'T BE SCARED

You don't wait any longer and run towards town without looking back.

#it 2017 #pennywise #pennywise x reader #pennywise x you #pennywise fanfiction #it #horror #damn i'm so scared of posting this why #anxiety my old friend

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v-o-i-d-e-d · 1 year

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I’ll Follow Your Lead - Hot Chocolate and a Cinnamon Bun

~Also posted on my Ao3 and Wattpad~

Part 2

Dorothea Lindsay was a woman of great patience. Her kind smile never wavered as the middle-aged man in front of her studied the café menu as if it were a novel invention. Inwardly, she was screaming for him to pick something so that she could get on with her day, however, she simply switched her weight from her right leg to her left leg.

“I think I’ll have an Earl Grey tea with lemon. As well as one of the fresh cakes for the day,” The man finally said. He was nice enough – he had a nice smile and spoke softly – but boy he was thorough with his menu options.

“I’ll have that right out for you, sir!” Dorothea nodded and turned on her heel. She brushed her hair away from her eyes and swiftly made her way to the front counter where she would gather the man’s order.

Dorothea was a hopeful woman. She had a silly dream to become a musician – a singer. She had the talent and the face to make it big but hadn’t made her break yet. As she slaved away in Café le Plus Sucré, she dreamed of being featured in the spotlight of a grand stage. In the evenings, she did small shows in a local restaurant: Rinaldi’s. It was a small Italian restaurant that hosted all kinds of people from around the city. New York City was supposed to be Dorothea’s chance for greatness; instead, she was closing in on her second year as a waitress. She was a hard-working woman, just barely 16 and already holding down two steady jobs. She did not have anyone else to depend on and had very little money but she scraped by.

She mindlessly prepared the man’s tea and grabbed one of the freshly baked lemon cakes from the cooling rack before waltzing back to the man. As she placed his order in front of him, he smiled widely at her and rested his callused hand on her soft one.

“You look tired, miss. It’s a shame that they have such a pretty girl working so hard!”

Dorothea rolled her eyes but quickly recovered her smile.

“Oh, it’s not so bad. I get to meet a lot of interesting people here. There’s hardly a dull moment!

She had lied to that man. The afternoons at the café were always dull and time passed with absentminded cleaning and magazine reading. Dorothea sat on a stool behind the counter. Only one other person was in the building and it was an old woman that frequents the establishment. Dorothea had already set her up with her normal order, at her normal table and left her to watch the people pass outside of the large window. Now she was flipping through this month’s Vogue issue and awaiting the evening rush. She could hear the honking of automobiles and even the clopping of horses' hooves against the cobblestone as she read the articles and studied the pictures. She was envious of these beautifully styled women as she sat in a stained dress and apron with her hair sloppily tied up with a dark red ribbon. Just as she let out a heavy sigh, the front door opened.

The young man was about Dorothea’s age and was dressed in some old, simple clothes. He held a leather-bound book and a small pencil case in his hand and wore ratty boots on his feet. He looked around the cozy building before his bright blue eyes landed on the woman at the counter. He paused for a brief moment before proceeding toward the counter and taking a seat on one of the stools.

“What can I get for you, sir?” Her voice was warm and smooth, like a nice hot chocolate. Her eyes were much the same.

The man cleared his throat.

“Um,” He glanced around the counter looking for a menu and the girl chuckled to herself.

“Forgive me! I didn’t even ask if you wanted a menu,” She turned around and grabbed a sheet of paper, and then presented it to the man. He smiled and his eyes finally left hers. He scanned the options, surprised that such a nice place had such low prices.

“How about a hot chocolate with a cinnamon bun,”

Dorothea could not help but laugh at his choice. The man responded by furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. “What?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to offend. It’s just that I don’t meet many men with an order such as this! Most men think it too sweet.”

“I’ve got a taste for sweet things,” his pink lips quirked in a smirk. “What’s your name?”

“Dorothea.”

“Jack.”

#Titanic #Jack Dawson imagine #rose dewitt bukater #jack dawson #leonardo dicaprio #jack dawson x reader #jack dawson x oc #new york city #canon divergent au #pre-movie #AU

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rosemaryandarsenic · 2 years

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You need Gareth requests babe??? How about Some shower intimacy? Washing his pretty hair for him? God I’ve got it BAD for this guy

The way you always have my back with this 💕😭 I’m literally down so bad. I had a dream with Gwydion in it last night lmao and I can’t stop thinking about it.

Notes/Warnings: This was supposed to be fluff but I'm smitten so there's smut (sorry not sorry lmao). Minors DNI! Mentions oral sex and scary movies. Cursing! Female reader and Gareth are 20/21 with their own place, just trying to make it in the world <;3

Gareth twisted and turned in the driver's seat of his car, sweating from the summer heat as he searched anxiously for his car keys. He’d literally just had them in his hands and now they were nowhere to be found. The heat made him anxious, and driving made him anxious, he wanted to go inside and lay on the floor and not have to think about a single thing ever again but he couldn’t. He had to find his damn car keys and drive to work. The only thing keeping him remotely sane was the knowledge that he’d see you when his shift was over. You’d promised to be waiting for him when he came home and he knew you would be - that is if he could find his fucking keys. Finally, his fingers brushed warm metal between the seats and he pulled, the keys clanking against the car's consul as he sighed. Today had been too long and it wasn’t even noon yet.

His shift at the theater was slow, it being a Tuesday. The summer heat had everyone at home, with no interest in driving anywhere even if there was AC. He swept stale popcorn and wiped down chairs for what felt like years until the sound of his watch beeping made him jump. 8pm, thirty minutes left, time to close up shop. He quickly locked up, checked the registers and slid the drawers into the safe, practically sprinting to the parking lot. He smoked on the ride home, windows rolled down and music blaring. Tomorrow was his off day and he was free, for twenty four hours, headed home to his sweet girl in their new apartment.

As he swung through the front door, you jumped up from the kitchen table, dropping the magazine in your hands. He smiled at your grin and the paper clippings littered around you - a stack of coupons and a grocery list neatly arranged in the middle of the chaos.

“Hi baby,” you said in a sing song voice, tip toeing to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. “I missed you today.”

He kissed you softly, “I missed you too.”

“How was work?” You mumbled, still holding him close to you, nuzzling your face into his shirt and wrinkling your nose at the synthetic butter smell.

“Boring,” he laughed, “only had two people come in today for License to Drive.”

“I can’t believe they’d rather watch that than Killer Klowns,” you shake your head, making him laugh again. “Imagine Chrissy Cunningham’s reaction to Jojo.”

He shakes his head, curls sticking to his forehead from sweat and chuckles, “I still can’t believe Jason took her to see Bloodsport. I had three people complain about her screaming so loud.” He huffed.

You roll your eyes, smirking at the picture.

“Oh!” You exclaim, “I almost forgot, your mom called this afternoon. She needs us to watch Rosie on Saturday so she can pick Sarah up from summer camp.”

Gareth groaned. He loves his little sisters but he couldn’t wait until Rosie was old enough to stay home alone for a few hours. She’s 8, and Sarah is 16 now, so she usually stayed with her. It had been easier when he didn’t work long hours, before you had gotten your job as a waitress, but you both made it work. Greg, his step-dad, traveled for business now so he wasn’t home as often as he used to be. His mom, who also worked, relied on the two of you for extra help with him being gone. It was decent parenting practice for two young twenty something’s, but he hated having less time with you under any kind of circumstances.

You gave him a knowing look, and planted a kiss on his cheek. “It won’t be for more than a few hours, my love. We’ll still have all night to ourselves.” You winked, and he blushed.

Pulling you into his arms he murmured, “Still not enough time with you,” planting kisses on your forehead. “Need all of it.”

You giggle, playfully grabbing his face and pulling him to you till your noses touched.

“And what will you do if that’s not possible, hmm?”

He played along, looking serious. “Well I’ll just have to make sure I use every moment then.”

He grabbed your hands, taking control of your limbs and walked you back to the table. Clumsily he grabs the scissors you’d been using and comically tries to cut one out while still holding your hand. “Looks like we have to finish cutting these out together.”

You laugh loudly, swatting him away as he feigns being offended.

“My beautiful girlfriend doesn’t want my help?” He throws a hand to his chest, raising his eyebrows. “Rude.”

“So rude, I know.” You giggle, running a hand through his hair. He leans into it, the touch of your fingers feeling divine. The blood flow goes from his cheeks to his pants as you scratch his scalp, tugging a little at his hair and kissing his jaw.

“I have an idea.” You say, smiling up at him.

“And what’s that?” He replies, eyes closed as he continues to let you play with his hair.

“Since we’re savoring every minute, why doesn’t Gareth the Great join me in the shower?” You ask, a mischievous look on your face.

“That sounds like a great idea.” He smiles back, eyes open now, and scoops you into his arms carrying you towards the bathroom.

The tiny apartment isn’t much, but you both have managed to make it homey and personal. The street lamps outside shine through the cheap blinds onto a worn out sofa (compliments of the local thrift store). Dried flowers adorn the tv stand, Gareth’s VHS collection organized neatly against the wall on wire shelves next to a stereo and stacks of tapes. There are unframed posters littering the walls, along with Polaroids and drug store prints of family photos. The bedroom is littered with clothes, your waitress uniform on the back of a chair and your old desk piled with papers and notebooks. The kitchen walls hold mugs and pans, pancake mix and macaroni boxes tucked away on the counter with mail and old receipts. The bathroom, where Gareth places you on the tiny counter near the sink, is a faded cream color. One of your paintings (a landscape of lovers lake) and mismatched towels hang next to the old tub, now doubling as a shower. He pulls the pink plastic curtain to the side, letting the water run warm before turning on the shower head and reaching for you.

You lean into him, slightly sleepy as you relax, letting him gently pull off your worn out band shirt and pajama shorts. You tug away his uniform, sliding off the counter and gathering the crumpled clothes, tossing them into a hamper in the hall. He’s watching you lazily, eyes roaming over your naked body. That’s one thing about him that’s never changed. He’s seen you naked hundreds of times, I mean you’ve been dating for two years now, but he still looks at you the same way he did the first time. A sweet smile covers his face, his pretty hazel eyes roaming over you as he pulls you in for another kiss.

“You look pretty today,” he whispers, brushing your hair out of your face and wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Thank you,” you whisper and kiss his nose, pulling away to climb into the shower.

The warm water feels heavenly on your skin, soothing the ache in your legs from standing all day. You tilt your face up and let it rain over you as you feel him climb in behind you, pulling the curtain closed. Gentle hands rub the tension out of your shoulders as you rinse your hair.

“Let me do it.” He says, lathering shampoo in his hands before pulling you out of the stream of water. He carefully scrubs at your scalp, brow furrowed in concentration as he makes sure to get the grime off you. You relish the way he’s pressed up against you while rinsing your hair, pausing only to plant tiny kisses on your neck and jaw as he works away the days stress.

“Tell me about your day, pretty girl.” He says, running conditioner through your hair and working out any knots.

“Also boring,” you murmur, “just the regulars today. Dan said Billy’s back in town. Came in last night before close with some new girl.”

He nods, listening as he grabs your favorite body wash.

“Got $15 in tips though, so not a bad day. Mornings are nice because it’s cooler so we still get the usual rush.”

He squirts the bottle onto your chest, getting too much on you and you chide him.

“Hey, don’t waste that, it’s my favorite.”

“I would never,” he smirks, rubbing his palms on your chest as he starts to wash your body. He knows what he’s doing, and you let him do it, squirming as you feel an ache in your core. Tease.

You finish rinsing off, feeling a little light-headed, and pull him under the stream of water.

“Your turn lover boy.” You smile, watching him lean into the water and close his eyes. He’s beautiful really, broad shoulders and soft skin. You admire the way the water cascades over him, catching on the happy trail on his torso and pooling at his feet. Lathering shampoo in your hands, you carefully run your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp. Free from sweat and buildup, his curls twist into wild shapes as you scrub away at him. He hums softly at your touch, letting you rinse away the soap with agile hands. He loves it when you touch him, especially when you play with his hair. You’re the only one allowed to do it, and you take advantage of that frequently by touching his hair whenever you can.

“Lean back for me honey,” you say, the last of the soap running down the drain as rinse his hair, careful to make sure it doesn’t get tangled. He leans in to kiss you before you can put any conditioner in his hair, and you let him. A little moan escapes your mouth as bites your lip a bit, hands roaming down your ass and thighs.

“Look whos already so wet for me.” He jokes as he pulls away, letting you put conditioner in his hair. You slap him lightly on the cheek as a response, continuing your work. As you get to washing his body, you pretend not to notice the semi-hard on he has going on. Instead, you tease him, getting down on your knees to wash his thighs. Everything about him is attractive to you but his thighs make you absolutely feral, they’re broad and muscled, with a soft layer of chub. Looking at them makes you want to bury your face into them, or ride them into oblivion. You roam your hands on his inner thigh, smirking as you get closer to his crotch, his dick getting more pink and hard by the second.

“Need some help?” You ask, voice husky, as you drag the tip of your finger along his erection. He whines a little, nodding, and you kiss his thigh. Situating yourself comfortably, you use your soapy hands to grasp his cock, slowly pumping as you get another whimper from him. You look up, letting the sudsy water drip down on you. You watch him happily as he fists your hair in his hand. It’s nothing complicated, just a little fun while you bathe, but to him it feels pornographic. The soapy water slides along your boobs as they rise and fall from your breathing, you staring up at him with doe eyes, your hands grasped around him. He’s trembling a bit, feeling particularly sensitive and you seem to know it as you pump him faster, eliciting groans from his lips. All it takes is a little kiss from you, on his tip, and he’s cumming all over your face and chest, cock throbbing.

“Jesus Christ, sweetheart.” He groans, grasping onto your shoulders as he spills his seed all over you.

You giggle, gripping at his thighs and enjoying the way he’s practically collapsing into your arms. You stand carefully, legs a bit numb from your position and you rinse off again, letting him help you and smother you with more kisses. He shuts the water off and grabs a towel, tossing it over your head and rubbing. You peek out from under the cloth with a giggle as he lifts it off you, moving to your body. Your hair is flying everywhere now and your checks are blushed.

“All done.” He says, smacking your ass lightly and you step out of the shower, watching him dry himself off next. He’s so pretty.

#gareth emerson #gareth emerson x y/n #gareth emerson x reader #gareth the great #rosemaryandarsenic rants

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