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talesofesther · 2 years

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scorch marks | ch 3

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Series Summary: Wednesday has been careful to keep what you two have behind closed doors and far away from labels; but when someone starts to take it — take you — away from her, she realizes how much she cares.

A/N: I'm not sure if I'm completely happy with how this turned out, but that's my life nowadays. And I wanted to post this for you guys before I leave for my little trip for new years, so I hope you enjoy it. Also, I think I ended up writing this one exclusively from Wednesday's pov lol. <3

Masterlist | Read ch 2 here

Human emotions were a strange, bothersome thing. Love could make you kill just as much as anger; ambition could make you get down on one knee to pledge your devotion to someone just as much as love.

They can get in the way of a clear mind, making you say or do something that would come back to torture you later.

That was probably their most devious power. And they lead to feelings; that are messy and unstable.

Wednesday prided herself on having control over them, not the other way around. Or at least she did. Because recently she has been victim to so many, that she didn't have the stomach to keep count.

She remembers the coldness of the rain against her skin as she walked away from Weathervane — away from you — it was pleasant and comforting; a safe blanket as the droplets trickled down her forehead all the way to her chin and hid the few stray tears that escaped her.

Her steps had been fast in desperation to get away. Her throat closed so tightly that she thought having someone choking her would be more bearable. Her heart beating so painfully, that maybe a bullet would've been more merciful.

She walked, and walked, and walked; her feet carrying her to school without realizing it. She was soaked when she stepped into her dorm, making puddles of water with each step she took. She remembers Enid talking, but the words were blurred.

Wednesday had made a beeline to the shower, turning it on with a temperature colder than the rain she had just escaped from.

Some say the second time around is more bearable. This certainly wasn't the case for her.

It was the day Wednesday put an end to whatever was happening between you and her. The day where she hated the most that she was forced to feel her own emotions.

The week that followed wasn't an improvement either.

Your words kept replaying in Wednesday's mind like a broken record; this is not a date, and please can we talk?

What would you have said, had she cared to listen?

Wednesday sat in front of her typewriter every day, staring at the blank paper and being unable to fill it. She'd hit a stump, because maybe she'd never know what you would have said.

You passed by each other in Nevermore's hallways as if you were just two strangers in the street, never to cross paths again. When you stood on one side of the bee keeper's shed, Wednesday stayed in the far opposite one, and if she so much as tried coming closer, you'd drop whatever it was you were doing and walk away. Even if Enid asked, you didn't come to her dorm anymore, prompting the werewolf to ask questions even though she could guess the answer.

Wednesday didn't know it was possible to miss someone this much. She caught herself tracing the lines of her own palm in a motion that was yours to make, brushing the corner of her lips in the place that was yours to kiss. And as much as she hated this feeling with all her might, hated you for forcing it into her, she couldn't chase it away.

It was so sadistically ironic that Wednesday kept you at arm's length in order to avoid attachment and loss, and that's exactly what she got. Maybe this is what Goody was trying to warn her about, that no matter the road she takes, the end will always be the same.

—

Today was a friday, ten days and four hours since the last time Wednesday spoke with you, since she replicated a damn drama cliche with her pitiful walk in the rain. Not that she was keeping count.

She sat at one of the tables on the quad, Enid at her side talking about something she wasn't listening to. The day was gray, morbidly so as the clouds loomed above, dark and cold in a way that Wednesday would've loved if it wasn't for you.

You who sat at the other end of the quad, putting as many tables and obnoxiously loud students between you and Wednesday as you could. You who looked so undeniably beautiful under the shadows. You who was smiling, happy as you laughed with your friends and spared no glances into the crowd to look for anyone.

Were you happier without her?

Wednesday sucked in a sharp breath at the mere thought of it, her lower lip quivering slightly as she exhaled, before she averted her eyes from you with a blink.

She turned to Enid only to find the girl's bright eyes already on her, a knowing smirk on her pink lips; "I won't even ask if you were listening."

"I got bored after the word shopping," Wednesday stated, raising an eyebrow that got Enid rolling her eyes.

"And because you were stalking our resident pretty girl," Enid teased, bumping Wednesday's shoulder with hers.

It was a truth that Wednesday countered with a lie; "I only stalk people who are hiding something or who have something I want, she doesn't fit on any of those."

Enid slumped on her seat, resting her head on her hands as she looked at Wednesday, "you can't keep doing this, Wednesday."

"Doing what?"

"Pretending like you don't care," Enid says then, with the frustration of someone who's just seen their favorite couple from a tv show hit another almost.

"Why would you assume the opposite?" Wednesday asks irritatedly.

Enid gives her best friend a look that could only be read as seriously? before she sits up straighter; "you two went from hanging out in the dorm for hours and sneaking out when you think no one's watching, to staying on different sides of the school and avoiding each other like the plague. Even you have to feel that change."

But I don't want to; Wednesday thinks to herself. Her only response is to look away.

With a sigh, Enid softens; "why won't you just tell her the truth?" She asks gently. The werewolf doesn't know the full story, and when her roommate ignores her questions and neither you nor Yoko will talk, gossip can only do so much; but even a blind person can see that whatever happened, hurt both of you.

Wednesday frowns; "what truth?"

"That you have feelings for her, silly. Like, genuinely more than friends feelings." There's an excited smile on Enid's lips as she says it, eyes glinting with the prospect of a love story.

"That's a horrible idea," Wednesday's face does something complicated, as if she's sorting on how to feel about this — or tasted something sour. "Besides, you know what happened the last time I did something remotely close to that."

And just like that, the muddy waters start to clear, the fog starts to dissipate and Enid understands what is happening — if just a little better.

The blonde reaches out a hand to Wednesday's forearm, squeezing softly; "Wednesday, this is Y/N we're talking about, she's not gonna turn into a murderous monster and break your heart."

Wednesday visibly gulps, her jaw painfully clenched as she felt uncharacteristically small under Enid's gaze.

"Plus I thought you'd be into the whole potential heartbreak thing." Enid teases, fighting back a grin, to which Wednesday can only mumble back;

"Not nearly as fun as I thought it'd be."

Switching her gaze between you and the raven-haired girl by her side, Enid hums; "want my advice?"

"No."

"I'd take my chances if I were you, because I know she genuinely cares about you. A lot."

There was something about the way Wednesday dropped her shoulders slightly, about the way she stole another glance at you as if you had just bought a one-way ticket to another country. It was that bittersweet feeling of a good thing that came to its end way too early.

Enid felt like crying.

"I'm afraid I'm too late, Enid."

—

It wasn't until dinner time — and after much, much insistence from Enid — that Wednesday decided to try and mend her mistake.

The cafeteria was already filled with students when she arrived, in true Nevermore fashion, the place was big and ancient; a meticulously decorated stone-walled room with tables and a kitchen area. Werewolves, Enid's brothers probably, were making a scene near the kitchen; there were gorgons and sirens playing a card game on one of the tables; and you sat with the vampires, with Yoko by your side no less.

Wednesday felt curious eyes on her, undoubtedly her peers wondering why she'd been staring unmoving for so long. A deep breath passed through her lips as she begrudgingly swallowed her pride and took the first step, her boots thudding against the stone floor.

With each of her steps, she repeated the words in her head; can we talk? Do you still wish to talk? Or would it be better, I need to talk with you?

Wednesday decides that fighting a murderous monster would be infinitely easier.

Your eyes locked in on her figure before she even reached you, and Wednesday smiled, a tiny tilt of lips that only you would notice; but you looked away from her before it happened.

Did people care about each other only because they enjoyed the pain that comes with it?

Something akin to panic fluttered inside Wednesday's stomach when you got up from your seat, reaching for your backpack and muttering a few goodbyes to your friends as you walked between the tables. The Addams girl quickened her steps, almost bumping into Bianca and not bothering to turn around when the siren called her out on it.

Wednesday just about managed to stop in front of you before you left for the doors.

Is this what you felt on that day?

Your eyes closed with a sigh, your hands were buried deep in your pockets and there was a rigidness to your shoulders. You were nervous, and even if it wasn't the right time, Wednesday was proud of herself for knowing it.

But having you this close again after so long — not really, ten days aren't that long, yet Wednesday hates that it felt like ages — has its downsides.

Wednesday couldn't speak. The only thing she needed to do, and her words are stuck. Feelings are a pain in the ass to deal with.

Yoko stood by your side, arms crossed over her chest; "do you have anything to say or what?"

She's protective, Wednesday doesn't blame her for it anymore.

Yes, she should say. There's a glint of hope in your eyes when you look at her; Wednesday finds herself wanting to reach out, but she's not sure she's allowed to anymore. She wonders if you missed her as much as she misses you.

"No," is what she says, and it's quite painful.

—

It's well into the night when Wednesday makes her way back to her dorm, the stairs creaking under her boots, a half-moon shining high on the sky being the only source of light.

her insides are twisting with a mix of rage, frustration, self-pity, and something else that's just heavy.

She pushed open the door to her dorm only to find it empty. Enid's bed is unmade and Wednesday's typewriter still has a blank page on it.

Enid had texted Wednesday earlier, something about going out with Ajax and not coming back too soon. The solitude was well appreciated, it gave the Addams girl some much-needed peace to work on her novel. The only problem is that her mind was nowhere near peaceful.

The first thing that caught Wednesday's attention after she walked in was the potted cactus by her window, it looked a little sad, its soil all dry and the color not as green as it should be. Wednesday didn't think twice as she walked to her bathroom, filling a cup with water and gently emptying it into the plant's pot. At least of that part of you, she'd take good care of.

She took off her hoodie next, throwing it on top of her bed. It was pathetic that the simple action got her thinking of you too, of when you'd lounge on there talking nonsense with Thing while she wrote.

How could one person hold so much power over another was beyond Wednesday, especially because she didn't allow it; it just happened. It happened that she kissed you out of impulse, just because she couldn't die without knowing what your lips felt like; or that she kept calling on you more and more after that, feeling a hole in her chest whenever you were away for too long.

It just happened that she fell for you, and maybe it was inevitable, maybe you'd be her doom. But it was her choice to push you away, and she'd be lying if she said it wasn't the one thing she regretted the most.

There was a knock on Wednesday's door that snapped her mind back to reality. She turned around, frowning as she stared at the dark wooden thing, wondering who would seek her out this late in the night.

Honestly? Wednesday should've seen it coming as soon as Enid suggested she should talk with you. She should've known.

She swung open the door only to reveal you on the other side, in plaid pajama pants and a white shirt, hugging yourself because of the coldness of the empty hallways.

Your posture went rigid as soon as your eyes found Wednesday's, it got her wondering if you forgot this was her dorm, if you knocked on the wrong door by accident.

"Hello," Wednesday said as she looked at you, features impassive, her hand tightening around the door handle until her knuckles turned white.

You ran your tongue over your bottom lip before you spoke; "Enid texted me, said you needed help with something. That it was an emergency," you gulped, diving into over-explanation, "and that she wasn't here, so she asked if I could…" You trailed off, your fingers nervously tapping your arm.

Oh. Maybe her roommate wasn't too far off when she said you cared. It was rare the times where anyone would be able to easily read Wednesday's emotions. This was one of them and it wasn't a surprise that you were the cause.

There was a glint to Wednesday's eyes that belonged to you, her features softened in a blink — no more creases to her eyebrows and lips parting in vain when her words got tangled on her tongue — it was the calmness after a raging storm.

Wednesday used to mock the people who spoke about soulmates, about the invisible red string that few ones were lucky enough to find the other end of. But could there ever be any other explanation for the way you set her at ease?

She nodded once, stepping aside so you could walk in.

You were hesitant in the way you did so, as if you didn't belong, and Wednesday hated it — because you did belong, right here by her side. You stood in the middle of her dorm, right between the division of colors to blankness on the round window.

The air felt electric around you. Wednesday chanced a step closer, her gaze casting over every twitch of your expressions; "I do," she started, and a beat passed as she refused to take the last chance to back down and let you go, "I do have something to say."

You scoffed, "that doesn't sound like an emergency," but there was no bite to your tone, almost as if you wanted her to object.

"It is," Wednesday told you, allowing the affection she held for you to drip from every syllable. One more chance, that's all she needed, and maybe she’d tell you just what it is that you do to her.

"Okay."

You had a kindness to you that she was underserving of, Wednesday thought. But maybe she could work her way to it. She raised her chin, striving to keep her heartbeat in check; "I wasn't completely fair last time we spoke, I'll measure my words better if you're willing to talk to me again."

Wednesday said the words as if they were the particularities of a contract, and not an apology to someone who held her cold heart in their hands. She realized it was the wrong thing to say as soon as your features fell.

You took on the glow of the moon effortlessly as it came through the window, it framed the lines of your jaw and cheekbone, all delicate and pretty. You ducked your head, allowing your hair to partially cover your eyes as you nodded a few times. "Great," you mumbled, before taking a few quick steps with intent to go around Wednesday and back to the lonely hallways.

She didn't let you, her cold hand closed around your own as you made to walk past her, keeping you in place in a gesture that surprised both of you.

Having your skin against hers again made Wednesday feel like coming home after a long journey. It's strange that that's what you became to her.

The hold she had on you wasn't strong, you could easily pull your hand away and leave. But you didn't.

"It was unfair of me," Wednesday started, each word tighter than the next as she forced them out. More than anything, Wednesday despised talking about her feelings, but words are all she has now, "the mistake was mine and I will accept the consequences for it. But you should have all cards on the table when making your judgment."

If there was a heaven, you already had your place on it — you turned back around to face Wednesday properly, and without letting go of her hand, you adjusted your hold so that your fingers could intertwine; your thumb tracing random patterns on her skin in a motion that you knew calmed her down. Because you knew how hard this was for her — Wednesday was sure you were an angel in your past life.

The dorm room had never felt this detached from the outside world, as it does now, holding this one moment for you and Wednesday alone.

For a split second, where she allowed herself the luxury of only existing in your presence, Wednesday wondered if this is what real love felt like. She took in a deep breath, feeling your perfume as she did so before focusing her gaze on your joined hands; they fit well together.

"I used to ask myself why I was the one who kissed you first that day." Wednesday hesitated, nagging on the inside of her cheek with her teeth, "and I realized that it's because you make me feel something I never- hardly ever feel when around other people."

Her eyes glanced up at you in a lazy motion, only to find that your eyes never left her once. There was a soft smile on your lips, overflowing adoration. Wednesday was sometimes envious of the way you wore your heart on your sleeve so effortlessly.

"It's an annoying feeling really," the raven-haired girl admitted, raising an eyebrow at you, "I wanted to rip it away from me the first time it happened." Her lips hovered open as she heard her own heartbeat, thunderous as ever, "but the one that came in your absence was much worse."

The passage of time felt equally too slow and too fast. You weren't doing anything. Did she do something wrong?

Wednesday tensed when, carefully, you raised a hand to her face. You were tender in the way that you pushed the black strands of hair behind Wednesday's ear, your fingertips lingering and tracing her cheek before you dropped your hand. As if you'd missed touching her too.

And oh you did, if Wednesday knew just how much, she'd probably be all over you already. "I feel it too," you whispered, a secret confession only for her to hear.

"I know we never talked about what we were, and I'm not asking you to," you spoke calmly, "but you really hurt me, Wednesday, at the very least I thought we were friends."

What if I'd like us to be more? What would you say, is that something you'd ever want too?

Before Wednesday could ask any of the questions she was dying to know the answer to, you asked yours first;

"Did you mean that? What you said?"

And the Addams girl figured that this was a more pressing matter anyway.

Wednesday shook her head with urgency, her hand squeezing yours to keep you in place, "it could never be true." She took a step closer, her boots bumping your sneakers, "hurting you, it's the last thing I'd ever want to do, and I apologize that it happened."

The raw honesty of Wednesday's tone was all you needed to hear to let go of her hand in order to cup her cheeks, pulling her into a kiss that spoke more than any of you ever could.

Wednesday grasped onto your waist almost desperately, her hands bunching up your shirt as she glued your body to hers in a nearly bruising grip, dying to feel the most of you that she could manage. She pressed herself into you, her nose brushing your cheek as her soft lips molded with yours; telling you she'd never miss anyone as much as she misses you, that she'd never feel so strongly for someone as she does for you; that she'd have you until death's cold embrace took her.

Your hands traveled from her jaw to the back of her neck, fingers mingling with the wisps of hair there. You pressed your lips to each corner of her mouth, bumping your noses as you did so, leaving testimonies of your affection each time your upper lip grazed hers; letting her know that she'd ruined anyone else to you, that you'd never feel for someone else, what you feel for her.

Wednesday pulled back just enough to be able to breathe, her forehead brushing yours as you felt more than heard the shape of her words; "let me make it up to you… Please."

You chuckled, tracing the outline of her lower lip with your thumb. It was reddish and just a little swollen, warm to the touch and it was your fault.

It got you smiling, because you could also feel her own smile under your digit; "gladly."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @gayestfeels26 @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @user284747 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @witchyhs-blog @tobylikesfire @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @maria-403 @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova

@justyourwritter69 @natashaxwife @fieldofsecretss @faunusrubyrose @darkblueeyedperson @jujuu23 @part-timetraveller @athenablack1959 @loki-is-loved @daddy-jareau @lordsisi08 @get-the-fuck-outta-here @simonsbluee @lovemesomemaura @whatawonderfulunsername @r4td0lll @red-havana @rob1nbuckl3ys @incrediblygay37 @panicattheeverywherekid @sometandomstuff333 @panicattheeverywherekid @sometandomstuff333 @wayvjinsol @saintnookling @awolfcsworld @georgi-salva @unforgettwble-sumii @youralphawolf72 @machinesanaloginterface @raiden88 @tani725

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams x fem!reader #wednesday addams #wednesday #wednesday addams x you #wednesdayedit #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #wednesday addams fanfic #jenna ortega #wednesday x reader #my story

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fivestar-outlaw · 1 year

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New Horizons (Park Seonghwa) (Ch. 3)

Chapter 3: Scorpions

Pairing: Park Seonghwa x Fem!Reader

Words: 3.5K+

Warning(s): insecurities and discussion of insecurities, angst, someone's rude to MC :( (None of the guys), slight hurt/comfort, dumbdumbs in love but dont realize each others feelings

A/N: Here is chapter 3. I think this one is the second hardest to write (The fourth chapter is kicking my ass rn). I'm not sure how I am feeling about this chapter? I had like three/four different ideas for it. Sooo I did a 'spin the wheel' and went with what it landed on for this lol. I feel like this is the weakest chapter but it has some charm. Regardless, I hope you all enjoy <3

Reader is implied to be living in the US bc uh TIMEZONES ARE FUCKY and i didnt realize how reliant i was on mine (PST) when looking up KST

Summary: Attempting an all-nighter while playing Animal Crossing alongside your bias, you didn't expect your turnip prices to be such a high amount... nor did you expect Park Seonghwa to actually accept your offer to sell his turnips on your island.

Series Masterlist | Navigation

"I can't tell her, Woo." Seonghwa sighed.

Wooyoung nearly ripped out his hair at the very similar phrase he has heard you tell him before. The others all groaned as they lounged around in the recording room, 10 minutes before they needed to start recording and re-recording lines for their last song on the next album.

It was now February, two months since Seonghwa figured out his feelings towards you that night you fell asleep on video call. He immediately told Wooyoung the next day he had been right and ever since then, the younger has been trying to push Hwa into confessing. He even tried assuring the older male that you most likely returned his feelings without giving away you told Wooyoung you developed a crush on Hwa just a few days before Hwa told him.

Woo's mind thought back to his conversation with you a week ago.

"I don't think he likes me like that, Woo. No matter how much you tell me." He heard you say with a dejected tone through the call. He had snuck away on his own during practice, having the choreography down before the others. "I mean, I met him as a fan. I don't want him to think I offered him to sell turnips for this outcome."

"I don't think he assumes any ulterior motives, (Y/N)." He said softly. "He speaks fondly of you."

"And that's another thing. He is Seonghwa. He is the super kind, very lovable, handsome, and talented guy who loves to mimic his villagers, build Legos, and is an all around great person. It's hard not to fall in love with him... and then there is me. The average looking, college student working at the local bookstore. I feel so inadequate-"

"Hey. Don't speak like that about yourself." He scolded, his tone and facial expression serious. "You are amazing. You are beautiful. You've been a great friend and we all deeply appreciate and love you."

"Sorry." You sigh. "I just... I want to believe you, but it's hard, you know?"

"I get it, I do. Just... keep thinking on it, okay?" Wooyoung smiled sadly. He could see the self-doubt was still eating at you and his words didn't fully penetrate the self-conscious wall you built up. He just hoped you'd keep holding out long enough for him to try and push Seonghwa into confessing.

"Okay, why not then?" Yuhno asked, exasperated.

"It's clear she only views me as a friend. And I am fine with that."

"You don't know that for sure, hyung." San offered a kind smile.

"Are you guys sure (Y/N) likes me like that?" Hwa gave them each a pointed look. Everyone tried arguing that it was clear to them you did, though the only one who knew for sure was Wooyoung. "I... I truly come to appreciate her and every time we speak I feel like I am falling further and further for her. She is sweet, funny, gorgeous, and I feel my heart is always about to burst when talking with her..."

"He's a love sick puppy." Yeosang teased, making everyone chuckle. The eldest's face adorned a bright blush but he made no attempt argue against the notion.

"It's adorable seeing you crush so hard on someone, hyung." Mingi cooed.

"Why not try and talk to her now? It should be..." Hongjoong looked at the time, seeing that it was nearly 10am for them. "... about 6pm for her. Try gauging her feelings for you and bring up wanting her to visit next month for her spring break."

"I don't know..." The eldest unlocked his phone and had your contact pulled up. Wooyoung immediately moved spots and sat next to Seonghwa.

"Seonghwa-hyung, just go for it. We are all here cheering you on." Jongho smiled softly and the others nodded in agreement.

"And its not like your confessing now either. We've told you the signs, now watch for them." Wooyoung added. The others decided to join in on the call, hoping to catch anything that gave away you had feelings for their friend.

Seonghwa took in a deep breath before slowly exhaling as he pressed the call button. He felt two large hands on both shoulders pat him and give a firm squeeze as he slowly extended his arm to make sure everyone could be visible to some extent. He felt anxiety building up with each ring, waiting anxiously for you to pick up.

They all smile when you finally pick up. You were sitting at your desk, adding what looked like the finishing touches of your makeup on your face. You looked at the camera with a small smile before you looked down, picking up a tube of lipstick.

"Hello boys. Usually you text me before you start a call. What's going on?" You ask, eyes flickering to the phone again before you focus on your hand mirror.

Seonghwa felt Wooyoung nudge him off camera. "I wanted to check in on you, (Y/N), and they all decided to join me."

"Aw, really?" Your face seemingly brightened at the fact and the eldest could feel Jongho on his left excitedly tap his leg.

"Compliment her, Hwa." Hongjoong hissed into his ear, a toothy grin was on his face as an attempt to mask any suspicion.

"Did one of you say something?"

"O-oh it must of cut out." Seonghwa nervously chuckled. "I said you look amazing. Is there a special occasion going on?"

You got a bit bashful and smiled, though everyone could tell it didn't fully reach your eyes. "I got asked out on a date."

Seonghwa felt like he was punched in the gut.

But his face remained soft with a smile.

"Really? Who is the person?" He asked, his voice steady.

The others eyed him in concern but did their best to mask it while on video.

"His name is Charlie. He is in my English course this semester. We worked on some in-class assignments together a few times before he asked me out today."

"I'm happy to hear. Well, we better get going. We are about get to recording." Hongjoong could pick up some shakiness in Hwa's voice. "Have fun and please periodically message me, just to give me peace of kind on your safety."

"Thank you, Seonghwa, and I will." You gave them a wave goodbye before hanging up the phone.

It was silent in the room. Seonghwa slowly lowered his arm, resting his phone and hands in his laps. The smile he had dropped just as slowly as he took in a deep, trembling breath.

"Hwa, are you okay?" Hongjoong hesitated, placing his hand on his friends shoulder.

"Yes. I'm fine, Joong." He asserted, getting up from the couch.

"Are you sure?" San asked.

Languidly, the eldest turned to face the rest. Their breaths caught in their throats. His eyes were full of tears, his lips were quivering as he still maintained his smile.

"I told you guys I am just a friend to her. And I will be fine with that." He sniffled, one tear rolling down his cheek. He hastily wiped his cheek with the back of his hand. "Please, lets drop it and get work done today."

"Of course, hyung." Yuhno spoke with a comforting voice and stood up, wrapping an arm around the older males shoulders. "Lets grab some waters together." Carefully, the taller of the two led Hwa out of the room. The second the door closed, everyone exhaled.

"Maybe...Maybe we were wrong." Jongho mumbled.

"No we weren't." Wooyoung insisted, pulling out his phone.

"Wooyoung-" San tried to speak but the younger male kept talking.

"We weren't! (Y/N) told me herself she likes Seongwa!" The others watched as he called you, pressing speakerphone.

The phone rung a few times when they hear the line click.

"It's just me, (Y/N)." Woo gave the others a look to be quiet. "What was that? What do you mean date?"

"Exactly that, Youngie." You sighed, your voice sounding as if it lacked any confidence.

"But you like Seonghwa... You love him."

"... I do." The others in the room looked at each other in shock, their eyes wide.

"Then why did you agree to the date, (Y/N)?"

There was a moment of tense silence before you spoke again, starting your sentence off with a sniffle.

"Because I can't logically believe he likes me the same way. He just see's me as a friend and I just feel so inadequate to be on any level with him." You faltered. "I don't have any particular feelings for Charlie but I... I just wanted to try to get over loving Hwa."

"(Y/N)..."

"I need to get going Woo. I'll... message you tomorrow." Before he could say anything more you hung up.

The room was just as tense as before. No one knew what to say. Wooyoung pressed his lips tightly together as he kept his own tears at bay. When they heard the door open everyone else started getting up and getting ready to start recording. Seonghwa looked to have calmed down. Wooyoung refused to look at his oldest hyung until he could calm down.

---

After the video call with Ateez and the call with Wooyoung, you decided to try to to push any negative thought aside and finish getting ready. You put together a outfit that wasn't too fancy but still looked nice. You styled your hair the way you liked most for things like this. Overall, despite the heavy heart, you felt cute. You left your place with an Uber, figuring you may have something alcoholic to drink, with enough time to get to the restaurant on time, sending a message to Seonghwa letting him know you were heading there...

You glanced at the clock on your phone for the umpteenth time. It had been an hour since your uber dropped you off at the restaurant, 50 minutes since you were sat down at a table, and 35 minutes since that sinking feeling in your gut that you had been stood up started kicking in.

You sighed dejectedly as you finished paying for the meal you ordered. You may have been stood up but you weren't going to let that stop you from a nice meal. Luckily your waitress was kind and nobody paid you much mind. You felt that any pity sent your way would make you feel worse.

You slowly walked outside the restaurant, your phone out as you get ready to order another uber, when you heard loud cackling. Your head turned to the left and just a few cars down in the parking lot was Charlie in a car full of people. They were all laughing and looking at you.

It felt like a bucket of ice water was poured over you.

Ignoring them and the button to confirm the uber, you started walking in the direction of your apartment. You needed to get away. You could feel your chest tightening with humiliation and panic.

"Oh come on, (Y/N). It was a joke!" You heard Charlie yell but you just kept walking. You heard the car roar with life and could hear from their rolled down window various jokes directed at you.

They all cackled and decided that was enough teasing. Charlie then nearly squealed his tires as he drove away. The tears you kept at bay finally spilled over. You hiccupped as you glanced down at your phone. It was 8pm for you, which meant it would be around noon for him.

You didn't think, really. You just knew you needed to hear his low toned, comforting voice. You opened your phone and immediately dialed Seonghwa, pressing your cell to your ear as you walked back to your place. You felt pathetic but you knew you needed to speak to someone or else you would be a sobbing mess if you were left to stew.

---

It was lunch time in the canteen area at KQ when Seonghwa heard his phone ring. His brows furrowed when he saw your name on the screen. He finished his last bite and quickly wiped off any possible crumbs on his hands with a napkin.

"Didn't she leave for her date like an hour ago?" Mingi tilted his head, everyone else had a confused look.

Seonghwa pressed the green answer button and raised his phone to his ear.

"(Y/N)?" His voice with smooth and low. "You're calling me so soon-"

"Seonghwa..." He heard your voice trembling, making him freeze. His face must of gave away to the others something was wrong, as they stared at him intently.

"Hold on, (Y/N). Let me go somewhere private." He quickly got up fron his seat and wasted no time getting into the hallway where there were less people. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"I-I got stood up." You sniffled.

"What?"

"I sat there for an hour looking like a fool. And then... And then I went to leave and I saw him outside in his car with his friends." Seonghwa could feel his blood start to boil with anger. "They laughed at me. They made fun of me." He could hear you take in a shuddering breath.

"Where are you now?"

"I'm walking home..."

"How long until you get back?"

"Maybe... Maybe 10 or 15 more minutes?"

"Stay on the phone with okay? I want to make sure you get home safe." He needed to take deep breaths to stay calm. In the corner of his eye he saw the others leave the canteen, though they stayed back, giving him and you some privacy.

"I just don't get what I did wrong to-"

"You did nothing wrong, (Y/N). Don't start blaming yourself for some asshole's behavior." He glanced to his friends, feel a pinch of confidence. "You are a wonderful person. It's his loss."

There was silence for a moment.

"Did I interrupt work?" You asked in a small voice.

"No, I was just finishing lunch. Did you eat?"

"I had something small after I realized he wasn't showing up." Hwa felt some relief when he heard your voice getting steady. "I'll probably have some ice cream when I get home."

"It better not be mint chocolate chip." He joked and smiled when he heard you giggle. "You really did look amazing, by the way. You should send me and the group chat any selfies if you took any. I'm sure the others would like to see the full look."

"Really?" Your voice was meek.

"I would never lie to you... You truly look beautiful. You always do."

"Thank you, Hwa. I really needed to hear that, especially from you." He could hear your voice tremble again.

"Don't start crying because of me, jagiya." He gently teased, the petname slipping out seamlessly.

"Where are the others?"

"They are watching me down the hallway I'm in." He looked over and saw that they were still there. Wooyoung, San, and Jongho kept their eyes on him while the others were looking at their phones, occasionally looking back at the eldest.

"Am I keeping-"

"I want to be talking with you. They can all wait." Seonghwa huffed, which pulled a giggle from you. He was glad he was able to get you to cheer up, even if it was a miniscule amount. "They are very concerned for you though."

"You can tell them what happened. Woo will bug me when he can until I tell him."

"He is good at that isn't he?"

"Too good." You snort.

There was another moment of silence before Hwa spoke again.

"How close are you to home?"

"Uh..." You pause. "I'm pretty close. I'm passing the park thats nearby. I'll probably be there in two minutes."

"Good." He hummed. "I'm glad you called me."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Besides enjoying the sound of your voice, I am glad you felt comfortable enough during this vulnerable time to reach out to me. It warms my heart."

"I'm glad you answered."

"For you? Always. Well, unless I am on stage or Joong is lecturing us." He couldn't help but beam when he got you to laugh again.

"I see my apartment. I'm walking up to the door now." Hwa heard your keys jingle in your hand. "I'll let you go now. Thank you for everything, Hwa."

"It wasn't a problem at all. I'll check in on you when I have the time okay?"

"You don't have to." He faintly heard you unlocking the door and then heard the door close.

"I want to." He smiled. "Get comfortable, have that ice cream, and smile for me okay, (Y/N)? I'll talk to you soon. Have a goodnight in case you fall asleep."

"Have a good rest of your day, Hwa." There was a lingering pause before you ended the call.

Seonghwa let out a deep sigh, his face dropping into a scowl as he pocketed his phone. The rest of Ateez took that as a sign to approach him. They nearly froze when they saw the angry look on his face.

"I'm going to need one of you to stop me from buying plane tickets right now." Hwa muttered.

"What happened?"

"Why are you so upset?"

"Is (Y/N) okay?"

Were questions all asked at the same time.

"Let's get back to the recording studio first." Hongjoong offered. It took a lot of restraint for them to not run down the hallways.

The second that door closed to the studio, everyone turned to look at Seonghwa, who still looked pissed off. He sat down on the couch staring past the glass that viewed the recording booth. He needed to take a moment to calm himself down.

"Did something happen to our dear (Y/N)?" Wooyoung sat next to the older male, looking at him with desperate eyes.

"She called me crying, saying her date stood her up." Seonghwa finally spoke. Everyone let out shocked noises and some curses. "That's not even the worst of it. She said he and his friends were waiting for her to come outside to make fun of her."

Wooyoung pulled out his cellphone. "I'm buying you and I plane tickets."

"Count me in, I want to beat that guys ass for making her upset." San sat on the other side of Seonghwa.

Hongjoong quickly snatched Wooyoung's phone.

"Hey-!"

"You won't be making a spontaneous trip to her place and you all are definitely not going off to fight this guy." He said, using his captain voice.

"Come on, hyung. It'll be worth it." Jongho tried bargaining but quickly stopped at the look he got from their leader.

"Seonghwa." Seonghwa's attention was on Hongjoong's face after he called his name. "You already did most of your recording today. Unless you want to hang out with those who still need to record and need to re-record, or do some choreography practice with Yuhno, you should head back to the dorm and spend some time with (Y/N)."

"Thank you, Joong." Seonghwa smiled and gathered his belongings.

"We want to spend time with her too." Wooyoung whined.

"Too bad. You're assisting Yuhno after you re-record your lines." The eldest male smiled at his friends playful banter as he left the room.

He quickly fished out his cell and called you as he walked down the hallway. He was heading to his managers office to get home. He wasn't entirely sure if he had the confidence to confess right now, nor did he want to spring on a confession to you after the night you had... but he wanted to let you know he would be there for you. That he would never let you feel less than or alone. That stupid guy lost his chance and Hwa wanted to be the one treasure you. He was going to confess and tonight would be the start to his plan to do so.

"Seonghwa?" Your voice sounded confused when you quickly answered.

"Hongjoong is giving me the rest of the day off. Do you want to watch a movie with me? Or we can play Animal Crossing? Whatever you want, I want to do it with you." He took in a deep breath. "I'll even pick up mint chocolate chip ice cream and we can eat it together."

You laughed. "Sure, I would love that."

There was a pause in the conversation. Seonghwa was now waiting in front of the manager's office.

"I have a question for you, (Y/N)." He wanted to wait for later to ask his question but Seonghwa felt he had the confidence to ask now.

"What is it?"

"You said you took time off work for your spring break next month, right?"

"Yes, I have the Friday before that week off to Monday after it. Why do you ask?"

"Come visit me." He was shocked he got it out.

"What?"

"Come to Korea and visit me. I'll help pay for the flight and you can stay with us at the dorm. Is the issue with your passport?"

"My passport is fine." You sighed and took a moment before speaking again. "Are you sure, Hwa? Are the others okay with that? What about-"

"Everything will be fine. The others, our manager, and I have already discussed this in length and will probably want to discuss with you later."

"Well..." You didn't speak, which had Seonghwa feeling rejection would soon follow. "I would love to."

"...Is this a yes?"

"Yes it is." You chuckled. "I've been actually thinking of planning a visit after I graduate in May, but honestly, the sooner the better."

"Make sure to message the others about this, they'll be so happy." He smiled, unable to hide his excitement. "I am about to leave the office here soon. I will call you when I am back at the dorm."

"Get back safely."

"Of course. I will talk to you soon."

"And- Fuck!" You swore loudly.

"Is something wrong?" Worry seeped into his veins at how your voice sounded.

"I got stung by scorpion while island hopping."

Taglist: @stopeatread@hee0soo@pocketjoong-reads@seonghwaddict@tridkeys

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naomihatake · 1 year

Text

In search of freedom (Ch. 4)

4. One step forward

Chapter 3 ; Chapter 4 ; Chapter 5

⠀⠀⠀⠀She's been searching for freedom her entire life and everytime she thought it was laying right in front of her eyes, she was mistaken. She was running around the East Blue, seeking herself and her dreams, meeting people she never forgot. No matter how much she traveled, she could only catch a glimpse of peace before realizing everything would crumble at her feet.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Maybe it was destiny that brought her on that ship with three strangers — foolishly, that's what she tried to believe when the moon shined beautifully and hope settled in her chest, squeezed by the same ribcage where feelings were blooming.

Pairing: female!reader x OPLA Zoro Roronoa

Warnings for this chapter: fluff, some angst, alcohol

Word count: 3.8k

Theme song: fic spotify playlist (click on the link)

A/N: Tons of interactions between Zoro and reader. Not a long chapter, but I wanted to offer more insight about the reader's past and the relationship she has with her crewmates. I know they travel from Syrup village to Baratie in a day, but I wanted this exact scenario, so let's say it took a half a day longer ;) Not proofread yet.

The reader is referred to as "Witch" because I have no intentions of using "Y/N".

I'm open for comments and opinions! <3

They spent the rest of the day buying supplies for the journey. With no previous discussions, they all came to the conclusion that Nami would handle the berries, with some opinions from the witch who was used to always saving up money.

The witch has loads of information and experience about the map of the stars above, so she decided to save Nami from a sleepless night. She already took a nap after they set sail a few hours before dawn, falling asleep after she laid down on the sofa in the cabin. She completely forgot about her wound, too tired to mind the pain at that time, as if she's got hit in the head again.

Now, she was purposely ignoring the ache. She analyzed the stars for long enough to figure out where they were heading. From Zoro's perspective, the way she counted the stars and figured out the cardinal points was witchy. Realistically, he knew that Nami must've had the same way of figuring out how to sail during the night and not only her, but other sailors as well.

The witch sat on the deck, her back resting against the mast, her head tilted back to gaze up at the stars. The wound stung and it was uncomfortable, but she didn't want to bother herself with cleaning it up. Also, she had no clue where some bandages might be, and she didn't have the energy to go around and ask about it.

Meanwhile, Zoro knocked two times at Nami's door, opening it after receiving a sign he could enter. The navigator was sitting on one of the hanging beds in the room with some notes and maps in her lap.

"Do you know where's some first aid kit?" Zoro asked.

"Hm?" she raised her head at him, frowning. "Did you trip after drinking too much booze and got hurt?"

He rolled his eyes with a sigh.

"I didn't even drink today. Just tell me where it is."

"Should note it down in the calendar," she scoffed with a smile. "There should be one in the chest over there," she pointed at it by tilting her head.

In the corner of the room, under a small desk, was the chest she mentioned. He opened it and found what he was searching for.

"Oh," he heard Nami whispering.

When he looked at her from where he was crouching, she had a shit-eating grin on her face.

"What?"

He was absolutely clueless. The most oblivious man Nami has ever seen and, for the record, they were all oblivious as fuck.

"Nothing," she smiled innocently.

What is she up to? Zoro wondered.

With the first aid kit box in his hand, he got out of the room and walked back to the deck, where the same woman stargazed. His hand was still resting on the hilt of his sword while he stomped on the wooden planks. She hasn't moved one inch, except for the gentle smile that tugged at her lips.

The only source of light was a gas lamp on a barrel close to her and she glowed. He stopped in his tracks to gaze at her the same way she looked up at the sky and he realized quickly that his lungs stopped functioning.

I'll need some booze after this.

He let the kit fall in her lap and he was surprised by the lack of discomfort she showed at his sudden appearance. Each time someone came from behind, he saw her step away or react in some kind of way, be it a grimace on her face or a sharp inhale.

"What's this for?"

"Take a guess," he shook his head.

She was impossible. Did she do it intentionally?

"Shit, I completely forgot about the bandana," her eyes widened in surprise.

She undid the knot of said material as fast as she could, inhaling through her teeth at the sharp pain.

Only then he noticed an unopened bottle of something — he hoped it would sting his throat — sitting to her other side. He sat cross legged and leaned in over her legs to wrap his fingers around the bottle, tugging with his teeth at the cork.

"That was mine," he heard a faint voice complaining.

"It was."

He hid the smirk threatening to show on his face by placing the bottle at his lips, taking some long gulps. The alcohol stung so pleasantly against his tongue and he anticipated a sense of calm once he'd drink enough.

A restrained hiss got his attention. The witch's lips were knitted together and she tried to clean her wound with a wet cotton ball — it was alcohol, he guessed. After swallowing hard, she continued to tap the skin lightly. Her other hand was digging into her thigh, distracting her with another kind of ache. She was obviously concentrating, the reason why she didn't spit out smart remarks at him.

Zoro sighed heavily and let the bottle down with a low thud.

"Will you need stitches?"

"No," she muttered.

If she wouldn't have been hurt, her face would've looked almost cute.

Since when did he start thinking that way about people? It must be the booze.

She seemed relieved when she finished. The next step was to apply some ointment, which was less troubling.

Then, came the impossible task: wrapping her wound with one hand. Since her other upper arm was hurt, she couldn't do it any other way. The wheels before her eyes worked well enough — certainly, there were a few ways she could do that.

It couldn't be that hard, right?

The swordsman by her side achieved inhuman abilities, because telepathy wasn't something that happened naturally. She needed help dressing the wound.

The real issue was will she ask for help?

He didn't know exactly why he wanted to hear her say something. Anything. The smallest word leaving her lips would sound like a yes in his head and he would act accordingly with the alcohol swimming through his veins.

It wasn't in his nature to be so calculated. Nonetheless, exceptions always existed.

He didn't need to be proud about helping her. No, it was far from that. He had another kind of pride and it settled in the scabbards still holding his swords at his hip. Zoro wanted to see how far she'd go until she realized that asking for help wasn't a sin.

"Um," her lips parted.

"Give me the bandages."

He opened his hand for her to place the white material in it.

"I wanted to say that you owe me a bottle of booze," she blinked up at him confused.

He didn't wait for her to give him the bandages, instead, he took them by himself and positioned himself a bit closer. Suddenly, the alcohol seeping in his bones helped more than he guessed the first time he saw the bottle.

Was he holding back his usual strength at that moment? There were no coherent thoughts in his head while he wrapped the white material around her upper arm as gentle as he was capable of. Zoro avoided grazing his fingertips over her skin, but it was impossible any other way, so he found himself in a weird stance: his hand would hold her arm still from time to time while he rolled the bandages.

A cruel mistake was to look into her eyes, which he unfortunately did. The witch was also looking at him. Probably, he should be more grateful about the way her intense gaze didn't falter when it met his own, even if it made his stomach tingle.

He drank too much. Or too little.

There was one way to find out and that would be taking another bottle to drown down his throat.

He was never the one to look away first, be it an enemy or a friendly staring contest. However, he failed that time.

There must've been some potion in that bottle. Otherwise, there was no explanation.

"Thank you."

It was the second time she thanked him in a day. The swordsman didn't see much in these things, but he was genuinely intrigued about the nature of his own gestures. As someone used to actions, questions sounded pointless in between his thoughts. Then, why did he suddenly ask instead of straight up finding out the answer?

Why did he do these things without being asked to?

"Sure," he let out softer than it was meant to be.

He got up and headed to the galley to grab two more bottles of alcohol.

There was a different feeling than the usual duty he felt about people. She didn't need his protection or help, she could perfectly do it all on her own. She skillfully tossed knives through the air and was awfully proud about her abilities, a confident smile on her face.

Zoro never asked, but he guessed she was part of that world long before they appeared in her life. It wasn't possible to follow the rules of the sea unless you sailed before and she conquered the power of water itself.

And the strength of his heart on top of that.

"Zoro!" Luffy's enthusiastic voice beamed. "Let's learn the stars."

"What?"

Wasn't that the reason why Nami and the witch were on that ship? They already knew a lot.

"It's fun! I didn't know there were bears in the night sky!"

"Of course there aren't bears in the sky!" Usopp commented.

"They're just constellations, Luffy," the woman chuckled.

Both of them came to her like curious owls with big eyes, begging her to show them some stars; now, all of them sat on the deck. Of course their supposed captain would learn about anything only to forget half of it the next minute, but the intention mattered, right?

She didn't expect the swordsman to accept Luffy's invitation, but he did so, sitting in the same place he did a minute ago. Only the booze would determine whether or not he'd have enough patience to concentrate.

"Why is it called Ursa Major? Is there another one?" Usopp turned his head.

"Yes: Ursa Minor," she pointed her index finger at the sky above. "The Ursa Major is there, right? They look the same, but the other one is smaller."

The sky was filled with stars and there were so many of them, it was almost impossible to spot a specific one. They sparkled beautifully, as if they smiled back at the pirates eager to learn their names.

"Where, where?" Luffy looked up, confused.

The witch moved her hand to the side and pointed at another constellation.

"Search for the same figure, but in smaller form."

"Fount it!" Luffy and Usopp exclaimed in unison.

She let out another soft chuckle and the swordsman paid more attention to that lovely sound than the stars she mentioned.

"See the tip of the bear's tail? That is its brightest star and it's called the North Star. Whenever you point towards the spot on the horizon directly below it, it means you're pointing north."

Luffy's lips were opened in surprise while he looked at the sky.

"So you're also a navigator!"

"Just because I'm better than Zoro at directions doesn't mean I'm a navigator," she joked lightly.

"I think you're overdoing it," the swordsman huffed.

"That's why you were so late?!"

Usopp was already cackling.

"The mansion was in front of your eyes and you still decided to go the other way," she nudged at him.

"I was just checking around," he muttered between gritted teeth.

"You're so bad at lying, Zoro," Luffy teased him.

Their captain and the sniper were laughing colorfully, until tears gathered on top of their lashes. The sound was accompanied by the same reaction coming from the witch, who was unaware of the palm she placed on Zoro's shoulder, while the other hand was holding onto her stomach.

However, the swordsman was hyper aware about it. It warmed him up almost as pleasantly as the booze, but it was a foreign sensation settling into his stomach. Those gentle fingers that wielded knives and had been dirtied by blood touched him and he didn't have an ounce of will within to push her away.

It's just a touch, what am I getting so worked up for?

"We just need to find a musician and the crew is complete!" Luffy smiled brightly.

The witch's hand dropped from Zoro's shoulder, gripping at one of the bottles he brought with him.

"I can sing," she whispered as if it was meant to be only for herself.

"I can dance!" Usopp grinned. "Guys, you have no idea how I was the star of countless parties! Captain, you have everyone you need right here."

Before the Straw Hat could say anything, the witch opened her bottle.

"With a guitar, Luffy, otherwise I won't start disturbing the fish in the sea," she let out a short sigh.

"If we find a guitar at our next destination, do you promise to play the guitar?"

The puppy eyes boring holes into her forehead couldn't be ignored so easily. Defeated, she nodded and took a long gulp from the bottle.

"Great!"

And with that, Luffy got to his feet, his chin tilted down to look at his friends.

"Good luck with the night watch."

"I'll come to watch over you, Luffy," Usopp solemnly touched his heart. "Who knows when an enemy will sneak in. I need to be prepared and protect my friends!"

"So tonight we find out about your snoring habits," the swordsman arched his eyebrow.

"I don't snore!" he frowned while he walked side by side with Luffy.

"Good night, you two," the witch smiled in their direction.

Zoro continued drinking from the bottle in his hand, the first one he picked up already empty, sitting by his side. The witch had far less resistance than him and none of them got some well deserved sleep in the last two days. He acknowledged the proximity between him and the woman sitting at his right, but annoyance crawled up his throat — why he wanted to be near her was beyond him.

"For how long have you been on a ship?" he wondered out loud.

"Is it obvious it's not my first time?"

They turned towards each other at the same time, locking gazes the same way they did when he bandaged her wound. At least that time there was a plausible and logical reason — one he created on the spot. The second time it happened, he was just pulled towards her like a magnet.

And maybe they were not exactly opposites nor each other's mirror, but they always found themselves in the presence of the other.

"This can't be your first journey on the sea," he shrugged. "You're not scared at all."

"Did you just imply that I'm scared of water?" she cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Then are you scared of land? You were damn anxious back in Syrup Village."

The witch crossed her arms under her chest in a defensive manner.

"It was my intuition."

"You were losing your shit."

His teasing comment received a wide-eyed stare from her.

"That's not true."

Her lips were pulled in a thin line right after and she averted her eyes, looking back at the stars. She was searching for the right words to tell him lame stories she was fond of.

"I'm used to sailing, yeah. Was part of a crew for almost two years and then left because I couldn't find my place there. It was my father's crew."

"So it runs in the family."

"Kind of," a sour smile creeped on her lips. "My mother hated pirates. How come she married one? He didn't become a pirate until years later."

After another long glance towards a constellation she just noticed, she brought the bottle to her lips and gulped down until half of the bottle was gone. The memories flowing back always left a bad taste in her mouth, a sensation she wanted to fight against with some more alcohol.

"And you are a pirate."

The conclusion was obvious.

"I don't think I have to say it out loud, do I?"

The sad smile on her lips didn't falter. The spoken admission that her mother hated her guts for choosing the same life as her father would've hurt more than the silence that spoke for itself. Memories sucked her into the past like a water vortex in the middle of the sea.

"What do you mean by 'I'm leaving in the morning?" her mother had furrowed her eyebrows at her.

The tension could've been cut through with the knife resting against the young girl's hip. She resembled her father too well: they walked the same, they had the same gaze and far too similar weapons.

Before her mother's eyes wasn't standing a daughter anymore, but a pirate, monsters she hated from the bottom of her heart. Cruel, ruthless, merciless monsters with no hearts. People with egos bigger than their bounties and strength that could wipe away entire islands.

Demons.

Her daughter has become a demon.

"You're talking after your monster of a father," her mother spat out after slapping the table with her palm.

"We both know he was more humane than you."

"Where did you learn such words from, girl?!"

"You."

The witch was still standing in front of the door with a bag hung over her right shoulder. A merely sixteen years old with fire burning in her irises.

"He's a criminal and a thief on top of it! A liar! A betrayer!" the woman's voice rose higher, threatening to break glass.

"Maybe you didn't agree with his living style, but he's never done anything to us! The sea is a battlefield, it's kill or get—"

"I've heard that excuse coming from him countless times, I don't need you to quote that man!"

"If he is just 'a man' for you, just know that he was always more of a father for me than you were a mother."

A sharp sound bounced off the walls and the young witch's cheek stung after the woman's hand flew across her face. Her head turned to the side, but no whimper left her lips.

"I dare you to say that again. As if you didn't live under my rooftop ever since he became a pirate — a monster."

The young girl used to be bold even at that time. Her left cheek ached painfully, but it didn't stop the fire from burning. No, it was like pouring gasoline over it, thinking it would stop.

She turned her head towards her mother and rolled her shoulders back, eyes boring holes into her forehead.

"He was a better father than you were a mother."

A stable voice and clear words filled with venom to the brim. She didn't falter, nails digging into her palms as she tried to contain her anger — her hatred.

"Is that what you wanted to hear? You lack self awareness, mom. You seem to forget about the times when you'd tell me I'll become a failure just like him. You intentionally brush aside the speeches you gave me about how no matter what I wish for, I have to just suck it up and accept the fact that all I will ever be is an obedient girl. I'm not obedient and I'm not a girl — I'm a pirate. No one on the sea cares whether or not I'm a woman."

"These are fairy tales for children! You won't be able to survive for longer than a day. You will come back crawling at me and I'll remind you who was right!"

"See? Exactly what I was saying. You're just proving my points and yet you cease to realize. Everytime you hit me, everytime you degrade me, every single time when you want to show me you have power over me — all of these are pointless."

A reckless teenager grasping for the first time at the notion of freedom after mourning her deceased father for five days. A flame learning how to burn.

She made one step closer, the furrow between her eyebrows deepening.

"Kill me. You've always craved seeing my father dead, didn't you? Why don't you kill me too? Wouldn't that make you happy? I bet it would, since you always acted like it."

Words could hurt and she learnt it from her mother, it seemed like. She's never heard someone use words like she wielded knives better than that woman and that time it backfired.

Before she even realized it, the bottle her fingers gripped at was almost empty, making it easier for tears to gather in the corners of her eyes. She's been silent for so long and Zoro glanced at her from his peripheral.

"And him?"

"Been dead for three years. I became a part of his crew right after. It didn't make any sense to continue living in my hometown any longer. They're like a shadow ship — they refused to give the title of Captain to someone else, even if technically the one in command now is the Vice Captain. Whenever they need to make a decision, they think of what their deceased Captain would've done."

The swordsman by her side crossed his arm over his chest and grinned.

"That's one hell of a loyal crew."

They were my family, even if they would drink late in the night and have awful cooking skills. They would laugh and offer me advice, they taught me what a pirate's pride is about.

"You still seem regretful."

The witch turned her head towards Zoro and he swore he'd never seen so many emotions flowing in those beautiful eyes of hers. They glowed with golden sparkles hence the gas lamp. There laid honesty and fierceness, a human who turned against its nature and decided to go further.

"I never regretted leaving. I don't regret any of it. Maybe there were things I shouldn't have said or done. I could've been kinder, less revengeful. If I am to be honest, despite being aware of the consequences and effects of my actions, I don't regret it. It can't be undone and there's no place for apologies when I meant what I said."

"The crew scolded you."

It wasn't a question, but a statement. Obviously, the crew was formed by men and a few women past twenty. They had more life experience than her.

"A little bit. They were, indeed, more mature than me," her head turned towards the horizon again.

Vague and cryptic answers, harder to decipher than Poneglyphs. However, Zoro wasn't an archeologist and he didn't ask for more than she was able to share, which made her shoulder relax. The witch didn't even notice when she tensed up.

He stretched out his legs from their crossed position and leaned better against the barrel. It seemed like the pirate hunter didn't have any intention of leaving the deck.

Their shoulders remained close and none of them moved closer or farther away. Both of them were content with burning a little more before admitting the truth even to themselves.

Tag list: @emelia07 @dimplewonie @tfamidoingwithmylife @murnsondock @the-skys-musical-echo @conspiracy-crows @hallow33nz @ramae17 @gaslysainz @bunntsu @katt58 @katiemrty @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @freyademartel @boofy1998 @ponyboys-sunsets @melsunshine @loveyluv7 @waddlingwanderer

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m3-kk · 6 months

Text

Sharing my TCF notes because sharing is caring 😬 ⬇️. (All of them… so far)

Ch. 086- sad time for Raon :(. REVENGE HAHAHA LETSGOOOO

Ch. 335- Eruhaben protect Roan & Cale from ugly WS 😆

Ch. 352- Cale’s greatest fear…😭

Ch. 378- Choi’s uncle (DS) left info book written in KOREAN?!?! 😵

Ch. 394- Letter from Death & shiz show😬

Ch. 395- CALE IS AFRAID?!?! 😱

Ch. 401- “Plavin was laughing on the outside but crying on the inside.”😌

Ch. 404- “And Miss Cage, please cuss out the God of Death for me.” -Cale 😇

Ch. 411- They were talking about the Lion King (person) and I thought they were talking about the movie 😭

Ch. 414- Choi Han woke up crying “Kim Rook Soo” 😰

Ch. 415- “What am I supposed to call the friend of my nephew once removed?” -Choi Han 😳

Ch. 423- “Oh, by the way, the original owner of your body is living well too. He said he is happy.” -Lee Soo Hyuk ☺️

Ch. 423- CALE CRIES! BABY NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! 😰

“It's a new record! You were unconscious for 20 days, 1 hour, 32 minutes, and 19 seconds!”- Roan Miru🤠

Ch. 431-

“You son of a bitch!” -Bear King

"Why am I your son? Such an idiot.”

-Whale Archie🫡

Ch. 434- Which Henituse sibling wants to become what?🥱👑⚔️

Ch. 435- Sworn brothers 🤞

Ch. 455- Ron says he has a cute young master (Cale) who he doesn’t want to disappoint.🥹

Also that Roan is cuter than Cale 😂

Ch. 457- “This is nice.” Beacrox commented before swinging his greatsword horizontally.🙂

Ch. 461- Cale’s merchant name is Bob XD

Ch. 465- The Sound of the Wind was a top underneath a boulder surrounded by whirlpools.

The Indestructible Shield was a pit under the tree.

The Scary Giant Cobblestone was a stone in the Super Rock villa.

The Fire of Destruction was a sculpture at the center of the magma.

The Vitality of the Heart was a stone pillar at the center of a whirlwind.

The Sky Eating Water was a chained spear.

Ch. 476- More Dragon Family Drama wtf

Ch. 481- To the Fake World Tree

Ch. 501- Illusion of Other World..RAMEN!

Ch. 504- Stick from World Tree (Cale’s blood is special?!)

Ch. 515- Vampire Duke Fredo (seems nice)

Ch. 516- Demonic Race, Rosalyn, White Star after cookie prince?! NOOO

Ch. 520- WEAKLING. Alberu is a mage swordsman badass dark elf

Ch. 526- These brothers are so cute OMEGALUL

Ch.555- Sealed god test, wtf this is so sad I’m crying I’ve never been so genuinely sad

Ch. 559- CHOI HAN OUR LOVE THANKS🙏

Ch. 581- AWW BESTIEEE

Ch. 584- Cale saying he could beat 3 strong peeps

Ch. 589- Alberu goes to Blood Boulder

Ch. 601- AHH CALE BDAY AHHH

Ch. 612- THEY GAVE ALBERU A GUN!!

Ch. 618- Cale explains to LeeSooHyuk the truth

Ch. 622- HOMEEEEEEEE AYYAYAAY

Ch. 627- @Capital w/ Dad y Alberu YAY

Ch. 628- BUBBLEGUM PINK DRAGON

Ch. 629- We are a big family!

Ch. 631- 5 FUCKIN DRAGONS AHHH-

[THE AUTHOR STARTS SAYING SHIT LIKE “IN THE FUTURE.. “ LIKE F U MAKIN ME ALL SAPPY N STUFF WTH UGHHH!!!]

Ch. 640- 2 Cats are Molan house’s future 🥹.. They can’t go berserk?..

Ch. 645- Roan & Cale Solo Fight letsgo!!

Ch. 646- Cale uses ‘instant’ to destroy 2 unranked monsters.. I’m crying actually..

Ch. 647- wtf I’m crying, goosebumps fr

Ch. 649- Roan has grown so much 🥹

Ch. 652- COM. WITH EARTH 2 AHHHH—

Ch. 655- Cale is healing❤️ OG Cale!KRS

Ch. 656- SOO much info from OG Cale!!

Ch. 658- CALE IS AWAKEEE YAYA

Ch. 662- OMG Cale’s BioMom was cooking

Ch. 663- WE KNOW HOW TO KILL HIM HA

Ch. 670- World Tree-nim

Ch. 677- Explaining ALOT lore dump!!

CB. 681- WOW the end of that chap tho

Ch. 682- I stan Cale’s hatred for the White Star. We love the PJs! Alberu is moon that’s so *legs in air kicking*

Ch. 683- So are we gonna kill WS or whatt?

Ch. 684- HAHAH OMG CALE’S BDR POWER IS SO SCARY EVERYONE THINKS ITS THE WS!! HAHAH ITS CALE’S THOOO

Ch. 685- omg.. DANGGG!! Our Cale is truly terrifying! New Pokémon acquired! White star!! 😏 wait we have a tiny WS in our pocket how cute! 🥰

Ch. 686- HAHA BOOM BOOM 💥

Ch. 688- Rashell says he wouldn’t be able to sleep if many humans died 🥰

Ch. 689- ROCK SHEILD LETSGOOO

Ch. 694- DEAFEATED! Alberu faints and thinks he’s like Cale now 😭

Ch. 695- NAHH WE LOVEEE

Ch. 699- ENTERED THE TEMPLE! We can’t leave…? CALE IS GHOST AND WATCHING OTHERS TESTS HUHHH?!! (DespairTest2)

Ch. 700- This chapter is just amazing, these people are so smart ughhh I’m screaming! In a happy way tho

Ch. 701- OK we have Choi Han, Clopeh, Rosalyn and Cale so far.. MARYYY

Ch. 702- +1(Roan) Cale can use the cintamani to contact other world. PEOPLE CAN SEE HIM YAY!

Ch. 705- Talking with Cale & others through the Cintamani :>

Ch. 706- Tonka! And Dark elf Tasha&Alberu

Ch. 707- My heart, Alberu was so sad and lonely back then…

Ch. 709- Eruhaben! WS is badddd

Ch. 710- Whyyyy I’m actually feeling despair it’s so complicated ugh and no ones receiving correct info ughhhhh

Ch. 713- Mary is #GIRLBOSS for not being tricked! ❤️❤️

Ch. 717- So glad that was settled 😮‍💨

Ch. 718- So the test Cale was in wasn’t the original one so now we are doing the actual sadness test ok 👍

Ch. 719- WOW NOT CALE ALREADY FINISHING BLUE TEST.. also someone else?

Ch. 721- Toonka left the test, Cale met Choi Jung Gun, I’m I’m scared 😶

Ch. 722- Rosalyn finally put the tests goals into words! She’s so smart. I love herrr

Ch. 726- Cale confronts CJG and he’s being used as bait bc a hunter is here oh no. Cale is going to cause chaos ialrk

Ch. 727- WOWW Cale was about to be isekaied lol. Good thing we have ancient powers! 2 Hunters?! 🫣

Ch. 730- Cale actually skipped a level bfr

Ch. 731- Cale has to observe past Roan (during the night) and Alberu (during the day)

Ch. 732- FLIPPING OVER THE FIRST PRINCES PALACE HAHAHAHAGA

Ch. 735- Freeing Roan! Again Again?

Ch. 739- Still loving how Choi’s test is taking care of tiny KRS. Alberu test completed!!

Ch. 740- I’m loving Clopeh during this test so far. He knows his goals and he sticks to them. He’s crazy!

Ch. 744- Damn Dodam Miru. I think DM’s world is not an illusion. Cale “tricking” the Wrath test is crazy I love that sly bastard!

Ch. 745- Cale hates when the children hate their side dishes ahah! The Wrath test is actually really difficult it surprised me frfr! Clopeh & Cale are angy

Ch. 749- How dare this low-life Dorph ever consider sacrificing the great and mighty Roan Miru. I pour all of my hatred and anger toward him. He needs to die. 😡

Ch. 750- Finally! Flipping every over heh!

#cale henituse #tcf cale #tcf novel #lcf #lout of the count’s family #trash of the count's family #notes #sharing is caring #Me_Kk

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weemssapphic · 1 year

Text

in my head (series)

Chapter Twelve: in my head

Larissa Weems x f!reader

previous chapter | series page

words: ~3.7k, ao3 link

chapter-specific warnings/content: mentions of alcohol, nsfw (smut) - cunnilingus, fingering, tribbing, praise kink

chapter summary: An evening with Larissa cements the love you share for one another.

A/N: Welp. It's here. The last chapter. I am very sad to see this fic come to end - I will miss our lesbian idiots dearly <3 huge thank you once again to @afeatherformills and to my lovely girlfriend for being here for the whole journey to beta for me, and thank you so much to everyone who has read, interacted with, and supported this fic - I appreciate you so much!!

Larissa Weems looked stunning that afternoon, like straight out of a fashion magazine; hair and makeup styled to perfection - there was no doubt about that. But there was something about Larissa now as she stepped out of her bathroom - face fresh and devoid of makeup, damp hair down from its usual updo and hanging over her shoulders, clad in a t-shirt and drawstring shorts - that made your heart beat faster and your stomach flutter pleasantly.

You were sitting on her bed, towel drying your hair, wearing only an oversized t-shirt of Larissa’s and your underwear. Larissa approached the bed, standing in between your legs and running her hands over your bare thighs as she leaned in for a kiss.

“Can I interest you in a glass of wine?” Larissa husked. At your confirmation, she disappeared into the kitchen, returning shortly thereafter with two glasses and a bottle of red.

“You said something about looking at photo albums?” you suggested innocently as Larissa began to pour the wine. She stilled in her movements, glancing over at you, her expression unreadable. You pouted, batting your eyelashes for good measure. “Only if you want to, of course.”

“How am I supposed to say no to that face?” she said with an exasperated sigh, though her lips curved into a smile that gave her away. “Very well, let me find them.”

That’s how the two of you found yourselves sprawled across the rug that adorned Larissa’s bedroom floor, photo albums and stacks of photos surrounding you as you sipped your wine and listened to Larissa talk about her childhood. Raindrops pelted the windows and dark clouds cast a shadow over the little apartment, which was illuminated only by the warm glow of various odd lamps.

“I didn’t know you were so sentimental,” you teased, gesturing to the many albums that littered the floor.

“I like to keep records, I suppose,” Larissa mused with a sip of her wine. “I don’t have much contact with my family so it’s nice to have the photos.”

You hummed in appreciation, watching Larissa’s face as she flipped through one of the leather-bound albums.

“This one was taken at my seventh birthday party,” she said, poking a red-tipped finger at a black-and-white photo of a young girl blowing out the candles atop a decadent cake. Her pale blonde hair fell in loose curls onto the girl’s shoulders, bright eyes were trained on the lit candles as her chubby cheeks puffed out.

“Your cheeks!” you squealed, earning yourself an eye roll from the woman beside you. You reached out to pinch her cheek, but she playfully slapped your hand away before you could accomplish your goal.

“Try that again and I’m putting these away - no more photos for you,” she warned, a teasing lilt to her voice.

“Fine,” you huffed, dropping your arm back down to your side.

“Good girl,” Larissa purred seductively, and a heat began to spread through your entire body, your cheeks blazing. You turned your head and took a sip of your wine.

She began to flick idly through pages upon pages of photos, some of herself, some of various strangers who you assumed to be family members. “These are my parents.” A photo of two adults - a man and a woman - with a young Larissa, possibly around twelve or so, sandwiched between them. The photo felt very formal - it looked like it could have been taken in front of a church on Easter Sunday or something of that nature. Larissa was already starting to grow - she’d almost reached her mother’s height.

She’d gotten her hair and her eyes from her mother, that much was certain - the woman standing next to her was the picture of a bombshell blonde, dressed similarly to how Larissa might dress now, in a formal skirt and a blouse. Her hair was done up and she wore a string of pearls around her neck, smiling haughtily at the camera.

The rest of Larissa was clearly her father though - he had a kind smile, the same high cheekbones as Larissa. He was a tall man - that was clearly where Larissa got her towering height from. The slight dent in his nose mirrored Larissa’s, and his eyes crinkled at the outer corners as he beamed at the camera, reminding you so much of the woman you adored.

“You look so much like him,” you murmured. “He would’ve been really proud of you, you know?”

Larissa smiled. “I know.”

~~~

As the evening wore on you ended up lying side-by-side on your bellies, shoulders touching, wine glasses empty. You felt like you were getting to know a new side of Larissa through the photos - Larissa with her parents at Christmas, Larissa playing with her cousins as a child, Larissa on vacation at the sea, Larissa as a teenager with classmates at Nevermore.

Without thinking, you reached for the wine and took a swig straight out of the bottle. You held it out to Larissa, who took it without question. Her fingers brushed against yours and it might’ve been the alcohol, or the sentimental mood that clung to the air around you, or the depth of emotion swirling in Larissa’s bright, sapphire eyes, but you suddenly felt warm all over.

You watched, your arousal growing by the second, as Larissa’s lips parted to sip the wine from the bottle, as her throat bobbed, as her pink tongue darted out to lick a stray drop of wine from her upper lip. She passed the bottle back to you and flipped the page of the photo album.

“This one was taken before the concert.” It was a photo of Larissa and her father, standing in the hallway of an unfamiliar house - probably the residence of her family in London. Both of them were beaming at each other, caught in a candid moment, bright smiles stretching from ear-to-ear - she looked happier here than in any of the other pictures. You could feel the love between the two of them radiating off the glossy page.

You turned your head to look at Larissa. She was staring down at the photo, a deep crease forming between her eyebrows. Taking her chin between your fingers, you turned her head towards you, her eyes reluctantly leaving the page to meet yours. You leaned in, your lips meeting the spot between her brows, softly kissing the creased skin. When you pulled away, you could see her eyes had fluttered shut. The crease was all but gone, her entire face relaxing.

“Would it be alright if I kiss you now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’d be upset if you didn’t,” she murmured, opening her eyes which landed immediately on your lips.

“We wouldn’t want that, would we?” You smirked and Larissa shook her head gently as you leaned in once more, this time pressing your lips to her own. They were soft and pillowy, and the kiss was tender and emotional - you tried to convey everything you wanted to say to her, all the words that died in your throat, all the love and care that you felt for her. And you felt, with the way that she kissed you back, that she understood.

Your hand moved from her chin to the nape of her neck, gently tangling itself in long tresses. She sighed into your mouth, twisting her body so that she was propped up on her side and could pull you closer by the waist.

You could feel desire coursing through your veins, thrumming deep within you as you kissed Larissa with unmatched ferocity, desperate to show her how much she meant to you.

This time, Larissa was the one to slow you down - she pulled back, breathless. “Darling, I-” She hesitated, seeming to struggle for words. Then, softly: “Let me take care of you tonight. Like you’ve taken care of me.”

You surged to claim her lips, letting out a desperate whimper into her mouth which she immediately swallowed as she deepened the kiss. Her hand slid down to your hip and rucked up your shirt, slipping underneath it and caressing the bare skin of your waist.

“Riss,” you mumbled into the kiss as you felt her shift next to you, moving into a seated position and pulling you with her.

“Yes, love?” She had both hands under your shirt now, fingers tracing every inch of skin as she pushed your shirt up higher and higher, until it was pulled over your head and tossed to the side.

“Please.” You didn’t know what you were asking for, but Larissa seemed to. She stood, pulling you with her, her lips chasing every inch of skin she could reach. She pushed you gently backwards onto the bed, leaning over you and tugging down your underwear.

Her lips found your pulse point, soft kisses turning into gentle nips and lighting a fire in your abdomen.

“I want to see you,” you whined through your lustful haze, roughly pushing at Larissa’s shirt.

You could feel Larissa smile against your neck, her teeth grazing the tender flesh. She stood, making a show of pulling her shirt over her head and exposing her chest - smirking at your sharp intake of breath. Tugging at the drawstring of her shorts, she pushed them over the swell of her hips and allowed them to drop down her long, long legs, exposing her soft, creamy thighs. Her underwear followed and then she was hovering over you again, straddling you, her eyes dark and filled with lust as she met your gaze.

“Darling,” she purred. “You make me so wet.” You were about to reach your hand down to feel her when she swiftly grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand. Then you felt the little curls on her mound tickle your abdomen, before Larissa lowered her cunt fully onto your stomach. Her lips parted as she did so, a small gasp escaping her throat and mixing with the moan you let out as you felt her slick soak your skin.

Larissa began to rub herself against you, rolling her hips to gain friction against her swollen clit. She held your gaze the entire time, watching your pupils dilate as you stared into her face. It was impossibly hot, this stunning goddess using your body to pleasure herself.

You could feel your own arousal drip down your inner thighs as you watched Larissa’s eyes roll back in her head, breathy moans spilling from her kiss-swollen lips.

“You like this, don’t you?” she teased as her movements became more urgent. You nodded vigorously, only to be met with a raised eyebrow. “Be a good girl and use your words, love.”

“Y-yes,” you replied, swallowing thickly. “God, Riss, you’re so hot.”

Larissa hummed, her chest pink and heaving slightly as she rutted against your stomach. Her grip on your hands loosened as she got closer to the edge, and you used the opportunity to hold onto her waist and guide her movements.

She came with a soft cry - her thighs trembled and her eyes screwed shut as she rode your stomach. Her body became heavier atop yours as she came down from her high, and you gently stroked her hip bones with your thumbs as you watched her regain her breath.

“Gorgeous,” you murmured, and Larissa’s eyes fluttered open to look down at you. She shifted her weight onto her knees, whimpering at the loss of friction against her heat, then leaned down to press her lips to yours.

A plethora of warm, wet kisses were placed down your throat, your collarbones, your sternum, until Larissa’s lips reached your stomach. She looked up at you through soft, blonde lashes, barely a sliver of sapphire visible around her widened pupils as she stretched out her tongue and licked up the remnants of her arousal from your skin.

Her tongue was like velvet as she happily chased her own juices - you groaned, burying your hands in her hair. Her hands reached up to fondle your breasts, thumbs flicking over your nipples until they were almost painfully hard. “Please,” you mumbled, squirming underneath her as you felt your clit throb and your walls clench around nothing. Larissa resumed her trail of kisses, reaching your hip bones, the soft curls between your thighs, littering your inner thighs with kisses and bites that would surely leave tiny red marks in their wake.

Finally, finally, her tongue found your soaked folds, dragging a slow path up to your clit.

“You taste divine, my love,” Larissa moaned, before closing her lips around your clit and sucking gently. Your hands tightened in her hair as you began to buck your hips against her mouth.

“That’s it.” She explored your folds, lapping hungrily at your arousal. “So pretty for me, so perfect.” Her hands held onto your thighs, which trembled with your increasing desire. She dipped her tongue lightly into your entrance, drawing a soft moan from your throat.

“C-can you… go inside?” you panted. Larissa hummed in acknowledgement, her tongue finding your clit once more as she gently teased your entrance with a finger. Slowly and gently she pushed the digit inside, allowing you to get used to the sensation for a moment before beginning to move in and out at a tantalizing pace.

“Fuck, Ris-sa,” you mewled as she curled her finger into your sweet spot, simultaneously flicking her tongue across your throbbing bundle of nerves. You squeezed your eyes shut, allowing yourself to get lost in the heavenly shocks that were coursing through your body.

Larissa added another finger, stretching you out and eliciting a deep groan from your chest. Your walls fluttered and contracted, as if trying to pull her in even deeper as she thrust in and out of you, her pace steady and languid.

“Look at me, darling,” she commanded, her tone low and raspy. With some effort, you opened your eyes and looked down the length of your body, your gaze meeting Larissa’s. The sight of her between your legs, lapping hungrily at your pussy while she peered up at you with doe-eyes, pupils wide with desire - it was nearly enough to send you over the edge.

Without breaking eye contact, Larissa allowed her teeth to graze your clit as she curled her fingers just right - you whined in response, fisting at the bed sheets for dear life.

“Keep looking at me,” she said firmly as your eyes threatened to shut again. You felt your breathing quicken in time with the increased pace of Larissa’s fingers and you forced yourself to keep your eyes open.

“Good girl.”

Her words drew a moan from your throat - you could feel your thighs begin to close around Larissa’s head, the coil in your abdomen seconds away from snapping. “C-can I… please…”

Larissa responded by sucking fervently at your clit, giving you a slight nod and coyly batting her eyelashes. One last curl of her fingers and you were sent over the edge, your entire body tensing as your walls clenched around Larissa’s fingers and your back arched off the bed. A rush of euphoria flooded your body as you watched Larissa watch you, her eyes hooded, her fingers flexing against your thighs.

Your eyes fluttered shut of their own accord as you felt yourself sinking into the mattress, the tension slowly leaving your body. You were vaguely aware of Larissa’s fingers sliding out of you, her tongue soothing over your folds and your inner thighs. You felt her move, the mattress dipping next to you as she settled by your side and pulled you closer to her, pulling your head onto her chest.

One of Larissa’s arms wound around you, enveloping you in her warmth. Her other hand rested on your hip, fingers tracing soothing patterns across your skin as your breathing slowly evened out. Tonight you relished in the feeling of Larissa’s bare skin pressed against your own, nuzzling your head into her chest, allowing yourself to completely let go - it would be the first time you knew you could stay, and a deep calm spread throughout your body at the realization.

“Can I ask you something?” Larissa’s voice was soft and thoughtful, her chest vibrating slightly with every syllable.

You hummed and opened your eyes, mind still foggy as you twisted slightly in her grip in order to better see her face.

“What was Miss Sinclair talking about earlier? When she said something about you reading Miss Addams’ mind?”

You tensed, hesitating for a moment. You didn’t think Larissa would ever judge you for your ability per se, but conversations about your mind reading had never really gone particularly well in past relationships. When you began to speak, you avoided her eyes, feigning great interest in a loose thread on the bed sheets.

“Enid came to see me last week. Wednesday was ignoring her and she needed advice. She asked if I would read Wednesday’s mind for her, see what she was thinking.” Larissa watched you contemplatively.

“I didn’t, of course, I would never do that,” you added hastily as Larissa opened her mouth to speak, your cheeks burning for a reason you couldn’t quite place. Maybe you worried she would think you an unfit teacher. Maybe you worried she would come to distrust you. Maybe you worried she would think you’d read her mind without permission.

“I don’t think you would do that,” she said gently, brushing a lock of hair off your cheek and tucking it behind your ear. “I do have another question, though.”

“Okay?” You furrowed your brows, trying to stop your mind from jumping to the worst possible conclusions as it tended to do.

“You don’t use your ability often, do you?” Larissa’s voice was low and her fingers never let up in tracing soothing patterns all over your hip.

“No… More so when I was younger, unintentionally though. It’s… not exactly ethical to read someone’s mind without consent, and I haven’t found many people who are eager for me to search every crevice of their brain.” You tried for some dry humor, smiling wryly, but Larissa didn’t laugh - she simply looked pensively back at you.

“Is that hard for you?” she murmured finally.

“Pardon?”

“Is it hard? Neglecting a part of yourself like that?”

No one had ever asked you such a thing. Was it hard? You hadn’t spent much time considering that - usually, you were more concerned with the morality of what you were doing - as a child, it had been hard to control, though it had gotten easier as you’d aged. The few times you used your ability as an adult had left you feeling guilty and ashamed (well, aside from that waiter when you’d gone out with Larissa, though you could’ve done without the obscene visuals you’d gotten from that).

“I guess? I haven’t thought about it that way. Sometimes it feels like… like a blind spot? Or like a muscle that hasn’t been stretched in a long time.”

“That feels… unfair.”

You shrugged, choosing to play with a lock of Larissa’s hair, twirling it around your finger. She fell silent for a time after that, seemingly deep in thought.

“Does it bother you?” you asked quietly, afraid of the answer.

“Hmm?” Larissa stilled in her ministrations for a moment, looking genuinely confused.

“Does it bother you that I could read your mind, if I wanted to?”

“Not at all,” she said firmly. “I trust you.”

Then she hesitated.

“What if I wanted you to read my mind? Right now?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Larissa, I can’t-”

“Can’t or won’t? I just told you you could.”

You searched Larissa’s eyes, finding nothing but fierce determination.

“Okay.” You sighed, trying to concentrate, holding eye contact with Larissa as you did so. Her mind was unbelievably calm, only one thought repeating like a mantra:

I love you.

Quickly pulling out of her mind, you couldn’t help but stare at Larissa in shock. “Riss?” you whispered, your voice impossibly small. Larissa licked her lips nervously, her eyes flicking between yours.

Warmth flooded your body. Larissa trusted you, enough to allow you to see inside her mind. Larissa loved you. The revelation was everything you could’ve ever hoped for and more.

“I-I love you, too, Riss.”

The smile that unfurled on Larissa’s face was blinding as she closed the gap between you two and pressed her lips to yours. “I love you,” she murmured against your lips. “Maybe it’s too early but at the same time I have the feeling we’ve always been together…”

Deepening the kiss, you pulled Larissa closer, until she was almost on top of you. You didn’t pull away until your brain was begging you for oxygen.

“Thank you. For trusting me like that. I promise I will never take it for granted.”

Larissa rested her chin on your chest, looking up at you through long lashes, her eyes the brightest blue you’d ever seen. “Your ability is not something to be ashamed of, darling. I believe I recall you helping me feel less ashamed of my own.” Pure adoration was woven into her smile, flooding your heart with a surge of love for the shapeshifter.

You had never felt more understood, more wholly loved than in this moment - you hoped you could provide Larissa with the same feelings of love, understanding, safety, warmth, that were all flooding your heart. Judging by the way she snuggled in closer, the content expression on her face as her eyes fluttered shut, burying her face in your neck and gripping your waist tightly - you would say she felt the same.

“Darling?” Her voice was thick and raspy - she was clearly fighting sleep.

“Hmm?”

“You’d better be right here when I wake up,” she mumbled sleepily, possessively tightening her grip around you.

You let out a low chuckle as you recalled her pout when you’d tried to do her a favor and get up earlier to make coffee the morning after the Rave’N. Truth be told, you thought as you pressed a reassuring kiss to her shoulder, you were looking forward to holding Larissa and watching her slowly wake up in your arms.

“I wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else.”

A/N:

Here, have a little bonus "scene" that I toyed with incorporating but didn't:

“You know Enid said we won a poll on her blog for cutest couple at the Rave’N?”

Larissa stared up at you, lips parting in shock, her cheeks slowly turning pink.

“Riss? You okay?” You smiled teasingly at her.

She cleared her throat, a shy smile creeping its way onto her face. “I suppose even the students noticed before we did.”

“At least we got there in the end,” you teased. She let out a low chuckle, one which you matched, before nuzzling her face into your neck.

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #larissa x reader #principal weems x reader #principal weems #in my head #in my head series

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puckpocketed · 3 months

Note

caps fan here!

as follower of pld (the few, the proud, the courageous!), i was wondering if you had any thoughts about how he might fit in with our team, assuming he's going to be 1C with Ovi on the left and one of Wilson or Mangiapane on the right, and basically taking the former Kuznetsov/Backstrom spot on the halfwall on PP1. my thinking is that he can easily return to being a 60 point player just by the increase in ice time alone this coming season, and maybe even flirt with 70 if he has a triggerman like big O on his wing.

as someone who knows a hell of a lot more about PLD than i do, is that just wishful thinking because i'm a caps fan? what do you think?

The PLD Post, Part 2: mask-OFF

Hii!! (we are SO brave and SO correct). i am so sorry this took ages to answer, i was trying to decide how serious to be. I will admit, I was hesitant about going mask-off and hitting up the microstats and revealing that i do seriously think he can be better than he was bc that shit is kinda lame ESPECIALLY when defending a clear failhorse. but at this point any rep i have as someone with good opinions must be gone considering how many media scapegoats i've attached myself to (i got a fucking. c.gauthier ask the other day aslkjdkljas) so. mask is coming off. we've hit somewhere between well-considered manifesto and vibe check so . um. enjoy!!

I remain optimistic going from everything I've heard and from what you're saying here! But, big big asterisk. He absolutely needs to take ownership of his lack of engagement. when he speaks in media availability I believe him when he says he wants to change. The will to change is there, idk if it’s possible that any player would be satisfied with their performance being the way his was. There’s a lot that needs to be unpacked about his lack of production, the Character Issues, and what his role might look like going forward. You and any other Caps fan who reads this will have to tell me if the fit is right. Hockey talk below the cut lol!!

So before I start I have to say I know dick all about the Caps except:

You're dragging that old man (Ovechkin) to Gretzky's lawn (record) to set it on fire (break it before he retires)

Everyone is pining away for your very very injured 1C who is also Ovechkin's boybestfriend/perfect set-up guy/work wife

There's. intricate pre-game rituals?

So I'm not sure I can speak to how he will fit with your (our? i AM picking the Caps up fr given every acquisition/draft pick they've made) team with any depth or specificity. also i don't think i'd call myself a PLD expert. like. i just got here !! I haven't been following him since he was drafted or anything!! I have, however, consumed TOO MANY Kings games this past season and I can give you a broad look at what actually happened with them and why I think it didn't work out. I will not be making any overtures about being unbiased. My biases WILL slip through because I think Dubois is a sweetheart and I find the mental exercise of defending him fun <3 I’ll give you stats and observations and I will build a story that runs counter to what the prevailing media narratives say. While I stand by my opinions, they're also just one of many available interpretations of what happened.

character concerns

Everyone will be bringing it up at the first speed bump of the season, the first bad game he has. Please be prepared to have a crisis of faith and also be deeply disappointed in him. god knows I am, like, all the time <3 But... I always want to dig deeper when it comes to dominant narratives, because in following multiple teams I’ve become acutely aware of just how miserably Bad media can be at reporting on teams that aren’t their own.

I hear “Locker room cancer” accusations bandied about and I’ve yet to see anyone produce a primary source for this — podcasters, journalists, even people on nhl broadcasts will throw these words around so casually, assuming they’re correct because everyone knows the story. Some confounding factors in the character narratives arise when you scratch the surface. People who've worked with him speak well enough of him. Todd McLellan called him “misunderstood”, and had nothing bad to say about his character.

Matt Roy, who also just got picked up by the Caps, has recently said he’s a great teammate. MORE proof if you want to hear it directly, Roy went on Dropping The Gloves and had this to say about Dubois (transcript by me):

[on what actually happened] Honestly, I don’t know. I mean if you asked him he would say he had a down year. But it’s nothing like — I feel like the media paints this picture of him, and to me it couldn’t be further from the truth, you know. He’s a great teammate, he’s a great locker room guy, he gets along with everybody. So, in terms of all that I don’t know where the media is getting all this stuff. If I hated the guy I probably wouldn’t have come to Washington. He’s one of my friends on the team and I really think he’s going to have a bounce back year. I think he’s really going to be good for the team.

Matt Roy signed with the Caps of his own free will as an RD, a contested free agent in a sparse market, knowing Dubois was already here. He could’ve gone to plenty of different places. Why the hell would Roy sign here long-term, clearly wanting to play and win, if Dubois was as disliked as some pundits would have us believe??? Credible reports (and not just speculation) point to PLD’s other teammates liking him!!

And here’s some propaganda; I direct you to this extremely sweet video where he gets asked about assisting on Akil Thomas' first NHL goal (and a bunch of other first NHL goals). He is so, so genuinely happy for Akil, who battled through injuries that set back his development for years. Just LOOK at his smile!! He can’t hold it back. (Others have said this but it looks like a little v. Like :> !!!! HELLO !!)

How does all of this happen when, supposedly, he’s a low-character asshole and a “locker room cancer”? It doesn’t line up for me.

On the other hand, I have seen Dubois cruise. He really can’t seem to bounce back from a poor start, and if you were just looking from the outside in, the scoresheet this year reflects this. The critique is fair; I’ve turned this over in my head enough times. there are less physically gifted, less skilled players, who are working so hard to stay in this league, and Dubois’ poor showing does feel somewhat like, idk, something I’d be mad about usually.

Here comes the “but”. Call this next bit the narrative section, because I’m showing my ass here: I think Dubois gets a lot of scrutiny because of his infamous Shift, which went a specific kind of viral, under the exact right conditions, and it has just. defined his career. And okay… I am not denying that the shift happened, but plenty of guys in this league have taken shifts off. come on. the season is long and they're only human. I’m not excusing it either! It was bad and he deserved his benching. Ideally, he one day becomes a player who always puts effort in. Working hard is one of my favourite traits in any player, and usually this would be enough for me to dismiss him as not worth being invested in.

and yet…. the reactions to his floundering performance feel so much like they’re about expectations as seen through the lens of The Shift. They’re calibrated differently because he went 3rd overall, and he's got this big body, the speed, the skill — it's the fact that he's got the tools and seemingly squanders them. All of this is amplified by the contract he's sitting on and his run of short-term stays on teams. Does he get this much scrutiny if he went in the 2nd or 3rd round? Does he catch this much heat for his low energy performance if that one shift clip hadn’t done all that damage? We’ll never know obviously but . I do wonder.

Final word on the character stuff is that we don’t know what truly went on in those locker rooms and i don't want to give more air time to baseless speculation. What we can examine is the hockey. The hockey tells the truth <3

the 23-24 la kings

Assuming the plan is to give PLD a look at 1/2C while he’s on the Caps, I think he’s a complementary type of player. The way he is right now, I don't think he can drive his own line or pull people up. He works with the calibre of lineys he's got and will produce the expected outcome. That sounds so obvious, but what I’m saying is I don’t think he’s capable of miracles like the best playmakers in the league, he's not about to make your guys look 15 years younger. In this vein, I look at his many first NHL goal assists as a symptom of what kind of linemates he was being paired with all season, and how unstable the situation was. His drop in point production IS more complicated than "he's just a piece of shit". From this article, the best summary I've seen of the Situation PLD was in:

LA acquired a player who had been a top-six center (and at times, winger) his entire career playing with established NHL talent. Yet after investing multiple assets to acquire Dubois and sign him to a significant contract, the team decided to put him in a third-line role where his most common linemate was a first-year NHL player who wasn’t expected to be on the roster in Alex Laferriere. Those two had a revolving door of wingers throughout the season. Moreover, Dubois’ most common on-ice teammates after Laferriere at 5-on-5 this season were Matt Roy and Andreas Englund. Gee, I wonder why he didn’t produce?

Context about Roy and Englund: Roy is a quiet but capable d-man who is defensively geared with a bit of offensive upside (j'adore. does things the right way and is very responsible and good. will throw hits but doesn't chase them or headhunt. I think playing away from the Kings’ more passive system will unlock more of his offensive potential. Matt Roy you will be SO good for the Caps I truly believe mwah mwah); and Englund is a leg weight/goon who, going by every single stat I can pull out, makes his d-partners Worse (with affection <3). Point here is neither of them being on the ice was particularly conducive to a lot of scoring chances.

As I said in my previous post, I think Dubois absolutely needs finishers. At some point there was hype around his shot but I didn't see much of that at all on lak? Eye test says: he was unwilling to shoot, and when he did shoot it felt like there was low/no commitment, no power behind it. Comments on his shooting called him “too deferential” at different turns. That’s just an insulting way to say a guy likes to pass and I truly think it circles back to the expectations thing. Would there be anything wrong with him not being much of a shooter this past season if he was another player? (Can't we just say he passed a lot this season without bringing value judgement into it? leave my failhorse ALONE!!!! like must a man score goals ,can't he be very very sweet and happy for the rookies he assisted ? wailing about it forever.)

More fun stats from that same article:

#1 on lak for passes that led to high-danger scoring chances, and scoring chances in general <- again, not a miracle worker. did not have finishers who could capitalise on these chances. its so fucked up what they did to my failwife

one of the best on lak in actually carrying the puck into the o-zone. (another reason i quite liked watching him!! transition forwards my BELOVED) everything I've ever observed about him off the cuff holds true here: he draws penalties this way, because he's fast and when he's locked in he is pretty good for controlled zone entries <3

Dubois had a career high in even-strength assists per 60, this is all in spite of his weird linemate situation and his reduced TOI and the power play mess (more on this later). he might have been deferring, but I truly think the lack of stability + good finishers, and ice time held him back from being more productive.

jim hiller

Building off that last point: even worse on the stability front, which I did allude to in the initial PLD Post, was what happened when Jim Hiller took over. You must understand one of the first clues that we were working with a different animal of a head coach is he was NOT afraid to line shuffle, and shortly after he found short-term success with that, they started running 11 forwards and 7 defensemen (you can see where it started precisely if you scroll back in lak lb because you'll find ME yelling about it LMAO). This shortened forward bench resulted in mid-game line shuffling, as in it was uncertain as to who they would be playing with from shift to shift. Hiller is on record saying he thinks it was beneficial, per this article:

It’s all about getting his deep forward corps engaged in the game. That’s sometimes difficult if you’re running four full lines and there are penalty kill or power play opportunities that alter the flow of the lines. Especially for the group of forwards who don’t kill penalties – think Kevin Fiala, Viktor Arvidsson, Quinton Byfield, Pierre-Luc Dubois – it’s an opportunity to get them extra shifts and engage in the game. “Some of our other players who don’t penalty kill, you know they can lose the flow of the game, so they enjoy it more I know,” Hiller said of having 11 forwards in action. “We’ve talked about it a lot. We really just think for our team, the way it is right now, that gives us an advantage getting those players more ice time.”

(and ok sorry to go off about my gripes with how the kings are run but .They were doing this into playoffs. This article was written during playoffs. god. CARL GRUNDSTROM, WHO HAS NEVER NOT PLAYED HARD, PLAYED 25 SECONDS IN GAME 2. all this while they were trying to get people 'engaged'. Idk. Maybe it did work for some players. I wasn’t behind that bench. But sitting one of your most energetic and committed forwards during a series in which you’re trying to come back from being down several games was a CHOICE!!!! also like what if you didn't double-shift QB. what then. And we all know how that series ended. lak coaching/management i am beating you with a pillowcase stuffed with bricks . <3)

Much was made of the Hiller takeover. I liked it at the time. In his first couple of media availabilities post-TM, Hiller emphasised bringing back "fun" to the game for many of the players who were slumping — and a reportedly tense locker room during the big skid that lost McLellan his job. It was all very Ted Lasso of him. Hiller also introduced a new way to rate Dubois for his performance every night, separate from the scoresheet. I made jokes about PLD's very special star-chart, everyone who knew about it was making jokes about it. This merit system was tailored towards communicating with Dubois what he did and didn't do well, and while no one ever went into depth about it we do know a few things:

It measured things outside of +/-, goals and assists, and was likely a score out of 5 per metric.

One of the metrics was about hits/physicality, another one was likely ‘compete’ levels.

He alluded to being measured on penalties drawn?? Or something??

Anyway it sort of … worked?? The change in Dubois was pretty immediate, the moment he was given some clear direction to work in. He played some of his BEST games of the year in the wake of this change. He got involved physically, he was not losing steam, he was drawing tons of penalties because he’s huge and fast and has good hands and IF he puts his mind to it he can truly be a transition monster.

CUE THE LINE SHUFFLING… imo, much of the progress made seemed to be lost, and the rest is history.

NOT saying Dubois is free of fault here. Needing that extra motivation to get physically involved is kinda wild, and I understand why for some people it’s a bridge too far. EYE am here for the laffs though and it's really funny that the communication came in the form of super special individualised performance evaluations/a glorified sticker chart. This is why he’s my temperamental desert flower. Wilting violet. Soggy kitten. <3 and for the record I truly don’t think I’d care if he put up 40 points per szn for the rest of his career. I don’t care because he’s a sweetie and the Bit i do when defending him is too funny. I don’t think I’d care if everyone was right about him — I just don’t actually think they are.

the power play problem

So okay, as per part 1 (my last email <3) we know Dubois thrives net front. It’s where he scored a bunch of his goals on the Jets. Every stat and the eye test supports this. So how come Lak had him stationed on the half wall doing jackshit, if he was on the power play at all?? I will admit I drove myself half crazy studying power play structures and watching LA Kings games back before coming up with a garbled, half-formed idea about how LA runs their PP. I was going to attempt to explain it here — had to do with Kevin Fiala and Dubois being lefties and how that's just an awkward passing sitch — but it turns out more than one person has had this thought and MAN I love being validated by actual hockey people. I fully thought i was making shit up in my head for a good week or two, and was seriously considering scrapping this portion . but it’s SO important for contextualising the production drop, so here goes !!

As early as September 2023 there was a story published about PLD’s role on PP1 — a place where he certainly should’ve belonged as a top-6 guy with plenty of ppg’s under his belt. From this article, which explains the issue very very neatly, and much more eloquently than I could ever hope to:

The addition of Pierre-Luc Dubois was a big one this summer; at first glance, he should be a great addition to the power play. But when digging deeper, the Kings might struggle to fit him onto the top unit. Dubois played mostly as the net front player for the Winnipeg Jets last season, the role Gabriel Vilardi often played for the Kings last season. So, it’s an easy one-to-one switch in that spot, right? Not necessarily. Dubois has all the talents to be an effective net-front player. He has the size and strength to battle in front, with the skill to effectively pop down low and create chances. However, his handedness is a big problem for this role. The Kings run their power play primarily on the left side with Kevin Fiala — Anze Kopitar when Fiala is hurt — which necessitates a right shot down low. When a right shot player pops out on the left side, there’s an easy passing angle for the half-wall player and more options for the player down low. Quick passing is key for a successful power and a left-shot can’t move the puck quick enough down low. They would have to either move too far into the corner or take the extra second to step out from and open up their body to create an effective passing angle. Time that would slow the power play down too much and allow the opposition penalty kill to get back into position. There’s also minimal shot threat from a lefty down low. We saw both Vilardi and Viktor Arvidsson frequently take the pass down low and quickly turn it into a shooting opportunity, something a left shot wouldn’t be able to do.

It then goes on to suggest 2 solutions that aren’t appealing at all:

Flip the power play entirely to accommodate Dubois net front. Not great as they dont have the players for that, and if they tried it they’d be hamstringing Adrian Kempe’s one-timer.

PLD on the bumper position. This one’s hard to swallow because that displaces Kopitar to PP2, there’s his position as captain and the optics of moving him off his spot.

In this article it is once again suggested that LA MUST flip their power play and figure out how to get PLD net front. In this article they point out how useless he was playing on the wall down the stretch, and how the only reason he seemed to be able to produce something was because he’d taken Kopitar’s spot in his absence. This article calls to attention Dubois’ worlds performance, where team Canada utilised him net front.

Big picture, the Fit

Do we see the problem here yet? It’s not the flat narrative I was sold by the national media, random assholes on twitter, and podcasters who don’t actually watch Kings matches!!!! Do we see how weird and messy and complicated it is, beyond “hey he’s just a sack of shit who isn’t trying hard enough”. Rob Blake himself has come out and admitted that they didn’t put Dubois in a position to succeed. And absolutely there was effort required on his end — a different player might have sucked it up and adapted to circumstances, a different player might never have needed that extra bit of communication, a straight up better player might have dragged his less skilled lineys up to a higher level. But the problem has always been two-fold: LA was trying to coach and manage a completely different player to the one they had in front of them and expecting good results; and Dubois was unable to keep competing with all he had in the face of that. I think both parties are at fault here. And I think, given the chance and the right circumstances, Dubois can hit 60 points again.

Okay, circling back to the big question of Fit. Will he be able to work with Ovechkin? Hard to think he could fail with one of hockey’s best goal scorers on his wing, if he does get a look at 1C. People who know the Caps better than I do, does this sound workable? Is Dubois going to be too difficult of a nut to crack for your coach? Your locker room?

And, of course, the power play issue. Maybe Dubois learns to be better on the half wall! Idk!! Maybe it was a matter of coaching and he thrives in Washington running your PP1 from there. For my money… I like him better playing net front or bumper. Do the Caps have the bodies to accommodate this? I did ask someone familiar with the Caps PP to explain it to me so I could try and figure this out but ouuuugh. My head is spinning. Someone smarter than me please jump in. I am TIRED . We don’t know what it will look like, what they’re planning to do with Dubois on the power play. You guys probably have a better idea about what’s possible than I do <3

Conclusion?

PLD is fast, big, a passing threat and a formidable net front presence when he’s given the opportunity and playing his A-game. As far as I can tell, his B-game is garbage </3 His poor performance is more complicated than people think and I’m pretty sure only the LA Kings beat reporters + the 12 kings fans on twitter know this. Most of them still dislike PLD anyway bc his low motor. I don’t blame them, I’m just more inclined to be forgiving because I love redemption arcs and I think he’s a good person. i would love to be wrong about his low-effort B-game LMAO but im trying to be realistic here. I want him to fit in and be embraced by the Caps so bad <3 Your coach sounds like he wants to help PLD succeed and is up for the challenge. The vibes from my friends who follow the Caps are always good, I’ve read through various tags and it sounds like a place that will take him in whether he likes it or not. I might be stupid but I believe in him !!! and I’ve laid out all the hockey bullshit for you to the best of my ability. Given all of this… do you think he’ll do well?

#the.. the pld manifesto... good gravy... i did it..#just above 4k words. not even bad #sorry i couldn't maintain the any kind of consistent serious tone LMAO its too fucking funny and i think enjoying him as a player #comes with a requisite level of silliness that one must maintain for the sake of . sanity <3 #i dont think i have enough knowledge of the caps #to say anything about your side of the equation. so. ball in your court caps girlies (gender neutral)#also sorry this took so long i was honestly agonising over the power play thing bc i thought i was hallucinating #and i wanted to source everything to the best of my ability since i was bringing real stats and hockey analysis into it #im sorry this might not be the clear answer u were looking for </3 #pierre luc dubois #washington capitals #caps lb #asks #user lonewolflink #primers #<- does this count. LMAO #my writing #<- this definitely has to count #la kings #los angeles kings #lak lb

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tulip-room · 1 month

Text

Crush Next Door - s. kiyoomi

syn. your childhood friend that you lose contact with moves next door

Ch. 10 || Crush Next Door!

warnings. None <3

words. 1.6k

prev >> series masterlist

You didn't really have time for questions when the trio pushed you into the house. Your words were caught in your throat as you saw a very flustered looking Sakusa with a bouquet in his hands. "What is all of this?" You ask looking around from the blanket fort to the ice cream, from the record player with Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You playing to the DVD of Howl's Moving Castle sitting out on the table.

"So, you seem surprised." Sakusa coughs and looks down at the flowers. "These are for you." He can't seem to quite meet your eyes as he hands you the flowers. You take them with a smile and step closer to him.

"Will you look at me?" You prod gently as your foot lightly kicks his. His head lifts up as he takes a deep breath in. He was beginning to panic but your smile makes all his racing thoughts stop (although it doesn't do anything for his racing heart). "What's going on Kiyo?" Your voice is so gentle, so soft. Like you were talking to a small animal you were afraid of scaring off.

"Can we sit down before I tell you, I feel like I'm going to pass out." You let out a laugh and cover your mouth with one of your hands. You hold his hand and lead him over to the couch. Once you're sitting down you lay the flowers on the table and hold both of his hands in your own. Your thumbs rubbing gentle circles on the back of his hands like he's done so many times before to calm you down.

"Breathe. It's just me," you give him a reassuring smile. It's just you, the words repeat in his head and he can feel himself breathing regularly again. "You know you can tell me anything Kiyoomi. I'm here for you, always." He knew that. He really shouldn't be so nervous, he wasn't this nervous when he kissed you for the first time. Maybe it was because this was more real. This time he was well aware of his feelings and that everything could go wrong. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

He opens his eyes, he's not sure when he even closed them. You look so perfect right now. He always thought you looked perfect, even when you were wrapped up in your sad blanket and had tear stains on your face. You were always going to be perfect to him. He takes another deep breath before he takes his hand from yours to reach into his pocket. He pulls out a ring box similar to the one you had when you first purchased your rings.

Your eyes widen when you see familiar bands, new and old at the same time. You can't stop the smile from growing across your face. "I thought we might need new ones." You reach a hand out to grab one of the rings but he stops you. "I think I need to tell you more before you take them...these will mean something different than the first ones," he says nervously.

"Okay," you fold your hands in your lap before grabbing on of his hands again. "It's just me." Those words again. They brought him more comfort than he wanted to admit.

"I think...no, let me start again. Sorry," he takes a breath and you place a hand on his knee.

"It's okay, we'll figure it out together." He nods and closes his eyes. He shakes his head, he needs to see you when he tells you. It's so nerve wracking but he has to see you. He doesn't want to spend another moment not seeing you.

"Let me say all of it before you talk?" You squeeze his hand in agreement and keep smiling at him like he's loved. And he really hopes he is, he hopes he is loved by you.

"I'm in love with you," he sees how your eyes widen but you hold his hand tighter. Telling him you're not going anywhere and a subconscious urge to continue. "I've been in love with you for a very long time. I can't tell you exactly when I started loving you because truth be told I hadn't realized until you left. I can't even take full credit for realizing either, Komori is the one who had to tell me," he smiles when he hears your small laugh at the confession. "I think I should have known when you tripped and skinned your knee. There's so many moments I can tell you that I've loved you. But I'll tell you the big ones okay?"

You nod encouragingly at him. "I've loved you since you gave me hairclips. You might have thought of them as such a small insignificant thing but they still mean a lot to me, I have them sitting on my dresser. The original box and everything." He grows more and more confident as he talks because you're there and It's Just You. The you he's loved longer than he hasn't. "I cried one time because I had accidentally stepped on some of them. They were so important to me. The dance is another big one for me, you looked...I can't even put into words how you looked. Not really. You looked like love, you always look like love to me." He can see the tears welling in your eyes and it's his turn to give your hand a squeeze. Three of them.

"I didn't tell you but when you said you were going, I started practicing with Komori. I practiced for weeks so that I would feel confident enough to dance with you. I know you love dancing and I wanted to make you feel loved. I stumbled a few times but I think that made it better for you. You always hated when everything was exactly perfect, you enjoy the subtle things that make something imperfect." The tears are flowing freely from your eyes and he can feel his chest tightening up. His own eyes begin stinging.

"I saved up for months to get a phone because I wanted to be the first person to wish you happy birthday every year. I still have the reminder in my phone, it tells me to get up and call you." You let out a wet laugh at it but still let him continue. "Everytime this song plays I can't help the smile that appears on my face. It reminds me of you and anything that reminds me of you makes me smile. I should have known I was hopelessly in love with you when you kissed me for the first time. I have been comparing every good moment in my life to how it felt to kiss you. So far, I haven’t found anything that has topped that feeling. Kissing you made me know what love is. I think you are love. To me at least. I've kept the ring you gave me and I'm so glad that they worked. I'm glad that we found our home again." He picks up the ring box. "If you'll have me, I would love to be your boyfriend. I figured we would need new rings, although I hope we don't have to search as far to find home again." He finally stops talking and you throw your arms around his neck.

"Sakusa Kiyoomi, I didn't think you were so sappy." You smile and try to wipe at the tears that were falling from your face.

"What can I say? You make me like that." He can hear your sniffles and you pull away to put the new ring on his finger. He places the other on your hand. "So I take it that's a yes?"

"Yes, Kiyo. I would love nothing more than to be yours." You place your hands on his face, cupping it gently. “It’s my turn to be sappy, I think. Sakusa, thank you for catching me when I fell. I fell so in love with you that I can’t think of a time in my life when I wasn’t loving you. I have spent my whole life loving you and I want to spend the rest of my life continuing to do that same. Sakusa Kiyoomi, I love you more than words can express. People think love is the butterflies in your stomach and sweaty hands but my love for you has never been like that. My love for you was midnight calls, picking petals from my hair. My love for you is how I feel perfectly at home when you’re with me. You’re my home.”

It’s his turn for tears to well up in his eyes. His hands find a home on your hips as you start leaning in. Your noses bump and you can't help the laugh that comes from you. "Try again," it's very reminiscent of the first time you kissed. Kissing Sakusa Kiyoomi still felt like home. This time though you appreciated it more because it had been a very long day since you had been able to come home. The kiss is filled with tear stains and sniffles, but mostly it’s filled with love. When you have to pull away because your giggles make kissing hard, Sakusa can only look at you with love.

"This is gonna be hard to top?"

"I'm sure you'll find something. Dance with me?" You ask gently and the two of you stand up. Sakusa fixes the record and while it doesn't start with your song he can't find it in himself to care. The two of you stand there for who knows how long, just holding each other. This time you're the one stepping on his feet. He pulls you into another kiss and murmurs against your lips between breaths about how he loves you.

"I love you, thank you for coming back to me."

Everyone thank Ave for the fact that this all got posted. They talked me into it. OMG IT’S DONE GUYS. IT’S COMPLETED!!!! I hope you guys enjoyed reading, I would love to hear your thoughts and comments <3

taglist. @hiraethwa @loveelylacey @3lectraheart @cosmiicdust @angelkiyo @empress-pug-pug @whosmarjj @itsdragonius

stay a while why don’t you? check out my other stuff

#haikyuu x reader #tulip writes #haikyu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x y/n #sakusa x reader #sakusa x gn!reader #sakusa kiyoomi fluff #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x you #sakusa x y/n #sakusa kiyoomi x you #hq x y/n

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danthropologie · 14 hours

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Re the previous ask about blake holding camera = he knew

1. He has his camera in every race. I don’t know if Blake holding it meant anything.

2. He had his parents out in AD22. With SG being closer, his parents would have made it even if it was by flying private. His gf wasn’t there in AD22 either, so not making that comparison

3. Compare his pre-race interview (not even the media day one) during the parade. Complete change from the post race interview. Complete change in demeanour

Combining 2 & 3, if he knew earlier, the earliest could be right before the race. Then why would management do sth like that before the race? (Then again why does rbr do anything atp?) That man knew nothing concrete going into the weekend, just like he predicted nothing amiss before the summer break. That hell video wasn’t for nothing - no one can make me believe otherwise

Alternatively, he himself might have given rbr the ultimatum hoping to force their hand and when they didn’t get back, he finally realised he was done playing this game. He was finally disillusioned. ofc helping max was one part (i genuinely believe that played in his mind when he was asked for the FL) and sticking to mcl was another part, but at the end if the record breaking lap was what he could take away in what he believed was his last moment in the lap, he put his entire ricussy into getting it.

As much as I want to remain delulu, i think (with extreme sadness) this is it for him. Not because it’s over, but HOW it’s over. All because they decided to keep a bum like Checo. I’m ambivalent towards Yuki, but heck I am even angry on his behalf too. Genuinely gutted that rb did DR dirtier than mcl and that’s saying sth, considering all he had done for rbr and how CH and rbr paraded him around as their family member. Will never forgive them. Rbr’s downfall is gonna be something else altogether and you best believe that I will be there to witness and bask in it.

so what you're saying is that clip of helmut going over to daniel just before the race, he was actually inflicting psychological torture on him saying "you better fucking beat that guy or you're out of the sport. good luck! 😉"

no but seriously, i was with you right up until the end bit 😭😭😭 even the idea of giving them some sort of 'red bull or nothing' ultimatum that sent him spiraling i could get on board with. but i don't agree that it's over.

the crazy thing to me is that for as far as it ended up spiraling out, to ME it really just feels like a complex series of misunderstandings and miscalculations (not including the media's part in it cause i think they WERE malicious in their handling of it).

the daniel of it all is the worst part to me because obviously by the end of the weekend he HAD been convinced that it may in fact be the end. i don't believe that that was ever actually the case, but between the confidence in the way the media was reporting it, the lack of clarity from red bull, the trauma and insecurities left from 2022 mclaren and maybe even rbr over this past summer break, and the mental and emotional toll the race itself actually took on him, he was clearly worn down and left in a very vulnerable state where he drew the only real conclusions anyone in his position COULD draw.

meanwhile you have vcarb who apparently didn't know a single fucking thing, so they COULDN'T say anything because there's nothing TO say.

and then you have red bull. now clearly they DO hold some responsibility for the whole thing. they knew what the narratives were going into the weekend, and it should have been easy for them to just clarify that all drivers are going to see out the season, 2025 decision to come later. BUT that being said, i truly do not think they had any clue whatsoever just how big this thing was gonna get. i think they miscalculated in thinking a) it wasn't going to be that big and b) daniel would be able to handle it. he's done it so many times before! why wouldn't he be able to do it again! but then obviously by the time daniel's having his little menty b in the middle of the media pen, it's too late, there's not really anything they can do.

like jenna @accio-ricciardo brought up this idea the other day that it's almost like...have you ever been in a situation where someone in your life accidentally made you cry because they didn't realize you were at the end of your rope emotionally and some tiny little thing they didn't think was even a big deal sets you off and sends you sobbing? it kind of feels like perhaps that was red bull/christian/whoever with daniel. they figured he's a trooper, he'll let it wash off his back like he always does, he can handle it, not realize that he very much COULD NOT handle it because all these different factors were boiling up into the perfect shitstorm to make him absolutely lose his mind.

and if this is the case—it really was just a bunch of misunderstandings and miscalculations compounding and multiplying on each other—i've said it once, i'll say it a million times, i DO think there's a way back and way for things to continue on as they were meant to before all this shit happened. it's just a matter of apologies and reassurances and making things right, and hopefully everyone can set aside their pride enough for that to happen.

#the way that rbr have been so quiet and all these pundits and journalists and commentators #are out here like 'uhhhhhhh......' and slowly starting to walk it back.......very pleasing to the agenda 😈#now i just need red bull to on a little bit of an attack mode when they make whatever announcement they're going to make #like literally go full: YOU 🫵 (the media) caused this whole mess by going so crazy over a rumor that wasn't even true #about a decision that wasn't even made yet!!! go sit in the corner and think about what you did 😤#and then threaten boycott or embargo status or some shit. whatever it takes to get them to back the fuck off a little bit #singapore24 #answered #anonymous

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crochetedblorbos · 3 months

Text

"Sorry, Elias, I can't hear you. There's a door in the way."

Character Name: Martin Blackwood

Fandom: The Magnus Archives [Podcast]

Voiced By: Alexander J. Newall (@rqbossman)

Yarn Used: Shoes: CraftSmart Value - Dark Almond Trousers: CraftSmart Value - Coffee Jumper: CraftSmart Value - Cornflower Skin: CraftSmart Value - Peach Hair: CraftSmart Value - Clay Ombre Glasses: Ashland Floral Wire - 22 Gauge/Iron/Silver

Basic pattern here.

Martin. My boy Martin. First character I put on this list before it was an actual list. (Why didn’t I do him first? Look…by the time I realized I had to actually do this, other podcasts were still ongoing and characters actively needed hugs.) It has been a long time since I have identified with a character so hard, and I love him so much. I couldn’t wait to get to hug him.

He differs from the base pattern as follows:

Shoes: I gave Martin loafers, or at least that was what I meant to give him. Therefore, I stopped with the shoe color at R6 (the final decrease) and switched to trouser color. I also knotted a small scrap of brown yarn on the tips and tied them in bows.

Trousers: So here’s the thing: Martin is fat. I know there are people who want to argue that the podcast never explicitly says the word “fat” - just things like “a bigger guy” and “roomy” and the like - and that that could mean he’s just tall or broad or muscular or whatever, but for fuck’s sake, there aren’t that many fat characters out there that aren’t punch lines, let me have this. Anyway, I am also fat, so I admittedly based a lot of my alterations on, well, me. And the first thing I decided was that Martin, like me, has trouble finding pants off the rack that fit him properly because everything that fits his waist has too long of an inseam, so I decided to give him cuffs on his pants by doing R7 as hdc in front loops of R6 only, then R8 as dc in the back loops of R6. I then continued as normal up through R17 and: R18: Ch 1, [sc in next 2 st, 2 sc in next st] 5 times around, sl st in first sc (20 sc). R19: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (20 sc). R20: Ch 1, [sc in next 4 st, 2 sc in next st] 4 times around, sl st in first sc (24 sc). R21-29: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (24 sc). After completing second leg, sl st to middle of inseam. Ch 4 and join to middle of inseam of opposite leg. R30: Ch 1, [sc in each st around leg, sc in each ch across] 2 times, sl st in first sc (56 sc). R31-32: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (56 sc). R33: Ch 1, sc in first st, 2 sc in next st, [sc in next 3 st, 2 sc in next st] 2 times, sc in next 32 st, [2sc in next st, sc in next 3 st] 3 times, 2sc in next st, sc in next st, sl st in first sc (62 sc). R34: Ch 1, [2sc in next st, sc in next 2 st] 4 times, 2sc in next st, sc in next 32 st, [2sc in next st, sc in next 2 st] 5 times, sc in next 2 st, sl st in first sc (72 sc). R35: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (72 sc).

Jumper: Let the record show that I bought this yarn specifically because it was the exact color I always had in mind in leaves when I referenced “the jumper Jon once offhandedly complimented him on”. I did it the same way I did Joseph’s hoodie, fpdc around each st in R34 and then continuing in sc, but I also decided to make his stomach a bit bigger as I went. Beginning with R39: R39: Ch 1, [sc in next 5 st, 2 sc in next st] 3 times, sc in next 32 st, [2sc in next st, sc in next 5 st] 3 times, 2 sc in next st, sc in next 3 st, sl st in first sc (79 sc). R40: Ch 1, 2sc in first st, sc in next 78 st, sl st in first sc (80 sc). R41-42: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (80 sc). R43: Ch 1, sc in first 2 st, inv dec, [sc in next 4 st, inv dec] 3 times, sc in next 32 st, [inv dec, sc in next 4 st] 4 times, inv dec, sc in next 2 st, sl st in first sc (72 sc). R44-45: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (72 sc). R46: Ch 1, [sc in first 4 st, inv dec] 12 times, sl st in first sc (60 sc). R47-48: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st (60 sc). R49: Ch 1, [sc in first 3 st, inv dec] 12 times, sl st in first sc (48 sc). R50-57: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (48 sc). R58: Ch 1, inv dec around, sl st in first st (24 sc). R59: Switch to skin color. Ch 1, sc in back loop of each st around, sl st in first st (24 sc). R60: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (24 sc).

Head: I decided Martin has no neck really, but a slightly square head/jaw. (It came out a bit chinless, honestly, but it works for him.) So the pattern went as follows: R61: Ch 1, [sc in front loop of first 3 st, 2sc in front loop of next st] 6 times around, sl st in first sc (30 sc). R62: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (30 sc). R63: Ch 1, [sc in first 4 st, 2sc in next st] 6 times around, sl st in first sc (36 sc). R64: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (36 sc). R65-R82: Continue as in base pattern. I also gave him ears like I did Alice. For hair, I did the loop method again, just…significantly shorter, so I had to do more of it. (Which was fine, really, it kept me occupied on a long car ride…)

Glasses: I didn’t wrap these in thread this time, but I did cut the wire long enough that I could double it up the whole way across, so it works well, I think.

Arms: Like with the legs, I decided to make Martin’s arms fatter than usual, so at R12 I chained 2 and then did a pattern of (hdc, 2hdc) around to open it up to eighteen stitches from twelve. I also extended them to 33 rounds to fit better with his body.

#crocheting #blorbo from my shows #the magnus archives #tma #martin blackwood

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zizz-asdf-re-r-o-u · 3 months

Text

So You Want To Know Garu & Karu (Timeline Edition)

Very loosely inspired by Idololivine's Olivine post and Halfeti's Edmond post. Update: here's Phaerlax's post about WRITING Garu&Karu

Lore spreadsheet: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1BSTEdunb5PwVkhcuoEkaFVXUIk02FCnsoYkhL8yB9pA/edit?gid=221633315#gid=221633315

This is also going to double as a directory of all my Garu/Karu analysis posts.

Note: I did not play every 2022/2023 event, so if Garu/Karu had a tiny cameo in other events, I might have missed it even when watching recordings of past events. Please let me know if I'm missing something or have something wrong.

Warning for many spoilers & also trauma!

This timeline was last updated when Ch 14 pt2 was released.

This is an attempt at a complete timeline of Garu & Karu's history, that we know of. I've written quite a few meta about Garu/Karu, and thought we also need a concrete "these are the canon facts of their history".

Pre-Eiden Arrival:

Assume all these dates are before from Eiden's arrival in Klein.

[25-30 years ago before Eiden arrived in Klein] Garu was born to a nomad wolf spirit pack with a gemstone in his throat (Misty Vale, Ch 14)

[20-25 years ago] Garu, still a cub (in Earth normal wolf years, that would mean 3.5~ months old, unsure about Klein wolf spirit years), is kidnapped by some humans that eventually brought him to the Council of Sorcery (Ch 14).

[20-25 years ago] Kolt and his research team force Garu to transform into a wolf yokai/human form. Karu is formed as a DID trauma protective response. (Ch 14)

[23 years ago] Huey disappears, Eiden is born

[20-23 years ago] Kolt & his team continue to torture Karu, while Garu is dormant during the experiments, Cashel takes care of their injuries. (Ch 14)

[20-23 years ago] Rei returns to Council of Sorcery, Cashel catches him up with what's going on. The church has some kind of plan for Kolt's experiment (aka Garu/Karu), so 2 scientists on Kolt's team remove Garu's gemstone, Karu kills them, Rei & Cashel escape with Karu. (Ch 14)

[10-20 years ago] Garu/Karu and Cashel/Gramps are hiding in a cabin in the Dead Zone, killing monsters, taking care of people who get lost in the Dead Zone. At one point, Cashel/Gramps nearly drowns and never recovers from the illness. (Ch 7)

[3-10 years ago] Gramps dies, leaving Garu/Karu to wander Dead Zone alone. They do also find a cave for their main hiding spot. They also meet Blade occasionally in the Dead Zone. (Ch 7, AxBxO)

[Year Eiden arrives] Eiden meets Karu 1st, then Garu in the Dead Zone. Eiden proposes the human slave plan & Karu accepts. (Ch 7)

At this point, I don't know where the timeline is, because we don't know when the events are taking place amongst the main chapters, so I'll split it into sections.

Main story timeline:

Ch 8: Garu/Karu meets the rest of the gang and moves into Aster's mansion.

Ch 13: Garu reunites with Rei & co, they travel to Wood territory to find Kuya & Quincy because the Wood territory is in danger.

Ch 14: Karu makes Rei promise not to tell Garu his history, in part 2, he does anyways.

Events/SSR timeline:

Master's Gift: revealed that Karu idolizes/occasionally visits Kuya

Mystic Banquet/Endless Banquet SSR: G/Karu are not invited to the yokai banquet because they're under 100 years old and not as powerful as Yakumo. Kuya takes them and Eiden along to be his attendants. Shenanigans happen. Note: In the lore document, it says that Garu produced purple flames during his performance. That was actually Kuya that created the flames.

Idol Fest: Karu is a fan of Blade's idol persona.

Klein Star: Karu and Dante hunt a wild animal as a birthday present for Eiden.

Eerie Escapade/Howling Cyclone: It is revealed that Yakumo reads adventure stories to them, Garu likes drawing pictures, and shenanigans happen.

Silver Miracle: Garu sticks up for Kuya when the rest of the clan assumes Kuya is endangering Eiden with Night Crane shenanigans.

AxBxO/Forgotten Fruit: Shenanigans happen inside a book AU. Garu officially asks out Eiden to be his commander/master. Karu admits that he doesn't hate Eiden in a very backhanded way.

Misty Vale/Ethereal Guardian: Garu finds how hints about his past, so we can assume this event happened before ch 14 for sure.

Frozen Echoes/Binary Starlight: Echo spirits shenanigans happen including Karu getting kidnapped for 2/3 of the event. Garu & Karu perform with Edmond & Quincy for the Festival, Aster sells merch with everyone's face. Karu is scouted and then auditions to be a model, shenanigans, he gets some fans, and then ends up being a model/promoter for one of the restaurants.

Garu/Karu make cameos in Journey to a Nu World and Fancy Capricio, but they're AU/dreamland events and therefore not happening in the real (Klein) world. The only thing that happens in the real (Klein) world is that they join the clan in the hot springs.

Desert of Dusk/Stampeding Adventurer: Garu goes with Eiden to a town outside of Solaria while Dante is investigating it. Shenanigans. We can assume this event happened before ch14 because Garu has another confusing flashback.

Dessert Island Knockout/Beguiling Windchaser: Garu wins round 1 of the sports competition, and then together with Dante & Quincy wins the final flag of the whole contest. Garu is fast enough to be able to dodge both Dante and Quincy's (paintball/fire) attacks. Karu is apparently afraid of ghosts now, and can be easily fooled by human scent tricks.

This post will be updated as future events/chapters occur!

All my Garu/Karu analysis posts:

#nu carnival #garu #karu #nu carnival meta #nu carnival analysis #analysis #meta #personal

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foxymoxynoona · 1 year

Text

Over the Falls Ch. 3: Churn

Sexy Banner & bar by @borabae-gx

Summary: Jungkook sees a lot of things as a pool tech. It’s… fine. It pays the bills between mornings on the water and evenings rocking out with his garage-band. His favorite thing to see on the job has been Grace Birch –older but a hottie, wealthy but nice, and unfortunately very married. At least until Grace learns what her husband has been up to behind her back. Now that she’s free, Jungkook finds himself wondering: what does it take for a guy like him to catch the eye of a woman like that?

Genre: Poolboy Jungkook x Rich Divorcee OC

Tags: Age gap (older woman), socioeconomic gap, Surferboy JK, drummer/guitarist/vocalist JK, Wealthy divorcee OC, househusband

CW: Mature/Explicit, Infidelity (not between JKxOC), language, alcohol, recreational drugs, lots of explicit sex, ageist/racist/classist remarks down the road, outdoor sex, beach sex

Chapter Two | Masterlist | Chapter Three

“GRACE!”

She hated the way her name sounded as a shout. The gr got swallowed, the a dragged out, the c punched too hard. Tim had always said her name in a way that sounded like an insult, she just hadn’t realized it until now. He rarely called her by it, only if he was angry or disappointing her, pleading for her to accept an insincere apology.

Grace pulled her phone out and opened the voice recording app, as instructed. When her divorce attorney had given her these tips, she hadn’t thought she would need them. She’d been more focused on her regret that she wouldn’t get to see Tim’s face when he got served the papers. He’d be so shocked. He didn’t know she knew. He would never expect her to go through with this even if she did find out –and that had, in fact, been the deciding thing for her. Her husband would make excuses and expect to be forgiven.

Well, she refused. She refused to be that woman. She refused to spend another minute of her time working on a marriage to this man. She’d worried about her decision up until the first meeting with her divorce attorney and then relief had flooded her system so sharp and fast that it nearly carried her away. She couldn’t fucking wait to be divorced from this asshole, who was too stupid and to even delete the evidence from their in-home camera system

They’re always stupid, the divorce attorney –a woman named Lidiya Hel, very good at what she did– told her. Their egos can’t imagine that they’ll get caught. Their egos can’t imagine they won’t be forgiven because they’ve always been forgiven for everything. It’s not like this is the first thing he’s done wrong in the marriage, is it?

No. It was not.

As soon as the backdoor slid open, Grace sprang to her feet, hit record, and announced, “I am recording this conversation so I’d suggest not saying anything you don’t want on record.”

“Grace.” He spat her name and stormed towards her, the yellow legal envelope curled in his hand like a newspaper to hit her on the nose with. “The fuck is this? Divorce papers?”

“Yes. Did you read them?”

“I didn’t need to! I saw the first line and knew something was wrong. I was at work! I was just leaving a meeting with the CEO and this fucktard comes up and asks who I am. I thought it was a shithead new hire! Instead he gives me this shit. At work!”

Grace was glad to hear the play by play and corrected him, “I don’t control when the server finds you.”

“Don’t give me that shit. What is this? What do you mean, divorce? First I’m hearing that you’ve got any issues in this marriage and you didn’t even have the balls to talk to me first? Sweetheart, whatever it is–”

“Don’t call me sweetheart,” she interrupted. “That’s what you’ve been calling all of the women you fuck in our home. I’m not sure what you call the ones you don’t bring here.” She didn’t actually know if there were more than the three over the last two years, but she assumed so. Probably on all those business trips.

Tim froze. The fucking idiot. The papers said she was filing on grounds of adultery. He really hadn’t read them. Grace couldn’t imagine the self importance you needed to just walk into a situation like this blindly and assume it would go well for you.

“You can’t be surprised I figured it out,” she scoffed. “Do you realize how much footage I have from the home security system you chose?”

“You’re bluffing and it’s not a good look for you,” he countered. “You don’t have the login for the account. It’s in–”

“I’m your wife. It was no problem at all to get it.”

Tim froze, like she’d paused a video, for an insanely long moment.

“Now… now look here. I…” he restarted.

Actually, this was even better than seeing him when he got served. The emotions moved so rapidly across his flace she couldn’t name them, but she did know they indicated a usually brilliantly-quick mind trying to pick its angle. He was quick on his feet, that was why he did so well at his job. What would he choose: play the victim? Blame her? Beg for forgiveness? Rage about the invasion of his privacy?

He glanced at the phone in her hand and laughed, “What do you think you’re doing, sweetheart. I can toss that in the pool and there goes your precious recording.”

“Ruining my property, I think that’s technically assault.”

“Just because your head-up-his-ass father is a lawyer doesn’t make you one. I’m sure he’s– no. No, I didn’t mean that. You’re just catching me by surprise right now. I’m not going to break your phone. What, did you think I was going to do something violent?”

“Maybe.”

“Grace…”

“Turns out I don’t know you at all.”

“Oh come on,” he sighed, and looked away. He was still deliberating. He was trying to buy time, trying to calculate which method would get him what he wanted. And she knew he was having a hard time because he couldn’t predict her anymore. He pinched the bridge of his nose and gave another deep sigh. “Grace. I’m sorry.”

She really hadn’t thought he’d pick that one.

“I made a mistake. You’re right.” He nodded, gaze roaming the pool area, her book, her drink beside the lounge chair. “I got carried away… I’m under so much pressure with work, you know that. A few late nights, and… and you working so much…”

“So it’s my fault you fucked multiple women?”

“I’m a sex addict.”

“You’re a liar,” she corrected, “And a selfish prick.”

“Oh, what now, who’s the one calling names on your little recording?” he demanded, as if this was some incredible victory for him. “Here I want to have a conversation about how we can fix this marriage and you’re–”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Fix what?”

“I know you’re hurting right now and in shock… I… I didn’t mean for you to find out,” he said, hands out like he expected her to slip hers into them. “I knew I messed up. I’d already called it off and I was going to come clean and–”

“Yeah fucking right.”

“You fucking bitch, you can’t even listen to me saying I– Sorry,” he interrupted himself again, holding his hands up for a pause and looking away. Grace just stared at him and tried to understand how she had ever loved this toad. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that,” he said. “I’m just frustrated. Sweetheart, I understand you’re hurt and mad. Hey, I’d be pissed too if you were fucking around, but if the situation was reversed and I was looking at it from how you’ve been, I’d hear me out because I love you and—”

“From how I’ve been? How have I been, Tim?” she demanded. “Supportive? Lonely? Dedicated to our marriage and the things that make you happy?”

“Me? The things that make me happy? What’s so hard that you’re doing to make me happy? You don’t sacrifice a damn thing for me, you just peck at my all the time and all the ways I’m not as successful as your dear old dad. Let me tell you what you’re not doing to make me happy is you aren’t… you aren’t supporting me when things are hard at work. You aren’t listening to me now as I’m apologizing and trying to fix this.”

“There’s nothing to fix! You’re a terrible husband but I thought you were at least loyal! I thought you were just a workaholic because I’m an idiot!” She stepped away from him, biting back her own rage so it wouldn’t make her cry. She didn’t want to rage cry. She wanted to stay calm and in control because she had made her decision and there was nothing he could say to change it.

“Sure, now you’re saying I’m a terrible husband, but I’ve made you happy! We’ve been happy together all these years and I’m not the one giving up on our future. Get rid of these fucking papers,” he said and threw them into the pool. “We’re not talking divorce. We’ll go to counseling. I’ll go with you.”

“I’m not going to counseling with you.”

“Oh, but I’m the bad guy? I’m the one who wants to work on our marriage here–”

“We don’t have a marriage, Tim. It broke as soon as you started fucking around and I can’t begin to understand why you suddenly want to fight for it now.”

“Because I made a mistake and I don’t want to let that ruin the best thing in my life–”

“No. No you did not make a mistake. How many mistakes did you make, Tim? How many women? For how many years? I have proof of at least three and I’m sure more will be uncovered–”

“What, your dad hired a fucking P.I. or something?” His face hardened and it reminded her of the “jokes” he’d made before, about whether her family did that kind of thing, if they’d have him investigated or watched, if they’d ever trust him. He said they were crazy, delusional, then reached his hand out for some of their money. They had done that before the wedding, without her knowledge of blessing. Because her family well knew that money made other people crazy and delusional and willing to do anything to get it from you. There had been nothing to find back then. Or he hadn’t been as lazy about hiding it.

Tim paced, tucking his hands into his armpits as this new thread caught him, and he pressed, ‘What does your dad think about this, huh? Your family all up in arms ready to crucify me when I bet your dad’s done the same thing. It happens, Grace. Men make mistakes when they work with the kind of stakes men like me and your dad do–”

“Stop comparing yourself to my father,” she scoffed. “You are nothing like him.”

“So far as you know, huh, Grace? You’re so fucking naive…”

“Yeah, about you!”

“Daddy’s Girl, worship the ground he walks on. I should have known he’d tell you to leave me. Is that what he said?”

Grace knew it would drive him crazy as she answered, “His reaction isn’t any of your business.” Tim wanted so badly to be liked by her father, despite his claims of not caring. How devastating for her that he would probably be more upset to lose her father’s respect than to lose hers.

“You want me to apologize to him? I’ll do it.”

“It’s over, Tim. I am not interested in reconciliation and it has nothing to do with my–”

“Like hell you’re not! I’ll fight for this marriage–”

“Why?!” she cried. “You don’t want to be with me!”

“Of course I do! I married you, Grace! I love you!”

“You don’t.”

“Don’t you tell me what I do or don’t–”

“You cheated on me! You don’t cheat on people you love!”

“It was a mistake. I regret it! You get that on your recording? You got your little trophy? Turns out when a man is nagged by his wife it gets to him.”

“It’s not my fault!” Grace insisted. She felt like he was spinning around, trying to make her dizzy and confused.

“You want me to grovel? Is that it?”

“If I’m so awful as a wife, why do you even care that I want a divorce?” she countered. “Don’t you want to be free so you can be with those nineteen-year-olds.”

“I would never be with someone under twenty-five,” he grimaced. “And no, Grace, I want to be with my wife.” It was insane, the way he made it sound like she was the one hurting and depriving him here. She had thought her rage and pain had built enough of a bulwark around her heart for this conversation, but watching him lash out like this just drove the point in deeper. Maybe there was a small part of her that had hoped Tim would offer a valid excuse, or that his apology would feel sincere and enough and she could forgive him, love him again, save her marriage.

But all he had to say was that this was her fault and he’d made a mistake. He didn’t seem loving or apologetic as he grappled with a barely-controlled rage that had her checking that the chair wasn’t right behind her in case she needed to run. Tim wouldn’t hurt her physically… right? But two weeks ago, she wouldn’t have expected he could cheat on her either… well. Maybe that wasn’t totally true. Maybe she wasn’t actually surprised by all this. Was that better or worse than being blind-sided? It didn’t matter, she’d never be close enough with someone again to compare.

Her face must have shown some emotion that Tim seized upon, because he reached his hand out and insisted, “Come on, sweetheart. Stop this bullshit. We’ve been together too long. I know I fucked up and I’ll make it up to you. No need to call quits on us yet.”

“Is it because of the prenup?”

The question rolled out without a thought and she immediately regretted it.

What little restraint Tim had held through all of this snapped. Ah, the prenup. The one her dad had insisted on, that she almost hadn’t done in an effort to prove that she loved and trusted Tim. That he was worthy of trust.

“This isn’t about the fucking prenup!” he shouted in a way that made it very clear it was. At least in part. Grace was very familiar with that prenup, having just gone over it in detail with her divorce attorney. Their marital earnings would be split 50/50, but exclude any interest earned on the money either had before marriage, defined as a set dollar amount. Grace’s amount had been much larger than Tim’s. Tim would be safe from paying alimony despite the fact he made more now, unless a judge overruled their prenup on that point. But, probably the most stressful piece to Tim right now, was that he would owe her father the amount he had borrowed to start his consulting business, after his own parents wouldn’t loan him the money because the first one had folded. Grace had been so confident he’d succeed, she hadn’t even felt embarrassed by her father’s insistence on tying the loan to her prenup. She’d figured it was just a way to spare Tim’s ego at accepting the loan, since obviously he would always be a loving, devoted husband, and so it would forever remain just “family money” and not require payback. That consulting business too had gone under, the money was gone.

Until now. Now Tim owed her father $5 million dollars, on top of splitting his assets with Grace in half. She was not actually sure he even had the money, though she suspected he had multiple bank accounts in addition to their shared one. She had a second one, no harm in that, but at this point she doubted him on everything so who knew what he was hiding? So she had squashed her early instinct to be merciful and nodded when the attorney suggested he’s probably been using you for a long time; let’s take him to the cleaners.

“How fucking dare you bring up the prenup? The prenup doesn’t matter! We aren’t getting divorced! You know better than that! There’s no way your family supports you leaving me, we made a commitment to each other–”

“That you failed when you cheated on me.”

“And now you’re failing it worse by quitting! Don’t even talk about it anymore, I won’t go through with the divorce! We’ll take some time off work and go on a nice vacation together and do marriage counseling and then we’re going to put this whole thing behind us–”

“Until you cheat again?”

“Stop talking about that! You think I wanted to do that? But you’re such a bitch all the time and it wears a man down to have someone like you always nagging about what’s going on at work and whether I closed the deal and why can’t I be like your dad! Go fuck your dad then if you think he’s so fucking great!”

“Stop. Just stop talking,” she pleaded under the weight of his words. Probably the whole street could hear them right now, she realized. She was done with this conversation. She wanted it to end. Any sense of victory or enjoyment was now gone.

“No, you wanted to talk about our marriage! Let’s talk! You think you’re some poor suffering wife here? You’re barely a wife! You run around playing at being a real estate agent so you can spend money on that shit you call art and be some queen bee in the Society or whatever the fuck your family gets randy about–”

“Stop it, Tim!”

“Oh you don’t like us talking about you, huh?”

She grabbed her things, phone still clutched in her hand and tried to step around him to get to the house.

He grabbed her arm and she screamed, “LET GO OF ME!”

“Hey everything ok back there?” a male voice called, and for a brief moment Grace thought it was the pool guy again. Wouldn’t that be perfect? And yet a strange rush of relief came with the idea; Grace felt a desperation to hide behind any man who could make Tim go right now. So feminist of her, huh? She hated herself for the impulse and yet…

“Fuck off!” Tim shouted at the interloper.

“Ma’am?” the voice called again and now she could see the mailman by the back gate. “You need me to call someone?”

“I told you to fuck off,” Tim said, stepping around her to march towards the man now. Grace wanted to wilt under the mortification of a witness at the same time she felt a deep gratitude that someone had heard and actually stepped in. Who did that? The mailman! Even if her neighbors did hear anything right now, they were probably sipping mimosas by the window to hear what other dirty laundry came out.

“I’m fine, thank you,” she called to the mailman. “My ex-husband was just leaving.”

“Like fuck I am,” Tim said, whirling on her again. “This is my house. I’m not going anywhere. You do some thinking, Grace, and get your head together quick to save this marriage, because you need me more than I need you. You think anyone else is going to deal with your rich bitch attitude?”

“Who says I want someone else? I’m not shopping around, but I deserve not to be treated like this–”

“Yeah it’s all about what you deserve. You have no fucking clue what the world is like because first daddy protected you and now I’ve done the same thing and look where it fucking got me. Wasting our money on a goddamn divorce lawyer. We aren’t getting divorced!”

The mailman was still there and had pulled out his phone. Grace saw it and tried to gesture not to. Tim didn’t notice. He’d said his piece and stomped into the house, fuming. There was no way to slam the sliding door but he tried and his scream of rage almost cut through Grace’s fear to make her laugh.

But she didn’t laugh. She sank to the lounge chair, her legs shaking, her head throbbing. The air felt static in the wake of his fury.

“You ok?” the mailman called to her. “I can still call.”

“No, I’m fine. I’m so sorry you saw that. We’re… getting divorced and he’s not taking it well.” The first person she had told she was getting divorced: the fucking mailman.

“Good for you,” he said, but it sounded sincere. “I hope you leave that bastard high and dry. You sure you’re going to be ok? You have somewhere else to go?”

“I’ll be fine, but thank you.”

He seemed reluctant to go. She couldn’t believe he’d stepped in so much; she’d never traded a word with this man in her life though she did leave him a gift at the holidays. Merry Christmas, to our postal worker, because she didn’t know his name. Did she really seem like such a damsel? His hesitation twisted her emotions and she began to feel genuine anger. Couldn’t he see that this was embarrassing? She’d said he could go! He should go!

He was gone before the angry words rolled off her tongue, for which she was grateful. But then she was alone and that felt bad too. The yard felt eerily quiet and she wondered what Tim was doing inside. It scared her. She still believed he wouldn’t physically hurt her, but was that only because she wanted to believe that? He might be in there finding some other way to vent his rage: destroying her paintings or smashing TVs or who knew what.

She ended the video. It was long. She couldn’t bear to watch it but immediately sent it to her attorney, then called.

“Grace. I haven’t watched the video you just sent. Is there something wrong?” Lidiya asked.

“Tim isn’t handling news of the divorce well,” she admitted, her breath shaking as she blinked back tears. She felt like he was still standing there yelling at her. “I don’t think I can stay in the house with him. I mean, I can… but I don’t want to… but will I lose my stake in the house then? Abandonment?”

“No, not at all. He has made you feel unsafe. As long as you keep paying your part of the bills, it’s fine.”

“Hold on a second.” Grace looked up at the rumble of the garage door. A car door slammed and then Tim’s car peeled out of the garage.

“He left. I can breathe now.”

“Good. Catch your breath and go pack your things. Stay with a friend, family, hotel, it doesn’t matter. The disclosure is hard if the other person doesn’t see it coming. I won’t lie and say this will be the only hard part, but you will get through this and I’ll be right there with you.”

Grace wanted Lidiya to tell her she was doing the right thing, that this divorce was the right step. She knew it was. But it was one thing to know it and another to have Tim standing there yelling, twisting her around, making it sound like she was the cause for failure. And she hated this. She didn’t want to leave the house! She couldn’t pack up all her stuff so quickly so she’d have to leave things behind and hope he didn’t destroy them in his rage. She didn’t want to stay somewhere else. She didn’t want to admit to her friends and family any of this was happening, and staying somewhere else was a concrete step towards admitting this was happening. She loved this house! She hadn’t loved married life to Tim but she could pretend she had, to mourn the things she had thought were good. She wanted to keep lying by the beautiful pool, but Tim had ruined her day just like he had ruined everything else.

September

“So then she grabs my ass,” Jungkook explained, “and laughs. Like, right in my face with her nastyass cigarette breath.”

Yoojin reached around him to pull the cabinet open and search for a sippy cup lid, nearly clocking Jungkook in the head from where he sat on the counter.

“That’s so gross. Did she try to pretend it was an accident?”

“No. She asked me what kind of body oil I use. I was just sweaty! It’s fucking ninety-eight degrees out there today!”

Yoojin crinkled her nose and said, “That’s disgusting.”

“I know!”

“No, I mean you being that sweaty. Have you thought of getting a doctor to look into that?”

“Shut up, asshole,” he laughed, trying to kick the back of her knee as she sauntered away.

“Hey, not in front of my son!”

But Max not only wasn’t in the room, it would be highly unlike him to repeat anything he heard, despite their best efforts. His first birthday had just passed, but he still had only a few words he reliably used, much to Yoojin’s panic. She’d recently implemented a rule that everyone had to only speak English to him, in case speaking two languages at home was slowing him down. Eomma insisted he was clearly smart and just didn’t have anything to say yet, but it was a sore subject, likely to send Yoojin into a shrieking fit, like she had when Jungkook asked if the pediatrician had said anything about it. He still didn’t know if she’d even asked about it. He didn’t think fear or shame were a good reason not to ask the pediatrician though, even if it was them doing something wrong.

“Yeah, how would he feel to hear his mom is victim-blaming, huh?”

“I’m not victim blaming. If you’re so pissed about it… I don’t know. Tell your boss you won’t work at their house anymore or something. I thought you dealt with this all the time?”

“Not all the time. It was worse when I was a cabana boy, and those fuckers didn’t give a shit what we dealt with from guests. The guest is always right.” He shuddered. The tips had been phenomenal but ultimately not worth it. He still started on the defense around older women drinking by a pool or beach, at least that kind of older woman. You could always tell. Just like he’d known Mrs. Abigail Pender was trouble since he’d started working for them. He hadn’t thought she’d actually grab him like that, but he’d never felt comfortable around her. Just tried to be polite when she’d so brazenly flirt with him. Apparently all it took was three margaritas (she’d been bragging) and the encouragement of her friends (they’d been drunk too, watching from the patio.)

Jungkook still felt shaky about the whole thing, even though that was embarrassing too. It wasn’t like he thought Mrs. Pender was going to harm him or anything. But who knew what a pissy white woman was capable of? She’d looked shocked when he’d pried her hand off and said, “Please do not touch me, Mrs. Pender. I’m just here to clean your pool.” Like she’d actually thought he came by to flirt or something?! Now he debated whether to tell Bob about the incident or wait to see if she’d call to file some bullshit complaint. That had happened multiple times, and though Bob had been understanding about the call from Limpdick Birch a couple weeks ago, if this was the second woman complaining about Jungkook, at what point would Bob think Jungkook was doing something to cause it all? He wasn’t! He was just cleaning the fucking pools!

Well, except for the Birchs, where he had involved himself and was no longer cleaning the pool. He’d asked someone else to cover the last month of their cleanings for the summer and worried that was just going to make him look bad in light of any complaints from Mrs. Pender.

“Yeah, but I mean as a pool guy. Maybe you need to wear more clothes or something? Don’t look at me like that, I realize how it sounds but this is how it goes for women all the time. We should be allowed to wear whatever we want and not get assaulted. It doesn't mean we can.”

“It’s hot and I work outside,” Jungkook defended. “At least if a guy grabs you, you can deck him and everyone will agree it’s deserved. If I deck an old lady, I’m getting sued and going to jail.”

“Ooof, it’ll only be worse in prison.”

“Yoojin, that doesn’t help!”

“I’m sorry,” she sighed, screwing on the lid of the sippy cup and sloshing apple juice onto the counter. The sink was piled with dishes even though she and Max had been the only ones home for lunch. “What else do you want me to say? Cougars are gross. Get a different job.”

But Jungkook didn’t want another job. He sighed noisily as she left the kitchen. Yoojin wasn’t usually his first choice to complain to, because she tended to be unsympathetic at best, and usually just found a way to insist her story was worse. Yeah, Jungkook didn’t envy her raising her son alone –but she wasn’t really “alone.” She lived with his parents. Jungkook babysat a lot for free.

“If jobs are so easy to change, why don’t you have one?” he demanded, chasing after her.

“Get off my ass, I’m on round two of an interview!” She slapped at his arm. “Don’t make me sound incompetent in front of Max!”

Max had been reaching for Yoojin but Jungkook scooped him up, hotly defending, “I didn’t make you sound any way. Besides, if I quit my job, I probably can’t babysit for free anymore like this. You want to pay me?”

“You aren’t babysitting,” she immediately complained. “You’re uncling.”

“I’m letting you mooch off my time,” he insisted. But then, afraid she would actually take it as a complaint, he spun Max around and added, “It’s his fault, he’s too stinking cute. It’s hard being the favorite person but ah… a burden I must bear.” Max giggled and squished Jungkook’s cheeks and babbled. “Hey, do you think he just said ‘uncle’?”

“No, I don’t think he just said uncle. I wish! He won’t even say ‘mama’! What the fuck, right? Hey, next time one of the old crones hits on you, why don’t you just play dumb and point out they’re old enough to be your mom?” Yoojin asked. Her eyes sparkled like this sudden idea was the clear and obvious answer to all his problems.

“But they’re into that, that’s the problem,” Jungkook snorted.

“God I wish people thought I was old enough to be someone’s mom. I’m so sick of people asking if Max is my baby brother. Like what the fuck?”

“Language, Yoon. Or ‘fuck’ might be his next word,” Jungkook scolded her just to get a rise out of her. She opened her mouth, probably to let another string of curses out, butEomma and Appa swung the door open, back from grocery shopping. “Not a word about my work thing,” he said quickly to Yoojin. The last thing he needed was Eomma and Appa worrying about his job security or health and happiness. One time they’d found out about a woman harassing him as a cabana boy and they had actually gone to the resort to talk to his boss about employee protection and the next thing he knew, Jungkook was looking for a new job. The resort swore it had nothing to do with that, but Jungkook knew. Even though he couldn’t hate his parents for it, they had just been trying to help when there had been so little they could do for his brother. Not that they’d ever admitted that was a part of it, but honestly, marching into a resort to complain?! We didn’t come here for our children to be treated like this! He didn’t want them to think he needed that kind of help. He could take care of himself.

Besides, it wasn’t like Jungkook didn’t ever flirt to get good tips or reviews. He didn’t do that now, at least not with any women who would take it too far, but back then… eh, he’d hooked up a couple times with guests too, which was technically what he was fired for…

<“Eomma, Appa, I said I’d go shopping with you,>” Jungkook scolded in Korean, carrying Max over.

“Stop talking in Korean around him!” Yoojin cried. She was ignored.

Eomma assured him, <”We don’t need you to go grocery shopping with us. We had the time together.”>

<”You work tonight.”>

”Bye Eomma, Bye Appa, I’m going to my second interview. See? Speak English like that,” Yoojin said, trying to slide past them after she kissed Max on the head.

Appa’s face screwed up as he asked, “An interview dressed like that? What is this company again?”

“It’s a catering company, I told you. I have to look nice.” Now Junkook looked at her outfit and also thought it looked a little off for a job interview with a catering company. Her short black dress was pretty tight, and her heels were nothing like you’d wear to show you knew how to cater food and she had a small purse. Small purses meant date.

“Are you going on a date?!” Jungkook hissed, clamping a hand over one of Max’s ears as if to protect him. Max was far more interested in Jungkook’s shell necklace than in whatever his mom’s secret plans might be. “Am I babysitting for you to go on a date?!”

“No! It’s not a date! It’s an interview, I swear! I just dressed nice!”

Jungkook didn’t want to dig in too hard in case it was true and he made her cry –she could turn it on like a faucet in front of their parents and then he’d look like an ass. But Appa raised his eyebrow, also not convinced, and shuffled past with two bags of food.

Eomma nodded at her, <”Ok, good luck if it’s a job interview.”>

“You’re all bullies,” Yoojin huffed. It was impossible to tell if she was really upset by their doubt. Jungkook thought her lack of shouting might actually mean she really was going on a date and didn’t want to back herself into a corner confirming it. Jungkook bit his tongue, for now, but only because their parents were there, and Max was grunting like he was trying to poop. Jungkook would change the diaper, but he drew the line at holding the kid while he did the deed. He’d save the brotherly lecture for later. The last thing Yoojin needed to be doing while she was unemployed with a one year old was going on dates! Not to mention every guy she went after was just like her ex, and she threw a fit if you pointed that out to her. If she was going to date, at least Jungkook wasn’t going to babysit for free for it.

He wound up trading Eomma, so she got stuck with the diaper while Jungkook carried in the groceries and did his best to help put them away with some guidance from Appa. He’d wanted to help with the shopping so Eomma wouldn’t wear herself out before her shift at the nursing home; she was working nights this week.

<“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”> Jungkook asked Appa, before realizing it was Thursday so Appa had Go night at the community center in K-town. His days were off. He blamed it on not cleaning the Birch’s pool yesterday. He wondered if Mrs. Birch had noticed someone else came by, or if she’d even cared. Probably she was relieved. For all he knew, she’d called to ask for a replacement anyway and Bob just hadn’t mentioned it yet.

<”You and Max can come with me tonight,”> Appa suggested.

<”It’s tempting but uh…”> Jungkook scrambled trying to think of an excuse, before settling on, <”Yoojin told me not to take him there. You know, she just wants him hearing English. Maybe she mentioned that.”>

<”That’s not the problem! He’ll talk when he’s ready, in English or Korean!”>

Jungkook shrugged. At least the excuse worked. He didn’t feel like sitting around listening to Appa and a bunch of old men play games and talk about sports and weather. He had thought about taking Max to the beach to get him used to it early, but diaper bags were almost as much of a hassle as getting sunscreen on a baby, and after his morning, he didn’t feel up for it. Plus it was hot out. Maybe they’d go for a walk later or maybe they’d just play inside.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and it felt like he’d stuck a staple in an outlet. He left Eomma and Appa debating what to eat for dinner since both of them would leave early and carried Max with him back to what had become Max’s room once he moved out. He knew it would be Bob’s name on the screen before he even got his phone out of his pocket.

“Yeah, Bob? What’s up, man?”

“Hey, JK. I just got off the phone with–”

“It wasn’t my fault,” Jungkook blurted out. “I didn’t flirt with her or anything, she was just drunk and gossiping with her friends and then grabbed my ass.”

“Uh… who’s this now?”

“Shit. Uh… who did you get off the phone with?” Jungkook asked. He looked to Max for a shared grimace but Max saw toys now and squirmed to be let down so he could play. Jungkook collapsed onto the rug beside him and began nervously stacking blocks.

“I was just calling about the Breslins, they said they want to keep the pools at their properties open through the winter and it looks like it fits into your schedule now that you dropped the Birch house but what’s this about?”

“Ah, just… an incident with…”

“JK, man, I told you, you gotta tell me if there’s an incident. What house?”

“Pender. She got drunk and grabbed my ass. I told her not to touch me and that I was just there to clean the pool. She said some other things but went back into her house and I finished up and left, that’s it.”

“Pender, Pender…. Oh that’s why that name is familiar. You’re the second poolboy then. I don’t give third chances, I’ll let her know we’re dropping her account.”

“Wait, what?!”

“Good, that frees you up for the other Breslin properties. I’ll email you the new schedule.”

“No, wait, Bob, you can’t just drop a client, can you? Aren’t they going to… I don’t know, sue or review bomb or something?”

Bob’s chuckle over the line reminded Jungkook how much he actually did like this job, as he said, “Sometimes. And then what am I going to do, say she’s got to stop assaulting my pool techs. And then she wants to take me to court to prove it didn’t happen, and everyone’s talking about it now? Nah, she’ll bitch to some friends about what a shitty company we are. These people are petty but they’re lazy, and if it’s a repeat offender, they probably don’t want anyone opening the closet door. A couple people start coming forward, suddenly you’ve got a dozen people saying she’s assaulted them.”

“Bob…. thanks. I thought…”

“I’d fire you? I know I may not look like it now, but I was quite a looker back in the day. You think I never caught any eyes or wandering hands? I don’t have much, but my company and dignity are two things that can’t be bought. Well. Company might be bought if it was a really good offer…” He gave that jolly laugh of his again. “See you Monday, mandatory meeting.” And hung up, just like that, no problem.

Jungkook wanted to weep. He’d had enough overbearing, shitty bosses to know Bob was a real one. Not only was he not fired, he had a new schedule now. No Mrs. Pender. No Mr. Birch. No… Mrs. Birch. Which was for the best. It was. It was for the best that he wouldn’t see her again as she debated whether to stay with her shithead husband or go through probably a messy divorce… Yep. For the best. Not his business. He was just the poolboy, remember?

As relief surged through him, Jungkook took hold of Max, rolled onto his back and propped his nephew on his feet to airplane him. Max shrieked with delight; this had been one of his favorite games since he was little.

“Wait, you didn’t just eat, right? No spitting up on me, ok? Hurray, airplane Max!” Jungkook cheered, doing leg lifts with him because if he couldn’t make it to the gym or beach, might as well get some fitness in before their jaunt around the neighborhood. Jungkook was so relieved, he had the energy for adventure.

“Hey, maybe let’s head to the beach after all. You want to? You want to see your uncles and some crabs? You want to be a surfer baby? Yeah, let’s do it.”

January

Grace let out a sigh of relief when she stepped out of the terminal at LAX and felt warmth finally seep back into her bones. Seeing her family for Christmas had been nice, but she was glad to be away from Missouri’s brutal snow and windchill.

Just about the whole extended family had gathered, which was rare these days. Sure, she would have preferred spending the holiday with only her immediate family in Chicago, but maybe it had been better this way. It had meant more options for distraction every time someone tried to bring up her divorce, and fewer opportunities for one on one time that might lead to inescapable questions. Of course everyone had wanted to talk about it. It wasn’t a thing anyone in their family had done before. Ever. Her extended family’s horrific responses a constant reminder of that fact, everything ranging from aren’t you embarrassed for people to know your marriage failed? To well what was going on at home? Men cheat when something is wrong at home and that’s the wife’s domain to keep happy. She found herself wishing her family would just go back to making subtle digs about her weight and diet like they usually did. Not that they missed an opportunity to warn her to cut back on the stress eating and take up some activity, no need to let herself go.

Her immediate family… well, they seemed to be following her lead in just not talking about it at all. That was for the best. Even if some small part of her was desperate to talk to anyone except her attorney about it because fucking hell it was miserable!

She checked her email as she waited for a cab, fully expecting an email from Lidiya with some new bullshit Tim was trying to pull. Mediation was not going well, despite the ironclad prenup. Tim wanted to fight her on everything, and dragged his feet about the information he was required to share, and kept trying to find bullshit “leads” to chase down like he was a real detective. She couldn’t fathom what his play was: this was only going to end in divorce, and he was going to exhaust his finances long before she did hers. Lidiya had suggested he was hoping to burn through their cash without understanding that the court could require him to pay her legal fees alongside his even if he didn’t have the cash at the moment.

But now that the blinders were off, Grace had a new theory. She thought Tim might just not truly understand how money worked. Just like he hadn’t seemed to understand how their prenup worked, or how a marriage vow worked, or a home security system account, and certainly not how she worked. He’d made clear at every turn that he expected her to change her mind and realize she was making a mistake. Maybe that was truly the reason he was making this so miserable, to “give her time” to realize she was wrong.

No emails had come from Lidiya during her flight. No contact from Tim, either, which she carefully documented. Every text, every phone call, every “drop by” her rental condo to “give her stuff” after he’d somehow found out her new place. It wasn’t illegal to go near her, since she really had no grounds for a restraining order, but it was definitely annoying and stupid, clearly just an excuse to see what she was doing, or maybe as an intimidation tactic.. Grace suspected he was hoping she was having men over so he could try to counter that she had been unfaithful as well.

Part of her wished she had. As she watched the city pass outside the window, buildings spreading further apart and climbing into the multistories of wealthier neighborhoods of Santa Monica, Grace found herself again fantasizing about the petty things she’d rather be doing than fighting Tim in court. How delicious would it have been to be the one who cheated on him? To get her world rocked by someone else and then have Tim discover it and hurt as deeply as she did. Some hot young successful man Tim could never hope to compete with. A guy even came to mind, that art collector, Namjoon Kim. Intelligent, sophisticated, successful, a total hottie, and Tim hated him. He’d be perfect. How beautiful to get some sort of justice.

But there was no real justice to be got and she was not actually going to pursue something with the mild-mannered guy, especially not as vengeance against her ex. Hopefully she’d get the house, that might be a small justice. She loved that house. In fact, her mother had pulled her aside and offered to help buy the house out from Tim if she needed the money for it. It was the only reference to the whole thing her mom had made, and kindly meant, though Grace wasn’t sure that she wanted to co-own her own home with her mother. But it might be the only way…

As tempted as she was to drive by the house now, she worried Tim would be there. Possibly with someone. She didn’t want to let on that she really wanted the house or he’d obviously make it impossible. She tried to make it sound like she intended to stay permanently in the furnished condo she was renting. It was nice! But it felt nothing like a home.

Maybe she should get a pet? The thought struck her as she walked through the door. She could. Her family growing up always had dogs but she’d wanted a cat for as long as she could remember. Tim liked to say he was allergic but really he just didn’t like animals –which in hindsight ought to have been a warning sign. Not for the first time, Grace considered all the warning signs she had ignored. The rosy glasses of love really were more like blinders.

Grace set about unpacking her bags. Unpacking was obviously the worst part of travel and she usually procrastinated it but there was nothing else to take her time right now. She didn’t have a single active real estate client at the moment, no houses to stage or sell, and she enforced a strict “no paperwork” policy during her holidays. There weren’t any tv shows or movies she felt like watching, and she’d just sat on the plane for hours anyway, so not in the mood for reading either. Her fitness classes had already passed for the day and she hadn’t signed up for a general gym membership, though it had been on her to-do list because this condo complex didn’t have its own –one of several compromises she had made just to find somewhere fast.

God, do I really not have any hobbies? Grace collapsed across her bed and stared at the ceiling. That felt like a failure to her. She came from a family of always-doing-somethings. Hunting, riding, jet-setting, painting, hosting, visiting, gambling, taking up whatever club sport or craft struck a fancy and then abandoning it when it no longer served. Grace had ribbons from a half dozen sports lined up like a museum in the bedroom her parents still kept for her at their house but she didn’t fence anymore, no pool, no horse. It had been nice to ride again in Missouri.

She pursed her lips and considered tennis. She’d loved tennis. Hadn’t played it in a while, because she and Tim used to do that together and then he got too busy working –and fucking, probably. A game of tennis actually sounded good right now, without Tim.

But it would require inviting someone, and Grace didn’t even bother to pick up her phone to consider it. She had always thought of herself as adequately social, she had plenty of “friends,” but going through this divorce had made her question everything she’d hinged on that word. After overhearing the gossip about herself at the third party she had attended without her husband, she had decided to take a break from the social scene —which would inevitably lead to more gossip. It felt like letting the rumor mill win, but what was she supposed to do, clink a spoon against a champagne glass and confirm that yes, she was divorcing, because her husband had fucked around and she wasn’t wiling to overlook it? All these adequately-married couples she’d thought were her friends for years only asked after her to try and get the dirt on why her marriage failed. They expected her to be ashamed for the wrong reasons. She didn’t want to admit she hadn’t been enough, hadn’t been right for her husband; they wanted her to realize how stupid she was to let a stable-earner, social-charmer like Tim go. What was she going to do now, be alone? Boys will be boys. Just forgive him!

A few people had reached out in ways that felt sincere. Megan blew her phone up every couple of weeks when she went for brunch with “the girls.” Eva from the club had invited her to check out the new gallery opening she patronized, which seemed thoughtful and not geared towards gossip or lecture. Stephanie, who Grace had known since they were girls and had moved to LA only a couple years before, just sent condolences and suggested a girl spa-weekend/ski trip “without the boys.” Kindly meant, even if it revealed the rumor mill had reached her; Stephanie was a different social circle than the Santa Monica club, but Grace hadn’t told her about the divorce.

Grace had brushed everyone off. As she and Tim warred over who would “keep” which “friend” group, Grace found herself doubting who she could trust. Abigail Pender, after hosting one of the parties Grace attended, apparently reported Grace’s presence to Tim, and afterwards she’d received a scathing voicemail from him saying he had known the Penders longer so she shouldn’t go to their parties anymore. Even though he hadn’t gone! And maybe he’d known them longer, having met Mark Pender on a golf green, but she was the one who’d put forth the effort to build and maintain the friendship –mainly because he thought Mark could be a useful friend for him, business-wise. She’d done that with all of them! Tim had always been happy to carry a case of beer to a cookout, or fire up their own grill, but she was the one who planned the events, bought the meat and beer, made sure everyone was having a good time, followed up for the lunches and fishing trips and whatever else got mentioned to make sure these things actually happened.

All that effort and Grace felt like she’d lost it all. Now she finally began to understand the warning her mother had given when Grace had finally called home to say she was divorcing: “Divorce is like burning the house down and you’re still in it, Grace. Really think about this.”

Would she have done anything differently? She couldn’t say. But she did know it was really fucking lonely now, not knowing who were actually her friends. She missed her house. And she felt pathetic, lying there on her bed, not sure what to do with her time. Tim didn’t own her hobbies, so why couldn’t she think of any? She’d been putting so much energy into her marriage and the social network Tim required to feel secure and connected and successful.

Damn, did that make her as bad as everyone else? But the social networks were just like that. Sometimes you genuinely like the people you invited to dinner and other times it was because there was some business or family connection, or potential, or some unspoken duty to be friends because your distant cousin had married the niece of their best friend.

Now Grace had failed the social contract by leaving her two-timing (well, at least four-timing) husband and she didn’t want to hear about it anymore. She didn’t trust anyone. She didn’t want to risk getting asked about it more, as if it was a news headline that affected them all but not personally or emotionally. She was very personally and emotionally affected! Didn’t anyone want to talk to her about something else? Was poor divorced woman all they saw when they looked at her now? She had been someone before her marriage, and during her marriage, and she would be someone again soon!

Once she figured out what she actually liked without Tim’s opinion weighing on her shoulder.

Once she discovered which foods she actually liked instead of the ones they’d ordered just because he did.

Once she figured out how to reclaim her social life from that thieving new-money bastard.

Once she could find a place to live that didn’t look so cold and generic and neutral. She knew neutral colors were all the rage now. This was what new money thought elegance looked like, she’d heard that plenty of times from her mother.

Ugh, what did Grace like? What did she want to do?

Grace wanted….

Grace liked….

Grace didn’t want to be in bed right now, so she showered and changed clothes to get the smell of travel off. And she walked to get a coffee from down the street just to be among Californians again.

Then, on an impulse she decided to give into, Grace drove to the animal shelter. It was almost shockingly easy to fill out the paperwork. She didn’t know whether her rental allowed pets but didn’t care, she put her address as the house she was determined to move back into once mediation granted it to her. She googled a vet reference on the way, assuming they wouldn’t check –they didn’t– and listed her sister as her personal reference, assuming they wouldn’t call –they didn’t.

“Shouldn’t they make it harder to adopt?” she mused on the way home, carrier wedged into the front seat beside her, back seat packed with a splurge worthy of her sister’s shopping habits.

Foam said nothing, just peered through the mesh with the big eyes that took up an odd amount of his face, one ear flicking. The nub of his other ear swiveled when she turned the car.

“Almost home,” she said. Suddenly Foam let out a high-pitched yeowl and turned a somersault in his carrier, then curled up in the back. “Sh sh sh, almost home.”

The narration wasn’t important; deaf little Foam couldn’t hear her anyway, but that hadn’t stopped her from talking to him at the adoption center and it wouldn’t stop her now as she hauled the carrier and bags into the condo. She would order a cat tree for him, and a better scratching post, and whatever else struck her fancy, but at least for now he had bedding and food and toys and treats to mark this completely new chapter of his life. From kill shelter to rescue agency and now to life with Grace, she hoped this was going to be a better future for both of them.

As soon as he was out of the carrier, he climbed her like a tree; she flinched at the pinpricks of his claws until he’d reached her shoulder, trying to nestle himself onto her chest like he had at the center. That’s when she’d been a goner. He couldn’t hear her but he could feel the vibrations of her speech and had purred and nuzzled beneath her chin and really Grace had almost broken down in the room as she stroked his gray and white fur. The rescue thought he might be a Singapura-American shorthair mix but Grace couldn’t care less what he was. No one wanted this beat up scrawny deaf kitty, and Tim hadn’t wanted her.

“Fuck Tim, you’re all I need,” she beamed, arms around Foam as she swayed.

Apparently he didn’t even need a period to warm up to her, which would have been understandable. She would never know what his life had been like in the five years before he’d got to her, but that didn’t matter either. Suddenly the future looked so much better; already Grace was thrilled to hear the padding of little feet as Foam explored his new home. He shadowed her as she did a pass to make sure there wasn’t anything obviously dangerous for a cat and put on some music and grabbed her laptop to read more about cat ownership. She wondered if Foam would be the kind of cat who’d be happy hiking on a leash or in a backpack…

She’d always wanted a cat and now she had a perfect one. Maybe building the life she wanted, only for herself, wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

March

A lot of people kept their pools open year-round, but there were still enough to closed them for the winter that March always saw a surge in business. Jungkook had spent the winter working mostly on commercial properties, which was stable and all, but he was glad to see his schedule shift back towards more private residences. Not that he liked dealing with snotty rich people, but there were plenty of middle class families too who didn’t treat him like garbage. And hey, maybe his ego could use a little stoking from the non-handsy variety of women, just the ones who admired and flirted a little, because winter had not been kind to him in the dating sphere. Teona had come back into his life for a whole month before deciding he still hadn’t grown up enough. He’d had a string of dates that he shelled out good money for only to find himself ghosted or even blocked afterwards. When he’d drunkenly demanded of Jimin “is it me? Am I a creep?” his friends had taken the shit out of him a little too well. He was still bothered not to know whether they were just teasing or really did think he was a fuckboy.

The tide was out on dating and Jungkook saw spring as a chance to refocus on work and surfing and the band and let the universe steer his dating life for a while. Probably straight into a wall, but if he was going to end up there anyway, he might as well blame it on the universe.

“You’re hot but you don’t have any substance,” he murmured, repeating the words his latest date via an app had provided when he asked if there was any particular reason she didn’t want a second date. He’d liked her. He had thought the question would reflect well on him, and anticipated her answer being something like oh the sparks just weren’t there or you’re great but I realized I just don’t have time for a relationship right now. Maybe even I realized I was going to fall too hard and fast for you, it scared me. Nope. Hot but no substance.

What did that even mean? Jungkook had so much substance! He had hobbies and interests! He cared about his family! He was good with babies! He played the guitar and drums and sang and worked out and he could cook. He had a stable job and only played a reasonable amount of video games and he knew how to listen. Wasn’t that enough?! What else did women want??

He was still grumbling to himself as he parked at the Cool Pool Inc. building to confirm his schedule and grab a company truck for the day. Bob had sent them out the night before, but Jungkook had a few questions. Namely, about the typo on his schedule regarding the Birches.

“Huh? The Birches?” Bob finally said, looking up from his computer on the third repeat. “Oh, you’ve still got the house but it’s not the Birches anymore. Didn’t you look at the addresses?”

“Yeah but it says the Hessers. Did you mix up the address?”

“No. They bought the place, Birches don’t live there anymore and wherever they moved, I dunno, they aren’t using us anymore.”

Jungkook’s brow lowered in thought. That couldn’t be right. Granted, maybe there weren’t Birches anymore if Mrs. Birch-or-whatever-her-name-was-now had gotten her head on straight and left that twichy-dicked corn chip. He looked at his list of names again but didn’t see her name listed anywhere.

“Maybe they changed their name,” Jungkook suggested. “Or I mean, she did. Did we get any new customers from another address with the first name… Cornelia?” It was just a name, but he felt wrong to say it, like he wasn’t supposed to know, even though it had always been written on his schedule. Hers had been the primary name on the account: Cornelia Birch, even though she had introduced herself to him as “Grace” that first time he’d cleaned for them. It had made sense to him, in a way, that she wouldn’t give her real name to be used casually by a contractor. And ‘Mrs. Birch’ had felt like the proper way to call her anyway –in the beginning because that’s just a thing he did, to charm the rich white ladies with his manners, but later because calling her by her name would have felt intimate or wrong. They weren’t on the same level. She was older and rich and he would just have felt weird about it, ok? Calling her by her first name or a nickname, like they were casual friends. Besides, was she really called Cornelia? That was such an old lady name… He kind of liked that about her though. She had a weird name, and people always thought his name was weird too.

Bob’s eyebrows lifted. He smacked his lips and glanced at the computer as if going to check but then answered without checking,

“Nope, no new Cornelia anything. Why, you looking for her?”

“No,” Jungkook quickly assured him. “Just… you know, she’s the one who was so serious about their pool, just wanted to know if she closed the account or just moved to a new house–”

“And changed her name?”

Jungkook shrugged, “I dunno, divorces happen…”

“Or you want to know if Timothy Birch’s calls complaining about you cost us an account?” Bob countered, like he could see it all before him.

“It wasn’t my fault he complained about me, he was just like that. I hope for her sake, she did leave his ass, he was an asshole.”

Bob chuckled at this show of passion and shook his head, lecturing, “Marriages are a complicated thing, son. Maybe you’ll get it someday. But no, no Timothys, Cornelias, or Graces, Birch or otherwise.” He was already feeling nervous that Bob would think he’d been involved as much as he had been though and didn’t want to dig in more.

“Ok,” Jungkook shrugged. “I got my schedule then. See ya, boss.”

“Keep it fresh, JK,” Bob said, one of the phrases the younger employees had taught him. He was a good one, that Bob. Jungkook waved over his shoulder as he grabbed the keys to his truck to head out.

And yet, he couldn’t shake the suspicion from his mind. So… did that mean Mrs. Birch and Slim-Jim Dick had divorced? Or just moved somewhere else? He decided to hit up the new owners of that residence first, but still half expected it to be one of the Birches up until he knocked on the front door to introduce himself.

“Great,” the man, Adam Hesser, greeted him with a firm handshake. “We were told by the previous owners your company had been managing the pool so I take it you know what to do? We’re going to keep it open year-round so just keep it nice, our kids will use it a lot. Let me know if you need anything.”

Jungkook nodded, “Yeah yeah, for sure, man. Hey, so you spoke to the previous owners? Which one? Did they say where they were moving?”

“No, I didn’t really, they just had a list of previous contractors.”

“Ah, ok. I’m glad they recommended us. I’ll keep it looking good, head on back on there now. Nice to meet you, Mr. Hesser.”

Gone. That made Jungkook think they’d divorced although he couldn’t be sure. Maybe the Birches were the kind of people who’d decide they had to do everything and anything to save their marriage and they’d moved to Spain or something. Even if they’d divorced, Mrs. Birch might have moved somewhere else. Maybe she wasn’t even in the area anymore, or maybe she didn’t have a pool, which he’d feel sad for her about since she seemed to like it.

Or maybe she did and had just decided to use a different pool cleaning service.

“Wouldn’t that be fucked up?” Jungkook demanded, leaning in close to make sure his buddies heard him over the noisy bar. Taehyung, Jimin, Hoseok, and Soyoon circled the high-top. Taro was here somewhere too, probably networking. Yoongi had already bailed, claiming he had work early but probably just to get away from the place. He only really hung out at bars if there was music he wanted to catch, and even then bounced the second the bands were done.

“Uh… yeah,” Jimin nodded, but he had a look like he didn’t understand why.

“Because I was great at what I did,” Jungkook insisted. “I kept the pool looking great so if she –if they have a new pool and decided to use someone else instead, it would be personal, right? Because I was the best professionally.”

“Didn’t you have a fight with her in her backyard about whether she ought to divorce her husband?” Soyoon asked. Jungkook glared. Hard. He had told her that in drunken confidence and of course she had then casually mentioned it to everyone else without a second thought.

“Yeah, kinda weird,” Taehyung grimaced. “Almost as weird as giving her a video of her husband fucking another woman that you filmed through their window…”

“Hey!”

Jimin came to his defense, insisting, “It’s because he was emotionally compromised.” Wait, that wasn’t the defense Jungkook had hoped for.

“The fuck does that even mean?” Jungkook scowled.

“Aw, it’s because you always had a crush on her, right?” Hoseok asked, his gaze sliding to Jimin as if to confirm this, or make sure it was ok to say. It wasn’t!

“Not in a real way,” Jungkook defended. “Just in like a… a Stacy’s Mom kind of way.”

“That song is fucked up,” Soyoon huffed. “If you reversed the genders, that would be a felony.”

“Sex with a minor is still a felony but they didn’t have sex,” Taehyung countered. “He was just creeping.”

Jimin made a face and admitted, “Really, you think it was just the guy being horny for her? I mean she came out in a towel while he was mowing the lawn, right? No one is surprised by a lawnmower. She knew he was out there.”

“Do you ever see people do things like that when you’re working?” Hoseok asked Jungkook with open curiosity. “Like in just a towel or–”

“Or fucking someone else in the kitchen?” Jimin laughed and threw his arm around Hoseok’s shoulder. “Yeah, he sees it all!”

Jungkook made a face and admitted, “Yeah, I see the towel thing happen.”

“Yeah and is it ever an accident?” Soyoon demanded.

Mrs. Birch didn’t mean to see me when she came up from the home gym in her sports bra. He kept that memory to himself, since these fuckers couldn’t hold anything sacred.

“Eh, sometimes,” he decided. “Sometimes it’s on purpose, but other times it’s just because they just don’t give a shit about you. Like, you’re not even a real human so what do they care if you see them in their towel? But other times yeah it’s on purpose.”

“What’s that show… Desperate Housewives? Wasn’t someone fucking a poolboy in that? It probably gave all the old ladies ideas.”

“Is that show even still on? That’s really old. My mom watched that.”

They looked at Jungkook, who had to explain, “Uh… I don’t… know? I don’t watch that shit.”

“Oh, you know what show I just saw that was great…” Taehyung said, changing the subject further away from what Jungkook had wanted to do: complain about his lack of closure on the Birches.

He grabbed another beer and pretended to follow along, but mostly he was just thinking about how he regretted bailing on those final two weeks of cleaning at the Birches. If he’d gone, maybe he would know what was going on with them, or where they’d gone. It wasn’t like he expected anyone to leave him a note, but it felt wrong for them to just disappear. It felt… bad. He felt bad. He was the one who had sent the tape and while he was sure it had been the right thing to do, he would like to know that was true from Mrs. Birch-called-something-else telling him how grateful she was. Cornelia. Fucking Cornelia. Maybe that was another reason he always called her Mrs. Birch, he just couldn’t bring himself to call her Cornelia. Or Grace, a nickname, which felt even more intimate?! Cornelia wasn’t a name you could say as you fucked a woman slowly against the side of the pool, and Grace was so short… Gracie might make for a good–

Fuck! Abort! Too much beer! Fuck, he was horny, that was all. It wasn’t about her, he’d just crossed the streams of two different thoughts. Never cross streams.

Besides, now he’d never call her anything. She hadn’t had the opportunity to tell him she was grateful or even just reassure her by her happiness that he’d done the right thing. Which he had. Even if she had not seemed grateful when they’d fought about it.

Damnit, couldn’t a guy get closure about anything? Sure he’d had a fantasy crush about her but he was a good guy, he also just wanted to know that she was happy and doing well. Maybe he could google her…

He pulled out his phone and wandered off, mumbling about getting another beer so no one would see his phone screen as he typed in Cornelia Birch.

A shocking number of results came back. He leaned against the bar and scrolled in disbelief, but the links were all to dense text webpages and he had drunk enough that the letters looked blurry and he didn’t feel like reading a lot right now. Besides, he couldn’t tell if the Cornelia Birch who sat on art boards and was a part of some trust or whatever was her or if it was a common rich white lady name. There were no pictures. Except for a table sold by Wayfair, the “Cornelia,” part of the Birch Lane furniture line. That was kinda funny. White ladies and high end furniture lines, that made sense. He started to type in Grace Birch to see if that got different results, just in case she actually did use that as more than a name to give poor peasants so they wouldn’t sully her proper dignified name when–

“Excuse me, are you ordering or…?” He looked up at the hand on his arm, and the owner of the hand: a pretty blond, tanned and green-eyed.

“Oh, yeah sorry, am I in your way?” He scooted to the side and she pressed in. The bartenders had ignored him but came right over for her. She surprised him by motioning for him to tell his order to.

“Can’t believe they make you wait here,” she said to him.

“You waited ten seconds…”

“No, I mean you. If you can’t get a drink then I don’t get it.”

Jungkook was tipsy and confused. But he nodded and didn’t point out he’d been on his phone and also that he wasn’t sure he’d wanted another beer anyway. But one was brought, and on a whim, he told the bartender to put hers on his tab too.

“You don’t have a tab open,” the bartender pointed out. Which was annoying because they knew him here and that he was good for it. It embarrassed him in front of the girl. He slid his card over and pretended to be smooth about it.

“Thanks for the drink,” she beamed at him. “I’m Mary.”

“Another old lady name…”

“What?”

“Nothing, so, you new around here? Don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

“You know everyone who comes here?” she teased.

“Just about. Except the tourists. You wouldn’t happen to be one of those, would you?”

“No. I live here, I just never come to this part of town.”

He nudged her closer, away from someone trying to get by, as he pressed, “Then what made you come tonight?”

“My girl friend had a date and wanted a backup, you know? But apparently that went well because she already left.”

“Wait… so your girl space friend, right? Not your girlfriend?”

“What?”

Jungkook decided she must not have a girlfriend, he was just confusing them both.

“So… are you leaving then?”

“No. Why, you want me to go?” she laughed.

“Nah. Just checking.” He chugged half his beer to find some liquid courage. He couldn’t believe his luck. A random girl hitting on him in the bar? Great. Perfect thing to distract him from the fact he’d never know what happened to Mrs. Birch. Besides, so what? It didn’t matter. She was just some lady he cleaned pools for.

“So what do you do?” Mary asked him.

“I’m a pool technician,” he answered. “And I also teach surf and work as a lifeguard sometimes.”

“Ah, that explains the muscles. I can tell you’re fit.”

“I drum too. It’s a pretty good workout, no one ever realizes that.”

“Yeah, full body. I don’t play but I mean, I’ve seen people drum.”

He grinned. Yeah, she was into him.

“What about you?”

“Oh, I’m a senior at USC.”

Jungkook swallowed hard and drank more beer to give himself time to count. Senior… so she was twenty? Twenty one? Twenty two at most probably. He was twenty-six, that wasn’t… too bad…

“What’s that look?” she laughed.

“You’re young.”

“What?! How old are you?”

“Twenty-six.”

“What? I thought you were like, my age,” she laughed. “I’m twenty one.”

He tsked and shook his head, trying not to smile and ruin the joke as he teased, “A baby.”

“Hey, you’re the one with the baby face.” Ah, he kinda hated it when girls said that, even if he knew it was true.

“Because I’m Asian?”

“What?!” she gasped. “Oh my god! I would never say that! I didn’t mean it like that!”

“I’m kidding. I know.”

“Oh my god, I am not like that. I don’t care who or what someone is, if they’re hot, they’re hot.” She was clearly really offended by his joke, or maybe too drunk to be calm about anything.

He nudged her and prompted, “So you think I’m hot?”

Within an hour he knew she did. She’d said it enough times, her nails digging into his chest and abs as she bounced on his dick, the springs of his mattress screaming beneath them. He grabbed her hips and pulled her down, eyes slitted so he could just make out the circles of her nipples and the pink folds of her pussy around his girth. She was thin and perky and had an absurd bikini tan despite admitting she never went to the beach. Total California girl in the purchased, store-bought way.

Which was fine by him. She could be from California or New York or Florida or Timbuktu for all he cared right now. Her energy was great; his drunk brain felt like a tornado of pleasure touched down where her body stroked his.

“We’re going to break your bed,” she giggled.

“Nah, I would have broken it by now.”

“Oh my god, you’re a dick,” she giggled, and slapped him on the face. He didn’t love that but it wasn’t hard enough to hurt. It wasn’t like a dealbreaker or anything. He definitely wasn’t going to pull out for that. It just seemed wrong for this younger girl to do something like that in sex. If someone was going to slap him… ah, Mrs. Birch could slap him. He thought about it with a grin, sinking into the alcohol-logged fantasy he was drunk enough not to stop this time. He let his hands flop out and spread his legs and surrendered. Mrs. Birch could do whatever she wanted to him. She had that fit body but with way more curves than Mary. Small tits were fine but Mrs. Birch’s were bigger, they’d bounce. She had some jiggle to her thighs. If he grabbed her by the ass, he’d get at least a handful. Mary’s assbones were pulverizing his thighs. But Mrs. Birch in that white swimsuit, maybe a size smaller so her body started busting out of it…

Jungkook grabbed Mary’s hips and nutted pretty quickly after that, wordless at the rush of pleasure as a mental image of Mrs. Birch with swollen nipples straining against a white wet suit filled his head in the moments before it all went blank. He rolled Mary onto her back and got in a final stroke and gasped for breath back into his lungs. When she pushed against his chest to get him to sit up, he sat there just gasping while her eyes and hand roamed his stomach, her other hand rubbing herself furiously. He watched with the kind of fascination he always had for a woman cumming: it was a beautiful thing no matter who the woman was. This fake-beach babe looked hot as hell spasming around his spent dick and he made sure to tell her so as he gripped the condom and eased himself out of her.

“You think so?” she taunted. “Because your eyes were closed a lot.”

“Nah, just hard to keep ‘em open when it felt so good,” he assured her. “Trust me, I was looking.” She’d rolled onto her side and he smacked her ass.

“Ouch, too hard,” she complained with a giggle. And reached behind him for the blunt she’d pulled out earlier but abandoned when he’d pulled her shirt off.

He padded to the bathroom to rinse off and toss the condom, then accepted the blunt when she handed it to him, one arm crooked behind his head in absolute relaxation. Balls empty, brain empty, best night.

She was just nice to him, that’s why he wanted to know whatever happened to Mrs. Birch. Not enough he’d actually look through those google search results or anything. He was just curious. He just wanted closure because she’d been nice to him before and he didn’t feel great that the last time he’d ever see her, they’d had a fight. Hopefully by now she had realized he was right.

“Hey,” he said after blowing smoke towards the ceiling. “If you were married and your husband cheated on you, you’d fucking divorce him, right?”

“Geez, proposing to me already?” she giggled and took the blunt back.

“No, I’m just saying, that’s what you do, right?”

Mary nodded emphatically, “Yeah, this is the 21st century, no woman should stay with a cheating piece of shit.”

“That’s what I’m saying. You get it.”

“Oh my god… you aren’t married or anything, right?”

Jungkook laughed loud and gestured, crying, “You saw my house! I live with a bunch of dudes!”

“Oh. Right. I wasn’t really thinking about anything like that.”

“Just thinking about my dick?” he grinned.

“Yeah, and how bad I wanted it,” she agreed, rolling against his arm. “And it did not disappoint.”

“See? That’s what I’m saying,” he said again. “You get it.”

“Yeah, I got it good.” Just as Jungkook started to gloat, she asked, “Hey, you got anything harder than this?”

“Than… what?”

“Than pot.”

“No. Take it from your elders, don’t do anything harder than pot,” he snorted. Just like that, warm cozy fantasy of success with Mary started to crumble. Ugh. What was he even doing with a college-age girl he picked up in a bar? One clearly surfing for dick and apparently coke too?

No. No regrets. Not while his dick was still twitching with satisfaction.

“You’re not my dad,” she snickered, before whispering into his ear, “Unless you want me to call you ‘daddy.’”

“You call me daddy, I’m going to spank you a lot harder than that,” he warned. Honestly, he wasn’t really into the name but he also didn’t want to chase her off with a denial. Not when he felt this good. Whatever, he could play along. He could stomach being daddy for another round…

She handed him the blunt and watched him; he felt her gaze even with his eyes closed in the low light.

“Are you thinking about someone else?” she asked. “Who were you talking about? Someone cheated on who? Your sister or something?”

He nearly choked as he sat up and insisted, “Yeah I am not thinking about my sisters while I’m fucking.” That made her laugh harder. She choked too, coughing hard as she took the blunt back to set in the bowl on his nightstand.

“Then who?”

“Nobody. I just knew you’d understand.”

“Yeah, I’m great like that. Hey, can you spot me money for a lyft back home?”

“Just spend the night, I don’t mind.”

“.... no thanks. You’ve got like a lot of laundry in here…”

“Yeah, tomorrow is laundry day,” he lied, but her criticism made him run a little colder.

“Yeah it was just an observation. I have class early though I gotta go.”

He sighed and pushed himself out of bed to see what cash he had. Only a twenty, which she gladly took before ordering a car that would go on her card anyway. Damn college girls. He got her a glass of water and made sure she got in the car ok before returning to his room. There wasn’t that much laundry in his room. Maybe he’d been in a hurry changing between surfing and work and going out but so what? He hadn’t expected to bring someone back tonight. If she was so particular they could have gone to her place. She probably had laundry everywhere too.

Dizzy now between the pot and alcohol, Jungkook realized with regret there was no way he’d drag himself out of bed in time to catch the morning surf. He had lifeguard duty and family stuff this weekend too, and band practice Sunday, so tomorrow morning was his only chance. And now Mrs. Birch was gone and he had missed the last two cleanings at her place because he’d been too sulky about her being mad at him. He’d fucked, that was great, his balls were drained, but at what cost? Was it really worth it? Was something wrong with Jungkook to wonder if maybe other things in life were even better than sex–

Wait, Mary had early classes on a Saturday!?

Chapter Two | Masterlist | Chapter Three

#jungkook ff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x oc #jeon jungkook x oc #over the falls #jeon jungkook ff #jungkook smut #jungkook series #jungkook au #poolboy jk #jungkook domestic fluff

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arielstruggles · 11 months

Text

Confrontations and All

The Dawn of Regret ch.3

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem Reader

Summary: Sometimes, a bad incident leads something good. You finally decided to confront with Joel and set the record straight.

W.C: 4.1k

Warnings: Smut (mdni), oral (giving and receiving), mentions of death, mentions of traumatic events, slight angst, big fat age gap as usual, praise kink, fluff, cum eating (?) that's it i guess.

A/N: I don't want to rush anything so i understand if you find it a bit boring sorry:( I have a final for this in my mind and if i don't change it, it will be heartbreaking. Like really. But in order to do that i have to deepen the story. I am not sure if will use that ending though. Anyway, if you read this ilysm, enjoy!

you can read chapter 1 and 2 in here.

Normally, you'd feel happy. He was sleeping in your arms, there was not even inches between your bodies. It’s like a fever dream. But considering your unresolved issues, you don’t feel happy at all. Quite the opposite, you feel uneasy. You don’t even know what you are supposed to do now. You had a crush on him, you fucked then you had hell of an argument, you acted like nothing happened even though it broke your heart into million pieces. Because he didn’t even care, or at least you thought so. But he saved you, so maybe he… you don’t know. When he sleeps and you wrap your arms on his torso from behind, when you can smell him… It is impossible to think straight. It should not be this complicated right? If he wants you then he wants you if he doesn’t then he doesn’t. But it is not that simple. Not with Joel Miller. He has so many different layers, whenever you think you reached him there is another layer. His moral codes and traumas cause him to thicken his shell brick by brick. So, it is not that easy for you to reach him. Even now, you can’t guarantee that he’ll be an easy person. You have experienced something deep, it definitely changed the direction of your relationship, or at least you hope so, but even then, it won’t be easy to get along with Joel. Not that he is a bad person, no. but because he is a complex man with hell of a past. Maybe he does not want to deal with someone like you or maybe he does not find you attractive enough you don’t know. Your eyes dart into his relaxed features. His brows are not furrowed, he does not look at you like you are garbage. He does not seem mean or scary. He seems like an angel. The greys in his hair are more visible than ever since you are able study him carefully. His lips are slightly parted. His chest raises with each breath he takes in. You want embrace him tightly, you want to say him that everything is gonna be okay but you don’t even know if it will ever be. He looks so handsome, oh he is really handsome. Your body feels with desire. You imagine yourself on your knees before him, wrapping your lips around his thick cock; veins pulsing inside of your mouth, cuming inside your mouth while he strokes your hair. You lick your lips thirstily. The images in your mind are so clear that you can feel the salty cum inside your mouth. You want him to take care of you, you want him to protect you. After all those lonely years, you crave affection. You know he’d do that perfectly. But you are not sure if he is willing to do that.

You hear him humming so you put your head back into pillow immediately afraid of getting caught. “I know you are not sleeping.” A blush blooms in your cheeks in return he chuckles. As if your body gets the signal you feel relaxed instantly you didn’t even know you were holding your breath. He laughs which means it is not gonna be a bad conversation. “I guess I was not sneaky enough.” “nah, I’m just at alert. I felt when your hands got off of me.” silence lingers around the room while you both lay in bed. Ten minutes ago, you were imagining blowing him but now you want to cuddle and get cozy. But you can’t help the uneasiness grows inside your chest. You are dying to ask him about your “future”. You are not sure the response he’ll give you so you can’t convince yourself to ask but not knowing is the worst. A sigh leaves your lips and Joel’s eyes focus on you. You stare into each other’s eyes. His warm chocolatey eyes are like heaven’s gate in the middle of an apocalypse. You want to erase the stupid smile forming on your lips but you can’t. For a brief moment you forget that you basically mean nothing to him. “You must be starvin’ gonna getcha something to eat.” He says and moves but you grab his wrist tightly “don’t go.” You are needy in a degree that is embarrassing. “’kay” he says and stays in bed with you. When he pulls you on his chest, it surprises you. You are not used to this. “Joel?” he does not say anything but hums to encourage you to talk. “Don’t think I’m putting pressure on you or anything but what’s gonna happen now?” he sighs in return. “Dunno sweetheart.” “Look, I understand if you don’t like me or anything like that but you’re giving mixed signals.” “I am trying to push you away but your stubborn ass finds her way around me.” you want to refuse but it is sort of true. “I am in no position to decide for you but whatever you’re feeling right now, whether it’s shallow or deep don’t get too attached to me. My days are numbered. Even if everything works out, I am thirty years short of life compared to you.” “Ah, Joel! Stop with that bullshit please. Stop using that as an excuse.” For the first time you have known Joel you are able to confront him properly. “that ain’t an excuse that’s the damn truth.” “what’s your real concern? You scared of people judging you because you fuck someone whose half your age? Are you scared Joel? Are you a coward? I don’t expect anything from you if that’s your concern. Just let me love you.” as a response he kisses you passionately. “Know your place missy, I ain’t a coward. I’m just trying to protect you.” you kiss him back and climb on his lap, his large hands grab you by the waist; thumbs drawing circles on your shirt but you can feel his touch in your bones. Your kiss deepens with each passing second, you bite his lower lip. With the moan falling from his lips, you grin. Your tongues dance with each other harmoniously. You press yourself down on his cock. Heat spreads inside your core. “Joel, I need you.” “tsk tsk tsk I don’t think you deserve to get what you need right now.” He says huskily. “What do you mean?” “I’m still mad at you for leaving your goddamn house all by yourself. You were a bad bad girl, got this old man all worried.” You whine in return. “Joel, that’s not fair.” He holds you tightly and picks you up to living room and leaves you on his couch. “Now be a good girl and you may get your reward at the end of the day. Imma get you something to eat.” He leaves living room and heads to kitchen leaving you alone.

Different thoughts race in your head. You are not in a relationship and he made it clear that he is not exactly happy about this whole age gap thing, but he is not reluctant to fuck you either. Maybe he just sees this as just a physical thing. Well, at any rate you are willing to be with him. Even if the feeling is not mutual, he is trying to take care of you. That’s more than enough. Your body overflows with excitement. He is preparing you something to eat, he said at the end of the night he may fuck you. Your one time sex was good but unexpected and resulted with failure. This time he also seems like he wants it. He acts so confusing you think, but at least he wants me.

While joel prepares something to eat he fights with his demons at the same time. Even though, he is willing to give it a shot, the guilt is nestled on his chest does not give him a break. If you were not in a vulnerable position, if you were not in the hands of some sick men earlier he would already send you back to your home. But right now, he can’t. He does not want you to be alone. He is scared. What am I doing? I’m an old bastard whose good days are over, am I taking advantage of her? he thinks. But right now, he can’t. The best he could do was finding a lame ass excuse to not to fuck you right there in the bedroom, he was not aware that it unlocked different emotions in your body. The moment he realized you liked it he decided to try. For your sake or maybe his. He is not in love with you, he is not even sure he feels something romantic towards you. But he wants to protect you. He does not know, every time he does something for you; your feelings get deeper and deeper. He does not know it is not just a physical attraction you feel or it is not appealing to be with him because he is a forbidden fruit. You are amidst of a sea of emotions which is about to swallow you whole, he is on the shore. You both don’t know if he will join you or leave you there to drown. Joel Miller does not deserve to be loved and cared for in his own eyes, that’s why he can’t wrap his head around the fact that someone cares for him without having an expectation.

When he comes back with two plates in his hand and sits right beside you, you feel like an actual couple. The one that two people shares everything from kisses to their foods, you let your delusions fool you. You pat the spot right next to you and he obliges. He hands you your plate “It’s the best I could do.” He smiles apologetically. But in your eyes, this is better than any high-quality restaurant meal. It shows he cares for you. Although you want to tell him that you can’t be sure if it’d cause an awkward silence or not so you decide to unease the mood. “I can tell you’re not a five star cook.” Your tone makes it clear that you are not serious. “Don’t expect too much from an old man.” He chuckles, his dimple deepens. You let your intrusive thoughts win and dip your index finger in his dimple. “What the hell!” he exclaims. “sorry.” You grin widely, he chuckles. “not in my 56 years of life time someone fingered my dimple.” You laugh at his words. “well, every day above the ground we experience something new, am I right?” he nods, a ghost of a smile shadows his lips. The moment feels so domestic. You stole a couple of glances to study his face. You want to stroke his hair, caress his cheeks. A part of you is able to see the man behind the façade for a split second. A man, who needs affection as much as you do. He is not a bad man, you are sure of it. He does what he does because of the pain that hardens his heart. Losing someone is not an easy thing that you can get over so easily.

The watch on his wrist always got your attention, you wondered why he never takes it off. It does not work it is obvious. The glass of it is broken. “Why you always wear that watch?” you ask between your bites but you instantly regret it when you realize the sadness that creeps up on his face. You want to assure him, you want to say sorry I think I have crossed a line you don’t have to answer but you don’t do any of it. You probably messed up, your already weird relationship will go weirder. You feel so small, you want to blend in with the couch that you sit. “It reminds me of my daughter.” You can’t say anything back. You thought he would brush it aside but he answered. “the bullet that crack the watch also took her from me. I could not save her. I never wanted to live in a world that she wasn’t in it. I was a bad dad and I am ashamed of it, I could not save my baby girl. It took less then ten minutes for her to die. I watched it every second of it. I don’t deserve to live peacefully after leaving her to death. The watch makes sure that I remember every second. Time stopped when I lost her, no need to use a watch that works because I’m still in that moment, never moved on.” His honest explanation hurts you more than you could ever imagine. You feel disgusting for trying to hurt him with bring her daughter into your stupid fight weeks ago. You want to apologize; you want to hug him and tell him that everything is gonna be alright but you know that’s some bullshit. Your gaze intertwines and he catches the apology in your eyes. “You don’t have to say anything, silence is the best answer sometimes. Also, I hate hearing she would want you to be happy bullshit.” You nod in return because honestly even if he expected you to say something, you could not. You both finish the rest of your plates in silence. He grabs your plates and takes them to the sink in the kitchen you can hear the water running. You sneak out to kitchen and wrap your arms around him behind, pressing your face to his back. “Am I being a good girl?” you mutter. A smile forms on his lips “It’s early to decide.” Your body moves with him when he washes the plates and dries them since you hold him tightly. You can’t help but feel warm and fuzzy, it’s almost intoxicating. The way your bodies pressed into each other, your arms around him… “you are a one needy thing.” He mutters. You don’t fight back. You walk back to the couch and sit down again. “Joel?” “hm?” “do you have any books?” “I got a couple of but you would not be interested.” “you don’t know about that.” he sends you an amused look and walks towards his room then returns with two books in his hands. They are about construction, so yeah you would not be interested but still you don’t want to admit it. “Oh, I love construction!!!” You cheer with a fake enthusiasm which sounds faker than you expect. “Really now?” he raises his brows and sits right next to you. “Of course!” you try to stop yourself from laughing but when he laughs you fail to do so. You grab the book from his hands and start reading out loud. “You know, it is pretty interesting.” “Stop with the bullshit.” He chuckles. You continue reading and he listens every word intently as if you are revealing the secret of immortality.

The book is pretty boring to say the least, it does not interest you at all. When he lays his head on your lap though, your words choke on your throat and it feels worth every sentence you have read. Different emotions flood through your body. You can hear your heart beats in your chest. You quickly get yourself together and continue reading and he listens, swallows every word pouring from your lips. After gathering your courage one of your hands find her way in his hair, stroking softly. For a moment, you both let yourselves to forget the talk you eventually have to do. You didn’t resolve anything. You didn’t apologize or come to terms with your actions. You simply ignored everything because of your hostage situation. You feel his soft, greying hair; he feels your fingers rubbing his head. Your voice feels velvety to him. He wants to resist. This feels like a violation of a territory that should be handled carefully. But he feels so peaceful that he does not care. You put the book aside and watch his face. You gather all your courage and clear throat before talking. “You broke my heart Joel and I know I also crossed a line. But your words were harsher than mine. Yet I can’t stop from feeling something towards you. All it takes for a smile to grace my lips is just a couple of nice words from you. Your presence alone is enough to make me want to keep going. I don’t expect you to love me, but don’t push me away. Please.” He is baffled by your words. He wants to say no, he wants to say you’re young and he is an old rascal but he can’t because your words stroke his ego. He simply nods. Silence fills the room one more time before he decides to speak. “I can’t promise you anything, but I’m in no position to decide for you. You are free to do whatever you like. But I can’t love you. Don’t expect some emotional response from me.” though his words shatter your heart at least he lets you in, this is an invitation that you can’t decline. “I won’t.” your hand makes its way to his face and caress his cheeks. In your eyes, he is just a broken man who deserves to be loved beneath his grumpy surface.

After reading almost an hour you get bored. “Am I being a good girl?” you ask again, your body wants him. You want him. he then sits up and faces you instead of laying on your lap. “What do you think?” “I think I was being a good girl.” “hmm?” he looks at you, his eyes twinkle with amusement. You know he desires you as much as you do, on a physical level at least. Your hands slide on his crouch, slowly stroking him through his jeans. You burrow your face on his neck. “Joel, let me take care of you.” you whisper. You lick his neck softly while your fingers continue stroking him. With a sudden motion he pulls you on his lap and kisses you deeply. You suck his tongue and he responds you with a low whimper. You are throbbing on his lap wetness spreading on your underwear. When he bites your lower lip you giggle. He wraps his arms around you and picks you up to his bed. You sit at the edge of the bed on your knees and he stands before you. Even if he does not say anything out loud you know what he wants, to be fair you are dying to give him a head. Not without teasing him though. You nuzzle against his hard cock through his jeans, move your face up and down, he growls grabbing your hair from the back of your head and presses you more. This time he is at your mercy. You unbuckle his belt and pull down his jeans but don’t touch his underwear. Thin material allows you to realize that he is as excited as you if not more. When you kiss the tip of his cock he gasps. Though you want to swallow him whole seeing him whimpering and whining is much more enjoyable. When you finally pull down his underwear his thick cock waters your mouth. It’s all ready and sensitive waiting for you to take care of. You take the tip in your mouth while tilting your head up to see Joel’s features. He bites her lips, eyes glistening with expectation. Your deliberately slow movements drive him crazy. The tip in your mouth, you just watch him. Eyes shut tightly, brows furrowed, biting his lips. When he moves your head with his hand you slightly bite his tip. Unexpected pain mixed with pleasure leads him to moan loudly. It feels like the greatest song ever created. Once you take if off of your mouth he whines. You spit on your palm. One of your hands moves up and down on his length while you leave sloppy kisses on the tip. He can barely stand up, he feels weak on the knees. When you finally take half of his cock in your mouth your hot breath overwhelms him. Your lips wrap his cock, you can feel him pulsing inside your mouth, just like you imagined. He guides your head up and down. When you take it all your eyes tear up you can feel it at the back of your throat. It’s too much, you want to gag but then you get use to the feeling. “Such a pretty girl, taking me with her mouth so well.” He coos. You make a muffled noise as a response to his praise. While he guides you through his cock, your hand grabs his balls. You squeeze slightly. You feel his hips stutter. When he fills your mouth with his salty cum you swallow it whole. He watches you in awe. His thumb wipes out your chin with his thumb and he pushes his thumb inside your mouth you suck his thumb. Though he feels slightly embarrassed for coming so easily he feels so satisfied.

You throw yourself to bed on your back, panting. He climbs on top of you. He realizes your questioning gaze “It’s my turn to take care of you.” “you’ve been such a good girl, took me so well sweetheart.” He strokes your cheek. He presses his knee to your clit, the fraction of clothes sends shivers on your back. You nod eagerly while dripping on your underwear. He moves his knee up and down while watching your every movement like you did to him earlier. He leans on you and kisses your neck sloppily. While rubbing his knee on your cunt. He takes off your shirt and bra, exposes your hardened nipples. Leaning on your breasts he burrows his face between them. His breath tickles you. The moment he licks a stripe on your tit you whimper. “needy.” He chuckles. You are not sure but you feel like his voice gets huskier when he fucks. He peppers your whole torso with kisses and makes his way down to your pussy. He kisses you through your jeans like you did to him while his knee still pressed to your clit. Then he takes of your jeans and panties. When his knee loses the contact with your pussy you whine but the moment you are fully naked, he presses his knee back again. Now you can feel his jeans fully. He leans on to kiss you while grabbing your tit and toying with it softly with his thumb and index finger. You can feel him everywhere. You moan into his mouth. His hands roam around your body, touches everywhere while his lips on yours. You break the kiss “Joel… please.” He chuckles. You can see his hardening cock. He continues moving his knee up and down on your pussy pressing is ever so slightly. You feel you’re close and he didn’t even finger you. “Joel, I’m close.” With your warning he stops moving his knee. You whine in return but when you feel his mouth sucking your clit you don’t even care. He warm mouth is all over your cunt. He pushes his tongue inside you and plays with your clit. When you come inside his mouth, he also swallows you whole. After you finished, he lays right next to you and takes you in his arms resting your head on his chest. You both pant heavily. “we’re not done yet.” he kisses your forehead you both chuckle.

“We gotta clean up.” “I thought we were not done yet.” “I’m an old man give me a break.” You both laugh. He rolls up from the bed and goes to bathroom, preparing the bathtub for both of you, making sure the water is not too hot or too cold. Then he picks you up and carries you to the bathtub. He gets in the tub and pulls you in his lap. You press your back on his chest, feeling his chest heaves with each breath. He takes the shampoo from the side and washes your hair. His touch is so soft compared to ten minutes ago. His fingers moving on your scalp so tenderly. It is ridiculous. For a man who claims there is nothing emotional on his side his actions are so affectionate. He may not be loving you, but you can live with this. Feeling his warmth right next to you is enough. For now. “Joel?” “hm?” “what are we now?” “I was wondering when you will ask this. I don’t know sweetheart. And as I said earlier, I can’t promise you anything.” “I’ll make you fall for me.” “will ya now?” he chuckles. “yes.” “I wouldn’t be so sure.” You are certain though. He is going to fall for you. Maybe not now but eventually. He knows it too.

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tags: @eliza-8 @orcasoul @joeldjarin

#joel miller #pedro pascal #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #tlou hbo #joel miller hbo #joel miller x you #the last of us hbo #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #smut

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