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rkivepetals · 14 days

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If there’s one thing Jungkook knows about his new neighbour, is that she’s a bitch.

Pairing; guitarist!Jungkook x lawyer!femreader

Neighbour au, enemies to lovers, fake girlfriend, idiots in love.

Pure pure romance and fluff. And obviously, comical.

You hated him, hated him the second he came your way while you were running to court, and you hated him even more when he played his Goodman guitar in the middle of the night, and you hated him 10x when he ruined your weekend, or when he begged to you to act like his girlfriend for his grandma. You thought it started with drawing middle fingers for each other on your windows, but you’re not sure if it’ll end that way.

Word count of part one: 8k

She’s finally out of dungeon polished and shiny 😘

Main master list

It started slow, peaceful, full of compassion. Your sleep was full of contentment. It was barely ten in the morning, your drool hanging and almost dripping down at your notepad in your lap. Eyes close, one leg over the sofa handles, one sprawled out, pens falling, about five books laid open. You slept as if you hadn't your whole life.

You knew your back would pain like gods-forsaken hell in the morning, and you knew you had to be awake the whole night to complete your work, but you also knew you were writing down scribbles instead of words, and you had to take a nap. It's been three days, you needed sleep. The concealer is doing a terrible job at hiding those dark circles and you almost every time fall asleep in court.

So when I say it was content—your sleep, even in the position of a dead frog, you found comfort, as long as you were breathing with eyes closed you were fine. But of course, much-awaited worse things waited for you with your heavy cell phone and the constant vibrations of your alarm and then it blew up, with a loud ring that pierced the back of your mind. Your eyes shot open as if a supernatural creature.

You quickly flap your hands and find it, your phone. Quickly picking up, your boss screams at you. "Y/n!" You tightly shut your eyes, "y-yes?" Suppressing a yawn she yelled, "Where are you?! We have a hearing in fifteen minutes! Where are the papers!?" Your eyes widened, checking the ticking clock over your head.

You slept through your work time. "I'm—I'm coming! I'm just there!" You ran to your bathroom, thankfully you at least have one good habit of picking out your outfit for the next day, splashing water on your face as you breathed heavily and changed like a maniac, your back was digging holes in your skull, and you took your bag, shoved the file in it and ran out. A man was standing there, proceeding to smile but you shoved him away and ran down, loud trucks growling. "Move!"

Heels clicking loudly against the footpath as you sit in a taxi, "the court." The driver looks at you, Baffled. "But I don't—" "Hurry up!" You say and shove a mint pill in your mouth, all while patting the foundation on your cheeks. You grunt when the mascara gets on your cheek, wiping it furiously as you rub the lipstick on your dry lips and spot a water bottle against the seat. "That's—uh.."

The driver watched you gulp it down in one go and removed the smudged lipstick. "Yes, right there." You say and shove the cash down his shoulder and walk out, opening the hairpin and clipping it against the bag straps, you walk towards your boss and greet, "Morning!" You say and take out the file, she sighed.

"Is there a day where you don't fuck up your time management, y/n?" You smile awkwardly, "I slept a little too much." She shook her head as you followed her inside the court.

Jung Kook was sure of one thing, his new neighbour is a bitch. He stood there, shoved right to the side as he watched you run like a hawk through the streets. He slightly glares, all he wanted was to say hi. He swears, he tried to smile at you but you didn't even listen to him. "Hah. I give this one, she might be late to work."

He says, a deep wound on his male ego. He clicked his tongue and exhaled, "Maybe she didn't know someone was moving in." He tries to justify, walking towards his house. It wasn't far, just two steps. You and Jungkook even share a window to your bedrooms, he looks over at his furniture. "Hey, man! We need you here!"

You sighed, head paining, spine throbbing, you uncomfortably moved as you gulped down the office breakfast. "So you were late again?" You hummed, brows furrowed, enjoying your first meal of the day at two in the afternoon. "Did it go well?" You hum again, not bothering to reply to your friend. She sighs, "Y/n you know if you keep doing this you're not near a promotion any time soon?"

You swat your hand annoyingly, "Yeah! I know! Stop shoving it in my face! You have no idea what it takes to be an assistant under her!" She shushed you, "Be careful. The director strolls around here in the afternoon." You rolled your eyes and shoved the pipe in the hole of your drink, sipping it as you pressed your back against the chair, hoping it'd soothe the pain a little.

"But honestly, you've worked pretty hard, you deserve the promotion." Your friend, jiyoon pout in pity at you. "I know, maybe she has a bit of an ego problem." Jiyoon sneered, "Maybe she thinks you'd be better than her?" You shrugged, "who knows." You sigh at the ticking clock, "Four more hours until I go home."

You yawned, walking down the familiar streets as you rubbed your arms. "I need new work clothes." You murmured, pouting. Noticing the lights on in the house beside you, "Someone moved in?" You say and hurried your steps, heels clicking as you bend over and look over at the outside. "Seems like a guy."

You scrunched your nose in disappointment, "hey." You gasp and move back in surprise, a good-looking, tall, man smiles at you. You flutter your lashes, "I'm Jung Kook, I moved in." You looked over at the house and then at him, nodding your head. "Nice." You say, moving to the side and walking toward your door, Jungkook loudly clears his throat. Turned his head and looked over at you, who jiggled the keys to open the door.

He followed you, you squint your eyes, "what?" He bites his lip in anticipation, "I heard you're a lawyer." You sighed and turned to him, "Yes, and? Do you have a case to file?" He shook his head, "No no, I was just wondering if I could borrow some sugar. I recently moved in, I need it in my coffee." You hummed and entered, "wait here."

He abruptly took his steps back from your entrance as he waited for you to come and lend him sugar. He noticed the dirty living room full of books and spilt coffee, the couch covered in different clothes of you, and shoes sprawled out. Maybe that's why you didn't invite him over, "here." You give him the small container of sugar as he looks down then at your face.

He held it, and suddenly the next thing you knew was sugar all over your entrance. You gasped as Jungkook stood stunned. His hold slipped on the plastic container, "well..." he chuckled nervously, and you clenched your fist and grit your teeth in anger. "I think we're done. You shall leave now." You say and close the door on his face.

The air through the shut cut through his throat when I tell you. He sighed, shoes covered in sugar as he cursed under his breath, both himself and you as he walked back. "Why I'd have to go to her out of all?!"

You plop on your bed, scowling at the ceilings. Yawning and eyes closing, throwing your hairpin somewhere as you closed your eyes, tired to the very edge. But god good, someone has to play an electric guitar. Your eyes wide open, "was it in my head?" You'd murmured before you shifted your body and clutched your pillow.

The involuntary high guitar notes echoed again, almost like comical music. You got up this time, looking around your empty, messy bedroom. You sighed, laying back down, it played again, and this time it continued. You screamed in frustration. "Who is this?!— ah." You chuckled, "fuck."

You scoot closer to your window, peeking from it. Your neighbour stood shirtless, eating a "pumpkin pie in summer?!" You frowned, a big black guitar in his hands. His fingers worked on it, you hurriedly check your phone. It was almost three a.m., and you clenched the sheets, burying your head in the pillow as you screamed in frustration. It got worse, he eventually started playing louder.

"Fuck fuck fuck him!" You coiled, trying your hardest to at least take a nap. It never happened, but one good thing about an all-nighter is that you can at least go to work early. You yawned, stumbling on thin air due to your body not taking a rest the whole night. "This is worse than babysitting a child."

You murmured, taking out your peach heels and wearing them, pushing past the front door and locking it. You were immediately showered with water on your face. You moved back, hysterical. Breathing heavily as you looked down at your peachy orangish suit all wet You had pressed the last night.

You gasp, "Mom, see I'm watering my front yard." You grit your teeth, "Let me guess, it's him." You murmured and looked up. Your neighbour smiling sweetly at his mom through FaceTime, and you grunt and stomp your feet. "Oh? Jungkook who is behind you?" He glanced behind him but turned his back again, "Ah, my neighbour. I've to hang up now. Bye!"

You flipped back your hair, walking cockily to him. "Mama's sweet boy, I see!" You said, sarcasm clearly as he looked up and down at you. "Good morning I guess." You fumed, "There is no good morning!" You screamed as he dropped his water spray and looked at you, "Stop screaming on my property!" "Your property?!"

You jumped in the wet sand, "fuck your property! Do you even know how much this suit costs me?!" "I said stop yelling!" "But you are also yelling at a woman!" You both glared at each other, and your neighbour from the other side came over, Mrs. Kim is what you call her. "Oh! Y/n and jungkook? Why are you both fighting?!"

She rushed, "he sprayed water on my Armani suit!" He gasped, "I didn't do that on purpose! It's not my fault that she's standing in the way of me and my plants, Mrs. Kim!" He yelled as you breathed heavily, throwing your bag and clutching his collar, "I was not standing in your way!" She gasped and got rid of you as Jung Kook dramatically checked himself.

"I am going to file a case against you! You-you!" He heftily cried, "I will get you arrested for assaulting a man in wide daylight." "Whatever! I am not scared of you and your lame tactics! Like a little man! I will see you in court!" You point your finger as you pick your bag from the ground and stomp out your way to work. "What is wrong with her?"

He tried to calm himself down, "She's a little stressed—" "She tried to kill me!"

On the same night, jungkook exits his small shower room. Drying his wet hair he sips his coffee on the side. Clearing his throat as he picked up his guitar, looking up and then squinting his eyes. A big wide poster was on your bedroom window. 'DO NOT PLAY THE GUITAR AT NIGHT OR I WILL THROW RAW EGGS AT YOU AND YOUR STUPID HOUSE. SINCERELY, Y/N.' He scoffed, pushing his guitar aside as he hurried a white paper and marker.

"I don't care!" He said and wrote it in the big wide font and stuck it to his window. Proceeding to play the guitar nonetheless.

The next morning, when jungkook woke up at about two p.m. in the peak afternoon, he stretched his, naked, sweaty, body. Groaning as he ruffled his hair then suddenly smelled something bad. He sniffed around like a pup, then opened his window and noticed the raw eggs at his once shiny window glass. He gasped and looked toward your window, a wobbly middle finger drawn.

He clenched his fist, "oh, you called for it." That afternoon, he didn't go out to find possible jobs that could earn him bucks to buy food and eat it. He took his time sketching a clean, almost realistic middle finger and sticking it to his window before he napped for two hours straight.

When you came, like a ghost, reeling through streets and immediately dropping your bag in the entryway and plopping on your one-sitter couch. Breaking in cries afterwards, "I can't find peace at work, not at home, not even the fucking bathroom!" You whined, throwing your legs as you watched the ceiling, the loud noise of utensils clashing coming from your left house. "What sin did I commit to have him as my neighbour!? God!"

You snuff and get up, stumbling on the stairs and crawling back up. A slicked, sketched, three-dimensional middle finger greeting you on your neighbour's window. You fumed and took pen and paper, aggressively doodling down another one and sticking up your window. Hopefully, he gets a bit of an idea of how much pain in the ass he is.

You drop on your bed, still in your Armani suit. The scenes from today's repeating in your mind. The fight with your neighbour, then getting yelled at by your boss, then dealing with a friend who's going through a breakup, then working overtime, then coming home to a middle finger shoved to your face. What a sacred godforsaken life.

It came, again, the loud echoes of his electric guitar. "I hope his guitar breaks!" You yelled, and he listened. So he went even more aggressively. You screamed in the air, like some possessed thing.

The cycle continued the whole week, not sleeping at night and taking naps on buses, huge dark circles, and droopy eyes all the time. A shit ton of caffeine running through the veins, it was hectic. But you were looking forward to the weekend. If he's a guitarist, he must be having shows at that time, and you can finally sleep the whole day and night, and you swear. I repeat you swear on your mom and dad that you will snap his neck in two if he fucks up your peaceful weekend.

It came, the weekend came. TGIF. you happily hopped on your way home, showing a middle finger to your neighbour who was vacuuming as he shoved one back at you. Not giving him a mind, you happily changed your black suit in your Hello Kitty pyjamas. Opening the big bowl of fried chicken you bought on your way home, you sit on the floor, with a comedy show playing on your laptop as you peacefully eat your chicken.

Exhaling and plopping on your bed, you watch your dirty ceilings. Jungkook has been quiet, thank god he is. You wonder how. Whatever at the end of the day, you closed your eyes and let sleep take over you.

What felt like the middle of the night, you coughed. Smelling something bad, as if gas leaking in your cylinder. You coughed loudly, trying to get up and run out, to check what was wrong. You swat your hand across and walk down the stairs, stumbling inside the kitchen as you hurriedly turn off the gas and run out of your house. Immediately falling off on what seemed like a grandma.

You breathe heavily, gulping and taking her up because she fell on the ground. "Are you okay?" You asked her as she nodded, groaning in pain. "Why are you here so late at night?!" You ask her, "I..." She coughed as you patted her back. "My gas was leaking, that's why I'm out here. You shouldn't be, it's not safe around." You say as she keeps coughing.

"Grandma!" Surprisingly, your neighbour ran toward her as she smiled at him. "So she is your girlfriend?" You couldn't hear them, you were stressed, peeking inside your house as Jungkook looked at you. Then back at his grandma, a horrendous idea clicking his cells. He smiles, "Yes." She smiled at her grandson. "She is pretty."

You peeked, "Ah!" Wiggling your body and grunting. Jungkook bites his lower lip, "what happened?" He asked, you glanced back at him and his grandma. "Why do you care?" You say and clear your throat, stepping inside your own house and locking the door. You quickly opened all the Windows and walked up to your bedroom, taking your phone and turning on the lights. Calling the fire department.

Jungkook's grandma raised her eyebrows at him, the crickets echoing in the back. he chuckled awkwardly. "We...we fought." She looked at him, judged. "What?" He asked, taking her back to his own house on rent. "Are you sure she is your girlfriend? Or are you lying to me?" He shook his head, "No! I told you, we fought! I'll—I'll make up to her. Let me put you to sleep first. And that is my house, not this one." He lied, as she sighed and shook her head.

"Check correctly! I didn't even turn on the gas last night. This shouldn't be happening!" You say as the firefighters look closely in your small kitchen, you sigh and look to the front, a frown of stress moulting into confusion. "Him? What if he did them so he could take revenge on me?" You murmured and walked toward your front door.

"What are you doing here?" Jungkook nervously scratched his neck. It was four a.m., and you were both hungry and sleep-deprived, "what?!" You yelled as he cleared his throat and tried smiling at you. "Uh...what happened?" You sigh, "My gas leaked. Something is wrong probably. But what was your grandma doing here?!" You squint and fold your hands, walking closer.

He sighed, "I just realised we never had a formal conversation about each other." You looked at his face, trying to rationalise what does he want. "So?" He chuckled, "Funny....uh..." You were getting pissed, "What do you want?!" He exhales, "I want you to pretend as If you're my girlfriend! Please!" He begged on his knees as you hysterically moved back and fell on your hips.

Screeching in pain Jungkook crawled toward you, "Are you okay!?" You held his shoulders and got up with his support. "Ah! My hip bones are crushed because of you! You are so... ugh! Bad luck!" You scream in frustration. Breathing heavily, at four in the morning, staring at his stupid fucking face. "You said what?"

He nervously chuckled, "That can you pretend to be my....partner." You blinked, "for what?" He exhaled, "My grandma owns real estate in London, and she has seven grandsons. She wants to give her property only to me but..." you frowned, folding your hands and walking toward him, "but you need to have a partner?" He smiles and nods, "Exactly!"

You scoffed, "I think you forgot that I'm a lawyer. You can't fool me. And I'm not pretending to be your partner." You said and turned your back towards him, walking inside. "But it's the truth! Why would I want to be with you? It's not nonsense!" You rolled your eyes, about to close your door. "I can pay you a hundred dollars every day!"

You stop. Hands-on the knob, mouth slightly open. "Hundred dollars....?" You whispered and peeked at his panicked state of form. "What did you say?" "Hundred dollars for a day." You raised your brows, "huh?!" "Ugh! Okay, fine two hundred!" You smirk. "I didn't hear you!"

You lie as he sighs, walking and opening the door wide. "Three hundred and fifty dollars every day. Not one cent more." You smiled, thinking about it. "Hold on!" He frowned as you happily hop inside, eyeing the firefighters do something in your kitchen as he waits. You come back, hopping like a bunny with a wide smile.

"Four hundred and fifty dollars every day, and you will take the responsibility for my food, well-being and bills." He scoffs, "No thanks. I'll find somebody else." He says and takes his cue, you frown. Running after him, "Wait wait!" You held his bicep and came in front of his body, "Okay, three fifty, no bills. Just food." He didn't ease up as you sighed, "I am a lawyer, I'll be risking millions for this."

He still didn't ease up, "come on! Do you even know the price out there?!" He frowned, "what'd you mean I know the price!?" You slightly Cough, "I mean, no one would do it for you. You should be grateful that I'm even hearing you out." Jungkook sighed, looking at your cunning face, frowning in disbelief that he was even doing something like this. He thought for a moment, was it really going to be worth it? But he for sure knows his grandma would love you, especially when you're a lawyer. "Fine!"

You smiled, "nice! Now, I'm going to sleep. I'll...see you tomorrow." You say and leap inside, "What's your full name?" He asked as you peeked from your door, "Kim y/n!" You winked as Jungkook cringed before he jogged to his own little damn house.

When Jungkook yawned and opened his eyes, he immediately smelled delicious Korean food. "Ah, y/n must be a good cook." He stretched his body and hurriedly walked down, a dreamy smile on his lips as he inhaled the delicious smell, "your girlfriend even come here or not? Look at this dirty sink, do you even know the word 'clean' Jungkook?" His grandma scolds, and he grimaces and blinks rapidly.

"What time is it?"

"Two p.m!"

"Ah!"

"Also." She came forward with her spatula, "What is that on your and her windows?!"

His eyes enlarged, "what?!"

"I need you to explain that! How the hell do you both function watching middle fingers on your windows!?" She shouted

Jungkook nervously chuckled, "Uh..that's..that's a Gen Z thing, grandma. Everyone in relationships does that."

"Draw middle fingers?!"

Jungkook nervously choked out a giggle, "Y-yeah. Sort of."

She sighed and shook her head, "Call y/n over, it's Sunday. I wanna know if she is even good enough for you."

Jungkook scratched his head, already knowing the answer as he wore his in-house slippers and walked to your side of the street.

He yawns, constantly ringing the bell. The harsh sun piercing his eyes, you finally opened, with a wide yawn as he scowled down at you and your jello kitty night suit. "What?!" You yelled, "Come over! And remove those posters from the windows! And brush your teeth!" He said, walking away. "You brush your teeth! Ugly!"

You move back your hair, ringing his bell. This is the first time you're going to see his house from the inside. Hoping to not get dengue or something. His grandma opened instead as you immediately smiled at her, "Good morning, grandma." She sighs and lets you in, "come. Jungkook is having brunch." You lick your lips and clear your throat.

"Oh! Baby!" He lurched onto you, you nudged him aside. "Stay away!" You scowled. His Grandma looked between you both as you nervously chuckled, "Oh I mean, yeah! Good morning!" You still push him out of your way and sit on the small dining table but he side. "That's her way of showing love."

Jungkook tries to conceal as the grandma frowns suspiciously at you both. Sighing afterwards, "Anyway, y/n. Do you come here often?" "No." "Yes." You looked at Jungkook, this close to taking his stupid head and banging it against the table but you smiled. "Sometimes."

She hums, "Jungkook told me he moved here after you. Why don't you both live together then?" You cleared your throat, "I don't get the time for this. I mean, I am an assistant lawyer. My whole house is just law books and garbage. there's no point of living together." She chuckled and served you some soup.

"That's right. Where do you work?" You dip your spoon in the soup, "peach law firm." She sighed as she watched you eat. "Oh. Nice. Do they pay you well?" You hummed, "they do." She glanced at you both, suspicious even. Sighing, she said. "I'll be taking a bath, you must come here often so I don't need to tell you anything." Jungkook nods his head, "she does!"

You smiled at her until she was out of your sight then glared at Jungkook. "What?" He asked, mouth full. You cleared your throat, "what do you do? Besides annoyingly playing the guitar at four a.m.?" He hums, "That's what I do. I play the guitar." You frowned, "like? That's your job?" He nods, not looking at you, focused on his plate. You sneer, "Is that even a job?"

He frowned, "you think you're superior just because you did law?

"Yes." You continue to slurp, "Ah!" Exhaling afterwards.

He sighs, "I won't give you money for the days you will be working, you barely would do anything and snatch three fifty just like that..."

You shrug, "Fine, don't. I'll tell her the truth that you pay me."

He sneered, "What makes you think you'd be the only saint if you revealed it to my grandma? She'd get just as angry at you for taking money from me."

You hum, "I know." You looked at him, "But I am not her grandson, you are."

He sighs, putting his chopsticks down. "Are you threatening me?"

"Take it as whatever you want. Brrrr..." You leaned back on your seat. "Do you have something cold?"

You yawned, walking toward your home. You're tired after hearing his grandma blabber 24/7. "Why are you coming with me?" You asked, stumbling a little in heels. "Because I want her to think we are genuine." You laughed out loud, echoes from the sky coming back to you. "So how long is she staying with you?" You asked, breaking your knuckles. "I dunno, a week I guess.."

"Three hundred fifty dollars by seven is..." you frowned, trying to calculate.

"Two thousand four hundred fifty dollars," Jungkook said as you shrugged, giving up on the calculation. He sighs, "That's how much I'm going to pay you?"

You hum and nod, "Yes. And I will buy a car with that money."

He chuckled, a little endearing. Born on a silver spoon, Jungkook never had to worry about small things, it gave him the freedom to become a guitarist. His father gave him all the luxuries, from high-end clothes to sports cars. Hearing someone wanting to buy a car got him. "Since how long have you wished to buy one?" He asked.

"Hmm...since college. But my fees were so high, that I barely survived in that haunted building. Thankfully I got a job in the firm. and my parents got into an accident..." You fell silent for a moment, "they didn't survive. I didn't have enough money at the time so I had to sell off my dad's vintage car. Ever since then, it's been struggle after struggle...wait." You looked at his glossy eyes, "why am I telling you this?"

You scoffed as he slightly smiled, clearing his throat afterwards. You sighed and walked into your small entrance. "Bye." He said, you looked at him for a moment but didn't say anything. Locking your door instead.

On the other day, you didn't even see him and his grandma, you had major cases to take care of and arrange papers for, and you left earlier than usual after a while. Coming home at almost eleven in the night, you threw your stupid bag somewhere and plopped down on the couch. Spine in a coiling pain as you closed your eyes, you didn't even have the energy to get up and drink water, nor to have a meal.

Surprisingly, Jungkook knocked on your door. You didn't open, you didn't wish to, you were too tired to deal with him. He sighs, turning the knob and stepping in. As usual, a mess forsaken and you slept on your red couch. He looked down at the sandwiches, it felt very inappropriate to just walk into your house but if he came back home with his lunchbox filled, his grandma would take over. And he doesn't want that.

Clearing his throat, in case you wake up. You didn't, he rolled his eyes and sighed, placing the lunchbox on the kitchen counter, picking up your bag and placing it on the table. He stares at you, deep asleep, then at your bookshelf and the whole living room. Hands twitching to wake you up, he shook his head and rather ran away.

You'd uncomfortably stretch your torso, midst asleep as you'd notice the lights on. Still, In your work attire, you'd get up instead and sigh, trying to walk toward the switchboard, stomach grumbling in hunger and then you'd notice a magical lunchbox on your kitchen counter. Blinking again and again to check if you're dreaming or not.

A lunchbox stood there, you hurriedly open it, seeing cold sandwiches. You scoff, "There's no way..." You rub your eyes, sigh and take the triangular shape of bread filled with lettuce and cutlet and eat it, nodding your head in satisfaction.

Days passed quickly, and you barely saw them——both him and his grandma around. Days were getting busier too, you were sleepless, once again, and you were crushing your bone and muscle to get a promotion in the firm. Jungkook stopped playing guitar at night and he didn't shove a middle finger down at you whenever he saw you without his grandma. You wouldn't smile at him, nor would he.

It has been two weeks, two a.m in the night, you were counting on your budget for the month, with negative five dollars in your bank account. Groaning at the severely less amount of cash you had in your wallet. Payday was very far, you're running out of daily essentials like toothpaste, rice, and oil. Someone rang on your door, and you knew who it was going to be.

Putting the cash back in your wallet and slightly bending the screen of your laptop, you walked and opened the door to the all too familiar Jungkook. You waited for him to speak, "So...won't you let me in?" You glanced behind and cleared your throat, "it's very messy," he nodded, "I know." You sigh in embarrassment, letting him in your house in the middle of the night.

He cleared his throat, not knowing where to sit as you walked past him sitting on the floor against your square dining set tea table. He sat ahead of you, noticing laptops, notepads, and bills. "Why did you come this late at night?" You asked, "I know you are busy all day so I thought this was the right Moment." You nod, "Is your grandma still here?"

He shook his head, "No. She went away like, two three days ago." You sighed, "Did you find another girlfriend?" He chuckled, "No. She saw you working day and night and was very proud. There was no need to have another one." You blink, cheeks burning as you clear your throat. "So?"

He takes out the cheque. "Your payment which I promised." You blinked, looking at the amount written, 400$ with his sign on the end. You looked up at his face, "are you really..." you tried to find the right words. "I didn't do much though, you don't have to pay if you don't wish to." It took all your mighty morals to say because you knew you had holes in your pockets.

And he blinked, was it too much? He asked himself, fingers still on the cheque as you continuously chant in your head for a positive answer. He slipped the cheque his way, just a little as you glared at the 400 dollar sign, "Since you're being considerate, I'll take it." You pressed your fingers on it, taking it your way as he rapidly blinked.

You smiled at him, "thanks." He lowly chuckles, as if ironically. "It's—it's okay." He cleared his throat as you pressed down a relieved smile and placed the cheque in your wallet. He awkwardly looks at you, "Do you I mean, are you going to have a promotion soon?" You frowned, "I don't know. I hope I do."

He hums, "Did your grandma believe this? Are you going to have property directly?" He chuckled, "I'm not sure. Maybe, maybe not. who knows." You hummed, and right at that moment. With that godforsaken hum, a shiver ran up Jungkook's spine. He looks at you, slowly turning your gaze his way. He confusingly—slightly tilts his head.

A little part of his heartbeat echoed in his mind. And it came, right onto your faces, like some volatile garbage can breaking in half, from his mouth. "Do you have a boyfriend?" His fingers curled when he realised what he had just asked, 'EW EW EW' he yelled at himself in his mind. You slightly frowned, "No wait! Like—you know what I'll just—good night!"

He hysterically gets up from the floor, running away from you as you follow him, "where are you going?!" "Home!" He slipped in his slippers as you slightly trip onto your charger, in that moment he opened the door to exit. "Don't you wanna know the answer?!" He stops two steps away from your main door.

Blinking rapidly as his insides inverted. He curled his fingers, gulping as you walk toward him. Hand on the doorknob, you slightly lean, a teasing smile—almost like a smirk as he already made a pout to kiss. "No, I don't." You say and shut the door on his pouty face. You giggled evilly, enjoying the way he went bonkers.

Jungkook stood like that, stunned, frozen, like a statue, for five seconds straight. With that stupid fucking pout on his lips. Then he erupted like a volcano, not just only him—his embarrassment erupted in five different methods, vocally abusive, bonkers in the mind, crying, shocked, cringed. He swears, this was by far the most embarrassing moment of his life, out of all the time he's been rejected from music labels, this was quite an achievement.

And when he plops down on his bed, thinking in. "Why did I stop playing my guitar at four a.m. suddenly?!" 'Because you didn't want to disturb her.' His angel over the head replied, "But why would I not want to disturb her?! I hate her! Ew!" The angel smiles, 'because you care for her.'

His fingers coiled in cringe, stuffing his head in the pillow, "Why am I doing this?! Agh!" And what felt like two more hours of screaming, kicking legs, losing his entire state of mind and America. He finally gets in the position to sleep—physically. He breathes heavily, frowning, looking at his boring ceilings, as if deciding on which next island he's going to buy. "Maybe it was out of sympathy."

He frowned even further, soured. "BUT WHY WOULD I WANT TO KISS FOR SYMPATHY MY GOD." He yelled loudly as if trying to tell them demons as if convincing himself that he was not attracted to you. But it came right on the face every time he tried. It's like it was obvious all along—but he hates you.

Jung Kook sat ahead of his phone. Wondering if he should do it or not—maybe he should not. But that's the only person who could give him answers. He groaned, "How can a girl fuck up my mind so well?" He cried and regained his posture, clearing his throat as he pressed the call button. It rang, but no one picked up.

He sighs, plopping his head down on the same bed he's rotting on thinking about you nonstop. It rang after a few minutes as he picked up, a little drowsy, "Hello?" He says, "Yes? How are you jungkook?" His grandma asks sweetly as he exhales, "I'm fine now, are you taking your pills on time?" She hums, "I am. How is y/n?"

He squints, clenching the sheets as he clears his throat. "She's fine." She hums. "Grandma, I have this friend. Who is like fucking crazy? He...kinda likes his neighbour. But he can't figure out why, because he hates her." She giggled, "How can he hate and like her at the same time?" He sighs, "I...don't know. Maybe she's a little too pretty? Maybe? I dunno, I swear. And...yeah."

Grandma giggled again, "Why are you asking me this, Jung Kook?" He exhaled once more, laying on his back. "Because when he saw her last night, he asked her if she has a boyfriend, like really abruptly. He didn't even know what he was blabbering. And she said she doesn't. What should he do now?" Grandma hums, "It's you and y/n isn't it?"

Jungkook's world collapses yet again. He wished he hadn't called her at all. "No! Me and her are in a relationship! We're going on a date...yeah." She giggles softly, "Kook, I knew you and y/n weren't together the moment I saw you both together." Jungkook clenched his hair and buried his head in the mattress, hoping it would swallow him whole.

"Then why didn't you say anything?" He murmured, "Because it was fun. Seeing you try so hard to be with a girl." "Grandma!" She giggled, "Even though I knew you both weren't yet together, I didn't see it too far. That's why I played along." Jungkook sighs, watching his ceilings yet again. "What do I do now?"

She chuckled, "ask her out!"

"Really?"

"Yes."

"What if she rejects me?"

"She won't. If she wanted to, she would've thrown you out last night. Did she?"

He clicked his tongue, "she didn't."

A small smile grew on his lips, remembering your face when you said you didn't have a boyfriend. "Then she won't reject. And if she does, court her." "Pffft.." he exhales, "but I hate her." His grandma laughed at him. "Then stop hating her? If you hated her you wouldn't have been in this situation now." He sighs, "Once you stop hating her, you'll automatically love her."

He kinda blushed not gonna lie. Cleared his throat, "I'll see." She hums, greeting him bye and ending the call. He laid down face again, "how to even ask her out? What does she even like? Does she even like me? Agh!"

You smiled at your colleague, walking out of the law firm and taking the bus. You sit by the window, clutching your bag in your hands as you think about last night. Chuckling to yourself at how easily he gave up, "Stupid." You murmured, tugging a strand of hair behind your ear. Finding him adorable of how easily he fucks up.

You got up, pressed the red button, exited the bus and walked towards your society. You halt for a second, feeling a presence behind you. Cleared your throat and continued to walk again. Shivers ran down your body as you spot jungkook outside his entryway. He stood straight, suppressing a yawn as he looked at you.

You glanced behind one more time, feeling a bit scared but gulped anyway seeing jungkook ahead. "Hey.." you looked at him, "Hi." He cleared his throat, "Grrr...uh...so..." you waited for him, "do you wanna watch something together? Like totally not forcing you but like y'know? Cool stuff. Maybe a Netflix show?" You softly sneer, "Why?"

Now that's when. "Because...because grandma told me that, once you stop hating someone You start loving them." You chuckled, and his heart reached a new high. What the fuck was happening, all this in just one single day was mad crazy for him. "Fine. I'll think about it." You say and continue to walk your way.

He gasped, coming frontier. "I'm asking you out so nicely and you're saying you'll think about it?!" His small eyes enlarged at your face. "A girl needs some time, jeon." He sighs, and you walk closer to your own house. "Well if you're truly going to reject me then say it to my face I—" he stood stunned, stunned when you tiptoed, held his jaw and softly touched your lips on his cheek.

A little numb in the brain as he stood frozen, you giggled and walked your way, opening the door and watching him stumble against your postbox and hit his head on the brick wall. "Shit, fuck!" He screams, cheeks burning, and you giggle. "Not today! I've so much work! Tomorrow maybe!" You yell as he looks at you, a little teary with pain as he nods his head, "Okay?" You ask, "Okay!"

You lightly push back your hair, a little nervous. Fidgeting your fingers as you wait for your boss' client to exit so you can enter inside. A woman in her mid-40s with a dark red dress exits as you finally get up, clearing your throat. Hoping you're not getting fired as you Knocked twice and entered. Your boss signed something and you almost ran back.

Nonetheless, she told you to sit. "How are you?" She asks, you slightly smile. "Good, I guess." She nonchalantly chuckles, pushing an envelope your way. "You're promoted to our Lead attorney. No more running errands for lawyers." Your eyes winded, you looked at the envelope and opened it, your promotion paper signed by her and the board of directors. "Really?!"

Your eyes almost teared, "Yes, more bonus days, more money and a personal office." You pressed your lips together, finally seeing your years of hard work paying off. You got up, bowing several times, "Thank you so much for this! I'll try my best every time I step in court in the name of our law firm! You won't be disappointed!" She chuckled, "I know! That's why I choose you! Now go and enjoy! You also get a leave for today! Have fun!"

You nod your head, "I will! Thanks so much, again!" Your fingers clutch the paper envelope as you exit, jumping in excitement, "Oh my god!" You first sat down in the hallways and rubbed your palms, trying to calm down. "I need to tell it to somebody!" You immediately scroll through your contacts, Jungkook at the very end. Right above your dad and mom.

You breathed heavily, thumb over your dad's number, tears filling your eyes. You sigh, calling Jungkook instead. Picking your bag up you started to walk down the empty hallways, heels echoing, phone over your ear as it rang a few times. He picks up nonetheless, "Hey..." he groggily let out, and you chuckled. "Still sleeping?"

He hums, your belly twists as you clear your throat. "What is it? Do you need more money?" You rolled your eyes, "I got promoted. Thought if you'd like to have a dinner treat tonight." He goes silent for a moment, shuddering noises. "You got what?!" His voice is a bit more clear now, "Promoted! I will fight cases in court now!" "Woah!"

You smile, "really?!" You nod, as if he could see you. "Yes." "I deserve a treat!" You softly laugh, "Okay. Yesterday I had work. Tonight?" He hums, "Okay." He cleared his throat, as if a bit awkward. "At my place?" You both say, standing silent for a second, "No, mine. Since it's my treat." You offered as he sighed, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am. Obviously." He cleared his throat, "Oh. Okay. I'll come, you better have some great feasts." You chuckled, "I will. I guarantee."

You kindly push back your hair in a bun and place a claw clip over it. Take a few strands out to frame your face. Patting a bit of power on your oily forehead and nose, applying a thin layer of lip gloss and spraying mist. You clear your throat and check if you look casual and put together, "should I just..." You open your wardrobe and check a shirt over your comfy pyjamas.

"No no..." you dig through, "the striped one!" You say and check it one more time and then it hits you in the head like some asteroid from space. "Why am I suddenly caring about how am I perceived by him?" You say to yourself in the mirror, still holding the shirt. "No wait, genuinely. How the hell did we end up like this? Like I fucking kissed him last night?! Ew!"

You talk in the mirror, "Maybe because he looked cute...? No but he looks cute all the time—" you stop. Pressing your lips against each other. "So." You cleared your throat. Peeking from the curtains to look at his closed windows, "he stopped playing guitar, he asked me out on a date, he made me work as his girlfriend in front of his grandma, and gave me money." You sighed, "Is he in love with me?"

Jungkook bites his lower lip, stomach stirring once again as he gently presses the bell over your door. It was so filled with hesitation that the bell didn't even ring. He sighed, pressing harshly as it dinged. Then again, and again. Nobody opened it, he felt like an idiot. Pressing your doorbell again and again only for you to not open the door.

He scoffed, heart shattering. "She played this game to embarrass me?" He clenched his fists, trying to not blow it up on your door. It's been thirty minutes since he's knocking, he sighed. Inhaling and turning his feet back, gulping the anger in. Harshly opening his door and throwing his jacket away, sprinting in anger toward his bedroom to sleep. As soon as he dropped his body on the mattress, he clenched his jaw.

"How dare she?" He gulped, pressing his eyelids shut. Tears formed, he hasn't expected you to be this bitchy, he fumed. Trying to clear his mind off of you. A faint noise of something hitting the glass window echoes in the back of his mind, he ignores it. Turning his body away from his stupid fucking window.

Then it shattered, the window shattered. He slightly frowned, getting up from his bed and opening the curtains. Your window was shattered as he frowned, lips slowly parting. He opens his windows, and your yelps echo. His heart dropped in his stomach as he ran downstairs to your door. Banging it this time, "Y/n open the door!"

He yells to no avail, finally using his strength to push through the wooden door. He grunts, and the door still stands intact. He bangs it again and again, the skin of his palm scratched against the sharp part of your doorframe, bleeding instantly. "Y/n!" He yelled, pushing his shoulder one more time as it jiggled and he harshly pulled away The door. Sprinting towards your bedroom he pushed the door once again to see the terrorising sight of you tied up in the corner of your room.

A man in black clothes jumped out your windows as Jungkook hurried to catch him, though he ran away, thankfully jungkook still clicked the pictures of his covered face. He quickly came to you, tears streaming down with hands and legs tied, mouth sealed with tape as he shuddered. Taking off the tape and opening your body, you sobbed.

"Are you okay?" He asks, looking at your sobbing face as you hiccup and burst into tears. He quietly gasps, trying to calm you down. Wiping your tears as you clutched his clothes. He pulls you in his chest instead, "It's okay, I'm here now." He whispers though he might not be okay either.

You bury your head in his chest, "he-he..." he gently pats your head, "he tried to kill me!" You sob as he gulped, "I'll get him. You're safe now." He whispers, kissing your head, your claw clip broken on your floor, a plant broken of what shattered your window. You sniff as he wipes your tears, "You want to stay at my place, tonight?"

You try to think straight for a moment, "I'm so scared of him." You muttered mindlessly, "It's not safe in here, come with me?" You inhale some air and slowly nod your head, "I-i...I don't wanna stay here." You hug him again, breaking down in tears furthermore.

To be continued….

Taglist: @luv—youu @oopscoop @kooreo @libra04 @skzthinker @ggukieasy @httpjeonlicious @jkmaeden @lovingkoalaface @namjoonsbuspass @roseeily @2hightocare @crabby-libra @minyoongi7016 @subgoogie @rutukn @7exs @craftymoonchaos @looneybleus @shrek-the-destroyer @kp0pficdump @somehowukook @nerdycheol

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katiexpunk · 1 month

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Desert Dust | Joel Miller's POV

Summary: The last place Joel Miller expected to find himself at this point in his life was in a small highway town in Arizona, passing the days by. He never really though he needed more -- until he met you.

Warnings: This is Joel's POV from Desert Dust. Yeah, if you thought he was a consent king in the original, this just further proves it. Tommy comes with his own cheeky warning. No age gap mentioned (make it your own), but Joel mentions feeling old. Joel Miller has a bad back (it's canon). Self-deprecation. Attempted assault (not by Joel)/nothing too graphic (please be responsible about what you consume). Joel beats up a bad guy., and like actually kinda wants to kill him for trying to hurt you. References to blood and first aid. Alcohol. Pet names. Flirting/slow burn. Inexperienced reader. Body hair. References to taste of vagina. Smoking/cigarettes (it's bad, don't do it). Oral (f receiving). Praise kink. Rough sex. Sex on a desk. Just a really passionate, filthy fuck. Creampie (shocker, I know). No use of Y/N, no use of daddy. TLOU au. Reader has no physical descriptions apart from female anatomy.

W/C: ~8K

A/N: Thank you for all of the love on Desert Dust. Nobody asked for this, but I couldn't get Joel's POV outta my head, so I hope you enjoy a little deep dive into what Joel was thinking when he first walked into that restaurant. Your honor, they're in love. Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

Did you ever see a robin weep When leaves begin to die? Like me, he's lost the will to live I'm so lonesome I could cry

The timbre of Hank Williams’ voice fills the truck's cab as Joel drives. It’s early, the sky is just beginning to transition from a deep midnight blue to a gradient of warm orange as the sun gradually emerges. While Joel likes to think of himself as a morning person, his back has other opinions on the matter. It’s to be expected, though, that’s what nearly 30 years of hard labor will do to a man.

The warmth of the thermos in between his thighs contrasts with the chilly morning air pouring in through the cracked window. Smoke dances lazily around his broad frame, a burning cigarette clenched between his calloused fingers. He greedily draws long drags, knowing it’ll be hours before he can have another one. He should quit, he knows he should quit. The half-used pack of Nicorette gum that sits in his cupholder in front of him is proof of that.

But like picking at a scab or peeling the skin of a sunburn, sometimes we all do things we know we shouldn’t, things that make us feel good, if only for just a minute or two.

In truth, there isn’t a lot that makes him feel good anymore. Jesus, when did he turn into such a grumpy old man? Probably sometime between Sarah going to college, and Tommy convincing him to take this contract job in the middle of fuck all nowhere.

The silence of a falling star Lights up a purple sky And as I wonder where you are I'm so lone–

Williams’ voice falls silent as Joel turns off the truck, having pulled into the work site. He snubs out the cigarette into the ashtray in the middle of the dash and grabs his jacket, a clipboard, and safety helmet.

“Another day, another dollar,” he mutters to himself, pulling the handle on the driver's side door. The ground crunches below him, his boots are so dusty he doesn’t think he’ll ever get them clean again. God damn desert dust. He shakes his head and walks to the white trailer in front of him, unsure of why he’s so frustrated in the first place.

“Well aren’t you a ray of fucking sunshine this morning,” Tommy says, responding to the quick snap of the door after Joel enters their makeshift office.

“Don’t,” Joel bites back.

“What’s got your panties in a twist this morning, princess?” Tommy chides, sitting behind a wooden desk covered in blueprints and safety checklists.

“This really the way you want to start the day, Tommy?” Joel says, voice low and even, masking his emotions. “Just, get to work.”

He rounds around to the desk opposite Tommy’s and places everything down. The ripped chair lets out a little puff of air under his weight as he sits.

Tommy, of course, knows what’s eating at Joel. He needs to get fucking laid.

Tommy can’t even remember the last time he saw Joel with a woman it’s been so long. He was always so focused on Sarah, or growing the company, that he always put himself last. He’s tried to set Joel up on dates, but he always declines, citing he’s too busy or maybe next month.

And while Tommy doesn’t say anything, it’s as if Joel can practically hear his thoughts.

“Would you stop thinking so damn loud,” Joel mutters, and Tommy gives him a knowing smirk. “‘M fine. Worry about how we’re gonna finish this project and less about me,” Joel tells him. They both return their attention to their work.

As Joel works to finish up his administrative tasks before the rest of the crew arrives, he tries to shove down the annoyance he feels that maybe Tommy might be right. Maybe it has been too long, besides, rutting his cock into his fist in the shower every night is starting to get old.

He’s not intentionally trying to avoid meeting someone, it’s just that nobody’s ever really caught his attention, not in any genuine way. He knows he’s attractive, but it might as well be poison to him for the types of women he attracts – it’s all fake tits, tight jeans, and money-hungry cougars just looking for someone to show them a good time.

Just as he starts to think all of the good girls might be gone – he meets you.

++++

God, either this booth is uncomfortable or his back is getting worse. He tries to relieve some of the pressure by hunching over for a second. Nope, that’s worse. He sits up to full height and that’s a little better, for now, at least. He looks at the menu in front of him. He thinks about ordering a burger, but with how busy it is, he’s not confident it would come out in time before his lunch break ends. Besides, he told Tommy he would be back in less than 30.

He didn’t intend to stop, he was just looking for an excuse to clear his head. But when he went to grab his coffee, he realized he had left it on his desk. He’d taken the highway exit to get to the restaurant by chance, hoping he might find a Starbucks or something quick. But nope, as it usually goes in small towns, the only coffee place nearby is where he currently sits.

He notices you coming up to the table out of the corner of his eye and turns his head to look at you.

Shit – you’re beautiful. He thinks he might have died and gone to heaven. He watches as your thighs come flesh with the edge of the table, a coffee pot in your hand.

"Hi," you say, he notices your voice is soft. "Can I get you something to drink?"

He’s so fucked. You even sound pretty.

Your eyes find him, and he swears he feels something shift, electricity courses through him. You’re the first person to look at him, actually look at him, in years. He tries to keep his face level, not wanting to give away any of what he’s thinking.

His eyes drift down to your chest until he notices the nametag pinned to your shirt. Cute name. It matches your pretty face. He internally chuckles to himself when he notices the coffee stains and what he thinks might be ketchup on your shirt. It makes him smile, mostly because he’s no stranger to wearing food himself, although you’re a waitress, it makes more sense to him that you’d be a little messy, a little dirty. He doesn’t quite have the same excuse.

Distracted, it dawns on him that he’s probably staring. Stop being weird, she doesn’t need some old man gawking at her while she’s just trying to do her job, you fucking creep.

He moves his eyes to the coffee pot in your hand. Right. The whole reason he’s here in the first place.

"Just coffee, darlin'," he says, watching as you pour some into the mug that was already waiting on the table.

“You let me know if I can get you anything else,” you whisper.

He thinks he might pass out when he sees your smile. So, so fucked.

“Just coffee for me today, sweetheart, thank you.”

He internally grimaces when he realizes he’d let sweetheart slip, hoping it didn’t weird you out. You can take the man out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of the man. He tries not to stare as he watches you walk away, but he can’t help himself.

Sitting in silence, he nurses his coffee and tries to ignore the annoying glances that he seems to be getting from, well, everyone. He feels like he might as well have a giant arrow above his head screaming I’m horny for the waitress. He knows he’s looking at you more than he should, but like a moth to a flame, he just can’t seem to look away. He wonders how long you’ve worked here, and what your story might be. He wonders if you’re happy. Why the hell would he be wondering that? He just met you, for fucks sake.

He’s just another customer.

The establishment itself is pretty much what’d you expect for a small-town dive, the smell of grease and hamburgers wafting through the air. The portions are huge, and the coffee is good. There’s just one annoying thing about it, and he quickly learns her name is Tracy.

He only knows this because she’s quick to offer it up, calling him baby and sugar, pestering him like a fly. She’s attentive in a way that’s forced, suffocating in every possible way. He can tell she’s the type of woman who craves the attention of any man who’s willing to give her the time of day, the type of woman that lets her boobs do all the talking. He’s lonely, yes, but he’s not desperate. He wants nothing more than for you to refill his coffee, just so he can hear your voice again, but she makes it near impossible.

More than three cups of deep, but still bone tired, he feels his phone vibrate in his jeans and he knows it’ll be Tommy asking where he’s at. He pulls it out and sure enough. He looks around the restaurant, hoping maybe he might be able to cash out with you, but you’re nowhere to be seen.

He opens his worn leather wallet, the same one he’s had since Sarah gifted it to him all those years ago, only to find a handful of $20s. He drops one on the table and decides it’s not worth it to ask Tracy for change; he could go the rest of his life never talking to her again and be fine with it.

He silently slips out of the restaurant, and his curiosity about you nearly drowns him on the drive back.

But this time when he walks into the trailer, he can’t help the cheesy grin that involuntarily appears on his face.

“Who are you and what have you done with my brother?” Tommy teases, his words slightly muffled from the bite of PB&J in his mouth, the sticky tack of peanut butter glued to the roof of it.

“Shut up,” he says, but there’s no bite behind it.

++++

The days turn into weeks, and he tries to step away from work, he does. Every day he tries to find an excuse to go in and see you, a reasonable time to step away for an hour or so. But it’s hard, project demands are at an all-time high, and the client is up his butt, freaking out they won’t be done in time. He works overtime, arriving earlier than usual and leaving close to midnight nearly every night.

Joel Miller is a lot of things, but above all, he’s a man of his word. He and his brother didn’t build this company by being late or half-assing work. We’ll get it done, he reassures the client. And they will, he’ll make sure of it.

“Joel, get up man,” Tommy says, shaking his shoulder. He jolts awake, his vision a little fuzzy, slightly disoriented.

He must have drifted off during his lunch break and passed out cold on his keyboard. When he finally comes to, he automatically feels a twinge in his lower back. He’ll pay for that little nap later, he can already tell.

“You’ve been working too hard, why don’t you call it a day, go home, and get some sleep? I’ve got it here for the rest of today,” Tommy offers. As much as they fight, there is a mutual understanding there – respect, even love, although they’ll both never admit to that outright.

He starts to protest, but the pain in his back tells him that maybe he’s right. Lord knows he could benefit from a hot shower and a good night's rest, but even those things, things that should be relaxing, don’t offer him any respite. When he’s not thinking about work, he’s thinking about you. Your kind, soft eyes, and warm smile have sunk their teeth into his mind, and no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t seem to shake you.

A rather frustrating fact, considering you’ve probably forgotten all about him. Just another customer, he’s just another customer.

On the drive back home, he realizes he’s not far off from the exit to the restaurant. You’re probably not even working, and he knows he might be risking seeing Tracy again, but fuck it. Before he has time to talk himself out of the decision, he’s pulling into the parking lot.

He’s surprised at how quiet the restaurant is, a lot different from his first visit. He looks at his watch, it’s close to 3 o’clock, and from the state of the place, he can tell the lunch rush likely just finished. He tries to not be obvious about the fact that he’s scanning the place, looking for something, someone. You.

He sees you before you see him. You look – focused. He can tell you’re a little worn out, but fuck if you aren’t still adorable. He flexes his hand open and closed a few times, trying to calm nerves he didn’t even know he had anymore.

He grins a little as you tell him to take a seat wherever you want, as he watches intently as you throw the final pieces of flatware into the bin. He’s kind of impressed with how quickly you cleaned up the mess, how easily you hoist the heavy bus bin onto your hip.

When you finally notice him, he lifts his hand in a silent hello.

You look cute when you’re surprised. He can tell he’s caught you off guard. Like you weren’t expecting him. He notices as you scan his body, taking him in. He wonders if you feel this too, whatever the fuck this is.

“Oh, hi. Um, go ahead and take a seat, I’ll be with you in just a second, just gonna drop this in the back,” you say. The smile and obvious excitement that washes over your face tells him everything he needs to know.

He’s a customer. But what if he was more than that?

Jesus.

No.

He’s just a customer.

He decides that the booth by the window looks decent enough. The booth and his back fight once more, but he eventually gets comfortable. When you greet him again, your smile and soft voice melt into him, making him forget all the stress of the past few weeks. It takes him a second before it dawns on him that he hasn’t responded to you, that he hasn’t said anything. Talk to her, say something…say anything.

“I was, uh hoping you’d be here,” he says, realizing how cringe he probably sounds. Has he always been this bad at flirting?

But before he can recover, Tracy swoops in like a hawk, eager to monopolize his attention. He watches as you sink back into the depths of the restaurant, leaving him with her. No, come back.

She's quick to bring him a menu, some coffee, and offer him a selection of homemade pies, her enthusiasm bordering on overwhelming. He’s being rather curt with her, not even trying to hide the fact that he’s not interested, but the more he seems to ignore her, the stronger she comes on. He’s a thin thread away from telling her to just fuck off, but he doesn’t want to be rude. Besides, he knows you’re busy. He might not get to talk to you this time, but he will – or at least he hopes he will – especially if everything goes according to his plan.

He’s not even sure if what he intends to do can be classified as a plan. Hell, he’s just glad that he even has a spare business card in his wallet.

He scans the dining room for you, and once he spots you, he rises from the booth and intentionally catches your eye. With the worn card in hand, folded between the folds of some cash, he hopes that you understand his message when he nods and tucks it under the coffee cup. Please call. He’s not sure he’s ever been more hopeful for anything, ever.

He swings by the grocery store on his way home, picking up some beer and a frozen pizza, too tired to cook anything real for dinner. He sinks into the cushions of his couch and tries to drown out his hopefulness with the distraction of T.V. But, he’d be lying if he said his heart rate doesn’t quicken with every notification that comes through his phone.

But you don’t call or text.

He thinks that maybe you’re just trying to play it cool, not wanting to come across as too eager.

But as the days go on, still not a peep from you, he tries to shove down the darker thoughts that cross his mind. Maybe he had misinterpreted the signals you were giving him, misread the energy that feels palpable when you’re next to each other. Maybe he’s just out of practice. Not your type.

You don’t want him. Why would you? He’s just some contractor, an old washup. Probably one of dozens of men who spend their nights waiting, wishful and hungry for even just a glance from you. One of the dozens of men who spew hot loads of come onto their bellies alone at night brought to a tipping point thinking about how sweet you might sound chanting their name, how tight your pussy would feel gripped around their cock.

Fuck.

++++

Some weeks later, he’s pulling another late night at the job site. And when the fluorescent lights get to be too much, he decides to call it a night. He can’t quite put a finger on it, but there’s a gnawing in the pit of his stomach, a silent feeling like he should swing by the restaurant – maybe even apologize for coming on too strong or weirding you out. Before he can even rationalize what he’s doing, he’s once again pulling into the parking lot. Except –

Somethings wrong.

There’s only one car in the parking lot, and the neon open sign remains lit, but something feels…off.

He can feel it, like some sort of primal instinct laying dormant in his body has woken up.

It all happens so fast, faster than his mind can register. When he sees you, struggling in the hands of some fucker, he intervenes. He moves fast, doesn’t think twice, just lets his body take over. He pulls the man off of you, adrenaline coursing through his veins, his blood red hot, and his jaw tense.

“I’d think twice if I were you before you try and win this one,” he says, voice low and threatening. Don’t make me go to jail tonight.

He’s not surprised he hits the guy as hard as he does. He barely feels it, the bone-crunching under his fist. He’d probably kill the guy if you weren’t right there, watching his every move. It’s not a fair fight, not really. Joel knows he’s bigger and stronger, and has the unfair advantage of being sober. He can tell he probably broke the guy's nose, and that’s probably punishment enough. He drags the man out of the establishment and tells him to get the fuck out and never come back. He hopes the warning is enough, the message clear that if he tries to touch you again, ever, it’ll end worse. He’ll make sure of that.

He locks the door and turns to face you. You look so – scared. So innocent, shaken, like a baby deer who just saw its mother get hit by a truck. He even thinks for a second that you might be afraid of him, a thought that makes his heart sink. I would never hurt you. He brings both of his hands to the sides of your arms – keeping the touch intentionally light, with a gentle, reassuring grip. It’s okay, I’m here. You’re safe now.

“You alright?” he asks, watching with concern as you try and put on a brave face. God, he hates to see you cry, hates that anything could ever make you cry. He can tell you’re trying to avoid looking at him, not wanting him to see your vulnerability.

It’s okay. No one is going to hurt you.

He brings his hand up to cup your cheek and uses the edge of his thumb to tilt you up to look at him. God, you’re perfect.

The hand that meets his is soft until a sharp sting comes to his attention. He watches as you grab his hand and bring it down to your eye level, noticing the blood on it, a giant split down the middle of one of his knuckles. Fuck that guy. He wishes he would have given him just a little more, maybe a black eye or two.

"You're hurt," you say, the tears in your eyes now replaced with genuine concern.

He can tell you’re worried about him, a fact that makes him feel a little fuzzy inside.

"It's okay, don't worry about it, doesn't hurt," he tries to reassure you. And he is. He’s suffered worse, nothing that won’t be better in a day or two, even if it does sting like hell right now.

"We've got a first aid kit in the back. Let me clean you up," you insist, nodding towards the rear of the room.

He doesn’t want you to have to put up with that right now, especially after everything that just happened.

"It’s alright sweetheart, you don't have to, really…" he protests.

"You just defended me. Bandaging your knuckles is the least I can do to thank you," you tell him firmly, leaving no room for refusal.

Fuck, you’re so sweet. So perfect and sweet. You could ask him for the moon and he’d try to find a way to lasso it down for you.

His heart quickens as you interlace your fingers with his on his left hand and guide him through the restaurant. He even chuckles a little to himself when you tell him to watch his step. You’re being so nice, he can’t be misinterpreting this – there’s no way. But why didn’t you call? The question weighs heavy on his mind.

In the small office, you flick on the light switch and rummage through the cabinets until you find an old first aid kit tucked away in the back. He leans against the desk, quietly observing you, taking in the fact that he’s here, in this tiny office, with you. That you care enough to help him. That he cares enough to protect you.

"Ah, got it," you say with a hint of excitement that you found the kit, a little surprised there was even one stashed away. Though most of the bandages and finger condoms are missing, there's still plenty of gauze and alcohol wipes.

His cock twitches a little when you rip open the alcohol wipe with your teeth, he thinks you might be good with your mouth in more ways than one.

"This might sting a bit," you warn, meeting his gaze with genuine care. I can take it, baby. He can tell the way you’re being with him right now might be your nature, to want to take care of those around you. To be what they need.

“‘You can make it up to me later,” he whispers, hoping you’re sensing the intention behind his words. As you’re patting the blood on his knuckles, he feels the need to know why you didn’t call bubble up to the surface, the question at the tip of his tongue. Oh just ask her.

“Can I ask you something,” he says, looking down at you, not even realizing he’s holding his breath. He exhales when he hears you say mhmm in response.

Rip off the fucking bandaid man.

“Why didn’t you call?”

He watches as you close your eyes and take a deep breath. “I wanted to. I mean, I almost did – I typed out so many texts to you it’s borderline embarrassing,” you pause for a second to grab the gauze from the counter behind him. As you lean in closer to him, you bring with you the soft scent of your shampoo. You smell like honey and the earthy, clove smell of tobacco. You smell divine.

“I guess I’m just not used to being wanted. Don’t know how to do this kind of thing. I’ve been alone for so long, and I guess, I don’t know, Joel,” you affix a little piece of tape to the gauze, before dropping his hand, all finished. How could anyone not want you?

He watches you intently as you stand before him, grateful that you’re being so honest with him. He wishes so badly you would look him in the eye.

“I didn’t want to embarrass myself. Not sure why a guy like you would even want a girl like me to call him anyway…” you trail off, letting out a small cough to hide the emotion creeping up in your throat. Is she joking?

He floats his hands up to your hips, and he tugs you in closer to him, body weight still propped up against the desk, his thick thighs bracketing yours. You still avoid his eyes, your gaze seemingly fixed on a button on his shirt.

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

His hand still hurts a little, a dull throb, but he could care less right now. He trails it up over the side of your body until his fingers land under your chin. Sweet girl. He uses his thumb to tilt you up to look at him. You look so beautiful right now, so raw and so perfect. The soft plush of your lips draws his attention, and he can’t help but touch them.

There’s so much he could say, so much he wants to say. He wants to build you up, to tell you that you’re worthy of the whole world. That you’re beautiful and kind, and that any man would be lucky to have you. He doesn’t even have to deeply know you to know those things.

But he can tell from the look in your eyes that it’s not what you need right now. He’ll tell you someday. He’ll tell you every day if you’ll have him.

But no.

Right now you don’t need someone to tell you how gorgeous you are, you need someone to show you.

“Joel,” he hears you whisper, knowing full well that his thumb is still on your lower lip. He wants so badly to know what they’d feel like on his.

“Ki–”

Fuck it.

He drops his hand and leans in to crash his lips into yours, and holy shit. He wants you so fucking bad. He’s never wanted anything, or anyone, more.

He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and his cock hardens when you let out a little whimper. He holds you tighter to his chest, his thick and capable hands admiring the soft curves of your hips. He needs more, needs to taste your skin, needs to know what it feels like on his lips. He dips his mouth to your neck, kitten-kissing you as delicately as he can. More, he needs more.

He skims his injured hand underneath your shirt, caressing the skin between your shoulder blades. Jesus, you’re so impossibly soft, your skin feels like silk compared to his. He nips at your jaw, and the soft moan escapes your lips makes him feel feral.

“Fuck, baby. Wanna go slow with you, take my time. Do it right,” he says, internally acknowledging how wrecked it comes out.

He trails his hand up and pulls the shirt of your uniform down over your breast, exposing the simple lacey bra. Ugh. It’s so much for him, the little moans you keep making for him as he kisses your neck, the way your nipples respond beneath the fabric to his touch.

“Wanna show you what you’re worthy of sweet girl, in all the ways,” he groans into your chest, and he means it.

“I want you to fuck me so badly,” you blurt out, lost in the delusion of arousal.

Fuck. Yes.

His cock is rock hard, so stiff it’s almost painful. He doesn’t even remember the last time he was this hard. He wants so badly for you to just fall to your knees in this tiny little office and suck it. He wants so badly to hold the column of your throat while he shoves his thick cock into your wet and waiting mouth, feel him deep down your throat. More. He needs more.

He hopes to god that you’ll chant his name like a prayer when he unravels you like a spool of thread. He can hear it in his head now, as he licks your soft skin and holds you against him. He can’t stop thinking about how pretty you’ll sound when you come for him.

“Patience, angel baby. You’re in good hands,” he purrs.

“Can I undress you?” he asks. He wants you to know that you’re in control here, that hel’ll only do what you want him to and nothing more. You call the shots.

You toe off your beat-up sneakers and work to take off your shirt and bra, and he works to unbutton your skirt. Fucking buttons. He thinks it’s cute the way you wiggle your hips to assist him in removing the barrier. After what seems like no time at all, you’re nearly fully nude in front of him, bare save the thin cotton of your panties. Perfection. You are perfection.

He frowns a little when he notices you cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to hide your body.

“God damn, sweetheart. Look at you,” he says, taking a small step back and admiring the view. He thinks you’re a masterpiece, a piece of art holding court just for him to gaze at. He’s never really considered himself to be lucky, but he must have done something right to have you right here with him right now.

He gently grabs the arm you’re covering yourself with and exposes your bare chest. Don’t hide, baby.

“No need’ta hide from me,” he tries to reassure you.

You push your chest out to him, for him. He accepts your offering; swipes a calloused thumb across your plush, silky nipple, and crouches to catch the other in his desperate mouth. He groans into your chest the second your nipple meets his lips. He smirks at the sound of the deep hum that escapes from your throat, lips still attached to your breast.

“Feels so good, Joel,” you moan. Just getting started with you.

He trails kisses down the valley of your breasts, across the soft swell of your stomach, doing his best to whisper sweet praises as he does. It feels so good, so natural when you drape your hands over his broad shoulders and thread your fingers through the curls. It’s been so long since he’s been touched like that, the feeling goes straight to his cock. More. More. More.

He can tell you’re a little hesitant, maybe a little lost in your thoughts. He does his best to pull you back to him. On his knees, he places both of his hands on the curves of your hips and holds you steady while he looks up at you. You look so beautiful looking down at him, your lips slightly parted, your skin shiny from the sheen of sweat, your obvious arousal evident on your face. He wonders what he must look like to you.

“Can I take these off, baby?” he asks, hooking his thumbs in the band of them. He wants to hear you say it, to permit him to cross that line.

“You, um, you don’t have to. It’s okay, really…” you shy away.

Please, he pleads to himself silently.

He presses his nose into your mound and fuck, you smell so good, he can’t help but moan.

“Smell so sweet, need to taste you, sweetheart. I won’t if you don’t want me to, but fuck, I would love to,” he says, and it’s true. He suspects you’ve never had a real man take care of you, taking the time to pleasure you to your heart’s content. A damn shame.

“O-kay,” you say on an exhale.

“I gotcha, don’t worry,” he rasps out, his voice equal parts gentle, and gruff with desire. He wants to reassure you.

He gently tugs the fabric down over your thighs, the fabric gathering at your ankles. You take a small step out of them, and he gently caresses up the back of your calve, and back of your thigh, his hand landing on the curve of your ass. He tightly grabs the flesh there. He gently guides your leg up onto one of his shoulders, and you press back into the wall and lean your pelvis closer to him.

“Fuck, what a pretty little pussy,” he praises, before leaning in to place an experimental kiss on the top of your mound. He thinks this might be the most perfect pussy he’s ever seen in his life. Making sure you aren’t uncomfortable, he looks at you to make sure you’re okay with him continuing.

He’s eager, and he’s sure it’s coming across in the way he’s kissing you. Once you’re comfortable with his mouth on you, he glides the middle finger of his non-bandaged hand through your wet slit before flipping it so it’s wrist up, pausing with the pad of it right at the entrance of your tight hole.

He thinks he could come right there, with the way you’re looking down at him with lusty doe eyes and biting your lower lip. He watches your face as he gently nudges the tip in. Fuck, you’re so tight. He holds it there for a brief second, his restraint threadbare, before fully thrusting it up into your core.

“Fuck angel, you’re tight,” he moans as he continues to feel you, eventually putting his mouth back on your pussy, sealing his lips around your puffy clit. He pumps his finger in and out of you and flicks and swirls his tongue where he can feel you need it the most. You’re so wet for him, so tight, so willing. If he weren’t already on his knees, he knows he’d fall to them eventually, he’d worship at your alter every day if you’d let him.

“More,” you moan, “Fuck–please, Joel, give me more,” you mewle.

“That’s my girl, gonna stretch you out, get you nice and ready for this cock,” he whispers against your wet skin as he slips another finger in, one you greedily accept. He devours you, licks at you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, because you are. He could stay here for hours, making you come for him again and again.

He can tell you’re close, so he picks up his pace. You’re nearly there, seconds away from giving him what he wants. Just one more –

“Holy shit, yes, I’m coming, oh my god, don’t stop,” you unravel for him, a babbling mess of pleasure, he holds you steady as he works you through it. Perfect, sweet girl. The taste of your release and the pretty sounds you make coming have his cock aching. He gently hoists your leg off of his shoulder and rises to full height.

“Such a good girl for me, you come so pretty,” he whispers against your neck, nipping at your jaw until your lips find his. He wonders if you’ve ever tasted yourself before, or if he’s the first to kiss you after eating you out – the thought makes him even harder, to know he might be the first to show you how sweet you taste.

He watches as you begin to kneel before him. He stops you before your knees touch the floor.

“You don’t want me to suck your cock?” you ask. He does. Of course he does. He’s just not sure he’d last, but he’d never admit that, besides, there’s something he needs so much more right now.

“Oh angel baby, I would love to feel those sweet little lips of yours wrapped tight around my cock, hold your throat as you choke on me,” he coos.

He groans as he feels you bring your palm to cup him through his jeans, drinking in the sensation of your hands tracing over him. His jaw tightens and his head falls back as you work over him. His cock welcomes the attention, too. He’s already leaking, he needs to come so bad.

“But there’s something I want more right now. Feel what you do to me?” he says, pressing your hand harder down onto him. “Need to feel that sweet, tight cunt of yours around me first,” he says intensely. You make quick work of undoing his belt buckle and slip off his jeans and boxers in one swoop. It feels so good to be free of the confines of his pants, the pressure on his cock a little less overwhelming now.

“Yo–you’re so big,” you say, a little intimidated. He grabs you by the hips and holds you tight against him, his cock pressed between your bodies against the bare flesh of your tummy. He can tell you might be a little overwhelmed, but he reassures you.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You can take it,” he says, using one hand to grab the back of your thigh and tapping the other. He lifts you with ease and spins you around so you’re sitting on the mahogany desk in front of him. He stands between your legs, holding himself by the base, pumping himself slowly up and down his length with his fist. He stares at your wet, aching hole, wishing he was buried inside of it. The thought dawns on him that he doesn’t have a condom. No, fuck. “I’m on birth control,” you say, blurting it out. “And I’m clean, you don’t have to use a condom, I mean, if you don’t want to.” And shit – that’s quite possibly the best sentence he’s ever heard in his entire life.

He knows it might be a little reckless, but he doesn’t have any reason to believe you’d lie to him.

“Okay. Open your legs wide for me, baby. Wanna see you,” he says, and you do as he tells you. He sees his hard cock in his hand and opens his mouth to spit on it. You’re wet and ready, but he knows he’s a lot to take, and he doesn’t want to hurt you.

He admires the way you’re holding your legs open for him, giving him full access to your cunt. He positions himself at your entrance and gently pushes his hips forward so the tip of him is inside of you. Holy fuck. He pauses there, giving you a second to adjust.

“Eyes on me, baby. Wanna see you as I take what’s mine,” he says, his voice a wreck. When you open them, he sinks even deeper. Halfway inside of you, he pauses again. How is he ever supposed to last with your pussy clenched this tight around him.

He asks if you’re okay, and when you nod, he pushes in a little more, dragging back out of you for only a second, until he’s jutting his hips forward, fully burying himself deep inside of you. Nothing has ever felt this good to him, nothing could ever compare.

Jesus, think of something else – make this last. He tries to distract his mind, disconnect his cock from his brain, but there’s no point. His primal urges have taken over, his body is losing the war with his mind.

He sets a slow and steady rhythm at first, dragging in and out of you. He would love to fuck you harder, deeper. He knows he won’t last long, but he doesn’t care, as long as he gets you to come for him one more time.

“You can fuck me harder, Joel. ‘M not gonna break, I promise,” you coo. His hand flexes tighter, and that’s all he needs. Give the girl what she wants. “Shit, c’mere,” he says, helping you off the desk, steading your legs. He flips you over and presses you against the desk. Your hips are perfectly positioned at the edge. He’s not sure anything could be prettier than you bent over, waiting to once again be stuffed with him.

He stands behind you, angles your hips up slightly, and once again buries himself in you.

“Such a perfect cunt,” he groans, beginning to set a relentless pace. As good as this feels for him, he can tell that something about this angle does something for you, too. His cock fits just right, pushing and gliding over the spongey spot inside of you that he can tell is gonna be the thing that pushes you over the cliff of your orgasm. He holds your hips tightly as he pumps in and out of you, eliciting throaty moans from you. The air is filled with the filthy wanton sound of skin slapping against skin.

“I –” you mew, “I think I’m gonna come again,” he hears you say, a little breathless.

“Come for me, baby. Be the good girl I know you are and show me how pretty you are when you come on my cock,” he says, a little out of breath, voice deep.

Yeah, that’s right. Use me.

And you do. Your pussy pulses around him as the wave of your orgasm takes over you, and it’s borderline too much for him. He’s gotta slow down if he’s gonna last another second.

“Where do you want me, baby?”

“Inside, please. Want you to fill me up, make me yours,” you beg for him.

Holy fuck.

After a few more thrusts of his hips, he begins to stutter and slow. He pauses buried to the hilt inside of you and groans as his cock paints your insides with thick ropes of come. The immediate release of pressure is exhilarating, probably the best orgasm he’s ever had. He feels his cock pulse out final spurts of come, eliciting shakes from him with each one. He feels weightless like he could fly away and sleep on a cloud.

The sensation of him pulling out is a little much, his cock raw and spent. “Stay there,” he says, scurrying off to the kitchen, looking for something he can give you to help clean you up. His eye catches a roll of paper towels next to the sink and he grabs a handful of them for you.

When he enters the office, he notices how breathtaking you look post-orgasm, post-fuck. It’s a sight he’ll commit to memory forever. He presses his lips to yours again, drinking in your sweetness once more. He thinks he could kiss you forever and never tire of it.

He helps you get dressed, and you fasten his belt buckle for him and check the gauze on his fist. You both stand there in silence, not quite sure where to go from here, until he offers up.

“Wanna smoke?”

++++

“So, how long have you lived here’?” he asks, holding open the lit zippo from his back pocket to you. With the cigarette dangling between your lips, you steady it between your fingers and lean in, he admires your features amidst the dim glow of the fire. So beautiful.

“Too long,” you mumble. He lights his own.

“And you, where are you off to next?” He hears you ask, and he's not sure how to respond.

“Not sure, the contract job my brother and I have in the county over ends in a week or so. Was thinkin’ it might be nice to head south, maybe Austin,” he responds, smoke twirling in the air around you both.

“Although, ‘M not so sure anymore. Starting to think I might have a few things I need to take care of here first,” he says, shifting his gaze from the ground until his hooded eyes find yours. You. I need to take care of you.

You smile when he winks at you. Gosh, you’re cute when you smile. He wants to be the reason you smile every day.

You stand there in comfortable silence, leaning up against the wall next to him. He thinks it feels nice to be wanted, to have someone to just be with.

And when it’s time to go, he offers you his hand and a ride home. He’s pleased when you accept.

It’s too soon. He knows it’s too soon, but the thought of you in the passenger seat of his truck, feet on the dash, wind in your hair, makes his heart skip a beat.

He wants more.

And something tells him you do, too.

END

Ily. Thanks for reading! Tags: @endlessthxxghts @theoasisofthings @pedrostories @bastardmandennis @milly-louise @drunk-and-capable @survivingandenduring @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro @amyispxnk @paleidiot @ghostwritesthings @kulekehe @darkheartgatita @goldenhxurs @morallyinept @missladym1981 @auteurdelabre @morgaussy @likeficsinthewnd @morning-star-joy @agentjackdaniels @cayleej @amyispxnk @zialltops @syd-djarin @untamedheart81 @gracevnn @pedrossl4t @littlevenicebitch69 @chulopascal

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