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forthelostones · 2 months

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𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ➺ 𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲 #2

anderson construction and landscaping had been parked outside your door since you returned home from university. as if the summer couldn't get any hotter, the business owner works overtime in your area. anderson is collecting new, loyal clients of your neighbors, cementing her permanence in your life for the next few months. what's to come of your girlish crush when she keeps showing up?

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜. 18+ (mdni); age-gap, young!reader, older!abby, butch!abby, slow-burn, suggestive language, thoughts of infidelity, ellie ft, smoking/drinking, mentions of parents, nickname: sweetheart, and modern au.

𝚊𝚗. everyone wow thank you so much for the love on for your eyes only! it means so much. here’s something a little different, hope you enjoy. any requests don’t hesitate to drop ‘em, xx jstar.

♫ 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝. distraction by kehlani ♫

palestinians still need e-sims!!! click the link to figure out how you can donate.

The overly generous housewife commissioned me another large project, to which I simply could not decline. Summertime is when business is the best and she just became my second client in this particular neighborhood. It was a carbon copy of the nearby cities split by four-way stops and freeways. The demands were never unique or fresh, causing me a great deal of creative fatigue when I had to order identical materials from my supplier. I pressed the half-empty bottle of frosty Sam Adams against my neck, soothing the battering I received from the sun this afternoon. There was a cacophony of Casio watch alarms indicating that lunch was over. All my workers were so ecstatic to finish up today’s task and celebrated with loud audible sighs.

“Men can be such pigs,” I whispered, consolidating their empty glasses sticky with sugar.

“Men and children,” She adds, catching me off guard.

I smile over to her blankly, having very little experience with either.

“Yes, my little one over there used to be a slobbering mess.”

I glance over my shoulder to see her daughter sucking on a lemon wedge. Her dark pink lips are tacky with citrus and teeth white against the sunny flesh shedding onto her mouth’s crevasses. I trace the thin maroon-shaded line on the outside of her lips. I find my tongue gliding over my own, thinking of how the lemon would taste between us both. Her eyes jut open once she realizes I am looking at her, eyelashes feathery and light under the sun. Then she just stares at the ground, scraping the sole of her worn Converse against the driveway pavement, attempting to conceal her smile.

“Have any?” She asks.

“Any kids? Ah, no. I don’t.”

She invites me into her home with my hands full of expensive glassware. She screams out to her daughter to bring in the remaining to which she obliges silently, the wedge now dry between her teeth. I wait before walking through the mysterious door and let her guide me — once again with no words. I watched her hips wobble, compressed in spandex, as she walked in front of me. Blinking myself out of the curve of her behind, I stepped up the concrete steps into the kitchen area. Once the daughter placed the glasses on the granite island, she discarded her lemon by spitting it directly into the bin, before lifting the cups out of my hands.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” I hummed naturally.

“So we’re good for a consultation tomorrow Abigail?”

I stalked the daughter's movements as she traveled to the dishwasher on the other side of the kitchen. She hunched over to load the dishwasher, ass drawing me back in as she bent down into a squat to adjust something on the rack.

“Abigail?” Her mother probed.

“Yes, ma’am, sorry I was just going through my schedule in my mind.” I laughed nervously.

“Don’t you have an assistant for all that stuff?”

“No ma’am, not yet. But we’re good for a consultation at 7:00 am?”

“Yes, my husband will be here and it’ll be a nice affair. Darling, why don’t you give Abigail all of our numbers. It will be necessary once she starts coming by regularly to fix your bathroom and the deck.”

Her daughter bounced on her heels and closed the washer, turning to me, worrying her lip in her mouth. She looked between her mother and me, confused at the declaration of plans.

“I didn’t know… uh… renovations to my bathroom, okay.” She said.

“You’ve been complaining about it, so we’re getting it fixed, see Abigail out.”

She wipes her hands on her shorts and leaves wet smears on the material, the handprints incasing her plump thighs. The girl guides me back to the entrance we came in, her mother wishing me farewell as I step out of the kitchen and back into the garage. I turn to her, still perched on the top of the concrete step, her breasts now eye-level. They glimmer like diamonds just before I tilt my head back and meet her reticent eyes. She holds out her hand, palm upward, demanding something.

“Phone?” She says.

“Oh right, uh I think I left it in the truck,” I say patting my pockets. “Why don’t you just take mine down?”

She removes her phone from her waistband and opens the contact page allowing me to type in my information. I look up at her and she nods at my name on the screen. I huff and start strutting out of the wide garage door. Just as my boot touches the line between the shaded concrete of the garage and driveway, I hear her sweet voice shimmer. “See ya, Ms. Anderson.”

“Bye.” I wave as the heat from outside embraces me and a collection of warmth bottles inside of me from hearing my name so velvety on her lips.

꒰ঌ ໒꒱

My neck and forehead were drenched as I rolled over to throw my legs over the couch. The tightness in my lower back that could only be saved by major corrective massaging was throbbing violently. My body stiffened from using this old couch as my bed again, the third time this week. My actual bedroom was a few steps away from the front door but I never make it there. Under my left leg was another thriller book whose name is now obsolete and could explain why I was sweaty and anxious throughout the night. I thumbed the pages and set them on the massive pile of manila folders that accumulated on the coffee table. I put my finger under my glasses and rubbed my eyes clear. What a mess my house has become. The sun wasn’t even up yet and I question why I still do any of this. This a question I ask myself every day actually. I touch the screen of my phone that I forgot to put on charge last night, again, and see all the notifications accumulated after 7:00 pm.

Payments due, meetings, consultations, etc., are all semi-organized in a calendar system I have yet to perfect.

11:00 PM: See you in the morning, Ms. Anderson :)

I felt my mouth open slightly. I was pathetic, smiling at a simple text. How long had it been since a notification on my phone was from a woman? I opened the message to type but it’s far too late to reply… right? I liked the message, saved her number as the address, and placed my phone down on the counter. I picked up my tube of toothpaste and noticed how thin it became. I will need to run to the store after work today, another thing to add to the list of shit I didn’t want to do. I used all my might to pop out the last bulb of paste.

Today was supposed to be an easy day, do the consultation, and oversee the the porch while I put up ads for an assistant I desperately needed. After slicking my hair I walked back into the living room where piles of paperwork overwhelmed the space. I needed an assistant and quickly if I was going to continue to expand my business.

Two cups of black coffee today as I discovered my creamer was congealed and rotten beyond belief. Another thing I need to do is go grocery shopping. I searched for my keys under the folders stacked on my coffee table. It was already 6:30 a.m. and by my standards, I was running late. Once every piece of paper was misplaced and out of order, I recalled my keys' presence on the loop of my cargos. I pressed my head against my seat and let out a sigh before turning on my truck and an audiobook, A Certain Hunger. Another fucking day.

My truck hummed as I parked on the street in front of the plain light blue house. I winced at my final sip of bitter caffeine while pulling the keys out of the ignition and attaching them to my belt loop. I dig in my back seat for my work bag and drag it with me to the front door. After I knocked, a man of my height opened the door to welcome me in.

“Abigail,” He said unamused by my presence.

“Good morning,” I replied.

“So, this deck came with the house and it’s very outdated and my wife would like to…”

His voice faded into a tornado of my own thoughts. It was usually the same customers, who had a ten-year-old porch or deck, wanted it to look modern and have the money to waste on it. I shouldn’t complain because I'm willing to take what they’re willing to cough up.

“Let me show you the bathroom we want to redo.”

I followed him up the hardwood steps that opened into a mezzanine that split into three directions. One I assumed was a bathroom, a master suite, and a baby pink painted door with a crown-shaped sign that said: ‘The Princess’ Room'. I found myself cracking a smile. He knocked on the door before entering, to which his restless daughter opened her eyes and pulled the duvet over her chest.

“Dad.” She groaned, catching a glimpse of me just before retreating completely under the blanket.

The view I caught of her face was soft and her lips were perfectly swollen to take into my mouth. I clear my throat and push the thought down just before nearly tripping over one of the many boxes cascading around the room. The bathroom was bright with shades of pink I had never seen before.

“We just want something black, gold, something mature for the college grad.” He tried to smile but shrugged as if his wife told him to say those exact words.

“Great, I can draft something up and give you a quote.”

“Nice, I do have to run, my rude daughter will see you out.”

His hand briefly gripped my shoulder as he walked past me. I looked over to the bed and placed my thumbs into my belt loops as she peeked from the covers. Her bare shoulders indicated that she was in no position to walk me out. I followed the deep line of her collarbone and blinked heavily. I swallowed as my cheeks became flushed and marched out of the room before finding my way back into my truck in a blur. I placed my hand on my chest and imagined my skin was hers. How it would feel under my hands after a long day and possibly how she would feel on mine too. There was a deeper ache in me that needed to be satisfied. The safety of knowing my body belonged to someone else would soothe my mind. I would finally get some release if—

A knock on my window jolted me back into reality. She was standing on the other side of the glass with her hand above her eyebrows trying to shield herself from the early morning sun. Her body is now covered in an all-white cotton sleepwear set that was hastily thrown on. I linger on the movement of her breasts and the outline of her hips as her hand gently catapults the most delicate parts of her body into a wave. The fabric held no regard for a woman’s eye like mine. The silhouette of her dark nipples and sloping v-line at the waistband of her flowing shorts pulled at a string that hadn’t been yanked in a long time. I felt a thrum deep below my belt. I turn the key to roll the window and she smiles slightly, lips slathered in a pinkish gloss that caught my attention immediately.

“Hi,” She mutters.

“Morning.” I reply.

“Um, sorry I wasn’t—”

“You’re good. So, Princess?”

I regretted saying it until her smile grew into a chuckling laughter that echoed down the silent street. I grinned with her as her skin glistened from the pure sunlight, uninterrupted of any lingering elements.

“To be fair, we’ve lived in this house forever.” She adds.

“Uh-huh, well, no worries all that pink will be gone.” I glance down to her mouth and she retracts her lips to make them vibrate with a pop.

“In a way, I’ll miss it but it's time for something new.”

Those words hung in my mind and the cadence in which said it, implying something more than just new tiles and a coat of white paint.

“Right, have a nice day,” I say.

“Oh and Abby,” She adds, leaning into the window with her perfect fingers on the windowsill. “Can you tell me when you’re coming so I can at least be dressed?”

Before I could get a word in she was already heading back through the front door of her house.

꒰ঌ ໒꒱

I sat on the sidewalk with my laptop and lawn chair, writing out a description for an assistant. I had been so used to doing everything on my own when I started but now I need to switch my methods before I can’t do it anymore. The team was getting along well with the porch and we were almost done, one week in advance, but I can’t count too much on their loud mouths to stay on task. It felt nice to sit in the sun and give my body a rest, I needed more of this. But now I was just staring at the cursor on the screen wondering what I needed an assistant to do.

As a woman who owns her own company…

(DELETE)

I am looking for someone who is …

(DELETE)

In need of an Administrative Assistant who can help with my everyday business needs. This includes filing records, sending invoices to clients, being the main contact for clients, and other tasks as assigned. If you are applying, provide a resume listing previous experience relevant to this job. Set hours of 30 per week may include, working in an office, on the job site, and traveling with me. Pay starts at $19.00 per hour. Please send your interest to [email protected]. Thank you.

I triple-checked my grammar to ensure there were no errors and posted it to all the job-hiring websites I could think of. I exhaled knowing the mess of my life would soon become organized with the assistance of someone more qualified than me to sort it out. I close my warm laptop walk around to the driver's seat and place it into my bag. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice someone watching me from the sidewalk.

As I lift my gaze I notice my stalker. She walks over to me, fully dressed in bright yellow athleisure and a smile. “I realized something.” She says, hands on the fat of her hips. I pause as I notice the contrast of the sunflower yellow against her skin. If I didn't know, I would mistaken her for the sun.

“And that is?”

“You told my dad you were going to mock-up something but never got what I wanted it to be. Doesn’t there have to be a meeting of some sort so you know what style I like?”

“I thought your style was black and gold?”

She stood just a foot away from me and I cast her body in my shadow, relieving her from the sun. I hovered over her but if she only knew how yielding I felt around her this persona would vanish.

“It is but I want to have some say in the creative process.” She tilts her head, milking me for every ounce of consideration.

“Of course. So, a design meeting?”

I cross my arms and not in a subtle way. It wasn’t an intentional distraction, just a habit.

“Yes.” She said, holding her eye contact with me.

“Fine. Cool,” I say and she chuckles.

A woman my age shouldn’t be saying cool.

“How does this work then?”

I open the door and bend over the seat to grab my notebook with pages crumbled and falling out.

“We schedule a meeting, I doodle a bit, and we come to an agreement. Will cost you extra though, most clients just trust my first design.” I shrug.

“Oh,”

“Is that okay with you?”

“Of course. How does tomorrow sound?”

“Oh coo— great. Tomorrow at … 3 pm?” I said, avoiding her gaze that has yet to leave my body.

“I can do that.”

“You can stop by my office tomorrow then, I will send you the address.”

#abby anderson smut #abby x reader #abby anderson x you #lesbian #abby anderson tlou2 #abby the last of us #wlw and nblw only #wlw yearning #lesbian age gap #femme4butch #dyke #abby anderson #abby tlou

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redjadethewriter · 4 days

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Blank the Series: The Novel vs The Show

After finally sitting down and reading the source material for the series, I must admit that I had expected it to be more provocative. However, to me, it was more like reading a soft-core erotica - nothing too outrageous. I hesitate to even classify it as soft-core, but that’s the best way I can describe it. Of course, anything involving BDSM is bound to stand out.

Despite my initial reservations, I found myself engaged in the love story between Khun Nueng and Anueng. The story, although a bit too PG-13 for my taste, held my attention. In my analysis of the series, I primarily focused on the character interactions, their internal struggles, insecurities, and how these factors influenced their actions and decisions.

Being a crone, I naturally gravitated towards examining Khun Nueng’s character more closely, as I found her to be the most relatable. However, I must acknowledge that Anueng is a well-developed character as well. She serves as a reminder that, regardless of age, individuals can possess cunning and resourcefulness.

While Anueng may appear childish around Khun Nueng in the series, after reading the novel, I gained a deeper understanding of why she expresses herself in such an over-the-top and annoying manner. It’s because she wants to elicit a reaction from Khun Nueng, as it seems to be the only way to make her “look more human” or act like it. In the novel, Khun Nueng rarely shows facial reactions unless she’s prompted to do so, which Anueng does often. Otherwise, Khun Nueng would simply hide behind her stoic mask all the time.

Interestingly, Khun Nueng’s go-to response to anyone expressing a romantic interest in her is, “Are you worthy of me?” as a tactic of scaring them away. This phrase serves as her motto, even though she doesn’t have any specific criteria for determining who would be worthy of her love, mainly because she has never truly loved anyone. So, when Anueng challenges this line by asserting, “I’m not today, but I will become worthy,” it deeply shocks our ice queen, both in the novel and in the series. It’s something she never expected.

As I’ve mentioned before, Khun Nueng finds herself in quite a bit of trouble because she has met her match in Anueng. They are contrasting yet compatible characters, and that’s what I find intriguing. They possess similarities that draw them closer together while also reflecting their deepest flaws. In a striking revelation, I realized their insecurities were actually quite similar, but in reverse. Anueng becomes jealous because of her insecurities about being young and not having much to offer, constantly worrying that Khun Nueng might end up with someone her own age who has a more established life. On the other hand, Khun Nueng frets about being too old and the possibility of the young girl eventually growing bored with her, changing her mind, and leaving.

Khun Nueng exhibits striking similarities to her grandmother, both in the series and in the novel. They share an icy demeanor, a controlling nature, and a toxic fixation on perfectionism. Despite leaving behind her privileged status, these traits have carried over into her more humble life as an artist. I now understand that her choice to rebel against her grandmother was not all simply out of spite, but a deliberate decision to assert her own identity.

While Khun Nueng desires her grandmother to acknowledge her responsibility for Song’s death and their collective suffering, she also longs to discover her true self. Above all else, Khun Nueng yearns to experience a wider range of emotions. She craves the taste of disappointment, having never truly felt loved or experienced the exhilaration of a racing heart. In the show, she exemplifies this by placing her hand over her heart and feeling it race in the presence of Anueng.

Khun Nueng lacks ambition. Although she pursues a career as an artist to sustain herself, she does not envision it as a long-term path. She wishes to continue using her artistic talents, but without the constraints of working for someone else. Her yearning for freedom outweighs any financial concerns, despite her constant struggle to make ends meet. In fact, Khun Nueng embraces the hardships that come with being a “starving artist.” Her upbringing with her grandmother shielded her from feelings of disparity and anguish, making the challenges she faces now exhilarating rather than burdensome.

Khun Nueng remains unimpressed by materialism and possesses a practical approach to life. She values essentials like food over fancy clothes, which captivate Anueng in the novel. Khun Nueng refuses to let those who flaunt their status and wealth sway her, as she cannot be bought.

Overall, Khun Nueng’s character is complex and multi-faceted. Her resemblance to her grandmother, with her stoic demeanor, her secret pursuit for emotional depth, her lack of ambition, and her indifference towards status all contribute to her unique persona.

While watching the series, I noticed that the first episode started the story at a much later scene from the novel. In this scene, the characters were already familiar with each other. Initially, I was confused because I wondered why Khun Nueng walked the girl to the bus-stop and knew which bus Anueng needed to get on. The wordplay exchange between them, especially with Anueng stating she was running away and asking to stay with Khun Nueng, added to my confusion.

As I continued watching, around episode 2 or 3, I noticed the girl had a lot of drawings that Khun Nueng had made for her. Being the analytical person that I am, I figured they must have met multiple times before. My confirmation of this came later when I read the story.

To explain Khun Nueng’s constant worry for the girl’s safety and her habit of always walking her to the bus stop, we found out that since the day they met, Khun Nueng had discreetly made sure Anueng got home safely at late hours. She would even follow Anueng from a distance to her house. From day one, our favorite dead-face character had been the protector, constantly concerned about the girl’s well-being.

I would like to highlight the similarities between Khun Nueng and her younger sister, Sam. However, before discussing their similarities, it is important to address the issues that arise between siblings. The reason Khun Nueng behaves more like their grandmother is because she received the most attention from her. Sam acknowledges this fact, admitting that although both of them were loved by their grandmother, she never had her undivided attention. This observation became clear to me while watching Gap the Series, as Sam was the one who received the least amount of attention. This dynamic only changed when Khun Nueng left and after Song passed away.

Even until the very end of their grandmother’s life, Sam tried to convey this, trying to get Khun Nueng to reconcile with their grandmother. Episode 6 showcased their close relationship, despite their occasional conflicts. I also understand the perspective of sibling favoritism, as Khun Nueng received the most scrutiny and was molded by their grandmother to potentially take her place in the future. This is why I see such striking similarities between Khun Nueng and their grandmother. However, Sam and Khun Nueng are undeniably similar as siblings. Sam has a tendency to express her jealousy openly, while Khun Nueng displays it in a manner that is passive-aggressive. Both of them struggle to admit their jealousy and have a tendency to hurt their partners in the process, as they refuse to acknowledge their own flaws and weaknesses.

Sam undergoes a transformation. We witnessed her growth in Gap the Series, and in Blank the Series, we see Sam attempting to show her love for Mon by baking a pie from scratch. This action surprised Khun Nueng, especially considering she could have easily purchased one from a top-tier bakery. However, Sam wanted to infuse her love into the pie.

We observe a similar act of love in episode 6, but this time it is Khun Nueng cooking home-cooked meals for Anueng instead of going out to eat. This is why I concluded by saying, “Girl... you are lying to yourself.” Cooking for someone is an incredibly personal gesture, and I don’t do it for just anyone. Therefore, I know fully that she constantly deceives herself.

In conclusion, the novel and the series share many similarities. Although there were some necessary omissions and alterations to the timeline and character interactions, I hope these changes will be seamlessly integrated in season 2, maintaining the steady pacing that has been established. Based on the first 6 episodes, I have a sense of what elements they might keep and what they may change. However, I do hope that they don’t stray too far from the meaningful aspects of the original source material, which I won’t go into detail about. I must acknowledge that the novel was clever in incorporating elements that kept me engaged until a satisfying conclusion. Therefore, if I see these same qualities in the series, I will be truly impressed, and the show will prove itself to be deserving of my attention.

I appreciate the good content.

Thank you.

#lgbt author #blank the series #lgbtq community #blank the series novel review #wlw age gap stories #GL series #thai gl #gl drama

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