REVERSE ISEKAI'D IN AN OFFICE ROMANCE? chapter five! (Patreon)

synopsis: who'd wanna trade a fantasy world for a studio apartment and a shitty job? well, you when you've got a ridiculously hot coworker you're sure is your new prince charming! it's just, uh, you didn't think you'd get caught up in a love triangle when your new neighbor starts noticing your new behavior!

pairing: dorky!coworker x isekai'd!reader x grumpy!neighbor

content: light angst and fluff, reverse isekai, (POTENTIAL SPOILER FOR THE UNNAMED EXTRA SO MAKE SURE YOU ARE CAUGHT UP HERE FIRST) reader is the og priestess from tue in that reader's body, tension, domestic fluff, flirting

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“You look like you’ve never been in a grocery store before.” 

Clearly, you needed to work on your blending in skills. 

“There’s just a lot to look at,” you defensively muttered, hands tightly gripping the cart as you pushed it forward, your focus drifting from the harsh lights back to your neighbor’s um, rather disgruntled face. 

To be honest, you hadn’t realized what he was trying to ask you out to a restaurant until well after you chirped that you wanted to go grocery shopping anyway. No, it didn’t hit you until you were walking around and he started huffing and puffing. 

Beefy arms folded across his chest, his stare sliding between you and his son as you slowly made your way through the bread aisle. The latter was being quiet, brooding just as much as he picked up the cheapest loaf from the bottom shelf before throwing it in with the rest of the food.

His dad hadn’t added anything himself. 

“You’ve hit me with the cart like, five times,” he dryly muttered in front of you as his green eyes glanced accusingly at you, his mouth twitching down as you briefly considered bumping it into him again. 

“I only counted four,” you blinked, a little amused at how much he was tolerating. 

He glanced back at you with borderline disbelief, mouth opening like he was about to retort something snappy back.

But you cut him off, shrugging a little as you spoke slowly, “Besides, the wheel isn’t working right.”

“They’re all like that,” he mumbled, apparently overlooking you running into him. 

It wasn’t like you were trying to. 

All the brightly-colored and carefully packaged food items were just far more distracting than you imagined, your attention drifting to the shelves lining the aisles far more than where you were pushing the cart. 

“I haven’t been shopping since the accident,” you sighed, pushing out your bottom lip as you tried to straighten the cart out only to bump into the back of his ankle again. 

He glared at you for a second, your stomach twisting uncomfortably for a moment before his features softened, his lips parting in a sigh as he shook his head. 

“Let me do it,” he gruffly offered, side stepping around to take over, his side brushing against yours. 

Nudging you away as he rested his elbows on the bar, brows pinching together as he nodded towards the aisle. 

“Look around then,” he dryly grunted. “Get what you want.” 

You were going to do that anyway. 

Why not? 

Your bank account might be a little…barren right now. But soon enough you’d get more than enough to take care of yourself and not worry about what was in your fridge.

This was nice. Normal. 

You liked it a lot more than you expected. 

How it felt to stroll through the different sections, so many admittedly overwhelming options waiting for you as your eyes slowly took it all in. 

This life was already proving to have far more potential than your last. 

But for what? 

You weren’t sure what you wanted just yet. Not completely. 

Sure, you had an idea. But it was fun to not be tied down, bound by anything other than your own whims and whatever bills were delivered to your door. 

Love would be wonderful. 

Domesticity. Intimacy. 

Daydreaming of long days where you could just be this new you and not feel the need to play a role or put on a performance.  

Where you could walk around a store and feel like you had a place among all the normal people. 

That’s what you were now, wasn’t it? Normal? 

You never realized how badly you always wanted it until you had it. 

Picking out a colorful bag of chips you’d seen a commercial for on TV, eyeing how many different fruits and vegetables you’d never tasted or tried before all laid out, getting to watch mist spray out with barely-concealed delight at the way it made them glisten. 

“You’re staring at everything,” he commented, nudging you as you found yourself unconsciously creeping closer to his side when a couple passed by. 

“Is there something wrong with that?” You asked, tilting your head to the side as he let out a dramatic sigh before shaking his head. Dark hair flopping around a little as he did, clearly in need of a trim as you stared at his dead ends. 

It wasn’t nearly as healthy as your coworker’s hair, you noted, although you kept your thoughts to yourself. 

And he kept his observations to himself too for the rest of your shopping, his features strangely stern through most of it, managing to seem the teensiest bit fatherly when he stopped his son from scampering on too far ahead from the two of you. 

You wondered what it must be like to have a child. 

To have someone who needed you. That you were responsible for. 

It was hard to imagine a guy like him deciding he wanted that. Or even picture him with a newborn pressed against his skin. 

But despite all your new social ineptitudes, you knew better than to ask when he hadn’t offered the information. 

So you just kept staring instead. Studying them and their interactions as much as you absorbed everything else about this fascinating setting. How he turned his nose up and scrunched his lips when his son tried to grab the more expensive brands, muttering that the cheap stuff was all the same before trading it out. How his kid just matched his scowl, looking like a mini-him as he huffed and grumbled that he was the cheap one. 

It eventually fell into an awkward silence by the time you reached the checkout. You didn’t really know what to do, standing off to the side behind them as they worked to take their stuff out of the cart. His son was struggling to reach most of it, getting on his tiptoes to reach inside the cart and scurrying over to put it with the rest of the groceries, his head constantly swiveling back to the candy lined up. Eyeing a chocolate bar hungrily, his bottom lip jutting out although he never opened his mouth to ask for it. 

“You’ve got a lovely family,” the cashier complimented his dad, and before you could speak up, about to deny it, but he was scoffing.

“She’s just my neighbor.” 

Right. 

“So, uh, are these separate then or-” 

“No, I’m paying for hers too,” he snapped, leaving the cashier just as confused as you were. 

But who were you to deny charity? 

Especially after you had spent an entire day babysitting his son?

He was grimacing though when he pulled out his wallet, grumbling to his son to help you line up your groceries next, so you tagged in to grab whatever he couldn’t reach. 

And while neither of them were looking, you snagged that chocolate bar, slipping it in between a bag of rice and a bundle of bananas. 

You sort of thought he would bitch and complain about the cost, but your neighbor was rather courteous. Pushing the cart back to his car, popping open the trunk and loading most of it up himself, asking if you were satisfied before driving all three of you the short distance back to your apartment building. 

He drove a lot faster than your coworker. 

You may not have a particularly great understanding of the rules of the road, but you were under the distinct impression he was probably breaking a lot of them. Blowing past a sign that clearly said STOP, his knee impatiently bouncing when he was at an intersection on a red light, looking around like he might go anyway. 

He wasn’t even wearing a seatbelt. 

You looked over your shoulder at his kid in the backseat, concern etched in your mouth until you realized with a faint trickle of relief that he seemed properly secured at least in some raised seat. 

“Are you a bad driver?” You asked, looking over at your neighbor as he let out a rough scoff. 

“The fu-” He stopped himself, brows scrunching together as he checked the rearview mirror like he remembered his child was still in the car. “What’s that s’pposed to mean?” 

“You missed the stop sign,” you pointed out. “You forgot your seatbelt too.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to like, not remember anything?” He muttered, and for such a big, beefy guy, you thought it was a little silly to hear how defensive he sounded. 

He would’ve made a good guard back in your world. 

Probably not a knight. You doubted that he’d particularly enjoy bending the knee and pledging allegiance to a prince or a king, but you could see him working as a mercenary, maybe for a guild. He’d fit right in. 

Most people sucked up to you back then only to gain something. Would he have been like that too? Or would he treat you how he did now? 

At the next stop sign, he actually rolled to a stop, lips pressed together in a thin line as he clicked his seatbelt into the buckle. 

And despite yourself, you couldn’t help but smile at how he adjusted his behavior, glancing out the window with still-present wonder at how well this was all going.

You had your own place. A job that didn’t feel like it was draining your soul dry. A coworker you had a crush on. Neighbors who you were starting to build the foundation for friendship with. A settlement coming soon that would help take care of you. 

Even if someone swooped in and offered to return you to your old life, you doubted you would want to take it. 

Especially when you had a guy like him to bring all your groceries up the stairs for you, holding the door open for them as your purse slipped down from your shoulder to the crook of your elbow. 

“That was fun,” you chirped, beaming proudly as he placed the bags down on the counter for you. You scampered over, peeking inside your bags as you looked back to where his kid was standing behind him, puffing out his chest as you pulled out the chocolate bar and held it out for him. “This was the one you were looking at, right?” 

“Yeah,” he muttered, shyly taking it from you. 

A far cry from the tough kid he was trying to seem like when it was just the two of you. 

“Do you think you could watch him for a couple hours on Saturday morning?” He asked, cocking his head to the side. 

“Like, actually a couple hours? Or all day?” You asked, brow scrunching up as you debated it. Unable to completely discard the pesky habit of helping as much as you could from your previous life as you found it incredibly hard to just say no. 

Part of you deflated a little as it struck you that maybe he was simply being kinder to you just to score a convenient babysitter. 

“Just a couple hours,” he muttered, ruffling his hair as he looked down at his son’s grouchy glare. He pulled out a key from his pocket next, putting it in his hand before nodding in the direction of their apartment. “Start bringing our stuff in, kid.” 

“No,” he dryly replied, turning on his heel and walking out of your place anyway. 

“Little asshole never listens,” he muttered under his breath once you both heard the slam of the apartment door through the thin walls, confirming that he’d made it inside. 

“He seems to take after you,” you commented, and he actually chuckled. 

It wasn’t a terrible sound. 

Surprisingly warm, actually. 

“Usually the old lady downstairs watches him, but she’s got a date or somethin’,” he added, and you just nodded along with a bored hum. 

“Or something?” You joked, suspecting it was just an excuse for him to get you to watch his kid instead. That was the same way he framed it last time too, all vague without offering a real explanation. 

You walked away from him, rounding the counter to start sorting through what you’d gotten, grabbing a container of yogurt to put up in the fridge when you turned around, and he was right there. 

His hands on the counter, centimeters from your waist as he looked down at you. He looked a lot taller like this, or maybe it was more of how confidently he carried himself, a cocky grin curling up on his lips as his dark green eyes glinted from your dim overheard lights. 

“I can treat you afterwards,” he offered, his voice low as he…leered at you? 

No, you supposed that wasn’t quite correct. You suspected he was flirting, but you weren’t sure what his intentions truly were. Just an easy lay from the girl next door? 

A mother figure for the son he was so obviously struggling to care for? 

You didn’t really have much interest in either. 

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, chewing your cheek as a twinge of pity pulsed through you for the man in front of you. 

You had experience with lost souls before. People who were struggling, not even knowing they were seeking guidance until you stepped in. 

Perhaps you didn’t know him that well yet, but you couldn’t convince yourself to fully reject him when that annoying saintly voice in the back of your head suggested that you could save him from himself. 

“I guess,” you reluctantly agreed with a sigh, shoulders slumping as you suspiciously met his stare. “But just for some ice cream.” 

His son would enjoy that, wouldn’t he? 

“You like sweet stuff?” He asked, his palms sliding an inch, maybe two closer to your waist, like he was trying to make you think about what it would be like for him to hold you there. 

It was a nice try. 

But you weren’t biting the bait. 

“I like ice cream,” you shrugged, even though you had never actually tried it. But it looked good on tv shows. Like the sort of thing everyone liked. 

“What else do you like?” It sounded slightly sarcastic, but his stare made it seem sincere. The way his dark brows drew together, how his mouth parted and pulled as he spoke slowly, looking down at you like he could see through the shell you were in. 

“I don’t know yet,” you answered honestly this time. “Guess I’m still figuring it out.” 

And even if he hadn’t meant it that seriously, you were still thinking about what he asked days later. Scribbling down all the things you were discovering you enjoyed in your nifty little notes app as the days went on. 

From all the different new flavors of foods you tried to the way you began waking up to messages from your coworker confirming what time he’d arrive to pick you up. 

The rest of your work week quickly muddled together, a flurry of new tasks to learn, emails sent and meetings attended as you traded your tight button-up for slightly more appropriate office attire after a company-wide memo was sent out about their dress code. Your coworker awkwardly offered a pat on your shoulder and muttered assurances that it probably wasn’t about you, but you knew he was just trying to make you feel better. 

You didn’t mind it. 

There were occasional notes left on your desk, coincidentally appearing every time you had to run to the bathroom or take a trip to the copy machine. They were sweet, just short little lines about hoping you were having a good day or complimenting the way you wore your hair. 

Never signed. Just placed carefully on the edge of your desk.

You asked again if he’d seen who left it there, but he just admitted he hadn’t been paying that much attention to people passing by. And the rest of the times when you discovered them, he wasn’t at his desk either, off helping someone else or fixing some other problem. 

That was just the kind of worker he was. 

Competent. Collected. 

And most importantly, considerate.  

You liked the way he looked out for you. You liked listening to him explain things to you. Liked how softly he spoke and how carefully he chose his words to not make you feel stupid for not ‘remembering’ anything. 

Most of all, you just really, truly liked him. 

Who wouldn’t? 

You had begun packing your own lunches, cutting sandwiches and arranging sides in a cute tray you found in one of your cabinets – and today, you’d brought two. 

He didn’t really eat much there, usually just grabbing a few things out of the vending machine in the breakroom and sipping that bitter black coffee that still had the grounds in it. Rarely taking a proper lunch break, mostly just staying at his desk while everyone else dipped out, typing away on his keyboard or sneaking his phone out for a few minutes. 

Today wasn’t different. 

You watched him move the mouse around, the reflection from the screen glinting in his dark eyes as you chewed your lip and pulled the extra lunch from your bag. 

“Not going out for lunch?” You tentatively asked, a funny flicker of nervousness curling inside of you. You still weren’t used to feeling like…this. 

All fluttery. Mushy. 

“Nah,” he muttered softly, his focus still on whatever he was working on. “Are you?” 

“I brought food,” you said, waiting for him to look over to see that you had a second one for him. And when he didn’t, you were clearing your throat to continue. “I made you some.” 

That caught his attention. 

His head snapping towards where you were sitting and holding it out, both of you just staring at each other for a few seconds as his eyes flickered from the box in your hands up to your face then back down. 

“You didn’t need to,” he eventually said, although his hand was reaching out despite his protest. 

“Yeah, I wanted to though,” you muttered, wondering whether it was coming out weird or totally normal. Putting on your most casual smile as you chirped, “Just a little thank you for being the best.” 

For driving you and helping you and not just leaving you to struggle and drown. 

His face flushed, color rising to his cheeks as he hung his head down lower, letting his bangs fall forward to hide his expression before his fingers clasped the corner, taking it before you could add anything else to embarrass him. 

“I, um, thanks,” he muttered, turning his chair as you tried to peek at his side profile. 

“If you don’t like it, I could try to make something else or-” 

“I’m sure I’ll love it,” he half-coughed, popping it open and looking at the cutely-arranged food you prepared this morning. “Thank you.” 

“What are you doing this weekend?” You perked up when he took the first bite, taking the opportunity to casually talk, watching the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed and wiped the corner of his mouth before looking back at you. 

“Watching my little brother,” he mumbled, his eyes crinkling with a fondness just speaking of him that you appreciated. 

“How old is he?” You asked, genuinely interested as you peeled open your own box, having a hard time keeping your stare off of him. 

There was a subtle magnetism to him, something discreet that just kept drawing you in effortlessly, keeping your attention glued to him without you even realizing it. 

“He just turned seven,” he answered, and your mouth curled up into a bright smile you couldn’t help. A new plan hatching as you thought of a new way to use your neighbor the way he was using you. 

“I’m actually babysitting my neighbor’s kid Saturday, and I think he’s seven,” you explained, scooting your chair closer as you spoke, tampering down your excited tone. “If you’re free, maybe we could do, like, a playdate.” 

“Yeah?” His brows arched up, and for a guy that didn’t really grin much, you detected the faint hint of a smile on his face. 

“We could go to the park, or a playground,” You suggested, cocking your head to the side. 

“Sure,” he nodded, your heart soaring as you held back a big smile. 

Wasn’t it basically a date for the two of you too? 

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