#and ive been shaming quiet

[inkyquince]

anyway, Miguel O Hara

content warning. spoiiiiliessssss, stalker and creep miguel o hara, extremely dubious at all times, invasion of the grandes tetas, strong scent kink, rough handling, nsfw but not written sex because its 1am and im sleepy and october is showing me ds2 sims 2 gameplay and i feel myself going insane. oh yeah, and, big ole size kink.

spoilers for the movie under the cut, but yknow its horny

So, canon Miguel sees another version of himself get fucking shot, right? Immediately slips through to prevent a canon event with his daughter, right? Takes over the old Miguel's life. Born to be a single mother, forced to beef with a teenager right?

Well, what if he saw something else in his other life?

He's broken and he's lonely here, but... He has a kid... And he has a partner. And it's someone he knows. Married to a distant friend in this life, but you're his in another one. The one where he's happy, with his kid.

It's hard, tearing his eyes away from what should be. What he should have, carrying his baby in one arm and the other around your waist. His other self looks so happy, so content, so fucking free. Unlike him in his entirety, where he's alone, against the world.

Not only does he become obsessed with this alternative world, he gets stranger and stranger around you. He knows in another life, you lead him into happiness, into being a father. Miguel is usually quiet and stoic, but his presence starts being almost oppressive around you. He seems to stare all the time, his broad, lithe fingers tapping along his muscular arm. Intense and quiet, with something brewing in his deep, dark eyes. He tries to talk more to you, even try to see you away from your spouse, but you never start to look at him like you do in the other dimension. Warm and soft and longing. It starts to irk him, something growing in his stomach. You're fucking his, in another life, yeah, but you're his. But he can't do anything. You're not his. So it builds in his gut.

There's some part of him that believes he can still get this happiness in this world. He can still be who he was meant to be. Miguel spends some evenings climbing the walls to look into your apartment windows, to catch you showering or changing. He doesn't even need to break the window to slip in, the second you leave through the door. A pair of your underwear in his hand, maybe a venture into the bathroom to sniff at your shower wash. Pick up your toothbrush, just to rest it on his tongue. He sits on your side of the bed and rests his broad hand on your pillow, skimming over it, as it to help him imagine stroking your hair as you awaken in the morning.

This isn't what a hero does. He knows that. He knows that Spiderman doesn't enjoy towering over you when the group hangs out, drinking in the size difference. Loves the little expression you look up at him with, like a doe in the headlights. He catches himself dragging a tongue over his canine was he passed behind you, ducking down just enough to catch the scent from your neck.

A hero doesn't follow you when you go out at night. Watches you from outside your window. Doesn't think about how it would be okay if your spouse bled out in the streets one night, and he'd be by your side in minutes.

Each time it all feels too much, he checks over with his other self. Laughing with his daughter jumping into his arms. His other self's hand on your knee as you sit next to him on the couch with a yawn. The way it slowly traces over your thigh as he lean over to give him a kiss.

The feeling builds even more.

Then, the day happens. He watches himself get shot, and he leaves his other life behind. Steps through and becomes someone new.

That night, your husband comes home. Miguel seems to walk straight past you to go to your daughter's room. You were surprised, but gave it no thought as you continued to make him some empanadas, rain lashing against the window.

Miguel hadn't wanted to look at you, not yet. Needed to look at his daughter, needed to take a moment. He kneeled down, by her tiny bed, stroking slowly against her hair as she breathed softly. She slept like there was no pain in the world, no loss... And thanks to him, she wouldn't wake up to her father being dead. Gone. Unable to tuck her into bed anymore. So he just tugged the blanket up to her chin and stood slowly. Leaving the room, he paused in the doorframe, giving his daughter a soft look before glancing towards the kitchen again. Not yet. Not just yet. He needs to make sure.

Turning on his heel, Miguel headed deeper into the flat, looking around until he found the master bedroom. Spick and span, but homey. Unlike his old bedroom. Pictures on the walls. Things on both bedside tables. A blanket laid over the duvet. His dark eyes turned towards the closet, and slowly opened the door, exhaling softly. Your clothes. Next to his clothes. His fingers dragged along the fabric, rubbing it between his forefinger and thumb.

A shaky sigh left Miguel's lips as he gripped the garment tightly, almost ripping it. Shoving the item close to his face, he inhaled deeply, almost tasting your scent on his tongue. It's you. It's no one else. It's you and in this world, you're with him. No one else.

Miguel's clawed hands moved on their own accord as they yanked open the drawers below the hanging clothes, finding socks, bras and... Underwear. Few pairs of his, few pairs of yours. Snatching yours up, he crushed them against his face again, inhaling with his lips parted. He got a dizzying head rush. His eyes snagged on the laundry basket, exhaling loud and slow as he smelled the scent of you and detergent from your clean underwear.

He'll get a proper taste of you if he rooted around in there instead-

"Miguel!" He froze up and immediately stuffed your underwear into his pocket, as if he was a thief instead of your husband, and very entitled them. "Food!"

He dragged his tongue over his lips and stalked from the bedroom.

Miguel was acting strange when he got back from checking on your daughter, his darkened eyes drinking you in as you served up his plate first.

"Hungry?" You gave him a soft smile. "She ate earlier at her friend's house, don't worry."

He wasn't worried. He should be. It's one of those things he'll learn to do, as a new father. But for now, he just walks closer, dragging his broad palm over the counter. His fingers twitch as the distance between you two become smaller and smaller. Soon enough, he's at your back, with his hands twitching before settling on your hips. You hummed as he drew you closer to his towering body, lolling your head back to rest against his shoulder (against, not on his shoulder, Miguel was too tall for that).

Your lips were right there. Perfect and soft and unbitten.

He should change that.

Miguel slowly lowered his head to brush his lips against yours, slowly exhaling as he did so. You gave a similiar sigh and leaned into the kiss, which remained sweet and soft, until you teasingly gave his bottom lip a nip.

The feeling in his gut burst.

He ripped his lips away, just to grip your hips tighter and spin you around. You blinked up at him, surprised by the sudden movement, but couldn't say anything before his tongue was snaking back inside of your mouth, licking at your teeth before forcibly pressing down on your tongue. You could feel his hard cock through his trousers, digging into your stomach as he manhandled you.

"Mig-" You pulled away to breath but he quickly covered your lips with his again, desperation rolling off of him.

"Solo callate." He hissed against your mouth, sharp canines digging into your bottom lip. "Por favor, déjame tenerte primero. Si me amas, déjame usarte."

You couldn't even reply when he shoved you down on the kitchen counter, sending the plates crashing down to the floor. It was like you were immobalised, stunned. Miguel was never rough with you, not really. He was always too aware of how big he was compared to you. But all that seemed to have been tossed out the window.

Your husband roughly yanked your legs apart, breathing low and heavy. Lowering one of his hands slowly, he gave your crotch a squeeze, as his cock began to tent the front of his trousers.

"Quieres que te toque aquí? Te gusta?" Miguel whispered, pressing his forehead against yours, slowly squeezing your crotch, his sharp teeth coming in as you struggled not to moan at his ministrations.

He was scaring you enough for you to try and pull away, but he was too fucking big. He encompassed you. Totally and wholly. Miguel's eyes were two obsidian stones, pupils blown wide and staring down at you with an endless hunger that wasn't there before. He leaned down again and you just pressed your face to the side, avoiding his lips connecting with yours, instead pressing against your cheek.

With a low, almost animalistic snarl, his fingers dug into your jaw and wrenched your head back to stare into your eyes.

"You will let me have you. You cannot take this from me. Not now." You struggled to comprehend what he meant, but he took your silence in stride and pressed his tongue back into your mouth with a low groan.

You cannot stop this, Miguel thought, everything becoming hazy as he felt desire roll over him.You can't make him stop. Not when he finally has you.

rough translations (remember, im using my high school level knowledge, so the grammar is fuck):

"Solo callate. Por favor, déjame tenerte primero. Si me amas, déjame usarte." - "Just shut up. Please let me have you first. If you love me, let me use you."

"Quieres que te toque aquí? Te gusta?"- "Do you want me to touch you here? Do you like it?"

[rainbowbeanstyles]

if dan and phil live streamed i'd watch them for hours

[lottieurl]

trying not to get hyped about [redacted] just in case something doesn't work out but if it does my life could get sooooo much better everyone join hands in a prayer circle

[spidersunny]

i kinda should talk about bpd symptoms with a professional at some point so that i can adopt healthier thought patterns and not end up in a terrible headspace every time i am alone thinking for too long but also the thought of TALKING about SYMPTOMS with a PROFESSIONAL makes me want to blow up! i’ll get there though

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[ronearoundblindly]

Big Pharma

Steve Rogers x doctor!Reader

Written for @stargazingfangirl18's Birthday Bonenanza--HAPPY BDAY, SIRI!--using the scenario prompt ~quick, frantic, secret sex in an almost public place + babe's hand over your mouth to keep you quiet~ and the dialogue prompt "goddamnit, will you just f***ing let me do this for you?" with free use kink for good measure. Why not?

Summary: The extreme drug cocktail you devise to save Steve Rogers has one major side effect.

Warnings for smut 🥴, sorta dub-con because it's like sex pollen, F E E L S, Steve being the most chivalrous gentleman while railing you (do it for your country, babes 🫡), completely unintentional dirty talk from Steve but 😮‍💨 we'll allow it, Tony being Tony, and--as always-- terrible puns. (There are no mentions of any medical instruments, except an IV, which is not used.) MINORS DNI. This is a mature gift work; see my Light Masterlist for all-age fanfic that is fine for minors. WC 2k

The constant photoflash burns into your retinas obnoxiously, and you’re not even the subject of the paparazzi.

Captain America is alive—all thanks to you—though he could easily have been six-feet under by now. The mysterious infection was so bad and spread so far, the drug regimen you administered constitutes one of the Avengers’ biggest Hail Marys to date, but it’s working. That’s all that matters…to the world. Behind the scenes is a different story.

As Captain Rogers turns to the next hand he must shake, his sharp blue eyes find you, twinged with a familiar fear.

This stupid event scheduled by Stark to boost morale, to show Cap is just fine and back in fighting form, has gone on too long. It’s happening again.

You worried Rogers might not make it when suddenly Stark showed up hours earlier than the initial, planned press conference—because, of course, there’s meet-and-greets, quick interviews, and these damn handshakes. He’s only gone so long between treatments for the last week.

You nod at Cap and make your way in the small crowd back to Stark. You tell him you’ll need a room, somewhere private to put in the IV, and at least thirty minutes to administer the huge dose. Rogers’s super-metabolism makes it necessary to use approximately forty times the prescription average for antibiotics and steroids. In theory, the side effects are well worth his speedy recovery.

Well, the only side effect.

Stark looks horrendously annoyed. “Can’t you just shoot him up with it and be done?” He doesn’t need your lecture repeated though. “Fine, there’s a greenroom thing over there, but you’ve got fifteen minutes at most, you hear me?”

“Twenty-five, Mr. Stark. He’s not a water balloon.”

“Twenty or he can wheel the damn thing around with him.”

You gulp in nervousness, but the problem isn’t Stark’s attitude. Rogers isn’t going to like rushing this. He feels shame enough already.

“I’ll make it work,” you assure the stubborn playboy. If he only knew…

“Good. A team player. We value that here.”

You have no fucking idea how ironic that is, you scream internally, but you follow him to a door off a back hallway, a room that shares a wall with the space all those people are gathered, and thank Stark.

“Oh good, he’s heard the dog-whistle of treat time,” Tony quips, and you swivel to see Cap trailing behind you.

He’s already made his excuses to step away, too. It must be bad.

You’re sure to pull out your props of a saline drip and tubing from your bag while Tony can still see, but you drop the act the instant the door clicks shut.

Cap take one step forward to flip the lock, immediately unzipping the fly of his iconic leather suit.

See, the only side effect of the drugs is Rogers gets hard, often, and can’t find relief from his efforts alone. Through trial-and-error, the clear solution has been help—discretely—from the only medical professional allowed around him until his condition improved.

Of course, he fought it. Of course, you wanted to preserve his dignity. Of course, you tried to keep it as perfunctory, methodical, and uninspired as possible, but the thing is, that didn’t last.

The more distant and cold the experience, the faster he became desperate and wanting again, and now you have just twenty minutes to make sure Captain America can hold out for hours.

Steve, you remind yourself. He prefers you not use respectful address when engaging is what he deems entirely disrespectful behavior. 

You need to get him off in essentially no time at all, so you’ve decided: go big or go home.

Bag tossed to the floor, you unbutton your pants and shimmy out of everything from shoes to panties, letting the longer tail of your dress shirt barely cover your modesty.

Steve looks dumbfounded. It’s bad enough he has to run to you for a handy every few hours, but this?

“Doc, no,” he breaths.

“I understand the procedure,” you say calmly, echoing his harrowing consent from that first night he needed you.

Steve’s brow furrows in strain. “We shouldn’t…”

‘We’ are way past ‘shouldn’t,’ buddy.

“Can’t ask you to…“ but he also knows time’s a wasting.

He’s already fisting himself, struggling to be the gentleman he never stopped being, which at the moment is a huge problem because both of you need to get through the day—you without losing your job and him without popping a boner on national television.

It’s your job to break him and break him right now.

“Goddamnit, will you just fucking let me do this for you?”

There’s a flat smack on the door.

“Do whatever the lady wants and then get back out here,” Tony yells from the other side. “Put us all out of our misery,” he ends with a grumble.

That is by far the most helpful thing Stark has said in the last week, so you mouth “see” and begin undoing your blouse from the bottom, giving Steve his first peek of you. His hand speeds along his length, adam’s apple bobbing in concentration.

“Here, I’ll make it easy for you,” you whisper. You walk to the far corner of the room, put your hands up, shirt rising over your bare ass, and face the wall. Your voice is soothing, pleading even. “Just take what you need.”

In some ways, you feel responsible for his predicament. You are the prescribing doctor, he isn’t in a relationship where a partner could assist, and he insists no one else know. He doesn’t deserve to be poked and prodded more than necessary, and you can’t give him any other meds in combination. None of it is his fault same as none of it is yours. You only intended to heal him.

Truthfully though, none of this is just about his release anymore, much as you’d like to dismiss your feelings.

You can’t deny, however, that each time the air gets a little thicker with tension, the body language a little more intimate. Steve has kept his eyes open, clutched your free hand to his chest, rolled his hips open, and thrust up into your fist. The greater the satisfaction of his climax, the longer he retains control.

“When this is over…I swear,” he grits out, getting closer word by word until his deep voice is right by your ear.

He tugs your shirt up to dip his fingers between your legs. “Been smelling you for two days. Can’t do anything until—” Steve growls, feeling how slick you’ve become in anticipation “—you’re ready for me.” 

His concern washes away when two fingers easily breech you to the knuckle and are immediately replaced by the blunt head of his cock dragging between your folds.

You didn’t expect him to give in so fast. You didn’t expect him to have known this aroused you. The idea he might want to continue, to go further, races down your spine, following the opposite path of Steve leaning into you. His forehead presses your occipital as yours presses the wall. The heat of him makes you arch in luxurious proximity.

Steve fucking forward to enter you in one smooth motion makes you forget to be quiet, but before the whole shout of ecstasy escapes, his hand covers your mouth.

“Shhh, Doc,” he breathes at the base of your neck. “Be good for me.”

That only gets you moaning into the seam of his gloves.

His hips start a staccato rhythm, a second of loud friction for each second of silent, fulfilling pressure.

Steve slips his still wet fingers under your shirt and beneath the cup of your bra to swirl a smooth pattern over your nipple. Instead of voicing your approval, you shove yourself back into him faster.

You notice the muffled chatting of Tony and someone else outside while your eyes roll. The slap of your skin against the Cap suit becomes the loudest thing in the room, but that’s not what Steve minds.

He pulls out and spins you around, pausing to see the cream you’ve created at the base of him drip to the carpet below.

Deep sea eyes meet yours through golden lashes.

“If I can’t hear you…” Steve hoists you up to his waist, threading one arm through the bend in your knee, spreading you wide and diving in swiftly.

Your body curls forward automatically to grasp at him and smother yourself in the leather of his shoulder pad. This pace is much faster, purposeful, utterly unravelling you. The position delivers more range of motion, all of the buildup and less of the noise, with the added benefit of his tool belt nudging your clit repeatedly.

Tony pounds on the door. “‘Bout done in there, guys? Let’s go.” How apt, the unknowing jester.

Steve pants, open-mouthed, against your temple.

You smile but can’t stop your own ruin.

A groan gets buried in your disheveled hair. “Are you…close?” His hips snap brutally. “Are you—“ he sounds wrecked “—you gonna…come on my—uungh.”

You tip over the edge, clutching him tight and fluttering for him in every way. The detonation of your orgasm burns red behind your eyelids like camera flashes, a dirty snapshot for you alone.

“Mercy,” Steve begs, gripping your ass to rut into you, desperate to join. His neck tenses as he spills inside you, pulse throbbing in time with his cock. 

He leans against you and the wall, his steady weight stilling your shaky legs. Slowly, your feet are guided to the floor and Steve steps away to wipe away any evidence of his ‘therapeutic treatment.’ His breathing settles much faster than yours, and by the time he’s tucked back in with his suit righted, you’re simply sliding down the wall to catch up.

He hurries over to the small vanity and mini fridge—usually ‘guests’ for speaking (or interrogating) wait here—to bring you supplies.

A box of tissues is set by your side.

“So…” he hands you a bottle of water “…maybe…dinner tonight?” 

You set the water down in favor of cleaning yourself, glancing up to offer a reassuring dismissal. “This morning was your last dose,” you remind him. “It should be over soon.”

Steve may not need this anymore, may never need you again, but he doesn’t miss a single beat.

“I’d like—I want to take you some place nice, but…” He chugs his whole water then quickly unclasps the glove on his left hand, rolling up his sleeve, veins jumping over a thick forearm.

“I don’t know what food you enjoy.”

Arguably, he knows a few other things that you enjoy.

There’s another impatient bang at the door.

“I—“ Your heart soars with the soft sincerity of his face, no trace of fear left behind, no hesitation. “I’m gonna need a minute.”

Steve stands, smoothing a hand over his hair. “I’ll lock it behind me…and, um, thank you, Doc.”

It’s the first time he hasn’t apologized this whole week.

“You’re welcome, sir.”

Steve flashes you a dopey smile and shakes his head. “See you out there,” he chuckles.

You can’t be seen when the door opens just enough for Steve to step out, but he makes a show of rolling the suit’s sleeve back down like he really did have an IV infusion, selling the lie like a pro. He keeps Tony talking while shutting you back into your debauched bubble.

Through the wall, you still hear “could you have gone any slower?” followed by a curt, “yes,” and have to stifle a laugh.

“What’d you do, blow a vein?”

You’re picturing an incredibly ironic look on Captain Rogers’ face.

“Just be grateful she puts up with us, Tony…” and their voices disappear down the hall.

His treatment may be finished, but Steve wants you to stick around. He wants you.

Would having dinner with that man really be so terrible? No. Not at all. Even the ‘worst’ of this situation has been a great fucking experience. You don’t want to give that up yet.

It seems you’re both addicted now.

[Main Masterlist; Steve Rogers One-Shots; Ko-Fi]

[moonstruckme]

Heyyyy so i was hoping maybe you could write some james or poly marauders x fem reader with really intense ocd and compulsions? Ive just been struggling lately and i feel like the boys might help. If not its totally fine i understand certain things are hard to write! Youre doing great! Much love 🩷

Hi, thank you for requesting angel!

cw: depictions of ocd, specifically hand washing compulsions and obsessive thoughts/seeking reassurance, I know ocd is different for every person and I'm not sure what constitutes "intense" for you or anyone else but I based this on some of the experiences of someone I know with ocd so I hope it's alright <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

“You’re getting hands like an old woman’s,” Sirius teases, taking his time as he smooths lotion into the crevices of your palm and the spaces between your fingers. You’re facing each other on the couch, your legs crossed underneath you while Remus reads in the armchair beside. “You’re going to be looking like my old bird soon.”

“Mean,” you murmur teasingly, doing your best to ignore the growing anxiety in your chest. 

“I’ve never said I didn’t like older women,” he hums. You laugh, and Sirius grins, his goal achieved. “You’re still gorgeous, all of you.” 

You want to be flattered, but your heart twinges in distress when he lifts your moisturized fingers to his mouth, kissing your knuckles. 

“What?” Sirius asks, though you can tell by his face that he has a sense of what you’re thinking—that you know, you know, you’ve only just washed your hands, but you’re terrified now he’s going to catch something because of you. “I can kiss my girl, can’t I?” He keeps his voice light, but his eyes are soft. “Can I?”

You nod, shoving the worst of your worries down as Sirius leans closer, pressing a pillowy soft kiss to your lips. 

“Everything’s just fine,” he murmurs. “I love you, you know that?” 

You try to let your thoughts go all soft and melty, but they keep solidifying, crystal clear and insistent and at the very front of your consciousness. 

“I love you, too,” you tell him. “Um, Sirius?” 

“Yeah, sweetness.” 

“Did you wash your hands when you came home yesterday?” 

Sirius hesitates. 

You hear a quiet rustling, and look over to see Remus lowering his book. “Dove,” he says, “we agreed we’d only reassure you the first time you asked. Sirius already answered your question yesterday.” 

“I know.” You look down at your hands. “Sorry, I’m just not sure if I’m remembering it right. You did, right?” 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Remus says gently, again avoiding giving you an answer. “We just don’t want to make things worse for you.” 

You push out a breath. “Yeah. I’m sorry,” you tell Sirius, “I trust you.” 

The tension melts from his expression. He tsks at you, bumping your knee with his. “Would you stop that? What’d he just say?” Your lips give a little tug, and Sirius gives you a soft look. “I know you do, gorgeous. It’s not really you talking, is it?” 

He means your disorder. Sirius likes to talk about it the same way he talks about Remus’ pain, as though they’re things separate from you that just like to loiter around and bully his loved ones. It’s comforting, knowing he never holds your compulsions against you because he doesn’t think of them as you at all. You try to give him a better smile, but Sirius sees right through it. Gray eyes narrow on yours. 

“What is it?” 

“I feel like I need to wash them again,” you confess. 

He frowns, lips pulling to one side. “You don’t, though, baby.” 

“I know,” you say, agonized. 

“Try not to, okay?” 

“It’s hurting you to do it so often, sweetheart,” Remus reasons. “Don’t your hands feel raw?” 

“Yeah,” you murmur. But the feeling of griminess is worse. You tuck your lip between your teeth, face hot with shame and emotion. 

“Take a breath.” Remus’ voice is soothing. “We’re all okay, aren’t we? Everything’s going to be fine.” 

“How do you know?” you ask, your frustration with yourself spilling over into frustration with your boyfriends. 

“Hey.” Sirius’ tone isn’t chastising but imploring. He smooths his hands over yours, and you manage not to pull them away for fear of contaminating him. “What if we have a hug instead, yeah?” 

You take the offer, feeling conflicted and all wrong but desperate for comfort. You’re extremely conscious of his hands where they come to rest on your lower and mid back and yours so near his face where your arms are wrapped around his neck, but Sirius somehow knows what you need, squeezing you tight until the worst of your worries squish out of you. They’re eclipsed by the feeling of being cared for.

“I know, sweetheart,” he hums. “I know this is hard for you, but we’re only trying to help. You know we love you, right?” 

You breathe out. “Yeah.” 

Sirius gives you a little squeeze, teasing now. “You sure? It doesn’t feel like you do. Remus, do you think she gets it?” 

“I think she might know that we love her,” Remus says placidly, turning his page, “but likely not how much.” 

“Mm. Hear that?” One hand sneaks to your side, and the next squeeze makes you gasp out a laugh, ticklish. “You don’t get it.” 

“No, I do! I do!” 

“S’not your fault, dove.” Remus is watching you from the corner of his eye, smiling faintly. “It’s more love than most people could conceptualize.” 

“Oh.” You’re giggling now. “So you guys are just extra special? I love you way more than—ah!”

“Cruel, unfounded claims,” Sirius accuses, digging his fingers into your side. 

You reach for his hand, but you’re too weak with laughter to wrestle it away. “You don’t even know what I was going to say!”

“Couldn’t let you finish,” he says simply. “Sounded like the beginnings of blasphemy.” 

“Good lord,” says James. You didn’t hear him come in, but he’s sweaty and breathing hard from having just finished his run. “By the screaming coming from in here I thought we were under attack.” 

“What would you have done if we were?” Remus asks curiously. 

“Well, I…I was running in here to see what happened. I’d have fought them off, I suppose.” 

Remus smiles down at his book, and Sirius pats James’ midsection fondly. “Good thing it’s never come to that, darling.” 

James stares at him. “And how am I meant to take that?” 

“I think you’d do very well in a fight, Jamie,” you say, taking the opportunity to slip out of Sirius’ grasp. 

James turns to you, a smile spreading over his face. “I think so, too. Thanks, lovie.” He bends towards you. You think to take his face in your hands, but remember your fears at the last second, bringing them down to your sides. If any of the boys notice, they don’t mention. 

“Have they victimized you, my lovely girl?” James asks between kisses. “No one’s ever as nice to you when I’m gone, are they?” 

“I resent that.” Sirius pokes your side, making you giggle and bend away from him. “Ever thought that maybe she likes when I’m not nice to her?” 

“Not really, no,” says James, flopping down onto the couch. 

You’re holding your hands away from you, hesitant to touch the couch or your skin or anything until you feel like they’re clean. Sirius really had managed to distract you for a while, but now your anxiety is back in full force, your heart in your throat and dread a swirling mass in your gut. 

When you look up, Remus is watching you. 

“Maybe we should get out of the house,” he suggests. “We could go for a walk. Does that sound okay, sweetheart?” 

“Um…” It makes your heartbeat ratchet just to think about, the barrier of time and physical space between you and the next time you’ll actually be able to wash your hands. But you know that’s the point. 

“That’s a great idea.” James catches on quickly, more than familiar with your compulsions. He takes your hand in his easily, encouraging you up from the couch. “It’s a beautiful day out. Lots of leaves on the ground, you’ll love it.” 

You smile. You think that you must be easy to please, because leaves to crunch underneath your shoes does make the idea of a walk sound more enticing. 

“But you only just got in,” you say. 

“I could use a cooldown,” James says easily. “I came in here thinking my sweethearts were under attack, my heart rate hasn’t had a chance to come down.” 

“I feel like it’s important to note,” says Sirius, grabbing his scarf and your hat from the coat closet, “that there were two other men here in the house when we were under this alleged attack. You weren’t our only hope.” 

“I feel like it’s important to note that that’s sexist,” you say.

“Very,” James agrees, swiping your hat from Sirius and putting it on for you. “I’d think our best defenders would be the ones who spend the most time working out.” 

“Mm. Not Sirius, then.” 

“Certainly not.” 

A hand fists in the back of your shirt, and you choke on a gasp as Sirius yanks you back to his side. He wraps an arm securely around your waist. “Remus,” he says smoothly, “did y/n look like she was having a very easy time fighting me off a couple of minutes ago?” 

“I’m staying out of this one,” Remus says as he shrugs on his coat, but his tongue is poking into his cheek. You find you can’t help smiling, either.

[betterthana-six]

| MUSIC TO MY EARS - [ABBY ANDERSON] - CHAPTER ONE |

PAIRINGS: stoic!rugby player abby x fem!reader

SUMMARY: you and your new(ish) roommate, Abby Anderson, have gotten into an argument. about what? unclear at the moment. but it's got Abby in a fit of shame. until late one night she hears you outside with someone whose voice she doesn't recognize and listens in.

WARNINGS: this is my first story ive ever published here. please be kind! i am fragile lol. this is definitely a slow burn, but lots of pining, yearning, and, yes, smut to come. TRUST. so, mdni. there are a lot of flashbacks between now and when they met so we get the full story eventually. this is more of a light hearted story but it does deal with coming to terms with sexuality (and who best to help you along that journey but rugby playing and stoic Abby Anderson?). anyways, i hope that the five people who might read this like it. I've proofread but, like, nobody's perfect. if people like this and want it as a series, ill make a more personalized playlist for it.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Music To My Ears: Chapter 1

Abby is in your dorm room stretched out in bed with a book in her hands when she hears voices coming from outside. She watches the shadows dance in the light that extends under the door and into the room. It’s late. Abby hasn’t seen you all day. 

She tries to go back to reading, but her eyes glaze over the words almost immediately. Someone is leaning on the door, off and on making the hinge jingle in a way that is most times ignorable. Drunk students came through all the time, lingering in the hallways and leaning on the doors. But it isn’t ignorable now, not for Abby. 

The voices are muffled. They sound like they’re… giggling. One giggle is definitely yours. Abby could spot it from a mile away. The other’s is unfamiliar. Abby’s been reading the same passage over and over again and doesn’t even realize it.

It goes quiet outside and this time Abby closes the book, suddenly over-aware of her surroundings. She looks up at the reading light hanging from the headboard and instinctively switches it off. But she doesn’t want it to look like she turned it off because of them? She turns it on again without thinking and turns it off again, quickly entertaining the idea of faking sleep and listening in. With her hand on the switch Abby stops, realizing that they might start noticing the light going on and off and think she’s trying to signal something. She shakes her head at herself with embarrassment. She covers her face with both her hands. So stupid… she says under her breath. 

It’s been quiet for so long out there. But the shadows are still there. Abby lays down in bed and forfeits to her desire to eavesdrop. As icky as it makes her feel.

Your voice comes through finally. 

“What?” You ask, innocently.

“Don’t look at me like that.” An unfamiliar voice chimes in. It’s a woman’s voice. Abby couldn’t tell if she was feigning some sort of annoyance with you or if it was genuine.

“Like what?” 

A silence passes.

You sigh loudly. “Well, what’d you think of what I sent you? That wasn’t a cheap effort, you know. Full body mirror in the ladies’ locker room. Not too shabby.”

“You have to stop…” The other voice says, with a playful twinge that makes Abby’s curiosity perk up like dog ears. 

“Stop what? I can’t send you photos?” Your voice tells Abby you were in some daze, in the same way she could sometimes hear singers smile through their lyrics. Just thinking about you out there in the hall hanging onto the door and onto each of her words, shining your big green eyes at her. It sends a shiver down Abby’s spine.

“Not anymore,” the stranger says casually. “It was really good seeing you tonight but I have a boyfriend, remember? And I’ve told him about…us. High school. He knows… is the thing. He thinks I’m studying for midterms right now.” 

You laugh at that. In a sweet way, though. “Right,” you say and you sigh, seemingly unaffected by the reminder. “Jeremy?”

“Jeremiah,” the woman corrects.

“God, that’s even worse.” 

Abby snorts, basically smashing her lips shut with her hand, and then rages at herself silently in the dark for fear they may have heard her.

 “Did you… even look at them?” you ask. God, are you drunk? Abby has now given up on the book entirely, laying up on one elbow to stare at the door, imagining the conversation visually. 

A laugh from the woman. Mumbling now, feigning sheepishness, “Yeah.”

“And?”

“And…I think…about them, about you. Of course.” Abby’s hands are clasped together, tightening around one another at this.

“Yeah…?” you draw out the stranger’s words seductively with your own. Abby imagines you in the long, maroon dress you typically wear for special occasions. Was this a special occasion? She nearly has the impulse to check your closet just to be sure, but that’s crazy and much more invasive that what she was already doing. Her knuckles are turning white.

“And I think in another universe, maybe. Not this one. I can’t. You know why,” the stranger says sheepishly. “You’re so sweet.” And, in Abby’s imagination, there’s a dainty, gloved hand reaching out to caress your face condescendingly. The illusion entrances her to near paralysis.

A long pause from you. Abby listens hard, completely unable to stop herself from paying close attention now. In the near silence, Abby could sense your breath faltering through the door. Despite how the two of you left things, she didn’t want to see you hurting like that. Say something… Abby thinks.

When Abby hears you speak again, the sweetness in your voice has vanished. She nearly doesn’t recognize the sound. 

“Fuck…” There’s a lump in your throat, Abby could tell just from your voice when you were smiling and, just as easily, she could hear when you were about to burst into tears. “Why… why did you invite me out tonight then?” 

No answer.

“You have a boyfriend…” you continue in a matter-of-factly tone, raising your voice a bit, to Abby’s surprise. “Jeremy…yeah, so you’ve explained. Great guy, great future. So, you have the boyfriend, the good job lined up, you’re almost done with college. Man, you’re doing fucking great.” Abby’s mouth was left agape, her heart cheering with unwarranted pride for you, urging you on to read this stranger to filth. “Why start texting me again?” You ask.

“You’re here,” the woman clarifies indignantly, like it should be obvious. “I wanted to see you. I didn’t know you transf-”

 “That’s not what I’m ask- why’d you ask me out tonight?” You cut her off. “Purely to fuck with me?”

“No…”

“No, what? I’m just- I’ve always just been here at your disposal. Ever since we were teens. Chasing my tail around like a dumb dog, waiting for her master to one day be unashamed to be seen with me.” Abby’s hand travels to her mouth now in delight. She’s smirking like a clown, fully impressed with you. But, you were in tears at this point. Abby knew by now that, only drunk, would you show your tears like that. “Abby was right,” you mutter. Abby almost didn’t hear you.

“I’m gonna go,” the woman said. “It was good seeing you tonight.” It sounded like more of a question than a genuine statement. And then the sound of footsteps, a shadow moving away and then out of sight.

“Yeah. Go, for fuck’s…” You say messily. You were definitely not sober. And then Abby hears your body thud against the door one last time and senses you sliding down to the floor. She hears the tears. Abby instinctively began to get up, feeling the need to see you, talk to you, hold you. 

But she stopped herself. You wouldn’t even talk to her a few hours ago, why would you want her comfort now?

***

At that point in time, you and Abby were seasoned roommates. Well, not seasoned. You guys were in that awkward in-between stage of knowing each other where you’d half-memorized each other's schedules but there wasn’t any synchronicity to your dynamic yet. Changing clothes in the same room was still very touch-and-go.

However, when you first met there was immediate tension. It was winter then, and transferring colleges midway through sophomore year meant knowing absolutely no one. At least, you thought, you would have a roommate. But, when you first met, Abby was so much… harder. And, she was stoic and casual in a way that threw you off entirely.

“Are you looking through my shit?”

“No!” You said stiffly, whipping your head around to catch sight of the figure in the door. But, there you were. You stood fixed on her side of the room, where you just had your eyes deeply focused on the engraved rugby medals hanging on the shelf, her shelf. You were caught red handed and the lie came out of your mouth readily and in a panic. Abby was already smirking. 

“Yes,” you corrected yourself. “Sorry. I don’t know why I lied. But I’m just looking. I’m not going through it, per say, I promise.” 

Abby laughed and rolled her eyes. “Calm down. It’s fine.”

You smile and take five awkward steps over to your side where your bed was just a bare, blue mattress and your luggage rested waiting to be unpacked. It was a stark comparison between our sides of the room even still. Her bed was military neat, with perfectly tucked in covers and a single pillow centered at the head. The medals were all lined up but in a way that didn’t look too showy. Some polaroids were tucked into the creases between her window and the sill. Your suitcases were patterned and scuffed badly on the corners. Littered across them all were stickers you had found from anywhere you could find them. Your clothes made you look avant garde compared to Abby and you had a sudden knot in your stomach that told you to feel self-conscious. 

“They didn’t tell you who was moving in here, did they?” you asked.

“Ah. Typical administration shit. I didn’t even know someone was moving in today,” she explained, throwing her gym bag down onto her bed and then turning to you with an open hand to shake. “Abby.”

You shook her hand, returning her name with yours. You noticed the way Abby looked deeply into your eyes for a long second, too long for a first introduction. And the way she smirked at you while she did it confounded you; it was the same way someone held out their hand to a stray cat. To be fair, that was an accurate analogy. You were clad in winter jackets with a flushed face whereas she was radiating heat, skin almost steaming under her gym clothes. Her hands were rugged, you noticed.

“Well,” Abby said, turning to her bed and unzipping her gym bag. “I’ve been told I’m a good roommate. By no one actually. You’re the first roommate I’ve had since the first half of my freshman year. Uh…I keep to myself. I need quiet most nights because I get up early, so no boyfriends over on weekdays.”

You nodded along when she turned to you and sat on the edge of her bed wearing a slight grimace at that last idea. “But if you do, do me a favor and just text me beforehand. Don’t want to be walking in on any man butt.” You laughed a bit loudly at that. You just shook your head.

“No. That won’t be a problem,” you said. Abby caught your eye suspiciously and cracked a small and crooked smile.

“Okay,” Abby said. She turned back around, grabbed a towel from her drawers, and threw it on the bed. Then, she casually lifted her sweaty wife beater up over her head and it’s only then that you look at Abby long enough to notice her size and shape. She was severe, and you’d been so caught up in meeting her, you didn’t necessarily take in her physical appearance. But now that she faced away you could see the sheer definition of her body, starting at the dimples on her lower back trailing up to her massive shoulders. All of it glistening with a polished coat of sweat.  And the rest… it would take a few more interactions to even comprehend all of her.

She must have sensed the eyes on her back because she turned around. You looked away quickly, trying busy yourself with the things around you, but there was nothing. 

“Sorry,” your cheeks flushed red. But Abby was full frontal, positioned now with her messy hair unbraided, sprawled around her shoulders, grinning at you. She paused for a moment, maintaining eye contact, with only a towel around her waist.

But then she just shrugged, grabbed her toiletries, and said, “Later.”

You watched her leave. Watched her with wide eyes as she opened the door with one hand and used the other one to lazily cover her chest as she headed towards the showers. You even heard her say “sup” to someone on her way.

Alone, you felt the rush of the moment channel directly to your stomach and burst like flames across your face. 

***

That was just the beginning. Abby thinks of it now.

Now, face up on her bed, contemplating her next move, Abby recalls you as you were. She was immediately taken with you, that first day. Your wide eyes and timidity around her. Abby's own stupid, casual arrogance. Obviously, as Abby quickly learned later, that first impression of you was not at all fully representative of the truth. 

Maybe if she had stopped then, stopped the teasing, stopped what she intended to be light, meaningless flirting, Abby wouldn’t be hesitating to open the door. Perhaps she would be opening the door to find you in tears, take your face in her hands and tell you everything she’d been aching to say for three months now.

Abby gets up off her bed and walks to the door. She squeezes the handle, takes a breath, and then turns it slowly.

Comment if you want to be on this story's taglist!

Chapter 2

[bugflies00]

OKAY so what ive been thinking about for ages is ctommy and being soft vs quiet . because i feel like it's one of those things in his fandom characterisation that sparks the most debate and in my opinion theres a huge difference between the two but i keep seeing people mix them together.

ctommy is soft but he's not quiet, and to disregard either of those things is what makes him less believable in fanworks imo

because on one hand, of course he's not quiet, that's the most obvious and i think one of the most commonly accepted qualms that we have with general fan interpretations of him. he doesn't just lie down and take shit, he's always committed to being an annoying shit, he's straight up rude so often, and even just. vocally. man's loud as fuck. i think that's pretty easy to establish .

but then what i find is that sometimes we veer into the other opposite, by completely denying that ctommy is also very soft sometimes. and by this i don't mean he turns into strawberry shortcake or starts being polite or whatever, but it's the fact that he's not just crass and rude. he's very considerate a lot of the time, he just shows it. uh. in his Own Way let's say. he cares for animals so so much, he's always so apologetic when he thinks he's hurt one of them, for fuck's sake he sung to the FLOWERS. he's very soft with nature, with things he's attached to, with things he perceives as weaker than him and needing protection.

the complexity of ctommy and what makes him so hard to grasp is that he's loud, he's brash, he is NOT a perfect quiet victim who suffers in silence, he asks for help, he's rude, he steals stuff, he's annoying as shit; but he's also soft, and incredibly empathetic, and he has no shame in showing that softness for animals or nature or his friends.

ctommy, and this is very much because cctommy himself acts like that a lot, is constantly vacillating between someone with the maturity of a thirteen year old boy who shouts and swears and pretends not to give a shit, and a boy who will stop everything he's doing to look at the sky or a flower or an animal (which does contrast his stereotypical rude teenager persona, because lots of aforementioned thirteen year old boys Would be embarrassed or whatever to do that).

he does BOTH. he's not just quiet and nice and sad and lonely; but he's not just rude and loud and """uncaring""" (if there is one thing ctommy is not i think we can all agree its UNCARING).

and i think this is why a lot of debates around "woobifying" ctommy (who remembers the july 2021 trenches . the butterfly clips.) tend to point any ctommy design that portrays him as soft, cozy, or even leaning into his feminine side as the be-all end-all of reducing his character.

in reality i think that misses the mark a bit because while there IS something to be said for sure about people turning ctommy into Blonde Anime Child #249824 and stripping him of his Very Vibrant character, i don't think that putting him in butterfly clips and skirts erases him in the same way. i think he could very much lean into that kind of thing . as long as he's still flipping off the camera we're all good

TLDR : fans strip ctommy of his loud-and-annoying persona but in avoiding that some forget that he's a character who's not afraid to be soft

[froggibus]

The Three Times You Share A Bed - Leon S Kennedy

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x reader

Genre: fluff, some light angst thrown in towards the end?

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: two times you sleep in leon's bed, and the one time he sleeps in yours

CW: roommate! Leon, kinda friends to lovers?, light angst, abandonment issues, paranoia, fear + insomnia, mentions of zombies, bedsharing, leon has intimacy issues (get therapy challenge)

OMG HAPPY RE4 RELEASE!!! I am SO excited to play once im done work this weekend! Leon looks so damn fine in the gameplay ive seen and i am going FERAL! pls no spoilers for anything new in the game! <3

RE4 remake spoiler free zone!! I have yet to play the remake so there are no spoilers in this!

————

The telltale clicking of a key in the door has you on your feet in seconds, abandoning the plush throw blanket on the couch. Before it even opens, you’re standing on the doormat. You feel a little silly, like a golden retriever waiting for its owner, but the shame is washed away when Leon steps through the door.

It’s been three weeks since you’ve last seen your roommate and best friend, and just as long since you last had company. He raises an eyebrow at the sight of you standing in front of him, the dark circles under his eyes becoming more prominent. 

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” He sighs and drops his backpack on the floor, locking the door behind him.

“How was it?”

You fight the urge to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and inhale his scent, knowing that’s not what friends do. Still, the feeling is there and if he went in for it, you’d reciprocate in a heartbeat.

He opens the fridge and beams at the fully stocked drinks and snacks. He cracks open a can of cider and leans against the counter. “Long,” he admits, “way too long. And my nose is still burning from the smell of rotten flesh.” You crinkle your nose at the thought. Leon’s never been much of a talker and most of his work being classified didn’t help. Whenever something wasn’t top secret, though, you were sure to sit there and listen no matter how horrific the details were.

You settle in on the couch next to the agent, listening to him drone on about a zombie-like creature that had peeling flesh and fifty eyes. You could vividly picture it from his words alone, and the image of the creature sent a shiver up your spine.

Leon talks for hours, spilling every miniscule detail of every horror he encounters. You stay the whole time, nodding along. Leon laughs at the way you scrunch your face in disgust or close your eyes in fear. He hates how cute you are, but he can’t seem to stop telling you stories. After many hours and a few drinks between the two of you, he’s almost run out of stories to tell.

Leon pats your shoulder gently, collecting his cans from where he’d set them on the coffee table. “I need a shower,” he states. “I’ll see you tomorrow, y/n.”

“Go shower. You stink,” you joke and punch him in the ribs.

He feigns injury at your blow, pretending to suck in a breath like you’d really hurt him. He keeps up the facade the whole way to his bedroom, only leaving character when he shuts the door behind him.

It’s only when he’s disappeared that you realize how late it's gotten—and how dark. Even though your shared apartment is on the 19th floor, you can’t help but worry something is going to crawl through your window. You shake the thoughts away and get ready for bed, but every gust of wind and rustling of leaves makes you flinch.

You close your eyes and tug your comforter over your head, hoping that if there is something out there, it won’t know you’re there. You toss and turn for a while longer, staying dead quiet and pushing your fears away.

Finally, you can’t take it anymore. You take a deep breath, throw your comforter off of your shoulders, and sprint to Leon’s room. It’s like your brain is on autopilot—it knows exactly where to go to be safe.

You don’t knock on the door, instead quietly twisting the knob and slipping in through a crack in the door. Leon sits up as soon as your feet touch the wooden floor, eyes snapping towards your silhouette. He’s been a light sleeper ever since Racoon City, waking at the slightest of sounds.

He relaxes at the sight of you but only for a second. He glances at his digital clock, eyes widening at the time. “Y/n? What are you still doing up?”

“I-I couldn’t sleep…I feel like a flesh eating zombie is going to climb through my window and eat me.”

He chuckles. “That would be my fault.” He shuffles over in bed and pulls back the comforter. “You’re more than welcome to stay here for the night.”

You crawl into bed next to him, keeping as much distance between the two of you as possible. You can feel his body heat radiating through the blankets and smell his body wash on his skin. The feeling is new, yet so familiar it eases you instantly.

“Leon?”

He hums in response.

“Is it safer to sleep next to the window or the door? From like, a secret agent standpoint.”

“We’re on the 19th floor so window, but unless it's a hotel room, the door. You would more than likely hear it if they broke down the front door so you’d have more time to get out.”

You think for a second. “Can we switch places?”

“Honestly, y/n,” he laughs dryly, “the safest place to sleep right now is next to me.”

Your face warms at that and you nod, relaxing into his pillows. While you drift off to sleep, Leon watches over you. He knows nothing is going to come for you here, but he did promise to keep you safe, and he’ll keep that promise no matter what.

—

When you get home, you’re in a foul mood. You practically throw the groceries onto the counter before walking to your room and throwing yourself onto your bed. It’s been a long day. All of the stores were so busy you could hardly get through the aisles, and all of the people you encountered were rude.

Leon comes out of his room a few minutes later. Seeing the groceries abandoned on the counter, his first thought is to check on you. He doesn’t check on you, though. Not yet, anyway. He knows you’ll just be more upset if the frozen items melt and the milk sits out all night, so he sets out on putting them away.

After almost an hour of laying in your bed trying to recuperate after the day you’ve had, you’re snapped out of it by a text.

Leon: Come here, I have a surprise for you

You don’t feel like leaving your bed, but you force yourself out of it anyway. It’s not Leon you’re mad at. Leon is probably the only person in the world you don’t hate right now. You knock on his door softly, holding your arms behind your back.

“Come in!” He shouts.

You open the door, shuffling into his room and closing it behind you. Your jaw drops when you see a tray in the middle of his bed piled high with your favorite snacks, drinks and two wine glasses. Leon pats the spot next to him and you’re happy to oblige, relaxing onto the mattress.

“You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

He shrugs, pouring you a glass of wine. “It already seems like you had a bad day, I just wanted to do something to make it a little better for you.”

“Thank you.” He nods in acknowledgement, turning on his tv and handing you the remote. “You can choose the first movie. Just—maybe no zombies?”

You snort at that. Classic Leon, using his corny jokes to make light of even the worst of situations. You settle on an old favorite movie you love, handing the remote back to the blond and switching it for a wine glass.

Between your favorite movie, the delicious wine and your favorite snacks, your spirits are lifted in no time. One movie turns into two, and two turns into three. Soon enough, you’re dozing off in Leon’s bed.

He moves the tray of snacks and the glasses off of the bed to give you more room to sprawl out. Laying down next to you, he watches you sleep. A part of him wishes he could see this every night—the same sight he fantasizes about on even the hardest of missions.

He flicks off the lamp on his side table and settles in. “Good night, cutie,” he mumbles, knowing you’re far too deep in sleep to hear him.

—

You wake up in the middle of the night, moonlight streaming through the window and illuminating Leon’s bedroom. You’re still numb from sleep, your senses dulled just enough that it takes you a minute to realize that something is grabbing you. No, not grabbing—holding. 

You blink a few times. Leon is laying next to you, his chest pressed to your back, his arms around your waist. You can feel the slow beating of his heart and the heat coming off of his skin. He’s so close it overwhelms you, yet it’s all you’ve ever wanted.

You think about slipping away but you know what a light sleeper he is, and you don’t think you could handle it if he woke up and saw how close you were. You close your eyes and try to calm the beating in your heart so you can fall back asleep.

When you wake up again, Leon is gone. Your body feels cold where his once was. You sit up—is he showering? He can’t be, the bathroom door is open. You sit up, letting the blankets fall off of you. You swing your legs over the side of his bed, walking out to the kitchen, but he’s not there either.

Did he leave to go get something? 

You check your phone, expecting to see a text saying he ran out to go get more milk or something, but there’s nothing. You sigh, typing up a message and sending it to him.

Y/N: where’d you go?

You practically jump when your phone lets out a noise, but your heart sinks when you see what it is.

Message Not Delivered. Try Again?

You sigh. That can only mean one thing: he’s on another mission. Typical Leon, disappearing in the middle of the night to go god knows where for god knows how long. The frustration bubbles up in your chest and you feel like hitting something, but you don’t. It’s not worth it.

You try to keep your mind off of his sudden disappearance by throwing yourself into chores. You wash his bedding and make his bed, then wash your own. You sweep and mop the floors and vacuum the carpets. You dust the blinds.

It doesn’t help.

Your mind keeps wandering back to the fact that he left without saying goodbye. That he woke up at some ungodly hour, saw you laying in his arms, got up and left without another word. He didn’t even leave a note. He really cares that little. 

You shake your head and even though the pit in your stomach makes you feel like not eating, you make yourself a sandwich regardless. Seeing the untouched groceries in the fridge just adds to the feeling.

Even though you know he’s not going to get it, you pull out your phone and start typing.

Y/N: do you at least know when you’ll be back?

Message Not Delivered. Try Again?

The message makes you roll your eyes. Leon fucking Kennedy.

—

A week goes by, and then two, and you still hear nothing from your roommate. You send texts here and there, hoping for an answer, but none of them go through. Eventually, you start venting to him through there, too. Expressing how frustrated you are that he didn’t say goodbye, how annoying your feelings are, how sometimes you wish you didn’t know him so you didn’t have to go through this.

It’s a random Sunday night when you’re sitting on the couch, watching trash reality tv and eating snacks. It’s cold in the apartment, but you can’t be bothered to turn on the heat. Only when your arms puff up with goosebumps do you scour the room for a sweater, settling on a random one hanging on the back of a chair.

It’s Leon’s, an old one from the Police Academy. His smell floods your nose when you pull it over your head, and it's so bittersweet you don’t know if you should laugh or cry. You settle back on the couch, but a rustling at the window makes you freeze in your tracks.

It stops for a moment, and you can almost convince yourself you’ve imagined it or it’s a part of the show—until it happens again. You scramble for the remote, pausing it so you can hear better. The noise starts again, and you waste no time in hightailing it to your bedroom and slamming the door behind you.

You flop onto your bed, trying (and failing) to remind yourself that it’s just the wind. That you’re safe here. But it’s hard when it’s late and you’re tired and you’re alone and the only person you feel safe with just abandoned you.

You curl up into a ball, pulling Leon’s sweater over your mouth and inhaling the familiar scent. It’s enough to calm you down, if only for a few moments. If you close your eyes, you can almost trick yourself into thinking he’s there, and for now, that’s good enough.

—

Leon knows he fucked up when he gets back to the country and turns on his phone. Almost fifty messages from you, each one more sad than the last. He wants to slap himself—why couldn’t he just grow a pair and say goodbye? Why did he have to be so noncommittal?

He reads every message on the cab ride back to the apartment, and his heart breaks for you. He didn’t think about how you would drive yourself crazy over him or how worried you must have been. All he thought about was getting the call for the mission in the middle of the night and not wanting to wake you up.

But he didn’t abandon you. He thought about you every day and god—he wishes he could have talked to you. Hearing your voice and seeing your face was enough to make everything better. With the horrors he’s seen lately, all he wants is to be back in that bed with you for one more night.

He’s quiet coming into the apartment, hoping he doesn’t wake you up or scare you. And even though he knows you’re sleeping, he’s still disappointed you’re not waiting at the door for him.

He tosses his backpack into his room and strips off all of his holsters and velcro.  He’s quiet walking down the hallway to your room and even quieter opening the door. He relaxes at the sight of you curled up in a ball. 

You look so cute and so peaceful and—is that his sweater? The sight brings a smile to his face. He closes the door behind him with a soft click, climbing into the bed next to you.

You wake up when the bed dips down and arms wrap around you. You’re so tired you don’t even care who or what it is.

“If you’re gonna kill me, can you at least let me sleep first?” You mumble.

You fully awake as soon as you hear Leon’s laugh.

“You’re back?” You say, and you hate the way your voice cracks. 

You turn around to face him, tired ocean eyes meeting yours. He nods sleepily, “‘m sorry I didn’t say goodbye. It was stupid of me.”

“It’s okay,” and it really is okay. All the resentment you felt melted away at the sight of him. 

“C’mere,” he mumbles. 

You lay your head on his chest, wrapping your arms around him. You can hear his heart rate slow down at the contact. 

“I just—I just need you tonight.” Those are big words coming from the agent, and they leave you completely stunned. He must have seen or done something horrible while he was away for him to be this vulnerable, even with you.

“You can have me tonight.” You try to keep your voice even, “you can have me whenever you need me,”

He kisses the top of your head. “But I always need you.”

“Then I’m always yours.”

Neither of you speak after that, Leon falling into a light sleep. You stay up a while longer, watching the blond boy rest beneath you. He looks so fragile like this, you can’t imagine him fighting off monsters and handling weapons. You kiss his collarbone through his shirt and let yourself fall asleep with him. 

[doctorwhoandfairytaillover]

Loving Arms (4)

Summary: The children of Viserys I from his wife Alicent Hightower had always been lacking in affection from their parents. They simply didn't realize how much until their widowed aunt was brought into their lives. (AU where Alicent has an older sister and her kids get the love that they deserve, takes place some time after the Driftmark event)

Part IV: Changes must be made

|| Loving Arms Masterlist ||

A/N: There were so many ways that I wanted this chapter to go, but I think this was as good as I was going to get it. Please leave a comment and let me know what y'all thought. 😊

BTW: I have tagged everyone that asked, but some weren't working for some reason

For quite some time, Aegon was used to being harshly woken in the morning and dragged to different lessons or things that he absolutely despised attending because it was the expectation. Curtains would be pulled open quickly, further bothering his morning as light would seep into his eyes and making his head pound with pulsing pain from drinking quite a bit the night before.

His mother, grandfather, or perhaps the septa would harshly pull him from his bed, tell him off for his previous behavior and that he was shaming not just himself, but his family by his actions. It was all things that he had heard and experienced more times than he could count.

A routine that he had lived for so many years that he had lost track at what point did it begin.

So it was certainly a complete shock to wake up slowly one morning, the soft feeling of someone playing with his hair was what had stirred his sleep addled mind. His room was still fairly dark, the curtains had not been drawn and there were no servants or other attendants milling about his room. His bleary eyes slowly focused in to see that his lovely muña was the only one in the room.

"Did you sleep well, sweet boy?" she asked softly while combing her fingers through his hair. "I figured that we might try a different way of going about your morning since I heard that you imbibed quite a bit."

She sat on the edge of his bed and had such a tender look of affection as she stared at him that it overwhelmed Aegon to see it. Instead of answering, he hid his face in her skirts and gripped the fabric of her dress between his hands. Kneading the material in his hands and whimpering softly.

There was no reproach from his sweet muña and she shushed him softly, petting his tangled locks.

"Oh Aegon," she whispered. "I am sure that your head hurts, but we must start the day. There is quite a bit that must be done."

He snuggled into her lap and peeked an eye to look at her, "Must I?"

She laughed gently, "Yes, you must."

She turned to the side table by his bed and carefully picked up the teapot that was placed there by the servants to pour some tea into his teacup. "Here, sit up a little."

Begrudgingly Aegon sat up against the headboard of his bed and pushed back his hair away from his face, rubbing at his eyes in exhaustion.

"I made sure to add a bit of honey to your tea this time," she smiled. "I thought a bit of sweetness would be a nice way to start the day before we break fast."

"Thank you," he whispered. He took his light purple teacup with gentle care and blew softly on the steaming liquid, humming in delight when he managed a small sip. "It tastes better, thank you muña."

"You are welcome," she said as she picked up her own teacup and drank her tea silently beside him.

It was quiet.

Aegon wasn't used to soft mornings like this one.

To hear the distant clatter of life outside the walls of the Keep.

The gentle birdsong as they also greeted a new day.

The quiet hums of his muña, whose smile hadn't left despite the fact that he wasn't even ready for his lessons.

Even with his hesitance to become too comfortable, Aegon hoped that he could more mornings like this one.

"Muña?" he called out softly. "It is not that I don't appreciate this change of pace, but what stirred all of this?"

"I heard amongst the grapevine that your mornings were quite the chaotic events" she said gently. "That it was quite the spectacle to be present when the eldest prince was put in his place or so I had heard."

His face burned in shame and he looked at the dregs left at the bottom of his cup. Because even though he appeared aloof and uncaring to others, it was humiliating to go through it.

He just didn't know how to change what he was doing, when every day felt like a burden.

When his limbs felt like lead, his head would hurt from all the letters that would swim on the page, and as if his heart would pound out of his chest as nothing that his tutors said made any sense to him.

"It seemed to me," she said quietly and carefully lifted his chin to look her in the eye. "It seemed that everyone around you had failed to help you. Or was I mistaken?"

Tears pooled in his lavender eyes and shook his head, swallowing the lump that was stuck in his throat.

"I know there will be quite a bit of backlash, but I have relieved all of your current tutors from service and have sent word to a few that we will see if they fare any better" she said. "Would that be alright with you? Trying things a little differently?"

He quickly but carefully set his teacup beside him, practically leaping into her lap and wrapped his arms around her tightly. His sobs wracked his body and made it difficult to speak.

"H - how? H - how is it that y - you can s - see ME?!" he cried. "H - how? When my own m -mother cannot?"

She only held him tighter and rubbed his back softly, "Because I know what it is like to go through life never being seen by those we cry out to the most."

He could only cry.

And she held him in her arms for quite some time, letting him cry even when his nose ran and stained her dress. It took a long time until his breaths merely shuddered as the last of his tears dried and he let himself be held.

Slowly he sat up and wiped at his nose, "I think that I would like a bath now."

"I will have someone come up and draw the water for you," she said wiping his stray tears away. "I have someone that I need to speak with soon, go and look for your siblings. Spend some time together, I have made the arrangements so that you are not interrupted."

With that she leisurely stood up and brushed her skirts from any wrinkles. He sat back on his bed and watched her.

"Where will you be going, muña? May we come along?"

"No Aegon, it is probably best that you and your siblings not come with me today. I do not think it would be appropriate for you all to witness me stir up more trouble than is necessary."

"Trouble?" he tilted his head confused.

"Heaps of trouble and hopefully I will not need any help getting out of it" she laughed. "But knowing my big mouth, there will be times that I cross the line."

"I don't know if I like where this will go" he said. "Please take care, muña."

"I will do my best, Aegon" she said. "But do not worry and I will be back as soon as I am able."

---------------------

"My lady, I must tell you once again that the King does not wish to have any visitors at this time," the guard said with his gaze forward.

"And I will tell YOU again Ser, that if you do not tell the King that I wish to speak to him about an urgent matter, that you are stripped of your post and tongue" she smiled.

The guard trembled in his place but remained firm in keeping his gaze forward.

"My lady, please -"

"What seems to be going on here?"

Their gazes darted to King Viserys standing by his partially opened door, he looked between them expectantly.

"Good brother, how lovely to see you" she said with a saccharine smile. "I was telling this kind ser that I needed a word with you, but it seems that you were preocuppied."

"Nonsense, I have time to speak with my good sister. Come in (Y/N), don't dawdle by the door."

Walking by the guard, she curtsied sarcastically and followed Viserys into the room, only to stand by the door itself as her gaze looked over the massively detailed city that he was constructing.

"This is.... quite the project that you have here, Viserys."

"I have been making it for a long time, I would hope that it looks impressive for all the effort that I put into it" he chuckled, while working on another portion of the city. "But tell me, what brought you here that needed you to threaten that poor young man?"

"I will be blunt Viserys, were you in a drunken stupor when you agreed that Aegon and Halaena should be married? This kingdom follows the faith of the Seven and despite the brutish ways of your ancestors, they should not be married."

His expression hardened and he stopped what he was doing.

"Your Father and Alicent made quite a few points and I saw no harm in them," he said. "If you have any qualms bring it up to either of them."

"But you are King," she stated. "A decision like this cannot be made without your say, so yes there is a few things that you could do to make sure that this marriage doesn't happen."

"We must all do things that are our duty even if we are not fond of them, I am sure that with time they will find it agreeable" he waved it off.

"And you are the speaker of such things?" she scoffed. "Here you hide away from your own children and wife, it is hypocritical to say that they will one day find it agreeable when you can't stand to be in their presence."

"That isn't true!"

"Then explain it to me Viserys! You say that we must all do things that we are not fond of and because of duty, but those children are suffering because of it!" she yelled. "You wanted an heir! Now you have plenty and cannot even spare them a moment of your time or care!"

"My children want for nothing! They are princes and princess of this realm, they have never gone hungry and more things than they could ever want!" he argued. "In time they will learn to grin and bear it, because there are others that would love to be in their place!"

"With parents like theirs, it is punishment enough!"

"Silence! You have said enough!"

"No Viserys, I haven't!" she rushed forward and stood toe to toe with the man. "If I must forfeit my life here, I will do all in my power to ensure that those children have someone fight on their behalf!"

Viserys was practically shaking in anger, but her eyes had a look in them that made the man turn away. "See yourself out, (Y/N)."

"No."

He looked at her in disbelief, "No?"

"No" she echoed. "Until you concede, I will not."

"I am King, I could have you thrown in a cell for this insolence!"

"All I see is a weak man, there is no King here."

It was unnerving how she stared at him, Viserys was used to grown men trembling at his word and groveling for forgiveness at his feet. People pleading that he would find mercy in his heart for them and not following through with his threats.

Yet his good sister refused to back down

His legs shook as he sat down and tried to keep his gaze on her.

"What would you have me do? I have already agreed."

"Allow me to find good matches for the children and that I may have say in what must be done for them" she said simply.

"That is asking for too much, (Y/N)."

"Oh it is merely the start, Viserys."

"What else is there?" he asked.

"We will have many more things to discuss," she smiled. "I hope you are comfortable because changes must be made."

[the-winter-spider]

Good Guy | S.H

Word count: 1k

Warnings: None? Angst?

A/N: Yall i havent posted in ages, im still very much active reading everyone elses writings buuut im deciding to go thru and post everything i have in my docs, maybe finally fix my master list 💀🤭 we’ll see! Enjoy

—

You were sitting on the edge of his bed, your legs dangling over as you turned to look over your shoulder at him snoring peacefully while you were holding your breath trying to savour this moment before the reality of what happened last night crushed you.

You knew what it was, it was ‘the world is most likely ending and the girl ive been in love with since high school still doesn’t love me back’ sex. Because there was no logical way Steve had feelings for you of any sort that would make him want to tear your clothes off and litter your bruised and scarred body with such tender kisses, whispering the sweetest of words in your ear, then proceed to hold you in his arms while he falls asleep.

There was no way in any world upside right or down that it was anything more than that.

You sighed, finally pushing yourself off the bed, tip-toeing around his room to gather the pieces of your clothing, ushering as quickly and quietly to his bathroom as you could. You wanted to avoid the mirror so bad, you were disgusted with yourself, not for sleeping with him, no but for letting your self think for a mere second that it was anything but sex to him. In all honesty it was probably just an itch he wanted to scratch, you were probably just a flavour of ice cream he was lingering on for a while something no one else in their right mind would pick but once you’ve tried all the other flavours you were the only one left.

Pathetic. That's all you were, you slipped off his boxers letting your tears hit the ground with them. The cotton fabric catches your salty waters as they hit the tile.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid” you whispered to yourself pulling on own clothes, before sliding out of his room and house.

The morning spring air hit you refreshingly as you closed your eyes, stopping to gather your thoughts for a brief moment, steadying yourself and the whirlwind of emotions going through your head.

You knew you had to hurry home and change to be ready to meet at the Wheeler's house for 9:00am sharp to discuss your next moves with Vecna, and arriving with Steve while you were still in yesterday’s clothes would raise suspicion, questions and leave you open for friendly banter and teasing but more importantly you didnt wanna still be at Steve’s house when he woke up, you couldn't handle seeing the pure regret in his eyes, the shame that would be radiating off of him, surely that would be your tipping point.

You looked at your watch, 9:00AM “Shit” you mumbled, downing the rest of your coffee like it was a shot at a party, you quickly tied the laces on your converse before running across the street to the Wheelers.

You let out a huff of hair, running your hand through your hair before knocking, the door whipped open revealing Robin “Oh! I'm so glad to see you” She grabbed your arm, yanking you inside, “We've been here all but maybe 10 minutes and everyone is already arguing” She threw her hands up “Can you believe that? it's too early for this!” You reached the door to the basement as Robin loudly started troting down “Y/n is finally here!”

You reached the bottom of the stairs giving a small wave and smile looking everywhere but the brown haired boy in the corner whose eyes you could feel piercing into you “Hi” your voice quiet before manurving your way to the side, far away from Steve.

You were sitting legs crossed on the wheelers couch, you could hear a buzzing surrounding you, squeezing your eyes shut, rubbing your temples you weren’t sure if at this point if it was the headache you’ve been nursing for a few days, the lack of sleep, or all the tears you cried this morning in Steve’s bathroom. All the voices of your friends overlapping one another mushing into a single sound.

tick, tick, tick, tick

“So we now know Max is one of Vecna’s targets, we just have to.…” Nancy spoke her voice trailing off as you tuned it out. Their chatter immersed into one inconvenient noise to you, the pounding in your head overpowering the conversation no one cared that you weren't taking part in. Even though you have always been more of a listener, never giving suggestions because someone always had a better one. You were just here to do as you were told and make sure no one else got hurt because they all had families, parents, people who loved them, you didn’t. And if one of your dumb ideas led to the possibility of one of them getting hurt or worse ending up dead, you would never be able to forgive yourself, so you stayed out of it.

You found picking at your pant leg was a better distraction, wasting all the energy you had on making the hole in your pants bigger than it already was, revealing a scar on your knee that you obtained last year running from russians, when for a brief moment the buzzing stopped and your sense zeroed in on the trickling cool wetness you felt on your upper lip and your eyes growing wide as you watched a single droplet of blood land on your jeans.

You moved your hand to catch the rest of the droplets when you looked up your eyes met Max’s, her eyebrows raised in shock before they softened as she watched a tear run down your cheek “Guys” she spoke, her voice could barely be heard over Steve arguing with Nancy that he didn’t want to be a babysitter anymore “GUYS!” she screamed even louder as all eyes turned to her

Steve and Nancy both turned their heads to her yelling “What?!”

Max lifted up her hand, directing her finger to point directly at you, suddenly one by one all pairs of eyes turned to you

“Holy shit” Dustin muttered “Holy shit!” He got louder as he pieced it together.

“No” Steve froze “No, no, no” He was panicking suddenly the room felt heavy, the air was leaving his lungs as he watched blood dripping from your nose.

[grugruel]

Lust for Vampyr

Pairings: Paul Hill x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: A new handsome priest arrives at Crockett Island and youre desperate for his attention, but when he seems to be avoiding you, you do the only logical thing. Show up at his door

Word count: 3.8K

Warnings: Blasphemy, age-gap (reader over 20), oral sex (f! receving), pinv sex, rough sex, praise kink, slight thigh kink? Little bit of edging and cock-warming, tasting of blood (vampire shenanigans), PRIEST KINK.

Id never really found any interest in attending mass, despite my parents insistent attempts to drag me along. I had been watching the old monsignor preach for years now until he left for his pilgrimage, leaving a blank spot for a new priest to take his place.

Paul Hill had he called himself, and it was like lightning struck. All of a sudden I had a new fevor for the faith and although I had moved out long ago, my parents were thrilled to say the least. Little did they know though, that a fire had stirred within me. I started with innocent glances, admiring him from a far, telling myself it was just because of his enthusiastic way of preaching. But then getting a thing for his tall stature, big hands and stark black hair. He had me cleching my thighs together as I sat next to my parents in the church pews.

He made me want to confess my every sin to him and eventually I did, when I grew desperate enough. Just for the chance to hear him breath in that quiet intimate way I had begun to crave.

We had met briefly, just to introduce ourselves, but thats it. I wanted to talk to him more though, learn more about him. So I started lingering after mass, telling my parents to go on ahead without me just so I could get a word with the new father. But he usually dissapered into thin air before I got the chance, seemingly avoiding me like the black death.

Which Is how I ended up in my current situation. It was after the usual mass, I had dressed extra nicely tonight. I was standing in the cold on the fathers poarch, knocking on the rectory door in my fancy dress, black tights and mary janes.

I felt out of place, I know I shouldnt be here for this reason, I know I shouldnt have dressed nice in an effort to seduce a man of the church. Shame crept up my cheeks, coloring them a bright red. But I heard shuffling behind the door, then footsteps coming toward me and immedietly regretted my decision.

What was I doing? This is so stupid, hes going to send me away, direct me back to my parents like a lost child. My thoughts came to a sudden halt when the door finally opened, and there he stood. Father Paul.

He was in his regular black shirt and white collar, wearing his tight jeans. His eyebrows rose when he saw me, 'Ah' he sighed, as if expecting me but surprised none the less.

'Father.' I greeted, smiling faintly, 'Youre a busy man, you always disappear after mass, its hard to find time to talk with you.' I told him, he smiled apologetically 'Unfortunately yes, Ive had some urgent business to atend to lately, its taken up all my past time.' He explained as his gaze trailed down my body, eyes lingering on my thighs, 'I- uhm. . .' he shook his head, completley lost in thought when a particularly chilly breeze blew by. He shuddered, apparently noticing the cold for the first time, which managed to break him out of his trance and making him pay attention to my own shivers. Noting the goosebumps lining my arms and collarbones. He met my gaze again, hestitating slightly before moving out of the way 'Its freezing, please do come in.' He said, smiling cheapishly. 'Thank you.' I whispered as I passed him, intentionally brushing against his arm and hoping that he would catch a whiff of my perfume.

He closed the door behind us and made his way to the kitchen, 'Tea?' He asked.

'Yes please.' I answered and he smiled to himself, pleased with my manners. He gestured to the armchair in the middle of the room, 'Please, sit.' He urged me, then put a kettle of water on. I nodded and sat down, crossing my legs.

We waited on our opposite ends of the room, an akward silence settling over us. Finally though, the wistle of the kettle rang through the rectory and he made us two cups and sat down on the sofa opposite me. He handed me my cup and our fingers brushed as I took it, our eyes met, lingering on eachother. But he cleared his throat and looked away, 'So what brings you here?' He questioned.

I rested the cup in my lap as I tried to come up with an appropriate answer. 'We havent peoperly met, I suppose. . I simply wished to get to know you a bit better.' I said shyly.

He smiled, 'Well ofcourse, thats reasonable enough. Did you have any specific questions in mind?' He asked, sipping his tea.

I blanked completley, what was my plan here? 'I- No, not really. Uhm.' I stumbled ahead blindley.

He chuckled, 'Youre never this nervous in confessional are you.'

My face lit up in shame, averting my faze from him 'Well father, I suppose it gets easier in the dark.' I said, sipping my tea nervously.

He chuckled, 'I suppouse it would yes.'

I nodded gravely, looking back at him and found that his eyes had drifted to my body. It took me by surpise, but pleased me grately, 'Father?' I asked, trying to get his attention.

'Mmhm?' He hummed distantly, not taking his eyes off of me. Perhaps I wasnt so far off in coming here after all, my tights and skirt seemed to be working. Gaining some confidence, I uncrossed my legs and his gaze followed them intently. God, all he needed to was look at me and I was his, completley and utterly. In a sudden surge of brazenness, I let the cup rest in my lap again, clutched in my hands. Then spread my legs wider and slid the cup between my thighs, still in my grip, so that the view of my panties was blocked by that alone.

His bresthing stuttered, a made a sound that was barely a gasp. He rubbed his hands over his face and combed them through his hair in an effort to collect himself. But it did not work, he felt himself being affect by you, in the same way he was everytime he saw you. Which Is why he had to run off, why he had to keep his distance from you.

He sank further into the sofa, liftning his lap to adjust his position and then sat back down. I practically drooled at the sight, a tingling sensation pulsing through my core. I had to close my eyes for a few seconds, making an effort to think straight, at least until the feeling had calmed down and I could talk freely again. I moved my gaze back onto him and our eyes met, communicating with eachother, exchaning desires we could never say aloud.

Both a bit distracted by eachother, I decided to take the bull by its horns, 'Listen, father. I-' I began, but he shut me down instantly.

'Dont-' he said, holding his hand out to stop me, 'I know. . . I know.'

My mouth fell open in shock and I scrambled for an excuse, but I could not find the words. Shame tainting my tounge. 'Ive tried to stay away, but youre persistent. And I told myself that you must be a trial from god, tempting me, testing my faith.' he said, sitting up straighter and looking into my eyes.

'A trial that I will undoubtedly fail.' he confessed. Relief surged through me, he did want me. I reached out to lay a hand on his knee, but he jumped up, walking backward until he hit the kitchen counter. He leaned against it and crossed his arms, ensuring that they could not reach for me. He was fighting his urges, his own body was betraying him. I stood up, walking around to sofa to meet him, but he shook his head 'No, NO!' he shouted, making flinch in response to his sudden outburst.

'Im sorry, but this- this cannot happen.' He gestured between us, 'Whatever this is.' he sighed desperately and I stopped in my tracks, because I knew he was right. But he was just meters away from me, he was in my vecinity. Free to do with me however he pleased, if he pleased.

I whined at the thought, beacuse it could never happen. I grabbed the back of the sofa and bent down to rest my forehead against it, in a desperate attempt to collect my thoughts. A quiet complain reverberated through my body, "Why did it have to be a priest?" I bashed myself, a whine escaping me as I shook my head slowly. I slid forward, resting my elbows on the sofa so that my hands were free to hide my face. If only I could turn invisible, just disappear. But I was too painfully aware of his looming prescence to escape the moment, he kept a safe distance, occupied with battling his own thoughts.

I burned hot, terribly hot, my face ablaze from the shame of my indecent thoughts and actions, in stark contrast to my body which was only lubricated by them. Every single nerve-ending was tingling in reaction of what I craved.

I was trying, but failing very badly to calm myself, when there was movement in my peripheral, it happened so quickly that I was sure I had imagined it. But it was too late either way, because he had appeared behind me. All I noticed was a small gush of air and then he was pushed up against me, hips to ass and I involuntairily froze.

A shuddering gasp came form behind me as he lrt go of his restrictipns and his hands made contact with my skin, one hand moved to hold my hip while the other explored the dip of my lower back, testing its limits. He rubbed a few slow cicles with his thumb onto my skin, seamingly mesmerized by the goosebumps that rose. He stopped, for only a moment and then flattened his hand against the small of my back. He pushed downward with his palm and as if he'd found a hidden button, my back arched, and my breathing faltered. It was as if god himself had touched me and I had to bite my cheek to stop from moaning.

A low intake of breath could be heard from behind me, as if astonished by what he could accomplish. And as he kept the hand on my lower back pushed against me, he strengthened his grip on my hip and pulled me closer to him. When completley flush, I felt him again. But this time, there was an evident hardness in his jeans and I moaned reflexively, I couldnt help myself. How could I be excpected to? The priest of Crockett Island himself was hard, for me. How I did not scream and beg for him to tear me apart right there is beyond me.

He hissed in response to the friction that the thin fabric of my dress created against the rough fabric of his tight jeans. I tried griding against him with what little movement his hold allowed me, which earned me a displeased grunt and smack on the ass in punishment. I had to cover my mouth as another moan threatened to escape me.

Visions of everything I've dreamed of him to do to me flashed through my mind, things I've only ever imagined while touching myself. My entire skin was on fire as I tried to collect myself, scarcly succeding. I could only manage a single word.

'Father?' whispering it quietly, I turned my head a sliver, as far as I dared. It was enough to make out his disheveld state, chest heaving from supressing his heavy breathing, his usually perfect hair fallen in stressed strands over his forehead, his shirtsleeves carelessly folded and rolled up, showing his forearms. Such simple things drove me absolutley feral, I had to restrain myself from shaking in anticipation of his next move, barely daring to move in fear of him retracting from me.

But he never moved and everything was quiet apart from his shuddering breaths, a result of him fighting his most carnal desires. I wanted to touch him, to caress his beautiful face, to feel his skin under my fingers, and although I loved the shallow feeling my impact had on him, I wanted it deeper. So despite my better judgement, I straigthened my arms and moved to stand up and turn to him. But he quickly stopped me, grabbing a fistful of my hair and thrust my body forward into the sofa, my hips colliding with the back of it as he shoved my face into the pillows, cushioning the force of it.

He hadnt wanted me to see him like that, as if I saw him it would all become real. His desires, his unholy thoughts, his betrayal of god. But I did not care, I had crossed that point a long time ago.

'Father, please.' I begged, voice muffled by the pillows. And there was a slow realisation in his movements as he loosened his grip on me and stepped back. Confusion crowded my already full mind, as he began rubbing the back of his head in distress, turmoil brewed inside of him.

'Im so sorry' he whispered. Oh. . . Poor father, he mustve thought I was begging him to stop. 'Please forgive me, I dont know what came over me. I would never want to hurt you, please know that.' he rambeled, meeting my eyes, begging for for my forgiveness.

I stood up, shaking my head in dissmissal as I made my way to the light switch, turning it off, darkness enveloping us. I searched for soothing words to reassure him, 'You could never hurt me father, im yours.' I said and made my way through the darkness to him, trying to locate him from memory, I reached out blindley in an effort to avoid colliding with something but he met me half way, seeing my struggle.

I did not question it as he laced his fingers with mine and led them to his chest, making my heart skip a beat. I slowly traced my hands upward until I felt his face, enjoying everything my working senses had to offer me. His scent and the feeling of his soft shirt and skin. I placed my hands on either side of his face, cradeling him 'Take me now, in the dark.' I said carefully and stod on my tiptoes.

I leaning into him and as he did not retreat, I kissed him once, tenderly. 'Nobody but us will know' I whispered against his lips, then moved to kiss his jaw, feeling him relax under my touch.

'We will repent in the morning' I assured him and then quated myself, '"It gets easier in the dark"' I found his hands, and moved them to my breasts 'Take me now.'

This time, father Paul did not hesitate. He squeezed my breasts as he met my lips forcefully, kissing and biting me like a starved man. One of his hans dove behind my back, while the other found purchase under my ass. He hoisted me up into his arms in one quick motion, I gasped, surpised by his strength.

He walked me to the armchair, setting me down in it and kneeling in fornt of me. He spread my legs with his strong hands, and laid them on each thigh, squeezing hard. His hands slid up my thighs until they met the hem of my dress. He met my eyes, asking for reassurance and I nodded enthusiatically, giving it to him. He continued moving his hands upward, the dress catching on his wrists and follows his movements. He leaned closer, kissing a trail along the inside of my thigh until he came to my core. He ripped my thights open and moved my pantied to the side, and as he already had me go-ahead, he dove right in. I gasped as he made contact with my core, his tounge thrusting inside of me. Tasting my very being, he moved one of his hands to my clit, attacking it feverishly as the other stayed squeezing the soft flesh of my thigh. He was feral, and I loved it. He hummed as he ate me out, absolutley loving every second of it. My moans became needy and high pitched as I grabbed his hair to shove closer, he did not protest. I came hard and fast, closing my eyes as white light blinded my vision, making me dizzy. As I opened my eyes again the room was spinning, and the father sat proud infront of me grinning. 'Youre doing so good, my girl.' He said and rose up to kiss me, I could only manage a smile. To lost in pleasure to do anything else.

He picked me up and walked me to the sofa, laying me down on top of it and puttin almost all of his weight on me. He rested his forearm close to my head, letting it support his weight and tangling his hand in my hair, grabbing it and gently pulling my head to the side. While the other hand traced down my shoulder and lowered the strap of my dress, to gain easier access to my breast, then kneading it greadily. His lips moved from my mouth and kissed their way down to my neck, sucking and licking at that tender spot above my collarbone. I moaned reflexively, which only spurred him on further. His hips were moving against mine, enthusiastically and rythmically with the rest of his body. Our closeness made his clothed erection rubb against my core perfectly. I moved my legs to stradle him, tightening the grip and bringing him even closer to me, then rutting my hips against him. The friction was delicious and that paired with the fathers delerious assault on my neck, his breath hot against my skin and his moans vibrating through me, had me close to coming undone right then and there.

My hands had found their way to his back, scratching and pulling at the fabric, but it wasnt enough. I moved my hands to unbutton his shirt, but struggled due to our position. I grew tired and greedy from not succeeding, so I removed his colar and tore his shirt open, yanking it down his shoulders, but did not manage to get it further. Displeased about ruining his shirt, he bit me, once, hard enough to draw blood. I gasped and he stopped, removing his hand from my breast and slid it to my neck, coating his fingers in my blood. Stunned silence had settled over us, apart form our unanimous labored breathing. He brought his fingers to his lips, tasting my blood and it was like he became a whole other person. If lust had not driven him before, it did now. I found it strange, but was to mesmerized by the moment to question it. He stood up, resting one knee on the sofa between my legs and began unbuckling his belt. I bit my lip from anticipation, the sight driving me mad, he looked positively devine. 'Have you done this before?' He asked me, I nodded my head in response, 'Have you, father?' He did not answer, his eyes were just drinking me in.

'Touch yourself.' He ordered, and I wasted no time. I moved my hands down my body, lifting the skirt of my dress with one hand and shoving the other down my panties, sliding it inside me to wet it then circling my clit in slow deliberate motions.

'Oh. . . ' he shook his head, 'Good girl' he praised in a shallow whisper, he looked at me like I was no longer a test from god, but a gift. He moaned as I touched myself, surely I was a sight in itself, my breast out, the skirt shoved up over my thighs and hips and my chest heaving from breathing heavily as he was towering over me. His tussled hair and shirt pulled down beneath his shoulders, exposing his chest and collarbones, his veiny hands working his belt. I closed my eyes as I felt myself coming close, and the sound of him drove me further. The belt buckle clanging, a zipper opening and the rustling fabric of clothes falling to the floor was erotic in a way I never could have suspected. White dots were specking the darkness of my eyelids, and a spring was tightening deep in my stomache. My breathing became frantic as I envisioned the father inside of me. I was a second away, when he snatched my hand out of my panties and I whined in frustration, the specks darkened and I felt moving around me.

I opened my eyes and he was below me, stark naked, holding my hand to his face and licking my slickness from my fingers much like he had done with my blood. 'Beautiful angel, you taste divine.' He sighed.

I moved the hand he was holding the caress his face 'Please father, I cannot wait any longer'. And he odded, sliding his hands under me and lifting my hips to pull my dress upward, once he'd done that I sat up to help him pull the dress over my head. He then lowered himself on top of me, pushing me back into the sofa and resuming his previous position.

'Im yours, only yours father.' I whispered and he kissed me tenderly as his hand traced down my body, feeling every curve on the waw down and pulled my panties to the side. He lined himself up with my entrance, teasing my opening by sliding himself through my folds. My breath caught, 'Please, please, please.' I whined desperstley, begging seemed to be the only thing I was capable of around him.

He suddenly slid inside and we gasped in unisome, our eyes met and we stayed like that for a while. No one moved, no one talked, we just admired eachother silently while he let me adjust to his size. He raised his eyebrows, as if asking for consent and I nodded eagerly, pecking him on the lips. He slid out of me completley, confusing me terribly and I desperatly clung my arms around his shoulders, burrying my hands in his hair to make him stay. But he only chuckled in response and kissed my arm lovingly, then slammed back into me. Setting a brutal pace, almost knocking the air out of my lungs.

I could not tell whos moans belonged to who, but amidst the frenzy he gave me a few short kisses on the lips in reassurance, then nuzzled his nose against my cheek and moved his forehead to the crook of my neck, whispering against my skin 'Youre doing so good, sweet girl.' His sweet words were a stark contrast to his hard, fast thrusts.

A few hours ago I was nervously getting ready for mass, dressing nicely in hope of the new priests approval, and now hes ballsdeep inside me.

He moved his hand to my clit, rubbing it in fast circles. I covered my mouth with one hand as a scream threatened to escape me, while the other tore into his back, leaving long red scratch marks and he hissed into my neck. Enjoying every part of the pain and pleasure mixing with eachother.

He straigthened his arm to sit back anf change position, but never relenting his pace. He raised my hips onto his thighs, placing one hand on my waist in a grip that will be leaving bruises on my skin, and pushing the other hand down on my abdomen while still circling my clit with his thumb. His thrusts hit that spot inside me that made my toes curl and it all became quite overwhelming, about to push me over the edge.

'Im- Im close' I managed inbetween breaths and he hummed, nodding as his own movements became irregular. I grabbed onto the cushions for dear life as I was tipping over the edge, electricity sparked between us, and all of a sudden I felt thunder tearing through me and he collappsed on top of me. His thrusts slowed down, allowing me to ride through my high.

'Good girl' he sighed and kissed my forehead as his ruts came to a stop and pride surged thorugh me.nHe stayed inside me, laying comfortably with me as oour breaths calmed together. I could feel his seamen sippering out of me, and I loved it. Because it was him.

'Will you stay with me tonight?' He asked.

'If you'll have me.' I answered, smiling as he kissed my lips.

[eepwriting]

thigh anon here, absolutely loved what you wrote so I'm back again!! might be too much idk but

could we please get another ivy fic, where the reader has feelings for him and there is some playful flirting between them and ivy, but they don't know if he's being serious so they break down and confess and turns out ivy also has feelings for them but was in the same boat of being unsure

ending with lots of reassurance and comfort (and maybe a passionate sex scene if it's not too much to ask 👀)

This Whole Time ✶ IV x GN! Reader

Warnings: nsfw, smut, intercourse, masturbation, slight angst

Omg hiii thigh anon!! I made sure to not delete your entire ask this time ha. Thank you as always ���

!! mdni !!

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You couldn’t deny the way your heart ached slightly every time you saw him.

He was always so kind, considerate of your thoughts and feelings. He was funny, charismatic, and handsome. The two of you had became friends almost 2 years ago, this little crush growing everyday. Sure, you could confess how you felt, but you knew you’d never recover if he didn’t feel the same. Maybe the two of you could remain friends if that was the case, but the reminder of absent attraction would always be at the back of your mind. You couldn’t bring yourself to think of your everyday life without him in it.

So, you remained just friends with him. You play along with his naturally flirty nature and pretend to not be affected by it, not letting him see how much you wished it was real. “Jokingly” flirting back. Just two friends joking around.

So when your phone buzzes with a text from him, inviting you over for “shit food and trash tv” you push your feelings down and think on the positive side: You get to hang out with your good friend!

Your heart hammers in your chest as you climb the stairs to his apartment later that night. It always seemed to do that before you saw him, only slowing down after sitting with him a while. You knock on his door before letting yourself in, kicking off your shoes at the door. IVs standing in the kitchen, leaned over, looking into his fridge. He hears your entrance and stands straight, closing the fridge door.

A smile reaches his eyes as he walks over, reaching out to pull you into a hug. He squeezes you tight, his fingertips lightly scratching up and down your back. “Hey, you.” His voice is quiet in your ear.

“Hi, how’ve you been?” Your hand squeezes his shoulder. He pulls away from you but keeps his hands on your hips. “Good, you?”

You nod, “Good. Hungry.”

“Well lucky you, I ordered your favorite.” He gently pushes you towards the living room, hands on your shoulders. Your eyes land on the coffee table, on it a small spread of food from your favorite take out place, plus your favorite drinks.

“Oh wowww, you’re really spoiling me, huh?” You laugh as you take a seat on the couch.

“I gotta give my best to my favorite person, don’t I?” He sheepishly shrugs before sitting down next to you. He grabs the remote, switching on the tv.

You hope he doesn’t notice the blush that rises to your cheeks. You watch the side of his face for a moment before reaching forward to open the food boxes in front of you.

You hear the theme song of a show you hate and glare over at iv. “Oh no, no.” You reach over him to pick the remote up, hitting the back button.

“What? I like that show.” He turns to you, his arm flying up to point at the tv.

You shake your head and snicker, “That show sucks, ivy. C’mon.”

“Oh that’s real rich coming from you. At least it has substance! Unlike what you watch.” He jokingly shakes his head in shame.

Your mouth opens in fake hurt, a hand reaching up to your neck as you gasp. “Wow. That’s quite rude, you know?” He just lets out a loud laugh as he pulls his mask up over his mouth to take a sip of his drink.

You settle on an early 2010s sitcom before grabbing a container of food and sitting further back on the couch.

Before you know it, the two of you are 4 episodes deep, food long gone. You sat with your back against the armrest, your legs lay over iv’s lap, who’s sat further down the couch. His hands rest on your calves, absentmindedly rubbing, occasionally squeezing whenever he laughs at something.

You watch as the two main characters share a loving moment towards the end of the episode. They vow to not let the small things break them apart, even the silly little conflict the episode had revolved around. You can’t help but to look over at iv as the people on screen share a kiss, wishing you could have a moment like that with him. You blatantly stare at him, too lost in the thoughts racing through your mind.

“Hey, what’s wrong.” You feel a squeeze on your knee.

You blink, your head shaking slightly as he looks at you with a look of concern. “Oh, uh, it’s nothing.” You shake your head again, looking back to the tv.

“No. It’s not nothing. You seem upset.” He pauses the tv and pulls you towards him by your legs. You couldn’t see your own face, but you felt that familiar ache in your chest, only assuming the look on your face matched what you were feeling.

“I’m okay. Just thinking about stuff.” You pull the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your hands, crossing your arms over yourself.

“What stuff? Sad stuff?” His brows furrow. Even under the mask you can see the pure concern.

You can’t believe you’re about to open up about this. You’re terrified but you don’t know how much longer you can keep up this act. Keep pretending that your entire mind, body and soul doesn’t yearn for the man next to you. You clear your throat, “You’ll think it’s stupid.”

“What are you talking about? Whatever it is, you can tell me. You know that right?” His hand rubs comforting circles over the side of your thigh.

You take a deep breath, your eyes close in a long blink before you speak. “Ivy. I like you. I really like you. More than a friend should ever like a friend.” You pause, your words getting caught in your throat. IV’s hand stops moving on your leg but he doesn’t say anything. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, but I owe it to myself to let you know. I love spending time with you but I can’t just act like I don’t have strong feelings for you, not anymore.”

You look at him, frozen in his seat. You’re screaming at him in your head. To say anything to you. To give you any sign that he really heard what you just said.

It feels like forever before he speaks. “How long? Have you felt this way?” His voice is quiet.

You shake your head, not expecting that answer. “Since I met you.”

He lets out a breath he seemed to be holding, his head falling forward. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.” He pulls you to sit fully across his lap and you let him, heat crawling up your neck to your cheeks.

“What do you mean?” You blink at him.

“I mean, I really like you. I’ve never said anything because I was so sure you weren’t interested.” He reaches up hold the side of your face. “I flirt with you and try my damn best make you feel special, hoping maybe one day, I’d have the confidence to finally say something. Even if it meant the end of our friendship. I’ve always wanted to tell you.”

You want to pinch yourself, convinced you’re dreaming.

“So… this whole time we’ve both just been torturing ourselves?”

He laughs softly, his thumb swiping back and forth over your cheek. “I guess so.” His eyes repeatedly flick down to your mouth. “Funny how that works, huh?”

Your mind races with thoughts of surprise, confusion and pure happiness as you try to make sense of his words.

You notice the way his breath quickens as his hand slowly reaches up to pull his mask up over his mouth. You meet him halfway as he leans into you, your mouths meeting in a hesitant kiss. It starts slow, occasionally interrupted by shy smiles from both of you. He tilts his head when he feels you grip the back of his neck, letting his tongue swipe over your bottom lip. A quiet and low groan leaves him when his tongue finds yours. His hands run up and down your back, squeezing your sides occasionally.

He gently guides you to lay on the couch, his mouth never leaving yours. He half straddles your hips and lets you pull him down so his chest is against yours. His mouth moves to kiss your cheek, across your jaw and down the side of your neck. A breathy whine leaving your mouth when you feel his tongue press to your skin.

Your fingers hook into the belt loops of his jeans, pulling his hips to yours. You’re rewarded with a deep groan, his hips bucking into yours.

He pulls away from your neck breathlessly. “You’re sure you’re okay with this?”

You smile up at him and bring your hands up to cup his face. “I’m more than okay with this. Trust me. I’m just so happy that you feel the same.”

He nods his head and turns to press a kiss to your palm. “Me too.” His voice soft and sweet. His hand caressing your cheek and jaw before he pushes himself off you to stand, impatient hands working over the button and zipper on his jeans.

You take the opportunity to push your sweatpants and underwear down your legs, the two of you unabashedly watching each other undress.

He’s on you again before you know it, his mouth attaching to yours again. Your hands wander under his shirt to roam his back, fingertips digging into his shoulder blades. His hand cups your jaw as he kisses you as if you’re his life source. He presses his hips to yours firmly and you can’t stop the moan you let out into his mouth. The feel of his bare skin on yours making you impatient.

“Hold on, love.” He mumbles on your lips before pulling away from you. He grabs your hand and brings it to his chest. “I feel like my hearts gonna beat out of my chest.” He lets out a breathy laugh.

You feel his heart racing under your palm, yours not feeling much different. “It’s okay. Mine too.” You give him a small nod and smile. “I’ll help, okay?” You reach a hand between the two of you, your hand nudging his cock before you wrap your fingers around him. He lets out a deep breath at the contact.

Your hand slowly slides down his shaft and back up again, your thumb catching a bead of his arousal before swirling it around on his tip. He whines a needy mewl above you, his eyes closing. The sound only makes the ache between your thighs ten times worse. You want to watch him like this forever, but let’s be honest, you’d waited 2 years for this already and you were done being patient.

Your fingers continue working him as you bring your other hand to your mouth, gathering some spit in your palm. Your wet palm soon replaces your fingers, pumping him smoothly. He bucks into your hand, another whimper leaving his mouth. You spread your legs open further and angle your hips up.

He gets the hint, angling his hips down slightly, his hand guiding his cock to press against you. He locks eyes with you again before slowly pushing himself in halfway. He leans down to you, mouths connecting in a hot, open mouth kiss. He draws his hips back before he’s even fully buried, and snaps them back in with a quick thrust. It catches you off guard, fingers digging into his side, a moan muffled by iv’s mouth.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He breathes out and rests his forehead against yours. “I’ve just waited too long for this.” A groan punctuates his sentence. His cock slips in and out of you with ease as he picks up his pace. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, bringing him back down to you again. His quiet grunts sounding ever so nice in your ear. “I wanna look at you.” He says as he pushes himself up, hands gripping your sides as he looks down at you.

You can’t help but look down to where the two of you are connected, your teeth biting over your bottom lip as you whimper at the sight. Your hand slowly makes its way down to play with yourself, your eyes snapping up to look at iv.

He breathes out a huff and quickly nods his head. His attention fully on the way your hand moves over yourself, as well at how his cock glides in and out of you.

It doesn’t take long for that familiar feeling in your lower half to blossom. You could tell iv was on the edge as well, his movements loosing the fluidity they once had. He bends down to pepper small kisses on your cheek. “You gonna cum with me?” He hums as you quickly nod, your mouth opening in a silent cry, your climax crashing over you. Your hips buck up to him as you grip his bicep, a long string of moans leaving you.

IV’s release is right behind yours. His brows furrowed, mouth hung open slightly, eyes squeezed shut. He lets himself collapse over you, but still careful to not use his full weight. His head is in the crook of your neck, his breathing fast and shallow. You feel his hips spasm against yours, the movement sending a weak shock through you.

He presses a soft kiss to your cheek before pushing himself up. You both let out a soft groan as he pulls out of you. He looks down at you with a relaxed smile, his hand reaching out to smooth over the top of your head. “You’re telling me, we could’ve been doing that this whole time?” He chuckles.

You laugh, lightly nudging him with your knee. “I guess so.”

He helps you sit up before walking you to the bathroom, soaking a washcloth with warm water before he gently cleans you up. He helps you get dressed before running to the kitchen to get you some water.

He joins you back on the couch, his arm falling around your shoulders as you cuddle up to him. The two of you knowing you’d not regret the decision to open up about how you felt this whole time.

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This is looong sorry, I got a little carried away.

Absolutely loved this idea! Hope you enjoyed anon! 🤍

K. Bye bye.

[morning-star-joy]

I feel something when I see you now (Joel x F!Reader)

Pairing: Post-Outbreak Neighbors, Joel x F!Reader

Summary: You and Joel avoid each other after he hears you...taking care of yourself. When Joel finally runs into you next, he's startled to discover that lust isn't all that he feels for you.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI m masturbation & Joel's ashamed, Soft!Reader, Grumpy x Sunshine, Mutual Pining starts, Joel's in denial, implied Age Gap

Wordcount: 7.8k

Part I || Part III || Part IV || Masterlist

Joel Miller Masterlist

Joel was still avoiding you, putting in even more effort to not be caught in your presence than before. Not because he was annoyed by your kindness, even though that feeling still hadn’t gone away.

No, it was because he was ashamed.

Ashamed that when he heard those sweet, quiet moans drifting from your bedroom window, he didn’t leave as quickly as he should have.

Ashamed that he had lingered, eyes fluttering shut as he reveled in those soft whimpers, the way they carried on the breeze through his own open window that was right above yours, cursing himself that he hadn’t closed it earlier.

Ashamed that he had ripped the towel off from around his waist after his cold shower, marching back into the bathroom for another one even as his hand wrapped around his already stiff cock halfway there, and he slammed the bathroom door behind him.

The water beating on his back when he got right back into the shower hadn’t been cold, but hot, almost unbearably so as Joel fucked his hand that night, his other hand slapping against the tiles of the shower wall to lean against it as he grunted and thrusted into his fist, wondering what his sounds would sound like mixed with yours.

“Fuck,” Joel had groaned, eyes squeezing shut as he tried to tell himself to stop, to respect you, but fuck he was so close, and you had sounded so deliciously wanton, noises he didn’t know you could make, and the thought of why you were making them, what you were doing to make them, sent him over the edge, shooting thick ropes of cum on his shower wall and over his hand as he moaned, “Fuck.”

Even after the climax faded, Joel stayed under the water until it ran cold, palms pressed flat against the wall as he took deep breaths, feeling the shame wash over him in waves to take the place of the pleasure that had just been shooting through his veins from the release.

That shame turned into a guilt that lingered when he finally pulled himself out from under the cold water, slowly going through the process of drying himself off before heading back into his bedroom, dreading how he knew his eyes would be drawn to the window that he had left open when he stormed into the bathroom.

Once he was dressed for sleep, and built up enough courage to go over and close the window when a light breeze began to bring a chill into the room, Joel couldn’t stop himself from looking towards your window below his.

Shut, curtains drawn.

Fuck.

Joel took care to quietly shut his own window, pulling his curtains closed over it as he feels the guilt seep even deeper into his old bones, face burying against his pillow to groan into the fabric as he thinks back to how the bathroom door had slammed shut behind him.

If he had been able to hear you making those…sounds, you most certainly would have been able to hear him close the door with such force.

He had no doubt interrupted your—

Joel groaned again, rolling onto his back to lift his hands to his face, rubbing his fingers down over it, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to will his mind into not racing so fast with the shame.

Shame, because he knew you deserved better than some dirty old man jacking off because he heard you taking care of yourself. 

But what if it wasn’t just you? 

He hadn’t stopped to think that you may have had company, but he hadn’t heard anybody else as you—no. 

Stop, you fucking horny old bastard, Joel scolded himself as his eyes narrowed into a glare up at the ceiling, hating how he couldn't just stop thinking about it. Thinking about you.

He had no right to know any of that. As frustrating as your mere existence was, as great of an inconvenience it was to have to live next door to the personified beacon of light that lit up Jackson, he knew you didn’t deserve to be reduced to a lustful fantasy by your new neighbor.

Joel would just have to stay away, same way he always did.

And he was doing a fantastic fucking job of it. He hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse of you over the next couple of weeks, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the universe had finally worked in his favor, at least in some small, truly inconsequential way.

Or maybe you were avoiding him too.

Either way, it was working.

Until, of course, the universe had to fuck with him again.

It wasn’t until he had stopped by The Tipsy Bison after another long patrol day to pick up a couple sandwiches for his and Ellie’s dinner that he had the cruel misfortune of running into you again.

There was an ache low in his back and a slight tremor in his left knee that let him know he would probably sleep through the night and at least half the day tomorrow to recuperate, and so distracted was he by the thought of an easy meal, a hot shower and comfortable bed that he didn’t notice you were there until he heard the soft, “Oh.”

Joel’s head lifted instantly, attention subconsciously drawn to the already irritatingly familiar lilt of your voice, eyes meeting your wide ones as they peered in surprise at him above the large bunch of flowers in your hands.

The tension was recognizable instantly, tying him to you in a way that he was used to, but when he saw you shift under the pressure, Joel realized with a start that you felt it too.

You felt it too.

He tried to turn away then, but he kept looking. Eyes glued to yours, watching you slowly become flustered, the first moment that you two had faced each other in weeks coming with the knowledge that you both were very well aware of what you had done, and that he had heard.

What you didn’t know was what Joel had done afterwards, and it was that familiar surge of shame that helped him finally tear his gaze away from you. From the corner of his eye, he sees you spin on your heel—sandals again, he realized, a choice that made sense if you had just been gardening, even though your hands were clean this time and why was he even thinking about this—to start to walk away when a voice calls out your name.

He looks at the young man at the same time you do—one of the owner’s sons, he thinks, coming over to smile at you from the other side of the bar, and Joel’s muscles tense at the sight of it, at the familiarity in your voice as you greet him.

When Joel allows his gaze to slide back to you, he’s surprised to find that the smile you return to the man is forced. It’s the first time he’s seen you give a smile that isn’t genuine, but even then it’s not unkind. Not dishonest, just…nervous. Uncertain.

It’s because of him.

Joel knows it is, and he quickly looks away again, fingers tapping against the bar as he wonders how the long it can take to get a couple of fucking sandwiches—a horrible, rude thing to think about free food for hard work in a peaceful settlement like Jackson, but Joel’s old and bitter and thinks it anyway.

But even though he wasn’t looking at your smile now, he found himself looking at that of the man speaking to you.

That smile Joel could tell was real. It was flashed at you as the man rested his elbows on the counter and leaned forward to talk to you, grin bright and appealing, subtle in its motives but obvious to Joel that this guy had a giant fucking crush on you.

Or maybe simply felt the same urges around you that Joel did.

Those sweet moans—

Joel sucked a breath in through his nose at the rush of more guilt, shaking his head to himself as he stared down at the counter of the bar, foot tapping impatiently now to join that of his fingers.

He has no right to look, no right to even think about you in that way, in any way. 

Even with that knowledge, Joel finds himself very much aware of where you still stood a foot away from him at the counter, now arranging flower centerpieces for the bar, with real vases the young man with a giant, stupid obvious crush on you had brought over. 

You weren't that close to Joel, but you were still too close, and he tries to focus his mind on everything but you being just out of his reach, until your hand closes that distance and reaches out to him instead.

His gaze flashes down to the flower now innocently resting next to where he had been impatiently tapping his fingers on the counter, the long stem covered in thorns leading up to a coral blossom, light orange fading to pink on the edges.

A rose, Joel realizes, and his brows furrow, staring down at it.

You didn’t say a word, back to arranging flowers in the vases, but when Joel finally gives into the subconscious, unspeakable temptation to look at you, he sees your flustered face again and fuck. 

His gaze snaps back down to the rose as he stares at it, remembering how you had picked out different flowers for him and Ellie when they first arrived. You had explained the meaning of Ellie’s, but not his. 

Did his flowers from you have a meaning? 

What about this one? 

What meaning could you have intended by leaving this on the bar for him without a word?

Finally, finally Seth returned with the sandwiches, and Joel took them with a mumbled thanks at the same moment his other hand wrapped around the stem of the rose, and he mumbled without glancing at you while he moved to leave, “I’ll pass it on to Ellie.”

“It’s for you.”

Joel hated how fast his feet glued to the ground just at the sound of your soft voice finally speaking to him for the first time in weeks.

His pulse was racing, blood rushing to his head and, surprisingly, nowhere else.

When Joel dared another glance towards you, he saw your hair falling in a way that covered your face from his view. In the back of his mind—or maybe the forefront, with denial on how completely you had taken over his mind with just three words—he wonders if you have a wide-eyed gaze again, or if you’re completely unbothered.

Then your face turns, and he curses himself for not looking away fast enough, because now he has to look into those eyes again, to see the kindness in them as one of those genuine smiles curls onto your lips and, fuck, he didn’t know he missed it.

He shouldn’t miss it. He shouldn’t look at you, shouldn’t think about you, shouldn’t feel—

He saw it then.

Your eyes wide but kind, setting your face in a softness that he despised the fact that he didn’t truly despise it at all, and his heart thumped in his chest, lurching towards you.

Oh, fuck.

He’s leaving then, turned away and walking out before he could think of something to say to surely embarrass himself, feeling another sharp pang of shame at always running from you, even though he knows the last thing he should do is ever spend time with you.

Still, Joel stares at his pitiable makeshift vase that was still far too small when he replaces the dying daffodils with this new, singular stem of a coral rose, wondering what it means.

Wondering why he can’t even bring himself to throw out the flowers that had died.

He doesn’t notice until later that night that there were pricks along his palm, spots where the thorns had dug into his skin, sharp enough to draw blood that had dried along calloused skin.

Joel wonders if it had tainted the rose too.

He wondered if it would taint you, if his impurities would wash off on you if he ever gave in to the overwhelming temptations to touch you.

Joel doesn’t think about it anymore, even if he’s always thinking about it. His mind is always replaying that sweet smile, those wide eyes in the back of his mind, and on his next patrol with Tommy, he’s foolish enough to let the words slip out of his mouth, “You know how to press a flower?”

Tommy’s head slowly turns towards Joel, his amusement obvious at his brother’s expense at the question that Joel clearly didn’t intend to actually ask as he asks a bright, teasing, “What?”

“Y’know,” Joel mumbled as his shoulders tense up, holding in an exasperated sigh as he can see Tommy’s small grin from the corner of his eye. Little shit. “Like—pressing petals in a book, or something. Makin’ it last.”

“Why do you wanna press a flower?” Tommy’s grin was growing now, as was Joel’s irritation.

“I don’t,” Joel snapped, finally glancing towards Tommy before turning his head the other way completely, not liking the knowing look in his brother’s gaze, because there’s absolutely nothing to know. “It’s for Ellie.”

“Ah,” Tommy said slowly, something in his tone saying he didn’t buy it completely, but he adjusted in his saddle before replying honestly, “Why don’t you ask your neighbor? She knows all about that kinda stuff.

Joel’s body reacts instantly to the mention of you, back stiffening as he keeps his head stubbornly turned away. He hummed in a short, noncommittal way, eyes fixed straight ahead to purposefully ignore the weight of Tommy’s gaze fixed back on him.

“You talk to her yet?” Tommy asked, before giving a little laugh and adding before Joel could even think of what to respond with, “Who am I kidding, she’s probably talked to you. Girl’s sweet, almost a bit too kind for her own good. Still, she brightens up the lives of lots of folks around here.”

Joel hummed again, still staring straight ahead.

He had seen your brightness—with your elderly neighbor, and the man at the bar, towards Ellie and he had felt it himself, locked it away to the back of his mind and the coldest depths of his shriveled up heart.

“Bet you haven’t said a word back to her, huh?” Tommy was grinning again as he kept fucking talking, and Joel’s brow furrowed, glaring at the trees on either side of the trail now.

“You’re right,” Joel mumbled, eyes narrowing for a split second as he lets your image pass through his mind for once, before quickly shaking it away. “She’s too kind.”

With that, he nudges his horse forward more, cutting off any further conversation as they head back to Jackson.

Back to his house, right next to the temptation of you.

That night, sleep didn’t come easy for you.

You found yourself tossing and turning, mind racing with suppressed memories each time you managed to drift off into a light slumber, jerking back awake with an exhausted sigh at the images that plagued your mind when you did get a tiny bit of rest.

When it became a vicious cycle that clearly wasn’t about to be interrupted if you kept lying there, you decided to get up for a bit. And as you pulled your faded robe around yourself, digging through your bedside table for the lighter and small pack of cigarettes you really tried not to indulge in, that was when you heard it.

Muffled, and for a moment you thought maybe you were imagining it, hearing things from a lack of sleep, but the more you focused on it, the more you were certain that it was coming from somewhere.

You followed the sounds, drifting towards your front door, and when you realized you were getting closer, you cracked it open to stick your head out, eyes searching through the darkness of the night to find the source of it.

Music.

It was clear now, no longer muffled, letting you know that this wasn’t being played through an old machine, but from an instrument, right here and now. Gentle too, as if not to disturb the peace of the night, but you thought that the melodic strumming made the air warmer, comfortable, and you found yourself stepping outside of your house onto your porch to find whoever was playing it.

When you realized it was coming from close to your right, you felt surprised at the idea before you even saw him to confirm it.

Joel Miller, the man with the most dour countenance in Jackson, was sitting out on his porch, strumming a guitar with the most serene expression you had ever seen from him.

It was such a sharp contrast to the severity you had only ever seen his face set in, that you found yourself openly staring at the unexpected sight.

Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice you peeking out your front door to gawk at him, his brows still pinched together as they usually were, but without the stern demeanor he always showed.

There was something more relaxed about the furrow of that strong brow now, out of concentration on his playing instead of giving a faint air of disapproval to everyone and thing that he had the misfortune of having to deal with.

Like you.

You frowned then, knowing that the last thing he probably wanted to deal with right now was you. Every time you met with him, he was rushing away from you as quickly as he could, clearly eager to be rid of your presence.

But as you shifted now to slip back into your home unseen, there was the faintest creak of your front door, and you froze, eyes widened as you stared down at the lighter and cigarettes still clutched in your hand, horrified at the feeling of the weight of his gaze snapping to you at the sound.

You remained frozen, halfway inside your house, breath quickening as the intensity of his eyes on you didn’t alleviate.

If anything, it worsened, your skin prickling with heat—embarrassment, most likely—as he stared at you, and you cleared your throat, daring a peek around the edge of your doorframe at him.

Joel’s eyes met yours then, a hint of surprise in that dark gaze, and you gripped your things tighter when you realized it wasn’t completely closed off, as you had always seen until now.

You cleared your throat, briefly pondering over the wisdom of what you were about to do before your head poked around the door completely and the greeting slipped out anyway, “Evening.”

A thick eyebrow arched at your voice, and your skin suddenly felt even hotter when his own voice responded, deep and a bit thick, as if unused for a while or if he had just woken up recently, “Bit past evening.”

An awkward laugh slipped past your lips, a subconscious attempt to cover up the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears, and you gave a hesitant smile that his gaze narrowed in on when you said, “Ah, well, I suppose you got me there, Mr. Miller.”

Joel stared at your mouth for a split second longer before his head turned back down to the guitar in his lap, though his fingers had stopped moving along the strings. You stared at where they were resting against them now, trying to control your breathing as you told yourself he was not just staring at your lips. He was too far away, and it was too dark to really tell. You had definitely been seeing things.

But then your gaze slipped up to where his other hand was wrapped around the neck of the guitar, his fingers tapping along the chords he had just been pressing down on, and even from your own porch next door you could see the length, the thickness of them, something you had noticed before and fantasized about before he heard—

You cleared your throat, turning your face away when you felt his attention move back towards you at the unintentional sound you had made.

Staring back inside your home, you knew you should escape inside of it, that you shouldn’t attempt to continue any further conversation with your grumpy neighbor, but again, you found yourself speaking before you could stop yourself, “It sounded nice.”

You held back a wince, mentally berating yourself for trying to give a compliment on his guitar playing that you had blatantly eavesdropped on, and such a stupid compliment at that.

“I—uh—” you hedged, shifting on your feet as you flipped back and forth between wanting to explain yourself and wanting to hide from this embarrassing interaction, but once again, you found yourself filling the silence between you like you always did when faced with Joel, “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just—I heard it, and was curious where it was coming from, so…”

Silence fell again when you found no more words to say, holding in a deep sigh as you wondered what you were doing here. What were you ever doing when it came to Joel Miller?

You were convinced the man didn’t like you. Maybe he even hated you.

So why were you always so eager to speak to him, trying to get him not to leave?

Why did you always watch with disappointment whenever he did?

Your lips parted again, to say goodnight this time, when his voice filled the night air before yours could, “Can’t sleep?”

Breath catching in your throat, you felt your heart skip a beat as you turned to look back at him.

Joel’s head was turned down towards his guitar again, fingers sliding along the neck of the guitar to find a new chord before plucking the strings a few times, letting a new, lighter tune fill the air with just a few notes before glancing back towards you.

Unable to find the words to speak then, you shook your head slowly, the hand clutching your cigarettes pressed right against where your heart pounded in your chest before you whispered a shaky, “No.”

You didn’t know if he would even be able to hear you, but the night was dead quiet other than the few notes Joel would play every now and then, and he nodded at your answer before murmuring just as quietly, “Yeah, me neither.”

At the somber admission, you softened, brows furrowing as you glanced over his face. Joel had always seemed so serious to the point of being grievous, guarded by so many walls after walls that you wouldn’t know the first thing about breaking through even the first set of barriers.

But there was something about his face just in this moment, a relaxation in the hard lines of his face that didn’t paint him as being so grim, so frigid.

Just…

Tired.

Weary.

Exhausted.

And you were stepping out onto your porch before you could think twice, not giving yourself the time to muse over how Joel always seemed to pull actions from you with no thoughts, holding up the cigarettes and lighter with a simple question of, “Would you like a smoke?”

Joel’s fingers froze on the guitar again, looking back up to glance over towards your face, and you held your breath, preparing yourself for the inevitable reaction of him getting up and heading back inside his house without so much as a rejection, letting his actions speak loud enough for themselves.

You were even ready to head back inside to try and fail to get more sleep tonight when Joel changed the trajectory of everything with a simple, “Sure.”

Your head snapped back around, wide eyes landing on Joel to see him looking down at his guitar again. He wasn’t playing anymore, just staring down at the strings underneath his fingers, and for a moment you wondered if you had imagined him replying until he huffs out a sigh.

Joel looks up to you then with a blank expression, his hand raising from the neck of his guitar to beckon you over with a wave of two of those long fingers towards himself, and some part of your subconscious was embarrassed by how quickly your feet moved down your porch steps at the come here gesture.

In the moment, you were too distracted by your racing heartbeat as you turned to walk up his pathway, a gentle breeze brushing past making you pull your robe tighter around yourself, face heating as you remembered that you were still in your sleep clothes, but you were too far now to turn back.

You hopped up the steps, and even though it wasn’t your first time standing on Joel Miller’s porch, it felt different. Maybe it was the fact that he was lounging on it, guitar sitting casually in his lap, not hovering inside the house ready to slam the door in your face.

Or maybe it was the vulnerability in you standing before him in your pajamas, and you hoped he couldn’t see how flustered you were as you slowly made your way over to him. Keeping a good distance between you, your hand outstretched to offer the cigarettes and lighter to him first, blinking in confusion when he lifted his hand again to reject your offer.

“But you—”

“I don’t wanna take one of yours if you got so few,” he murmured, glancing pointedly towards the four cigarettes clutched between your fingers, and you looked towards them in surprise, not expecting this consideration from the grumpy man. “I’ll share.”

Your gaze flashed back up to his, and your eyes finally met again, without the space between your front porches separating you. Now you were standing right in front of him, about to share a cigarette with him, and your free hand clutched your robe tighter around yourself, trying to warm yourself up enough to resist a shiver, even as you knew your body’s instinctual reaction had nothing to do with the night breeze.

“Alright,” you mumbled as you quickly looked away, staring down at the cigarette you kept perched between your fingers after you slipped the others into your robe pocket.

Placing it between your lips, you cursed the way your fingers shook while trying to light the flame of your lighter, hoping for some reason that Joel wouldn’t think you some inexperienced novice, but the rapt attention you could feel focused on you wasn’t helping matters.

Eventually, you got it to light, and you were grateful for the rush of nicotine into your lungs when you breathed in, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation you hadn’t indulged in for a while. Cigarettes were not common in Jackson—for good reasons, considering how their effect on health directly opposed the concept of trying to survive in this horrid world—and you had been saving these last few for when you really needed them.

Tonight was one of those times, and you were especially glad for the way it relaxed your body, the tension in your muscles unraveling as you stood in the presence of your sulky neighbor for the longest amount of time yet.

When you opened your eyes to look back at Joel, he was still watching you, expression as unreadable as always even as his guitar sat forgotten in his lap. Your heart skipped a beat at the inscrutable intensity of his eyes, dark as the night that surrounded you, and even though you wanted to take another drag of the cigarette to try and settle your nerves again, you found yourself holding it out to him, wanting to stay true to your offer to share.

Joel’s eyes flickered down to the lit cigarette perched between your outstretched fingers, and his hand rose from the neck of his guitar before quickly stopping. His own fingers hovered in the air, twitching in hesitation before finally lifting to gingerly take the offering from you.

With the action, the length of those fingers brushed against yours for the first time, and you felt a rush through your veins stronger than that of the nicotine.

You inhaled sharply when you felt the rough texture of his fingertips against your fingers, gaze narrowing in on the length of them once again, even more intently when they were grazing yours. There had been more than one occasion when you had admired the thickness of those fingers, fantasized about the callouses from a hard life that had led him to the house next door to yours, and this was the first moment where he finally closed the distance and touched you.

It was hardly even touching you, really—you didn’t even think it was intentional. The brief graze was impossible to avoid as he took the cigarette, and you really hoped he hadn’t noticed your audible reaction to it, even as the night was so silent that there couldn’t have been any way for him to miss it.

Your face heated, your hand pulling back to grab at your robe again, arms encircling around yourself as you pulled it tighter across your body in an attempt to keep your slight trembling under control. 

“You cold?”

Blinking a few times, you looked up at Joel to see he hadn’t yet looked away from you, and you felt your cheeks heat further while he parted his lips just slightly to place the cigarette between them.

“I, uh—” you cleared your throat, shaking your head quickly as you shifted back on the balls of your feet, staring down at them as you realized, shoot, were you really barefoot right now too? “No. I’m fine.”

Joel hummed, a short sound that neither said if he believed you or if he was unconvinced of what you said. It was purely an acknowledgement that he had heard you, offering no opinion on what you had said, and you peeked a glance back up at him, relaxing a fraction when you saw he was finally looking away from you again.

For a moment, you dared to hope he wouldn’t say anything else—an odd thing to hope, considering you were always trying to get the man to say more than a few words to you every time you ran into him—but when he pulled the cigarette out from his mouth, he let out a few words along with the smoke he breathed out, “Didn’t think you were the type.”

Your brows furrowed, leaning forward now as you asked, “What type?”

Joel’s eyes met yours again, lifting the cigarette up as a silent answer to your question before he took another drag of it, and you laughed quietly as you watched him breathe out the smoke again.

“Why not?” you asked, watching the breeze carrying his smoke away from the both of you. 

Joel paused, glancing over your face as if he wasn’t expecting you to question his comment, before saying slowly, “Well…you’re…”

You arched an eyebrow as he trailed off, a smile slowly curling onto your lips, and now it was his turn to look away, taking another quick drag of the cigarette as you repeated, “I’m…?”

Joel huffed out the smoke this time, and you watched the puff of it linger in the air before a shift in the breeze carried it right towards your face, and you cursed the heat it sent ricocheting through your body as his gruff voice replied, “You’re…sweet.”

A laugh slipped past your lips before you could stop it, a sound of pure surprise at the comment, and Joel glanced back at you with just as much surprise in his gaze at the sound.

Maybe there was also surprise at his own comment in that dark gaze, and you felt shocked again as a different warmth curled inside of you than the one you just felt, a considerably more dangerous one that made your heart race and throat dry, having to clear your throat before you croaked out, “I can’t smoke because I’m sweet?”

“I—” Joel cut himself off, shaking his head as he looked back down at the guitar in his lap, blinking rapidly a couple times like he had forgotten that it had been there to begin with. “Nevermind. Forget it.”

Now it was your turn to hum, a sound that acknowledged you heard him and nothing more, and you bit your lip to hold back a smile when he shot you a glare before passing the cigarette back to you.

There was a thrill there, undeniable in this strange dynamic between you at this moment, and in the way the length of his rough fingers brushed against yours again when you took the cigarette back. You lifted it to your mouth by reflex, feeling that initial heat return when Joel watched you smoke, your breath hitching with the nicotine still held in your lungs as you tasted him mixed in with the flavor.

Mint. Toothpaste? Something else too, heady—some kind of alcohol. Whiskey, maybe. An odd combination, indicating that he had probably brushed his teeth and then indulged in a drink after, and you didn’t think it would be so intensely delicious, but your mind was swimming with the taste as you watched him watch you smoke before your eyes darted away again.

Had he tasted you too? You thought in the back of your mind, looking down at the dwindling cigarette. What did you taste like to him? Sweet? Why had he called you sweet? He had called you sweet.

Joel Miller thought you were sweet.

He had made it sound almost distasteful, yes—but he had said you were sweet.

“It was a bad habit,” you say quietly, staring down at your bare feet, noticing how you had lied—you were cold, but you were trying to ignore it, trying to focus on the strange, unmistakable warmth that came from being in your grumpy neighbor’s presence without him shoving you away. “Back in the QZ. It was a considerably better vice than some other ones.”

Joel grunted, the sound similar to his hum—he had heard you, but offered no insight to your revelation.

When you looked over at him though, you saw him watching you intently, yet with less intensity than just a moment before, and you found yourself elaborating further even though he didn’t ask—because he never asked, never cared, yet you spoke to him anyway, “I did quit for a while after—”

You sucked in a sharp breath, looking back down at the cigarette in your fingers again, stomach turning unpleasantly as you realized what you were about to let slip. Your only hope was that Joel would show the same disinterest he always did, letting the unfinished comment pass, but then his deep drawl reached your ears, “After what?”

The only thing you could manage was a small shake of your head, still staring down at the cigarette before you lifted it back to your lips for another deep inhale of the smoke, eyes slipping shut as you tried to replace the rush of memories with the more pleasant rush of nicotine instead.

Joel didn’t say anything else then, and you were grateful for his familiar detachment, more silence descending between you until quiet music took its place.

Eyes opening, you looked down at Joel as he gently strummed his guitar a few times before stopping, feeling the weight of your gaze back on him as you said quietly, “I didn’t know you played guitar.”

He grunted again, head lowered as he watched his fingers slowly begin to move over the strings once more, plucking a few of them to create a slow partial melody, and you were sure that would be it, the same noncommittal answer you always got from him, before he replied bluntly, “No reason for you to know.”

You laughed again, a quiet chuckle, watching his fingers pause on the strings once more with the sound as you whispered, “No, I suppose there’s not.”

Silence fell again, and it brought with it a renewed tension, an unspoken buildup pressing around you. You would never admit to him, or anyone, that you wanted to know. There was a bubbling curiosity about the man who lived next door to you, a desire to know him—to understand him. Why he was so abruptly ill-humored, why he pushed you away every time you so much as approached him even as you hardly ever got that close.

Why he let you approach now, sharing a cigarette with you as he slowly strummed his guitar to create a quiet stream of music that relaxed you more than your smoke.

Dangerous feelings. Very, very dangerous feelings.

Lust for your sullen neighbor, you could reluctantly accept. You could fantasize about his big hands, the broadness of his back, the scratch of his beard—when your window was firmly shut—without ever having to act on it. So much time had passed since you had indulged in a physical relationship with somebody, you accepted by this point that a little bit of desire for such a handsome man was normal.

But this? 

Stomach fluttering, heart racing, mind spinning when he stopped playing his guitar to look back up at you with those unreadable brown eyes that you wanted to dive into and decipher every secret hidden away in his soul—

No.

No.

Too dangerous.

So you quickly changed the conversation to something else, something safe, a question you had genuinely been wondering slipping from your lips as you asked, “How’s Ellie doing?”

Joel glanced up at you, the carefully neutral expression he almost always kept on his face fading to look of genuine surprise before he composed himself and grunted, “Good.”

You nodded slowly, a soft smile slipping onto your face, glad to hear that the young girl was doing well. “That’s good.”

“Yeah,” Joel mumbled, his eyes flickering over your face, his gaze a bit more contemplative than sharply analytical, before he quickly turned his head away from you. “Yeah, she’s settling in just fine.”

“That’s great,” you said kindly, your smile growing a bit larger, unable to help the light teasing tone as you leaned forward and added quietly, “Bet she has those daisies to thank for it.”

Joel turned back to you then, surprise flickering over his face again as your friendly smile grew into a grin, a tiny giggle slipping from your lips at his astonishment towards your joking reminder of your second conversation with the man.

You saw it then.

A tiny twitch of his lips, the corner of them pulling up just slightly, a brief warmth spreading through the depths of his eyes as he fought back the beginnings of a smile before turning away again.

Joel was shaking his head, lowered in a way you couldn’t see his face, but your heart was racing now, feeling nearly lightheaded as you processed what you had just seen.

He smiled.

Joel Miller had smiled.

You had made him smile.

It was barely a smile, yes, and he had tried to stop it, but—Lord, he had looked so gorgeous in that moment when amusement had passed through his features, his face relaxing from its severity for just a split moment before he quickly composed himself.

Warmth flooded your chest and bloomed through your face, and you looked down at the cigarette in your fingers, only just then noticing how dangerously burnt out it was getting as you had been too distracted by Joel to keep smoking it.

With a quiet sigh, you dropped it to the porch, before realizing once again that you had forgotten to put on shoes before leaving your house. You frowned down at the dwindling cigarette, unsure what to do about putting it out when a worn boot entered your field of vision, carefully stomping out the cigarette, and your head snapped up to see Joel standing very much within your space now.

His gaze was focused down on the cigarette beneath his shoe, flickering back up to you for a split moment, and you were stunned by how handsome this grim man was when he was this close, closer to you than he had ever been. Joel’s strange magnetism was palpable this close to you, and you felt the strongest urge to lean closer, to observe more closely the strong slope of his nose, the wrinkles, the few scars you could now clearly see decorating his stern face before he turned away again.

You expected Joel to step away then, maybe to head back inside and close the door in your face like always.

But he stayed.

He moved towards the railing, resting his elbows on it as he leaned forward, somehow balancing a line of not being right in your space while also not leaving it completely.

You were intoxicated by the close proximity, biting your lip as you glanced over the broadness of his back as it flexed through his jacket when he leaned over the railing. It was uncertain whether this was an invitation to join him, but you slowly did so anyway, keeping a small amount of space between you to be respectful even as you didn’t have the strength to remove yourself from his presence just yet.

Your elbow rested on the railing, placing your chin in your hand as your eyes trailed up and down the darkness of the street in front of your houses. Every light was off down the street at this time, and there was something peaceful about the silence in the dead of a starry Jackson night, a strange sense that maybe you weren’t in a doomed world when it was asleep and tranquil like this.

Of course, you knew better. You knew what laid beyond the tall walls around your settlement all too well.

But in that moment, you felt more at peace than you had in years. You and Joel stood side by side, silence falling between you that you felt no need to fill for once, at ease by how it nearly felt companionable. 

Maybe you were just delusional.

Sneaking a glance out of the corner of your eye at the older man’s face, your heart skipping a beat at seeing the curve of his nose from his ruggedly handsome side profile—yeah, definitely delusional.

You gave into the temptation to watch him silently for a moment longer, admiring his features when they didn’t look so disapproving of your mere existence, fingers tapping against your cheek before you finally looked away, pushing yourself up off the railing with a sigh.

“I should—”

“How do you—”

You paused in the same moment Joel did, your eyes meeting his as you waited for him to finish what he was going to say.

When he didn’t, and you felt your gazes locked for far too long to be normal, your heart lurched into your throat, swallowing hard around the lump it formed as you croaked out, “How do I what?”

“Uh—” Joel blinked a few times at the sound of your voice, as if pulled out of some kind of stupor, and you could almost see his mind searching for something to say as his head turned back out towards the street before the words rushed out of his mouth, “How do you press a flower?”

Silence fell then as you stared at the back of Joel’s head when it turned from you, noticing the way his gray tinged hair was getting long enough to curl at the ends. Your mind was trying to make sense of his question, but it was so odd, so out of the blue, that your lips parted to mumble a confused, “Huh?”

“It’s Ellie,” Joel explained quickly, his large hands curling around the railing to grip it tightly, and your heart skipped a beat as you mused on how strong that grip was, how it would feel on your body, before his words pulled you out of your fantasies back to the moment, “She wants to press some flowers or…”

His head turned slightly, eyes finding you again, and you were startled by the shred of uncertainty in his gaze before he turned his head away again and mumbled, “Or something.”

“Oh,” you said softly, your body relaxing at the revelation, a smile growing on your face as you leaned back against the railing to try and catch Joel’s eye while you said brightly, “I can show her how, if she wants.”

Joel’s head lifted again, eyes meeting yours with hardly any distance between you, and your breath caught in your throat at the dark depths of his unreadable gaze and you stuttered quickly, “I mean—well—if you’re okay with that, of course.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just watching you from that short distance, his lips parting to speak, but when your gaze was drawn to them at the movement—so full and pink, god how did a man’s lips look so pretty—no sound came out, his mouth hanging open for another long moment before he said lowly, “Yeah, that’d be fine.”

Your eyes flashed back up to his, and there was a darkness to them now, your pulse thumping quick and hard under your skin, as if lurching towards him at the new intensity in his gaze and that voice, that Southern drawl so deep, nearly a rasp as you—

Blinking rapidly as you realized you had started to lean in a fraction, you jerked back, pushing yourself off the railing to take a few large steps back from your neighbor.

“Great,” you said quickly, stumbling towards the porch steps as you stuttered, “That’s, uh, that’s great. Totally great. Yeah, just—”

You shot out a hand to the banister to catch yourself when you almost fell down a step, cheeks heating as you ignored Joel step away from the railing and towards you, as if preparing himself to catch you if you fell, and you said far too loudly, “Um, yeah, just send her over sometime if she wants to learn about flowers.”

Your head was still turned towards Joel, but your eyes were unseeing, not taking anything in at the moment as you nodded quickly before spinning on your heel and hurrying down the pathway.

It wasn’t until you were back on your own porch, pulling open your front door, when you heard the words as soft as the breeze that brushed past you to cool down your heated face.

“Thank you.”

Joel’s head was turned away from you again when you dared a glance back, wondering if you had actually heard him thank you or not, when he spoke again, “For the smoke.”

Nodding quickly before realizing he couldn’t see you with the way he wasn’t facing you, you mumbled a quick, “Anytime,” before you could think twice of it, rushing back inside the safety of your home right after.

You placed your hands against your hot cheeks as you slumped against the door, head falling back against it as you focused on slowing your breathing, your mind racing as fast as your heart with danger, danger, danger.

Because now you knew you completely, hopelessly, irrevocably had a giant, embarrassing crush on your grumpy neighbor Joel Miller.

taglist: @darkroastjoel @thetriumphantpanda @cupofjoel @dinsdjrn @cavillscurls @tightjeansjavi @sinsofsummers @orcasoul @bitchwitch1981 @dlwrish @within-the-depths @pedrobaby @jupiter-soups @dissentientss @paleidiot

[milfjuulpod]

Guidance Ch IV

An apology is shared between you and Melissa, with a surprise had afterwards.

read the first chapters here

A/N hi don’t hate me for this being so late, i’m working on the next chapter for you lovelies already! does anyone read these notes? anywho lmk what you think!! kisses 💋

Before your alarm went off in the morning, you were up. Anxiety high, mind full of everything that could go wrong meeting with Melissa today. Last time you saw her it went…not well. You were ready thirty minutes early, heading to the coffee shop much faster than you should be driving at 6:30 in the morning. 

Coming on to the school grounds, you had your bag slung over your shoulder, two coffees in hand. A latte for you, and a macchiato for Melissa. Of course there was an apology to go along with the coffee, but it couldn’t hurt to bring her a little present. After dropping off your personal belongings, you made the unbearable trek to her classroom. The warmth from the drinks didn’t help the sweat coming from your hands. 

At her door, you took in a deep breath. Never before have you been so nervous to apologize. What if she was still mad and didn’t want to listen? What if she didn’t believe you? Realizing the options were to go inside and give it your best shot, or stand outside the door and spiral out, you finally decided on the former. 

A couple quiet knocks on the door, and you gently let yourself in. Melissa’s head popped up at the sound, her demeanor stiffening at the sight of you. “Hey, I wanted to apologize,” you started. The redhead said nothing, in fact she crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. Nonetheless, you approached her desk and continued. 

“I shouldn’t have believed what I heard, especially since things were going so well, there was no reason to. And I’m sorry for making such a big deal out of it. I know you’re probably regretting starting to be friends, so I hope we can at least remain professional.” You ended the statement by placing the coffee in front of her and immediately leaving. After accidentally getting a bit emotional with your words at the end, you just wanted to leave. 

Luckily your office wasn’t far, and you were back in a safe space, for now, at least. You pulled out your phone to text Gregory that you took his advice and hoped for the best, and texted Janine the same thing as well. One for logical support and one for girl talk, of course. After wrapping up those conversations, you started up your computer for the work day. Only fifteen minutes until the kids came in, which didn’t affect you as much, but chaos would sure ensue. 

You had barely gotten started when there was a knock at your office door, strange since it was so early. You offered a “Come in!” and poked your head past the screen to see who could be needing something at this hour. It was Melissa, with a look you hadn’t seen on her before. Embarrassment, shame maybe. 

     “Hey,” She started, closing the door behind her. She didn’t sit down at your desk though, instead she remained at the door. “Thank you for the coffee, you didn’t have to do that. If anything I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that hon, I know how Janine can be and the reputation I have. I know you mean well.” 

You were silent for a moment. Shocked, honestly, at Melissa’s words and actions. It took you a moment to gather your words, trying to be careful this time. 

       “It’s okay. I think it’s safe to say neither of us handled it well,” You joked. She smiled, but didn’t look at you. The floor seemed to be more interesting at the moment. The redhead stood there silently, looking at the floor. Her smile faded into a furrowed brow. Unsure of what to do, you waited, afraid of scaring her off. From what you knew about the woman, Melissa was not one to get emotional with others, so treading lightly seemed best. 

      “I don’t regret it, by the way.” She finally spoke. Her emerald eyes finally returned to your gaze again after she got her first sentence out. You bit back a smile, trying to hide the joy and pride from watching Melissa work out and speak about her emotions not only in front of you, but to you directly. It was a big step for her, so it was clear she was no longer upset with you. She seemed to be in a better place, so you tried for more. 

      “You don’t regret what, Melissa?” You asked, but instead of keeping eye contact, you focused on moving your bag from the desk to the floor and a few other items around, giving her a moment of space and pseudo-solitude. 

       “Being friends with you. Earlier when you were…bringing me coffee you said I might regret starting to be friends with you. I just want you to know I don’t,” She answered after a couple moments. You looked back up at her and smiled, unable to hold it back this time. “I’m happy to hear that, I’ll see you at lunch?”

        “I’ll see you there,” Melissa replied and returned your smile, turning to make her exit. “Hold on…Did you just, guidance counselor me?” She asked, hand frozen on the door handle. 

      “Maybe,” You replied, not taking your eyes off the screen in front of you. The redhead huffed in annoyance but you turned your gaze at the right time and saw she was still smiling. 

The first half of the day was easy to get through thanks to the buzz from seeing your work crush earlier. Lunch luckily came sooner than expected, and you made your way down to the break room with a pep in your step. Upon arrival, you saw Melissa and Barbara were already at their usual seats, with a third empty spot next to Melissa. You started walking towards the fridge, but stopped halfway. In an effort to make amends with your friend this morning, lunch was completely forgotten about. With a sigh, you turned back around to get lunch elsewhere. 

       “Hey kid, where ya goin?” You knew that voice from anywhere. With an extra pouty look, you turned to face Melissa. 

       “I may or may not have forgotten my lunch this morning, so I’m going to grab something at the store really quick,” You answered. Melissa kicked out the seat next to her and motioned for you to come to her, so you did. She pushed the tupperware she had to you and got up to the fridge to grab a salad she had as well. When she sat back down, you gave her a quiet thank you, to which she gave you a warm smile. 

    Your phone buzzed on the table, a text from Jacob that read, I’m glad to see this morning went well! 

    You smiled and set the phone back down, and when you looked up, Melissa was looking at you with a smirk and raised brow. Rolling your eyes earned you a nudge from the other woman, she obviously saw the text as well. Lunch continued with this light energy, everyone chatting about their day and whatever was on their minds for the next thirty minutes. It was nice, you were starting to feel settled at Abbott. Even though the issue with Melissa wasn’t pleasant, it made you realize how quickly you had become one of the group.

Despite getting a head start on this morning, the day seemed to drag with the amount of work on your plate. It wasn’t until after the kids had left that you were finally pulled away from the strenuous projects you took on. 

“It’s open,” You said sweetly to whoever was behind the door, not yet glancing up from the computer. 

“Hey, what’s-Oh! Melissa!” You interrupted yourself as soon as you looked up and saw the Italian woman. She tried to hide her smile and pink cheeks, but you caught it, just in time. 

“Hi hon, could I sit with you for a minute?” She asked, but instead of pulling out the chair in front of you, she crossed sides of the room and sat herself atop your desk, barely scooting over your keyboard. 

“Yeah go ahead, make yourself at home,” You teased. In that instant, you realized how close she was to you. Her knees were level with your abdomen, just a couple inches away, sitting oh so pretty on your desk. You couldn’t look anywhere but her even if you wanted to, and couldn’t help but wonder if she did that on purpose. 

“Listen…I’m startin’ to think my apology this morning wasn’t enough. Let me make you dinner tonight, at mine,” Her sultry voice spoke. 

Dinner? At Melissa’s? Cooked by her? Was this a dream?

“Words, my dear. Yes or no? You won’t hurt my feelings.” It was so hard to focus on her words and speak your own when she looked this good, this close, treating you with this kind of attention. 

“I- Yes. Yeah, I’d love that.”

“Good, because I lied. That would’ve hurt my feelings,” She smiled at you, and you returned it. “I’ll text you my address now, just let me know when you’re heading over. I’ll probably start cooking around 6, but you’re welcome over whenever,” Melissa told you. She went to stand and take her exit, but you stopped her with your hands on her knees. 

“Wait, do you want me to bring anything? I can’t expect you to do all the work,” You said honestly, trying to ignore how warm Melissa’s skin felt through the fabric of her pants. Unbeknownst to you, she was trying to ignore the sensation as well. 

“Mm, I think I have a couple bottles of wine at the house but if you want anything specific I’d grab it on the way. Other than that, just bring you. That’s all I need,” The redhead smiled and gently took your hands off her so she could stand. As she walked out of your office, she shouted, “See ya tonight!”