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itwasntimethatdidit40 · 18 days ago

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A quiet neighborhood - Chapter 1

Pairing: Neighbor!Dave York x f!reader Words count: 5137 Rating: + 18, MDNI

Series Summary: In a quiet neighborhood where nothing exciting ever happens, your neighbor Dave is definitely a guy who catches your eye. What could he be hiding under his perfect exterior?

Chapter 1: We start to enter this neighborhood and the trouble begins 👀

Tags: POV second person, reader is female with female genitalia, wears dresses, has hair that can be tied up in a bun/ponytail, no other description is given, she doesn’t blush. smut, angst, kissing, dirty thoughts, infidelity, kinda Desperate Housewifes coded (uh, don’t judge, I love it), easter eggs in secondary character’s names (so you can have fun guessing which series/film they come from 👀), neighborhood dynamics, Carol, Molly and Alice are there. Mention of food, alcohol consumption, some reader's thoughts marked in italics and I think it's all for now. A/N: Here we are! I'm so nervous to post the first chapter of this story! I take it for granted now but: English is not my first language, I tried to proofread as best as I could so I hope there aren't too many mistakes. I don't have a beta, so it's all my fault, sorry. Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist, thanks to anyone who reads, I really hope you like it 🥹

And of course let me know what you think! Comments and reblogs are so much appreciated and they literally keep me going and try even harder! If you want to give me some advice, go ahead! ♥️

AQN - Masterlist

Your neighborhood is a quiet place.

White picket fences, well-kept gardens, plenty of block parties to attend, everyone knows each other and nothing ever happens.

As a child, when you stayed at your grandmother's house who lived here, you didn't have the exact perception of how unusual and picturesque it was, like something out of a postcard.

It just made you feel safe and there were lots of kids to play with, so it was always that special place you hoped to live when you grew up. You lived a short distance away, with your parents, your grandmother would often pick you up after school and you would stay at her house until your parents got off work. You could say that you spent more time here than you did in your actual home. So when your grandmother died and left you this house, it was a natural choice for you to move here.

If you were asked who your most peculiar neighbor is, you would definitely answer Dave York. He is unlike any of the other men who live near you, messy, careless, jovial and chatty, peaceful men who are friendly with everyone. Dave is not like that, he is rather mysterious and reserved, to begin with. He is very affectionate and present with his daughters, of course, nice with his wife, but with strangers he limits himself to a politeness of circumstance, he speaks only as much as necessary, you have never understood whether it is due to shyness or a general aversion to people.

Dave is composed, precise, neat almost in a manic way in his appearance.

He’s been living here for while, he moved here with his family a couple of years after you, and yet you've never figured out precisely what his job is, he told everyone he was a CEO for a company and no one felt compelled to investigate further, the neighborhood gossip preferred to focus on other, more juicy topics and so it remained a vague piece of information, which no one cares about. It certainly allows him to earn a lot of money considering the standard of living he leads.

It always takes you a while to wake up in the morning and you love to spend a few minutes on the porch sipping your coffee, you love that quiet moment before a hubbub of children being dropped off at school, cars pulling out of the driveway, the neighborhood waking up and getting back to life. Dave gets out particularly early so he ended up becoming part of your morning routine.

He doesn't even see you as he rushes out to go to work and you like it that way.

He walks out of his perfect house, with a perfect garden, gets into his perfect car with his briefcase, perfectly shaved, combed, shirt and pants perfectly pressed, understated and elegant tie, shiny shoes on which not a speck of dust ever seems to have settled. You've always wondered what's underneath.

He lives right across the street from you, so you can often see him from your window and you linger to look at him more than you'd like to admit.

You see him out early Sunday morning for a run, black sweatpants and white T-shirt, then mowing the lawn with his T-shirt slightly sweaty from running and his hair a little disheveled.

At lunchtime you catch a glimpse of him sitting at the table in the living room, located in front of a large window with his family as Carol serves the Sunday meal. She, too, is similar in some ways. She is refined, never vulgar, has a lovely tone of voice, she’s kind and friendly to everyone, and bakes crazy desserts. She once brought you muffins to thank you for lending her a package of sugar she had forgotten to buy and they were the best you had ever tasted. And his daughters? Polite, respectful, always adorably dressed, little princesses of manners. But it is he, above all, who arouses your interest. He draws you inexplicably, for as long as you have lived here there has always been in you curiosity to find out if he has some flaw, if there is something that stirs him inside.

And then, of course, he’s incredibly handsome, probably the most attractive man you’ve ever seen.

The first time you saw them at a block party you immediately noticed him, he stood out from all the others men. Black hair, aquiline nose, deep brown piercing eyes, plushy lips, broad shoulders, narrow waist, he wore a suit without looking either old-fashioned or snobbish, just gorgeous. You welcomed him, Carol and their kids to the neighborhood and then went back to your friends to sip margaritas and gossip. You couldn't take your eyes off him though; he was like a magnet that kept attracting your gaze.

There's nothing wrong with admiring someone from afar, is there? you tell yourself when you feel your cheeks warming up for him.

You always liked his confident but never cocky demeanor, his gestures are always measured and graceful, at parties when he talks to someone and is next to his wife he holds an arm around her waist never conveying a sense of possession but rather of protection and care. It bugs you to admit that this is exactly what you would like too.

_________________________

This morning you had to wake up earlier than usual, your boss called a meeting through an email you never wanted to receive, usually when he does it is to complain about something, which makes you want to stay in bed and call in sick. No time for Davewatching, you can't if you care about keeping your job and continuing to live in this nice neighborhood across the street from him.

You jumped into the shower grumbling, washing your hair in a hurry because you were obviously already late, and when you got out of the shower you discovered that your hair dryer was no longer working. Certainly not the best way to start the day. You cursed, fumbling in the bathroom cabinet drawer looking for a hair tie, tied your hair up in a high topknot, and sighed as you looked in the mirror to the image of a messed up you.

You couldn't do much about it, so you thought you'd put on your favorite office outfit to make yourself feel better, a dark gray skirt and jacket that you bought about a year ago. Money well spent, this suit hugs all the right spots on your body, making you feel elegant and professional, with a hint of sexiness. You feel confident. You pull it out of the closet and lay it on the bed, then look for a pair of tights to match. You rummage through your drawer and pull out at least five pairs, realizing they are all laddered. How on earth is that possible? Nothing is going right this morning. You huff, forcing yourself to wear hold-ups. Not your favorite thing to wear to work, they are certainly sexy but sitting 8 hours at your desk with silicone squeezing your thigh? No thanks. Yet this morning you have no choice.

You gather up your papers and stuff them into your bag, grab a cup of coffee adding a little milk foam that you quickly froth with a small electric milk frother, you drink it right away almost burning your tongue and then step out into your driveway heading for your car practically running, the heels you've been wearing clicking noisily on the pavement.

You get into the car and start it, or at least try to, because it won't work. You bring a hand to your eyebrows, cursing again “Oh fuck! You gotta be kidding me!”. Your boss will have your head served on a silver platter this morning.

You get out and open the hood, to your lay eyes there seems to be nothing wrong, no smoke or other visible signs, so you think it's the battery.

You curse and get back in the car, searching your bag for your phone, your nerves are on edge when you hear light tapping on the window. You jump in your seat in fright, and when you turn around you see Dave on the other side. Great, you think. Just the situation I was hoping he'd see me in, stressed, messy, basically on the verge of tears.

You roll down the window and he asks: “You need help?”

“Oh don't worry, I don't want to bother you, I can manage on my own,” you stammer, trying to pull yourself together.

“The car won't start?” his voice is quite reassuring, aloof as it is.

“Yes but really, no problem, I'll call a uber.”

“Don’t be silly, let me give you a ride” you hear an amused undertone now, maybe because of your ridiculous face, you feel so inadequate and stupid in front of him, surely he thinks you're a train wreck and wants to do charity work by rescuing you as an abandoned kitten on the street corner.

You look down and see the lace of your stockings peeking out from the hem of your skirt that had ridden up too high when you sat in the car. You hastily pull down your skirt, wondering in a panic if he had noticed it too.

Your gaze reluctantly returns to him, feeling your cheeks heat up, and he seems unperturbed as he repeats, “Come on, if we don’t hurry we’ll both end up late.”

“Okay...” you whisper "well..thanks"

You get out of your car, finishing to adjust your skirt taking advantage of the fact that he has his back to you, as you awkwardly follow him across the street.

You get into his shiny expensive car almost in awe, smelling his car freshener, obviously something fancy because he’s too sophisticated to settle for something you can find at the drugstore for $2.

It’s as clean as if it had never been used, the leather seat welcomes you, there is not a crumb or anything, this man has two little daughters and his car is immaculate.

You’ve never sat so stiff in your life, clutching your bag to your chest as if it would contaminate the car’s floor mat if you dared to put it down.

He looks at you and urges “Seatbelt, please” and you hurry up to reply awkwardly “Oh. Yes. Of course.” and you see something shine in his eyes, a suppressed laugh, a tiny crack that disappears immediately.

You resign yourself to lay the bag at your feet and put the seat belt on, pulling it slowly, almost reverently, you feel his gaze on you and you are afraid of making another fool of yourself.

He starts the car and drives off, as you drive away from your neighborhood you try to calm down and regain control of yourself. He's just giving you a ride; there's no reason to be so jittery.

You give him directions to your office, trying to disguise your excitement as much as possible; usually you can get along just fine with anyone, but today you feel like a schoolgirl on her first experience.

You watch his profile surreptitiously as you tell him to turn right, and then left, lingering on his sculpted cheekbone, his long eyelashes, his perfectly drawn lips.

He’s so incredibly attractive your eyes almost can’t take it and so well dressed as usual, in a dark blue suit, light blue shirt and a burgundy tie with dark blue dots.

You are almost there and a little bit sorry, you didn't feel like going to work already but now you want to sit in this car next to him until the end of the day.

When he asks you which building your office is, it takes you a few seconds too long to answer, “Oh, this one, on the right.” because you're so enthralled admiring his confidence behind the wheel.

Not only can he drive in gears, but his driving is safe, without wavering, and when he parks in front of your office you notice how he maneuvers with his open hand on the steering wheel. Sexy. You are impressed. You wonder if there is anything this man can't do.

You turn to him and whisper a thank you in a breathy voice. He looks at you and you feel his gorgeous brown eyes penetrate all the way into your soul as he replies, “Happy to help. Do you have someone who can drive you back?“

”Yes, thank you, I'll ask my coworker,” you lie, knowing that you will almost certainly have to take a bus or cab, but you don't want to give him any more trouble.

“Okay, well, have a good day”

“Thanks, you too”

Oh wait, there’s something…” he says, reaching your face with his hand and brushing dangerously close to your mouth with his thumb “here” He licks the tip of his finger and looks at you with his usual unflappable expression as you realize you have ridden in his car with milk foam at the corner of your mouth “you’re good now” he whispers and you would like to sink into the seat and disappear forever.

You get out of the car and walk toward the office entrance, feeling his eyes on your back, when you reach the door you turn and wave to him. He is still there, pulling up to the curb, and he gestures back to you. His car speeds away into city traffic a second later.

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself before pushing open the door to your office and entering.

_________________________

“Hey” you hear coming from above you as you are pulling with all your might at a plant that you don't even know where it came from and that is infesting your cyclamen flower bed. You look up and Dave is standing in front of you in your front garden, wearing the usual white T-shirt and black sweatpants he wears every Sunday for jogging. “Oh. Hi,” you say, passing the back of your hand over your forehead and then shielding your eyes from the sun to see him better.

“So did you solve the car?”

“Yes, thank you so much for your help” that feeling of being back in middle school when you had a crush on your classmate Josh comes alive again inside you.

“Good. Was it the battery?”

”That's right. I had to change it. 300 bucks! Fuck, I'll be damned.” You blather on without thinking that maybe you're not so close to each other to let yourself swear in front of him.

Dave chuckles, even his laugh is polite and discreet but you can see a cheeky little light in his eyes along with a lovely dimple on his cheek that makes your face heated up.

"I know, they're expensive”

“Yeah, but what else could I do, I don't understand anything about cars, I’m better with plants” you chuckle trying to contain your nervousness.

“They are very beautiful,” he notes, moving his gaze from you to the cyclamens and then back to you, staring. He seems to want to say something more, his lips are half open out held, like everything about him.

“Thank you” There is a lull where you don't know what to say or what to do because he keeps looking at you with his big brown eyes that make you melt and then you ask the first thing that comes to mind "Um, are you and Carol coming to the Horowitz party next week?"

“I think so, she told me about it the other night. Will you be there?” you could almost tell you hear a hopeful tone in his voice, but you're brought back down to earth in an instant by your own inner voice.

Stop doing this, he’s married you idiot.

“Yes, of course.” you nod, smiling.

He smiles back at you, “Well, I have to go now I'm glad you worked it out. If you need anything else however you can find me across the street.”

You watch him walk away toward his home as you feel that something, at least in a very slight part, has changed between you. He is warmer, friendlier, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you enter the house to wash your hands. You feel like floating and when you look in the bathroom mirror you see it.

The most gigantic of smiles spread across your face, your eyes twinkling.

You are beyond redemption, a complete mess.

_________________________

“Carol loves that brand”

You are at the mall, standing in front of a storefront window that is too expensive for your pocket, gazing at a pair of black leather pumps. You turn around and see him. Dazzling in a black turtleneck and gray pants, black belt and leather lace-ups, he looks like something out of a fashion magazine. You would almost find him irritating if it weren't for the fact that by now you have to admit to yourself, you have a terrible crush on him.

Molly and Alice greet you with a smile echoing their father “yes, that's right, mommy loves them”

You smile at the girls “I can imagine. Your mom dresses so well, doesn't she?” And they look at you proudly nodding “she does”

“I want to be like her when I grow up” Alice adds in her little bird voice.

“Oh that's so sweet, I'm sure your mom will be very proud, of both of you. ” you tell her gently.

Dave is silent and smiles softly, watching his little princesses behave with you. “Well, we've gotta go, we're going to be late for the movie” he says right back, looking a little embarrassed but as usual you think your imagination is really flying awkwardly by now.

“Oh, what are you going to see?” you ask, always looking at the girls to trick your mind. You don't have to think about him, he's a married man, what's wrong with you.

“Daddy's taking us to see The Little Mermaid!” Molly announces to you with her eyes shining ‘that's my favorite!’

“The multiplex at this mall shows old animated movies in one of their theaters on Sunday afternoons,” Dave explains ”the girls love going there.”

"Oh wonderful!" you reply "well, have fun then"

They're about to leave when Dave turns around and tells you "you should buy them anyway" You stand for a moment interjected "the shoes, I mean. They would look good on you”.

You stand dumbfounded, feeling that tingle spread through your lower abdomen again. You don't reply, but you watch them walk off into the crowd, Molly and Alice each to one side of their dad shaking his hand, Dave in the center with his beautiful hair, his broad shoulders highlighted by his sweater, a delicious butt swaddled beautifully in his gray pants, as soon as they disappear around the corner you go into the store and buy shoes. Even if they are too expensive and if your credit card could talk it would ask you if you are completely crazy. This is the measure of how screwed you are. You can't wait to wear them to the Horowitz party.

——————————

The Horowitz house is one of the most luxurious in the neighborhood; high ceilings, marble floors, expensive furniture all over the place, chandeliers and silverware, these people are filthy rich. You used to tutor their daughter, Gretchen, a snooty little princess who grew up in bamboozlement and thought she could boss you around. Somehow you managed to win her over eventually, and since you seemed to be the only one in the neighborhood who could tame her the right way, her parents paid you good money.

At the time you had just graduated and were trying to find a job so that money came in handy.

You say hello to Mr. and Mrs. Horowitz and jump into the fray, it's packed everywhere, and your neighbors certainly aren't begging to take advantage of the lavish buffet served poolside.

You see Gretchen in the corner flirting with a waiter and smile, shaking your head, she’s only 18 and already so flirty and cheeky with boys, at her age you just felt like an awkward and inexperienced potato with no sense of fashion and no idea how to talk with boys, you're thankful that adolescence is long over for you. Two of your neighbors, Jane and Gabrielle, are gossiping about Edie's skimpy dress and the new boyfriend she brought to the party after divorcing her husband just two months ago. They wave at you and you sit with them on poolside loungers, they’re some of your dearest friends in the neighborhood.

“Where are Rafael and Carlos?” you ask, looking for their husbands.

Gabrielle waves her hand and says, “over there talking football with Hank.”

You’re the only one of your friends left single, after breaking up with Jesse two years ago, you decided to focus on your career. You got a promotion last year, but still no husband in sight.

You suggest to go to the bar to have a drink and they both agree.

There is soft music wafting around, classical, very elegant like the overall tone of the party. It looks more like a wedding reception than a block party, but you know that if the Horowitz don't make it big they're not happy. You approach the bar, a nice drink will solve your nervousness as you try not to stumble and end up in the pool because of your brand new high heels, clinging to Jane’s arm.

Of course she laughs at you “honey, those shoes are gorgeous but don’t you think they’re a bit impractical for a pool party?”

“Hey! You were the one who told me I needed to freshen up my wardrobe and wear heels more often!” You reprimand as Jane and Gabi laugh.

You've been waiting to wear them at this party all week, even doing some tests at home to make sure they don't give you blisters.

They're the highest heels you've ever owned and yes, they’re not comfortable, especially to walk on the grass and around a slippery surface like the poolside but tonight when you looked at yourself, swaddled in a little black dress and these shoes, you've never looked so pretty. Your bank account has been severely undermined but you think it was worth it. And even though it would be lo the last thing you should want, you can't wait for him to see you.

You put on your favorite underwear underneath, just to have that extra boost of confidence.

You feel good, just as good as you have felt in months, and all it took was for him to notice you. You should probably feel ridiculous, but because he took away the apathy you've been feeling lately, you decide you won't. Not this time. And when you see him walk into the garden, black slacks and white shirt, no tie, the last two buttons left open, he is breathtakingly handsome.

The only thing that matters is the instant when his eyes meet yours, and they are not cold and distant, but it is as if they are smiling, sparkling with a light you have never seen in them before.

You've kept your wild fantasy at bay until now, but you're sure that in the midst of all these people he's been watching you.

You feel proud and beautiful until you see her.

Of course Carol is by his side, holding his arm and smiling radiantly in her cream cocktail dress.

And suddenly it all comes crashing down on you, how could you not consider that she would be here, with him, his rightful wife. She wouldn't have been missed. Yet you were so busy trying to look the best you could that you buried her in the corner of your mind, just totally ignored her until this moment. You grab the martini you ordered and down it in one gulp.

“Hey! Take it easy, honey!” Jane says to you, raising an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with you?”

She’s never seen you drink like that, you’ve never actually drunk like that, maybe just after Jesse left you, but it didn’t last long anyway. You shrug and smile at her. “Oh come on, it’s a party! And I don’t have to drive.”

Rafael and Carlos come over to greet you and you're left alone for a moment while the four of them go to inspect the buffet.

You try to distract yourself engaging old Mrs Threadgoode in a conversation you don't care about about the hedge bordering your houses, but out of the corner of your eye you see them approaching, her always at his side, as they make the rounds of greetings. You even try to blend taking the old lady by the arm and continuing to babble as you move behind a huge vase next to the appetizer table, hoping they won't notice you until you hear Carol's pretty voice behind you. You turn around, thinking you are doomed, as if she can read your thoughts, but there is absolutely nothing in her gaze but courtesy and grace, as usual.

It makes you even more nervous that her husband has been your constant thought for two weeks and she does not suspect in the least.

You greet her, trying to swallow your senseless resentment, but when you place your eyes on him you feel that tingle again, that warmth invading you from head to toe, while his gaze is as enveloping and sensual as it has ever been. “You look great,” he tells you, and Carol immediately echoes him, ”oh yes, you look so beautiful today!” You say thank you, chat for a couple more minutes, and then excuse yourself by saying you need to go to the restroom. The whole time you were standing in front of him he was just staring at you, his gaze went down to your ankles noticing your brand new shoes, and you can swear you saw his mouth bend into a smile, almost imperceptible.

You still feel stupid for wasting the whole afternoon dolling yourself up for a married man.

You cross the hallway to the bathroom and see Gretchen again, deep in conversation with the same waiter, she’s leaning against the wall, running a hand over his chest covered by a white shirt and giggling coquettishly. She looks up and sees you, “Hey there! How are you?”

“All good, hun, how are you?”you reply.

“I’m great! We need to talk later!” she shrieks at your back as you hurry toward the restroom door. You lock yourself inside in an instant and lean your hands against the sink, sighing. What the hell had gotten into you, what did you think you were doing?

You take a couple more deep breaths and try to downplay “okay, let's just calm down, there's nothing a couple more martinis can't fix” You look in the mirror and say to yourself “now you go out, enjoy the party with your friends, then you go home and forget about this whole thing. Enough of this crap” you whisper it in a low voice. You have just finished the sentence when you hear a knock at the door. “I'm done, just a second,” you say loudly.

You don't expect the voice you hear coming from the other side “It's Dave”

You pull your ear to the door to make sure you get it right and ask “who?”

“Dave. Open up” Your heart skips a beat and your hand trembles on the door knob as you are unsure what to do. “What do you want?“

”To talk. Come on, open up.”

You don't understand what you should talk about, there is nothing to discuss, nothing happened “I'm going out now,” you mumble, check your makeup quickly and pull the handle determined to avoid him and go back to the garden to find your friends.

You make to leave but Dave pushes you back inside the bathroom “Wait a minute” You are incredulous as you look at his enigmatic smile “What is it?”

“You bought the shoes” You don't know what he is getting at “So what?”

“I was right. They fit you well” He smiles at you and you feel a knot in your stomach

‘Did you need to lock yourself in the bathroom to tell me that?’ you raise an eyebrow wryly.

The situation is so absurd that you even pluck up the courage to answer him in kind.

“Actually, no. But to do this...yes” He leans over you and encircles your face with one hand ‘You’re so damn perfect tonight’ he whispers, before placing his lips on yours.

You open your eyes wide as if you've been hit by a gunshot, not expecting anything like this.

His mouth is soft and inviting, his tongue moving lightly against your lips, and you let it in, savoring a warm and delicious whiff of whiskey, losing yourself in his flavor, feeling his hands tighten on your hips. Before you know it, he has pushed you against the marble walls, caging you into his body and continuing to lick into your mouth like a thirsty man in the middle of the desert, unleashing an unprecedented storm inside you. You moan into his mouth as your arms wrap around his back and your hips thrust against his in a silent but desperate plea for attention.

Your bodies blend perfectly, it feels like one of those wet dreams you keep having at night in the privacy of your room. Him naked on top of you covering your skin with kisses that descend over your breasts grazing your nipples and then over your belly to your pussy. Him pounding you senseless as you whine and scratch his back with your fingernails feeling so full of his cock.

He suddenly pulls back and reality collapses on you again waking you up from the stupor you've fallen into. He smiles at you again “I just wanted to tell you this,” his hand caresses your neck, his eyes fix on your breasts accentuated by the cleavage of your dress just for a moment and as he arrived he disappears behind the door again going back to mingling among the people.

He didn't even leave you time to talk, left you standing there like a fool, wondering what the hell it all means. What does he want from you? What is going to happen from now on? Your head is empty, you brush your lips still feeling his latent taste. If you were asked who is the most peculiar man in your neighborhood, you would surely say Dave York. You would also say that he is a total threat to your heart.

Tag list: @aurorawritestoescape @baronessvonglitter @almostempty @thundermartini @harriedandharassed @syd-djarin @penascigarette @joelalorian @pedrostories @sunnytuliptime let me know if you want to be added or removed and I'll do it right away.

#pedro pascal #dave york fic #dave york smut #dave york fanfiction #dave york x f!reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfiction #ppcu fanfic #ppcu fanfiction #ppcu #pedro pascal characters

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hauntedhowlett-writes · 2 years ago

Text

title: in a feud with her neighbor

bonus scenes now available

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 5621

summary:

Five times you think Joel Miller is the worst neighbor ever, and the one time he isn’t.

author’s note: this is so self-indulgent. i hope you guys enjoy it! if you like this work, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment because they make my day 💕

special thanks to the angels who helped with ideas: @dreamingofdaddydin @jksprincess10 @mydailyhyperfixations @funnygirlthatgab

additional warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), explicit language, no use of y/n, story contains visual graphics, everyone pretend the 12 ft skeleton was available in 2003 and you could stream TV shows, no sarah, no outbreak, neighbor feuds, enemies to lovers, oral (explicit f receiving, non-explicit m receiving), semi-public sex, making out in a pool, reader is a menace and arguably the bad neighbor here, unprotected p in v, use of sex toys, praise kink, pet names, dirty talk. let me know if any are missing!

Joel Miller is the worst neighbor ever.

Your issues with him started on your first Halloween in the neighborhood. You had moved into your new home a few months prior, thrilled that you finally managed to escape the horrors of apartment living. You were now the proud owner of a little single story two bedroom craftsman style home, complete with fenced in backyard and a pool.

You loved your little house and the neighborhood was ideal, quiet but tight knit. The neighbor to your left, an elderly woman named Betty, had invited you over for tea and cookies and given you the lowdown on the neighborhood gossip.

The neighbor to your right, Joel Miller, she said, was a wonderful man. Polite, kind, and not too hard on the eyes either. You hadn’t met him yet, but with a glowing review like that, you couldn’t wait until you did.

She had also mentioned that the neighborhood goes all out for Halloween. They even hosted a contest for the best decorated house. Your mind already raced with the possibilities.

You loved Halloween. In Texas, the stifling heat finally eased around that time, dropping to a slightly more tolerable range in the 80s with cooler nights. You loved seeing all the displays in the stores and how abandoned storefronts would be overtaken by whole companies dedicated to Halloween. You watched all the horror movies you could and on the weekends you’d seek out local fall festivals because you’re a sucker for candy apples and funnel cake.

No one ever decorated at the apartment complex you previously lived in, so you were extra excited to decorate your house and yard. You bought fake tombstones and plastic skeletons for the yard, spider webs and little ghosts to hang in the trees. You carved two pumpkins to set on either side of the steps leading up to your front door and made little ghost statues out of tomato cages, foam balls, and white fabric. You even strung purple lights through your hedges.

You were totally going to win the decorating contest. You were confident that you would.

Until you woke up Halloween morning and Joel Miller had somehow decorated his entire home in the time that you had been sleeping, blissfully unaware.

The man had somehow managed to set up an entire army of skeletons, including a handmade wooden jail stuffed with ones trying to escape. There were some posed on the house itself, climbing up the sides and the roof. He had some coming out of the ground, red spotlights fixed on them for an eerie glow. But perhaps most impressive of all was the twelve foot skeleton with glowing red eyes that was posed near the makeshift jail, holding the door open like it was releasing the trapped undead soldiers.

Joel Miller had the motherfucking twelve foot skeleton. You wanted one of those so bad but it was always sold out. You checked every nearby Home Depot for months trying to find one and here Joel Miller has one, taunting you.

He won the decorating contest, sweeping the victory from right under your feet.

It may seem silly, but that was the moment you decided Joel Miller was the worst neighbor ever.

When you were buying your first home, you had been meticulous in calculating your finances in order to comfortably afford the purchase. You did not, however, account for having to repair your air conditioning system within less than a year of moving in. This made a significant dent in your savings, which led you to cut your expenses elsewhere.

One such expense was your internet. Why? Because it turns out Joel Miller, asshole neighbor, doesn’t password protect his router and you can just use his.

It’s not like he would notice.

_________________

Joel stares at his internet bill in confusion. This is the third month in a row that he’s been charged for going over his data allowance. That doesn’t even make sense. He’s the only person in his house and he only uses the internet on his phone to check the news and sometimes play Candy Crush. It’s why he got the lowest data plan in the first place.

He tries to think of what he could be doing differently, but comes up short. Hell, he’s not even home most of the day. He works long hours at different contracting jobs, so his free time is spent watching TV (cable, not connected to the internet), and sleeping.

But then it hits him. The overage charges never happened until you moved in.

Joel powers up his ancient laptop and has to Google search what a router is. Turns out, he doesn’t have a password set on his. Which means, if his hunch is correct, you’ve just had free access to his internet this whole time.

He learns how to set a password and, more importantly, he learns how to change the name of his router.

He needs to send a message, after all.

_________________

You’re about to start another episode of Grey’s Anatomy, courtesy of your friend generously sharing her Netflix password, when you receive an error message.

No internet connectivity. Try again?

The little WiFi connection icon is missing from your toolbar. You investigate further, opening the list of options and scanning them for Joel’s, conveniently titled Miller.

But instead you find a new name.

GetYourOwnWiFi. And it’s password protected.

“Son of a bitch,” you hiss.

Joel Miller’s tree is always dropping debris in your yard. The limbs have grown over your shared fence line and on windy days you have to deal with extra pool clean up on top of the usual mess it makes of your yard, twigs and leaves ruining your perfectly manicured backyard oasis.

You’ve asked him to trim the branches. Left him notes on his door and in his mailbox, but he still hasn’t done it.

Today you’re sending a new kind of message.

He’s going to wish he’d listened when you asked nicely.

_________________

“What the fuck,” Joel growls when he gets home just after sunset. There’s piles of leaves and twigs littering his front porch, almost to the point that he can’t see the concrete slab beneath.

There’s no way this just happened through the force of nature. It’s been a perfectly clear day in Austin and besides, there’s no trees at the front of his house for this kind of mess to fall from.

Which can only mean…

His eyes spot the bright pink Post-It note stuck to his door and he curses under his breath as he stomps up the porch steps and rips it down.

Here. Clean your own mess up for once.

xoxo

Joel crumbles the note in his fist, taking deep breaths as he heads for the garage to grab a broom and a trash bag.

He’ll get you back.

He always does.

You love animals, especially cats. Unfortunately, being allergic, you don’t have the option to have one of your own all the time.

When you spot the first neighborhood stray, your heart lights up with excitement. It’s a little black and white cat with bright green eyes that walks right up to you while you’re getting your mail, winding its lithe body between your legs and purring against you. You stoop to pet it, mentally reminding yourself to wash your hands before you touch your face, otherwise your eyes would be itchy for hours.

“Hello, little baby,” you murmur, rubbing a hand down the length of its back. “How are you?” The cat gives a strong meow in response. “Oh, are you hungry? Let’s go see if I have anything I can give you as a treat.”

Back inside your house, you locate a can of tuna and dump it into a small plastic bowl. The cat sits patiently on the porch, tail flicking in anticipation. It hops down and shoves its little face into the bowl as soon as it’s within reach.

“So cute,” you say, giving it one last pat on its back before returning inside.

_________________

There’s a cat sitting on Joel’s porch, watching him as he parks his truck. It’s the second time this week there’s been a cat lurking around his property. The first one he found out in the backyard, tearing up his flower beds.

The neighborhood had never had an issue with cats before, so he has a sneaking suspicion that you’re, once again, the root cause of his suffering.

His suspicions are confirmed when he sees you on the porch one day, laying out a row of plastic bowls filled with what he assumes is cat food. At first he’s annoyed that he’s right, it is you feeding the cats, which is why they’ve been terrorizing his yard, but then you turn around and he’s struck by how utterly gorgeous you are.

This is the first time Joel’s ever actually seen you. He’s usually out of the house before dawn and back after sunset, which must not coincide with your schedule since you’ve never run into each other. He remembers Betty, the older woman who lives to your left, telling him about meeting you.

“Gorgeous girl, that one. You two would probably hit it off,” she said as he hung a picture frame for her.

“Don’t go playin’ matchmaker, Betty,” he replied.

But damn, seeing you now in a pair of little shorts that hug your hips and ass just right and a tight white t-shirt that shows off the tiniest bit of skin above the waist of your shorts is making him think he should have taken Betty up on her word.

Joel’s so distracted that he almost misses the way the cat on his porch hits one of his planters with his paw, knocking the ceramic over and spilling dirt all over the ground.

“Fuck!”

_________________

There’s a note on your door the next morning, a torn piece of paper with a familiar scrawl of messy handwriting that could only belong to one person.

Stop feeding the cats or you owe me new plants.

-Joel

The note actually makes you giggle. Betty sees you on your porch and beckons you over to hers.

“What’s got you gigglin’ like a schoolgirl?” The older woman asks.

“What? Nothing,” you reply too quickly.

“Wouldn’t happen to be a note from a certain tall, strong, and handsome young neighbor of yours?”

“No, definitely not.”

She smirks at you. “You better quit terrorizin’ that poor man, honey.”

“Now, Betty, where would the fun be in that?” You say brightly as you head back to your house, the sound of her laughter following you through the door.

There’s a package on Joel’s porch when he gets home from work. He doesn’t remember ordering anything, but he wouldn’t put it past himself.

He brings it inside without thinking twice or checking the label, chucking it on the counter with the rest of his mail as he searches for a box cutter in his junk drawer.

Joel cuts through the packing tape, lifting the flaps and rifling through the packing paper to pull out the contents.

It’s another box, light pink with the image of a hot pink u-shaped device on the top. The text across the top reads REMOTE VIBRATOR in black script.

He nearly drops the box in surprise, fumbling it in his hands. He’s certain he didn’t order this.

Joel pulls the shipping box back towards him, keeping an eye on the vibrator like it might grow legs and run away. He flips the lid over to inspect the shipping label, his eyebrows rising as he reads your name and home address instead of his.

He looks at the toy again, mind whirling with images of you on your back, remote in hand as you bring yourself pleasure. He coughs, clearing his head and adjusts himself in his jeans.

He searches the junk drawer for a sheet of paper and a pen.

_________________

You’re staring at the delivery confirmation email from Lovelies, panic creeping down your spine. It says that your new toy has been delivered but there’s no package in your mailbox or on your porch. You’ve checked everywhere.

Which means it was either delivered to one of your neighbors or someone stole it.

If you’re being honest, you’d rather someone stole it than to have to go knock on Betty or, god forbid, Joel’s door to ask if they accidentally received your sex toy delivery. Your cheeks heat at even the thought of Joel knowing what you ordered. You head back inside empty handed.

Later, when you open your door to feed the cats, you’re surprised to find a box on your welcome mat. You set the bowls of food down and carry it inside, your excitement mounting.

But when you open the box, you’re mortified to find a torn piece of paper on top of the packing material, Joel Miller’s familiar handwriting on the sheet.

Interesting choice

-Joel

“Fucking asshole,” you mumble, crumbling the note and tossing it to the side. You pull your new toy from its box and turn it on. “Huh. Fully charged.”

Your jerk of a neighbor won’t ruin your night if this little gadget has anything to say about it.

It’s Joel’s one day to sleep in and you’ve been blasting your music all fucking morning. He’s already got his head shoved under his pillow but the sound still filters through, ruining his chances of any extra hours of sleep to make up for his lack of it during the week.

He rolls out of bed with a heavy sigh, scrubbing a hand across his beard. He heads downstairs to make coffee, the heavy beat of your music chasing him through the house. He can feel the beginnings of a headache pulsing behind his eyes.

Joel tries to tune it out. Really. He does. As much as the two of you butt heads, he doesn’t mean anything by it, not really. He doesn’t want to be an asshole, nor is he trying to be one.

But if you don’t turn your music down soon he’s going to lose his fucking mind.

He gives you another hour. He’s feeling generous. But when the music just keeps playing, he finally snaps.

Joel shoves his feet into the work boots beside the door, paying little mind to the fact that he’s not wearing socks. In fact, he’s still in his sleep pants and ratty old t-shirt but he’s too far gone to care.

Once he’s in front of your door, he bangs on the wood with his fists. He waits for a response and when he doesn’t get one, probably since you can’t fucking hear him, he bangs again. There’s movement from the corner of his eye and he turns his head to find Betty watching him, lips tilted in a smirk.

“You okay with this?” Joel asks, gesturing vaguely to your house to indicate the noise level inside.

“Don’t be such a party pooper,” she replies before shuffling inside. He turns back to the door to pummel it with his fists again but he’s surprised to find it open.

“Howdy, neighbor,” you say, eyebrow raised and arms crossed beneath your breasts.

Which were currently covered by the tiniest bikini top he’s ever seen. His eyes trail lower, over the expanse of your stomach to the matching bikini bottoms that peek out past the folded waist of your denim shorts.

“Uh,” he says, followed by a strained cough. “Hi.”

_________________

Joel Miller is standing on your porch dressed in a threadbare t-shirt and gray pajama bottoms that sit low on his hips, a strip of soft tan belly peeking out from above the waistband when he stretches an arm up to run his fingers through his dark, messy curls.

Christ, you think. The man is prettier than Betty gave him credit for.

“Can I help you?” You ask. His eyes snap from where they’d been lingering on your chest and you straighten your back just the slightest bit at the knowledge he’d been checking you out.

Joel clears his throat. “Your music is way too loud.”

You roll your eyes. “Does it hurt?”

“Does…what hurt?”

“Always having a stick up your ass.”

Betty barks a laugh from her porch and Joel’s head turns so fast you have whiplash just watching him. He throws his hands up.

“Who’s side are you on, Betty?!” He shouts.

You’re bent over, laughing so hard your stomach hurts and tears form at the corners of your eyes. When you finally catch your breath and return your attention to Joel, he’s got his hands on his hips and an impressive furrow between his brows.

“Listen, maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I’m about to go out by the pool and have a drink. Wanna join?” You ask.

“I don’t have my suit with me.”

“Well good thing you’re just right next door, huh? Go get it. I’ll leave the door unlocked,” you tell him before shutting the door in his face.

_________________

Joel returns to your house thirty minutes later, showered and wearing his swim trunks and a new t-shirt. He wipes his sweaty hands against his chest, not entirely sure why he’s nervous. He’s just having a drink with his annoying neighbor to hash out all the issues. No big deal.

Your music is still playing when he enters your house, giving the door a courtesy knock before letting himself in. The front door opens directly into the main living space, a large sectional couch facing a TV mounted between two windows to his right and a dining nook to his left. Your kitchen is nestled in the corner, just past an opening to a hallway that he assumes leads to the bedrooms. Your place is bursting with colors and textures and patterns, from the floral blanket draped over your velvet couch to the leaf patterned wallpaper and natural stone backsplash in your kitchen. You have tea towels hanging from your stove that say “ANOTHER ONE BITES THE CRUST” with a picture of a pizza, and an impressive looking bar cart that houses a variety of liquor bottles and glassware.

There’s a splash from outside and Joel sees that the sliding glass door to your patio is open. He steps onto the concrete deck, surveying the backyard oasis you’ve created for yourself. The pool is on the smaller side but still, it’s a pool, and Joel’s a little jealous of it. You’ve got chaise loungers lined near the edge and matching chairs that surround a little fire pit further out in the yard. There’s string lights hung from the shade canopy that extends from your house.

You pop up from beneath the surface, your hair slicked back from your face and little droplets of water clinging to your skin. Joel stands there, unsure of what to do, until you swim to the ledge closest to him and drape your arms over it, regarding him with keen eyes.

“Hi,” you say. He swallows, the nerves returning as he tries desperately to not let his gaze fall below your neck.

“Hey,” he replies.

“There’s beer in the cooler. Grab me one?” You ask before ducking back beneath the surface. He can see you swim towards the edge of the pool that the loungers face. He grabs two beers as instructed, popping the tops with the bottle opener fixed to the lid of the cooler. You break the surface once more, swimming over to where he sits on the end of one loungers.

Joel passes you the beer and you tip it towards him in thanks before taking a deep pull, your lips wrapped around the lip of the bottle and distracting him monumentally.

“So, you’re the Joel Miller, huh?” You ask. “Tell me about yourself.”

The two of you talk for what feels like ages. He learns that you’re a software engineer and you work a typical 9-5 schedule, which is why he’s never caught you around the neighborhood before. You don’t like to be outdoors much, preferring reading and catching up on your Netflix shows. You have two brothers, both of whom are older than you and live on the opposite side of the country, but you visit them around Christmas. You love animals, but have major allergies so you settle for fleeting moments with the neighborhood strays and occasionally watching your best friend’s dog when she goes out of town.

He tells you about his work as a contractor, which he’s been doing since he was fresh out of high school and had no idea what to do with his life. He talks about his brother Tommy, how they work together on most projects and they want to start their own contracting business, but that’s a dream for another day. He mentions he’s more of a dog person than a cat person, especially because he has a grudge against the orange neighborhood cat that is still tearing up his flowerbeds.

Joel loves the way you laugh, bright and full bodied as you toss your head back and bring a hand to your chest each time. You talk with your hands a lot, which is funny because you keep letting go of the pool ledge and scrambling to grab it again when gravity pulls you down in the water. If he doesn’t give enough detail in an answer, you’re not shy about asking him for more information, like when he said his favorite color was blue.

“Okay, but what shade of blue?” You asked.

“Just…blue?” Joel asked, clearly not understanding your question.

You rolled your eyes. “Men. I like lavender. Not just purple. Purple is a range of shades.”

“I guess…navy?”

“Now you’re getting somewhere, big guy!”

The conversation lulls as you share your drinks in companionable silence. The Texas sun bears down on his back, his t-shirt sticking uncomfortably to his sweat slick skin. He bites the bullet and reaches behind his head to tug the damp fabric off, leaving him in just his swim trunks. He doesn’t miss the appreciative once-over you give him.

You extend a hand to him. “Help me out?””

Joel grasps your hand in his, marveling for a moment how small it is in his broad palm. He’s distracted enough that he doesn’t notice the michievous look on your face, or the way you plant your feet to the pool wall for leverage.

You give a sharp tug with both hands and he goes toppling into the pool with a surprised shout.

_________________

You’re laughing so hard you can barely catch your breath. The look on Joel’s face as you tugged him into the pool will be burned into your memory for years to come. You’d been waiting all afternoon for the man to take his shirt off, not only because you were admittedly dying to see what was hiding beneath the fabric, but also because you wanted exact a little neighborly revenge for stomping over to your house to tell you your music was too loud.

You’re feeling mighty accomplished, right up until you feel a hand wrap around your ankle and you get pulled beneath the surface with no warning.

You open your eyes, chlorine stinging them as you see Joel torpedo towards the shallow end of the pool. You give chase, breaking the surface with a gasp.

“You asshole–”

Joel cuts you off by wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging you close and tipping his head down to capture your lips with his. He kisses like a man starved and he tastes like sunshine and chlorine and the beer he’d been drinking as his tongue slides hungrily against yours. He uses his arm to press your body to his, but it’s not close enough.

You wrap your arms around his neck and lift your legs to circle his waist, your center grinding against his rapidly hardening length. Joel trails his hands up and down your back, stopping to grab rough handfuls of your ass as he groans against your mouth.

“Fuck,” he curses. “This little fuckin’ bikini has been torturin’ me all day.”

“Why don’t you just take it off then?” You offer. He pulls back to watch your face as his fingers find the strings of your bottoms beneath the water, giving both sides a quick tug until you feel the material fall away. His hand creeps up your back, pulling at the strings holding your top together around your back and neck until they, too, fall away.

Joel walks the two of you forward until your back collides with the rough stone of the pool wall. He presses a muscular thigh between your legs, boxing you in with his body. Your hips jerk at the sudden pressure and friction against your bare pussy, a moan slipping from your lips as Joel presses kisses to your jaw and neck, nipping the delicate skin with his teeth.

“You gotta be quiet, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your skin, the deep timbre of his voice making a shiver dance down your spine despite the Texas heat. “Those sounds are just for me, isn’t that right?”

You nod your head quickly and he rewards you with another toe curling kiss. Your hips rock against his thigh and he swallows every little whimper as his hands explore your body.

“Joel,” you whine. His fingers pinch and pull your nipples before he soothes them with sweet circles of his calloused thumb.

“What’s the matter, baby?” He asks. One of his hands slides across your thigh and your breath hitches as he brings it dangerously close to your pussy before trailing it back down. “You need somethin’?”

“Need you to touch me.”

“That right? You want me to take care of that pretty little pussy?”

“Mhm,” you hum. “Please.”

“So polite. Where’s all that attitude from earlier, hm?” Joel asks, sarcasm dripping from every word. You narrow your eyes at him.

“I can be rude, Miller. You want that instead?”

“Trust me, I know, but I think I like you better when you’re beggin’ for me,” he replies with a grin.

Joel’s hands grab onto your waist and he hoists you up onto the ledge. His broad shoulders press against the back of your thighs and his arms drape across your hips. He smiles at you, mouth tauntingly close to where you’re desperate for relief. You lean back on your elbows, the concrete warm against your bare skin and the sun washing over you.

“How about you show me those nice manners one more time?” He asks.

You grit your teeth. “Joel, I swear to god I will go inside and lock you out–”

Your threats are cut off by your startled moan as he licks through your folds, broad swipes of his tongue from your fluttering entrance to your aching clit. His sweet brown eyes are sinful as he looks up at you from between your thighs, devouring your pussy like his last meal. His nose rubs against your clit each time his tongue dips inside of you and you’re quickly reduced to a writhing mess.

You shift your weight to one arm and reach down with the other to tangle your fingers into his hair. He moans appreciatively against your cunt, the vibrations making you keen. When your hips start to fight against his hold, his lips wrap around your clit, sucking and rolling it with his tongue.

“Fuck, fuck, just like that,” you babble, trying to keep your voice down as you balance right on the edge of your orgasm. He hums again, tongue swirling over your clit until that final thread snaps and you free fall into oblivion, fingers curling tightly against his scalp and making him groan as he works you through your release.

Your limbs go boneless in the aftermath and you collapse against the ground, an arm over your eyes to block out the sun. You hear the sound of water sloshing before Joel lays beside you on his back, arms beneath his head. He turns to look at you, his bright smile making your heart flutter in your chest.

And when he extends an arm out for you to snuggle up against him, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, Joel Miller isn’t such a bad neighbor after all.

“What do you mean you thought I was the asshole?!” Joel asks indignantly as he leaves your bathroom. He’s got a towel held up around his waist and you’re finding it hard to concentrate on his words at this exact moment.

You’ve just finished showering together after your outdoor activities, where you returned his poolside favor with some attention of your own. Now, you’re laying on the bed in your own towel, tired from the sun and the sex.

You’ve also just admitted that you thought he was the worst neighbor. An asshole even. And now he’s looking at you like you’re insane.

“You stole my internet!” He exclaims.

“You can’t prove that,” you reply, maybe a bit too quickly. He raises an eyebrow at you, but you refuse to back down.

“Fine, but you put all those twigs and shit on my porch.”

“They were from your tree, I was simply…returning your property.”

“And the cats?” He crosses his arms. “Because of you, my flowerbeds look like shit and I’ve lost two planters.”

“Not my fault they can sense you’re the weak link. They’re asserting their dominance. Hiss at them or something,” you say with a shrug.

Joel gapes at you. “You can’t be serious.”

“Look, it’s water under the bridge now, right? What can I do to make it up to you?”

He’s silent for a moment before a mischievous grin spreads across his face.

“Where’s that toy you bought, sweetheart?”

_________________

Joel’s got you on your back, your wireless vibrator placed snugly inside of your and against your clit. You’re glaring at him because he’s stopped you from another orgasm. He’s quickly becoming obsessed with that fire in your eyes and the curl of your lip when you’re mad at him.

He presses a trail of kisses from your ankle to the inside of your thighs, nipping the sensitive skin close to your pussy just to hear you gasp. He continues across your abdomen and your breasts, stopping to lavish attention to each sensitive nipple, your back arching against him for more.

“Joel,” you whine, squirming beneath him. He stretches up to capture your lips in a kiss, your lips dragging across his in the most addicting way. His cock slides against the smooth skin of your hip, making him groan. With a flick of his thumb, he turns the toy back on. “Oh, fuck!”

“Want you to come for me this time, baby,” Joel tells you. “Then I want you to come all over my cock, okay?”

You nod, back bowing and muscles straining as your writhe against the vibrations. Joel sits back on his heels to watch you, the way your mouth is dropped open in a silent shout and how your eyes find his at the exact moment you start to come undone.

“Oh my god,” you pant as Joel swiftly removes the toy, the pink silicone shiny with your release. He tosses it to the side and presses his cock to your fluttering hole, sinking inside of you with a deep groan. Your walls are still clenching with the aftershocks of your orgasm as he begins to thrust, slow and deep.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so fuckin’ good,” he growls. He uses a hand to press one of your knees closer to your chest, his fingers wrapped tightly beneath your knee.

The change in angle gets him deeper and his pace grows faster in response to your moans. He can feel you start to pulse around him, each drag of his cock out of your cunt getting harder as your walls squeeze, desperately trying to keep him inside.

“Touch yourself,” Joel commands. “Wanna see you come for me again, pretty girl, come on.”

Your fingers find your clit, swirling through the mess of slick coating your folds. Your eyes are glued to him as you work yourself to the same rhythm of his thrusts. He knows you’re close when your eyes start to flutter, your head dropping back against the mattress and your thighs going tight against his hips.

“That’s it, good fuckin’ girl, just like that,” he growls as you come with a shout of his name. “Christ, you look so damn good.”

You blink at him, your eyes hazy and your smile languid as he chases his own release, using your sensitive cunt for his pleasure. When it gets to be too much, too close, he withdraws, fisting his cock with rough strokes until he comes in thick splashes against your belly.

He collapses on the bed beside you, both of your chests heaving with deep breaths. After a moment, he uses one of the towels to wipe you clean, tossing it to the floor. You glare at him.

“You better put that in the hamper later,” you admonish. He pulls you into his side.

“So, why exactly did you think I was an asshole neighbor?” He asks. To his surprise, you blush, mumbling something he can’t make out. “What?”

“I said because you beat me at the Halloween decorating contest.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes. You have the twelve foot skeleton and I’m jealous.”

“I’ll get you as many skeletons as you want,” Joel laughs. You smile at him.

“Sounds good to me, big guy.”

_________________

The following Halloween, there are two twelve foot skeletons in the neighborhood, and they live right next door to each other.

Joel Miller taglist:

@huffle-punk @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727 @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfelll @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname @morgaussy @letsgroovetonighttt @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @brilliantopposite187 @mattmurdock1021 @str84pedro @justsomeoneovertherainbow @loquaciousferret @milly-louise @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @kirsteng42 @caatheeriinee07 @eternallyvenus @midnightswithdearkatytspb @evyiione @leeeesahhh @tloubarbie @afterglowsb-tch13 @loveliestofthoughts @theviewfromtheritz @brittmb115 @uncassettodiricordi @pedritosgfreal @adriennemichelle98 @mxtokko @gingersince97 @switchbladedreamz @casa-boiardi @tonysterco @rvjaa @ladymunson @sexpoisoned @trisaratops-mcgee @decemberdolly @spookyemorockbabe @reader-without-a-story @katmoonz @simping-soldat @mswarriorbabe80 @orphanbird95 @shatteredbaby @tusk89 @gingersince97 @mssbridgerton @internetobsessed1234-blog @sloanexx @manazo @bigboiseason123 @bean-is-reading @darlingpedro @silkiers @pascals-cat @bbyanarchist @therealcap @pedrosgrogu @dreamingofdaddydin

Want more Joel Miller? Check out my masterlist.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #no use of y/n #joel tlou #joel x reader #pre outbreak!joel #enemies to lovers #hot neighbor

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storiesfromafan · 3 months ago

Text

Return - Buck x Reader

A/N: I have posted a story just about every day, so I had to keep it up for today. I return with the last part, which has a happy ending haha.

I've been thinking of doing a full story or a series of one-shots with the reader being one of the crew that works on the planes, and of course paired with Buck haha. See how I go...

Previous Parts: Pt 1 Rumours, Pt 2 MIA

Tag list: @strayrockette @redwitchbitch1

Being a prisoner of war was not something Buck had wanted, but he would take it over death. Though it felt like death at times. Yet it put a lot of things into perspective. What would be common necessaries, were a luxury now. Taking food for granted. Or having a conversation with someone he would avoid or them avoiding him, now something he longed for. Such as a conversation with you.

It was funny how you came to mind a fair bit since he was brought here. And Marge was an afterthought. Buck spent his sleepless nights thinking, and with it he started to realise how he felt for you. How he longed for your smile and company. How he racked his memories of you, trying to recall your eyes, your lips and your warmth. When he did sleep he dreamt of you, those dreams sometimes a reflection on memories together.

Yet guilt crept up on him, slowly eating its way at him. For he should be longing for his fiancé, the women he made a promise to before leaving for this war. And in a way he did, but no were as near as he did of you. The internal battle he was having was taking its toll. Buck felt drained and exhausted, but that was also due to the conditions of living in the camp.

But hope perked up in him. It was the day a bunch of new captured men were brought into camp. Standing around with the few men he had allied with, the call of Bucky caught his ears but he didn’t think much of it. But when it gained more men calling Bucky did hope rise in Buck. Pushing his way to the fence, hearing his friend ask where he was, Buck smiled.

“John Egan. Your two o’clock” he called, Bucky turning around without a second thought. “what took you so long?” Buck's smile widening, relief to see his friend.

Seeing Buck, it gave Bucky not only relief his friend was a live, but a sense they could make it out of here alive. Upon reuniting on the inside together, Buck wasted no time showing Bucky around, explaining it all to him. How he got there, what it’s like, how things were done and how they did things. Bucky was brought in without a second thought, and their time there was hard, exhausting and it messed with his mind, along with every other man there.

There were ups and downs. But one thing that kept them going was the will to get out and back home, along with the mail they could get. Today’s mail came in and to Buck's surprise, he had gotten a letter from Marge. Of course Bucky made a comment, saying Marge in a drawl and small chuckle. Buck forced a small chuckle, not always enjoying his friends jest.

Staring at the letter in his hand, that guilt like led in the pit of his stomach came back. Part of him would rather this letter be from you. In your delicate cursive. Words relaying your thoughts and feelings, your wishes of safety and return. But he wasn’t so lucky. Deciding it was time to see what Marge had to say, Buck opened the envelope and pulled out the few sheets of paper. Taking a seat on the bottom of the bunk, Buck read over the words. With every word, his brow furrows.

The last few sentences are what cleared up this letter, a dear John letter. I’m not sure what to say Buck. Since you’ve left it’s been hard, I’ve been struggling. And I did my best, writing you and holding hope. But the last five months I have been seeing another man, and my affections have grown for him. Please understand and forgive me, I can’t marry you when you return. It finished with wishing him well and to accept her apologies. Enclosed, Marge had put the ring he’d given her.

“What does Marge have to say?” Questioned Bucky with a smile. “How much she misses you and can’t wait till your home?”

Buck sat there quiet for a moment, looking at the ring. And as much as he should be devastated, a part of him was sad, yet he felt relief. That guilt lifting a good amount. Marge had spared him from breaking her heart, by her thinking she’d break his.

“Actually, she said she met someone else and has feelings for them" Buck said calmly. “She apologized and returned the ring". Between his thumb and pointer was the ring, showing it off to the men around him.

The room fell silent. No man knew what to say to that. What could they say? Other then apologise themselves, and tell him there were plenty of fish in the sea? For Buck, there was only one fish he wanted. And she had pushed him away.

“I guess that means you can pursue (Y/N) without any worry or guilt now" Bucky stated, breaking the silence.

Buck's eyes shot to his friend, seeing the knowing smile upon Bucky's face. He wondered what his friend knew exactly. As Buck thought he'd been smart and kept up a good poker face.

Getting up, Bucky crossed the room before taking a seat next to Buck. “You don't think I didn't notice you both getting close back on base? And when the rumours started, she distanced herself. So I figured her affections for you” Bucky stated matter-of-fact. “Then when you came back from talking to her, you looked pretty down. Factor in Marge just dumping you, and you're not as upset as you should be, I know how you feel back (Y/N)”.

Bucky smiled at the surprised face on his friend. Buck was stumped by the words just spoken to him. Amazed that Bucky could read him like he did. Moving to encase the ring in his palm, Buck folded the letter and put it back in the envelop. Followed by the ring, and in his pocket it went.

“She said to forget our talk happened...” Buck said softly.

Clapping Buck on the arm gently, Bucky said “I doubt that. If you'd seen how upset she was after hearing your plane had gone down...” Flashbacks ran across Bucky's mind, of you but also of himself and how you both handled the news.

Now Buck was invested, looking to the man beside him with concern. “H-how was she?”

Bucky sighed. “I was the one to tell her, just as she came out from working on the injured men. She looked so tired, and I...I had to burst her bubble. I could see...how devastated she was. I had to help her take a seat before she fell over".

Buck took a deep breathe, before shakily let it out.

“Also, I had to escort her back to her room too, so she could clean up. I know she cried, and had been for some time...as she found me later” – Bucky deciding to leave out his drinking – “well, I could see that she had been. We spent most of the night talking. I told her so many stories" he chuckled.

Buck softly laughed. “Hopefully nothing embarrassing about me".

Bucky laughed, “all the embarrassing ones".

Silence fell between them both. Various men in the room had either left or were busying themselves, not wanting to intrude on the moment. Buck's mind reeling from knowing that his plane going down, how you thought him dead, had upset you so. His chest hurting at the thought of you crying for him. But he hoped somehow news got back, and you knew he, and Bucky, were alive and were in a camp.

A small smile formed on Buck’s lips. “Why doesn’t that surprise me. You always did like to broadcast my worst moments".

It eased a bit of the sad tension. From there the conversation shifted to other matters. But in the back of Buck’s mind was you. And the renewed fire to get out of this camp and back to base, to see you and tell you everything.

Days turned to weeks, weeks to months. And you were still doing your part at the base. All the while wondering what happened to both Buck's. At first you were upset loosing them both, for days you were beside yourself over it. Then when you went back to working, you couldn’t help the tears that would come at random times, or when you were patching up and looking after the injured. But everyone understood, for they had been where you were.

Then you had a sliver of hope when there was rumours both Buck’s were in a POW camp. But without any solid proof, you were back to square one. Pilots came and go, either on their own accord or in a box. The amount of death was starting to get to you. Feeling a piece of you chip away with every man that didn’t make it. But you were hanging in the best you could, the need to do your part for the war drilled into you.

Periodically over eighteen months, the nurses that started the rumours warmed up to you, or guilt was eating at them. Trying to get you to join them in town for drinks, or the celebrations of the pilots. And you should have gone, to blow off some steam from all the work you had been doing. But you chose to remain separate from them all. Taking solace in the solitude. And with that reflecting on the happy memories with the two majors. A memory you were fond of was the celebrations where Bucky got up, after Buck trying to keep him in check, to sing and dance.

~~~~~

You laughed at the Major while remaining in the seat next to Buck, who was shaking his head while trying to hide a smile. Bucky was cocky, putting on a show for all. But when he turned his sights on you, you wish you could have made a run for it. Before you knew what was happening, Bucky had crossed back over to you, taking a hold of your hands and pulled you up.

“What are you doing Bucky?” You recall Buck questioning the dark haired male that had a hold of you.

“No pretty young woman should be sitting" Bucky retorted. “So, I’m going to dance with (Y/N). As you’re so true to Marge. Who would be understanding if you danced with a friend. But I’ll do it".

With that Bucky dragged you to the dance floor. In a fluster you recall telling him you were a bad dancer, but he was a good sport. And danced with you none the less. You’d never laughed so much, even when making a mistake. Bucky’s kind and funny words put you at ease. And before you knew it, he had you moving around the dance floor with a small ounce of grace.

You looked over to Buck, you cheeks hurting from the smile on your face. He was watching you both, a small smile upon his face. His eyes shining with warmth and laughter. You rolled your eyes with a chuckle. Which got Buck to softly laugh. You liked his eyes on you, enjoyed being his focus.

“Now, now" tutted Bucky. “I'm your dance partner, focus on me please”. His tone was light and playful.

You turned your focus back to Bucky, who said a quick good before sweeping you around the room some more. The Major was nice and playful, and a part of you could tell he was trying to flirt with you. But you didn't take his advances. And Bucky wasn't too hurt, in fact he knew he had a friend in you from it. The first women to turn his charms down.

Finally getting free of Bucky and his need to be himself. You returned to Buck in a laugh, as you fell into the seat next to him. You were warm from the dancing, and slightly out of breath. Buck looked at you with amusement.

“Don't say a word" you said with a sigh. “I didn't get a choice, Bucky held me captive!”

Buck laughed, his voice tickling your ears by how rough it was. “That's John" was all he said.

“Yes, as I have just learned" you laughed. “Was what Bucky said true? How you don't dance with any women because of your fiancé?”

He nodded. “Yes, she's the one and only".

You felt a little jealous of this woman. A woman who could get a man to be faithful to her, and doing so during a war. You envied her for having a good man like Buck. That was when you started to have a crush on him.

~~~~~

It was a surprise when the number of injured lessened through your doors. And in time you understood why. It looked like the War was coming to an end, which meant soon you'd be home. And all this would be a distant memory. You sighed with that knowledge. And slowly, you and the other nurses began to clean up and pack up what wasn't needed so much.

Yet there was a commotion outside – men calling out names and vehicles - that grabbed yours and the nurses attention. They took off, while you stayed to finish what you were doing. You had an idea it had to be returning men from the POW camps. The noise outside didn't seem to die down. So once you were done, you decided to see what the fuss was about.

Stepping outside you could see the men crowding around, happy and joyous for those that had made it back. Grateful for more men to be alive then lost out there. Whipping your hands on your apron, you looked around. Part of you hoping to see either or both of the Buck's. And then you spotted one.

He looked relieved, yet exhausted, with faint bruises and cuts. His dark hair was messy from either his hat or the ride back into base. A small amount of comfort coming to you upon seeing Bucky. Yet, that pit in your stomach was back, at no sign of Buck.

As if sensing your gaze, Bucky turned in your direction. Taking a moment for him to register your form from the crowd. A bright smile crossed his devilish face, before he left the men he had been talking too and came right over to you. Without a thought, Bucky pulled you into a tight hug. Which you smiled upon feeling that he was actually there. A few tears rising in your eyes, a tear or two escaping and making their way down your cheeks.

You pulled back and looked over Bucky's face and torso. “You're really back, and in one piece".

He laughed and nodded. “Yeah I am. Should see the other guys".

You laughed, a real laugh in what felt for like forever. “I could imagine". Then you grew quiet, wanting to ask the question that was sitting on your tongue. Was Buck with you?

Bucky looked off to the side, a small humorous smile sliding across his lips. “I think someone wants to say hello...”

Confusion washed over your face at his words. But when he released you, turning you in the direction he had been looking, you got your answer. A couple of meters away was Buck. And he didn't look any different to what you remembered. Minus the exhaustion, need of three balanced meals for a while, and scars on his cheeks. Finally that pit in your stomach filled, finally having him back, you felt relieved.

Having laid eyes on you as Bucky held you at arms length, you both swapping words. The smile on your face warming Buck, glad to know you were glad to see his friend. And this was the moment Buck suddenly didn't know what he would say to you, let alone how you would react to seeing him.

When Bucky noticed him, he smiled before looking back to you. And before Buck knew what was happening, you were facing him. Recognition flashed in your eyes, and then he watched how you seemed to relax. He could tell you were relieved he was back, that they were both back.

Before he could stop himself, Buck took a step forward. Then another and another, slowly at first. Until he couldn't wait any longer, and with a blink he was standing before you. He looked down at you, while you looked up at him, only a ruler size gap between you both. Now up close, Buck noted how pale you looked and tired you seemed. But you were still strong. You just needed a good night sleep, and until the War was officially over, you would have to wait.

Buck cleared his throat. “Hi...” was the best he could start with.

You released the breath you were holding, it coming out shakily. “H-hi...”

All the words he wanted to say, none would make it to his tongue for him to say. So Buck did the only thing he could do. Grabbing your arms, Buck pulled you to him, against him. His arms coming to wrap around you as he held you closely. He had imagined this moment, longed for it. And finally it was real, you before him and him holding you dearly. Resting his cheek against your head, Buck let out a sigh in content. Finally feeling repose, feeling safe.

You were shocked. Not believing Buck was hugging you, holding you tightly like a life line. Buck had never looked at another woman, let one got this close. Yet he had instigated this. Confusion filled you. Unsure what was happening. Maybe he was glad to see a friendly face after what he must have gone through.

“I am so happy to see you" Buck whispered, wanting just you to hear him. “How I have waited for this moment...”

You pulled back, looking at his face with sadness. “Don't say that...don't say what you don't mean...”

Leaning in, Buck pressed his forehead against your own. “I wouldn't have said it, if I didn't mean it...and I meant every word of it (Y/N)”.

Your stomach fluttered at his admission, as well as hearing your name leaving his lips. Lips you wanted so badly to kiss. Even after so much time apart. “W-what about Marge?” You questioned softly.

Buck sighed. Taking a moment to sort through his thoughts before voicing them. “Well...you see, she wrote me while I was...you know. And she has met someone else...so she returned my ring". To prove a point, Buck pulled out the engagement ring. “So, I guess I'm unattached".

As his words, and the ring, sunk in you slowly nodded your head. “Oh...I-I’m so sorry Buck".

He softly groaned hearing his nickname slip from your lips. It was music to his ears, and spurred him on for what was to come. “Don't be, because I can now do this".

Swiftly he moved in, lips capturing your own in a tender, but passionate kiss. Surprised was an understatement. For Major Gale ‘Buck’ Cleven was kissing you, and in front of anyone who looked. Yet, part of you didn't care. You began to relax, eyes closing as you took in that you were kissing the one person you had wanted to see since his plane went down. The person you missed terribly, and spent nights crying for. For the person you prayed for to return to you. And he did.

Reluctantly Buck pulled back, his forehead resting against yours again. He watched as you slowly opened your eyes, a glossed over look in them. When your eyes met his baby blues, he hoped you could see everything he wanted you to know in them. Because he could see it in yours; the joy, longing and contentment.

“Buck...” you said so soft, that he could just hear it. “W-why did you do that?”

He chuckled deeply. “Ain't it obvious?” you slightly shook your head. “I am crazy about you. Have been for longer then I could admit. I love you (Y/N)”.

Those words, all of them, set your heart soaring. As tears of joy rose in your eyes. This is what you had hoped for upon Buck’s return. You had wanted him to return your feelings, and sweep you off your feet. You got half of your wish. Maybe, if you marry, you'd finally be swept off your feet.

You sighed happily. “I love you so much Gale". And you leant in for another kiss. This one longer then the last. Which neither of you were against. Finally he had come back to you.

#gale cleven x you #gale cleven x reader #gale buck cleven #buck x reader #austin butler x reader

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out-there-tmblr · 11 days ago

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Young zaundads wip (3)

***

Vander wakes up hopeful the next morning. He washes his face and gets dressed quickly, turning up early to the mess hall. He gets coffee and a big breakfast, and takes a table near the counter so he can watch the queue.

Felicia comes in, then Benzo and Connol, and a few others he knows. The room slowly fills up with the low grumbling of mornings. The warning bell sounds, signalling twenty minutes until shifts start, but there's still no sign of yesterday's mystery saviour.

"What's up with you?" Felicia asks as they sign out hard hats and gauntlets from the store room.

"I was trying to find someone."

"Who?"

"I don't know his name," Vander says, pulling his hat on.

"But you need to find him? Does he owe you money?"

"Nothing like that." Vander looks around as they join the stream of people heading into the mine. He's surrounded by faces but not the particular face he's looking for. "He stopped me from getting run over by a cart. I figure I owe him a drink at least."

"What's he look like?"

"About your height. Dark hair. Blue eyes."

Felicia gives him a doubtful look. "That doesn't narrow it down much."

"He was–" Vander nearly says 'pretty' but Felicia would only tease him about it. "About our age. Under twenty."

Felicia shrugs at him as they clock in for the day. "Maybe you'll see him at dinner?"

He doesn't. Which is weird. There's only two places to get food in the camp: the mess hall and the company store. The company store doesn't sell much food and it's all overpriced: biscuits, jerky, sweet jellies and harsh tobacco. That's why everyone eats at the mess hall. Everyone except his mystery guy.

By the third night of watching the crowd, even Benzo's noticed. "Who are you actually looking for?"

"He doesn't know," Felicia chimes in. "Doesn't know his name. Just saw him in the mines and… wants to know him much better."

Vander does his best to ignore the suggestion in her tone. Connol and Benzo bray like donkeys.

"Is this the one with the eyes?" Connol asks. "The striking blue eyes?"

That's what Vander gets for talking to his friends at the end of night, after he's had a few too many drinks. Mockery. Heartless mockery.

***

It annoys Vander that he can't find this guy. Felicia suggests trying to draw him, so they know who he's looking for, but Vander's artistic talents stop at stickmen. Connol asks what they talked about, to make such an impression, but it was only a few sentences.

"He told me if the tunnel starts rumbling above me to run," Vander says and Connol shrugs at Benzo.

"That's common advice," Benzo says. "Common sense, really."

"You're sure he definitely exists, right?" Connol asks, and Vander glares at him.

In the end, Vander decides to stake out the courtyard. It's the last day of the month, the day when two Piltie bookkeepers in fussy white suits come down to the mine with a cash box and a dozen enforcers. It's the one day a month when the mine works on a skeleton crew while the miners line up to withdraw some of those company credits in silver and bronze.

Plenty of coin will change hands today. Debts repaid, gambling markers settled. Some have family staying outside the city and will take the coin to them. Some will go up to the riverside, eat fresh fish tonight. Babette and her girls will set up tents outside the fence line, camp for a week while miners can pay for their company.

It's a long line but it's full of hopeful chatter, everyone sharing their big plans for their hard earned money. Vander sits in the courtyard, elbows on his knees and chin in his hands, and watches them all. The line seems endless, slowly trudging forward as the hours pass. Eventually it starts to dwindle to only a dozen people left, and still, no sign of the guy. Vander joins the end of the queue and thinks as he waits.

The only miners who don't line up for coin are the ones working. There's always someone who'd rather have an extra day's pay than bronze in their pocket. So once Vander's signed for his redeemed credits and safely tucked the silver away, he wanders over to the mouth of the mine and waits for the shift end bell to sound.

Only a small crowd walks out of the mine. It's easy to spot who he's looking for.

"Hey!" Vander calls out, ducking around people to get closer.

It's maybe a bit too loud because he stops walking and those blue eyes narrow up at him. "What do you want?"

It's a very fine face: high, lean cheekbones and a small chin, sharp nose and delicate mouth, and still, those blue eyes are the prettiest he's ever seen.

"I wanted to say hi."

"Mission accomplished." Those blue eyes glance from side to side, like he's checking for an ambush.

"I'm Vander. I wanted to thank you for the other day. For saving my life from that cart."

"You wouldn't have died. Broken ribs. Broken leg, maybe, but I didn't save your life."

"I wanted to thank you anyway. Buy you a drink? Or maybe dinner?" Vander asks, noticing how skinny the guy is. Narrow shoulders and long, lean thighs. A waist so small Vander could probably wrap his hands around it and have his fingers meet.

"Ah," he says and Vander drags his gaze back to the man's face. "Perhaps you should visit Babette's. If you can spare that much, she's bound to have some eager company for you."

With that, he turns and starts walking over to the store rooms to return his gear. Vander blinks a few times and then scurries to catch up. "You didn't tell me your name."

"You didn't ask," he says over his shoulder. "It's Silco."

Vander grins. "Was that a no to dinner?"

"I'm happy to eat," Silco replies. "But if you wanted some action tonight, Babette's is a much better investment."

"I'd rather have your company," Vander says and Silco only looks suspicious.

"Why?"

"I think you're interesting." Vander smiles but Silco still looks unconvinced. "Come on, I've spent days trying to find you. Let me buy you dinner."

Silco rocks back on his feet, head tilted as he watches Vander. "Why didn't you just come down to level three?"

"What?"

"I knew the cart lines well enough to see you were standing on them. Therefore I must be familiar with that shaft," Silco explains. "Why not come down to level three to ask about me?"

It makes sense once it's explained like that. "Didn't occur to me."

"So you decided to wait outside the mine to find me?"

"No," Vander admits, "I watched the cash box line all morning."

***

#zaundads #my current wip

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angelwings-crossbowstrings · 1 year ago

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Whumptober 2023

No. 4 Shock | No. 7 “Can You Hear Me?”

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader (Platonic/Early Relationship)

Setting: Post farm / Pre prison

Warnings: Electric shock, blood, CPR

“M’gonna check the fence.”

“I’ll get the generator.”

It was a safe enough place to make camp. It was freezing, snow coming down in large flakes to stick to the couple of inches already on the ground. Being inside a building was already a blessing but with a fence around it? You couldn’t ask for more!

The few vehicles left to your group were unloaded, everyone else was inside getting set up. You opted to stay close to Daryl, as you often did. Sometimes, he seemed annoyed. Other times, indifferent. But since the fall of the farm, you found that he didn’t seem to mind your company. Hell, he had even sought you out the nights you had watch. Conversation was always light, but the silence in between became comfortable. The man didn’t sleep much, but when he did, he opted to sleep close to the group so that he was near you.

It wasn’t until he started putting his arm around you on cold nights, pulling you back against his chest, that you began to question exactly where you stood with him. Friendship was one thing. That was an entirely different animal. Not that you were opposed. Simply confused. Even more so, when it became a common occurrence.

There wasn’t much you could do right now to help. Staying out of the way, hovering somewhere between Rick and the archer, was probably the best option. You began to check out the treeline, eyes peeled for any signs of danger, living or dead. Thankfully, it was quiet. You felt like you were waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Glancing down at Daryl, he was pulling on sections of the fence, checking their integrity. It seemed like a kind of heavy wire, not chainlink. If it kept out walkers and unsavory characters for the night, it could have been made of playdough for all you cared.

A glance back to where Rick worked found him studying the generator. There was barely enough light of day left for him to see without a flashlight. Maybe you should offer yours. You let the idea move about uselessly in your head while your eyes curiously followed some of the cables from behind the generator. Strange. What was out here that needed power?

The generator was sputtering when you found the metal clips at the end, your brow furrowed. They were attached to the fence. That didn’t make— ‘Oh, shit!’

Y/N, meet other shoe.

“Daryl, let go!” You cried as the noise from the generator spurred to life, your eyes filled with horror just as the archer turned his head toward your call, both hands on the wire. There was a loud sound, like one of those lights meant to fry mosquitos but amplified. Your feet were already moving before Daryl had hit the ground, tendrils of smoke rising from his clothes.

“Oh my god, Daryl! Daryl, can you hear me?” His eyes were closed. Small streams of red filtered from his nose and— oh, god — his ears. His palms were burned, charred and smoking from his grip on the fence, while smaller burns were scattered across parts of his skin that you could see. You didn’t know if you should touch him. Your knowledge of anything medical was limited to smacking someone on the back if they were choking. What help could you be now? “Rick!”

The ex-sheriff was already stumbling onto his knees beside you, nervously assessing the situation. You heard the door open, the others obviously hearing your cries. “What’s going on?” Hershel. Yes! Yes, you needed Hershel!

“Fence. Daryl. Shocked.” You stammered, not making much sense but the old man was jogging over anyway.

“He’s not breathing.” Rick muttered, mostly to himself, with a haunted, panicked glaze over his eyes that you were slowly coming to know very well. He lifted Daryl to remove the crossbow from his back. It’s a wonder the thing wasn’t broken from the impact. Maybe it was. Hershel and Rick moved as if they could read each other’s thoughts. The veterinarian began chest compressions, halting only long enough for Rick to force air into the archer’s lungs with a trembling hand pinching his nose shut.

Everyone had moved closer but kept distance to let the men do what was needed. Except Carol. Through her own tears, she wrapped her arms around your shoulders and pulled you to your feet.

“No.” You mumbled quietly at first, shaking your head before pulling against her to get back to Daryl’s side. “No! Daryl! Daryl!”

“They’re trying to help him!” The older woman reasoned, spinning you so that your cheek was pressed against the front of her shoulder. You could barely see through your tears but Rick was shouting in frustration, and Hershel kept shaking his head. “It’s okay.” Carol whispered. Her fingers carded through your hair but offered little comfort.

“Daryl.” You whimpered, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.

A loud, wheezing inhale came from the ground, followed by a series of coughs. It was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard.

“Glad you’re back,” you heard Rick practically gasp the words, his tense posture relaxing a little. Hershel slumped in exhaustion but it gave you a glimpse of Daryl. He was pale, drawing in quick breaths, and had yet to move.

“Think… fence s’good.”

In all your time with your little apocalypse family, you had never seen Daryl sleep as deeply as he was now. It had only been a few hours since the incident, but the image of him, unmoving, was trapped at the forefront of your mind. Everyone was asleep, aside from T-Dog being on watch by the door. The room was warm, the small fireplace enough to keep a little heat going even as the flames burned lower.

You sat next to where they had placed the archer, giving him the only bed in the building. He protested that Lori should have it, of course, being pregnant and all, but even she had insisted. Exhausted from the trauma, he had fallen asleep soon after Hershel had done his initial checks for early signs of nerve damage or any heart abnormalities. His palms were wrapped heavily, having received the worst of the burns. Dried blood was still beneath his nose and ears, but that could be dealt with later. Gauze covered the other burns on his arms and neck. You were instructed on how to check his pulse and what to watch for while he rested.

“Ya ain’t tired?”

Your eyes had been glued to the rise and fall of his chest, so engrossed that you hadn’t noticed his eyes open. Those pretty, pretty blue eyes.

“No, I’m, uh…I’m good.” You sniffled and moved forward to the edge of the chair, reaching for his wrist. He flinched but didn’t pull back as he would have only a few months before. “Just checking your pulse.” He gave an almost imperceptible nod, eyes slipping closed. Satisfied, you sat back and rubbed a hand over your face. You really were exhausted but letting someone else watch over him wasn’t an option.

“Y’alrigh’?” His eyes were still closed. He must’ve picked up on your uneven breaths or the tap of your foot. Clever jerk.

“Yeah, I’m fine. How are you feeling?”

“Like a human Pop-tart.” He turned his head toward you, eyelids heavy and expression pinched. He was in pain, though he’d never admit it. Hershel had left some Tylenol but you’d have to wrestle him to get him to take it.

Still…

“Hershel left—”

“Don’ need it.”

“Of course you don’t.” You pursed your lips and crossed your arms. “Go back to sleep.”

“Ya need ta sleep too, y’know.”

“I have to keep an eye on your heartrate.”

He hummed, eyes opening a little wider. Without warning he pushed himself up onto his elbows with a wince and moved to the opposite side of the bed, collapsing back onto the pillow.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You whisper yelled. You hoped he could see your irritation in the glare you were giving him since you couldn’t verbally express it at the moment.

“Shuddup an’ get in.” Daryl gave a jerk of his chin toward the now empty space in front of you.

“Daryl, I need to—”

“I gotcha covered. Jus’ get in, damnit.” With an annoyed huff, you toed off your boots and climbed under the blanket, flopping onto your side to face him. “Now c’mere.” The archer stretched out the arm closest to you in invitation. You hesitated. Sure, you’d slept next to him before but he was behind you, keeping you warm. This was…not that. “C’mon, ain’t got all night.” Gulping audibly, you scooted closer, gently laying your head against the front of his shoulder. His arm came around from behind you to rest against your side.

“Won’t this irritate those burns?”

“Nah, s’fine. Gimme yer hand.” You lifted your hand from where you had it sheltered in front of you and allowed him to gently grab your wrist with his fingertips. He was carefully avoiding his wrapped palm coming into contact. Your hand was placed, palm down, against his chest, his fingers pressing it flat. “There. Monitor away an’ get some sleep.” His heart thudded strongly at a regular pace, the feel of it soothing. You found yourself smiling at this sweet gesture, only to look up and be met with his raised brow.

“You’re such an ass. Go to sleep.”

“You firs’.”

“Fine.” A beat of silence. “Think I’ll dream about Rick kissing you again? That was kinda hot.”

“Stop.”

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