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seangardnerxiv · 2 months ago

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Shadow and Maria's Complex Relationship

FOR DISCLOSURE: this thread is going to be discussing the complexities of Shadow and Maria’s relationship based on many different factors. Though I will be including the romantic interpretation (NOT a sexual one – I do not support nor condone sexualizing these two, nor most of the characters in Sonic, as they are almost all minors) as a potential, I will not be arguing to assign a definite label to their relationship – I will, in fact, be doing exactly the opposite (I am also not interested in engaging in shipping discourse over Sonic the Hedgehog characters). I would simply like to disclose that that will be discussed in case the topic upsets you and you would prefer to stop reading now. I accept this post may not be received well by some.

SPOILERS FOR SONIC X SHADOW GENERATIONS

So I've had to break out my Tumblr for this - my usual haunt is Twitter/Bluesky, but those don't really allow for longform posts. This is also a major departure from my usual FFXIV posting, so apologies to anyone who follows me for that.

Sonic x Shadow Generations recently dropped, alongside the short animations “Dark Beginnings” as well as the (non-canonical) manga “The Jet Black Hedgehog: Shadow the Hedgehog.” With it, discourse surrounding Shadow and Maria’s relationship has kicked up again, largely in two parties – that Shadow and Maria held a sibling relationship, or that Shadow and Maria held romantic feelings for one another (some people have also argued that Shadow is her uncle, or Maria is his mother, but I won’t be discussing those views). There are arguments for both drawn from a variety of sources – I will do my best to present both (if there are others I've missed, please feel free to comment and I will add them).

For siblings:

This Twitter post of artwork for Dark Beginnings has the following alt text: “Shadow and Maria reach out for one another in an infinite abyss (as long-lost siblings would) with the Moon and the Space Colony ARK in the background."

The manual for Shadow the Hedgehog (2005) describes Maria as “like a sister to Shadow.” I have also seen another screenshot of a different manual that states that Shadow as "like a brother to Maria," but I've been unable to find which manual it is. (EDIT: It’s a Prima Games manual, not written by Sega)

Gerald refers to Shadow as “son” during the climax of SxSG.

For romantic:

Maria saying “I love you” in the Japanese version of SxSG uses the kanji “ai shiteru,” whilst her “I love you” in the Japanese version of the manga uses “daisuki.” Whilst it can be used for familial relations, it is apparently very uncommon for both of these to be used outside of romantic intent.

Shiro Maekawa – the original creator of Shadow and Maria – based them (or at least parts of them) off of a romance manga known as “Please Save My Earth” (with Maria sharing the Japanese voice actress for the female lead from the anime), and has frequently supported them together, often retweeting romantic art and posts of Shadow and Maria.

In a recent interview from Sega, Maria touching Shadow’s face in Dark Beginnings was equated to Beauty and the Beast.

For Tanabata – a Japanese festival celebrating the meeting of the deities Orihime and Hikoboshi, and the separation of them as lovers – Sonic Channel posted artwork of Shadow and Maria reading the story beneath the stars. Sonic Channel has also published fanart for Valentine’s Day relating to Shadow and Maria (although they publish a lot of fanart).

Before I go any further, when the topic of Shadow and Maria in a romantic lens comes up, many of the same criticisms arise that I do not believe are fairly levied – namely accusations regarding their age, species, and familial ties. I would like to address – and debunk – these three before we go any further. Keep in mind while you read these – this is not meant to convince you that their relationship was one thing over another, but only to provide validity to a subjective point of view I feel is unfairly stigmatized.

“It’s incest because Shadow is Maria’s brother/uncle(?).”

While there were notions of family stated by both Maria and Gerald, Shadow was grown in a tube with alien DNA and has zero blood relation to the Robotnik family. Whilst there are abstract labels of “like a sister” or “sibling coding” that are only ever applied in a meta sense, neither of them define their relationship in such a way within the lens of the universe. And it is not as if the topic never arises - in Shadow Generations, Maria herself likens young Abraham Tower as akin to her little brother, but she makes no such distinction with Shadow.

“Sibling coding” is ultimately a nothing statement, and unless a proper adoption is made, it does not magically turn romantic feelings towards the two involved into incest. Frames of reference are often informed by what young people are familiar with, and they sometimes lack the proper tools to acknowledge that their feelings towards each other are more complex than they first believe - to say that this is something that potentially occurred with Shadow and Maria is not outlandish, and not a concept unique to Sonic as a series.

Similar examples to this include Clive and Jill from Final Fantasy XVI (Jill is accepted into the Rosfield household and raised alongside Clive and his brother, only to later enter a romantic relationship with him as an adult), Nero and Kyrie from Devil May Cry (Nero is fostered by Kyrie's family and considers Kyrie a sister initially, only for her to become his love interest as adults) and Sidon and Yona from The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom (Sidon grows up perceiving Yona as a sister, only to realize his feelings for her are more complex later on). None of these are incestuous relationships, nor is Shadow and Maria’s were it to be romantic.

“It’s bestiality because Shadow is an animal.”

Bestiality is applicable to regular animals that do not hold human sentience of thought, as they are unable to consent to a relationship, like a dog or cat. Shadow is not this, nor are any of the anthropomorphic characters within the Sonic games - were you to change the anthropomorphic animals in Sonic into humans, basically nothing about the series' content would change. All of them are completely sound-minded beings that are essentially just people who look different. Shadow is not Maria’s pet, he is her fully sentient friend that holds the same degree of thought as she does – given that Shadow’s entire arc is about finding his purpose in life, degrading him to simply a lab animal rather than acknowledging he is a person defeats that entire arc (something the manga also touches upon).

A lot of people also cite Sonic and Elise from Sonic ‘06 (namely the scene where Elise kisses the deceased Sonic) as a reason why Shadow and Maria should not be done - while I think it’s valid if you didn’t like watching a human girl kissing Sonic the Hedgehog, I maintain that a good chunk of that disdain stemmed from two major reasons:

Elise was very poorly characterized in her game. She existed to constantly get kidnapped and be saved by Sonic, and so both the relationship and the kiss came off more like pandering than something earned.

Sonic '06 had a bizarrely realistic artstyle for the human characters, whilst all of the animal characters retained their cartoonish appearances. This clash of artstyles looked its worst when Elise kissed Sonic at the game's climax.

Maria, however, does not fall into these pitfalls. She does not exist to be purely a love interest for Shadow - she’s certainly not someone for him to save, as the entire inciting event of Shadow's character is his inability to save her when she saves him.

For a frame of reference, Shadow is more akin to an alien from Star Wars – a setting where humans also exist. It is not bestiality for a Human to hold a relationship with a Twi’lek, as both races are fully anthropomorphic and sentient. On a similar note, Beauty and the Beast is not considered bestiality either, even though the Beast bears obvious animalistic traits. Some people have also entertained the notion of Rouge and Topaz from Sonic X, even though the latter is human. This is all the same principle, and none of it is bestiality.

“It’s creepy because Maria is young.”

Shadow – while said to be ageless – is not an adult, and to imply that he is one is a fundamental misunderstanding of Shadow’s character – whilst there are many instances where he demonstrates maturity on some levels, he has shown much immaturity since his inception in Sonic Adventure 2 (his desire to destroy the world out of revenge for Maria), and his most recent storyline in Generations involves his naïve desire to change Maria and Gerald’s fates (or rather, an initial indifference to what it will bring). Not only that, but his time on the ARK was mired in confusion over the point of his existence – Maria was the one that helped him field through his confusion, and was arguably the more mature one between the two of them. We can safely say that Shadow is not an adult character, nor is he ever presented as one in the lens of the game.

As the closest thing Sonic likely has to an equal in both body and mind (Sonic holds his own immaturities similar to Shadow), he can likely be placed mentally close to his age of fifteen. This is reinforced by the leaked transcript of Sonic ‘06 that refers to Shadow as 15 (the red squared text in this image).

Maria has no canon age established in game material, but Sonic X lists her as 12. 15 and 12 is the same age gap as Sonic and Amy respectively.

In addition to that, many people have claimed that Shadow is over 50 years old, but this is only true of his chronological existence, not the time he has been conscious and aging. He spent 50 years stuck in cryosleep, and awoke exactly how he was when he was placed in there.

A similar example would be Aang and Katara from Avatar: The Last Airbender - Aang was frozen at the age of 12, and awoke 100 years later. Nobody, however, tried to claim that he was 112 years too old to kiss the 14 year old Katara, as Aang was physically and mentally still a 12 year old upon awakening - most people who watched the show were also actively rooting for these two characters to kiss, which they did at the show's finale. It's the same principle regarding Shadow - he is 50 chronologically, not 50 in mind or body.

If we’d like to really get into it, I would point out that nearly every character in the lens of Sonic is in and around Maria’s age range (according to the Sonic Channel). As stated previously, Sonic is 15. Amy is 12, Knuckles is 16, Rouge is 18, Blaze and Silver are 14, etc. Nobody bats an eye at notions of romance between any of these people (not that I’m saying they should inherently).

Romantic intent between minors is not inherently viewed as a bad thing - see the examples of Aang and Katara or Clive and Jill above, or for an in house example, consider the canonical (to Sonic X at least) relationship between the 8 year old Tails and Cosmo - yet for some reason when it comes to Shadow and Maria, a relationship is stigmatized.

To reiterate in the wake of the last point, my discussions of romantic intent ARE NOT SEXUAL IN NATURE. As I acknowledge these are minors, any notions of that are completely off the table, and I do not agree with anyone who would imply their relationship was a sexual one. I want to make that unmistakably clear.

My major takeaway from observing both the Sonic fanbase and those on Sonic Team seems to be that in western circles, Shadow and Maria as siblings is the popular perception, whilst in eastern circles, they are more commonly perceived romantically. But ultimately, Shadow and Maria’s relationship seems to have many contradictory signals that makes it hard to pinpoint a concrete definition, especially in the most recent releases – and I believe that this is fully intentional.

Shiro Maekawa has stated in DMs has stated this regarding their relationship when asked if he saw them as siblings or love interests (translated from Japanese):

“I think they have a special bond that is unique to them that doesn’t fall into either of those categories. Just my personal opinion.”

From the way that the two are written post-Sonic Adventure 2, this appears to be a sentiment that is fully carried forward – their relationship is more nuanced than a canonical label would make it. Maria was the only person who made Shadow feel loved, and Maria unquestionably loved him back. What kind of love that was is up to the viewer, especially given that Maria died when they were both young, before they even had a chance to expand upon their relationship, if that was ever on the table – not that they needed to, given that their bond seems to have transcended both labels. Maria was the only one who acknowledged Shadow as more than an experiment or a weapon, and Shadow was her rock in an environment where she was isolated away from her family and home. Maria was Shadow's person, and still remains that in death.

To disclose for me personally (in case it was not obvious), I have always interpreted their relationship as romantic - or at least having romantic implications - ever since playing Sonic Adventure 2 Battle and Shadow the Hedgehog when I was a kid. I have both a fiancé and a sibling, and the way they treat each other is far more evocative of how I treat the former than the latter (especially in Dark Beginnings – I do not imagine my sibling through a shoujo filter while I wistfully think about cuddling them in a field of flowers). I do not take the awkwardly placed alt text verbiage from the Sonic Twitter account, used to fake-argue with the Wendy’s Twitter account, as gospel for anything, and I think that treating it as a damning disproval is silly. Had she lived, I believed the complex feelings they held would have been identified as romantic down the line. The relationship always just read as too intimately charged for me to perceive as siblings (it still does especially in the wake of seeing how she touches and speaks to him), even before I had a serious relationship. I think that arguing the nitty gritty over Twitter alt text and translations is silly, as all it took for me to takeaway that the relationship was still romantic was to play the game, watch the animations, and read the manga for Shadow Generations - but that's just me.

That said, I will concur that if you are weirded out by romantic notions between the two of them, that is completely understandable, and I would never argue that you should not feel what you feel for yourself. The sibling viewpoint is also wholly valid an interpretation, with or without word from a meta source. Though she had her grandfather and later Abe, she was largely alone on the ARK away from a family that she clearly loved and missed, and it’s not unusual to presume that Shadow filled in the role of a brother for her. I will also acknowledge that many things I have not mentioned - such as Shadow blushing at Maria calling him cool, or her saying "I love you" in general - are not inherently indicative of romantic intent, and can be read as fully platonic interpretations, and I find those that try to state that the romantic interpretation is the objective one just as irritating as those that state the sibling interpretation is the objective.

My intent is only to dispute the idea that romantic interpretations, and the people who hold them, deserve to be scrutinized. The pairing is completely innocent, and the treatment people have received for believing them to be romantic is obscene. Sweeping blanket statements have been made to insult all who do (some going as far as to wish death and harm upon them), all just based on subjective viewpoints held by people who see them platonically. The fact that there is so much discourse surrounding this topic, and that there is evidence enough on both ends to make an argument, means that Sega has intentionally left the relationship up to interpretation - including the romantic take.

Everyone unclutch your pearls.

But with all that said, I will reiterate that this post was not meant to convince anyone of one thing or another, but rather that both interpretations of their relationship are valid, as it is essentially a secret third thing that transcends both labels and is special only to them. Strictly defining their relationship as “siblings” or “love interests” (even as someone who perceives them romantically, I would never want that to be definitively confirmed for this reason) is deconstructing what is perhaps the most nuanced part of a series that does not always tend to be terribly nuanced, and a definition matters far less than acknowledging what Maria means to Shadow in the present – he is who he is because of her, and because of that, he is now living a life for himself. Shadow the Hedgehog (2005) ended in a way that had Shadow let Maria go, and Shadow Generations ends with him carrying her forward with him after accepting her loss. She was, and will always be, the person who loved Shadow - however you define that love is up to you.

Nothing has ever been hard confirmed by Sega, no matter how much either side wants to pretend it has been.

In summary, both points of view regarding Shadow and Maria’s relationship are simultaneously true and not true – it is a matter of interpretation according to the viewer what their feelings towards each other were, yet their relationship in the lens of what it is now after the tragedy of their existence (even before Maria died) is purposefully indefinable, and it should remain that way. Nobody should ever try to say that Shadow and Maria are definitively something - that goes for both points of view. I doubt it will, but I hope this goes towards removing the stigmas towards one of the more nuanced parts of this series, as nuance in Sonic the Hedgehog - frankly - does not come along very often, and it would be nice if that were encouraged rather than smothered.

Thank you for reading.

#shadow the hedgehog #maria robotnik #shadow generations #sonic x shadow generations #dark beginnings #shadow dark beginnings #sonic the hedgehog #shadaria #shadria #shadow x maria #ark siblings #シャドマリ

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catnippackets · 10 months ago

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disclaimer: as a sex-repulsed aroace person myself--

on one hand, there is definitely a bit of a double standard when it comes to handling canonically queer characters like, from what I've seen in the circles that I frequent (if you've had different experiences then great but I'm just telling it how I see it). for example, you're morally reprehensible if you ship a canon lesbian with a man or refer to a canon bi character as a lesbian. people will be so angry with you. and it's understandable, since there's so little queer rep in comparison to cishet rep that when there IS a rare actual queer character, the unofficial rule is "don't take that away from them when you add more headcanons to them". like, respect that this one is REAL and NOT just a headcanon. I think it makes perfect sense to feel upset when people take that away, even if it is just fiction and not even canon to the original source. and yet, whenever there exists a canon asexual character suddenly it's all "oh well asexual people can still have sex so it's fine if we headcanon THIS canon sexuality as something different". it makes me feel so genuinely heartache-y and depressed to see ppl ignoring that aspect of a character.

and by "canon" I'm also including characters that were never specifically referred to with a label but are very obviously coded as something, because those characters will still get the "even if it's not stated it's pretty obvious!!" treatment when it comes to showing attraction to the same gender, but not when they DON'T show attraction to any gender. like aro and/or ace coding just doesn't count. I understand that it's kind of hard to represent an absence of something, especially when you're only implying it and not even directly showing it, but it's not impossible. there's a lot of characters that you could argue are aroace coded the same way you could argue a character is gay coded. obviously to a degree every queer identity gets disrespected in fandom and it's something you just kinda have to deal with, but it's easier to notice when it's something you personally relate to. I don't think it would bother me as much if we didn't have that unofficial "respect the canon" rule and everyone just went wild with whatever, but the double standard does genuinely hurt me, especially when I see people I thought were cool about this stuff participating in it. so whenever I see someone fiercely defending an asexual character it really makes me feel good, like I'M being defended, not a random fictional character that I might not even recognize the name of. I feel safe, like that person will respect ME.

THAT BEING SAID,

AS a sex-repulsed aroace person who enjoys thinking about the entire spectrum of intimacy and where a character may fall exactly on that spectrum, ALSO as a person who is aware that "asexual" simply means "does not experience sexual attraction" and not necessarily "is violently repulsed by anything sexual", sometimes I DO want to play out scenarios for my own enjoyment. sometimes I DO want to think hm I wonder where this ace character's line is, compared to a different ace character. I wonder if there is anyone who would be an exception for them, and how they could go about dealing with that exception. I wonder if they're favourable, neutral, or repulsed. if those aspects of their character aren't explicitly stated then what's to stop me from playing around with them and working through my own issues in a controlled and non-canon environment? if they have the same identity as me, I am way more likely to want to play around with them like a doll and perhaps play out scenarios that I might have thought about before but don't actually want to do for real. I'm not taking away their identity, after all; I'm just, in this scenario, imagining this ace character as an ace that might have sex on at least one occasion for whatever reason. either just to try it, or because they do have someone they'd make an exception for, or if they got bored enough, whatever the reason. it isn't quite disrespecting their truth unless it's explicitly stated either in canon or by word of god that it's something they're uncomfortable with. and to be honest, if I see another asexual creator headcanoning a character as somewhere on the asexual spectrum and depicting them in sexual situations, it makes me almost happy, to know that they're still acknowledging that character's canon identity and accepting and exploring the nuance that could come with it, even if I personally believe that this specific character would be repulsed instead of neutral or favourable. there's this understanding of "I'm doing a character study exploration thing", and not "I don't care I just wanna sexualize this character"

but I literally feel GUILTY when I want to write what is essentially a thinkpiece disguised as a fanfiction or original story on asexuality and take an asexual character (canon or coded) and involve them in sexual situations to explore different avenues of the spectrum. I feel like I'm betraying everyone who's like me and is frustrated with how aroace characters are treated within fandom. I'm like "am I being just as bad as those other people who will disrespect a character's canon sexuality just because they think that character is hot and want to ship them with someone? do they do the same thing with other types of queer characters? how does this reflect that person's view of people, if they're explicitly told someone feels a certain way and decides to ignore it for their own amusement? or is it just because they're fictional and not real people and I'm being really sensitive and thinking way too much into it? am I not doing the exact same thing? do I have more credence to explore scenarios like this because I am aroace and sex-repulsed myself and therefore have a pass to do whatever I want and it won't come off as a little weird the way it might if someone who's allosexual did it?"

and these two opinions are at war in my mind constantly. like both of them can and do co-exist but I still struggle to accept that lol

#ramblings #asexuality #I almost kinda wanna make a video on this bc I feel like just writing does not even explain what I'm trying to say

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somanyratsinthewalls · 7 months ago

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Omg congratulations on 700! 🎉 It is so so we’ll deserved. I must admit that I reread your work a lot because it is just so good and some of my favorites! 🥰

For the prompt, as always I am a SUCKER for the one bed trope, but I’d like to add another fun element so….

Blue + Lion + Hummingbird perhaps? 😈

Okay this one was a request by many, including my cutie pal @thirstydiglett and @truebluesanji and HOT DOG is it a good one!

Just One Bottle (+18)

Pairing: Sanji x Strawhat Fem!Reader

Prompt: Only One Bed x Aphrodisiac

WC: 2000 lol

Warnings: Open for interpretation on how the pals ended up ingesting the aphrodisiac, forced closeness, unprotected sex, p in v sex, morning after pill discussion, drug use, creampie, Sanji being a gentleman!

— —

You strolled the aisles of the bookstore as you waited for Sanji to finish up his snail call outside. You ran your fingers across the labels gently as you passed by each shelf. You glanced towards the shop windows and saw that Sanji was outside giving some choice words to whoever was on the end of his transponder snail. The sun was setting and you found yourself captivated by the way the low light reflected off his blonde hair. He looked handsome.

But he wasn’t your type. He was always fawning over you, even more obnoxiously so than for Nami and Robin. You never gave him half a thought in terms of a choice as a romantic partner, he was just a crew mate that you cared for deeply… as a friend. You turned down another aisle of bookshelves as you could clearly tell that Sanji wasn’t finishing his conversation any time soon.

You found yourself stopped at the romance section and pulled a bright purple tome off the shelf. “Part Time Human, Full Time Lover…” You read the title to yourself before flipping it open. You find yourself reading a rather graphic passage describing an intimate encounter between the human protagonist and her well-endowed centaur lover. “Goodness…” You whisper to yourself as you find yourself flipping the page in interest.

“Y/n!” You snap the book closed instinctively as you hear your name called. Sanji was rounding the corner of the aisle and came up to you.

“Sanji! Hi!” You hurriedly put the book back on the shelf. “Any news?”

“Well, the sun is going down fast and the moss head idiot got his group lost so we have to stay on the island for the night. We’re all too far apart to get back to the Sunny. We can find an inn around here and get some rooms.” Sanji explains to you.

“Fine, hopefully somewhere with a restaurant. I’m starving.” You smile. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have a night off from cooking?” You raise an eyebrow at the tall blonde.

“I guess. Don’t expect the same quality of food that you’d get back on the ship. Shall we?” Sanji remarks as he gestures to the door of the bookstore, letting you go first.

— —

After wandering the small village for awhile, the two of you find a small inn that had a tavern on the first floor. You ducked in, trying not to draw attention seeing as the two of you were highly wanted pirates.

Sanji strode confidently to the front desk.

“We require two rooms for the night. Money is no issue.” Sanji stoically demands of the innkeeper.

“Sir I’m sorry… but we only have one room left tonight… I’d be happy to give you a discounted rate…” The mousey old man behind the counter said as his voice trembled.

“This kind of dump has no vacancy? You’re telling me that this hole in the wall has only one room available-“

“We’ll take it.” You pushed past Sanji’s shoulder and placed your stack of Beri on the counter.

The innkeeper’s eyes danced from your smile to Sanji’s scowl.

“We’ll take it.” Sanji echoed, lowering his voice.

“E-e-excellent news! I will issue you your keys now. Would the couple like one set or two?” The old man sputters out.

“Two.” “One.”

You say two and Sanji replies with one. He clears his throat.

“Two, please sir.” Sanji changes his response.

The old man issues you two sets of keys and hands you your change after you pay for the room.

“Please, enjoy our restaurant. You may find that sharing a room is not uncommon among couples at this hotel.” The innkeeper mentions.

You look up at Sanji.

“I am kind of hungry, Sanji. Shall we?” You question.

“Can’t go to bed with any empty stomach, can we?” Sanji shrugs.

Sanji put his hand on the small of your back and led you in the direction of the small restaurant.

“Two of you?” The stout hostess asked and you nodded. She led you and Sanji to a candlelit table in the back of the pub. Of course, Sanji pulled your chair out for you. Once seated across from one another, you picked up the drink menu.

“The room was so cheap… should we get the champagne?” You smirk over the menu across the table at Sanji.

“Nami would kill us… what’s the label?” Sanji gestures to grab the drink menu from you and you hand it to him. His brows furrow. “I actually haven’t heard of this brand before… but it’s expensive… must be from the South Blue…” Sanji quirks a curled eyebrow up at you. “Should we?”

The sides of your mouth curl up.

“Yes.”

Sanji breaks into a grin as the waitress arrived at your table.

“Anything I can get you two tonight?” The cute redheaded waitress asked you both.

“We’ll start with a bottle of the champagne.” Sanji says to the waitress. “And for food… anything your recommend for a night on the town?” He says with a smirk.

“Oh, I think our chef can do something for you.” The waitress says with a smile.

“Perfect.” Sanji says as he snaps his menu closed and hands it to the waitress.

— —

The two of you had finished your bottle of champagne and dinner and were waiting around for the waitress to bring you your bill.

“No no, it really was lovely. I just have never had a champagne like this…” Sanji says as the two of you discuss dinner.

“The oysters were a nice touch, I thought.” You remark.

“Mr BlackLeg sir thank you…” The waitress interrupts as he places a large stack of Beri on the tray containing your bill.

“That was a nice tip you left…” You say as Sanji ushers you softly out of your seat, covering your back with his suit jacket. “Far more than most would.” You didn’t feel drunk, but you felt some strange warmth growing in your lower half. It started building when you drank that damned champagne.

“It’s nothing for someone who used to work in hospitality. Their service is worth far more than the champagne.” Sanji says as he guides you to the stairs, leading you up to your room on the third floor.

You reach your room and Sanji fumbles with the keys before getting the lock open. The door opens to reveal a small room with a queen size bed and an ensuite bathroom.

“I-I can sleep on the floor.” Sanji says immediately. You turned and saw that his cheeks were bright pink. Was it from the alcohol?

“It’s fine, we’re adults. Let’s just get to bed.” You respond and begin stripping off your pants. You then unstrap your bra and take it off through the front of your shirt. Sanji hesitates for a second before stripping down to just his boxers.

“I’ll take this side.” You said awkwardly as you slide into the bed.

“Right. Goodnight then.” Sanji shuts off the lights and hops into bed on the side opposite you.

“Yep. Night.” You curl up into your side, so that you wouldn’t encroach on your crew mates sleeping space.

All you can hear is labored breathing.

Was it your own?

Was it Sanji’s?

Something was off. You couldn’t sleep.

Why was your pulse thrumming in your privates? Why was there slick gushing out of your slit to soak your underwear? Nothing even remotely sexual has happened tonight and yet your levels of arousal were off the charts. You tossed and turned for several minutes trying to ignore it, having the ache between your legs only grow more intense.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Sanji?” You whisper out into the darkness.

“Gods, Y/N, tell me you feel like I do right now.” Sanji responds in between pants.

“What the fuck happened to us?” You breath out to the dark ceiling above you.

“Something in that drink…” Sanji breathes out. “It fucking hurts…”

You peer over to your left and see Sanji grabbing at his crotch beneath the sheets.

“They drugged us.” You pant out, right hand delving into your panties and rubbing at your clit, trying to get some relief from the burn this mysterious wine was causing you.

“I-I don’t know how to say this, mon cherie… But what if we… helped each other…" Sanji said as he saw you pleasuring yourself beneath the bed covers.

“Right… it’s just helping a friend…” You say softly as you touch your sex further, reaching your left hand out under the sheets to wrap around Sanji’s erect penis.

“YES- I mean, yes-“ Sanji jerks at your touch. “It’s just relieving each other…”

“Okay… fine…” You relent.

Sanji jumps up and positions himself above you in a nanosecond. You take this time to push your panties down and your t-shirt over your head.

“Spread your legs for me, my love…” Sanji whispers as he hovers over you. “Show me what you need…”

“Sanji please, I need you inside of me.” You pleaded as you brought your hand down to spread your pussy lips. “Sanji why does it hurt?! Please help me!” You bucked your hips in his direction. You were desperate.

“I’m gonna fix it, okay? I’m gonna stop it from hurting. Do you want that, y/n?” Sanji asked.

“Yes! Please help me!” You cried out again as you saw Sanji pull himself fully from his boxers.

Sanji dances the head of his dick across you clit as you whimpered.

“I’ve got you, mon amour…” Sanji assures you as he leans down and pushes his cock into your trembling hole.

“OH-!” The moan is ripped from your lungs as you feel the throbbing head of Sanji’s member push past your g-spot to fill you completely. “Fucking finally-“ You groan as your eyes roll to the back of your head, the fullness you’ve been craving in your bones finally being fulfilled.

“More, more, more….” You chant as Sanji bucks his hips into yours with a fervent pace. Whatever aphrodisiac was in that wine had fully engulfed your brain and all you wanted was a thick cock inside of you stretching you out. The only thing you could focus on was the wet glide of Sanji’s heavy dick in and out of your hole. “Please, more!” You cried.

“My love, I’ll give you everything you want…” Sanji’s eagerness to please came through as he pushed your thighs up towards your chest, allowing him further access to your favorite spot. “Need you to cum on me… please..” He begged.

“M-More.. want more..." You whimper out.

Sanji takes one of his hands from the crook of your knee and places it around your neck gently. He leans in and places a tender kiss on your lips. He moves his other hand to the top of your sex. Sanji slips two fingers inside of you next to his own cock, assuring you're full to the brim and your favorite spot is being stroked with every thrust.

"San-ji! So- Fuckin- Full!" You cried out in the throws of pleasure, finally feeling exactly what you wanted.

“I can’t do this much longer, mon cherie, so wet and so tight…” Sanji groans into your lips as he ruts into you like an animal. “Need you to cum…”

“I’m…cumming… fuck!” You scrunch your eyes shut and scratch at Sanji’s naked back.

“So perfect….” Sanji whimpers into your sweaty neck as he shoots his load into you. You stroked his neck all the way down to the base of his spine.

“Aaah- Fuck- Ah!” You hear the cook grunt into your flesh as he digs his hips into yours further.

“A-are you cumming again?” You ask with a heavy sigh, coming down from your own orgasm.

“Sh-shiiiit….” Sanji groans. Tears prick at your eyes as overstimulation sets in. “M-my love…”

You feel Sanji’s hips drive further into yours, impossibly deep. He was emptying yet another massive load in you in less than a few minutes, it was spilling filthily out of your hole around his cock. Sanji collapsed almost immediately on top of you without pulling out.

Sanji wrapped his arms around your torso and settled in.

“You know you’re going to have to ask Chopper about a ‘morning after’ situation, right?” You muse as you stroke Sanji’s lower back.

“I think the embarrassment is worth it.” Sanji smirks as he nuzzles into your breast.

You smile and pull your love-cook close to fall asleep.

— —

Hope you ALL enjoyed!

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece anime #one piece fanart #one piece live action #one piece fandom #one piece netflix #one piece smut #sanji x reader #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #one piece sanji #strawhats #with: sanji

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fuck-customers · 4 months ago

Note

Customer on phone: I got this accessory and the wood is all rough and I don't think it was finished, it doesn't match the original at all.

Me: I'm sorry about that, we will send you a return shipping label for the defective product and send you a new one. What carrier is easiest for you?

Customer: the wood is just rough, I don't think it should be like that!

Me: you're right, it shouldn't. We will send you a new one, and a label to send the defective one back. Do you have a preference between [names carriers we use for shipping labels]

Customer: and the wood doesn't match at all, I mean I know wood changes color with age but I don't think this has a finish on it at all!

Me: ... We will check the new one before we send it out, what carrier is easiest for you to drop it off with please?

Customer: the original is so nice and smooth, I just think they should match.

Me: ... yes they should. What carrier--

Customer: this is just not the same color, not what I was expecting at all.

Me, hanging onto my customer service voice by a thread: ma'am I'm going to send you a [cheapest carrier] label, will you be able to drop it off with them or do you need a different carrier?

Customer: I don't want to drop it off, that's a lot of hassle, can't they just come get it?

Me, so happy to be making progress here: sure, no problem. What day and time would be most convenient for us to schedule the pickup.

Customer: *heavily annoyed sigh* *hangs up*

Me: ?????

I've been trying to follow up with this customer for a MONTH now so I can close out the warranty ticket, and they won't respond. I agreed to everything they asked for. All I needed them to do was stop whining about the same thing over and over for just 30 seconds and answer very simple questions so i can do what they want. What the heck. They left it in the box so long I wasn't even within our timeframe for reporting defects anyway, so I was already making an exception.

Posted by admin Rodney

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pedgito · 2 years ago

Text

summary | using your neighbors address for deliveries doesn’t seem like the worst idea until you find yourself with a world of dilemmas and a burgeoning crush on the single dad who lives there. [10k+]

pairing | pre-outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

content warning | 18+ content, as always: no explicit use of y/n, reader is a teacher (only for loose plot purposes) meet-weirds, a cliche stranger neighbors to pining lovers take on pre-outbreak joel, lots of sweet interactions with sarah, joel's internal struggles to be a good dad, awkward interactions & flirting, soft sexual content (oral, protected sex, joel talking you through it like a gentleman)

author’s note | this came from a prompt i saw (ignore that actual legality issues of this, it's just for fun) that was meant to be a quick blurb but turned into this monster of porn with plot…i regret nothing, enjoy! or don’t that’s fine

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3

To be clear, this wasn’t the first route you took to avoid the problem. And for whatever reason, fate or be it some other evil, unseen force, it always stuck you in the awkwardest positions.

It also didn’t help that your mailman was probably the judgiest person on this earth, despite it not being his business, the suspicious amount of packages and content of said packages were enough to garner a few looks and even the occasional mumble under his breath.

So, when you start to put down your neighbors address for all of your future packages, it doesn’t seem like a problem.

He’s gone a lot anyways, his truck only pulling once the sun has already set and you’re laying in bed, bright headlights cascading against the walls through your upstairs window. His exhaust kicks off a couple times and it always rouses you from your sleep just enough to annoy you. He's hardly there, it's fine. You've got nothing to worry about.

You’ve only caught a glimpse of him in the morning, a young woman prancing at his side as she hops into the passenger seat. Her name is Sarah.

As for him, he was Dad.

You’ve been here for three months and haven’t made any attempt to be neighborly or make friends, yet you were brave enough to slip his address onto your order forms and go on about your day.

And, in your defense, it works well.

Packages always arrive around the time you’re pulling into your driveway, the perfect opportunity before the trail of buses traverse through the cul de sac and flush out the rowdy kids from their seats.

A quick jog over and you’re snatching up the package without any inclination that something is amiss.

Until again, it becomes a problem.

Not even a problem, really—but it’s still a weird conversation to have, standing at your neighbors doorstep with a package in your hand and looking like some porch pirate with bad manners, if that was even possible.

He was home, but that wasn’t the issue. It was Saturday, a small overlook when you placed your order last week that led you to the position you were in now, staring down the man with your package clutched in his hands.

“This yours?” He asks, an eyebrow raising inquisitively. The contents shake as he holds it up.

“Yeah.” You start, sounding unsure of yourself, “I accidentally gave them the wrong address, didn’t realize until it was already shipped and I’ve been waitin’ all week.”

He didn’t need the explanation, but he lets you speak until your heart’s content, taking a quick glance at the label on the box.

He says your name, double checking to make sure it was you. You nod, extending a friendly hand.

“I’m sorry.” You apologize. It’s sweet, clipped, believable enough that he doesn’t try to implore further.

He finally hands the box over, not a word on your tongue as you fetch the package and retreat back to your home with your heart racing like it was going to burst out of your chest.

You’re already long gone by the time the smirk reaches Joel’s face, a sudden glance back at his daughter. Sarah is laughing from the couch, the noise muffled behind her hand.

“Maybe she’s flirting with you.”

Joel huffs at that, a warm laugh bubbling from his chest.

“Darlin’, I doubt that.”

“That’s the sixth package that’s been sent here.” Sarah adds, “I’m not orderin’ anything. Are you?”

Joel gives her a look that answers itself.

“Then?”

Things are smooth sailing for another couple weeks, but the shared secret between Joel and Sarah is unbeknownst to you.

So, smooth sailing for you, you think.

Joel drags it out until another day when he’s free from work, waiting for those footsteps to reach his porch, a quick nudge from Sarah that has him standing from his comfortable spot on the couch as she moves away from his shoulder.

But, they never come.

And Joel doesn’t know why that sends a surge of confused worry down his spine, but it’s out of the norm. He should check on you.

Sarah's the one to remind him of it.

“Take it over there.” It startles Joel, her ability to sneak up on him so easily. His brow furrows, flipping the package in his grip after he finally opened the door and gave in.

“Go.”

Sarah’s practically shoving him out of the door before he can refuse.

When Joel reaches your front door he can already see you, arm tucked under your head, resting over the arm of your couch as you napped silently, the soft hum of the television muffled by the front door. Joel knocks once, a softer and gentler attempt than he’d usually go for, and when that doesn’t work he goes for the latter, one solid knock that could surely wake you.

It doesn’t.

Joel leans over the trimmed hedge resting underneath the window sill and taps on the glass, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when you finally wake.

It takes you a moment to adjust, but your eyes are stretching like saucers when your blurry vision becomes clear.

“Shit, shit,” Joel hears the tail end of it as you open the door, “—I’m so—“

“Look I’m not judgin’” He begins, handing the package over without question, “but seein’ as you’re using my address, it would be nice if you clued me in.”

Your mouth opens slightly, wondering how in the hell you could explain this. Joel catches wind of your uncertainty.

“My daughter’s pretty observant,” He scratches at his forehead idly, shoving his other hand into his front pocket, “and I’ve noticed it for about a month now—m’just curious.”

“Uh, okay—how do I explain this?” You ask aloud, placing the package on a nearby surface. “I order a lot of stuff for work. Like, more than normal. It’s a bunch of different things, sometimes a little odd, I guess?”

Joel flashes a grin of amusement, subtle, but there. He nods, urging you to continue.

“Our mail guy kept giving me weird looks—not like it’s his job to judge but I haven’t been here long, the last thing I needed was someone spreadin’ word around the neighbhorhood.”

It was a small community, tight knit. It was a reasonable defense, but Joel kept quiet.

“I’m sure he thinks I’m a psychopath, but I figured maybe putting your address down and pickin’ them up after would help. I mean, it did for a while, but—It was a stupid idea, I'm sorry.“

“What’s in the box?” Joel asks curiously.

It catches you off-guard, blinking a few times as you glance over at the package.

“Uh, pipe cleaners. You know, the craft ones. All different colors.”

“And what about the other ones?”

It was justifiable, the questions he had.

“Huh, um—lots of paint, some rolls of tape, rope, these little face masks for the kids to work on for the town carnival next week. I can keep going but...I don't think you'd find it that interesting.”

“You’re…a teacher?” Joel assumes.

You don’t realize until half a second later that you’d slipped up so easily.

“Yeah, first grade.”

“Well, I don’t mind it, but don’t worry about that kid.” Joel tells you, “We’ve been workin’ on that street by the office for a few weeks and he’s always causin’ some type of trouble. If anything, I can talk to the boss up there, let ‘em know.”

“It’s fine, there’s no need for all that.”

“Well, just trying to be neighborly,” Joel shrugs, and the smile that breaks through, one that you can see, is something indescribable, “I can help you out and have Sarah drop the packages off when she can, unless I happen to catch it before she does to save you a trip.”

“You’re okay with me using your address still?” You ask, a little perturbed.

“Don’t see why not, it’s not hurting anyone.” Joel responds, “And if it saves you a few minutes of feelin’ embarrassed.”

“I don’t know, this is pretty embarrassing too.”

Joel doesn’t seem bothered, shaking his head with the corners of his mouth downturned.

“You’re fine, again—it’s harmless.”

You nod slowly, relenting to his unusual politeness. You weren’t sure southern hospitality was a real thing, but there he was, standing on two legs before you.

“Thank you, uh—“

“Joel.” He answers for you, “Probably should’ve started with that.”

And putting a name to a face had never been more satisfying.

“Thank you, Joel.” You repeat once more, name rolling off your tongue foreignly, smiling nonetheless.

“If you need anything we’re just across the way,” Joel jabs his thumb in the direction of his home, “as much as Sarah loves the Adlers', she might end up clingin’ to you if you let her get to know you.”

Unfortunately for Joel, he’s sealing his own fate by speaking it into existence.

He leaves without a word, waving a quick goodbye over his shoulder as his boots scuff against pavement.

The deep, shaky breath you let out is a reminder that being in new places, trying new things, forming new relationships, wasn’t always a bad thing.

Sarah greets you with a big smile the first day she catches a package before you, opening with a line you don’t expect.

“Do you have markers, by chance?”

She’s all sunshine and adolescent innocence, eyes too wide and unguarded from the world—it’s an effect of Joel’s obvious overprotectiveness he feels toward her. He’s shielded her from so much, though if you asked Joel, not enough.

“I do,” You answer with an airiness to your voice, “whaddya say, fair trade—my package for the markers?”

“Sure.” She nods, handing over the box.

You disappear briefly, the heels of her converse teetering on your doorstep, a gentle rock back and forth as she curiously peers inside your home.

It’s fairly boring, but it’s home. That’s all that matters to you.

“Just try to get them back to me when you’re done?” It’s not so much a demand, handing the pack over to the young girl. “No rush, take them as long as you need ‘em.”

“Yeah, I will!” She responds cheerfully. “I’ve been reminding my dad for a few days but he works a lot, forgets things—are all adults that bad at remembering?”

“Some of us have a lot on our mind,” You shrug, speaking candidly, “You know what—just keep those.”

“Are you sure?” She asks warily, “I didn’t mean to, like, guilt you or anything—“

“No, no.” You assure her, “It helps you both out, that way your dad won’t have to worry about it anymore.”

“Okay.” Sarah responds wistfully, glancing back as the sound of Joel’s truck inches up the street. Joel is pulling the toolbox out of his truck bed when Sarah calls out loudly, “Dad!” shaking the boxed markers in the air.

“She hustle you for those?” Joel calls out, eyes connecting with you. “Sarah, we talked about this—“

“She did not,” Still, the implication earns a laugh from both of you, “they’re free, less for you to worry about.”

And it stings a little, but Joel hides it well.

“Don’t let her fool you,” Joel warns, “She’s just as evil as she is sweet.”

The smile that stretches across Sarah’s face is telling in its own right.

There’s a month of nice, minimal interaction with your neighbors. The Adler's bake too much, always offering up baked goods to the surrounding houses, yours included. You always end up with the extra oatmeal raisins because Sarah despises them and apparently, so does Joel.

Sometimes you catch Sarah at the front door or outside, kicking her soccer ball around or waiting on the steps for her father, even into the later hours of the night. Sometimes it’s Joel, who always ends up at your doorstep rather than you at his.

Joel likes to ask about your day, a polite but awkward attempt at small talk.

He hasn’t tried talking to anyone since Sarah’s mom, it felt forced—but he was trying, even if it was nearly impossible to get through some days.

Joel talked a lot about Sarah, or work, occasionally bringing up his brother Tommy—he works with him too. You’ve seen him a few times and finally put another name to another face, and he's younger than Joel by five years, closer to your own age. Joel opens up little by little, day by day, completely by his own doing despite how little you talk about yourself.

Joel enjoys the way you always have a smile on your face despite how your morning goes, always hanging on to his words like they're the most interesting thing you've heard in a while. He enjoys having someone to talk to that isn't family or people who he's obligated to converse with to get himself through the day. It's the first time he's really started to go out of his own way to get to know someone.

It’s late Friday night when you end up at his doorstep, dressed in some thin pajamas to combat that Texas heat and humidity—nighttime somehow felt worse, the bugs pricking at your bare legs and the material sticking to your skin.

Your package should’ve arrived today and you didn’t see it outside—but a quick glance through the open entrance, albeit guarded by a screen door, showed that it was sitting right there on their kitchen table.

You knock on the glass pane lightly.

“Dad!” Sarah calls out from somewhere you can’t see, “Door!”

“You can’t get it?” He shouts back, also nowhere to be seen.

“I’m busy!”

You chuckle to yourself, hearing Joel's gruff, “Like I ain’t!”

Sarah’s silence is answer enough.

“Shit—“ It’s a gruff noise, stuck deep in Joel’s gravelly undertone, “hold on!”

Joel’s pulling his shirt over his head as he rounds the corner, leaving you a small glimpse of the tan skin underneath. He relaxes when he realizes it's you.

“Just come in,” Joel says, “you’re probably getting eaten up out there.”

And truly, you’ve never been more thankful.

Joel opens the door to let you pass, the strong scent of fresh body wash invading your senses, his hair still wet from the shower.

“M’sorry, I was gonna bring it by later.” Joel apologizes, “I got off a little earlier tonight and wanted to grab a shower.”

He’s handing you the box with a calculated movement, flicking his watch over his wrist as he secures it, glancing at you briefly.

“Should I guess?” Joel asks.

“Uh—“

“The box.” He clarifies.

You decide to tease him a little, head tilted slightly as you grin, “You’d be guessin’ for a while.”

Joel hums a small noise, fidgeting with watch as he shifts it into place before standing with his hands resting against his hips.

“Uh, let’s see—clay?”

Not a terrible guess. An odd one to go for on the first try, though.

“God no, that would be everywhere.”

“Those creepy little eyes?”

“Googly eyes?” You correct with a faint laugh, “No, but that’s definitely been one of the packages I’ve ordered lately. The kids love them.”

“I give up.” Joel says in defeat, hands raising up slightly before slapping down at his sides. A rather quick win on your part.

“They’re seeds, for flowers.” You tell him, “We’re going over photosynthesis right now. All that boring stuff about plants and how they grow but the kids are more excited to play with dirt for a couple hours.”

Joel nods slowly, thoughtfully, top lip disappearing behind his bottom in a pout of thoughtfulness.

“Invite her over already!”

Joel sighs, rubbing his palm over his beard as he scratches lightly.

“If you don’t I will.” She adds.

You don’t have to see her face to know that smile. She was evil, and damn was she good at it.

“Right, uh—“

“No, please don’t feel obligated,” If anything, it made you feel like more of a bother, “my feelings won’t be hurt.”

“No, I was—I planned on asking.” Joel admits, “Just kept forgettin’.”

That and he didn’t know to casually bring it up in conversation.

Point one, Sarah. Joel, zero.

“They’re throwin’ a little party for my birthday. Just a cookout is all, gonna have food, beers—is that somethin’ you’re into?”

Joel feels ridiculous, a grown man in his mid-thirties and sweating over the prospect of inviting a woman over.

“I can be.”

Your smile is relaxed, reaching your eyes in the way that makes them squint a little.

You can smell the fresh soap and spice of his cologne from this distance, a welcomed change from his usual worn, dirty state—not that you hated it, but Joel did clean up nice.

“Great, tomorrow at 7?”

“6!” Sarah quickly corrects, sounding exhausted.

Joel rolls his eyes, a sign of an also very tired father.

The snort of laugh slips out before you can hide it, slapping your hand over your mouth in embarrassment.

“Uh, I’ll just show up somewhere in between, how about that?”

Joel seems unfazed, fighting against his own grin as he nods.

He forgets to tell you goodnight as you leave, something that doesn’t even cross your mind, but to him, feels like a missed opportunity.

“So out of your league, brother.” Tommy whistles lowly, shaking his head in disbelief as he flips the half-cooked burger on the grill. “Shit—explain it to me again, actually.”

“She sends her packages here,” Joel’s short, to the point. “s’not much to explain, Tommy.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Tommy counters.

Joel shrugs.

“What the hell’ve you done with my brother?” Tommy jokes lightly, earning a half-hearted shove from Joel.

Tommy’s eyes flick toward you briefly, helping Sarah in the kitchen as she ices the cake. Sarah smiles at whatever you’re saying, your back turned to both of the men.

“Don’t act like you’d be lettin’ slide for just anyone. How well do you know her?”

“Well enough,” Joel shrugs, “Sarah likes her, probably a little too much.”

Truth be told, Joel didn’t know much about you at all. But, he wanted too. Tommy saw right through it, but he didn't push Joel. He knew better.

“Careful,” He warns with a soft chuckle, “once that kid sinks her teeth in, there's no way she’s letting her leave.”

Joel knows it’s too late—her eagerness to invite you over, always finding excuses to talk to you or force Joel to do the same. The kid was too smart for her own good.

Even after all is said and done, you decide to stick around to help clean up. Tommy nearly runs at the opportunity to skip out of the mess, waving a quick goodbye to three of you before he’s gone.

Sarah doesn’t fight Joel when he tells her to head upstairs to get some sleep, knowing that he could manage it on his own. He didn’t deny your offer to help either, taking the kind gesture in stride.

“How does it feel?” You ask, breaking the silence as you swipe up the dishes into your right arm, stacking the plates and cutlery with a careful movement. “35, I mean?”

Joel chuckles aloud at that, short and flippant as he turns his back, swiping the empty beer bottle from the grill.

“Old,” He answers simply, “and with Sarah getting older it feels like five years for every one.”

“You look like you’re doing alright,” You admit, but it feels like an overstep, your mouth backtracking before your brain can think, “at least, it seems that way.”

Joel smiles slightly, an emotion that only fills half of his face. He’s unsure of it all.

“I don’t think I’ve seen a more cheerful kid,” You sidestep through the backdoor and into the kitchen, placing the dishes in the sink, “and she talks about you a lot.”

Joel drops the empty bottles into the trash, joining you by the sink before politely shoving you aside, “I got ‘em.”

You pull away begrudgingly, but it fades quickly.

“I’m probably the last person you care to hear this from, but I’ve met a lot of parents, seen a lot of different situations, families—she’s happy, so you’re doing somethin’ right.”

“I’m just tryin’ to keep things normal, I guess.” Joel explains with his hands halfway submerged in soapy water. “I’m all she’s got.”

A system flows smoothly as Joel passes off the wet dishes for you to dry, stacking them up on the counter.

The glaringly obvious lack of a second parent is not lost on you and if Joel didn’t want to bring it up, it wasn’t your business. But, his face reads guilt—it always does.

Guilty for working too much, guilty for forgetting things, guilty for making Sarah (and Tommy) worry about him so much.

“Enough about me,” Joel shakes away the excess water, taking the offered dish towel from your hands and patting his own dry, “you want a piece to go?”

The beautiful cake Sarah made, homemade and imperfect, nearly devoured by the four of you already.

“No, I’ll be okay,” You wave your hand freely before resting them in the back pockets of your jeans, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the flooring, “thank you for inviting me, by the way. Not that Sarah gave you an option.”

Joel laughs behind his curled fist, a finger scratching at the fullness of his beard before he’s rubbing his palm over the expanse of it and down his neck.

It doesn’t matter that Joel was the one to mention it to Sarah, wondering if it seemed to forward. The look she returned was typical of a teenage girl and nothing short of making Joel feel stupid for asking.

“You’re good company,” He compliments, “plus the Adlers might think I’m stiffin’ them if I don’t bring a plate over in the morning, so it’s probably best you don’t take that piece anyways.”

“Hey, they’re sweet,” You chastise him lightly, shoving him gently in the side with a finger, “— and those cookies, man.”

Joel smiles thoughtfully, glancing up toward the open front door, a windless night covered in a blanket of silence.

“Can I walk you back?” Joel asks, mostly out of his habitual politeness but a few more minutes with you would be nice.

“Joel, I’m practically in your backyard.” Your eyes study him shortly, the subtle shrug in his shoulders. It was a kind gesture, one that you wouldn’t expect from anyone else. “Fine, have it your way.”

Joel shakes his head in amusement, hearing you giggle on the way to the door, his footsteps following closely behind.

And it feels akin to the awkwardness you feel after a first date, the will he won’t he, who should make a move—is there a move to be made? It’s the unspoken giddiness that terrifies you, something you haven’t felt in a long time.

But, it also doesn’t surprise you when Joel does absolutely nothing—not that he needs to feel the responsibility too, but he always looks like he’s poised to say more, ask another question, and even now as you turn to him, fingers wrapped around the handle of your front door, he’s thinking.

You're quick to quiet his mind.

“Hey,” You call to him quietly, “I’ll give you a quick tour, if you want?”

It’s harmless, giving him a chance to get a peek inside your life, as hectic and unorganized as it was. You were single, alone, and didn’t have to worry about anything but yourself and the overload of things you’ve accumulated in your space, namely for your job.

But, despite the disorganization it’s nearly spotless.

“You still haven’t unpacked?” He asks curiously, tapping his fingers against a pile of cardboard stacked high, unopened.

“Mostly,” You answer candidly, leading him through the open floor of your home, doors wide open, the freshness of lemon lingering throughout, “living room, some of the kitchen, bedroom—it’s mostly done, it’s just the last room on the right that’s kickin’ my ass.”

Joel’s eyebrows raise in question, silently asking you to lead him further. He ignores how soft your fingers feel as they wrap around his wrist, shoving his watch a few centimeters higher as you do and pulling him down the hall with a leisurely stride.

He whistles lowly at the sight, a hoard of boxes and no homes. It was the perfect size for an office, probably what you were intending, a small desk buried underneath the rubble.

“No shelves, no storage?”

You point at a few larger boxes stowed away in a corner.

“I couldn’t build one of those things without breaking somethin’,” You admit with an aura of embarrassment, “plus I need a power drill and bunch of other shit I don’t have right now, so I’ve been putting it off.”

“I’ll help,” Joel suddenly offers, “Given I can manage a day off soon, but I can come over early and we can knock it out in a day.”

“That’s nice, Joel, but—“

“I don’t need your money and I’m not takin’ no for an answer.” Joel realizes how aggressive that sounds, quickly adjusting his manner of speaking, “You’ve been keepin’ Sarah company when I can’t, let me do this.”

Your eyes soften slightly, head tilted at an angle to admire the almost apologetic look on his face.

“You are too kind, Joel Miller.”

And if he could have the smile engraved into his memory, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

“I never told you my last name.” Joel looks at you quizzically, eyebrows furrowing.

“Got a piece of your mail the other day by mistake,” You admit, “s’kinda funny considering the situation. I was curious. You still trust me?”

“You are somethin’ else.” He grins. “Can I trust you?”

Flirty Joel was sweet, you liked it. But, it was gone in a flash. Too soon, too quick.

“Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

The part of you that wishes Joel would’ve stayed a little longer that night aches as you lay in bed, dragging your fingertips lightly over your stomach, shirt pushed up near your breasts. It feels ridiculous, pining over your neighbor.

But, even as you fingers dip inside you, explore your body in all the ways you need, a steady pressure over your clit until you’re coming with a soft gasp, the only thing you can picture is Joel—his face, his hands, and the softness of his voice as he calls out to you, comforts you into that deep void of sleep.

Joel ends with a second shower that night when the world is quiet and everyone is already tucked away in bed, climbing into the brisk cold of the water before it even has the chance to heat up, hoping it calms him down. He ends up in a similar predicament, dragging it out until it’s nearly painful as he squeezes the head of his cock, your sweet smile still fresh in his mind. Joel calls out your name as he comes, just as quiet, and he knows he’s fucked.

You don’t see Joel for a couple weeks, outside of a few occasions where you’re greeting him from your yard, albeit taking out the trash or spending time on your front porch as the tail-end of summer was winding down and evenings were becoming cooler.

He seems more preoccupied than usual, smile not always reaching his eyes and you’re wondering if you’ve done something wrong, if he can read the guilt that oozed from you—crushing on a neighbor? Preposterous.

Most of Joel’s own guilt rides on the fact that he’s always busy, it never fails. A screw up at work meant another setback, setbacks meant longer hours and they had been experiencing far too many these days.

He’s stressed about work and bills and everything any normal adult should while also trying to maintain the balance of being a good dad to Sarah. He hates leaving her home alone so often, even though most of the time she would wander next door to the Adlers’ or over to yours, always supplying herself with the company when she needed it.

He greets you on a Sunday morning, mid-October when the Texas heat was still prickly enough to keep you in a tank top and shorts more often than not. He’s already dressed for the job, tattered jeans and an old shirt on his frame, toolbox clutched in his right hand while he rubs the fingertips of his left against the inside of his palm.

Joel looks a little cleaner around the edges, his beard was trimmed, the hair that started to curl over his ears was shorter and tucked behind his ears and he’s taken a shower despite how much work they had ahead of them for the day.

And, hell, it was work.

Joel made it look easy, but the sheer amount of energy needed to put all the furniture together was something you just weren’t equipped with. He’s explaining random things to you—the importance of anchoring things down, keeping things stable by balancing out the weight distribution and why he always marks and rechecks things twice before drilling.

It’s all a completely foreign language, but you can fake the perplexed look on your face as long as needed—you’d nearly mastered it being around an army of tiny children all day, fighting for your attention to show off their new tricks.

“You’ve been sittin’ on this stuff for how long?” Joel asks, eyebrows pulling together in amusement.

“A few months, maybe. Only a couple days after I moved in, really.”

“I work in construction, sweetheart. You could’ve asked.”

It’s the first time Joel lets his fondness slip, a little word that you skim over entirely when his eyes avert away at the realization.

“Well—I mean, you offered.” Like that wasn’t obvious as he kneeled crouch on your floor, jeans spread tight over his thighs, shirt riding up his back as he leaned in to twist the screw in at an awkward angle. His head is nearly touching your knee, legs tucked under you as you watch. “Seems a little too forward if you ask me.”

“And using my address for your packages don’t?”

He’s got you there, chuckling under his breath at your silence. He thinks back to Sarah’s constant nagging, pushing him to get over his own self-loathing and talk to you, or at least make an attempt.

“Sarah thought you were doing it for other reasons.” He admits, rising slowly to rest his palms against his thighs, sweat collecting around his neck, wetting his collar slightly. “Flirting with me, I guess.”

“That wasn’t my intention,” You answer honestly, “I mean, you’re nice to look at but—“

Joel’s eyebrows raise, intrigued.

You shrug, making a noncommittal noise as you hum.

“It’s the first time she’s been really eager about me getting back out there since, ever, I guess.”

It startles you a moment, the revelation, a small glimpse into his real life, the deeper parts—it’s the tiniest crack, but it’s there.

“Can I ask you somethin’, Joel?”

He nods slightly, stuffing away the screwdriver and lifting the stand with ease, resting his forearm against the surface of it.

“Has it always been—shit, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” You huff softly, rubbing some sawdust between your fingers, “I guess I’m just tryin’ to say that even if Sarah’s mom isn’t in the picture, for whatever reason, she’s always welcome to come to me for stuff. I remember being that young and losin’ my mind when I felt like I couldn’t talk to anyone.”

“Oh, she’s got you hooked.” Joel’s grin grew wide for a moment before softening, “Sarah’s mom, she—I’ve raised that little girl from birth on my own, so she doesn't know anything but her. She doesn’t ask, I’m not gonna force it on here either. But, I’m glad she’s found someone she’s comfortable with.”

There’s a moment of silence that feels like a new connection, a tether tying the two of you together—closer.

“What about you?” Joel asks suddenly, turning the topic of vulnerability and family back toward you. “If you’re comfortable sharin’.”

“Family moved around a lot, my parents traveled for work so it was just me most of the time—boarding schools, weeks by myself during breaks where I was fending for myself, really. My parents always kept me secure financially, but I raised myself.”

Joel sits on that, absorbing the information as you sit a little deeper into the floor, back resting against the front panel of your desk as you shift your legs in front of you, knees bent.

Joel mirrors you after a moment, the soft cream of the ceiling fan filling their air as he leans his head back, enjoying the faint breeze.

“Never wanted kids of my own, either.” You admit, “But, I loved ‘em when they weren’t my own—partially why I started teaching. I just don’t want my kids feeling the way I felt, so if I never have them then…”

Joel understands, fidgeting with his fingers as they rest over his knees.

“I was so young when Sarah came, I didn’t have a clue.”

It’s something you never really thought about, the quickness to grow up at such a young age—not quite a kid but barely stepping into adulthood.

“Well, it seems like you figured it out. She’s got a strong personality but she’s smart, that’s gotta count for something.”

Joel laughs a short, silent noise through his nose, shoulders shaking with the movement. You push away some of the mess from your bare legs, finding that building things was a lot messier than you thought.

“A wet paper towel or washcloth can help,” Joel adds, pointing toward the dusting of wood on the floor, “the rest,” he waves a loose finger toward your hair, pulling at a small piece and flicking it away, “a shower will do just fine.”

Joel glances over your frame briefly, but the gaze he holds is intense, the time that burns even when he finally looks away.

“I can clean this up for you,” Joel offers, “go ahead and take a shower and I’ll be outta your hair before you’re done.”

And you don’t put up a fight, as much as you could have.

The shower feels like heaven after a long day, nearly into late afternoon now and having skipped out on lunch completely—maybe you should offer to feed him as a thank you, knowing he’d never take any money. You hear him moving around outside the door, shuffling with tools, rearranging some of the furniture that was probably a little on the heavier side, falling silent as you finally turned the faucet off.

You should’ve wait a few more seconds, could’ve—you would have missed him completely by then, but you’re wrenching the door open in a hurry to the short distance to your room that was attached to your bathroom, but not before colliding with Joel on the opposite side of the wall as he dug through a cabinet, admittedly a little lost.

“There weren’t any hand towels in the kitchen,” Joel explains calmly when he turns to you, holding his gaze with yours, avoidant of your blatant nakedness as you silently reach for a towel, wrapping it around your frame without a single blink, “I figured—seemed like the second best option…”

He gestures vaguely to the cabinet full of towels.

You nod slowly, speaking evenly, to your own surprise.

“And I was gonna invite you over for dinner, or out—whichever, but that seems a little cliche now, seein’ as you just saw me naked, don’t want you getting the wrong impression.”

“Can’t have that,” Joel nods, agreeable, the remnants of smug grin catching the corner of his mouth, “can we?”

It takes every last ounce of self control to keep you from making a mistake, beg him to take you there—wherever, on the floor, the counter, the bed just some several feet away in the adjoining room.

“I’ll just…finish cleanin’ up and see myself out,” Joel nods, letting his gaze drag down slightly, fingers tightening around the towel instinctively—for your own good, “sorry ‘bout all this.”

You nod slightly in response, wracking your brain with any reason you could give to keep him here a second longer, convince yourself to stop being so scared of putting yourself out there.

It wasn’t lost on you that Joel seemed interested. He’s got that look that lingers when you’re around, always catching glances when he thinks your attentions drawn somewhere else—you see it in the early mornings when you’re leaving for work now, less before you had gotten to know him, and the soften in his voice when he talks to you lately, it’s comforting; he feels safer allowing himself to relax around you now, free of any judgment.

But, he’s also never made any attempt to cross those boundaries, polite to a default and sometimes his own demise—until now, something telling him to go for it.

“But, if you were wanting to treat me to a nice meal,” There’s a calmness to his tone, that same drip of snark you always had toward him but teasing in a way that made your body run warm all over, “Sarah’s spending the night a few blocks over with a girl on her soccer team, so—a little peace and quiet, some dinner,” Joel shrugs, arm raising up to lean against your frame of the door, palm pressed high and fingers tapping along the woods, “it does sound like a fair trade. For the work.”

And whatever he’s trying for, it’s successful.

Hell, you would’ve ended up finding your way over there somehow, but the fact that Joel’s reciprocating and in a way that almost seems playful, it’s too good to pass up on no matter how stubborn you wanted to be to cover the embarrassment you were feeling right now.

Sure, for the work.

“Deal.”

It doesn’t take long for you and Joel to settle on something simpler than some meal that would take too long, too much work, and it was glaringly obvious from the moment you arrived at Joel’s front door that neither of you gave a shit about dinner or deals or paying him back for the work he did.

Whatever was lingering between you now was bigger, much bigger than it had been before and impossible to ignore.

But, the attempt at small talk is nice—a slice or two of pizza into dinner and you’re settled on his couch, legs crossed and facing him fully with his leg stretched out and resting on the coffee table settled a few feet away. He’s no more dressed down than usual, a pair of jeans (arguably one of his cleaner pairs) and a loose shirt that’s design had faded, probably from years and years of wear. You settled for something similar, comfortable, a knitted blanket slung around your shoulders for comfort.

“Cold?” He asks around a bite.

One word. A simple question, but it feels like an answer to so much more. An excuse, even.

“A little,” You nod, punctuating the answer by pulling the blanket over your shoulder more, knees rising to huddle your body closer to yourself, “it’s not that bad.”

“Let me turn the heat up,” Joel’s standing before you can respond, messing with the small panel on the wall, pointing toward the vent settled conveniently above the couch, “feel it?”

You reach a hand out feebly, waiting for the rush of hot air that never comes. You shake your head slightly, rising on your knees slightly, waddling yourself forward until it finally hits you, closer to Joel’s original spot as he returns, settling back in the same position as before, though you’re much closer in proximity now.

You snort softly, falling back on the heels of your bare feet, palms pressing into the tops of your thighs in an attempt to keep the height you had on Joel currently, the smugness in your expression unavoidable.

He’s got his left arm slung over the back of the couch, fingers curling and straightening in a subconscious movement, food forgotten on the table, his eyes dragging toward yours lazily, the buzz of the television filling whatever silence was settling between you two.

Joel is playing oh, so innocent—you can see right through it.

“Smooth,” You can give him some credit, he’s got you closer—not where he wants you or needs you, but he can touch you if he wants, right now, yet still, “how long did you think that over in your head?”

“An hour,” He admits sheepishly, eyes squinting with the half-hearted smile that stretches his face, “pathetic, right?”

You shrug indifferently, settling in deeper, more comfortably. The shift in your movements has your knees pressed against his thighs, hands settling in your lap and just a few inches from his own. There’s a small tear in your jeans that Joel can see, right against the bend of your knee—he’s got the urge to touch you, so he does.

His touch is rough, warm, all calloused from hard work but containing the hominess you crave so deep in your bones.

“I can let it slide,” You assure him, fingers inching closer to his, the width of his palm covering your kneecap now, a slow, precarious movement as your fingers slip over his own, wrapping around his wrist and feeling the faint thrum of his pulse as it quickens, “if you’ll do something for me.”

It's been weeks of build up, unnecessary tension between the two of you that threatened to spill anytime one of you moved to close to the other, a simple touch in passing or looks that dragged on too long.

“‘Course, anything.”

The admission comes quickly. He doesn’t even need to think it over. He’s staring more intently, the shadows of his face changing with every flashing picture on the screen several feet away.

“Stop torturing me,” You supply softly, guiding his hand between your legs until his knuckles bump against your center, a soft squeeze to your thigh as his fingers fit comfortably against your body, his brain mapping out how the levels of his touch affect you, “you take me to your room,” it’s your turn to reach for him, fingers leaving his wrist to trace alone his thigh in return, though stretching past the the button of his jeans to find the soft skin of his abdomen under his shirt and dragging over his stomach delicately until he can’t stand it anymore, using his free hand to lock yours in place, pulling your attention to his face once more and away from the slow rise and fall of his breathing, “and you fuck me.”

Joel frowns slightly, the creases in his forehead becoming a little deeper, the beginnings of his crows feet wrinkling around his eyes and he’s trading the spot where his hand is cuddle against the apex of your thighs to slip his fingers under your jaw, tracing the fragile lines of your face until he can cradle your cheek gently, using the pad of his thumb to press on your chin, guiding your face down to look at him, and somehow pulling you impossibly closer.

“Fuck you?” He questions, eyes searching yours briefly, tongue swiping at his bottom lip, “No—no, that’s not how I do things, sweetheart.”

You smile under his touch, watching as he mirrors those emotions and urges you toward him and over his lap, large palms holding steady at your waist. You filter your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, tracing until you reach the shell of his ear, playing with the short tuft of hair that curls behind it, his eyes watching your movements carefully.

“Care to enlighten me?”

Joel chuffs out a laugh, short and brimming with a darkness that wasn’t there before, using the leverage he has to lean forward and secure you on his lap until you’re hanging by a thread over his knees, letting out a small yelp at the change in position that quickly dissipates into laughter.

“Darlin’, I’d rather show you.”

There’s a certain giddiness to your energies as you clumsily climb your way up the steps, Joel suddenly a lot more handsy than earlier as he grips at your hips, your thighs, pulling you in for quick, fleeting touches that tickle and have your breath catching in your throat until you can finally break away, nearly tripping into his bedroom before he catches you with a swift hand, shoving the door closed with his heel as he closes in on you, pulling your legs up around his hips in one heft of a motion, arm slung around your backside while the other paws at your thighs, make the small trek to his bed and resting you down slowly, chest heaving with a quickness.

A sudden dip in the bed has your ass nearing the edge but his legs are there to catch you, knees barely pressing against the end of the mattress while he reaches for the button on your pants wordlessly aside from the gaze he’s holding with you, his expression is rather flat (a little concentrated even) and he’s popping it open with ease, thick fingers sneaking around the waistband and tugging until there’s nothing left but a small snag at your ankle that he wrangles quickly, soothing the spot after with his thumb.

“M’sorry about earlier, again,” Joel finds himself apologizing, “never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable around me.”

“I wasn’t—I’m not,” It’s something you’re sure of, more so that anything right now, “I could’ve cleaned up the mess myself.”

Joel shrugs, large palm spreading over the width of your hips, thumbs pressed gently into the ridge of your hip bones as he folds your legs in closer from where they’re hooked around his own waist, the soft cotton dragging against denim and igniting a deep yearning that could only be satiated once he was inside you—it’s what you were hoping for, urging him closer with your foot as you nudged him forward.

“And you were so respectful,” You comment coyly, tilting your head up at him as you reach for the fabric of his shirt, grinding the wet heat of your cunt against the front of his jeans for friction, bottom lip pulled between your lip momentarily when it feels just a little too good, “didn’t even try to take a look, did you?”

Joel laughs quietly, a short huff through his nose when he shakes his head, “I tried—god, did I try—”

His thumbs dip lower, under the waistband over your underwear while his fingertips slide under your shirt, rubbing against the soft skin of your belly, your own hands coming down to claim his, pulling them higher until they settle over your breasts, completely bare underneath.

“I’ve been picturing it since I got home,” Joel admits, glancing up at the ceiling briefly in a desperate plea when he touches the bare skin, nipples pebbling against his touch and he squeezes greedily before he finally has the courage to look at you, watching as you pull the top over your head casually, “you’re poisonin’ my mind, sweetheart.”

It’s a compliment wrapped in some form of emotion you can’t decipher as his mouth drops open an inch, rubbing his thumb over the soft bud of your nipple until you grow impatient, a small whine of protest leaving your mouth as you reach the short distance between your bodies to rub against the swell of his jeans, “Not just that I hope.”

“You really want me to fuck you?” Joel asks sweetly, a little condescending with the way it’s delivered as he glares down at you, his touching lingering from your breasts as he slides a thumb over your clothed cunt, a gentle pressure against your clit until your breath stutters at the sensation. He says your name softly, a warning for your attention to be brought back to him. “Hey, need you with me—you like that? Getting fucked?”

You squeeze him firmly until it forces a chuckle out of his chest, his hand squeezing around your thigh to pull you taut, rocking his hips into the touch before swatting your hand away and working at his belt, jeans, everything keeping him constrained until he can finally reach his cock, working his boxers half away down his thighs and reaching for your hand again, wrapping your softer, less overworked hands around his dick until it registers in your head what he wants, his hand a guiding light as he builds a slow rhythm, squeezing your grip until it’s just right.

“Usually, yeah,” You nod, using your touch to admire every last bit of him, thumb drifting over the head of his cock as you squeeze tight, letting him buck into your touch impatiently—he’s breathing hard through his nose, eye contact more intense now that it ever has been, staring down at your over the bridge of his nose, all beautiful and godlike, sculpted to perfection, “feels good.”

It doesn’t matter if it’s been months. But it has. Almost a year, truthfully, and just by the quick glance you take at him—nothing compares. He doesn’t make a big deal about it, talk himself up like he’s everything you need. He wants to hear what you like, what you want.

“I can do that,” He obliges and suddenly his hand is hit against your folds, middle finger spreading you open gently, pressing against your opening testingly, “do what you like—or we can do things my way.”

“Your—your way?” You gasp softly, nodding without hearing what he has to say, “Yeah—fuck, your way is fine.”

“Didn’t even let me talk, sweet girl.” Joel remarks smugly.

But, it doesn’t matter. The second his finger breaches you fully it’s nothing but white noise, his thumb working just as tentatively at your clit.

Joel drones on anyways, his voice like a warm current as it guides you into a state of calm.

“I’ll get you there, real close, just like this,” He nudges his fingers against a soft spot inside of you that has your eyes squeezing shut, choking off a moan as you squeeze tight around his cock, hands moving a lot less now that he had you distracted, but Joel didn’t mind, “then I’ll fuck you, slow…hard, whatever you like, okay?” And there comes your name again, a bouy pulling you back to the surface as you nod, “But, fuck if I don’t take my time with you—I’m gonna save her for last,” He slips another finger in silently before pulling out and rubs the collected slick over your clit in a couple quick movements, “show her all the attention she deserves, right?”

“Joel,” You whine—a beg, a plea, just another reason to say his name so desperately, “Joel, please.”

“I gotcha,” He comforts, lifting a knee up to rest against the mattress, shifting your leg higher and switching up the angle entirely as it forces his fingers in deeper as he pushes back in, “relax, breathe, lean into it, baby.”

Letting yourself go, he means. The baby is an afterthought and maybe he doesn’t mean anything by it, but it doesn’t fail to send a flutter through your insides and somehow calm you in the same instance.

And really, nothing compares. He’s attentive in a way that’s new to you, never something you’ve experienced in the past and maybe it helps that he’s got a few years on you, or more experience, but it’s addictive—he’s got a hold on you that you can’t seem to break.

He listens to the way your breath buckles when he rubs your clit a little too fast, clearly nearing your edge quicker than he or you would like, but he knows just when to stop and slow down, fill you full of his fingers and keep you wanting more. He sees the subtle pull of your brow when he drags it on longer than you’re used to, that’s when he finally pulls away.

“Joel, can’t—“ You breath out tiredly, eyes closed and resting as you catch your breath, his hands nudging yours away from his cock as it bounces against his stomach, quickly shoving his jeans and underwear the rest of the way down, “want you inside, need you to fuck me like you—you said—“

He rubs a comforting hand against your stomach, up your sternum until he’s flat against the center of your chest and you’re looking at him again, more focused this time around.

“Scoot up,” He tells you softly, nodding while he reaches behind his head, yanking his shirt over his head in one fluid act, “get comfortable, sweetheart.”

He’s unabashed and cool in the way he holds himself before you, yielding a vulnerability that he never would’ve had with you if he hadn’t gotten to know to you more, if he didn’t have the chance to—he walks around the bed and to his nightstand a few feet away, admittedly littered in either dirty clothes or laundry he hadn’t put away yet, rustling through one of his top drawers for something you can only assume, his bare ass on display and in perfect view.

It’s something to admire, firm and toned from the heavy lifting and upkeep he kept on his body, through work and exercise, the muscles in his backs molding to each move he made as he stretched, rolling a tight shoulder as he closed the blinds a little tighter, turning to you then and switching on his bedside lamp, bathing the room in a soft glow that leaves you nowhere to hide from him.

Not that you felt the need to anymore. Maybe a few weeks ago, but definitely not now.

“Here,” He’s adjusting a pillow underneath your head as you lean forward, assuring you’re comfort as you nod to his waiting look, eyebrow raised slightly, “do you—I can turn that off if you want?” He rubs a curious hand down your chest again, clambering to settle between your legs as he kneels, cock hanging heavy between you as he rips the foil open quietly with his opposite hand, the other again, curious as he palms your breast, pointer finger dragging along the swell of it as he traces down to the underside, “I just—I like seein’ you.”

“It’s fine, Joel.” You answer him, stalling his movements with your touch as you trap his hand, watching as he spits away the foil and rolls the condom over his cock with ease, stroking languidly until he feels secure, somehow making the moment even more tender as he winds his fingers through your loose ones, subconsciously asking for the touch as he smile when your eyes catch his gaze.

“You let me know what you need,” He orders kindly, though there’s a sternness behind it, “I’ll be damned if you’re not gettin’ what you want, alright?”

You nod, inhaling silently on the first press of his head against your cunt, his shaft sliding against the center and coating in your wetness before he’s pushing in with a carefulness that’s indicated through the tight grip you have on his hand, loosening when he finally bottoms out.

Joel groans low, quiet, savoring how tight you’re gripping him in the moment, pulsating with need from how hard he’d edged you to near orgasm. He’s thankful, for once, because he’s not sure he has much will power to hold off either.

“Slow,” He reminds you, a gentle rock of his hips as he focuses his attention toward the point where you two meet, watching the way you pull him in with greed, fingers once twisted between his fingers now clawing tightly at the sheets, “shit—it’s been too long.”

You nod knowingly, other hand shifting to put space between you and the headboard, placing opposite pressure against the wood with your hand, in turn allowing you to gain some leverage and work yourself easier against Joel, whatever slow place he was going for quickly dissolving into madness, hands wild and gripping at whatever flesh it could reach.

“Oh, hell.” Joel groans, head tilted back and eyes squeezed shut for his own good, fingers digging into your thighs so he can fuck himself into you with fervor, your moans quickly morphing into pleas for, “more, more—please, Joel.”

“Gimme your hand,” He gruffs out, voice scratchy and raw, guiding your fingers until they lock around the back of your thigh, pushing until you’re spread wide and he’s guiding your other leg over his chest, ankle resting against his shoulder as he pulls out without warning to adjust himself, “you’re gonna hold yourself open, baby—keep yourself open for me.”

And then he’s sliding back in with no preamble or words of comfort, just a desperate slide of his body against your own, seeking to be back inside you.

The angle is almost unbearable this way, teetering on the edge of too much but whatever words you’re trying to form in your head aren’t making sense, eyes locked on Joel—all of him; his face and the subtle way his forehead creases, mouth dropping open wider when you clench down on him, gasping through every thrust of his hips, and his chest in the way it flexes as he pulls you tighter, biceps flexing as he strains, his own self control breaking down piece by piece. You’re mostly mesmerized by the way this angle gives an almost perfect view to watch him fuck up into you, the veins running along the side of his cock and how careful he is too pull all the way out before he’s driving you insane with the forceful thrusts he gives as he returns, his eyes flicking up briefly when he catches you staring.

“Oh, fuck—“ He huffs through a laugh, your name falling from his lips once more, “sweetheart, you’ve got no clue how good you feel.”

He moans a little louder, unrestrained and rough, almost like he’s growling with every sharp snap of his hips and it’s driving you insane, that subtle throb of need turning into an ache that had to be soothed.

“Joel…” You call out to him, sounding soft and broken.

He’s right there with you, ripping your hand away from where it’s latched to your thigh and bringing it between your legs, feeling exactly how wet you were for him, his thumb covering your own as he helped you start a steady rhythm against your clit.

“Look so pretty like this, sweetheart,” Joel notes, voice sounding even more strained, his grip growing tighter as he seeked to wrap you around him more, more, more, leaving your hand to wrap around the back of your thighs and push you apart, “I got you—come for me. Think you can do that?”

You nod absently, feeling like you were falling into a trance, a dark void that was just you and him and nothing else, touching yourself with an urgency that didn’t let up, fingers immediately speeding up when his hands moved away and he sees it, the desperation.

Joel chuckles to himself, a noise that breaks you from the haze as your eyes creep open, watching how he admired you openly with no shame, “Fuck—you really need it, don’t you?”

You can hear yourself, him—that wet squelch of arousal, skin against skin as he fucks into you with no restraint. You nod again, a quick jerky movement as you feel that familiar heat in your belly build, “Yesyes—god, Joel.”

And Joel soothes you every step of the way as it finally hits you, his hands giving your thighs that desperate relief they needed as he pulls you close, a hand cupping the back of your neck firm and tilting your chin up, lips dragging along yours without taking the step to press against them for a full kiss, a intimate moment of breathing against one another while Joel follows a few moments later, his hips rocking to a slow halt as he rides through the force of his orgasm, groaning deeply against your mouth as you feel everything calm around you, the soft hum of the fan on his dresser pulling you back to earth.

You want to kiss him so badly, watching him pull away for a brief second to check in with you, eyes scanning your face for anything—but you’re tired of overthinking so you do it, no second guessing, no worrying, cupping his face gently and pulling him in for a long, but simple kiss that feels like it could go on for eternity. He melts into it instantly, the firm grip on your neck softening to cradle your face, one of you (though, maybe both) eventually coming up for air with grins wider than you’ve ever seen.

There’s nothing left to do but feel it, both of you laughing into each other’s skin and that small snort of amusement slipping from you, feeling Joel mumble something against your collarbone but not asking him to repeat it, watching him smile to himself again as he rises on steady legs to dispose of the condom.

“How are you even—“ You giggle softly, rubbing a gentle hand over your face and through your hair, watching as he retreats toward his ensuite bathroom to retrieve something small, a tiny towel as he wipes up the last remnants of mess around you and his own body, but not yet reaching for you, “my legs are shaking, can you—“ You reach weakly for the towel.

But, he’s spreading out between your legs before you can protest, that smug fucking look on his face as he tosses the towel to the side and waits for you to finish.

You never do.

“Didn’t forget, did you?” Joel asks, eyebrows raised in question. “I’m takin’ my time, sweetheart.”

And the night lends all the time in the world, watching with a sated grin and tired eyes as Joel presses a kiss to your core and dives in, finding every last bit of you to taste, devour, savor in the off chance he never gets to experience this again.

“Pussy’s fuckin’ perfect, darlin’.” He murmurs—and how he manages to make that sound so endearing despite how depraved it actually is, you’ll never know.

He also really loves when you play with his hair, the delicate traces of your fingertips as you take through his soft tufts of brown and pull when things get a little too intense.

Joel brings you to a slow, but satisfying second orgasm that has you whining at how intense it feels after the first, gasping when his tongue works you through it and nearly has you cursing his name in a plea to stop, but he pulls away at the perfect moment, careful as he cleans you up now, not a word shared until he’s settled in the bed beside you, reaching to pull at the lamp string and let the room succumb to darkness.

Part of your brain thinks this should feel strange—screwing your neighbor after he’s been helping you out for weeks and building your furniture for free (technically), but Joel’s mind is elsewhere, rubbing softly at your side as he turns you in bed, pulling the sheets up over you both despite your obvious states of undress, clearly too tired to go searching for your clothes.

You want to make an excuse to leave. You do, but Joel quickly squashes that worry of making things weird by staying.

You can't see face but you hear him, lips brushing the top of your head as he speaks in a soft tone, “Sleep here,” He encourages you, but adding a quick, “if you want—only if you’re comfortable with it.”

“What about tomorrow?”

“Tommy’s pickin’ Sarah up for me in the morning,” He tells you, sensing your hesitation of an uncomfortable face to face the next morning, and you voice that to him softly, “don’t worry, I can sneak you out if it comes to that.”

Joel lends a soft touch to your thighs, still sore and shot from earlier as he squeezes the flesh gently.

“M’not gonna fuck you like that and let you leave,” and that shouldn’t make you feel the way it does, leaning into his touch a little further, wanting more, but it does, “somethin’ about you relaxes me, can’t put my finger on it.”

“The mind-blowing sex to start,” You joke lightly, speaking softly to him despite the empty house, “among other things.”

Joel’s laugh is the last thing you hear before you both lose the battle to exhaustion, curled around one another.

Tommy catches you in the kitchen nursing a cup of coffee before you even realize he’s inside, quiet as a mouse as Sarah trods up behind him and beyond, waving a quick greeting with no outward comment or acknowledgement on why you were here, at the Miller residence, somehow stuck in the middle of their morning routine as they readied for work around you.

“My brother?” He asks with a smile, polite but amused.

“Bathroom, shower.” You answer, watching him nod, digesting the context clues and laughing to himself.

You hand him a cup wordlessly, filling the coffee for him.

“Didn’t think he had it in ‘em.” Tommy comments off-handedly, blowing out a faint puff through his lips as he shakes his head, dipping his head into the fridge in search of breakfast.

Joel saves you soon after, walking you back to your house without a word to his brother aside from a quick shared look, one that reads him getting teased to all he’ll later.

There’s a silent agreement that’s made as Joel backs you against your front door, tilting your chin up briefly to press a chaste kiss to the side of your jaw, not quite your lips, not quite your cheek, but still somehow more sensual than it should be.

“I’ve got a lot of fixin’ to do, still,” You admit, “could really use your help—if you’re still offerin’.”

“At your service, sweetheart.”

Tommy’s waiting eagerly in the kitchen when Joel returns, digging into a blueberry muffin like an animal.

“You are so screwed, brother.”

And Joel knows it’s true.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal #my writing

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actualhumantrashcan · 1 year ago

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I can understand a silly workplace comedy about pirates not being everyone’s jam but I really can’t understand the amount of queer people I see hating on ofmd.

like for one thing most of the debates turn into gatekeeping queerness (which I think has a lot more to do with the ages of the main couples than actual concerns about authentic representation but that’s another post) and the rest are just hateful because it doesn’t directly name or label it’s queer characters but like why do we need that at this point?? listen I love heartstopper with all my heart but it is exhausting to watch them explain queer identities sometimes (even though I do think it’s super useful for younger audiences I’m just not the target demographic!) and ofmd is an explicit, violent, adult show that doesn’t NEED to explain it’s character’s identities.

queer people past their 30’s are usually very well aware of their queerness and have had (hopefully) plenty of time to go through the arc of discovering that. so why would we need to see Stede or Lucius or Ed going through turmoil because they’re attracted to men when they have already come to terms with that at this point in their lives?? i for one find it so fucking refreshing to watch a show where the characters being queer is not their main arc, they just ARE queer and life is still happening to and around them. maybe that’s just the millennial gay in me talking, but it gets emotionally exhaustive to watch show after show where the queer character’s arc is overcoming homophobia. yes obviously homophobia still exists and yes obviously if ofmd was trying to be historically accurate these characters would be living in a very dangerous time to be queer but it isn’t trying to be accurate!! it’s trying to be fun and diverse and kind!!

and also, they aren’t pretending homophobia doesn’t exist!! it’s just addressed in a different way. Stede was emotionally abused by his father for his entire life for being “soft” and then was chased down by his homophobic childhood bullies, one of which explicitly told him that he “defiled” the great pirate Blackbeard by simply falling in love with the man behind that name. Meanwhile Ed was forced into the world of piracy at a young age and developed the entire persona of Blackbeard (who fits the toxic, violent masculine stereotype of the time) to hide the fact that he’s actually an incredibly sensitive and deeply queer man! and is told multiple times by male figures in his life that sex with other men is fine but it is absolutely unacceptable to be in love with a man. both of their arcs contain homophobic rhetoric that is still present in society today, but its never presented as a problem that they have to wrestle with. they don’t have to come to terms with what it means to love each other, they just have to overcome some trials that go along with the complicated lives they both lead as a pirate and former aristocrat. the homophobia in ofmd is woven into the backstory of each and every character, it shapes them into the people they are at the beginning of the show when all of their walls are up and they are performing the “pirate” roles they are supposed to play. and then we get to see them grow and realize that they are in a safe space, part of a community not just on the ship itself but in the life of piracy (which in the show is pretty much explicitly an allegory for queer lifestyles.)

anyway, I could rant about this all day but just truly why do we have to tear people down for enjoying something? why do we have to find reasons to hate something so obviously created with sensitivity to it’s queer audience and with so much queer joy? if historically inaccurate gay pirates going on silly adventures and falling in love are not your thing, fine! but perhaps just let people enjoy things and find your own things to enjoy.

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd s2 #our flag means gay

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ismellbitches · 2 months ago

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I’m ill over the albatrio so yall get my head canons. Some of these are a bit heavy and deal with abuse, trauma and similar themes. Maybe skip this one if you don’t feel up for it 🩷🩷

Jay:

- Kira was her bisexual awakening. They went on a summer camp together and kissed while on a hike. Neither of them have brought it up since.

- She has such bad anxiety bro. Like she is always using nervous energy to complete projects or to fight, but every few days she would just get paralysed by overwhelming anxiety and shut down. Once she shut down in front of chip, now he tries to help her in any way he can when she starts getting too worked up.

- she has a complicated relationship with gender. She’s explored a lot of different things gender wise, but doesn’t quite feel comfortable with any label she has found. She ended up talking to Jaz a bit about it when they were travelling together.

- She enjoys textile work and makes and mends most of her clothes

- She used to only be toned before her time on the Albatross, but she now has a much bulkier build.

- Her favourite subject was math

- She still has a fat crush on Anastasia

- she got a lip ring to match Chip

- She doesn’t like getting drunk around people because she thinks it makes her too honest.

Gillion:

- He loves physical touch. He used to receive so little of it in the Undersea that it is still very hard for him to iniate, but he will always lean into hugs or captain huddles like it’s the most beautiful thing in the world.

- Gillion is sex-repulsed. That’s it.

- He has a bad habit of digging his claws into the nearest person or object when he feels unsafe or ungrounded. There are so many deep gouges in the captains quarters from times where the ship would rock or he felt particularly unsafe.

- he doesn’t like to think. This one sounds weird but let me cook. It’s not for a lack of intelligence or that he doesn’t consider things deeply, it’s that when he thinks he tends to spiral, and when he spirals it is difficult for him to work. This is reflected in his reckless battle tactics, he has enough ambient knowledge to be a good tactician, but fighting is when he can fully allow instinct to take over. It makes him feel at ease.

- he has a mental list of the awful names his masters would call him. But, during his time in the Oversea, the mental list has been overwhelmed by pet names and compliments given by his fellow captains.

- Sunlight is harsh on his eye so he relies on Jay and Chip more in harsh daylight for perception and awareness.

- he likes to braid ropes, bracelets, hair. Anything he can idly do with his hands when he isn’t working

- he likes to speak Aquan with Jay. It makes him still feel connected to his home.

Chip:

- normally the instigator of any small fights between the captains. He’s so used to always having to be guarded it regularly comes as a point of conflict.

- the ice arena battle deeply wounded his trust is Gillion and Jay. He had just started to feel safe and as though he didn’t deserve to be hurt when he made mistakes, so he felt really betrayed and abandoned after the first ice arena battle. Part of him still isn’t over it.

- He’s sensitive. Reuben used to criticise how easily words and insults affected him, so he presents it a lot less than he used to. But slight criticism or irritation with him or insults really deflate his self worth.

- Chip has a complex about being the weakest link on the Albatross

- After the Black Sea, the thought of seeing Ollie in his undead state is so nauseating it makes him fall over

- The best hug he’d ever received was from Reuben. He was young, sick and hungry and it was storming fiercely on Skullslice. Reuben had held him tight and refused to let him go for the whole night, just hugging Chip while he cried.

- If he could choose any superpower, he’d want the ability to pause, rewind, or fast forward time. Also lasers.

- He has a stuffed animal in the bottom of his trunk that he’s owned since he was 4.

- It took him a long time to figure out how old he was. He didn’t know his birthday, so he ended up choosing one. He ended up picking the day Arlin has let him into the Black Rose

- He’s never tried chocolate.

- He finds Queen really pretty, but in like a platonic, gender-envy type beat

- he has a secret love for writing. He writes poetry, little stories and more, he keeps them buried at the bottom of his trunk because he’s scared of what the others will think if they see it.

- his love language is acts of service

- him, Gil and jay cuddle a lot. Don’t read into that weirdly, all the captains just really need a hug

- he holds people’s hands a lot. It’s unconscious and when he catches himself doing it he immediately stops, but Jay and Gil don’t mind.

- Gil was his gay awakening in the sense that he fell really hard for Gil as a person. But, Jaz was like huge for him because he was just like holy fuck this dude is so pretty what do I do the whole time they travelled together.

- La Alma is on his heart me out cake

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sillyscientists · 5 months ago

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gimmw your gfalls hcs NOEWWW

oh god! I have soooo many but i'll put some basic ones down for the pines family rn and probably add on to this later ^_^

Dipper

◇ First of all this boy is absolutely autistic. My little autistic ass acted so much like him as a kid, I mean, what autistic 12 year old wouldn't base their entire summer around a weird book full of monsters they found?

◇ I think he's a trans dude and aro/ace, and that his crush on Wendy was more comphet than anything. I'm not really a fan of any ship involving him but I think platonic dipcifica could be cute.

◇ Cryptozoology/The Paranormal is absolutely his main special interest, but he also has an sp/in in computers/comp sci (but he's honestly not great at computer stuff).

Mabel

◇ AuDHD Queen! I think her main special interest is absolutely arts / crafts, I mean look at all the silly things she makes throughout the series as well as her dedication to handmaking dozens of puppets/props/etc as well as writing and entire play to impress her crush of the week in Sock Opera. ◇ I think sexuality wise she's not straight but prefers to be unlabelled. I also like to think she's the type to collect xenogenders / neopronouns like pokemon cards. ( she totally uses a bunch of cat-based pronouns) ◇ Shortly after the series I think she'd get a little less Boys-Crazy and focus more exploring who she is as a person / her self expression. Absolutely is gonna have a mall goth/emo/scene phase (she's smushing all three of those together into one thing for herself).

(I also think Mabel and Dipper were born identical twins)

Grunkle Stan

◇ Also AuDHD, not quite sure what his big main special interest would be but he's absolutely hyperfixated on Ducktective. Also going off the story in Lost Legends I think he'd absolutely be getting into making comics / drawing in general (even if hes not great at it). Post series I think he'd spend a lot of his free time out at sea drawing in the boat's cabin. Mostly making comics of silly re-tellings of he and Ford's adventures out at Sea (he absolutely shows Dipper and Mabel these if he and Ford video calls them when they're on land) ◇ I'm a transfem Stanley truther. He doesn't really realize/come to terms with it until post-series. I think she'd just grow out her hair and throw it in a pony-tail + use she/he pronouns to transition. She'd still use the name Stanley and be fine with both masc/fem terms (ie fine be called a man or a woman). Also he's bisexual (but has known this since he was like a teen, even if he didn't have the words to label it.) ◇ I think his Popsicle addiction from the unaired pilot is real and canon. Old autistic men love popsicles just look at my dad and grandfather.

Ford

◇ oh boy its projection time (i am a stanford pines fictive) 😈😈😈

◇ Transmasc, somewhere under the nonbinary umbrella but very guy adjacent. Mainly uses he/him pronouns but I think he'd use "it" and "they" aswell. Gay and Arospec as well. ◇ Autism + NPD + Schizophrenia wombo combo. He's sooooo NPD coded its INSANE, I am going to write an essay about it in the future. Goes without saying that his special interests are the paranormal and various sciences, but I think he has a hardcore love for the arts as well. ◇ Going off both the autism and arospec HC- I think he's the type to convince himself he has a crush very easily, when in reality he just has a strong admiration / platonic love for those in question, and had strong platonic feelings for McGucket back in college that he confused for romantic ones (projecting 100000000%) (i think the Stan twins were fraternal twins)

#gravity falls #gravity falls headcanons #gravity falls hcs #dipper pines #mason pines #mabel pines #stanley pines #grunkle stan #stanford pines #ford pines

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marlynnofmany · 3 months ago

Text

Digital Billboards and Bumper Stickers

I handed another can of food to Eggskin, thinking idle thoughts about skin and scale color. Neither of us were what I considered kindergarten-crayon colors, though I was somewhere in the white-brown-pink area while they were a yellow-green-white. Someday I’d ask them if they knew their scales were the color of human boogers (no I wouldn’t).

Really I was thinking about that to avoid reading the labels of the food, since most of them had my alien crewmates in mind, and looked profoundly unappealing to me. This stack was mostly bug paste. Some cans were shelled, and some unshelled. Flavored with the highest quality algae. Bluh.

“That’s the last of these,” I said happily, handing it over.

Eggskin placed it on the shelf and looked thoughtfully down at the counter still strewn with shelf-stable food. “Let’s do the seed paste next. Leave the herb stalks out; I’ll want to use them sooner than the rest.”

Following their pointing claw, I located the jars of peanut-butter-adjacent food, and the narrow boxes that I’d thought were spaghetti. “Got it.” I shoved the boxes aside and started passing the jars to Eggskin for placement. Reorganizing the shelves was a lot of work. I could see why they’d asked for assistance. At the very least, it would have gotten boring after a while.

Eggskin asked, “So what was the captain grumbling about just now?”

I thought back to when Eggskin had recruited my help from outside the cockpit. I’d only been there to bring Wio the water bottle she’d left in the lounge, but it had been long enough to pick up the gist of the conversation. “All the ships in this area have extra information on their ID’s, and they keep popping up as images overlaying the map, making it hard to see where everything is.”

Eggskin turned with the speed of a striking snake. “What area? Where are we going? I knew I should have checked the schedule.”

“I didn’t catch the name,” I said, but Eggskin was already racing for the door.

“Put away the jars, please; I’ll get the rest later!”

I paused for a moment, then hurried to put all the seed paste jars next to the cans of bug paste, labels forward and in neat rows. Then I ran after Eggskin.

When I arrived at the cockpit, I found our ship’s cook/medic with a hand on Wio’s chair, pointing something out to the captain.

Captain Sunlight sat in the copilot’s seat, frowning at the screen. Many colors reflected off her bright yellow scales, glowing from the mishmash of light that was normally a dark starfield. “If we make that much of a detour, we won’t be able to make the delivery on time. We’ll just have to go dark on communications until we get there.”

Eggskin made a concerned noise as Wio tapped several buttons with her tentacles. The room was suddenly darker as all the company logos and custom images blinked out of sight. The screen now held the usual blackness of space, speckled with stars — one close enough to be called a sun — and a variety of ships mostly heading to or from a distant space station shaped like a tube. There were also far more asteroids hanging around than I was entirely comfortable with.

But before I could ask about that, the music started.

I think it was music. “What is that?” I asked at the jumble of sound. It sounded like several radio stations at once, some playing recognizable instruments, some talking, and others making what sounded like rude noises.

In a tone of defeat, Eggskin said, “The ads and taunts can detect visual sensors. Some ships target outsiders in exactly our position: no time or money to buy a blocker.”

Wio made a rude sound of her own and turned the volume down.

Captain Sunlight was still frowning. “I don’t want to speak ill of anyone else’s way of life, but this is terrible.”

Eggskin gripped both chairs, eyes trained on the screen. “It’s one of many reasons why I left. You’ll want to keep that big ship between us and the station for as long as you can.” They pointed briefly. “Or else we’ll have a Core on our tail wanting to fine us for flying blind.”

“Terrible,” the captain repeated. But she instructed Wio to do as they said, while aiming for one specific asteroid that hadn’t come onscreen yet.

This seemed like a good time to ask. “Why are there so many asteroids this close to the station?”

Captain Sunlight flicked a glance at me, possibly only now noticing I was there in the doorway.

Eggskin answered without turning. “It was meant to be a tourist attraction, but the company got bought out and the project abandoned. Now half of the gravity engines are failing, and reputable businesses are leaving the area.”

Wio said, “It still looks awfully busy.”

“That would be the disreputable sorts. If you see a triangle where the stars disappear for a moment, fly at max speed in the other direction, never mind the delivery time.”

Captain Sunlight turned her frown on Eggskin. “It’s that extreme of a danger?”

The hands on both chairs tightened. “Yes.”

I studied the screen for any sign of disappearing stars. Black ships in the blackness of space were uncommon back in familiar territory, for the simple reason that they risked having someone crash into them and atomize both ships. But it sounded like someone here considered that a risk worth taking so they could sneak up on others. I didn’t ask what they did when they succeeded.

We spent a tense few minutes flying in silence, with no sign of invisible ships and only a few pop-ups. Apparently even flying blind couldn’t block all of them out. At least these were mostly informational things on the asteroids themselves, defunct notifications about events and attractions that had never been finalized.

One ship that looked cobbled together from spare parts had a blank panel above the thrusters that drew my eyes with how bright white it was. Eggskin stared at it intently. “This could be nothing,” they said, “But it could be important. Use a tight-beam scan for that panel.”

Wio did. As if the ship was just waiting for someone to look, it accelerated away and produced an image that glowed on our screen after it was long gone. The stylized pair of shapes were vaguely familiar.

While Eggskin made a disappointed grumble, I asked, “What is that? I’ve seen that symbol on the back of a racing ship.”

“I believe,” said Captain Sunlight, “It is an insult. A view of the bottoms of the pilot’s feet as they swim or fly away from you.”

“Oh,” I said. “Huh. I guess it’s like mooning someone. Or an ‘Eat my dust’ bumper sticker.”

Before anyone could ask what human nonsense I was talking about, Wio spotted the meeting location. “This one, right?” she asked the captain. “The mid-sized flat one?”

Captain Sunlight consulted a smaller screen. “That is where they said to meet. But they also said they would be here before us, ready to rush off as soon as they got our delivery.”

Wio and Captain Sunlight inspected the surrounding area for other ships, which all seemed to have left. I kept watching the stars, sparing a glance for Eggskin, who looked more intense than ever.

“Scan the landing area,” they said suddenly.

The message that popped up this time was a simple text one, in a language I didn’t recognize.

But Eggskin did. “Thought so. Send a tight-beam message back to open the drop box. This message.” They rattled off a string of numbers that Wio dutifully copied down and sent. I saw the captain also copy it onto her notepad with an expression that suggested she had some questions for Eggskin later.

Lo and behold, the flat part of the asteroid rolled back into an empty space that could have fit a ship larger than ours. The light of the distant sun showed it to be empty.

Captain Sunlight sat back, exasperated. “Where did they go?”

Wio said, “There’s a ship over there. Is that them?” She turned our view to show a speedy little junker careening between the asteroids toward us.

“I don’t think so,” the captain said. “Unless they had to use a different ship.”

A patch of stars behind it winked out. I pointed. “Invisible ship!”

Before Wio could hit the thrusters, Eggskin commanded, “Get in the drop box!”

Wio threw a glance at Captain Sunlight, who nodded. Wio sent our little courier ship diving into the secret hidey-hole, folding the solar sails and transmitting the other message Eggskin gave her to close the hatch.

It was very dark inside that drop box. I thought briefly about the rest of the crew, who had no idea how much danger they were in. I didn’t even know how much danger we were in. But I suspected it was a lot.

Eggskin said, “We should be safe after a few minutes. Given their trajectory, they were chasing that other ship. Even if they saw us, they’ll be busy.”

Wio asked, “These aren’t the people who will fine us, are they?”

“No,” Eggskin said firmly. “The Core will fine you, because they’re what passes for a police force out here. Spherical ships, like a planet’s core. That,” they said, pointing emphatically, “Was a Lancer. They will dismantle your ship, sell it for scrap, and sell you to a work camp. No, the Core won’t stop them. Yes, it’s terrible.”

The captain nodded. “One of the many reasons why you left.”

“Yes.”

“Well, we very much appreciate your expertise today!”

“I’m just glad I realized where we are,” Eggskin said. “I’ll make a point of checking the schedule more regularly.”

“And I will make a point of not accepting deliveries for this part of space, no matter how much they pay,” the captain said wryly.

We sat there a little while longer, until Eggskin said it was safe to open the hatch. All the stars were in place as we ventured out. Nothing moved, not even any drifting bits of dismantled ship. Good news.

But also bad news, since we still didn’t know where our client was.

“I will be extremely disappointed if all this risk was for nothing,” Captain Sunlight said. “Eggskin, are there likely to be other drop boxes nearby that they could have hidden in?”

Eggskin let out a breath. “If there are, I won’t know the codes for them.”

The captain made another note to herself, and told Wio to search the area for other likely asteroids. I did my part by continuing to watch the stars, just in case.

Wio said, “Most of these have a flat enough area to land on.”

Eggskin put in, “By design.”

“Should I turn the communications back on, to look for markers?” Wio asked. “There are no other ships over here to jam our screen.”

Eggskin muttered, “Optimistic.”

Captain Sunlight said, “Do it.”

The drifting space rocks were suddenly festooned with logos. It wasn’t as bad as before, but it wasn’t great. They were all old and glitchy.

Wio turned the volume up slightly, just enough to hear that any audio messages had dissolved into static. “If anybody spots something promising, sing out.”

We all watched the screen as Wio slowly toured the area. A couple of asteroids had newer pop-ups, but these were clearly graffiti: messages about how somebody was the envy of this half of the galaxy, or how whoever was reading the message should go stick their tail in a thruster.

“What species made most of this?” Wio asked.

“The original owners were Frillians,” said Eggskin. “Though that graffiti clearly wasn’t.”

“And what species is our client?” Wio asked the captain. “Or is it a mixed ship?”

Captain Sunlight glanced down at her notes, then up at me. “Human.”

Oh. No pressure. “I haven’t seen anything yet that looks particularly human-ish,” I said. “But I’ll look.” I gave up on the stars for now, and stared at the asteroids. “Are those two just extra flat, or do they have panels like that one ship did?”

Wio dutifully moved closer and scanned the two that I pointed out. One was a political slogan about something Waterwill-related from several years ago.

The other one was music. The volume was still quiet, but I recognized it. As Wio turned up the sound of synthetic drumbeats, I grinned at the old Earth anthem.

This asteroid was equipped with a rickroll.

“That’s a human thing,” I said. “Check that one.”

Wio took us closer, then she sent a short-range communication ping, the equivalent of knocking on the door.

And lo and behold, something pinged back and the door opened. A ship floated out that was sleek and aerodynamic, and painted in a camouflage pattern that did absolutely nothing to disguise it against the rock. I burst out laughing as Captain Sunlight hailed them to confirm that they were indeed the people we’d come to meet. I tried to laugh quietly.

With the drop box closed again, there was space for both small ships to land side by side. Theirs even had an extendable airlock that matched up with ours, saving everyone the inconvenience of getting into exo suits and doing the handoff in whatever atmosphere still clung in the artificial gravity.

I got to do the honors, with Captain Sunlight at hand close behind. I suspect she would have preferred to do it herself, but her little lizardy arms weren’t up to carrying a box this size, and there wasn’t space in the airlock for a hover sled. Simpler to just let the tall human do it.

The airlock opened to show a guy who looked malnourished, stressed, and very relieved to see me. “So glad you found us,” he said in an unfamiliar accent, grabbing the payment tablet before I could offer it. “It’s just one thing after another these days.”

“I bet,” I said. “Have you considered leaving? I have it on good authority that life is terrible around here.”

He handed the tablet back. “Thought about it. Dunno what we’d do for a living.”

I gave him the box, which according to the manifest included fresh chicken eggs, kosher salt, and a selection of media from Earth. “Have you considered a career as a courier?”

He smiled. “I’ll mention it to the crew.”

As he stepped back onto his own ship, I called, “Feel free to follow us out! We probably won’t get caught by anybody horrible on the way!”

I heard a chuckle as the door closed.

Once the airlocks were sorted away and everybody was back in position, Wio took us up from the asteroid, and back toward civilized space. I watched from the doorway while Eggskin kept an eye out for dangers. We made it out of the asteroid zone safely.

And so did the other ship, following close behind us.

~~~

Thanks to everybody who joined in the discussion of spaceship bumper stickers and related things, particularly @lillyjen and @voodootortoise!

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

#while last week's story was slapstick shenanigans #this one involves real danger #but don't worry; everybody makes it out okay #this just takes place in a region we haven't been to yet #with inspiration taken from The Murderbot Diaries #and also from a couple great ideas from a thread a few weeks back #bumper stickers #and related things #science fiction #my writing #The Token Human #haso #hfy #eiad #humans are space orcs #and of course there's that one thing I'd like to tag for #but it would give it away #and we can't have that #enjoy!

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