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fredwkong · 11 months ago

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The Voice in Your Head

Graham was excited about moving into his new apartment. It was in a nice part of town, with good transit access to his job, plus it was pretty spacious for the price. Graham could just picture himself, his plants, maybe a boyfriend, all fitting neatly into the apartment, with its nice hardwood floors and retrofit kitchen.

So, he was quite surprised, on moving day, when the neighbour across the hall grabbed his arm and pulled him aside. “There’s something weird about that unit,” the guy hissed in a low voice.

“What are you talking about?” Graham frowned. This guy looked totally ordinary in every way, in his button-up shirt and neatly parted hair. There was no way he was some crazy conspiracy nut.

“The guys who live in there,” the guy continued, seeming frantic, “they change. Most of them get spooked and move out in a few weeks. I’ve never seen one last longer than two months. That’s why the rent is so low.”

“Bull.” Graham tugged himself free. “What is this, some kind of weird building hazing or something? What a way to greet a neighbour.”

As he marched away to unlock the door for the movers, Graham felt his new neighbour’s eyes on his back.

Even though he did his best to put the strange conversation out of his mind, Graham kept thinking about the guy’s words as he unpacked for the rest of the day. He had seemed way too sincere for a prank.

At one point, one of the movers gave a sudden shudder and dropped a box full of Graham’s work shirts and coat hangers. “Sorry,” he muttered, blinking away the wild look in his eyes as his coworkers stared, “there was a...smell.” Graham noticed that he was one of the first to leave the apartment to go wait in the moving van once everything was carried in.

Left alone after the movers set up the basics—bed, couch, dining table, desk, TV stand—Graham stood in the kitchen, trying to recapture his excitement for the new apartment. He couldn’t help feeling like the sunlight through the big windows of the living room looked a little watery, like it couldn’t fully enter the space. Even though it was nice and warm inside the apartment, Graham felt strangely clammy, and he couldn’t settle down.

In an attempt to use the restless energy, Graham paced to the bedroom and cut open his boxes of work clothes. He had a pretty ordinary cubicle job, so there was a certain standard of professionalism to meet, but Graham also loved business clothes. Getting dressed for work, for Graham, was like putting on a professional person, like he could pretend to be someone else for 8 hours a day. He had dozens of slim-fit button-ups for his skinny body, perfectly chosen to match his pale skin. Matching sets of slacks and blazers quickly filled the closet.

The action was soothing, and pretty soon Graham was unpacking his loafers. He’d cleaned them before putting them in the box, but he decided to give them a quick polish before putting them on the shoe rack. As he went to get a rag, Graham suddenly thought, I bet those won’t fit for long.

He stopped, halfway to the kitchen. The thought had been so out of character and strange. But, it sounded like his internal voice. It was a weird feeling.

Don’t worry about it.

Graham shook his head and resolved not to worry about it, grabbing the rag and putting his shoes away.

That night, Graham had trouble getting to sleep. It was like he couldn’t get warm, even under all the covers. He tossed and turned until, finally, he drifted off.

It was still dark when his eyes opened. Somewhere around 4 AM. Feeling strangely detached from himself, Graham swung out of bed and padded to the bathroom.

Looking into the mirror in the darkness, Graham found himself stripping out of his silk pyjamas to see his own skinny, pale body. His lips moved, and Graham heard himself mumble, “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

As if puppeted by someone else, Graham’s body moved through a series of bodybuilding poses. “There’s potential, though,” he heard himself mumble into the darkness.

He lifted up his arm and stuck his nose into his armpit, frowning. “Don’t worry, dude, you’re in good hands,” Graham’s voice told him. “I’ll go slow so you don’t get spooked.” Then he chuckled to himself. “Heh, spooked.”

The morning sun had Graham blinking awake. He’d had a strange dream, talking to himself in the bathroom. But as he pushed aside the covers, Graham frowned. He was naked, even though he always slept in pyjamas.

The pyjamas were on the bathroom floor, tossed carelessly. Well, Graham thought, maybe he’d overheated…while on the toilet.

Anyway, he’d been too tired to take a shower last night, but he definitely needed one before work today. Graham stepped into the shower and turned the tap, but was disappointed to hear a gurgling somewhere in the pipes. Only a few drops came out.

One more day won’t hurt.

“One more day won’t hurt,” Graham said, vocalising what his inner voice had said. He would email the building manager and get the shower fixed today. In the meantime, he applied a few extra layers of deodorant and fixed his hair as best as he could.

Still, Graham was self-conscious all day. He dreaded any coworker getting close enough to smell him or notice that his skin was a little greasy. By lunch break, he had rehearsed in his head a whole speech about walking to work to explain why he was so gross. It was a relief when the clock hit 5 PM and no one commented.

The repair man was standing outside Graham’s apartment when he got home, and he let them in. Apparently, there was nothing obviously wrong with the shower. It even ran on the repair man’s first try at turning the tap. Still, the man recommended that Graham put aside some tap water in case it kept acting up. At least he could take a sponge bath.

No problem, it’s not an urgent fix.

“No problem, it’s not an urgent fix.” Graham wasn’t sure why he’d said that. It was like someone else had spoken through his lips. It was kind of urgent to have regular showers. But he shook hands with the repair man and smiled as he saw him out. If the shower was just randomly acting up, he’d learn to adapt to it.

The guy across the hall looked out his door while Graham stood there, thinking through the strange thought he’d had. “You okay?” he asked. “Nothing…weird happening in there?”

Nothing to worry about.

“Nothing to worry about.” Graham smiled at his neighbour. Yeah, he was feeling pretty relaxed. With his move done, he really did have nothing to worry about. He was just jittery about his new place. “Graham, by the way.”

“Leo,” said the neighbour, still looking rather nervous. “You sure? Usually, guys go screaming down the hall their first night, yelling about feet and nightmares, like they're being haunted.”

Not this time.

“Not this time.” Maybe Leo really was some kind of conspiracy theorist. Graham still had more unpacking to do. “Nice to meet you.” He closed the door.

First things first, though, Graham wanted to finally get his first shower in his new place. He went and turned the tap.

Nothing.

Graham took a deep breath to calm himself down and went to fill a pot with water from the kitchen sink.

Hahahahaha. Laughter filled his mind. Graham froze in the middle of the kitchen. No matter what, his mental voice laughing at him couldn’t be a good sign, right?

The only thing to do with a problem is laugh.

That logic seemed sound. It wasn’t the way Graham usually dealt with problems, though. He was the kind of guy who tended to panic at the slightest opportunity.

He must be maturing.

Chuckling a bit to himself, Graham went to get his basin of water for a sponge bath.

The sponge baths really weren’t so bad, and by the time the shower started working randomly a few days later, Graham couldn’t find any of his soap or shampoo. He had a vague memory of dreaming that he’d thrown them out, but that was ridiculous. Every time he thought about getting more bathing supplies, he’d have the thought that it was just a lot of effort. He was doing fine with water alone, why complicate it?

One night a week or so after his move, Graham found himself staring at his ceiling late in the night. He must be dreaming again. He felt his lips move. “I think I’m gonna try moving in for real, just a bit. Don’t mind me.”

Suddenly, Graham’s feet went ice cold, and a strange, wet, slippery sensation slid into his feet. They felt…tight, like they were overfull somehow.

“Yeah, you’re gonna be a tight fit. Don’t worry, I’ll work you in slowly,” said Graham’s mouth.

Still with that strange, distant sensation, as if he wasn’t in control of his body, Graham sat up in bed and swung his feet to the floor. He watched as his toes wriggled and something shifted under the skin. They did look a little bloated. Over several minutes, Graham watched like a passenger while his feet flexed back and forth, looking a little larger with each twist of the arch and ankle. Dark hair began to sprout on his growing toes.

At last, they seemed to stabilise, and Graham’s body lifted his right foot up. A faint, but distinctive, aroma rose from the massive sole. “Mmm, smells like being alive,” said Graham’s mouth with a smirk.

The next morning, Graham laid in bed for a long time. He’d never been a foot guy, so this dream was especially strange. He realised, thinking back on it, that his cock had, in fact, been hard the entire time. There was even a stain in his Calvins—somehow, every night he’d worn pyjamas to bed he’d tossed them off while dreaming—like he’d had a wet dream.

When he got out of bed, he wondered why his feet looked oddly tan against the skin of his legs. And, later, why they felt strangely snug in his loafers. They pinched where they had felt perfectly comfortable before.

When he got home, it was a relief to tear his shoes off, but Graham wrinkled his nose at the sharp aroma emanating from his sweaty socks. That was it, he resolved, he needed to stop procrastinating and wash himself properly again.

But it is sort of hot.

Graham paused as he was about to start making a shopping list. If he really thought about it, the scent was kind of hot. No one had mentioned that Graham wasn’t soaping up his body or deodorizing anymore. The smell from his feet hadn’t bothered anyone. It was like it was his own little dirty secret. Like another role he could play underneath his work role.

And the smell really was sort of attractive.

“New shoes” went on the shopping list.

Some sneakers, too. To get really smelly.

Right, Graham didn’t want to mess up any work shoes as he experimented with this new interest of his. “Sneakers.”

It was like his dream had opened a floodgate. Every night, Graham dreamed of his feet growing erotically, and each day they were just a bit larger, with just a bit more stink built up on them. In his dreams, Graham talked to himself, talking about getting gym equipment, a bunch of new clothes, even about how boring Graham found his job.

More and more, Graham found himself agreeing with his dreaming self. One evening, he put a bunch of gym equipment into his Amazon cart, then turned off his computer. Gym stuff cost a lot of money, he needed to be sure he wanted to buy it. But that night, he dreamed about sitting at his computer to finalise the order, and the equipment arrived a few days later. At that point, it seemed like a waste to return it, so Graham set it up in the spare room, where he had originally planned to have a library.

Books are boring.

Graham had decided books were boring.

Any time he was at home now, Graham kept finding himself thinking, “I should do a few reps.” The results were unbelievable, with muscles thickening all over his body in what seemed like just a few days. It wasn’t long before Graham was outgrowing all of his clothes, quickly wearing out three new pairs of jeans in as many weeks.

Sweats are better anyway.

Graham’s new fitness obsession extended into his dreams, too. The cold, slippery sensation still enveloped his feet every night, but it also covered most of his body now. In his dreams, Graham would feel himself get out of bed and strut to the bathroom to pose and flex as his muscles grew larger and larger, until they bulged off his frame.

Once his muscles had grown thick and tanned dark, Graham’s dreams went in a few different directions. Often, he would watch in the mirror as he sniffed his armpits or feet, jacking the thick, musky foreign cock that had grown in place of his average, cut dick. Sometimes, Graham would hear himself say, “Nah, needs some more,” after sniffing himself. Then, he would go to his home gym and pump out reps until he was coated in sweat.

He always woke up aching and coated in stale sweat after those dreams, with a pungent scent emanating from his armpits and shockingly larger feet.

Every few nights, Graham had a dream where he would run his thick, callused hands over his neck and face, subtly pinching and compressing his face until a handsome stranger looked back at him in the mirror. “There, that’s the real me,” he would say to himself in a deep, smokey voice.

After those dreams, Graham was always surprised to see his normal face in the mirror. And yet, there would be a familiar sharpness to his jaw, or the set of his dark eyebrows, that reminded him of the face in his dreams.

The world outside his apartment felt increasingly strange. It was like a part of his internal voice was missing. He had trouble understanding his own thoughts, now. It was like he was a jumble of two different people. Had he really used to spend most of his free time reading library books? Was he really the kind of guy who didn’t put himself up for a bonus at the end of the year?

The apartment was safe and secure. It was like Graham’s mind was wrapped in calm and good sense as soon as he walked in. His mind spoke louder, which let him make better decisions, like the time that he wore sweats and T-shirt to work. It had made perfect sense when he walked out the door, but then he had stumbled over his words when he tried to explain to his boss why he was dressed appropriately for work.

Long story short, Graham was arriving home early today. He was just unlocking his door when Leo came barrelling up the stairs in running gear. He stopped when he spotted Graham, just stepping over the threshold and into the wonderful calm of his apartment.

“Who are—Graham?” Leo stared at him. “Is that really you?”

Graham looked down at himself, then back over at Leo. “Uh, yeah?”

“No way. You’re so…muscular and tan. I barely recognise your face.”

“Yeah, I had a bit of a growth spurt.” Graham flexed a bicep with a grin.

“A growth spurt powered by anabolics and a talented plastic surgeon, sure,” Leo was frowning at him.

Graham was kind of offended by his rude neighbour. He’d put a lot of hard work into this body!

Yeah, I have. Get him in the apartment.

“Look,” Graham sighed, the words spilling from his lips like in his dreams, “I’ve had a bad day. Just come inside if you want to talk.”

Leo seemed to hesitate, just for an instant. “But that’s the—“

“Either get inside, or get out of my face.” Graham’s voice sounded a bit gruff to his ears, beyond just the depth that it had gained over the months he’d lived here. It was like it was another man’s voice.

Leo shook himself. “Okay.” He steeled himself and followed Graham over the threshold.

Perfect.

“Whew, it’s ripe in here, man,” Leo observed. “Do you ever shower?”

“Just with cold water.” Graham kicked out of his sneakers, freeing his massive, socked feet and stretching them out. More and more, he felt separate from his body, as if he was watching it move. Still, it hadn’t done anything he wouldn’t have done, he thought. He was just playing another role.

“Well, clearly, it’s not…enough…” Graham watched, his mouth held in a strange smile, as Leo seemed to lose his train of thought. The man’s nostrils flared, and he swayed slightly.

“Yeah, not so mighty and judgmental anymore,” said Graham’s voice. “You’ve forced me to move up my schedule a bit, but it’s not a problem.”

Leo licked his lips before answering. “Sorry, sir,” he said thickly.

“You’re the guy who’s been helping my potential bodies escape, aren’t you?”

“I warn them about this apartment…I keep listings for new places they can go…” Leo’s eyes started to clear, and he shook his head. “No, wait, what the fuck—“

In a flash, Graham leapt into action. He didn’t know how he got one of his sneakers in his hand, but he grabbed Leo in a headlock and shoved his face into the putrid interior. “Nuh-uh-uh, no escapes or exorcisms this time,” Graham’s voice whispered, as Leo thrashed in his strong arms. “The more you fight, the more you fall. Isn’t it hot? My sexy, sweaty new body all around you, and the smell and taste of my foot musk all over your face?”

As Graham spoke, Leo’s struggles weakened. Graham watched with amusement as they both slumped to the floor, a rock-hard boner growing in Leo’s running shorts.

Finally, Graham’s grip on the sneaker loosened, even as Leo reached up to hold it himself. “Look, this is all just a misunderstanding,” Graham’s said soothingly. “You’ve thought I was a sexy beast since I moved in, right? You loved my big, musky muscles and my foot stink. That’s why you made up that story about a haunted apartment.”

Leo’s eyes seemed to be rolling uncontrollably in his head, but he nodded.

“Now I’ve finally noticed you and invited you inside. You just couldn’t help yourself, you foot slut. You were gonna tackle me before I gave you that shoe to lick.”

Leo nodded fervently, moaning. A wet spot was forming at his crotch.

“Now we’re gonna go to the bedroom and I’m gonna shove my cheesy uncut cock in that virgin hole of yours, okay bro?”

“Fuck,” Leo gasped, muffled through the shoe. “Fuck yes, Graham.”

“Nah, man,” said Graham’s voice, picking Leo up like he was a doll, “I’d rather you call me Grey.”

As Grey’s thick cock entered Leo, Graham found himself watching as if from outside himself. He could see his own handsome, angular face as he fucked Leo. He could see Grey’s massive, musky feet shift as he gained a better angle to make Leo squeal. He could even watch the dribbles of sweat run over his thick ass as his voice gave short, sharp pants.

“Fuck yeah,” Grey said to himself in a harsh voice, picking up the pace.

“This is my body.”

“This is my fucking musk temple.”

“Made it all by my-fucking-self.”

“Feels fucking good to be alive.”

As Grey buried his thick, musky cock deep in Leo, shaking through his orgasm, Graham found himself back inside his body. Once again, he watched like a passenger as Grey licked his load out of Leo’s asshole, then sent his happy new foot slut on his way with a spare sneaker and instructions to stop using soap and add Grey's contact info to his bank account.

Eventually, Grey lounged on the couch, naked, idly stroking his slimy, still-lubed cock and scrolling through Grindr. “What do you think, Graham?” he said out loud. “Since it's my first night able to leave the apartment, I should go crash some boys’ b-ball game and make some more foot slaves, right?”

Graham couldn’t help but agree. He was just the voice in Grey’s head, after all.

This story is a slightly belated holiday gift for @idesofrevolution! Happy holidays, and here's to a hot and sexy new year ;)

#male transformation #mental change #muscle tf #male tf #race change #musk tf #male possession #gay possession #feet kink tf #all fwkong

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shellshocklove · 5 months ago

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ridin' shotgun | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x female!reader – post breakout & no ellie AU

summary: as the snow covers the land, joel starts to like his new life on the farm, but is it too good to be true?

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni!!! canon-typical violence, age gap (reader is mid to late twenties), swearing, guns, vomit, use of pet names, fluff, angst, fingering, oral (f receiving), some tags are left out to avoid spoilers, no use of y/n

a/n: this is the second part to this. so i'd recommend reading that before this one. i'm very sorry this took me so long! i'm hoping it was worth the wait! <3 also a big thank you to @dustydaddyyy who's always up for helping me when i'm stuck <3 happy reading!

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3 / playlist

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

“Morning, Joel,” Arthur greeted him as Joel entered the kitchen.

Joel felt far from rested. His eyes burned with sleep behind his eyelids. He’d love another hour or two on his pillow, but Arthur’s heavy steps coming down the stairs had woken him.

Damn, these thin walls.

“Mornin’,” Joel said as he sat down at the dining table, looking past the curtain on the portrait of the day. The world was blue with dusk, contrasting the low candlelight inside. Alma stood at the stove, butter crackling in the frying pan as she cracked an egg, then another, two suns in a greasy night sky.

“I think we’ll bring the logging sled today,” Arthur spoke up and gestured out the window, “I think the snow is more than deep enough for the sled.”

“Yeah?” Joel looked out the window again. Assessing the snow, he guessed it was about two feet give or take.

“Yeah, I think it’s gonna be enough– If not we’ll test-drive the sled, make sure it can handle the weight.” Arthur continued, but Joel lost interest as soon as he heard the sound of a door shutting down the hall.

Joel hummed, leaning back in his chair, his eyes flickering to the door of the kitchen waiting to see you walk through. A moment later, you padded into the kitchen in your pajamas, feet clad in soft wool socks. You’d thrown a sweater over your sleep shirt, but Joel remembered how the thin fabric had clung to your skin last night. Remembered the shape of your nipples poking through, the sounds you’d made as you’d whimpered his name. Joel’s cock twitched in his pants at the memory; crashing against the wave of shame and guilt that washed over him when he recalled what he’d done after he’d stepped back into his room.

“Good morning, sweetie,” Arthur greeted you as you sat down, opposite Joel.

“Good morning,” you smiled, resting your chin in the palm of your hand, tiredness like a faraway look across your face.

“Did you sleep well?” Arthur asked.

Your eyes widened at the question, quickly flickering to Joel before they found the table. Your face dug deeper into your hand as you twisted slightly in your chair. A shy smile blossomed across your face.

Huh.

A forgotten tickling feeling of pride filled Joel’s chest as he watched you. The way you avoided his gaze, like your dreams would show through your eyes if you did. But Joel didn’t need to hold your gaze to understand. Something had shifted, both for him and for you. It was different now.

A chuckle escaped Arthur at your motions, “That good, huh?” Arthur teased, “All fairytales and rainbows?”

“Something like that,” you breathed out a chuckle.

Joel cringed. He was closer to a nightmare. Why did he even entertain his thoughts of you? You were the one who was a rainbow, while he’d paint you in a dull grayscale.

Joel let out an inaudible sight, and leaned back in the creaky kitchen chair, as his hands twisted in his lap. He didn’t miss the way his movement caught your eye as he felt the drumroll of your gaze break over him. Joel didn’t dare move, scared he’d scare the warmth of your attention away. But something pulled at his chest, and he couldn’t deny himself to look at you, to drink in your early morning shyness. You didn’t look away this time, instead you smiled. It was a small and polite smile, but it still felt like a kiss to his skin. The small moment between you only lasted a second, but to Joel it felt like an eternity – one he wouldn’t mind spending with you.

You dropped your gaze when Alma placed the breadbasket on the table, and like it had broken a spell, you immediately stood to your feet, “Let me help you, Alma.”

A moment later the table was set and ready, and Arthur was already helping himself to a fried egg. Safe for the sound of cutlery against porcelain plates, a silence fell over the kitchen.

“We uh,” Arthur started, looking over at you, “We were thinking of using the logging sled today,” he informed with a dig into his eggs. “'Could use your help saddling up the horse.”

“Okay,” you nodded, reaching across the table for the butter, “but I need to milk the cows first– you know how they get if I don’t do it first thing–”

“I can do that, sweetie,” Alma interrupted you with a smile, taking a bite of her bread.

“Oh, okay,” you turned your head to Alma as you said it, giving her a smile, but Joel could see the worry behind it. “But if it’s too much I’ll be right there–”

Alma cut you off again, “I can handle it– I did this all by myself before you came along, you know.” She said it with a wink to put you at ease, but Joel saw how your teeth dug into your bottom lip, and he wanted nothing more than to ease it away with a kiss.

No. No kiss.

Shit.

After last night, Joel couldn’t think straight. He wanted you now. He wanted what he knew he couldn’t have– what he shouldn’t have. With his eyes boring down into his plate, he tried to will his wants away. Tried his best to not build memories on things not yet said – to not feel the ache of never having touched you.

The air nipped harshly at Joel’s cheeks. The sun had finally risen over the mountain, shining its light over the crystals in the snow. A thousand diamonds blinked at him as he helped Arthur pull the log sled out of the barn. It was covered in dust and dirt, and the cobwebs stuck to Joel’s mittens like cling film. Clapping his hands, a cloud of dust evaporated from his hands – almost cartoon-like.

Joel picked at the yarn, trying to cover the hole that had become wider and wider every day. He felt bad about it; you’d made them for him out of the goodness of your heart, and now he’d ruined them– or the work had. Sharp branches had hooked themselves through the stiches, and the rough bark had worn the yarn down.

As Arthur checked the sled, and got it ready, Joel felt himself drawn to the open stable door. Leaning against the barn door he watched you quietly. You worked with practiced hands, saddling the old workhorse, Ingydar, as you talked to it in a low voice.

“You’re going to work in the woods today,” you said to the beloved nag, “Work in the woods with Arthur and Joel. Do you remember Joel? He’s a nice man, isn’t he?”

Joel felt his cheeks warm at your words, his eyes falling to the worn wood floor, as he continued to listen to your little conversation.

“Yes, he is! He’s very nice– fed you too many carrots last time he said hello, didn’t he? But you liked that, didn’t you?”

Joel looked up at that, his eyes locking with yours’ as you looked straight at him, a teasing smirk covering your face.

“That ain’t how I remember it,” Joel defended, stepping closer to the open stall door. You tightened the straps on the saddle while your smile grew larger at his words.

“No?” You teased, moving on to checking the straps on the bridle.

Joel stepped closer, his mitten clad hand coming up to pet the old horse. “No,” Joel shook his head, “you kept handin’ me all those carrots ‘s how I remember it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you laughed, stepping closer.

“Sure, you don’t,” Joel teased, a rare smile tugging at his lips, matching your own.

Locking eyes with you again, Joel felt something light bubble under the surface of his ribcage. You really were beautiful like this – eyes sparkling and smile wide. He couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at him the way you were right now – like he hadn’t lost everything, like he didn’t have blood all over his hands, like he was worthy of a smile.

Stepping even closer, you noticed the holes in them. “Joel, your mittens.”

“Sorry…” he started, trailing off when you grabbed his hands, “They get hooked in the branches ‘nd–”

“Don’t apologize,” you cut him off, with a shake of your head, “I can fix them– it’s no problem.”

The sun shone through a small window in the back wall of the stall. Bright white light lit up the back of your head, crowning you in the morning. You stood so close now, the warmth of your finger brushing over his rough skin through the hole, and his hands suddenly felt heavy in yours.

A burden you shouldn’t bear.

“Uh…” Joel cleared his throat as he stepped away, pulling his hands from yours, “Thank you.”

Finishing up saddling the horse you led it out the stall door, the iron shoes click-clacked against the worn wood floor before it fell silent against the snow when you led the horse outside. With a nod in the direction of the house you told him to wait inside for you.

“Would ya let Arthur know he can go right ahead with the sled?” he asked you, his body half-turned towards the barn house.

You let out a breathy laugh, a frosty cloud of smoke clouding your smile before you nodded.

Inside, he waited for you on the couch, watching you wave Arthur off on the horse through the window. Joel’s heart picked up its beat when he heard your hollow steps across the porch. He shifted slightly in his seat when you walked in, almost standing but then decided against it in the same moment, rubbing his hands over his thighs instead.

Stomping off the snow covering your shoes you smiled at him like always, and Joel didn’t know what to do. A feeling starting to bubble under the surface of his skin. Excitement? Nervousness? Dread? Joel couldn’t tell. Maybe he felt all three at once– if that was possible. Excitement at the prospect of being alone with you, but also nervousness at the prospect of being alone with you. They gathered around his heart, filled his chest, but the dread, it climbed up his spine, bit its cold teeth in the back of his neck.

“Just let me grab my things,” you hurried with a gesture towards your room.

Joel cleared his throat and nodded. It felt clumsy and awkward, and he cursed himself for it while he waited for you. He couldn’t be alone with you. Couldn’t entertain the growing feelings. It wasn’t right – to you – Joel needed to stay away, to keep a friendly distance.

Joel sighed and closed his eyes.

Nothin’s happenin’.

Like a broken record, those two words spun in Joel’s head in the few seconds it took before you were back in the living room, dropping down next to him with your basket overflowing with yarn.

It felt like déjà vu.

You worked in a comfortable silence, and Joel didn’t know if he should say anything. He watched how you worked your needle with a practiced hand – you made it look so easy – but Joel knew it wasn’t. A lifetime ago he’d spent way too many nights with a needle in his hand trying to mend a hole over the knee of tiny pink pants, his stubby fingers gripping the needle tightly, guiding it clumsily through the fabric until he was red in the face from frustration.

He needed to thank you, but should he say it now or wait until you’d finished? The longer he watched you, the stronger that bubbling feeling felt, bubbling over, up his throat and over the bite of dread.

“There!” you smiled when you’d fastened off the last stich. You grabbed a hold of his hands before he’d had time to think and pulled the mittens over his knuckles.

“Thank you,” he said, voice scruff but tone still shyer than he’d expected.

You smiled at him again and leaned a little closer to readjust the mittens, tugging at the yarn where you’d mended them, pulling them into the right shape.

“You’re welcome, Joel.” You locked eyes with him and suddenly Joel noticed how close you sat. It made him hold his breath as his heart started hammering against his chest.

His gaze flickered towards your lips for half a second, wishing for something he couldn’t have– shouldn’t have. He caught himself quickly, finding your eyes again but they were fixated on something else, his lips. Who leaned in first, Joel would never know, the only thing he knew was the feel of your breath against his lips before they brushed over yours in a soft kiss.

Warm. Joel felt so warm.

His hands worked by their own volition; mitten clad, and soft against your cheek, pulling you closer to him, but not close enough. Your hand grabbed at his jacket in the crook of his elbow, tethering yourself to him, to the moment, like you’d float away if you didn’t. You hummed against his lips, a desperate sound as you shifted closer.

The sound messed with Joel’s head, he wanted to hear more of it, pull it from you again. His tongue teased at the seam of your lips, a distant thought at the back of his head questioning where his boldness suddenly came from, but he ignored it.

It didn’t matter.

The sound escaped you once more and you opened yourself up to him. Joel’s other hand, moving with desperate urgency, found your hip – pulling you even closer. He licked into your mouth, and he fell deeper into you, deeper into the grip you’d snaked around his heart.

A loud slam of the kitchen door pulled Joel away, and the reality of what he’d done trickled coldly down his spine. Out in the kitchen Alma rummaged around while you looked at him with bright eyes, pupils slightly dilated with a hazy smile across your lips.

Joel felt awful.

He shouldn’t have done that.

He’d taken advantage of you. He’s too old for you – none of this was right.

You noticed the change in him, you must’ve, because your eyebrows pulled together in the smallest of frowns as you regarded him.

“Joel,” you started, your voice low and soft, but he just shook his head.

“I’m sorry!” Joel quickly stood to his feet, wiping his hands on his jeans as though that would somehow erase what he’d done. “We– I shouldn’t have done that– I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” you tried to grab at his hand, but Joel only shook his head again.

“I’m sorry.”

Joel was out the door before he could regret it, lord knows he couldn’t take anymore regret. His life had been full of them, full of ‘I shouldn’t haves’. He dug his mitten-clad hands in the pockets of his jacket, his head hanging low as he headed down the road towards the forest.

A heavy blanket of clouds had shaded the morning sun, the world darkened in the beginnings of real winter. As a snowflake kissed his cheek, his thoughts wandered to the butterfly he’d seen all those weeks ago. How it had rested over his knee– made him think of Sarah.

You’re on the right path.

Joel had never felt this lost.

The kiss.

It took up most of Joel’s mind. When he worked himself hard with an axe in his hand, when he was counting sheep, but most of all, each time he saw you. Then his thoughts had a mind of its own, reminding him of how your lips had felt against his own, the feel of your body under his touch, and the sounds you’d made just for him. The kiss had been the first kiss who’d made him want another. The first kiss where he’d pulled away and not been satisfied. He needed to kiss you again, to feed this new hunger for you.

But it wasn’t right. An old man like him with someone like you. It wasn’t a good idea– would never be a good idea.

So, Joel tried his best to avoid you, but avoiding you was impossible – you lived in the same house, shared a bedroom wall. He saw you every day whether he liked it or not – and he did.

He liked you, and it scared the shit out of him.

He felt like he lived in a cruel state of limbo. He didn’t know what you were thinking. If you were mad (you had every right), if you were disappointed (he hoped you weren’t), or happy (maybe the most devastating thought of all).

The fire crackled loudly, sparks kicking, the sound making you look up from your book. Joel’s eyes found his own book, rereading the same paragraph he’d been trying to read for the last thirty minutes– ever since Arthur and Alma had retired to bed. This was the first time he’d been alone with you since the kiss, and he felt it all over his body. The aftermath of the kiss sticking to his body like the Austin heat had done in the peak of summer – he couldn’t shake it off, couldn’t ignore it.

“When was the last time you cut your hair?” you suddenly spoke across the silence.

Your question was unexpected, and it made him pull his brows together in a frown. “You sayin’ I look bad?” Joel asked, dogearing the page he was on before closing his book.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head, “No-no, I mean it’s just a little long.”

Joel looked at you for a second before he ran a hand through his hair. Well, it wasn’t like you weren’t right. Lately his hair had started to get in his eyes, even when he pushed it back. Most days when he was working outside, he could tame it under the knitted beanie you’d made him, but it had started to have a life of its own.

“Boston. I think, Tes–” he cut himself off before he said her name, clearing his throat awkwardly to cover his slip up. He’d forgotten, forgotten for a second that she was dead. Forgotten she’d died for him and his stupid quest to find his brother. Died for nothing.

“I can trim it for you… if you want?” you asked with a bite of your lip.

He couldn’t say no to you.

“Uh… yeah,” he nodded, “Okay.”

As you led him up the stairs to the bathroom, Joel tried not to think too hard about what it would mean – you cutting his hair. He tried not to think about how the last person who’d done something like that for him was Tess, and what it meant that she was gone– that it now would be you.

Your fingers running through his wet hair felt good– what didn’t feel good was the way his back almost gave out from leaning his head in the bathroom sink. The basin was too small, and the tap hung too low for him to comfortably turn his head, instead the water spilled down his face.

Why the hell was he drowning himself for you?

“Done soon?” he grunted, his hands gripping the sides of the sink while he felt your fingers scrub at his roots.

Yes, Joel was uncomfortable, but the way you stood so close – practically leaning on him – it felt nice. So nice that Joel thought that if his eyes weren’t already shut, they’d flutter shut at your touch.

Soap suds ran down the sides of his face as you giggled, “Just a little longer.”

You maneuvered his head back under the tap, your right hand running through his hair under the water while the left covered his eyes in a useless attempt. Then you grabbed the towel resting next to him on the porcelain, the world suddenly silenced through fabric as you dried his now clean hair.

“You can stand now,” you told him with a small tap to his back as you stepped away. You’d laid the towel around his shoulders, ready to catch any excess water.

Joel groaned, “I don’t think I can.”

You giggled again and then your hands wrapped around him, helping him up. Joel groaned again, but this time for show. He liked the way you touched him, gentle – always gentle. He plopped down in the chair you’d brought in from the spare bedroom, while you got your comb and scissors ready. The wooden chair creaked as he shifted his legs, widening them while he rested his hands in his lap.

He’d never seen this chair before, but then again Joel hadn’t explored the house much – it didn’t feel right. He was a guest after all, only staying for a few months– or was he? His eyes found you in the mirror, and then that thought suddenly felt awfully wrong.

“Ready?” you turned around to him, a pair of kitchen scissors in one hand, and an old shaver plugged into the wall in the other.

You didn’t say much as you worked. It was uncharacteristic for a hairdresser, at least from what he could remember. Back before the outbreak he’d rarely gotten his hair cut by someone other than himself. With his clipper guard set to four he’d tidy up the sides when it was needed and called it a day.

Your quietness was also uncharacteristic to you. You never talked his ear off, but you were never this quiet – at least you weren’t before the–

Stop.

Joel tried not to think about that.

He’d gone and fucked everything up now. Instead, he stole a glance at you in the mirror, watched the way your lips pursed in concentration to the metal sound of scissors snipping, and the low buzz of the shaver.

He needed to apologize to you.

“I…” he started, watching your head snap curiously to watch him in the mirror.

No turning back now– just say it.

“I’m sorry ‘bout the other day– It wasn’t right to kiss you like that.”

Your curiosity pulled into confusion across your face, and your eyebrows tugged together in a frown.

“You don’t have to be sorry, Joel,” you told him, your voice gentle, “I didn’t exactly–... well I definitely wasn’t stopping you.” You said it with an awkward laugh. Your kind, always kind, eyes that’d watched him in the mirror, now glued to the back of his head as you gently combed his hair.

Joel felt something bloom in his chest at your words, and despite himself, he felt his cheeks warm slightly as thoughts invaded his mind.

Maybe he should tell you why he did it.

Shit, did Joel even know why he did it?

“I thought you–” Joel felt the words stall in his throat for a second, before he cleared it decisively.

No going back now, he thought to himself, just rip off the band aid you idiot.

Another part of Joel screamed at him to stop the words before they even left his lips, and his doubts gnawed at his insides with more intensity than ever.

“The other night, when you were asleep,” he paused to swallow, a lump growing in his throat, “I was getting to bed and I heard–... well, y’were sort of having a dream, sweetheart.”

With nervous eyes, Joel found your face in the mirror, and watched the way the smiling expression dropped off your face, quickly replaced by a wide-eyed look of pure mortification.

“I–” you stuttered out, and Joel rushed to correct himself.

“It’s nothin’ to be embarrassed about, I shouldn’t a been watchin’ you, I just–... thought maybe y’liked me, or something.”

His words hung heavy in the air between you, and Joel’s heart picked up its beat as he watched how all your movements suddenly went quiet, along with the shaver, seemingly processing all this new information.

Your eyes found the back of his head again, and when he felt the comb run through his hair again, Joel suddenly felt very guilty for even bringing it up.

Stupid. Why on earth would he do that? Was he trying to send you into an early grave?

“I’m sorry you walked in on that,” you finally managed, your eyes fixated on your working hands as you refused to meet Joel’s eye – looking infinitely embarrassed.

You’re sorry? He didn’t want to hear those words leave your mouth ever again – the only person in this bathroom who was sorry, was him.

In the mirror you looked so small, and it was his own doing. Your teeth dug harshly into your bottom lip as your combed, and combed, and combed his hair in a shaky hand. Joel felt his heart break.

He’d dug himself too deep now, Joel thought, he had to tell you, to reassure you it was okay.

After a beat of silence, Joel spoke again.

“I’m not.”

Your eyes widened at his words before they snapped to the mirror, staring at him as the shears trembled slightly in your hand. Still, you didn’t say anything.

Joel didn’t have the faintest idea where he was going with this, and with the way you looked at him now, his doubts seemed to overtake him as he got the sudden urge to swallow his words right back up.

“Look, forget I even said anything angel, I didn’t mean anythin’ by it–”

The word slipped from his lips like the most natural thing in the world. Something flashed in your eyes through the mirror, he could’ve sworn it, and Joel seemed to realize a beat too late what he’d called you. Feeling his cheeks heat up, his embarrassment forced his gaze to fall anywhere but at you, quicklyfinding his hands knotted in his lap.

“Joel,” you said softly, and despite himself, Joel felt the earlier warmth expanding like a balloon in his chest, “It’s okay.”

He perked up at your words, his eyes snapping from his hands to you as you moved, coming to stand in front of him. Your hands deftly moved the comb through his curls as he looked up at you through the strands. You seemed focused on cutting the ends, before you let out a breath.

“It would’ve been okay if you had been watching, you know,” you said, your voice simple and even.

Joel felt his entire body tense at your words as his eyes bored into your face. He watched the way your face grimaced slightly; your eyes focused on snipping the strands right.

“I just mean I–” There was a pause as you gave him a half-embarrassed smile, your lips pursed together as you seemed to search for your next words.

You were standing so close, so close he could smell the sweetness off you. You made him dizzy. Dizzy with warmth. Dizzy with proximity. Dizzy with something heavy in the depths of his chest he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Joel didn’t know why he did it, didn’t know why the way his hands moved felt like second nature, but when the tips of his fingers grazed the back of your knee in an attempt to reassure you, it felt like something was calling to him.

“It’s okay,” he told you, “You can tell me, angel.”

Finally, your eyes met Joel’s. Those kind sparkling eyes bored into his own as you, in an attempt to gather some courage, swallowed hard.

“I–I do like you,” you said.

The finality of your words lodged something loose in Joel, and something he hadn’t felt in a long time flicker to life in his chest.

“That so?” he asked, his voice a little lower.

Somehow, you were stood even closer, only slightly taller than Joel as he angled his head up towards you. Your chest started to rise and fall in a quicker rhythm at his question. Looking at him, your lips twitched in a nervous smile as you turned slightly away from his, placing the comb and scissors on the sink gently.

You nodded.

Still turned away from him, he watched how you gathered yourself, your hands resting on the porcelain as your head hung low between your shoulder blades.

“When you…” you trailed off, moving the comb and scissors in a perfect parallel line next to each other. “When you,” you repeated, “kissed me… I thought maybe… you liked me back.”

It was now or never.

Joel knew it.

Standing from his chair, Joel’s hand found your shoulder, turning you to face him. You didn’t look at him right away, your head tipped in a bow as you fiddled with your fingers.

“Hey,” his fingers brushed lightly under your chin, tilting your head up. Your eyes were wide, flickering like sunlight over wavy water as you studied his face. His eyes fell to your lips – he couldn’t help it, and the memories of how they’d felt against him resurfaced in his mind. If he just leaned a little closer, he’d feel them again.

“Joel… if you don’t want me– if you don’t like me, you can just tell me– I’m a big girl.” Your voice sounded almost breathless, like you’d run up a flight of stairs or walked miles in knee deep snow.

Joel shook his head before you’d even finished your sentence. Don’t want you? Don’t like you? It was absurd.

“It ain’t that.”

“Then what is it?” The way the words left your lips, broken, beaten, it had Joel’s heart tear apart in his chest.

“It ain’t right, angel. I’m too old f’you– I can’t take advantage of you like that.”

A frown pulled at your face then, “Take advantage?” you questioned with a shake of your head. “I’m a grown woman, Joel. Would it be taking advantage if it was what I wanted? If what I wanted was… you?”

Joel had never thought about it like that before. The thought of you wanting him back had seemed like a fantasy – something that would never even be a possibility.

Your fingers moved a strand of hair out of his face, brushing it away, and Joel held his breath. Hesitating for just a second, you cupped his cheek gently and leaned closer. The softness of your lips over his own had Joel reeling – didn’t matter how quick or chaste the kiss had been – it only left him wanting more.

“I look stupid.”

“You don’t look stupid, Joel,” you laughed, full of joy.

You adjusted the bandana holder and fixed the crooked kerchief around his neck slightly. The red fabric picked up the warmth in his lined leather jacket, and the metal holder caught the shine of the sun.

Joel couldn’t believe he’d said yes.

This morning when he’d gotten up with the sun, Alma had stuck her head out of her and Arthur’s bedroom right as he was on his way out the bathroom. Arthur wasn’t feeling well, and Joel had prepared himself to work in the woods alone. It wasn’t the first time Arthur had gotten sick, and with the way he was looking lately, Joel figured it wouldn’t be the last.

He'd been washing his dishes from his breakfast when you’d padded into the kitchen. With a look over his shoulder, he’d caught the way you’d smiled at him before you padded over to him.

“Good morning,” you’d said and wrapped your arms around him from behind.

“Mornin’, angel,” he’d hummed back. He’d dried his plate and placed it on the counter before he’d turned around, still in your embrace.

Joel wasn’t used to it yet, your affection, he still had a hard time comprehending it was meant for him. That it wasn’t some joke you’d so cruelly played on him. A joke to see how long you could feed him this adoration until he’d get hooked on it, hooked on you, before pulling away.

Joel didn’t dare hold you too tightly. Everyone he’s ever held in his arms had been pulled away by death’s hands. Every day since you’d told him you liked him, wanted him, Joel had been afraid to lose you.

Maybe that’s why he’d said yes? You’d convinced him it’ll be safer for you if you knew how to shoot.

Joel didn’t know.

The only thing he knew was that he’d caved under your wide and blinking eyes. You’d looked too cute to say no, and he disliked seeing a frown upon your lips, unless he could kiss it away.

Which he did – but only when you were alone.

You’d both agreed to keep this thing, the fondness, the love, growing between you a secret. It was easier that way, at least until you both knew what it all meant. Right now, it was a thing, a fondness, but not yet a love, although Joel wasn’t far off if he were being honest with himself, especially when you looked at him with those moony eyes.

With a pat to his chest, you pushed off him with a smile. In a closet upstairs you’d found you both a cowboy hat and some bandanas you’d insisted on him wearing. The whole thing was silly, but the way you’d lit up with happiness when you’d placed the cowboy hat on his head, it didn’t matter to Joel.

“C'mon cowboy,” you laughed, and grabbed his hand.

He let you drag him with you before he caught up with you. He pulled at your arm so you crashed into his side, and wrapped his arm around your shoulder. It made you giggle, and the sound bubbled around Joel’s heart.

Ingydar stood waiting dutifully in his stall, where you’d gotten him ready. The saddle bags were packed with your lunches and a box of ammunition, and at the back of the saddle you’d rolled two sheep skins and tied them with leather ties. Everything was ready for your day out together.

Or your date, Joel thought as he trailed after you, closing the stable door behind him as you led the horse outside.

Joel insisted you get on the horse first with his help. He wanted to make sure you were comfortable and sat as safely as possible before he slid his foot into the stirrups. You wiggled around to mess with him, and Joel grabbed your knee to steady you. It made you giggle again, and he earned himself a ‘Relax, honey’. Then you leaned back and made space for him to get in front of you.

Joel liked the sound of ‘honey’.

“Y’alright back there?” Joel said over his shoulder after he’d gotten on the horse. Placing the shotgun over his lap, Joel made sure the safety was on before his hands came down to take yours where they rested over your thighs, and gently guided them to slot around his waist.

“Y’actually gotta hang on sweetheart, or you’ll slide right off the minute he starts trotting,” Joel said, fighting back a smile when he felt your arms tighten around him.

“I know how to ride a horse,” you retorted, and his chest shook with a slight chuckle.

“Not saying you don’t, angel,” he replied easily, and kicked Ingydar lightly in the sides.

The old horse started walking, and Joel pulled on the reins, steering it down the road and then south towards the woods.

“’Just makin’ sure you ain’t gonna fall off ‘s all,” he said.

You hummed in return, leaning your body against his back. “It’ll have to be a really bumpy ride for me to fall off, Joel,” you spoke, the innuendo not lost on Joel.

He decided to pull at the thread a little, “And I s’pose you’ve had a lot of these bumpy rides, have you, angel?”

Your hands around his waist tightened slightly as he felt you lean over his shoulder, your hat dumping into his. A smile tugged at his lips, and in his side vision he could see you narrow your eyes playfully at him.

“What are you insinuating, Joel Miller?” you asked him, your tone only half-sharp.

A chuckle rumbled in Joel’s chest, before he bit back a smirk. “I’m not insinuatin’ nothin’,” he replied, keeping his tone as normal as he could.

He felt your eyes study him for a moment before he heard you let out a dissatisfied hum. “You definitely are.”

“Well, we got an entire horse ride to god knows where to debate it,” he shot back, which made you smile.

You leaned back again, and a second later he felt you rest your forehead against his back. Joel figured you must’ve flicked your hat off; letting it rest against your back tied by the string around your neck.

“An entire horse ride to god knows where?” you repeated half-mockingly, speaking into his back but Joel could hear your smile in your voice, “You really know how to make a girl wait for it.”

“You have no idea, angel,” Joel replied, an otherwise joking tone overshadowed by something else, something more honest.

Behind him, Joel felt you shift, and a small spark of pride filled his chest. He had an effect on you, the same way you had an effect on him. Quickly, you changed the subject, and that spark of pride grew larger in Joel’s chest.

“Did you have a plan, by the way?” you asked him, your voice light and innocent, “Or are we just riding this horse off into the sunset?”

“It’s the middle of the day,” Joel pointed out, “And you’re the one who put me in a bandana, so don’t even bother tellin’ me you ain’t the one with the plan.”

You let out a giggle at this and pressed your face into his back once more. “Just keep going straight for now, you bore, I’ll tell you when.”

Joel chuckled at you, and did as you said, guiding the horse south at the edge of the forest where the snow wasn’t as deep. He felt you tighten your hands slightly around his waist, before you fell into a comfortable silence.

The horse held a steady pace, rocking you in a soothing rhythm in the saddle. The day was bright and sunny, almost blinding against the snow. Joel had never gone down this way before, never seen the stone face of the mountain up close, the way it cried glittery winter tears when the sun shone.

“There’s a river down here somewhere,” you suddenly spoke, breaking the silence that had built between you. “There’s a nice little spot down there where we can camp.”

Joel pulled at the reins, following in the direction you’d pointed. “You’ve been down this way before?” he asked.

“Maybe once or twice a year,” you started, “There’s this town, Jackson, maybe a week’s ride south. I’m not exactly supposed to talk about it– they run a pretty tight ship, coming off a little more threatening than they are, but they’re sort of like a commune. Arthur has this deal with one of the ladies, Maria, where we help each other out by trading.”

A frown pulled at Joel’s face, “I thought y’all were all alone out here?”

“Well, we are, but not really. It’s because of them we still have running water and electricity– we’re connected to the same system they use. And then usually in the fall or in the spring Arthur will go trade with them for things we need like soap, or nails and stuff we can’t make on our own at the farm.”

Joel hummed, and the puzzle pieces of information you’d given him, started to fit into the bigger picture he’d painted of your life at the farm. He could understand why Alma and Arthur still resided at the farm. It was their home, the place where they’d lived their whole life, but for you, for you it was different.

“So… you know ‘em? You’ve gone with Arthur to meet this Maria?” he asked.

“A little, I guess. She’s uh…” you trailed off, resting your cheek against Joel’s back instead.

The river finally came into view, and Joel let you have the silence. He guided Ingydar down towards the riverbank. A wound cut the ice in two where the river poured backwards eternally. The water clucked under the ice as you rode along the edge; was it wishful thinking to think it sounded like the coming of spring?

“She?” Joel prodded gently.

Joel heard you sight before you sat up, no longer leaning your weight on him. “She invited me to come live with them… in Jackson.”

Joel frowned, “’nd you told her no?”

“Well… yes– I just, I can’t leave them alone.”

“Sweetheart–” Joel started, but you cut him off.

“Let’s stop here!”

You didn’t say anything as Joel watched you loosen the saddle bags and sheep skins, while he petted the old horse. He found himself wondering how you’d ended up on the farm, and if you could’ve been happier somewhere else– like Jackson.

He tied Ingydar to a tree, before he waded back to where you were trampling the snow flat. He helped you form a bench out of the snow, cutting through the layers until you found a hard enough crust to hold both your weights. The sheepskin warmed under him, as he sat down with a groan. It made you turn around from where you sat on your haunches in front of the fire you were building, a teasing smile pulling at the corner of your mouth.

“Tired already, old man?” you teased as you stood to your feet and walked closer.

Spreading his legs, Joel made room for you to stand between them, as he tipped his head back to study you above him. Your smile was dangerous, wild and wonderful.

“Old man, huh?” He raised an eyebrow at you, not able to resist the urge to wrap his hand around the back of your knee.

Your teeth caught on your bottom lip at his touch, and a pride swelled inside Joel. Pride at pulling a reaction from you. Before you could answer him, a boldness took a hold of him, and he wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you down into his lap.

You yelped out a giggle and your hands came down to brace yourself against his shoulder. Joel felt a feeling overcome him; one he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Happiness.

It tickled at his heart, teared at something inside, and it scared him.

“You okay?” you asked, your voice coated in concern, and Joel felt his cheeks heat up. He let out a dry chuckle, embarrassed by how easily you could read him.

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, “I just…” he trailed off, studying your face and watching how your eyebrows pulled together in the smallest of frowns.

He shook his head again, before he leaned forward, not thinking it through as he brushed his lips over yours in a kiss. You reciprocated the kiss immediately, although maybe a little caught off guard. Joel’s arm around your waist tightened, as his other hand brushed up your side. He needed to hold you close for just a second, just to know this was real, that this feeling was real, and that you were real.

You broke away first, breathless with a giggle before you dove down again for another peck. Joel let you kiss him; let you cup his cheek and bring him closer. You shifted in his lap, your core rubbing slightly over his crotch. It could’ve been an accident, but the small gasp you let out told him it wasn’t. His arm around your waist tightened, and he had to pull away.

Wide eyes looked back at him, and Joel couldn’t help but stare at your lips. He felt like a teenager, a teenager sneaking out the house to meet a girl. To finally be with you without the secrecy – to touch you and kiss you openly.

“You’re somethin’ else, aren’t you?” he whispered.

A smile teased at your lips before you leaned in closer, your breath brushing over his ear, “You have no idea.”

Blood coursed south, and Joel felt his cock come alive behind the confinements of his jeans. It was cold enough for a man to freeze his balls off, but desire’s warmth filled him anyway.

He pulled his head away, finding your eyes blown full of lust. A smile teased at the corner of his mouth as he spoke, “Let’me teach ya to shoot before you get too excited.”

“Before I get too excited?” you laughed, and sat up properly in his lap again, “I think that might be you, old man.”

Teaching you to shoot was less of a success than Joel had intended. He’d found a couple of old glass bottles in the barn to use as target practice, but your aim was terrible, missing each shot. To your credit, it wasn’t your fault. He’d taught you how to load the gun, how to stand safely, and with his hand snaking around your body, how to hold it properly.

He could swear his intentions were good at first, he actually wanted to teach you, to make sure you knew how to shoot, and safely, but when he saw how your body shivered from his voice in your ear – he decided to play with you a little.

Maybe he whispered a couple of innuendos in your ear while he dropped his voice an octave just to see your reaction. Or maybe he pressed himself a little closer to your body, showing you how it was done like in those cliché romcoms he’d been forced to watch with Sarah.

It didn’t take long before the empty bottles, or the shot gun was forgotten, as you pressed your lips against his in a desperate kiss, your cold nose rubbing against his own.

But Joel didn’t have it in him to complain.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound at the door jolted Joel from his sleep. He’d almost been dragged under, laying in that limbo state between awake and asleep– not yet in dreamland, but not still among the living.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Joel sat up, letting the duvet fall into his lap and exposing his chest as the streak of yellow light coming through the ajar door cut his bedroom in two. Joel had to squint to see you properly in the doorway as he shed the last grip of sleep.

“Angel?” he questioned, as a tight grip of fear ran through him. He sat up properly now, ready to jump out of bed, his hands already searching for his shotgun resting at the foot of the bed.

With his eyes now fully adjusted to the dark, he watched how you quietly stepped inside his bedroom, closing the door as gently as you could – and the panic seemed to seize just a little. You padded to the edge of his bed, still so quiet, with your hands clasped nervously over where the hem of your sleep shirt met the bare of your thighs.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you whispered.

Joel shifted over slightly and lifted the duvet for you to slip under. An open invitation– one you were quick to accept.

“D’you have a nightmare?” Joel whispered, the wolf hour keeping his voice down.

You shifted closer to him, your head rested on his pillow, and Joel couldn’t help himself from touching your waist gently – his fingers dancing over the soft cotton of your shirt.

“No,” you whispered back, “just couldn’t sleep.”

Joel hummed and shifted over onto his back, extending his arm for you to shift closer. It felt natural now – touching you. You felt like his, and he felt like yours. He didn’t know where it was going, but he was starting to enjoy the road to you. To get to know you more, what made you laugh, your quirks, and the way your body felt under his hands.

The weight of your head on his chest, Joel welcomed; his other hand quick to intertwine with the one you’d slung over his middle. He just wanted you close now, every chance he got.

“’Just try ‘nd get some sleep, my angel.” Joel pressed a kiss to the top of your head before he pulled back and closed his eyes. With you in his arms now, he knew he’d have no trouble falling back asleep.

“I–” you whispered.

Joel hummed; his eyes still closed.

“I kept thinking about you.”

Curiously Joel opened his eyes to find yours. You had tilted your head to look at him, you mouth slightly parted as you studied him with moony eyes. The way you looked at him stirred something inside him, a warmth pooling in the depth of his core.

“Yeah?” he questioned with a slight cock of his eyebrow, “’bout what?”

Then you got shy all of a sudden, hiding your head in his chest. “Thought about how you touched me,” you whispered.

“Touched ya how?” he prodded, gliding his hand up your arm slowly.

He knew it was wrong to play with you like this. Everything was still new, each touch unexplored and seeking. He couldn’t fuck you, even if he wanted to, and he did, badly, but Joel couldn’t risk it. Not in this world, not at this farm, it wasn’t fair to you.

Over him you held your breath as he teased your skin, eyes fluttering shut as his hand moved down the side of your body, and under the duvet.

“Like… like how you touched me in my dream,” you exhaled in a breathless voice.

Now Joel sucked in a breath, holding it in his lungs as he tried to calm himself down. He had an idea on how he’d touched you in your dream, but he couldn’t hold himself back from asking anyway.

“’nd where did I touch ya in your dream, angel.”

You squirmed against his body when his hand reached your bare thigh under the duvet, and soon your fingers locked around his wrist to guide it up over the soft skin of the inside of your thigh.

“Here,” you whispered.

A small gasp escaped you when he brushed his thumb gently over your clothed clit. Joel felt the wet warmth of you against the pad of his finger, making his cock twitch to life in his pajama pants.

“Here?” Joel whispered back, as his thumb started rubbing small circles over your clit.

“Y-yes.”

The noise you made, the noise he pulled from you from his small touch, sounded like the sweetest melody in Joel’s ear, and he wanted to hear it again. He ran his fingers through your cloth covered folds, and felt the wetness already seeped through.

Fuck.

“My angel… You’re so wet already,” he tutted, “Were you touchin’ yourself thinkin’ ‘bout me in that bed of yours?” he hummed in your ear.

A shiver ran through your body when his fingers found your clit again. Slowly, he started circling his fingers again, and the quiet moan that escaped you filled his chest with desire.

“Yes,” you breathed out, almost a whimper.

His teeth caught on his bottom lip, biting down to stave off the groan he wanted to let out at your words. He needed more of you, to feel the softness of you, to pull more of those breathy whimpers from your breath.

“Tell me, angel.”

In a bold move, Joel dipped his fingers into your panties, gliding two thick fingers through the seam of your folds, dipping into your arousal soiling your panties. His touch made you suck in a quick breath, as your eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. A proud grin spread across Joel’s face. It had been a while since he’d been with a woman, even longer since he’d been with a woman he felt something for.

He’d felt something for Tess, but that had been so complicated – it didn’t work right, they didn’t work right together as more than friends, like the puzzle pieces didn’t quite fit together. But the sex had been good, something to make them both forget for a little while.

Everything with you worked almost too easily, and Joel wanted to make you feel good, you deserved it, he thought.

“I-I,” you said breathlessly, as he worked his fingers slowly up and down from your hole to your clit, “I thought about your f-fingers.”

“Yeah, baby? Where?” He whispered in your ear before placing a kiss to the column of your neck. Joel was playing with you now, seeing how desperate he could get you before he tasted you.

“I-inside… I thought about your fingers inside me.”

Joel smiled into your neck. This felt as good a time as any to slip a finger inside you, so he did, slowly. You keened under his touch, and the sound of the small gasp you let out made Joel’s cock even harder.

“Like this baby?” he teased, pumping his finger slowly in and out of your wet warmth. He felt your hand wrap around his wrist, holding his arm, almost guiding him in his movements. He curled his finger inside you, trying to find that spongy spot inside that made you see stars.

“Y-yes, Joel–ah!”

There it was.

He liked the sound of his name falling from your lips like this, and he intended to hear it again. He couldn’t help but think about the way your cunt would squeeze around his cock, how tight you’d feel around him, as he continued to massage the spot with the pad of his finger.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” he cooed, and placed a kiss to your cheek.

“Uh-uh,” you nodded, your eyebrows pulling together in a frown of pleasure, “Uh-uh.”

He felt your walls flutter around him, and Joel knew he had you just where he wanted you. Quickly, he pulled out his finger before slipping in a second. Your wetness dripped down his hand, coating him in your arousal with every pump of his fingers inside you.

Your breathing picked up, and small moans escaped you in time with the thrusting of his fingers. Joel had to contain himself from rubbing his bulge against your thigh, chasing any kind of relief.

This wasn’t about him, he told himself, he only wanted to make you feel good.

He knew you were close now, with just a flick of his thumb over your clit he’d have you coming on his hand – but Joel didn’t want it to be over yet. He needed to taste you, he’d thought about it as he’d jerked himself of, fantasized about how you’d taste on his tongue.

Suddenly, Joel pulled his finger out of your cunt. A strangled noise of, what Joel could only describe as disappointment, escaped your lips. It made Joel chuckle.

“Joel,” you whined, and squeezed your fingers around his wrist.

He didn’t answer, instead he sat up, a teasing smile coating his face as he shifted down the bed and pulled the duvet with him.

“Calm down, angel, be good f’me, okay?”

His hand wrapped around your calf to spread you apart for him, and he slotted between your legs. He placed a gentle kiss to your knee and let his eyes find yours where they looked back at him wide with anticipation.

“Are you gonna be good f’me?” he asked as he gave you another soft kiss, but this time to the inside of your thigh.

A breath escaped you in staccato, and you nodded, “Y-yes, Joel.”

“Good girl,” he rumbled, placing fluttering kisses up your thigh until he reached your core.

Joel didn’t want to waste any more time.

He stripped you out of your panties, and threw them to the side to get lost in the bedding. Finally, he got a good look at you, and fuck you were beautiful. Your cunt glistened with your wetness in the low white light of the moon coming through the window. Your hole pulsed when his thumb found your clit, where he pulling the hood back slightly as he teased you.

“Please,” you pleaded, your hand wrapping around his shoulder; searching for something to hold on to.

“It’s okay, angel,” he comforted you, as his finger spread your lips apart, and put you on display for him before he pinched them together. Under him you let out the smallest of whimpers as he played with you.

“I’m gonna put my mouth on you now, baby,” he told you, his finger back to circling your clit. “Gonna taste you pussy.”

His eyes flicked from your cunt to your face, searching for any indication that this wasn’t what you wanted. But Joel didn’t find any, your mouth had dropped open in the smallest of o’s, and your eyes were glazed over in lust.

“Please, Joel,” you begged, spreading your legs wider for him.

A grin spread across Joel’s face, and at last he finally closed the distance between his lips and your cunt, placing a kiss to your clit to start.

A hand found his head, as your fingers dug into his hair, which only made him smile wider. He dipped lower, flattening his tongue to taste you properly. You tasted so good, a sweet-salty taste he instantly craved more of. He licked a stripe from your clit to your hole, gathering up the arousal leaking from you, and hummed in contentment.

The fingers in his hair tightened their grip as he teased at your hole, pushing his tongue inside you a couple of times and earning himself the sweetest moans. Joel made sure to remember every twist of pleasure, and whiny moan.

He continued with a lick up the seam of your folds, which made your hips buck, chasing the swipes and zigzags of his tongue.

“That feel good, angel?” he prodded before latching onto your clit.

“Y-yes!” you gasped as he sucked and flicked his tongue.

The noises he pulled from you went straight to his hard cock. He could feel the precum leak from the tip and staining the fabric of his pajama pants. Shamelessly, he started bucking his hips against the bed.

He had to calm down, this wasn’t about him.

With a sudden move he pulled away, making a breathy whine escape you at the loss of his mouth. Joel sat up on his knees, before his hands found the back of your knees.

“Hold your legs f’me, angel,” he commanded, and pushed your legs up towards your chest. You did as he told you, and hooked your arms under your knees to put your cunt on full display for him.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, “so pretty f’me… so messy– listen.”

He ran a finger down your cunt to prove his point, a slick wet sound filling the air.

“Please, Joel,” you begged again, your voice broken with a breathless whine.

“Please what, angel?” he mocked, a spark of pride filling his chest as he watched you bite down on your lip.

“Please… make me come,” you whispered, and Joel thought he’d never heard anything sound so hot in his life.

He dove down again, consumed your cunt. His tongue lapped at your core, his finger teased your hole, pushing the pad just inside your opening; in and out, in and out. His lips found your clit again, where he flattened his tongue before drawing precise circles. Around his finger your cunt pulsed – you were close.

Joel never slowed down his tempo, determined now to make you come. He continued to lick and suck, thrusting his fingers inside you fully now as he pushed up against the spot he’d found earlier. Your breath picked up the pace, small breathy moans and whines escaping you in an increasing tempo.

“R-right there,” you heaved, your face scrunched together in pleasure. “D-don’t stop– I’m gonna c-come.”

Joel hummed against you, continuing his rhythm with his fingers and his tongue, coaxing you closer and closer to your orgasm. You started to mumble something, but Joel couldn’t hear it clearly between your heaving breaths.

He was determined now.

Curling his fingers again, your eyes snapped open, “Joel!”

Your cunt spasms around his fingers, and then you came around his fingers. Your eyes screwed shut as you moaned, as your body squirmed under him.

You looked so beautiful– you sounded so beautiful.

He continued to massage his fingers inside you, thrusting them slowly as you rode out your high. Making sure to drink in every sound, every squirm and twist of your pleasure as he watched you calm down.

When your breath had started to come back to normal, Joel pulled his fingers from your cunt. His fingers were coated in you, coated in your slick arousal and your cum. With a cheeky smile he brought his fingers to his mouth as he locked eyes with you and sucked them clean. The wide-eyed look on your face was the sweetest thing he’d seen.

“Joel,” you begged, your hand pulling him down over you.

He held himself up with a hand digging into your pillow, and he couldn’t help but smile as he looked down at you. He never wanted to forget the look on your face in this moment, never wanted to forget what you looked like glowing in a post-orgasm bliss.

Your hands cupped his cheek and pulled him down to your lips. The kiss was desperate, wet and messy, and it made Joel’s heart soar inside his chest. His cock was so hard. He could slip it inside you just for a moment, only the tip.

“Please,” you said breathlessly between kisses, “you can fuck me, Joel.”

No, not yet.

With a shake of his head, he came to his senses, “No, angel, this was just f’you.”

Your eyes widened with confusion; a slight frown pulled at your eyebrows as he pulled away. Joel bought himself some time by pulling you closer and wrapping an arm around you, careful not to press his hard cock into your ass.

“There ain’t exactly any condoms out here,” he told you, “It’s just too risky.”

It was a sorry excuse, Joel knew it, and he could tell you did too. His boner rubbing into your ass told you as much. Joel wanted to, he wanted to fuck you, but he just couldn’t, not yet anyway. Not until he knew that it was what you wanted, that he was what you wanted.

A moment went by before he heard you whisper, “You can pull out?”

Joel couldn’t hold back the smile threatening to spill across his face, “I’ve heard that one before, didn’t exactly go to plan.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, turning around in his arms to find his face.

Shit.

“Nothin’,” he shook his head. He didn’t want to think about that right now, didn’t want to feel that grief that’s never gone away, didn’t want it to tear at the happiness he felt in this moment. “It’s just somethin’ from before.”

Your interest seemed to pique at that. You turned around fully in his arms and slung your arm around his broad chest. Your eyes glittered with curiosity, “How was it? Your life before?”

Memories flashed before Joel’s eyes; days of hard work under the Austin sun, drunk laughter at the bar with his brother, pink birthday parties, and singing along to girl groups in the truck.

He held his breath for a moment before he let out a quiet sigh, “Normal, I guess.”

When he looked down at you where you rested your head on his shoulder, it seemed his brief answer had disappointed you, so he decided to elaborate, “I worked too damn much– me ‘nd my lil’ brother we uh, had a business together–”

“Contractors,” you remembered.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “that’s right.”

“What’s his name?” you asked.

“Who’s name?” Joel frowned.

“Your brother,” you said, the ‘duh’ not spoken out loud, but your tone indicative of it either way.

“Uh, Tommy.”

“Joel and Tommy,” he could hear the smile in your voice. “What’s he like?”

Joel sucked in a breath, “A pain in my ass first of all.”

A playful slap landed on his chest and Joel couldn’t help but smile, “I’m serious.”

Interlocking his fingers with your hand on his chest, Joel opened up to you. “Tommy always wanted to be a hero. He enlisted in the army right outta high school, I was… well, it doesn’t matter– they shipped him off to Iraq a few months later and he…” Joel trailed off, his eyes fixating on a crack in the ceiling.

“What happened when he got back?” you gently asked with a squeeze of his hand.

“Turns out bein’ in the army doesn’t make you feel much like a hero,” Joel sighed, “I watched out for him, kept him outta trouble, made sure he had a steady job.”

“You’re a good brother,” you told him, but Joel felt the opposite.

“I don’t know,” Joel shook his head slightly, “Then the outbreak happens, and Tommy convinces me to join a group makin’ their way up to Boston, which I did, mostly to keep an eye on him, keep him alive. We meet Tess, join a crew ‘nd… did some things I ain’t proud of, but we were survinin’, right?”

You squeezed his hand again, urging him to continue. “Then Tommy meets Marlene. She talks him into joinin’ the Fireflies. Same mistake he made when he was eighteen– wants to save the world. ‘Course, last I heard he quit the Fireflies too. So, now he’s on his own out there.”

“And that’s how you ended up here, looking for him.” You said the words slowly, like you were contemplating each word, “and he’s still out there somewhere.”

A lump of guilt grew in Joel’s throat. Had he abandoned his brother for the safety of your arms? Let Tess die for nothing?

“Yeah,” he swallowed around his guilt, “Last contact I heard from him came from around the Cody tower– in Wyoming.”

“Cody?” you sat up, “That’s not too far from Jackson… maybe that’s where he is? I need to ask Arthur, but there’s no other settlements around here except in Jackson.”

A small glimmer of hope awakened in him, “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you nodded your head, “when spring comes you should go to Jackson with Arthur– maybe he’s there!”

Your enthusiasm was cute; the way you seemed to glow above him. “Maybe,” he hummed, noncommittedly, as he pulled you down to rest against his chest again.

A moment passed in silence before you whispered, “And this Tess… was she your wife?”

“No, she… she was my partner– but she was family.” The words strained in his throat, like they didn’t want to come out, “She’s dead… got bit.”

“I’m sorry, Joel,” you said, your voice gentle as you squeezed him tighter. “I understand… my family–” you cut yourself of, but Joel understood.

Dead.

“Arthur said I wasn’t the first person passin’ through. I’m guessing that was you?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “I uh, my family and I, we were travelling with a group. It wasn’t very large, but I guess it was big enough to draw attention. One night, uh,” your voice started to tremble, and it broke something in Joel.

“Angel,” he whispered, his hand wrapping tighter around you, “It’s okay, you can tell me.”

“I’m sorry,” you sniffled, “it’s just really hard to talk about.”

“Don’t apologize, I know baby, I know,” Joel soothed before pressing light kisses to the top of your head.

“One night,” you cleared your throat, “We’d camped, had dinner and I… I waited for my parents to fall asleep so I could sneak into the tent of this boy that I liked, Ben. He was the only person my age in our group. I had just turned eighteen and I was in love, I guess.”

You paused, and Joel pressed another kiss to the top of your head. “We were fooling around in his tent when I heard something outside,” you continued, “Ben said I was being paranoid, that I was just afraid to get caught by my parents, but then we heard a gunshot. It was chaos, e-everything, t-they’d killed my family, Ben, e-everyone. I managed to hide behind a tree, my feet were like frozen to the ground, I-I couldn’t run. I saw each and every face of the men who murdered my family. They raided the camp, took e-everything.”

“Angel,” Joel soothed when you started crying, “You’re safe… you’re safe now.”

“I don’t know how I did it, but I managed to get away– I just ran, ran as fast as I could for as long as I could. I’ve never been so cold, or tired or hungry as when I stumbled on this farm. I don’t remember the first days, I was so sick, but Alma and Arthur took care of me– I owe them everything, they saved my life.”

You were full on crying now, and Joel tried his best to calm you. He whispered soothing words in your ear, pressed soft kisses to your skin, and held you in his arm. He let you cry, as he cursed the people who’d done this to you – cursed the world who continued to take, and take, and take.

Joel couldn’t leave you, and maybe deep down he’d know it for a long time. He’d do as you’d suggested and go with Arthur to Jackson come spring, but he was coming back for you.

He wasn’t gonna leave you.

The days came and went and collected into a tranquil rhythm of the cogs in Joel’s routine. He’d wake to the bleeding blade of the sun over the lip of the mountain, or your kisses over his heavy eyelids. After that first night together, you slept in his bed more nights than not, as his bed transformed into a room for just the two of you. A place where Joel didn’t have to think or be anything other than completely himself. A place to laugh and smile, whisper under the bright moon, and hear his name fall from your lips in breathy moans.

Your chest rose and fell in a steady beat, your eyes closed so delicately you looked like a sleeping angel. And you were, his angel. Joel never made a habit of watching you sleep, but sometimes he’d indulge himself in the peacefulness of the hour between night and dusk. By the time the room started to turn blue with the morning light, that’s when Joel missed you too much; wrapping his arms around you with just enough movement to wake you without being blamed.

He’d let you dream for a few moments longer, though. Content to lay in the silence with you before the noise of the day would pull you apart. But the moment of peace could only last for so long, the soft thumps of Alma’s steps down the stairs told Joel it was time to wake up.

Under the crinkling of the sheets, Joel’s hand found the dip in your waist. He was about to kiss you good morning when he heard Alma’s steps come closer and closer. A surge of panic coursed to his chest.

“Joel?” she knocked on his door.

“I ain’t decent yet, Alma,” Joel yelled through the door. The loud bass of his voice made you blink your eyes open, looking up at him with a curious look.

“I’m sorry Joel– I was just letting you know that Arthur isn’t feeling well today.”

Joel sighed. This was the third time in as many weeks Arthur was sick, and now Joel was in for another day alone with the work and the trees.

“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll be out in a second.”

“I’m going to get started on breakfast for you, Joel,” she answered.

When Joel had thanked Alma, and her steps had faded away, Joel indulged himself in a morning kiss. The way your lips slotted against his felt like oxygen rebounding his lungs.

“Again?” you sighed when you broke away from the kiss, your hand found his hair to brush a curl from his face.

“’s the cold I reckon– ‘nd the work… it ain’t exactly easy on the old man.”

You hummed and cupped his chin. “Maybe I should go with you today? Help you out?” you posed.

Joel heard himself chuckle and shook his head, “That ain’t happenin’, angel.”

A gasp left your lips in mock shock, “Why?”

“’Cause the animals would miss you, and I intend on stayin’ on their good side,” he said, a smile hanging off his face.

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully, intent on making him cave, “They’ll be fine.”

Joel only laughed, “You say that ‘nd the next thing I know I got Colonel Eggsworth on my ass.”

“I don’t believe that,” now you were giggling, “Colonel Eggsworth is the nicest rooster we’ve had!”

“I ain’t takin’ any chances, angel,” Joel pecked your lips.

“Coward,” he heard you mumble under your breath as he got out of bed. It made Joel smile, and a warmth gathered around his heart.

Back in the routine, after another quick kiss, you sneakily slipped back into your room to get dressed. While Joel pulled his sweater over his head, he thought about what it meant to wake up each morning with you and feel three words rive at his heart, never having it in him to say them, to let them spill out his mouth.

Maybe saying nothing was honesty’s default. Maybe it was how he could avoid telling you all the stupid things he wanted to say. So, for now he said nothing. Said nothing at the breakfast table. Nothing when you’d helped him saddle up Ingydar. And nothing as you waved him goodbye.

After months working in the woods, Joel did his work on autopilot. He always started with a reconnaissance round, looking for which trees to chop down. Then, with the weight of the axe in his hands, he’d start his work. Now, after they’d brought the horse out, the work was somewhat easier. He still had to chop down the tree, and clean off the branches, but he could move the trunks much easier now with the horse.

The wind howled like a hound, biting at Joel’s cheeks but the sun was out, and Joel didn’t mind. He’d gotten used to the cold by now, and Arthur had taught him quickly how to layer up. The increasing number of knitted pieces of clothing you’d made him also helped.

By the time the sun was at its highest peak, Joel debated going back for lunch. He’d done so every time he was alone out here, and especially after they’d started bringing the horse. The walk back had been cut in half on horseback, maybe even more than half now that he didn’t have to wade through the snow.

Looking back, Joel almost couldn’t see Ingydar where he’d tied him to a tree. He’d gone deeper into the woods than yesterday. Maybe it wasn’t worth it today? He could eat his packed lunch and finish up a little earlier instead.

The days had gotten shorter and shorter, and the hours of daylight had shrunk in the months he and Arthur had been working. But the sun had turned, Joel felt it. It wasn’t much, maybe a half hour or so, but he felt the difference.

He ate his lunch in the company of Ingydar, feeding him some carrots he’d snagged from the basement. He was a good horse, old and tired but hard working. Joel worked until the sun dropped behind the mountain, a shadow coating the world as it grew darker and darker. He needed to get back before it got properly dark. Joel quickly gathered his things, swinging his gun over his shoulders before he was back on horseback.

The horse knew the way back by itself at this point, even in the dark, but something wasn’t right. What was that smell? Small snowflakes started to fall from the sky the closer he got to the edge of the wood, but the smell only grew stronger.

Smoke.

Thoughts tumbled in Joel’s head, small fleets on a stormy sea. With a kick to the sides of Ingydar, they picked up their pace. The muted rhythm of horse hoofs against the packed snow trail, beat along to Joel’s heart.

A cloud of smoke rose up to the sky, dancing through bright yellow and orange flames. Joel couldn’t get there fast enough, pushing Ingydar to the limit as they galloped up the trail to the house. Joel’s heart was in his throat.

What the fuck was happening?

The flames licked at the sky, devouring the house, moaning and kicking like a beast. The heat was unbearable, the light almost blinding. Ingydar neighed loudly as Joel quickly jumped down, not bothering to tie him to something or calm him down. Joel watched the house burn in total disbelief. Frozen to the ground by shock, his heart beating loudly in his ears.

You.

Where were you? You had to been able to get out somehow, right? Why was everything so quiet?

Something caught his eye then, only a few steps from the porch stairs. His feet carried him without a second thought. Arthur was clad in only his pajamas and his robe. He must’ve been forced out of bed. The snow around him was stained crimson from where the life had spilled out of him.

Joel’s first thought was that he was dead, but then Arthur’s eyes flickered open to find Joel’s. The snow creaking under Joel’s shoes must’ve pulled him from his slowed death.

“Joel?” he croaked, blood spilling from his mouth.

“Don’t try ‘nd speak.” Joel’s voice came out colder than he’d expected. This couldn’t be real. Falling to his knees, Joel worked quickly, placing Arthur’s head gently in his lap as he found the source of the bleeding.

The blood oozed from a hole in his stomach. A bullet wound, most definitely. Joel put as much pressure on it as he could manage. His mittens drank the blood greedily, saturated by red. It just kept coming, the warmth coating his fingers.

What the fuck had happened?

Under him Arthur coughed, spilling more blood down his chin, coating his white beard in red. “Listen…”

Joel shook his head. This couldn’t be happening. This was just a bad dream. If he could just open his eyes, he’d be back in bed with you. He just needed to open his eyes.

“She’s alive,” Arthur managed to say, “They took her alive. Raiders–” another cough, “Broke in. Alma dead.”

The panic in Arthur’s face was almost too much for Joel to watch. His breath was heavy, breathing through this new information as his head spun with questions. Arthur’s eyes glazed over, and Joel knew there wasn’t enough time.

“Where is she?” he hurried, his hand lightly tapping Arthur on his cheek. He just needed to stay alive a little longer.

“Woods.” Was the only word Arthur could manage, as he used the last of his strength to point south.

An awful stench mixed with the smoke, and Joel knew Arthur was gonna die. His body couldn’t control itself anymore, ridding itself of the last of pieces of life. There was nothing beautiful about it. Nothing peaceful or dignified. Not how an old man like Arthur should leave this world.

Joel grabbed Arthur’s hand, it was clammy and cold, but it was the least he could do – Arthur wasn’t gonna die alone. He tried to think of something to say, anything at all, but the words died on his tongue.

“Alma…” Arthur whispered with his last breath, and Arthur’s hand went slack in his hand.

An eerie silence fell over the farm, safe from the fire crackling and moaning. Emotions raged inside Joel, fighting to bubble to the top. Anger, confusion, guilt, grief. A loud crack could be heard, like glass shattering, and it pulled Joel from his shock. He gently laid Arthur down on the ground, before he managed to rise on unsteady feet.

A loud noise started ringing in his ears, and Joel’s breath started coming out in an uneven pace. Shit. Joel tied a fist over his chest, his body tilting forward as he tried to catch his breath over the panic tying up his throat. He took a few shuffling steps before he hurled, gall burning his tastebuds as Joel vomited on the ground.

When he’d thrown up all there was in his stomach, Joel groaned. He ripped off the bloody mittens as quickly as he could, his hands digging into the white snow to wash his mouth of the bitter taste.

Joel burned inside and outside. Standing so close to the house, the heat was unbearable. Everything was unbearable. Sarah was dead, Tess was dead, Alma was dead, and Arthur was dead.

Could he take anymore grief? Joel wondered. How much grief was a man supposed to endure in a lifetime? None of this was fair.

Had he just gone back to the house for lunch, they’d all be alive. Had he not dragged her across the country to find his stupid brother, she’d still be alive. Had he not told that soldier she was hurt, she’d still be alive.

As he stared into the raging fire, Joel felt his own anger simmer to the surface. It pushed away all the grief, and the guilt, and sharpened his senses, made him laser focused. His arms and legs moved by their own accord, tugging the shotgun from his shoulder, before he started moving in the direction Arthur had pointed.

They were gonna pay for this. They’d made his world go up in flames and struck the match on their own life in return.

As Joel vanished into the night, he left a piece of himself behind. He was going to find you. He was going to hold you and kiss you again. Nothing or no one could come in the way of that.

Nothing could come in the way of Joel.

i hope someone liked this? i'm very curious about what your thoughts for the last part will be, so if you have them please leave a comment, reply or an ask. they are always super welcomed, and they make me super happy <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

next part -> here!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal

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romeoandjulietyouwish · 3 months ago

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money troubles

Januarys in Tulsa were a different kind of hell. You wouldn’t think it would get that cold in Oklahoma, but Darry was surprised every year when December rolled around. His brothers hoarded blankets, stacking them as high as they could go. January and February were even worse.

It was his first winter without his parents, without his father’s salary. Heat was expensive, more so since their windows were thin and the doors couldn’t shut properly. Darry held out as long as possible before turning the heating on.

Pony grumbled a little, wrapping up in blankets and wearing Darry’s old football sweatshirts over every outfit.

One night in December, Darry was half asleep when his bedroom door opened and his brothers padded their way over to his bed. He barely had enough time to wake up before they crawled on top of him and settled down. Before he could ask what was wrong, he felt Pony’s cold toes being pressed to his shin.

“Y’all are freezing,” Darry murmured as Soda snuggled into his side, forcing his cold nose against Darry’s shoulder. He sighed and rubbed their backs, “I’ll turn on the heat tomorrow.” With his Christmas bonus, they would be fine with the added expense.

January was when things got hard.

It was midnight and Darry sat alone at the dining table. When finances were tight, he always did the bookkeeping after the boys went to bed. He didn’t need them worrying, that was his job. And based on his calculations, they’d have to cut back somewhere. It was heat or food.

Darry’s head fell into his hands. What the hell was he supposed to do? He never wished for his parents more than he did at that moment. A tear dripped onto the notebook paper in front of him.

He could eat less, leave more for everyone else. That would save some money at least. But not nearly enough. Pony had track, he needed to be eating his fill. And if they didn’t eat with them, he didn’t know where half the gang would get their next meal.

But if he turned off the heat, well he honestly didn’t know what would happen. He knew he couldn’t stand to see his brothers shivering in the cold, he couldn’t watch them bundle up and pretend nothing was wrong.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

He didn’t hear the front door opening, or the footfalls in the entryway. He didn’t know that Two-Bit was inside until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Darry jumped, raising his hands defensively.

Two-Bit smirked and raised his hands, “Woah there, cowboy.” Then he saw the tears in Darry’s eyes. “What’s goin’ on? Is everyone okay?”

“Everyone’s fine.” Darry swallowed thickly and ran a hand over his face, “Ain’t nothing for you to worry about. The couch is open if you want to crash.”

Two-Bit’s eyes fell to the page in front of Darry and his eyes widened. Too late, Darry moved to cover it. Two had already seen. “Shit, I didn’t know things were that bad.”

“It’s none of your business,” Darry said shortly. He closed the notebook and slid it under a newspaper.

He tried to stand up, but Two put a hand on his shoulder and forced him to stay seated. Two-Bit sat down in Pony’s usual chair. He was quiet for a long moment, leg jogging under him. Then he nodded to himself and started digging in his pockets.

A moment later, he put a handful of crumpled bills and a stack of coins in front of Darry. Based on his quick math, it was almost twenty five dollars.

“I’m not takin’ your money.” Darry leaned back as though physical distance could make the money go away. “Where did you even get this much money?”

Two-Bit shrugged, “Texas Hold ‘Em, odd jobs for a guy my ma knows. It’s not even that much money.” It was. It would be enough for food and heat and extra for next month.

“I can’t take this,” Darry pushed it towards his friend. He and Two-Bit had been pals for as long as he could remember, they practically grew up together. Two-Bit was a good guy, Darry trusted him with his family more than anyone else. He knew that Two could use this money for his mom or his sister. Why on earth would he give it to Darry?

“You need it. It’s not even that much.” Two-Bit sighed and for the first time in a long time, Darry didn’t smell alcohol on him. “Look, you help me and the boys, you give us food and…” He nodded his head towards the bedrooms, “I know Johnny is sleeping in the spare room. You forced him to so he wouldn’t sleep outside.” Darry looked down, it was true. “Exactly. So take the goddamn money and keep your kid brothers warm. And the rest of us yahoos that traipse through your door.”

Darry stared at Two-Bit, saying nothing. Two-Bit rolled his eyes, “It should not be this hard to convince a guy to take money.”

“I don’t-”

“Darry.” Two-Bit and Darry turned around to see Soda standing in the doorway. His hair was all a mess and he looked like he was still half asleep. “What’s going on?”

Darry threw on a smile, “A stray just wandered through the door.” He slapped Two-Bit on the shoulder. “Figured I’d let him stay the night and then go from there. Ya think we should keep him?”

Soda chuckled, “Just until morning.” He yawned. “Y’all need to talk quieter. Pony and Johnny are fast asleep.”

“Will do,” Darry told him. “Goodnight, Pepsi.” Soda just yawned again and waved before plodding back to bed. Darry’s eyes stayed at where he was for a long moment. Then he turned back to his friend.

Soda and Pony deserved a home that was warm and safe and with enough food for them and all their friends. They needed this money. He could suffer the shame of accepting money from a friend just this once.

So he grit his teeth and said, “I don’t want to be makin’ a habit of this.”

Two-Bit grinned, “Wouldn’t dream of it, superman.”

He squeezed Darry’s shoulder, “I’m going to sleep on the couch, tell Johnny that I get the bed next time.” Darry snorted and shook his head, that was never going to happen.

Darry looked at the pile of money for a long moment. His hands shook ever so slightly as he tucked it into the coffee can on top of the fridge.

When he turned back, Soda was standing in the doorway again, watching him. He seemed more awake now. They just looked at each other for a long moment.

Soda crossed the room in two strides and hugged Darry. Just from that, Soda knew Darry had heard, or at least seen his exchange with Two-Bit. He knew that Soda worried about him, probably far too much. To Soda, Darry accepting help was nothing short of a miracle.

“I love you,” Soda said softly. “You’re doing a really good job.”

Darry’s throat became thick with tears and he held Soda just a little tighter. “Thank you, honey.” Since their parents died, he’d been adrift, trying desperately to keep everything together. He kissed Soda’s head, “I love you too.” Darry pulled back and pushed Soda’s hair out of his face. Without all that grease, Soda’s hair was constantly covering his eyes. “Go back to bed.”

Soda huffed, “What if I don’t wanna?”

Darry couldn’t help the laugh that bust from his chest, “You’re soundin’ an awful lot like Ponyboy.”

“And he’s my favorite brother, so what?” Soda said sarcastically, earning him a thawk on the head from Darry. A few months ago, that would have hurt, even if it was a joke. Now he knew his brother was being a knucklehead, delirious in his sleep-addled mind.

“Go to bed, short stack,” Darry said, giving Soda a light shove towards the hallway. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Soda smirked. He gave Darry another quick squeeze before darting back towards his bed. Darry followed him a few minutes later.

Unable to help himself, he ducked his head into the spare room where Johnny and Pony had fallen asleep. The two of them were curled towards each other like parentheses, Pony’s thumb still holding place in his book.

With a fond smile, he leaned over the bed and pulled the book from his brother’s hands. He slipped a bookmark in and set it to the side table. Both the boys were covered in a thick blanket. Darry adjusted it around their shoulders.

One of Johnny’s eyes squinted open, “What?”

Just like he would one of his brothers, Darry touched his head affectionately, “Just me, buddy. Go back to sleep.” His heart warmed at the trust Johnny displayed as he closed his eyes again and snuggled back down. That was why he needed the money, Johnny needed a safe place to stay.

Darry closed the bedroom door and then moved to check on Soda. His idiot brother was still awake, not even pretending to sleep. Darry leaned into the door frame, “Golly, you’d think you were six, not sixteen.”

Soda stuck his tongue out, only proving Darry’s point. “I’m goin’ to sleep. Wanted to make sure you didn’t try to pull an all-nighter.”

“Goodnight, Soda,” Darry said meaningfully.

“Night.” Soda snuggled down into bed with a content look on his face. Darry smiled and finally headed back to his bedroom.

#the outsiders #darry curtis #two bit mathews #sodapop curtis

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haoboutyou · 1 year ago

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haircut | choi seungcheol

fluff | 646 words | no warnings

an: he got a haircut T-T

The sound of the door unlocking and closing causes you to peek out of the kitchen. Closing your laptop, your chair screeches back as you get up from the dining table, moving to greet Seungcheol at the doorway. Sounds from your padded feet echo across the house as you make your way towards your lover, muffled by the soft carpet flooring.

“Hi Cheollie!” He grins up at you. He hangs up his coat, sitting on the nearby bench to remove his shoes. You had placed the bench in the entryway earlier when he first got injured so he would have an easier time with his shoes. His heart swells every time he sits on it, forever thankful for your thoughtfulness.

“Hi baby.“ You found yourself standing in between his thighs. Your waist automatically encircled by his hands, drawing you in closer. One hand is on his shoulder as you steady yourself, while the other gets entangled in his hair. You briefly recall Seungcheol informing you he was heading to the salon earlier in the morning. Fingers softly run through Seungcheol's hair, ruffling. His hair is shorter now, you note, but still barely covering his eyes. The now ebony strands tumbled and resettled, all fluffed up by your ministrations.

“It's shorter now,” you pout.

Seungcheol laughs aloud at your jutted lips, placing a kiss on the hand on his shoulder. “Yeah, it was getting in the way,” he leans into your touch. Like a puppy seeking warmth and reassurance. It was an instinctive response, an unspoken invitation for more of that comforting contact. He pats on his good knee, gesturing for you to sit on his lap. “You liked my long hair?”

You nod, humming in agreement. His lap makes for a sturdy seat, now eye level to him. “It’s nice like this too, I guess,” you push back his bangs. Examining his face once more. “It makes you look dashing.”

His eyes, still vibrant, held a touch of mischief as if testing the waters to see if your adorable pout could be softened by any resistance. “So you’re saying I wasn’t dashing before this?”

It's the way you let out such an exaggerated gasp that has him grinning from ear to ear. Lightly slapping at his chest, you stand up from his lap, making your way back into the kitchen.

“I hope you go bald,” the threat of your words hides behind the sweet smile you shoot his way. He chuckles at your retreating figure, finally removing his shoes before trailing you into the home.

“Oh, so that’s your type now?” he calls out.

“Mhmm. Hyungwon looks really handsome with his hair shaved.”

Now it's Seungcheol’s turn to be flabbergasted. He takes the opportunity to rewrap his arms around you as you go about setting aside your work on the dining table.

“...You and Jeonghan– You guys hang out too much, I swear.” His voice is muffled as he buries his face in your hair. You can feel his pout against your head, enticing a giggle out of you. Facing him in his arms, you loop your arms around his neck once again. In the warmth of each other's embrace, you tiptoe to peck Seungcheol on the lips.

“You need to use chapstick more,” you murmur against his lips. He smiles into the kiss, pressing you even closer to him.

“You need to kiss me more.” He bites down on your lip. The edge of the table presses into your back, causing you to arch into his touch. He prods with his tongue, and–

-his stomach grumbles. Seungcheol groans in annoyance as you pull away, laughing at the impeccable timing of his stomach. You start flitting around the kitchen again, this time pulling out pots and pans instead.

“C’mon,” you pull him towards the fridge. “Help me make dinner? You can pick.”

He sighs, defeated. “Fine, dinner first.”

#scoups #seungcheol #scoups fluff #choi seungcheol #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #seungcheol fluff #choi seungcheol fluff #scoups x reader #seungcheol x reader #˙✧˖° aiyu writes ༘ ⋆｡˚

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tofuxtea · 1 year ago

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𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈 | 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙝 𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 + 𝙨𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙥𝙪𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙘

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 — vinsmoke sanji x fem!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — nsfw, thigh riding, semi-public, praise, but also sanji’s a fucking tease. at the fucking dinner table, lap-sitting, reader fucks herself on sanji’s thigh per his instruction and the strawhats are like five feet away, “love”, “sweetheart” and “pretty girl” are used.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 — 1k words. not thoroughly proofread, also kinda short. i was honestly just thinking about live action!sanji’s thick ass thighs and wrote this on a whim. also yes, this is with taz’s sanji in mind, but you can imagine either! [kintober m.list]

“comfortable, love?”

sanji whispered lowly into your ear, his hands curling around your hips as he gently shifted you in his lap. you could hardly hear him over luffy and usopp’s boisterous shouts from across the room, but you nodded nonetheless.

the straw-hats were having a small celebration — for nothing in particular, though. luffy did that often. gathered the very diverse crew into the dining hall for a feast that sanji had cooked and led parties that often ran until the next morning.

the food had long been finished by now, and the party slowly started turning to silly games and drinks. luffy had usopp, nami, and zoro at the table on the other end of the room — nami and zoro observing more than playing — fully absorbed in some sort of charades game.

you and sanji were still at the dinner table; sanji was tired from all the cooking, you were tired from looking at the mess you knew you would be cleaning later.

at some point during your silent moping, sanji had pulled you onto his thigh, gently caressing your shoulder while he watched his captain fool around with the rest of the crew.

while his captain distracted the rest of the crew, more like.

your back straightened when you noticed sanji’s gentle, loving touches take a sudden shift in nature. the pads of his fingers abandoned the lazy circles they were rubbing into your back and trailed down to your hip, his hold tightening.

“sanji,” you whispered, an ounce of warning in your voice as you peered over your shoulder, flinching when you saw the mischievous glint in his eye. “what’re you doing?” you started to lift yourself off of his thigh, knowing that look all too well, when he yanked you flush against his chest, a small yelp escaping you in his haste.

sanji, enjoying himself a bit too much, slipped his hand over the expanse of your thigh and wrapped his arm tightly around your waist while you tried to convince the others that sanji had accidentally tickled you and that was why you yelled. nami and zoro seemed to be the only ones to hold some doubt towards you, especially when they saw sanji’s smug smirk, but they eventually lost interest.

you landed a harsh slap to his arm, turning to glare at him. “sanji, they’re right there.” you whispered, back over towards the group to make sure no one had decided to take a double take, but they were too immersed in usopp’s poor impression of a ballerina.

sanji took a quick look over at them, shrugging. “looks like you’ll just have to be quiet, hm?”

you couldn’t deny the whine that bubbled in your gut when he said that, his confidence somehow fueling into yours. “come on, i’ll help you with dishes later, how’s that sound?” he accepted your considerate stare as confirmation and snaked his hand further between your legs, easing them open over his thigh. “that’s it.”

part of you expected his skilled fingers to start toying with your clit over your panties with how eagerly he was behaving, but instead his hand retreated and wrapped firmly around your hip.

“you gonna move or do i have to do it for you, love?” he practically groaned into your ear, his leg impatiently beginning to bounce you in his lap, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. it almost gained the attention of the group yet again, but it seemed your gasp was covered by an especially loud laugh from luffy. “ah, what’d i say?” teased sanji.

gods, you wanted to sock him in his perfect face. “you’re not exactly making it easy for me, are you?” you snapped.

“then do it yourself, babe.” his encouraging hand left your hips and went straight in between your legs, slowly circling your clit through your already dampened panties.

you couldn’t help but rut your hips into his touch, biting back an especially loud moan when he brushed over a sensitive spot. bracing your palms against the table that thankfully shielded a lot of what was happening, you slowly rocked yourself back and forth on sanji’s thigh.

the man rested his forehead against your shoulder blade, a strained sigh pushing from his nose as he tried to keep his composure. his strong hands helped you roll your hips in time to a gentle rhythm that had your abdomen coiling already.

“that’s it, sweetheart,” sanji’s accented voice sounded so sultry and playful in your ear that you wanted to fire something back at him, but your senses were damn near fried by that point.

his fingers started rubbing at your clit faster, rolling over the sensitive bud and applying just the right amount of pressure that had your back arching. “sanji—” you whispered, but the rest of whatever the hell you were going to say got caught in your throat along with a sharp cry.

“c’mon, it’s alright, love.” he encouraged you further. the arm that had been locked around your waist slowly uncoiled itself and he used his free hand to hold your legs open when your thighs started to squeeze together. “don’t get all shy on me.”

“sanji,” you barely had control over your own voice, using whatever strength you had left in you to whisper his name against gritted teeth as you were thrown over the edge. your hips stuttered and your legs threatened to give out completely.

sanji kept you upright, his touch softening against your clit as you rode through your orgasm. “there it is, my pretty girl.”

you propped yourself up on the table, eyes fluttered shut while you tried to get yourself together. you could feel your cheeks burning at the thought of your captain and crew-mates being within earshot of you two, yet completely unaware of what you’d just gotten away with.

“all that and i barely touched you. you like having an audience or something?” sanji shamelessly teased you, gently bouncing his knee underneath you, which drew a loud gasp from you.

you threw a harsh smack over your shoulder, landing it on the top of his head. “don’t test me, sanji.”

tbh i am thoroughly in love with this man. and his fucking accent. and like tell me he wouldn’t do some shit like this fr.

#kinktober #one piece kinktober #one piece #vinsmoke sanji #op sanji #sanji x reader #opla sanji #sanji opla #sanji op #vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji smut #one piece smut #one piece sanji smut #one piece sanji #vinsmoke sanji smut

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ginnsbaker · 7 months ago

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fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (10/?)

Part Summary: “Leigh, are you jealous?” you ask, taking a deliberate step towards her. You hold her captive with your eyes, making it impossible for Leigh to look away.

“I’m with Danny.” Her voice cracks as she takes a step back.

“That’s not an answer,” you whisper softly, closing the distance between you again.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 6.200+ | Warnings: UST, fluff, very light angst | Author's note: I think the summary should tell you what to expect *winks*.

Despite going to bed very late, getting up in the morning isn't hard for you. Though it’s mainly because you barely had any rest at all. The real reason you couldn't sleep wasn’t the couch’s fault—it was the soft, irregular snores drifting in from the bedroom and the new, quiet awareness of someone else in your apartment. Every so often, Leigh would make a sound or shift in her sleep, and you would clench your fist hard against the blanket, resisting the urge to go check on her.

The stillness of the early dawn settles around you, and Leigh’s words come back to you like a quiet sail. “Do you know how intimate it is to sleep at someone’s house and not have sex?” she had said once, during one of your long, winding confrontations about Matt. It was a statement that had deeply affected you then, and even more so now, with her just a room away. You remember recoiling when she nearly spat the words at you. You wonder if Leigh also remembers, especially considering last night.

You rise from the couch before your alarm has a chance to ring, padding softly into the kitchen.

Cooking breakfast has become a kind of ritual, an act of service between the two of you. Smiling at this thought, you crack eggs into a bowl, add milk and vanilla, and start whisking. You soak slices of bread in the mixture, heat up the pan, and place them down to cook. French toast is on the menu today, and you hope Leigh likes it.

You set the table quietly, arranging the plates and cutlery, pouring orange juice into glasses. As you lay down the last slice of French toast on the plates, you add a light dusting of powdered sugar and a few slices of fresh strawberries for a pop of color and sweetness. With everything prepared, you sit down at the dining table to wait for Leigh to wake up.

After a while you glance at the clock and see it's 6:30 AM. You need to be at the clinic in an hour. With a sigh, you cover Leigh's plate with a napkin to keep it warm and start eating alone, just as you've done since moving here.

Finishing your breakfast, you wash the dishes and put everything away, your movements mechanical. You know you should get in the shower soon, but everything you'll need to prepare is in the bedroom. Pushing the door open just a crack, you peek inside to see Leigh sleeping peacefully, her face so different from its usual, more troubled visage when awake. She’s lying on her back with her mouth slightly open. The sheets have slipped past her hips, and her shirt has ridden up, exposing her stomach to the cool air. You tiptoe into the room and carefully pull the covers back up over her, tucking them around her gently.

Afterward, you crouch by the bed for a minute, simply observing her steady breathing. You feel a surge of affection as you watch her, wondering if she feels safe here, with you. Her face, relaxed and unguarded, is the very same one that Matt woke up to every day of his life for the past decade until he left this world. You think to yourself what a privilege it was for him, to have shared so many mornings with her, to have been woven into her waking thoughts and dreams.

While you’re cautiously sweeping a few strands of hair from her face, Leigh’s lips suddenly move in her sleep. They part slightly as if she's talking, but no sound escapes. Her forehead creases into a frown��she's clearly dreaming. It's a serious, focused expression that makes her look like she’s deep in conversation with someone in her dream world, and you cover your mouth to stifle a giggle at the sight.

Realizing you've lingered longer than intended, you force yourself to stand. You quietly retrieve a towel and some clothes, deciding to take your shower in the living room bathroom. As you lather soap over your torso, the image of Leigh’s exposed skin haunts your thoughts—the small, soft patch of her stomach you saw earlier. Your fingers inadvertently brush over your own nipples, and you can't help but compare the sensation to what touching Leigh's skin might feel like, if the rest of her body feels just as smooth and supple as it looks. The thought sends a shiver through you, goosebumps forming despite the warm water. Your fingers wander lower almost of their own accord. A gasp escapes your lips when the tip of your forefinger brushes against your clit, the touch sparking an unexpected surge of arousal. Shocked by your own reaction, you quickly turn the shower knob, the water temperature dropping to a chill that snaps you out of your fantasies.

Get a grip, you mutter to yourself, feeling a combination of embarrassment and frustration. Leigh is just in the next room, trusting you, and here you are getting carried away. Shivering a bit under the cold spray, you finish up quickly, wrap yourself in a towel, and get dressed.

You take one last look at Leigh before you leave. She’s still sprawled out in the same comfy position, deep in sleep. Waking her doesn't feel right—not just to say a quick goodbye before you rush off to work. Instead, you jot down a note on a piece of your prescription pad. It’s a quick message letting her know breakfast is ready on the table, she should feel at home, and you’ve left an extra set of keys for her. You apologize for the early exit and sign your name with a flourish. You tuck the note under her plate of French toast, placing the keys beside it. Then, remembering the night might have left her with a bit of a hangover, you put a glass of water and an aspirin by her bed. You're trying to think of everything she might need to start her day off right.

“Bye, Leigh,” you whisper as you give the room one final glance. You step out into the morning, locking up but leaving a part of your mind behind, picturing her waking up comfortable and cared for. It’s ironic that just when you decided to keep your distance, you start running into situations that make you fall even harder for her. It's as if fate is constantly nudging you in her direction.

And frankly, you don't mind it at all.

Leigh stirs slightly, her eyes fluttering open to a room that isn't hers. For a brief, groggy moment, she thinks she’s in Danny’s bed, but the scent is all wrong. Where Danny’s sheets carried a distinct note of sandalwood, they smell of lavender and something more… feminine. The soft difference in fragrance tugs at the edges of her memory, pulling forward the events of the previous day.

She blinks slowly, her mind piecing together the snapshots: the sharp words exchanged with Danny that morning, the solo trip out on Halloween, finding herself unexpectedly in Matt’s favorite restaurant. That’s when you came into the picture, dressed up for a date that never showed, and Leigh stepped in. You both shared a beer on the hood of your car, surrounded by glimmering, dreamlike sights, but all she could focus on was how the streetlights played over your face, making you look almost magical as you laughed, a half-empty box of donuts on your lap. You looked so... pretty, she thinks, the image stubbornly etched in her mind.

The night didn’t end there. She took you to a party. It was loud, crowded, but when you danced, the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you. She remembers drawing you to the dance floor, guiding your hands to her hips as she swayed. She recalls gazing at your lips, wondering how they would feel against hers.

Leigh buries her face into your pillow, her cheeks burning as she reminisces how close you were, your lips barely an inch apart. She tries to laugh it off, but it’s hollow, and her face grows hotter as she recalls you pulling away, the almost-kiss dissolving into nothing. The last-second rejection stings, but what really makes her squirm is the heat flooding her body just from thinking about it. In an attempt to distract herself, Leigh snuggles deeper into your bed, but it backfires. One deep breath and she’s engulfed by the scent you left on the pillow. It feels as if you’re right there beside her, the illusion so convincing that it briefly soothes the ache of your actual absence.

And it's in this moment, surrounded by traces of you, that Leigh finally allows herself to fully acknowledge the attraction she’s been trying to ignore. It's been a slow, maddening realization, an interest that has compounded until it could no longer be overlooked. It’s ridiculous, really, because it sort of feels like she’s proving Matt right, wanting you just like he did. She sits up, clutching the sheets close, her heart racing as she turns over everything in her mind. It feels contradictory yet somehow... inexorable, as if it were always meant to happen.

But Leigh pushes back against the idea that anything in her life is fated, especially when it comes to who she might fall for. She's always believed in steering her own ship, picking her paths, her battles, her loves. Not just going with the flow of something because it feels like the universe is pushing her that way. She wraps the sheets tighter around her, needing to feel safeguarded, needing to remind herself that she calls the shots.

She climbs out of bed and starts pacing restlessly like a mad woman. Yes, there's something about you that pulls at her, but that doesn’t mean she has to lose herself to it. For all she knows, it’s just a silly crush, perhaps amplified by the thought that you might have liked her first. It's probably just that—reciprocal attraction—nothing more.

A sudden noise from the living room jerks Leigh out of her tumultuous thoughts, and she frantically whips her head towards the door. It’s been so loud inside her head, that she hasn’t even considered the possibility that you might be out there—in your own apartment. Leigh stops pacing and strains to hear more.

There’s another sound. Thud. Thud.

With a shaky breath, she calls out, “Y/N?”

When no answer comes, Leigh edges out of the bedroom tentatively, as if stepping into her own trial. Her nerves are strung tight with anticipation of confronting you, the newly-minted object of her affection. However, as she rounds the corner, she finds only an empty living room. The quiet is almost startling. Another thud makes her jump—a dull, persistent noise. Turning towards it, she sees only pigeons at the living room window, poking their beaks against the glass, and Leigh exhales a long sigh of relief.

Intrigued, Leigh approaches the window to observe the pigeons. They remain undisturbed as she draws closer, diligently pecking at seeds scattered on the windowsill. So, you’ve been feeding them. It’s a small, charming detail about you that she hadn’t known, and it warms her heart to see this caring, tender side of you. Much like the way you took care of her last night, she feels like one of those pigeons.

Leigh leans against the wall next to the window, watching the pigeons bob their heads and shuffle around. Her eyes then drift to the dining table and land on a plate, invitingly covered, with a piece of paper peeking out beneath it. She walks over and lifts the cover to reveal a hearty serving of French toast, artfully arranged and topped with a sprinkle of powdered sugar and fresh strawberries.

The sight of the breakfast makes her mouth water, and without thinking, she reaches out with her hands and takes a bite. It's still slightly warm, a sign that you haven't been gone long. Comforted by this thought, she pulls out a dining chair and settles in, making herself comfortable. Then, picking up the note, she unfolds it to read while she enjoys her breakfast.

Hope you enjoy the French toast. I had to head out early, but I wanted to make sure you had a warm start to your day. Please make yourself at home, help yourself to anything you need, and here’s some extra keys to the apartment just in case. Sorry to miss saying goodbye this morning. I hope we can catch up later when I'm back - Y/N

Leigh bites her lip, staring down at the note and the keys beside it. It feels so... domestic. Almost too familiar, but too quickly. She can't help but recall the countless times she left similar notes for Matt, scribbled in haste before dashing off to her early morning classes at the Beautiful Beast. Her trips to Danny's apartment never felt quite like this. It had always felt more like a love nest, designed for pleasure, not partnership. It was somewhere to escape to, not a space she could ever see herself belonging in, being her own. But here, with these keys in front of her, it's different. This feels like stepping back into an old pair of shoes that doesn't quite fit the same way anymore.

Leigh hesitates, unsure if this is a good thing. If you are a good thing. With Danny, everything was safe, predictable. He wants her more than she wants him, and in a twisted way, that imbalance has become an assurance. It’s easier, requiring less vulnerability on her part. But with you, the balance feels equal, perhaps even tipping in a way that makes Leigh unsure of where she stands, unsure of her control over the situation.

That terrifies her. And she hasn't felt this scared since Matt left.

As if on cue, a loud ringing blares through the apartment. Leigh blinks, pulled abruptly back to the present, and realizes she has no idea where she left her phone. She scrambles to her feet, her search for the phone turning into a clumsy dance as she trips over herself in the process. After a brief, frantic search that feels longer than it probably is, she traces her steps back to your bedroom. There, beside the bed where she'd woken up, her phone is vibrating against the hardwood floor. The screen lights up with the name “Jules”. Leigh swipes to answer, holding the phone a bit shakily to her ear.

“Danny’s here.”

Shit, shit shit.

“Just get rid of him, Jules. I'll call him later,” Leigh says.

There's a brief pause on the other end of the line, and then—

“Where are you, anyway?” Jules asks.

Leigh glances around, fiddling with the phone in her hand before answering, “I’m at a friend’s place.”

“Oh,” Jules lets out a low whistle. “Anyone I know?”

Leigh takes a deep breath. “Y/N.”

Jules falls silent, her breath the only sound coming through the phone. Leigh can almost visualize her sister on the other end, puzzling over why Leigh spent the night at your apartment and wondering if something happened between you two. She anticipates the barrage of questions that will greet her when she gets home.

“Leigh, I—” Jules starts to say.

“Don't. I'm leaving soon. Please make sure Danny's not there when I arrive. Please,” Leigh says.

“Okay,” Jules says simply, and then the line goes dead.

Leigh leaves the keys where you left them and takes your note with her.

As the day wears on, your phone remains dishearteningly quiet. You keep checking, hoping for a simple message from Leigh—a thank you for the bed, a comment on the breakfast, or just a note to say she’s left your apartment. But nothing comes through. Each passing hour stretches your patience thinner and makes you question every detail of last night.

Her lack of reaction leaves you with too much time to think. After the debacle with Sara and the no-show date you met from a dating app, you had felt a surge of disillusionment. So much so that last night, after Leigh left your car and walked into the party, you found yourself uninstalling the dating app from your phone in a moment of clarity. You decide it's time to focus on what feels more real, on what your heart has been screaming all along.

Leigh.

You want Leigh, and you’re going to go after her. Forget about Danny. You won't let Leigh spend another Halloween alone, or Christmas, or New Year’s. You're resolved to be there for all the important dates—and, if you're lucky, every day in between.

Hey Leigh, just checking in to see how you’re doing. Hope your day was good, you type and hit send. You won’t wait anymore for her to reach out when you can just let her know you’ve been thinking of her. You toss your phone down and rub your hands on your face. Now it’s just a matter of waiting to see if she feels the same.

Leigh postpones meeting with Danny until later that evening, having spent the day lounging in bed and replaying the songs you had on in your car the previous night. She received your text, but she hasn’t even opened it yet. It's silly, but she feels that if she starts talking to you, a dam will burst—and she's not ready for that. Instead, she reaches out to Danny, asking him over so they can talk.

When Danny arrives, she doesn't invite him inside. Since Jules and her mom are home, they walk to the front steps and sit side by side, maintaining a slight distance between them.

It’s Danny who breaks the silence first. “Leigh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you so hard. Look, I just think it's a great opportunity for us—or for me, at least. And since you’re not tied down to the Beautiful Beast anymore, and your writing and part-time job are flexible, I thought... Why not?”

Leigh's expression hardens at the mention of her old job, at Danny's reasoning, and his diligent insistence. She didn’t call him over to rehash the fight they just had yesterday.

“Just because I can work from anywhere doesn't mean I want to leave,” she says. “And if we're going to have the same argument again, then you should just go.”

When Danny told Leigh he had landed a job as a retail associate at a high-end hotel in Vegas, he expected she’d be happy for him. She was, but when he suggested they move there for a fresh start, her response was an unflinching no, leaving him feeling wounded.

“But what's really keeping you here, Leigh? I mean, besides your family. Is there something else?” he asks.

At the question, Leigh feels the past and present colliding. First, she sees Matt's face, always Matt's face—his smile, the comfort of his presence that used to fill her days. Then her mind flickers to the times she found herself passing your clinic after long, aimless drives meant to clear her head. Your face starts to overlap with her memories of Matt, not replacing but somehow intertwining.

“Matt,” Leigh forces herself to say, forces herself to believe. “If I leave this place, it's like... it's like I'm leaving him for good. I know it sounds crazy, but that’s how it feels.”

“Matt's been gone for a long time. You think he'd want you to just stop living your life? Waiting for what? For a ghost?” Danny argues, his voice rising just a little. He looks away, down the shadowy street. His hands ball into fists and then relax. Under the weak glow of the streetlamp, it’s as if Matt’s shadow stretches beside him, a long, imposing figure that Danny can never seem to escape.

“Leigh, I’m just trying to help us move forward, that’s all,” he continues, softer, more defeated. Leigh catches the tightness of his expression, the effort it takes him to stay calm. She reaches out, her fingertips lightly touching his knuckles. Danny grabs this small sign of affection, quickly cradling Leigh’s face in his hands and drawing her into a fervent kiss. Leigh doesn’t respond immediately, but then she melts into its familiarity, allowing her lips to be pliable to his.

Danny breaks the kiss, his breath ragged as he searches Leigh's eyes. “Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to leave Matt for good,” he whispers.

She shakes her head, her voice trembling. “I-I don't know, Danny—”

“Leigh, I love you.”

It's the first time either of them has said it. Leigh had imagined fireworks or something clicking into place when it happened. She expected the grand declaration to sweep her off her feet, but instead, she finds herself still teetering on the brink, not quite ready to leap. But what she cannot ignore is the sincerity in his words. Danny has loved her through her worst—in his own way. It's not easy to dismiss or reject such devotion.

“You don’t have to say it back,” Danny says quickly. He's afraid of hearing her say no again. Silence would be better; he could let himself believe that maybe she felt the same way. Silence could mean ‘yes’, right? he thinks, grasping at straws.

“Leigh, I’m taking that job, and I’m leaving after Thanksgiving. That gives us about a month,” he says, cradling her face now with both hands pleadingly. “Please, just think about it. Think about coming with me.”

Despite her reservations, Leigh ends up saying, “Okay, I'll think about it.”

Danny’s face breaks into a smile. He kisses her again, a soft, reaffirming kiss that seems to thank her for even considering his request.

The next second, Jules interrupts the moment, opening the door unceremoniously. Leigh throws her a sharp look, which her sister disregards with a shrug.

“Logan's been barking at the door for some time now, in case you didn't hear,” Jules drawls, cradling a bowl of cereal—her dinner.

At her words, Logan bursts through the opening and makes a beeline for Leigh. He leaps straight into Leigh's lap, settling in with a decisive huff, his eyes darting possessively from Leigh to Danny. It's as if he's laying claim to her, telling Danny without words that Leigh has roots here too deep to simply pull up, saying, she’s mine, you’re not going to take her away from me.

Leigh pulls Logan closer, thinking about how much you’ll miss him if she decides to go with Danny.

You get home from work just after nine, tossing your keys on the kitchen counter with a weary sigh. A quick check of your phone confirms what you'd been dreading all day: Leigh still hasn't read your message from the afternoon. That sinking feeling of disappointment hits you again—harder this time. It’s like a pattern with her: warm and engaging one day, distant and cold the next. You can't deny that this inconsistency is starting to wear on you. It's bordering on cruel.

What are you doing wrong? Why can’t you figure out what makes her switch off like this?

And then, unable to help it, you send another text.

[9:10 PM] You: Is everything okay?

Dinner is a microwave affair tonight, not that you're really tasting any of it. You sit down to eat, your phone still within sight. That message never gets read either.

Leigh has always been unpredictable, but she has never actively avoided you like this before. She knows what she's doing, leaving your messages unread for the past three days. Just when you declare to the universe that you'd pursue her, she shuts you out completely. You can't even feel sorry for yourself; somehow, you brought this on, right?

When the day rolls around for Logan's next vaccine appointment, you catch yourself nervously checking the time more often than usual. But when the appointment time comes, a different Shaw brings him in. Jules holds onto Logan's leash as he excitedly sniffs every corner of the waiting room, his tail wagging a mile a minute.

“Hey,” Jules greets you, a bit out of breath from handling Logan's forceful tugs. “Leigh had some things to take care of, so I'm on Logan duty today.”

“Of course, no problem at all. How’s he been?” You try to keep your tone light as you kneel down to give Logan some attention, scratching behind his ears the way you know he likes.

“He’s been great, a real bundle of energy,” Jules replies, watching you with Logan. She hesitates before adding, “And Leigh’s been... well, you know Leigh.”

Actually, you think, you don't know Leigh—not as well as you thought. “Yeah,” you respond, looking up at Jules with a forced smile. “I know.”

After you administer the vaccine, the appointment passes with small talk, mostly about Logan’s antics and not much else. Jules is friendly but doesn’t venture into whatever might be happening with Leigh.

Just as you’re seeing Jules off, the clinic door swings open again. And you’re completely unprepared for the person who steps in.

“Hi,” Sara smiles at you, and then lifts the kitten in her hands. “Think you can help me with her, doctor?”

In a moment of unpreparedness, you cough awkwardly to cover your reaction, a flush creeping up your cheeks. “Hi, Sara,” you say, a bit flustered as you usher her inside. “What do we have here?”

“It's a rescue. Found her all alone by the roadside,” Sara explains, handing the tiny kitten to you with a concerned frown.

Jules catches the interaction, her eyes narrowing slightly—not missing how your entire demeanor changes around Sara—who is undeniably beautiful.

“Right this way,” you tell the blonde, leading her to the examination table. “Let's see what we can do for her.”

As soon as you and Sara are out of earshot, Suzie muses aloud, “They'd make a lovely pair, don't you think? If only Y/N wasn't so hung up on a widow…”

Jules stiffens slightly, her voice cool as she says, “And you are?”

“Suzie,” Suzie responds cheerfully, extending a hand to Jules with a bright smile. “Y/N’s assistant and friend. Nice to meet you.”

Jules shakes her hand, her smile polite but reserved. “Jules,” she responds tersely, omitting her connection as Leigh's sister. “So, what about Sara and Y/N?”

Well, Suzie can’t resist a juicy bit of gossip now, can she?

You don't usually pour yourself a glass of wine on a weeknight, but after today, you've cracked open a bottle that's been gathering dust for a year. Sara’s surprise visit at the clinic left you rattled. She had called you out for being distant after the two of you ran into Leigh one morning, and it embarrassed you how right she was. You hadn't been upfront about your emotional availability—or lack thereof—because of your feelings for Leigh.

When you finally admitted to Sara that you were in love with someone else, you braced for a fallout. But instead, Sara laughed, a light, carefree sound that took you by surprise. “I don't mind if you're emotionally unavailable,” she had said with a shrug. “I'm just looking for something casual.”

For a split second, her proposition—friends with benefits—was like candy being dangled in front of you: appetizing and readily available. But that conversation was at work, in the middle of your clinic, and the timing felt all sorts of wrong.

You let the moment pass without responding, and Sara backtracked a little with a noncommittal, “Well, you have my number. I really like you, Y/N. We can be friends, and if you ever need to…unwind, well, I can be your best friend.”

You're midway through your glass of wine when you decide to check your phone again, automatically opening the chat window with Leigh. It's almost become a habit, expecting your messages to remain unread. But this time, Leigh's avatar is right there under the last text you sent. She's read them. Today.

Why now?

Before you can dedicate the rest of your evening into that question, a knock on your door pulls you from your thoughts. It's late, and you don’t remember ordering food delivery. You set your glass down and head over to see who it is.

Upon opening the door, you're greeted by a downcast brunette. She looks nervous, clutching her purse as if it were a lifeline.

“Leigh?”

“Hi,” she says, lifting her eyes to meet yours, searching your face for a reaction. As confused as you are, your heart kicks up a notch simply because she’s there, so close you could reach out and touch her. For a moment, you wonder if you're dreaming, if the alcohol is taking effect and conjuring up your desires right before you.

You notice the slight tremor in her hands, the way she’s standing—a bit too rigid, like she’s bracing for something tough.

Clearing your throat, you start to ask, “Would you like to come—”

“Is she here?” Leigh interrupts abruptly.

You blink in surprise.

“Who?”

“Sara,” Leigh replies, her chin jutting forward. She attempts to peer past you, as if she might find the answer somewhere inside your apartment.

“No, she's not,” you say slowly, puzzled and a bit annoyed by her tone. “Why would she be?”

You can't hide your surprise at her directness, or the discomfort it stirs in you. It's a bit ridiculous, even rude, how Leigh has been avoiding you, leaving your messages unread, and now she's here, asking you about another girl without a preamble. Leigh doesn't wait for an invitation; she brushes past you and steps further into your apartment, her eyes searching every corner of the room.

“I thought you said it didn't work out with Sara,” she says, almost accusingly, turning to face you again. The way she's acting—like she has any right to demand answers about your personal life after days of silence—is starting to grate on your nerves.

You press your lips together, taking a deep breath to quell your rising irritation.

“It didn’t. She brought a kitten to the clinic today, that’s all. We're not seeing each other, Leigh,” you tell her. Although she did tell me she’s interested in sleeping with me, you nearly say aloud.

Leigh’s mouth twists into a sneer. “Then why did Jules…” she trails off, her expression falling as it finally clicks.

Jules lied to her.

“Jules…?” you echo incredulously. “What did she tell you?”

Leigh's confidence wavers even further as she says, “She... she said she met Sara at your clinic. Called her your girlfriend.”

You shake your head, exasperation seeping through your features. “Sara is not my girlfriend,” you repeat firmly. The situation is quickly becoming absurd, and you decide to push a bit, to get to the heart of what's really bothering her. “But what does it matter to you if she was?”

“It doesn’t,” Leigh replies in a flat, unconvincing tone.

“Then what are you doing here?” you ask gently, as if addressing a child mid-tantrum.

Leigh doesn't answer right away, her cheeks glowing red as she looks anywhere but you. She's clearly embarrassed by the entire ordeal, and you find yourself struggling not to smile at the implications of her visit. She's bothered by the idea of you with Sara because—

“Leigh, are you jealous?” you ask, taking a deliberate step towards her. You hold her captive with your eyes, making it impossible for Leigh to look away.

“I’m with Danny.” Her voice cracks as she takes a step back.

“That’s not an answer,” you whisper softly, closing the distance between you once more.

“No, I... maybe. I don't know,” she stammers, then sighs deeply, her shoulders slumping as she finally meets your gaze. “Yes, I guess I am. I don't like thinking of you with someone else. Is that answer enough?”

As you take another step forward, Leigh instinctively moves back, and this dance continues until she finds herself against a wall. You're close now, close enough to feel the tension radiating from her. Her back is pressed against the concrete, your body just inches from hers, effectively trapping her in the corner.

Leigh doesn’t know at which point she’s closed her eyes. Was it when she felt your breath whisper across her upper lip as you sighed, clearly as affected by the proximity as she was? Or was it when her back met the cool wall, the hard reality telling her she had nowhere else to go? Perhaps it was simply the anticipation, the tightening expectation of your lips meeting hers, the thought of surrendering to this—whatever this is becoming between you.

But then, two seconds pass. Five. Ten. Nothing happens.

The anticipated kiss doesn’t come.

When she finally opens her eyes, the question in yours is unmistakable. You’re near enough, she could just lean in, but you’re giving her a choice, asking without words if this is what she wants. And that’s when she remembers how she ended up at your doorstep. Leigh's mind reels, darting back to Jules' little lie. She's struck by the realization that Jules probably felt compelled to lie because Leigh had been inadvertently pushing you away, leaving a door open for someone else to step in. And if she keeps this up, it might be Sara who ends up here, against your wall, in your arms. The image stabs at her heart, jealousy tightening her chest.

No, she can’t let that happen.

Summoning a courage she didn’t know she had left, Leigh reaches out and gently takes your hand. She brings it to her face, pressing her lips against your palm in a kiss so tender it steals your breath. It’s a silent plea. A tender claim.

It's just a small kiss, simple and soft, but it rushes through you like wildfire, stirring feelings deeper and more intense than any long, drawn-out foreplay ever did. You realize just how much you've been holding back, shielding yourself from potential pain. But now, as Leigh's kiss sears into your palm, all those defenses seem pointless. With a fervor driven by weeks of restrainment, you close the distance entirely.

Your kiss lands on Leigh's lips with everything you have, as if this moment, this single kiss, might be your only chance. Yet, even in your urgency, there's a tenderness, a reverence in the way your lips carefully slot between hers. As you kiss, there's a meticulous attention to the details—the softness of her lips, the way they fit perfectly against yours, the gentle give when you press a little harder. It’s as if you’re trying to memorize her through this kiss.

Leigh matches your ardor, her fingers weaving into your hair, tugging you closer as if she can't get enough. You react instinctively, your hands sliding from her hips to her waist, lifting her shirt just enough to feel her skin beneath your fingertips. The slight pressure of your nails makes Leigh gasp, a sound that breaks the seal of your lips just enough for you to deepen the kiss, slipping your tongue past her defenses. The act draws a guttural moan from her—a sound that vibrates through your core, sending ripples of desire pulsating through your body.

It shouldn’t be this perfect the first time, but it is.

The kiss grows wetter, more urgent. It's selfish, a relentless chase of sensation where both of you are simultaneously taking and giving everything you have, until it feels like there's nothing left to offer. While Leigh’s tongue explores every inch of your mouth, her hands find their way to either side of your neck, fingertips lightly grazing your skin, sending tingles straight down your spine. Your own hands aren't idle. They roam up her back, feeling the smooth expanse of her skin under your fingertips. As you slide your hands upward, you discover something that emits a low groan from you—she’s not wearing a bra. A part of you, the rational part that's still functioning, slowly begins to recognize the gravity of what’s unfolding. It's too easy to get lost in Leigh, in the rush and the heat, but something stops you. You want this—more than anything in the moment—but it has to mean something. Because once you cross this line with Leigh, there's no going back to the uninhibited, distant longing you've managed until now.

Just as the thought crystallizes, Leigh breaks the kiss with a wet pop. Her eyes flutter open, slowly, lazily. Her gaze is unfocused at first, pupils dilated, the vibrant green of her irises almost swallowed by the black. Oh, she definitely wants you too.

“Why did you stop?” you murmur, your voice unmistakably laden with desire as you rest your forehead against hers.

A grin tugs at Leigh’s lips as replies softly, “I just wanted to see you.”

Your smile widens as her fingers absentmindedly play with the little hairs at the nape of your neck. She seems mesmerized by your eyes, now darkened with lust, and without thinking, she blurts out, “You really do have espresso eyes.”

Her words make you freeze in her arms. That nickname—it's the same one you use anonymously for your submissions to your favorite advice column. Maybe it's just a coincidence, right?

But Leigh's reaction a moment later suggests otherwise. Her face blanches, eyes widening in a sudden flare of panic as she realizes what she's just said.

“Y/N—” Leigh starts but you cut her off by stepping out of her embrace, your stance becoming guarded.

The warmth vanishes from your eyes. “What did you just say?”

#unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x female reader #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss au #leigh shaw x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #sorry i had to tag wanda x reader for visibility

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i23kazu · 1 year ago

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SLEEPY PAPA CUDDLES

characters. neuvillette x gn!reader genre. domestic romantic fluff. an. MORE melusine daddy content. please send help guys i literally cannot stop making daddy neuvi content | please reblog!! im getting back into writing and reblogs with tags and comments will make me want to write more :D

on the days when some of the melusine get sick, neuvillette wishes he could stay home.

the heartbroken wails of his sick littlest ones pierce his heart – but as chief justice, he rarely gets to take the day off. even after scouring the pages of the fontainian law books, he finds nothing that allows him to take parental leave because his child is sick... because you're a stay at home parent.

(therefore, the responsibility falls onto you to take care of the little ones, as much as neuvillette would like to share it with you.)

early in the morning, you feel some sort of movement within your bed... you sleepily turn to look at neuvillette getting up and walking to your littlest's room.

"it's alright, ma trésor... papa's here." you can hear him attempting to soothe little puca.

puca's cries resound through the halls of the house, neuvillette's quiet shh-shhs soon following. it's not long til you hear the sobs that turn to whimpers, a sweet picture of puca laying her head on your husband's shoulder forming.

it doesn't get better when everyone is awake. iara, puca, and mela are all now down with the same cold puca cried her little lungs out for last night, and all three sweethearts sniffle at the dining table, hot soup freshly ladled out in front of them.

"papa, don't go! please?" iara cries, tugging on neuvillette's sleeve. justice has no time left to waste, and neither does your husband.

"i'm sorry, ma petit ange, but i have to go to work," neuvillette responds remorsefully, picking up iara and placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"but i don't want you to go! stay home! i want to stay with you!" iara wails, burying her head in neuvillette's shoulder. he begins to bounce her gently on his hip.

"i'll see all of you tonight, ma chérie. alright? i'll come back early today."

at last, little iara's hands seem to finally let go of neuvillette's shirt, her sobs still wracking her frame.

"come here, sweet girl," you gently hug her from behind, gathering the little melusine in your arms. iara bursts into wails once she hugs you tightly, heart broken over feeling sick and having to say goodbye to papa.

you distract the children while neuvillette slips away to work, undetected. the rest of the day goes somewhat smoothly, with the older ones helping out around the house while the younger ones rest in bed.

by the time the clock says that papa was about to come home, all of the little melusines that lived in your household were all fast asleep, hands softly tucked under the covers.

"i'm home-" neuvillette walks in, setting his work bag down. why was it so quiet? a typical day included a chorus of "welcome home, papa!" and the pitter-pattering of melusine feet padding to the doorway.

"mon cœur! please, calme– i just got the bébés to take a nap," you shush him, cracking open the door to the melusine's room, just a touch.

neuvillette wants to laugh. never in his... centuries? eons? of life, did he ever think he would have evolved to be a man of domesticity.

i know nothing of french all of this was google

reblogs w/ tags & comments appreciated !!!

taglist: @tiredsleep @loptido @raincxtter @chichikoi @ladyadii @soulsanta @sheiiths @genshinparty @eowinthetraveler @moonbyunniee @legitnoi @lemontum @manager-of-the-pudding-bank @starz222 @ilyuu @cherry-colored-petals @mondaymelon @tartaglia-apologist @soleillunne @softcosmixs @m1shapanda @aimynx @smokipoki @aqualesha (send ask to be added to taglist)

#[📝 stewardess' notepad!]#astronetwrk #genshin x reader #neuvillette x reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin impact x gn reader #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x gn reader #genshin fluff #neuvillette fluff #genshin x reader sfw #neuvillette x reader sfw #melusines #genshin melusines #dad!neuvillette #found family

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tranceindia123 · 1 year ago

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blood-smiles · 2 months ago

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@missjenniferhardy hey there!! Sorry I couldn’t get back to you asap, my brain thought up something, I’m sorry if it seems messy but I wrote this while I was woozy 😵‍💫

🌶️ UNDER THE CUT!!

Alejandro had long discarded his wife, he wished he could say that he had gotten rid of her completely but still he would find small cameras around his home, hidden in places no one would even think to check,

It seemed like not even a divorce could send Ume away, maybe the next step was to take matters into his own hands and execute some more.. Extreme procedures.

On the bright side of things he had finally started a relationship with his darling! He had longed for domesticity with you for so long.. He decided to take a leave from the office and stay home to make sure everything was to perfection!

..Today you had work, he begged and pleaded for you to stay home with him and that he would pay for all you needed and wanted, but when he said that you just gave him the sweetest puppy eyes—

And so he relented to your request, leaving him home alone for a few hours, he found solace in doing acts of service for you,

He knew that you enjoyed finding water by your bed, he knew exactly how much spice or salt you enjoyed in your food, what exact temperature you bathed in and actually enjoyed, he knew how and which way you liked your clothes ironed— He was a natural at this house husband thing, a bonus was that he enjoyed it!

But he was awfully missing you.. He looked out the window, bouncing his leg anxiously, waiting. Yearning for you to come home.

He waited a while, but after seeing that you weren’t coming home just yet he decided to occupy himself with something else!

Like cleaning!

He cleared everything off the dining hall table, bending over the long furniture to dust everything off,

He stopped for a moment, a dirty thought snaking into his brain as he bent over the table.. What if you were here? Would you hit from behind..?

He didn’t want to force you into anything like Ume, he was going to initiate intimacy with you only if you approved of it and actually wanted it, he loved you too much, he would never forgive a single soul if he let anyone (including himself) take advantage of your kind heart.

He rested his hands on the smooth wooden banquet table, your hands have touched this table.. You had blessed it with your touch..

He couldn’t help but sit in top of the refectory furniture, leaning his face to rest on the cool surface of the table, his back arched and ass in the air,

He panted as his hands slowly rubbed down his body, gripping his chest and sliding down to his waist,

He didn’t know when it happened but his clothes had been discarded and gathered on the clean carpet,

His nude body exposed to the biting cold air in the room, his hips gently bucked against the table, smearing clear slime on the once pristine table,

He shuddered at the contrasting cold against his burning hot erection, his hands groped his own chest, fingers squeezing his sensitive nipples,

Tears gathered in his eyes from the mix of searing pain and overbearing pleasure, he had a few clothespins earlier.. Maybe those could make do for some clamps,

His manor was far off, acres away from other mansions, so he could let the windows uncovered and no one would see him,

Unfiltered sun rays bled into the dining hall, covering Alejandro in a golden lighting, his soft skin sheening with sweat,

His legs spread as his slim fingers entered his eager hole, finger pads prodded inside his gummy walls, lewd squelching sounds loud and clear,

He moaned loudly, if the house wasn’t vacant and actually had any habitants, he would be sure everyone would hear his sounds,

He imagined that instead of his own fingers they would be yours, kissing his prostate with the tips when you flexed your joints,

“Mmmmghh!” His back arched lifting itself from the cold table,

Not fair, it was not fair, this wasn’t enough, he hated it, why wouldn’t his fingers please him as well as you did?

He wanted you, he needed you inside him, thrusting into him so hard that his guts would remember the shape of your fingers, so hard that you could re-arrange his insides,

He bit his lips, hard. Small droplets of scarlet dying the inside of his mouth red, the same liquid starting to drip down his chin,

Then he came, unsatisfyingly so, it was the most unpleasant orgasm he has ever experienced, it was always like this when you were away.. Only you were able to trigger pleasure in him,

Warm cum dirtied his lower stomach, he was still twitching and having spasms in his body, his hands shook as he brought his digits into his mouth, his tongue lapping up his own juices greedily,

He missed you, he missed you so so much..

He whined as he cleaned up his mess, getting off the table slowly, his legs still trembling from his recent high,

He slowly dragged himself to the living room, holding onto the walls and door ways,

He took in every single detail of the living room, book cases, small coffee tables, your chair— wait.. Your chair!

He limped towards the stuffed furniture, his erection coming back quickly and painfully, he breathed out small puffs of air,

He stumbled onto his knees, gently gripping the armrest of the small cushions, his nails dug into the soft material as he hoisted himself up,

Sitting on the armrest, the rough texture of the couch like chair being pleasurably painful against the tip of his cock,

He lazily grinder against the cushion, being careful not to hurt himself with the chair’s uncomfortable material,

He would hump your lap like a desperate dog, nothing but praises and thankful mutters being audible, his mind could only come up with images of your face and how your hands would rest on his hips so perfectly, scratching at the protruding bones of his iliac crest,

The intensity of speed drastically increased as he chased his high, his teeth chipping at the scab forming on his lip from earlier,

“Ah!— Ah! Aaa~”

He gasped and whimpered as he came for a second time, this time around being slightly better than the last,

He had scraped the scab off his lip, fresh stream of blood painting his lips a bright rouge, only if you were there you could lick his blood off his lips..

He stared at the floor, it had been a few hours.. four? Maybe five.. He can’t tell, he has no idea how he made it this long without you, well— without you physically, because you were always in his brain,

It was like you had your own section of brain in his head, always chipping away at his thoughts, not that he cared or was bothered by it.

He didn’t know what else’s to do when you weren’t home, his world revolved around you, he had been wandering around his whole life- Until he found you.

He found his clothes and slowly put them on, maybe making dinner would help him distract himself from the void in his chest,

He finished chopping the vegetables, gently sliding the knife into the knife block again,

He cherishes that specific knife, it was the first thing that made him snap, or like he preferred to call it, a wake up call, it was what helped him realize that Ume would never satisfy him,

He took extra care of that knife.

He walked up the steps of the stair case, his hand smoothing over the wooden railing, he had debated a few times to push Ume over that same railing, he could have said that it was an accident and that she snapped her neck because of the fall,

He chuckled darkly at the image of her neck twisted into an unnatural position, her eyes wide and full of one emotion, betrayal.

He sighed happily at the idea of murdering her, maybe one day, he wouldn’t want you to find out about his homicidal thoughts, you would become scared of him if you were aware of what truly went on inside his head when he wasn’t thinking of you.

You exhaled tiredly, knocking on the large front door a few times, you tapped your shoe against the stone floor as you waited for the door to open and for your lovely boyfriend to greet you,

You waited and waited, soon coming to a realization that no one would come,

Your heart squeezed in worry and doubt, had something happened and Alejandro was hurt?

You started to panic, shoving your hand into your messenger bag you dug around in the contents, trying to feel for your keys,

You put the key in the lock and twisted it frantically, pushing the door open you walked into the first place you thought he could be in,

The kitchen.

You left your things hung on a hook as you kicked off your shoes and started running towards the kitchen, stopping at the diner table when you saw that it was vacant,

As soon as your hand landed on the wood you touched something wet, you flinched at the strange sensation and instinctively stuck your hand to your side,

You pressed your fingers together then proceeded to separate them, what seemed to be clear slime lathered the tips of your fingers, a thin string connecting the viscous substance,

You raised a brow at it and cleaned it up with a napkin, throwing it away before starting to venture throughout the manor,

You ran through the house, seeing that Alejandro wasn’t in any of the rooms on the first floor, you had begun to worry, had he gone out and didn’t tell you?

You rushed up the stairs, missing a step and almost bashing your head into the wood, you got up from your knees and made your way up the stairs,

You reached the top of the stair case, holding the railing you couldn’t help but look down, your stomach doing a barrel roll inside your body,

You blinked a few times, trying to focus yourself on your actual goal, finding where Alejandro was.

You walked into the first room you saw, being your shared bedroom, your hand rested on the door knob,

Just as you were about to twist the metal you could hear muffled buzzing from the inside of the room, the bed creaking inside the room.

What the hell is going on?

You opened the door expecting the worst, your eyes widened as you finally found your boyfriend, a flush spreading across your face, heat burning up your cheeks and ears,

Alejandro sat on the bed, sprawled prettily over the messy sheets, a wet spot forming under him, you could see the slick that clung onto his thighs, his cheeks heated, rivaling the reddest of roses,

His sharp eyes looked crazed, gazing lovingly at you from under his long eyelashes, he looked so perfect, even while being disheveled and sweaty he still looked unreal, his long dark lavender hair shining under the setting sun,

Your eyes just had to wander down further, your eyes widened further at what he was wearing, red lingerie—Female lingerie,

the lace barely covered anything up, leaving most of his body to little to no imagination, Alejandro was slim and tall, yet he looked so good.. Your mouth hung ajar as you stared at him, your suit case thumped against the ground as your fingers unfurled from the handle,

The bralette highlighted the slight curve of his chest perfectly, the metal armature wires helping his tits seem rounder and fuller,

Your mouth watered at the thought of fondling and sucking on them, you pulled at your collar shyly when he noticed your gaze, his hand slowly pulled the bralette down, giving you a full view of his chest, his nipples were perky and swollen, you could tell he was touching himself.

You had come to see that red really was his color.

The buzzing had been blocked out completely by how distracted you had been, you kept looking farther down.. Are those red lace Panties? Where did he get that?

the buzzing was coming from a vibrator pressed against his crotch, again, where did he get that?

“Love.. Join me-Hngh! Wi-Will you?~” he opened his legs for you, welcoming you into the bed and into his legs,

He took off the red undergarments painfully slow, teasing you so cruelly,

you didn’t know when, but your body acted in its own, and you found yourself eating him out like he was your last meal.

It seems that the lingerie Ume left behind suites him better than it ever suited her,

Alejandro couldn’t even think, his brain was overloaded with you, he couldn’t think anything else more but that he loved you, he wanted to be consumed by you,

The next morning his voice was hoarse and strained, he didn’t know that making llover with you would feel so good.

He gently put a cover over your form, his eyes soft and caring, he kissed your lips gently, swiping his tongue over your lips, he laughed softly, not even bothering to cover the maniac undertones to his laughter,

Everything is perfect, he loves you and you love him, he may love you too much to be normal, but he never felt love until you arrived,

And no one would take you away from him now.♡

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere male #smilesyanderes #alejandroposting #dom gn reader #male yandere #dom fem reader

245 notes · View notes

mikiruie · 3 months ago

Text

𓈒⠀⠀⠀⠀︵︵ ⠀◟ † ◞ ⠀︵︵ㅤ⠀⠀⠀⠀𓈒 ⠀

THROUGH THE WIND AND RAIN . . .

── TOBIO KAGEYAMA ﹕ 影山飛雄 ┊͙ HAIKYUU!! ◝✩

𓋜 hq. masterlist // general masterlist.

premise. even while seperated by thousands of miles of stretching oceans— there is solace in the rain’s shared song.

content. fiancé!kageyama / f!reader. fluff. established relationship (engaged). LDR + ali roma!kageyama (reader lives in japan, ≠ being japanese). lovesick!tobio :3 !!

word count. 7.6k

soundtrack. absence of you : grentperez.

écoute chérie! ᰔ this fic ended up being a lot longer than i intended . . . anyways !! first fic on this bloggie yayy ‹𝟹

22:58

“Is it also raining over there?”

Your head turns away from your open laptop screen and towards the windows of your apartment, watching as the trickling rain pours down outside your house.

With the curtains drawn open, you have a perfect view of the cars that pass by— watching and listening as their tires splash through the puddles of water that have formed on the street’s open roads, hearing light taps against your windows as streams of droplets hit the streaked, rain frosted glass.

You hear the faint tinkling of showering water vaguely in the background of Tobio’s call too, and your head tilts obviously at the sound, something that your fiancé manages to pick up with ease as he looks behind him towards where you’re staring out at his dark balcony’s windows.

“Oh,” he murmurs lightly, turning back around to face you (or more accurately, his phone screen that has you on it). “It’s raining here too— in Italy, I mean.”

Tobio’s shakily-hand held phone camera soon leaves the dining table it was propped up on, the front view getting covered by the palm of his hand as he makes his way across his living room and over to his balcony, the curtains closed and sliding door locked.

“I don’t know if you can see it that well,” he mumbles. The door to the outside deck unlocks with a light click as he steps outside, slippers padding softly against the smooth stone flooring of his apartment once he crosses over the lip of the door’s frame and onto the balcony. “But it’s pretty heavy over here.”

He flips the camera around, holding the phone up and moving the curtains out of view to show you the rain outside his own home, and just like he mentioned it’s much harsher than your rain back in Japan.

Against the reflective light of the moon in Rome’s night sky is a cascade of water that bombards you from all sides, droplets heavier than the rain you have back in Japan, hitting the cobblestone walkways outside of Tobio’s house with a resounding echo.

The rain falls at a much, much faster pace too as it almost seems never ending, the millions of raindrops bouncing off one another nearly blending into the sound of a single mass against the inky backdrop of the night sky— like a wind chime.

It’s a full moon tonight you realize as Tobio slowly maneuvers his phone around for your convenience, showcasing not only the torrent of rain that blinds his frosted windows but also the surrounding cityscape of his apartment.

You’ve only ever seen it in the daytime through brief glimpses during your facetime calls, but now without the sun and brilliant blue skies as its backdrop it looks completely different, dipped and steeped in a vat of red wine with only the moon and the street lamps to light the way.

You find that by craning your head just a bit to the sides that the raindrops have a special sheen to them, almost holographic in their nature. Single masses that have no one colour to them in their true nature, shimmering with a mirage of light in the afterglow of Rome’s street lamps.

Fractals of tiny rainbows burst at the sides of the water’s tension, and each droplet magnifying the light of the moon and lamps tenfold, merging into what seems to become a single stream of glimmering gold.

Perhaps it’s just a trick of the barely visible light light, or maybe something to do with the fact you’re on a crinkly video call— but the shifting perspective of the iridescent water droplets glowing in tune with the speckles of centuries old stars in Rome’s barely lit skyline is incredible to witness up close, and you’re almost jealous that this is the sight that Tobio gets to fall asleep to just outside his window every night.

The rain pour oddly likens to the same scene you’d get if you took a quaint little snow globe and shook it around vigorously in the palm of your hands, watching as the faux snowflakes inside swirl and whoosh around in the glass dome before falling slowly back down to the base of the globe, the flurry of white snow reminding you of the rain drops you’re bewitched by.

You look down at the engagement ring that sits on your finger, given to you by Tobio two years prior. Smoothing your thumb over the ornately cut princess-styled gemstone on the gold band, you realize it also bares a striking resemblance to the tiny raindrops just outside both of your windows.

Like a little piece of the quiet scenery you get to both wear together, even when far apart— and the constant downpour of rain on both ends of the call may be a reminder of that fact.

Tobio eventually shuts the door with a shiver running up his spine, bringing you out of your thoughts as he steps back inside his apartment.

“Sorry,” he apologizes quickly, breaking the silence. His eyes flit back to the now closed glass door, gaze lingering as the camera slowly begins to walk away from the view— you wonder if he was also admiring the rain shower along with you.

“It just gets kind of cold having it open when it rains.”

“It’s okay,” you smile, still mindlessly fidgeting with your ring. It fits much better on your finger now than before, courtesy of your fiancé having it re-sized for you when you last visited. It’s no longer constricting to wear, yet still loose enough for you to twirl around for fun.

A part of you thinks that Tobio ensured that for you unknowingly.

“We wouldn’t want you to get sick now during the season, would we?”

With a laugh muffled behind pursed lips he sits back down at his small dining table again, the feet of his chair scratching against the hardwood flooring when he scoots the chair in forward, carefully propping his phone upright against his napkin holder. “Y’know, I wasn’t prepared for Rome’s weather at all when I came here.”

“The weather here is a lot more turbulent than in Japan,” as if to perpetuate his point further, the rain in the background seems to pick up speed, the faint tapping against his window from the droplets now turning into more thunderous thumps.

Amused, you shift up against the pillows of your bed, adjusting your laptop sat atop your blanket. Tobio’s lips unknowingly jutt out into a pout seeing you all warm and cozy in bed without him, though if he were to do the same right now he’d probably pass out in the confines of his sheets while still on call with you.

It’s one of the reasons he’s calling from his dining room table and not situated nicely inside the cocoon of his freshly washed bedsheets.

Although tempting, Tobio wants to make sure he gives you his full attention whenever you both call, considering both of your busy schedules and the time zone differences between the two countries you currently occupy makes it hard to coordinate a set time to call each day, and ultimately your lifestyles can’t afford daily calls much to both of your chargins.

It usually boils down to ‘literally whenever we are both free,’ though he admits it’s not nearly as often as he’d like it to be.

Free can mean many things, and unfortunately for Tobio you refuse to call him while you’re in the shower (he doesn’t understand that one, he’s seen all of you and then some anyway), or while grocery shopping (something about you needing full concentration to select the perfect box of plump, sweet strawberries, whatever that means.

Strawberries are strawberries, no?)

“Well how are you holding up over there?” A playful grin slowly spreads across your face as you mess around with the facetime filters, giving Tobio a few silly cat ears and a tail as you sift through the available options.

Your finger drags along the trackpad of your laptop as you doodle away funny little shapes and swirls beside Tobio, giving him a bright red clown nose and some pink cheeks for funsies while he in your mind remains oblivious to your actions.

You let out a quiet giggle to yourself when his facetime background changes from the interior of his Rome apartment to a poorly edited in beach scene ripped straight from Google images, complete with his own coconut drink and a straw on your end of the call.

Tobio’s lips curl in on themselves, his teeth biting at the lower one as if he’s containing a smile of his own while you hum delightfully in idle tranquility, seemingly unaware of his gaze on you.

You’re acutely conscious of it though from the way his head dips down, using his bangs to mask the barely passable snicker he disguises as a poorly trained cough before regaining his posture, a gesture he inherited from his sister.

“Is it hard living by yourself? Living without me?”

Tobio’s shoulders lift in a mild shrug, and the green screened background near his back and arms glitches whenever he makes even the slightest movement. “I wouldn’t say that,” he jokes, stretching up against the backrest of his chair, muscles still sore from his practice matches earlier in the day.

A whine escapes past your pouted lips at his quip as you jeer back to him. “You’re making me feel sad now! Next time I’m not going to pick up your call no matter how many times you spam text me.”

“Hey, hey hey now . . .” His camera suddenly falters, stumbling in on itself from how hard he jerks his dinner table in shock before falling flat on its face, your inexplicable laughter ringing through loudly from the phone’s speakers and into his ears as Tobio props the device back up, fingers covering the camera momentarily before it eventually stabilizes again.

Now it’s his turn to sulk, the corners of his mouth visibly drooping into a slight frown as you continue to chuckle at his misfortune. If he dipped his head any lower, you’d be able to see his blush along the curve of his neck.

“That wasn’t very nice, love” he grumbles, slumping back down into his chair as you smugly hum in response. “Well you’re not being the sweetest either right now, Tobio.”

“Fine,” he sighs, crossing his arms. The loose home shirt he wears flexes with each movement he makes, “I’m sorry— will you still call me tomorrow?”

“Of course,” relief flashes in his eyes for a split second as his chest rises and falls with each breath, “Did you think I was actually not going to pick up?”

“. . . Only a little.”

“I would never do that to you,” Your tongue blips out to him on camera, all pixelated as a small clump of red dots inside his phone’s screen and Tobio can’t help but hide his bashful smile behind his hands again at your cheekiness. “How could I say no to your face?”

“You just did nearly two minutes ago.”

“Well that was two minutes ago!”

The both of you fall into another cesspool of bubbly giggles as you bicker back and forth with one another, your voices accompanied and carried across the oceans with the help of the rain in the background. The white noise drowns out the rest of the world, allowing the two of you to focus solely on one another’s prescience in the few hours you have together in comfortable solitude.

Tobio tells you everything during his calls— and you really do mean everything. He lets you know of every brand deal he’s received, how he figured out that he was putting weight on the wrong part of his foot whenever he dug a ball and now his receives are getting much better now (you can hardly believe that he thinks there’s still even more to himself that he can find improve upon) and the mundane details of his day to day life in Rome as well too.

He told you a few days ago through text that it’s currently raspberry season in Italy which starts in May, the miscellaneous message soon accompanied by a cute photo of him and his teammates out raspberry picking in a large farmer’s field in the countryside of Rome as a team bonding exercise.

You saved the adorable sight almost immediately into your photo album, sometimes finding yourself opening your phone several times throughout the day just to peek at it again whenever you missed his presence.

Now instead of the baseball cap and wicker basket he carried with him in the photo earlier in the week, he sits in front of your laptop screen, fingers reaching below the camera for a moment before coming back up to pop something into his mouth.

Your head cranes a little to the right instinctually, trying to catch a glimpse at what he’s eating before realizing you can’t actually do that over facetime.

“What’re you eating?”

“Raspberries,” he mumbles through a mouthful of them, taking his phone and showing you the inside of the bowl in his hands, light blue on the outside and white in its interior that’s filled to the brim with the fruits. “Ushijima-san told me they’re high in fiber, vitamin C and K.”

You’re reminded of the photo he sent you a few days prior, giggling to yourself in giddy happiness at the fact that he must be eating the fruits he picked with his teammates. “Y’know you can also eat them just because they’re tasty, right Tobio?”

He pops another one into his mouth, cheeks puffing out on the right side like a chipmunk as he chews. “Well, that too is a plus.”

Tobio’s bowl is nearly filled to the brim of the fruits, a hefty serving you presume for a seemingly late night snack for the star athlete. You question his unusual timing since the Tobio you know is all about order in his regimen when it comes to maintaining his healthy figure for volleyball.

“I wanted to feel like I’m eating with you,” he timidly admits when asked, and you tease his sincerity before an idea comes to mind, your fiancé’s head cocking to the side once he sees you leap out of bed in a hurry.

“Wait a second, stay right there!” You shout to him before your body quickly leaves the frame of your laptop screen, leaving Tobio in a stunned silence as he attempts to call back out to you, the padding of your footsteps against the floorboards of your home soon disappearing along with your figure too.

“I’m not going anywhere, babe—” he mutters to himself, squinting at his phone screen as he tries to figure out where you scurried off to. The door to your room is left slightly ajar, but the darkness of your hallway shrouds the rest of your household in his sights.

His eyes take a preliminary glance around your room to fulfill your absence in stead, his view confined to the singular angle your laptop can show him from on your bed as he attempts to scour the small window space he can, checking and noticing for the subtle changes you’ve made after your recent weekly room clean up.

Tobio finds that you swapped out your old floor length mirror for a new one, since the old one had a crack in it after it unfortunately fell during one of your last facetime calls.

He takes note of the many papers that pile on top of one another on your work desk, and his brows furrow at the sight. He hates to think of how easily it could be for you to slip into accidentally overworking yourself now that he’s not around to reprimand you, though he’s not one to talk about maintaining a healthy work-life balance either with volleyball.

Tobio’s gaze soon drifts away from the seemingly massive mound of manila folders and printer paper before stopping momentarily. His eyes glance downwards, a wicker basket woven flower pot caught in his sights, before crawling back up again.

There, sitting on your desk right beside your printer is a familiar looking potted plant; its white petals shimmer beautifully underneath the glow produced by your room’s ceiling fan’s cheap LED light bulb, the golden spun colour of the flower’s bulbs emerging from inside the core atop their green stems.

Three heads of pretty, flowered plants are neatly laid in the small bed of soil in the pot, the dirt dark in colour as the flower’s roots soak in the hydration-rich nutrients from the loam.

Tobio recognizes the species immediately, drinking in its innocuous appearance in your room— the Madonna Lily. Italy’s national flower.

He coughs up his raspberries in a fit of momentary shock, reveling in the discovery as he shoves his phone closer to his eyes to inspect it further. The plant seems well taken care of, blooming well even in a confined office-bedroom space. A small spritzer bottle filled halfway to the top with water sits just beside the stunning flower, meaning you probably had watered it not long ago before your call with him.

Its leaves are vibrant and healthy, and the blossoms open up to the ceiling, revealing their bright golden bulbs from inside.

Tobio’s seen and been given many a white lily in his time playing for Ali Roma, he can barely keep track of the massive bouquets he receives from sponsors and fans at every game with the gorgeous flower, all beautifully tied together with long satin bows accented in the colours of white, orange and green for his beloved team within the confines of clear, wrinkle-less cellophane.

But the lone pot in your room calls out to him especially, it’s beauty and obvious care and attention gone into helping it flourish outshining even the most spectacular of floral arrangements he’s ever been given.

He’s heard from a few of his native Italian teammates that the white lilies of Italy symbolize rebirth and are frequently associated with the rejuvenation of the soul— but they also resemble both everlasting purity and commitment.

And if Tobio had to describe you in two words of his own, he’d pick those qualities of the stunning lily to do so.

A few beats of silence pass of him admiring the quiet entity of life before he hears your rapidly approaching footsteps again, jerking his head away from his phone screen and sadly having to tear his eyes from the plant as the door to your bedroom swings wide open, revealing your pajama-clad self once more as leap back onto your bed, a big bowl with the same familiar fruit he was just snacking on sat in the lap of your legs, the traces of water on your just-washed hands bringing heat to Tobio’s cheeks.

“What’re you doing?”

You hum mindlessly as you fluff up the pillow behind your back for a moment before turning back to him and beaming.

“I’m going to feed you raspberries through the screen,” You take one of the nice big ones for Tobio out of the bowl and show it to your camera, letting your fiancé see the fruit from all angles. It’s plump and juicy, and the nice red colour to it and size is deserving for Tobio, you bet it’s as sweet as him.

You still feel the leftover water residue on the fruit’s surface from when you washed them underneath the pads of your fingertips as you steady the bowl and lower it down to Tobio’s mouth on your screen.

“Say ahhh!”

Even while within the confines of his own home, a blush spreads across the expanse of Tobio’s neck and the apples of his cheeks at your actions, shyly opening his mouth for the camera, head pivoting around his dining room like he’s worried some paparazzi is going to catch him being all cute and sappy.

He straightens up when your hand suddenly retracts from the camera’s view, taking with it the raspberry as your saddened face takes center stage on his phone screen.

Tobio’s eyebrows cinch together worriedly, confused at the sudden change in demeanour. “Why’d you stop, love?”

You huff, cheeks puffing out in an adorable show of stubbornness. Tobio wishes he was there to pinch them in person, and he refrains from reaching out and doing it himself.

“You’re not saying ahhh!”

He sputters a bit on his end of the call, scarlet blush spreading to the tips of his ears. “Do I have to . . .”

“Yes, it’s part of the experience!” You make a point to pick up another juicy raspberry for yourself from your bowl, saving the one previously meant for Tobio and popping it into your mouth, audibly singing in delightful praise at its taste.

“Now open wide, Tobio! Say ahhh~”

The adam’s apple of Tobio’s throat bobs in your peripheral as you lift the same raspberry from earlier up to your camera again, slowing inching to where Tobio’s mouth is hung open on your laptop screen before he closes around the berry, pretending to chew and savor it’s taste as you gleefully giggle at the sight of the ever blossoming red that crawls down his neck and all across the top half of his chest visible through the cut outs of his home shirt.

“It’s yummy,” you hear him whisper, voice low and intimate in the tranquility that lies between you two, feeling separated only by a flimsy screen and not by several countries.

He can taste the tangy sweetness from his raspberries previously still left on the tip of his tongue, though he likes to imagine that it’s left behind from the digital raspberry you shared with him just now.

His tongue darts out to lick his lips subconsciously, swiping across the bottom lip to capture any lingering flavors of the fruit remaining. “I did tell you awhile ago that the raspberries are in season this time of year, right?”

“Yep!” You pop the ‘p’ in your sentence with a giggle, “Don’t you remember the photo you sent me? Of you and your teammates out raspberry picking!”

His eyes roll to the ceiling of his apartment in thought as he recalls the last few days, thought bubbles metaphorically popping up above his head before he lets out a noise of confirmation. “Oh, yeah I did send you that. I’m surprised you remember.”

“You only sent it like, four days ago Tobio.”

He shrugs it off easily, ignoring the pale blush that dusts his nose and cheek bones that you had recalled that photo he sent you on a whim as an update to his life in Italy, and he takes another raspberry out from his bowl, letting the sourish-with a tinge of sweetness flavour of the fruit pop in his mouth once he bites down on the morsel.

The two of sit in comfortable silence as you pretend-feed each other raspberries, with you “feeding” Tobio most of yours and he reciprocates whenever you give him one.

“It’s so we’re even,” he digresses afterwards, and while you eventually do feast the raspberries you hand to Tobio through the scrithy facetime call screen, Tobio saves the ones he feeds you on his end of the line— placing them back into his bowl after you fake swallow the fruit, letting it fall back into his bowl and choosing a different fruit of his own to bring to his lips.

In his mind those berries are specially reserved for you only, and even if you can’t eat them yourself, Tobio doesn’t feel it right to eat them.

The freshness of the raspberries on your tongue sweetens your video call with Tobio just a little more when it seems as the sounds on both your ends heighten frighteningly, the quality of your screen becoming diluted as time rolls on through the thunderous booms that peer outside your windowsill.

Rain hurls down from the sky, blanketing both your hometown and the capital of Italy in its wake, but it’s Tobio it feels as though you’ve both made a small little space for yourselves to shield each other from the storm.

“I saw you on the news again today,” you hum contently as the two of you snack on your raspberries against the backdrop of rain on both your calls, Tobio’s being obviously louder as the storm outside continues to grow more tumultuous the longer your call stretches on for.

This is probably one of your longest video calls together so far, almost reaching three and a half hours when you check the time at the top of your laptop. It’s a surprise that your dingy cell service has managed to hold on for this long in the weather’s conditions.

“They were talking about how your contract with Ali Roma is ending soon, and speculating when or if you’ll renew it.”

Tobio freezes up when you mention the news broadcast, almost scared of speaking up with his throat feeling tight, mouth running dry as he stiffens up his posture. A distinctive trait of his you notice when he’s nervous. “Yeah . . . yeah I’ve been hearing about that too.”

“I mean, it is about you,” you chuckle to yourself, a bit too causally compared to how Tobio feels inside. “So! Have you decided if you’ll stay there for another term?”

“It depends,” he swallows down his worries, eventually gathering the courage to ask “will you be upset if I do?”, hesitance laced in the throes of his words as he waits for your reply in skittish tensity.

It’s been hard for Tobio to dance around the subject ever since news broke out, and everytime he calls he’s unsure how to bring it up.

Ali Roma has helped in advancing his career tremendously, and he’d love to keep moving up the ranks and continue playing on the world stage alongside his teammates— but then there’s you, across the sea waiting for him at home. Cheering him on from not the stands of an Italian stadium but on the couch in your shared home in another country, rooting and whooping at a TV screen whenever he’s up to serve.

He’s been telling his social media managers to try and quell the spread of rumors before he decided on accepting another contract term, scared of you finding out and expressing your displeasure about the renewal before he had a chance to talk it out with you.

Despite Tobio’s endless passion and drive for volleyball, he knew that his heart belonged with you— and he wanted to ask how you felt about the decision before he had the final say.

It’s been nearly three years since he asked you the fateful question of if you’d take his hand in marriage.

He still remembers the way he almost foolishly dropped the ring when he got down on one knee, clumsily taking the box out of his suit jacket’s pocket and hastily recited the lines he had practiced for over a month about your importance in his life and how grateful he would be to marry you— and the way you graciously accepted him with open arms before he was even done speaking.

He also can recall clearly how you nearly knocked him over onto the ground by the sheer force of your glee alone, too enraptured by the high of the moment to notice you had basically caged him in your arms on the dirt trail of your home town’s park.

And while you’re as sweet, loving and as patient as a person can ever be, what with letting him play overseas and all (you’re a literal angel in Tobio’s eyes), Tobio knows that with time, patience can be worn down like running water in a riverbank, smoothing over the stones and pebbles that have sunk to the bottom.

It erodes away the longer you stretch it thin, and your three year engagement anniversary is coming up soon, and yet he’s not there with you. Instead, he’s in Italy, furthering his goals while you’re home, hard at work on your own he knows but he fears that his constant absence has taken a heavy toll on your heart.

He wonders if you’ve grown restless of waiting for your fiancé to come back to your awaiting arms, and if you’re just too nice to admit your frustrations to him directly whenever you call.

And the thought of that worries him. You’ve always been the one in the relation to anchor Tobio’s incessant and seemingly never ending worrying, being the stability he needs when his insecurities overshadow his rational thinking, and it’s more often than not that you’re practically the one holding him together better than himself whenever he’s overseas.

(it’s embarrassing to admit himself how much of a driving force you are in his life.

The gentle guiding light he needs when he goes tunnel vision and can’t see straight or think clearly).

It was you after all who suggested he take the leap of faith to move to Rome and play for Italy, you who gave him the push of encouragement he needed to further his career even when it seemed to go against your own best interests.

And while you’ve reassured him several times over that the length of his stay in Italy and your prolonged engagement means absolutely nothing to you, Tobio worries that soon, you’ll become tired of waiting for a day that will potentially never come.

His greatest wish is to marry you proudly in front of all your family and friends, to entangle your paths forever with each other while you exchange vows written for one another underneath a pretty white arch— and how is he supposed to do that when he’s thousands of kilometers away from you across the sea?

“Hm? No, of course not,” Your airy voice cuts through the rapidly growing thoughts in his head, head tilting on his phone’s screen. Your brow raises slightly as you question him. “Why do you ask?”

“Did you think I was going to be mad at you?”

Tobio brings a hand up to his neck, brushing at the recently buzzed off sections that are already starting to grow back after his most recent haircut. “Uhm, if I say maybe— or wait, if I say no will you—”

You interrupt his soon to be nervous rambling firmly but gently, shushing him with a soothing series of “Hey, listen to me” coupled with a few chants of his name, as if you were calming down a scared, jittery kitten.

Your lips purse in thought, contemplating your next words carefully. You know how Tobio can get about topics concerning your long distance relationship, eventually being able to settle him down so you can speak.

“Tobio,” you start, and his ears perk up intently at his name. “I knew because I know you like the back of my hand, you’re always so nervous to talk to me about anything relating to your work— I also knew about the renewal for a while now.”

“Really?” His eyes widen in shock, and he grabs his phone instinctively as he shoots up out of his chair, the screech of the legs against his floors echoing in the background. “But I haven’t decided on anything yet because—”

“Because of me, am I right?”

Tobio can’t find any way to argue against you when you smile at him so sincerely, it almost feels unreal for him the way you so comfortably can say what he’s thinking.

You don’t look angry, frustrated or even upset in the slightest even if he was technically hiding the news from you so he could bring it up at the right time.

Just what did he do to deserve you?

Thunder booms outside his Rome apartment, the rain crashing down louder than before. The storm must be picking up in strength, and your call’s audio grows distorted and scratchy on his end of the call— the bars of cell service at the top right of his phone are depleting quickly, the connection crumbling with each second.

After a few pressing minutes of “Hello? Tobio, can you hear me?” and “No, not really— wait now I can” from both of you, you finally manage to get a clear, concise point across to your nervous wreck of a fiancé.

“You don’t have to be so paranoid about what I will think,” you tell him, putting the bowl of raspberries off to the side of your lap now as you scorch closer to your laptop, allowing Tobio to see you more clearly now.

“That’s your decision to make, and I’ll support you no matter what.”

Heat singes across your cheeks dreamily at your next words, and you’re a little embarrassed at how your eyes grow glassy at the recollection. “Though, I do appreciate how you always wait to consult me first.”

Your hand goes to caress the outline of his cheek in your laptop’s screen, as silly as it may be to anybody who would witness it, it’s the closest you can get to the real deal in your current circumstances.

Tobio reacts accordingly as if he can feel it himself, stiffening at the gentle brush of the back of your fingers against his skin, and he wishes so desperately to be able to lean into its touch.

He settles for resting his cheek in the palm of his hand as a substitute.

“You’re so sweet, Tobio.”

The tips of Tobio’s own ears bloom a deep shade of crimson red in response, the few parts of his collarbone that you manage to see underneath his navy t-shirt blushing a slight hue of pink as well against his skin as he shyly murmurs a quiet “I miss you a lot, y’know. . . ” amidst the thunderous applause of the whipping winds and roiling crashes of water that pound outside his windows.

He can hear the trees thrashing around outside, their leaves swaying violently against the brick walls of his apartment.

Tobio reaches over to turn up the volume of his phone more to hear you more clearly, not wanting your voice to become drowned out by the storm raging on outside. When he sits back up in his chair, he has to take a moment to calm his racing heart, the thumping beat loudly booming in the back of his mind.

“It doesn’t feel right without you here with me,” he admits, gaze downcast into his hands, clasped into one another as he stares into the abyss of the empty crevices of his palm’s folds. In his mind he imagines his left hand as yours, intertwining with his own so he could run his thumb over the jewel of your engagement ring.

He misses the cool feel of the gold against your warm skin, hoping to one day be able to feel that with your wedding band instead. “I guess that’s why . . . I always want to ask you for permission before I decide.”

His hands clam up uncharacteristically, sweat pooling at the pads of his fingertips. He wipes them in the fabric of his home sweats to dry them, staining the grey linen.

“You— you’re more important to me than volleyball . . . ”

Your heart skips a beat. Then two more, swelling up tightly at his words.

You’ve always known Tobio to be a bit tentative than others about how he phrases his words, him being self-aware that at times he can come off as a bit too forward or overly aggressive on something if his stances are not structured correctly.

Whenever he speaks to your friends, fans or even in his own interviews with highly esteemed reporters, he always takes a deep pause, letting their own questions ruminate in his mind so he can come up with a cohesive response, one that isn’t too self imposing.

But to hear him say something assuredly, even with the unconscious stutter in his words has your face singeing with heat, and the sight of Tobio’s furious blush makes you incessantly wish that you were right beside him to pull him into a long, heartfelt embrace, arms wrapping around your own forearms to satiate the desire.

Goosebumps litter the surface of your skin, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as the patter of rain blares through your eardrums.

Tobio’s eyes peer back up to meet your own, and he sees that through the crunchy quality of your laptop’s monitor, your mouth opens to speak. “Tobio . . . I—”

And in an instant, the heralding tone of the call dropped notification pings through his device’s speakers, and Tobio’s jumping out of his seat in a moment’s notice once your face no longer occupies his phone screen.

He swipes downward from his screen, with a tab saying your call together ended at four hours, twenty-seven minutes and thirty-two seconds.

Muttering out low curses in quick succession, he quickly checks his phone app, seeing that your call was severed. The cell service bars at the top of his screen flicker between two and three, the weak connection only further emulated when a large flash of thunder strikes outside his apartment with the enslaughg of heavy downfalls of rain drops pooling in large puddles outside on the roads and sidewalks.

Three booms of thunder follow suit in the course of the lightning, their resounding echo feeling akin to an earthquake and enveloping his house from all sides.

His apartment feels much smaller now with the sea of sounds that crash around just past his brick walls and glass windows. It’s so loud outside now he realizes, monstrously so now that your calm voice no longer accompanies him, and the resounding silence of his apartment now feels empty without your presence.

The vast distance of ocean that separates you two seems more intrinsically noticeable now to him, and Tobio wonders if you feel the same on your end too back home when the line dropped and you could no longer see his face on your own laptop.

“Fuck,” Tobio’s thumb hovers over the call back button, ready to start up another glitch-filled video call when he’s nearly startled once more when his phone buzzes back to life, with your contact name soon flashing across the top of his screen.

He picks it up almost immediately, clearing his throat before speaking.

“Hello?”

“Tobio!” You chirp from the other end, and even without the video accompanying it he can still see and hear the way your smile reveals your teeth in a happy grin and your eyes crease at the ends from glee.

You sound just as relieved as he does, though a lot more sure of yourself than he does. Tobio wonders how you can still remain so chipper after all that while he feels like he’s been left on a lone lighthouse on a rock in the middle of a sea-born typhoon.

“Sorry, the call must’ve dropped! I couldn’t video call you back with my bad service so this is the best I can do,” your voice trails off towards the end of your sentence, your smile audibly dropping to a half one in its stead. Tobio’s tongue clicks against the porcelain of his teeth, swallowing and clearing his throat once more.

He wants to make you feel better, lift up your spirits the way you do his even when the stormy night sky has plans otherwise for him.

“It— it’s okay,” he recites in his mangled attempts to assure you, “the storm outside for me is pretty bad right now, so I probably wouldn’t be able to video call anymore too . . .”

Your disheartened “Aww” from the other end nearly breaks his heart into two, and he can practically envision the way your lips tug downwards, demeanor visibly deflating when he reaffirms your suspicions.

You bounce back quickly though, with a “don’t worry about it,” soon followed by “we can call back when the storm clears up tomorrow, okay?”

He lets out a low hum of agreement, and silence blankets over your call again as the two of you wait and see who has the gall to hang up first.

Neither of you wish for your time spent together to end so abruptly due to the rain, though it’s not anything that’s in your control either.

Once Tobio moved to Italy, the ball was no longer in your court. And the two of you have to rise early for your respective careers tomorrow (technically, now today) as well, once you take a glance at the wall mounted clock in your room that’s almost struck close to twelve in the morning by now.

“So . . .” you drawl out of awkwardness, and Tobio coughs into his closed fist. “. . . So.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow, then?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles meekly, “do you know what time you’ll call me?”

“No,” you tell him sadly, “but as soon as I’m off work, I will.”

“You promise?” He knows it’s childish to ask you ‘to promise’ him such a thing (he’s twenty-eight now for god’s sake), but he can’t help it when you let out a little giggle, his ears burning red again at your giddiness. “Yes, Tobio. I promise.”

“Okay,” his lips purse, but before he can speak you cut him off unknowingly with words woven from the sweetest honey imaginable, causing him to suck in a hasty breath of air in an instant.

“I love you, Tobio.” You sigh, twirling the ends of your hair around your finger as your gaze lingers on the lily sitting atop your desk.

It’s not a replacement for your beloved fiancé, but when the odds are stacked against you, anything to keep a piece of him close to home helps.

“And I miss you, so . . . so you better do your best on your new contract renewal! You gotta beat Shoyo-kun during the next volleyball game or else we’re never going to get married at this rate!”

“O— of course I will!” He sputters out nonsensically as you burst into a fit of laughter once more, knowing that all it takes is saying his old high school rival’s name in the same sentence as volleyball for him to get pumped up.

“Like hell I’ll let stupid Hinata beat me at an international level!”

“Yeah!” You cheer for him, smiling through your teeth into your phone screen, “And then you’re going to come home and marry me, you got that!”

He almost doesn’t seem to know what he’s even agreeing to, only giving you a solid “Yeah!” in return. He might not know what it is right now, but you know that his subconscious does, and that’s enough for you to rest easy for tonight.

“Hehe, okay then! Bye Tobio! I gotta sleep now, mwah!”

You blow him a quick kiss through the line before ending the call immediately afterwards, giving him no time to respond other than a sharp “What— huh?!” before you’re throwing your phone across your bed and burying yourself into your pillows and bedsheets, lightheaded as you inhale the scent sticking to their threads.

It only smells of you now.

You miss when the linen of your bed and the seams of your cushions didn’t just carry your scent; when it also included his as well, back when he slept comfortably next to you and was freely able to wrap his arms around your figure as you both drifted off to dreamland in the comfort of each other’s body warmth.

You miss the liveliness that Tobio brought to your shared home. You fondly remember waiting for him to come home from late practice just so you could indulge yourselves in each other’s presence after his shower, and sending him off in the early morning as you too went about on your own commute to work on your own.

Rain drops hammer down harshly outside your window, and while it may have been a nuisance to deal with any other day and was also the main culprit of your early-ending call, it seems oddly calming now— knowing that on the opposite end of the earth, the rain kisses down on Tobio’s roof top too.

A piece of you stretches from one country to another, showering your love for him even when your eyelids are heavy, voice afflicted with a groggy strain as a yawn slips past your lips.

You’re too tired to take off your engagement ring, normally keeping it tucked away in its velvet box for safekeeping in your bedside drawer as you sleep but for tonight, you choose to absentmindedly play with the gem on the golden band whilst taking a look outside the window through your open curtains.

The night is dreary and stormy, skyline painted a vivid ocean of black and dark blue-ish tinted purple. You can’t even see the thunderous cumulonimbus clouds overhead, the only visible sign of the rain above are the droplets that manage to stain your window prettily in their wake.

Your breathing stills as you settle yourself in bed, readying your mind and body for the long day ahead tomorrow, the rain acting as a backdrop of white noise that carries many sounds in its stormy, splendorous path.

And now, it simmers to a blur in your mind as sleep overtakes your body, and you wait patiently for the rain to carry away your goodbye kiss off to Rome thousands of miles away for your sweet, hotheaded and lovestricken fiancé.

The thunderstorms you and Tobio both bare tonight aren’t the same at all, though it wasn’t always this way.

And you hope that soon you won’t have to bare yours alone, no matter how much the rain crashes outside or the whirlwinds whip and threaten to pull down withstanding trees to the ground with their strength.

Under the storm clouds overheard your roof, the rain’s cataclysmic song sings you to sleep in an odd fashion.

Thunderous, constant, breathtaking and everlasting— all the qualities you find in a certain setter currently situated in Central Italy, who waits for the day he’ll be able to fly back home to you, so that you can be underneath the same clouds and domes of rain together once more.

reblogs ++ comments are greatly appreciated !! ꒰ ˆ ᗜ ˆ ˶ ꒱

#haikyuu x reader #kageyama x reader #tobio x reader #haikyuu fluff #kageyama fluff #tobio kageyama #kageyama tobio #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyu!!#haikyū!!#haikyuu x you #haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #haikyuu kageyama #ハイキュー!! * ( hq!! )#𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝔂 ﹕ 𝓪𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓵 ৻ꪆ

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thepastdied · 2 years ago

Text

Some Fun

eddie munson × fem!reader smut

Summary: You are Dustin's cousin and meet Eddie for the first time. Things get hot.

Loud laughter erupted from the dining room, echoing throughout the Henderson home and up the stairs.

Your eyes snapped open, frantically looking around.

"What the hell.." You murmered.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and stretched. It was just about 6pm, though still fairly bright out on this summer day, and the sky glowed a beautiful orange that poured through your bedroom window.

You'd just gotten back from college over on the East Coast. Every summer you come back to your aunts house, where you will stay for the next few months before returning back to your university. She was like a mother to you. And Dustin, Dustin was like a brother.

You kicked the covers off of you and swung your legs off the side of the bed before slumping over to your dresser. You'd regretfully overslept, your nap only meaning to be a couple hours, and now felt more tired than you did after finishing those chores this morning.

You changed out of your sweaty clothes and pulled on some pajama shorts, a tank top, and fixed your hair. More laughter came from the first floor, and you scrunched your eyebrows. Mike is so obnoxious..

Your feet padded against the hard wood floor of the hallway as you made your way downstairs.

"Hey." You threw an effortless greeting at the kids without looking up.

You sighed and went into the kitchen to get a glass from the cupboard. Your eyes flickered over to the dining room, the table half in view, to see the boys who've grown up far too quickly chuckling with one another.

Lucas so happened to look over and smiled as he gave you a small wave. Mike noticed, and so did Dustin, causing them all to turn around.

"You look like a fucking zombie." Mike cringed at you.

Your jaw dropped as you scoffed and shook your head.

"Well, I did sleep for literally 4 hours." You pointed out.

"Thought atleast one of you little shits would have woken me up so I could get you dinner". You added in annoyance before moving to the fridge.

You rummaged around before finally retrieving the lemon you'd been looking for and moving back into the boys' view.

"Well, Eddie already ordered us pizza since you were too busy sleeping," Dustin said.

"Child neglect." Mike just had to throw at you, causing you to mouth a 'shut the fuck up' in his direction.

"Wait, who?" You raised an eyebrow at them as you grabbed a knife from the drawer.

A head appeared out from behind the wall, scaring the living hell out of you and causing you to almost throw your knife.

"JESUS FUCK! You scared- oh, wow, hi" You stared at the brown eyed boy who had a silly grin on his face and instantly blushed. 'oh wow' Really!?

He snorted out a laugh as he stepped forward, a heavily ringed hand sticking out in front of you.

"I, my lovely maiden, am Eddie. Eddie the Banished." His eyes flickered down at your body before locking back onto yours. "My last name is actually Munson.. not Banished."

The boys began to talk with one another again and you were grateful, considering you were making a complete fool out of yourself.

You reached forward to grab his hand as you shyly laughed.

"I'm.." You blinked a couple of times. His eyebrows raised and disappeared into his fluffy bangs in anticipation. You somehow forgot your name.

"-y/n." You blurted out.

He grinned widely, revealing his perfect teeth and deep smile lines, head lightly bowing as he held your hand before letting go.

"Well, we were just about to throw a movie on - if you wanted to join." He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck and puffed his chest out.

You slowly nodded a few times, the gears in your brain having trouble working properly.

"This is a scary movie we are talking about, I hope?" You tilted your head in question.

"Is Children of the Corn scary enough for you?" He leaned his tall frame against the wall, one leg crossing over the other coolly.

You bit the inside of your cheek. Scary movies never really got to you. But if you get to sit next to him then.. suddenly, you find this movie terrifying.

"I should be able to hold myself together." You smirked up at him.

You turned around to go back to your task of cutting up the lemon for your water. Eddie didn't move an inch and instead raked his eyes down your body. You glanced over to him, his eyes fixated on your bare thighs. You cleared your throat.

"I can meet you guys in the living room?" You spoke without looking at him. You didn't want him to feel flustered about you catching him staring.

"Y-yeah, sure." He clumsily scurried to where the kids were.

You released a long breath and held your aching chest as he disappeared into the other room.

Eddie gave the kids pizza while you went to grab blankets for everyone. The larger couch in the living room has a pullout bed where the three boys stayed huddled together with the large pizza box in the center. You found it adorable, just like the old days.

"You need help up there?" Eddie calls up the stairs.

Your tongue sticks out from between your lips as you stretch your arms as high as you can to reach the top shelf of the closet.

"I'm- shit..!" Your fingers graze the corner of the blanket before your toes give out, and you slumped back onto your feet.

Eddie reaches the top of the stairs just as you slap your hands to your side in defeat.

"Please.." You sigh as you wipe the sweat from your forehead.

He chuckles and (unnecessarily) walks behind you, his chest pressed against your back as he easily grabs the blanket and tosses it over your head. You flail your arms and bunch it into your chest, sending him a playful glare, your hair messy and in your face.

"Eddie the Banished is about to really get banished." You lean forward and narrow your eyes as you blow the stray hairs out of your face.

"You are gonna banish me? Sweetheart, I'd like to see you try." He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and wiggles his eyebrows.

"Oh my god, what does that even mean?" You slap his arm at his supposed dirty remark.

He holds where your hand made contact and throws himself against the wall, sliding down until he is a heap on the floor.

"No- no! Please! Don't banish me- I'll do anything!" He pleads as he grabs your ankle.

Your hand covers your mouth as you giggle at his over the top theatrics. He is fucking insane..

"Eddie.. get off the floor." You shake your head in disbelief.

"That's what you want me to do? I was hoping it would be something more like... you know-" He pauses his pleas and whispers.

"Wha- Eddie, get up!" You reach down and grab his arm, as if that will do anything.

He wears a mischievous smile as he stands and shakes his hair. You close your eyes and breathe out before walking past him to go downstairs. The boys didn't seem to notice either of you were gone and as you rounded the corner to the living room Eddie grabbed your arm.

"Hey, you should sit with me." His eyes flicked between yours, nervous that you'd say no.

You nodded your head and continued to the living room, blinking a few times as you see each of the boys already had their own blanket.

"Where did you get those?" You pointed to each of them.

Dustin looked at you as if you were stupid and pointed go the door on the opposite side of the living room. "The closet."

You stared blankly as they continued their conversation and looked at Eddie. His tongue was in his cheek as he stared back smirking and patted the cushion next to him on the empty couch. A wave of anxiety hit you as you approached him and slumped down. Eddie came upstairs after you. He must have known the kids already had blankets. You stilled when his thigh touched yours as he spread his legs.

Dustin shut the lights and started the movie, the entire room being enveloped in darkness.

You looked down at Eddie's legs and felt your heartbeat thump in your chest.

And Eddie, he was looking at your crossed legs and didn't miss the way they were clenching together.

The past thirty minutes have felt like an eternity. You were practically dripping into your shorts.

Your eyes shot down as Eddie moved one of his hands to his thigh and rubbed his palm against his rough jeans, slowly working his fingers toward you. You jumped when his fingertips barely grazed the outside of your thigh. He turned his head to look at you as he did it again, watching your chest rise as you took in a sharp breath. You let him put his whole hand on your thigh and leaned your leg into the touch. His hair tickled your shoulder as he grazed his lips against your ear.

"Is this okay, sweetheart?" He rubbed his thumb in circles and moved his hand slowly toward the inside of your thigh.

You silently nodded and moved the blanket onto your lap, spreading your thighs just a little.

Eddie hummed as he sat upright again and looked over to where the kids sat. Your fingers grabbed his wrist before they were able to meet your pussy. He quickly looked at you, understanding your knowing look.

You sat like that for the remainder of the movie. His hand on your inner thigh and both of you excruciatingly horny, though unable to go further for obvious reasons.

"Welp. We're gonna go for a bike ride." Dustin stood up and stretched, the others following suit as he flicked the table lamp on. They began to grab the empty soda cans from the side table.

"A bike ride now? It's going on 8pm -"

Eddie ripped his hand from your leg and stood up, discreetly fixing himself in his pants.

"We can clean up here, shoo shoo. Be back in an hour so we can watch another movie, the night is still young my sheepies!" Eddie shooed them away with his hands and pushed them out the door, each of them giving eachother puzzled looks.

You stood from the couch as Eddie came back into the room and began throwing the trash away while he moved the remaining pizza to the kitchen. There was so much tension that it was unbearable.

"So.." He started. Geez.. now it's even more awkward.

You really, really needed him. Anything from him.

You raised an eyebrow at him as he moved to sit on the couch again, roughly patting his lap. "Come here."

You shifted on your feet and rung your fingers together. The way your legs rubbed together made you want to moan- that's how desperate you were.

He spread his legs out and licked his bottom teeth as you stood in front of him. You put your hands on his shoulders as you moved to straddle his lap.

"Fuck.." He breathed out as his hands gripped your waist and pulled you tighter to him.

You turned your head in embarrassment of the situation.

"Hey-" He moved one hand to your jaw.

"Look at me." Eddie's voice was soft. You did as he said.

"Would it be cool if I like.. kissed you?" He asked before he pursed his lips and scrunched his eyes shut. As if you'd say no?

You giggled at his bashfullness as your hands moved from his shoulders to his chest.

He opened one eye to peek at you and then shut it again to shake his head in a giddy manner.

"Eddieeee.." You whined.

He opened his eyes and lightly laughed before leaning forward and brushing his nose against yours. You smiled when his breath touched your lips, causing him to laugh. He mumbled an apology before moving one hand to the back of your neck and drawing you into a soft kiss. You pulled apart for only a second before he roughly pulled you flush into him, your gasp being silenced by his mouth.

Eddie's fingers raked down your back and to your ass, gripping you hard and moving his hips up into you. You moaned and rolled your hips. He tore his mouth from yours and let his head fall back, his hair dangling over the back of the couch as you sat up.

"Holy fucking s-shit" He moaned with an open mouth and then clenched his jaw as he groaned.

You throbbed when you saw his neck muscles tense up. His chest was hot under your hands as you trailed them down to his pelvis, where you snaked your fingers under his shirt. Your hips ground into him, his jeans giving just the right amount of rough friction to throw you over the edge. His fingers tightened on your ass when you leaned down, tits pressing against his chest, as you latched your mouth onto his neck. You moaned as you felt your slick gush against your panties.

"Woah that.. that's f-fucking good." Eddie shivered as you licked and sucked up his neck to behind his ear.

His dick was rock-hard under you as you rolled your hips against it. Eddie moved his hands in between your bodies as you continued to devour his neck, his breath quaking while he fumbled with his belt and undid his jeans.

Only the thin layer of his boxers was keeping his raw dick hidden from you. You sat up and wiped the saliva from your mouth with the back of your hand. Eddie's head remained on the back of the couch as he rolled it to the side to look at you. His hair was pushed back on one side revealing the dark marks you left on his neck. He probably has no idea. You smirked.

You palmed him through his boxers and could feel the wetness of his precum seeping through. He groaned from his throat and bucked his hips up into your hand.

"Please.." He breathed out, his adams apple bobbing as he swallowed.

You quickly stood up and removed your shorts, keeping the panties, before sitting back down. Eddie's mouth hung open while he watched your every move.

You positioned your clothed pussy over him and lightly dragged it along his boxers. You sighed in pleasure as the warmth of his dick met your pussy. You felt your slick slide between your folds as you pressed into him, letting your head fall back as you moaned his name.

"Y-you're.. oh god, you're so wet. You're gushing I can f-feel it." He pulled his head up and looked down where your bodies met. Your juices were seeping out of your panties and onto his covered dick.

"Wanna cum on you.." You mumbled, entire body heating up.

Eddie laughed from his throat and frantically nodded.

"And you will, baby. You're gonna fall apart just f'me, huh?" He put one hand back on your ass and another down to your pussy, running his fingers along the outside of your panties. "Fucking soaking.."

He held his hand in front of your face, sticking his glistening fingers together and separating to show the strings of your slick. Both of your breaths were hot and shallow as you continued to grind into him.

"Mm.. never tasted pussy before." He brought his fingers to his mouth and stuck his long tongue out, licking a long strip along his fingers as his dark eyes bore into yours and he moaned at the taste.

"Oh my god-" You choked out a moan and your nails dug into the skin of his waist as you began to roll your hips faster.

"Shit shit shit shit-" Eddie gasped and sat up, holding you by your waist and meeting his hips with each of your movements.

He mouthed at your collarbone and shamelessly moaned as you tangled your fingers in his hair at the nape of his neck. His teeth grazed your skin before he lightly bit down and messily kissed a trail up to your mouth. You bit and licked into eachothers mouths.

"Fuck yeah, just like that." He moaned into your mouth as your fast pace brought both of you closer to cumming. "Wanna-" He grunted as his movements stuttered. "Wanna come with you, sweetheart."

"Mhm.. mhm I'm close. R-really close." You kissed him deeper as he got more sloppy, one of his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you against him while another hand came to grab your face. His tongue was almost down your throat, not that you were complaining. You tore away from him and babbled incoherently, head falling slack to your shoulder as your hips jerked against his as you reached your high. A loud cry rang throughout the room as you arched your back and fisted his hair tighter, legs beginning to shake with over stimulation.

"Okay.. woah that's hot -kay.. okay, okay, okay- FUCK." He let out a long guttural moan as he flopped backwards onto the couch.

Spurts of warmth spread from underneath you, both of your juices mixing together. Your chest heaved as you looked him over. He panted as he looked at you, his hair wild and splayed out across the back of the couch, some sticking to his cheeks, and his face flushed and sweaty. He gulped and wiped his face with the sleeve of his Hellfire shirt.

"C'mere.." Eddie motioned you closer, smiling like a complete dope while trying to catch his breath.

You layed on him and breathed out a relaxed sigh as he kissed the side of your head.

"Next time.. maybe we could go in my room?" You speak quietly against his chest, his heart thumping loudly in your ear.

"Next time!? Goddam.. you'll be the death of me, baby. Of course." His chest vibrated at he spoke, belly shaking when he laughed.

You sat up enough to look at his face.

"So you liked it then..?" You leaned in and pecked his lips.

"Seriously?" He grinned widely, just as he did when you first met only hours ago.

"That.. was fun. Shit."

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