#and the issue at hand here is that they believe that conversion is possible and necessary in order to live a life free of sin or something | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pedgito · 1 year

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

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

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

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

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3

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

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

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

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

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

As for him, he was Dad.

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

And, in your defense, it works well.

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

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

Until again, it becomes a problem.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe she’s flirting with you.”

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

“Darlin’, I doubt that.”

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

Joel gives her a look that answers itself.

“Then?”

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

So, smooth sailing for you, you think.

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

But, they never come.

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

Sarah's the one to remind him of it.

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

“Go.”

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

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

It doesn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what about the other ones?”

It was justifiable, the questions he had.

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

“You’re…a teacher?” Joel assumes.

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

“Yeah, first grade.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re fine, again—it’s harmless.”

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

“Thank you, uh—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you have markers, by chance?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You knock on the glass pane lightly.

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

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

“I’m busy!”

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

Sarah’s silence is answer enough.

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

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

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

And truly, you’ve never been more thankful.

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

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

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

“Should I guess?” Joel asks.

“Uh—“

“The box.” He clarifies.

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

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

“Uh, let’s see—clay?”

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

“God no, that would be everywhere.”

“Those creepy little eyes?”

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

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

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

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

“Invite her over already!”

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

“If you don’t I will.” She adds.

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

“Right, uh—“

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

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

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

Point one, Sarah. Joel, zero.

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

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

“I can be.”

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

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

“Great, tomorrow at 7?”

“6!” Sarah quickly corrects, sounding exhausted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joel shrugs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You pull away begrudgingly, but it fades quickly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're quick to quiet his mind.

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

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

But, despite the disorganization it’s nearly spotless.

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

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

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

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

“No shelves, no storage?”

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

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

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

“That’s nice, Joel, but—“

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

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

“You are too kind, Joel Miller.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And, hell, it was work.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joel’s eyebrows raise, intrigued.

You shrug, making a noncommittal noise as you hum.

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

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

“Can I ask you somethin’, Joel?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He gestures vaguely to the cabinet full of towels.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sure, for the work.

“Deal.”

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

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

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

“Cold?” He asks around a bite.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Course, anything.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Care to enlighten me?”

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

“Darlin’, I’d rather show you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You never do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about tomorrow?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“At your service, sweetheart.”

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

“You are so screwed, brother.”

And Joel knows it’s true.

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

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

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myladysapphire · 4 months

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My Lady Strong (VI)

Aemond had always been protective of his neice, obssessed even, insiting on keeping her sheltered, and purley his, he never let her stray far and following the incident at Driftmark, Aemma was rarley without Aemond as her shadow. How will the kind, sheltered girl fair in the dance of dragons?

word count: 3,100

CW: MDI 18+, toxic relationship, manipulation, mommy issues, bullying, co-dependancy issues, self harm, not beta read.

Fem!oc x dark!Aemond Targeryen

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

disclamer: i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and fire characters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all characters are his except for my OC

A/N sorry its been so long! forgot wehat direction i was going in with this story so going off the few notes i had left about this chapter! might be a few changes ive made from the last few chapters, but hopefully it all makes sense! but this story is gonna get dark and sad!

Aemma had been pacing back and forth for the last hour, nerves clear on her face as her mother and brothers were set to arrive in only a days time. She hadn’t spoken to her in what had felt like forever, and she had no idea on what too expect. She thought that perhaps she might have done something but thinking back on the countless letters she had written, she could not think of a single thing she could have possibly said. Perhaps taking Aemond’s side at Driftmark, or perhaps refusing to leave his side after the fact.

She had made her complaint to Aemond, the morning after they had reconnected, he had simply laughed, “oh Aemma, do you really think your mother cares about you? She happily sent you of to wed me the second it was suggested.” He said as he brushed her hair for her, having dismissed her ladies so they could break their fast. “if she cared about you she would have demanded I got to Dragonstone, not you here, she simply wished to be rid of you.”

Aemma looked down, she refused to believe it, her mother had always preached how she was her favourite child, then again, after Driftmark her mother did just send her away, she would have visited her more or asked her to visit if it was true. “Really?” she asked tears in her eyes.

“oh of course” he smirked, “but do not worry dear, soon enough you shall be my wife and she will no longer have to even act as if she cared for you, and you will not have to care for her either.”

She shook her head, and looked up at him, meeting his smirk in the mirror “do you think she loves me still?”

“no” he replied instantly.

A tear fell from her eye “do you love me?” she near begged.

Aemond’s smirk widened, his eyes twinkling, “of course” she turned her head, and he instantly gripped her chin, “and you love me, don’t you?”

“no” she replied. His grip tightened slightly, “I do not know what it is to love Aemond, but perhaps…once we get to know each other more.”

He frowned. “We have known each other our who lives”

“Yes, but these past years we have been distant, I know nothing of you”.

“And whose fault is that” he said stepping away, “was it not for that bastard I would still have my eye! And you would love me!”

She stood up, following him, “how does-“he stopped her, turning around quickly to face her.

“Because it does!” he almost whined, “you were mine! And then you were handed to me on a silver platter and yet all you have done is whine about your mother and your stupid brothers!” he took a breath, allowing her an opportunity to speak.

“I begged to stay with you Aemond, I defended you and –“

“And you begged them to stay also!” she looked at him, she had never told him of the conversation with her mother.

“How do you know that?” she asked bewildered. “and what does that have to do with anything?”

“everything!” after what they did to me, to YOU! And you wanted them to stay” he shook his head, “I went to find you, I needed you and you were begging your mother to stay? Do you think I could forgive you?”

“Aemond-“ she was crying now.

“these past years I have grow into the man I knew you wanted, not the silly little boy you grew up with, but the man you need, my mother has been nothing but a mother to you, and yet you still crave that whore and those bastards”

“I’m sorry Aemond. “she said, reaching for his hands, “your right, I am so sorry, I just wanted my muna, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She caressed his hand, “but I didn’t want too lose you or her and yet I lost you both!” she whined, “I needed you too!” she cried, wrapping her arms around his waist.

She needed him. Aemond smiled, “goo. because I am all you will ever and have ever needed.” He said holding her to him, “your mother is here in formality over, and at the end of the week she will be nothing to you, I will be your everything, your husband, your protector, your Aemond.”

“And let me remind you sweet Aemma, that without me you would remain Lady strong, a princesses bastard. And yet you betrayed me, begged for our tormentors to stay and if that had happened do you think I would have been able to devote these past five years to becoming your protector, to become the man you desired?”

She shook her head.

“They were cruel to you, hated you. All because your mother favoured you, do you think they will have changed?”

She shook her head again, and started to think back, growing up all she had ever wanted was to marry Aemond, and have him be her protector and never have to see Jace and Luke again.

She had thought that after Driftmark she would never get that Aemond, he had changed the second that eye was taken from him. He became cold and cruel and there was even whispers he was mad.

“but-“she started to speak, a part of her felt like he had turned into them.

He had tormented her for years and now he seemed to be perfect for her. It didn’t make sense.

“But what?” he asked, suddenly moving closer to her.

“you have been cruel, ignoring me then you started to torment me, sending me the heads of Aemma’s roses, as if you were threatening me.”

He shook his head, “I don’t know what your talking about”

“yes you do!”

“no Aemma, your confused, I sent you Aemma’s roses, to show I was thinking of you , and I never cut there heads of” he laughed, “and I only ignored you as I felt so hurt by what you did”

“i- but you cut of-“ she shook her head, “I-I I’m so confused, Aemond I- perhaps I should ask Cassandra, she has a better memory than me –“

“no Aemma, your just misremembering, you’ve always had trouble with remembering things” he said, “and do you not trust me?” he said sounding sad.

she shook her head, “of course not- I, just I thought you hated me for whatever reason and now I must have thought your acts were of torment and not …love” she said unsure.

“it okay Aemma, I know you struggle and I know you have always had difficulties with things” he said softly, “I was hurt and scared you would hate me too, I should have been more upfront, it is all my fault” he said, pulling her into a hug, “I know you are sorry, and I am too”/

He wasn’t, he loved the look on her face when she opened the box of cut of Aemma’s rose heads, loved the way she was scared, but he also realised years of ignoring her had made him seem untrustworthy, and he feared he made a mistake, he had a new strategy to play. At first he wantec her to be scared and run to him for help, but it seems her ladies and beloved Cassandra had gotten in the way of that plan, and made him the villain.

He supposed he had to get them out of the way.

Since that conversation, Aemond had made sure she did not leave his side.

Saying how he missed her dearly, and realising how much he needed her and pushing her away had hurt him more than it hurt her.

She had felt so badly for him, and before he knew it they were back to their old habits, were she went he went, she would even ask him too choose all her clothes, even serve her dinner.

She forgot how simple life was with Aemond, how happy and easy he made her life.

And Aemond was loving it, he loved getting to control every detail about her, she would dress how he liked, believing it her choice to let him pick, she would follow him everywhere, meaning he no longer had to follow her.

The only problem was that her ladies maids were still in the way. They ere there when she woke, and dressed, giving question stares as he would enter her rooms, whispering in her ear about things Aemma would never reveal.

He wasn’t jealous just angry.

He had been hurt all those years ago and ignored her because he wanted to be better. Become the best possible Aemond, become her protector and a man who would never again loose his eyes to is silly little nephews, and someone who would never let them hurt Aemma again.

And it was blatantly obvious that his ignoring of her head made her annoyingly close to her little friends.

He had hidden letters from her mother the first year, then they came less and less, before stopping altogether. He would allow a few of Aemma’s letters to be sent, not before reading them himself. He wanted her too feel isolated, but that had failed, and now it would be too suspicious for Aemma to receive the letters her mother had sent over the years, especially as he had read them all and hated the love his sister had for her daughter, hated that no matter how hard he wanted to hide it, her mothers return would only pull them apart once more.

So he realised the game of isolation needed to change and to get ride of the Ladies he must earn their trust, so he wooed them, by sitting in at their gatherings and showing undivided devotion to Aemma, there was still the issue of Cassandra Baratheon. She despised him, and he here. She was brash and loud, and Aemma’s best friend.

He wasn’t jealous, no, not at all. Not jealous of the way she effortless laughed at her jokes or talked to her without having the perplexed and wanted to please look in her eyes that’s she did with him.

He watched the bitterly as they chatted the day away. She seemed to light up around Cassandra, and he hated it.

“Are you nervous about you mother and brothers return?” Cassandra asked, sipping her tea.

“yes, especially my mother” she sighed, stirring her tea “I did receive a letter from my brothers this morning” she reviled, much to Aemond’s surprise. He had ordered all letters addressed to Aemma be sent to him straight away, how this had escaped him – “I had waited in the ravenry for a reply for my letter, and one had just arrived when I got there.” She reviled, answering what Aemond was wondering.

“what did it say?” Cassandra and Aemond asked simultaneously.

“Luke and Jace were asking about how I am , and saying they were sorry if their actions in our youth and wish for us to reconnect upon there return.” She replied.

“you will do no such thing” Aemond spoke, standing up.

“And why not?” Cassandra asked, clearly unhappy at Aemond.

“because of how they have always treated her!2

“oh please, they were children!” Cassandra spoke, now standing alongside Aemond, “ they have apologized and wish to know there sister, and from what Aemma has told me, I and my sisters have done far worse to each other than they did to her!”

Aemond scoffed, “please, they were bullies, they locked her in the black cells!”

“they- they what?” Cassandra asked, no looking towards Aemma.

“i- its true they did, but they have apologised incessantly since then.” Aemma said, trying to diffuse the situation, “they are my brothers, and they.. they said sorry”

“You still have nightmares Aemma” Aemond spoke, now moving back to his seat and taking her hands in his.

This perplexed Aemma she had never not once told Aemond of her dreams, especially of that night, he himself had always felt partly responsible for it, having taken so long to find her, and having left her alone that night. “what?” she asked, “I never told you about my dreams…”

Aemond flinched sightly, realising his mistake, and Cassandra herself took on an angry expression, “how do you know of those dreams Prince Aemond?” she asked, moving herself closer to Aemond and Aemma, as if to protect her.

“i- she is to be my wife, I only took a concern when the guards said she would often wake screaming.” He said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“but that still-“ Aemma started, slowly removing her hands from Aemond.

“don’t concern yourself too much Aemma I simply stood guard to ensure you did not try to harm yourself.”

Aemma flinched, Aemond cant know about that, no one does. Not even her maids. She had always kept her arms covered, he cant know.

Her eyes betrayed her, showing a scared expression, an expression both Aemond and Cassandra took to be scared about hurting herself.

“I – I” she stuttered, “I don’t know what you-“

“don’t worry Aemma, nothing bad happened, and your brothers wont get anywhere near you” Aemond spoke.

Aemma nodded, trying to mask her own fear of Aemond potentially knowing her secret to make it look like she feared her brothers.

Her parents were set to arrive on the morrow, and All Aemma could do was twist and turn. Dreams had been plaguing her. Ever since the black cells she has been getting premonitions, dreams of what was to come, dreams that have come true.

She supposed she was lucky, Helenas dreams caused her to speak in riddles, some even called her mad. When in truth Aemma was the one who was mad. She scratched and bleed as she dreamed, tearing at the skin on her arm. Her hands felt like they were soaked in blood, her nails turned red, as she scratched and teared. She dreamt of herself, she was married with children, but one was dead. She killed him. She must have, blood was on her hands, on her dress her face. Her other children cowered in the corner, flinching away from her.

“a son for a son!” she woke up gasping, the words ringing in her head.

Her bed sheets were stained in her blood, her arms scarred. The wounds from her last dream only just having healed.

She couldn’t help it, it was if her only escaped from her dreams was to harm herself. Perhaps it had been the three years of isolation she had felt so alone, where the dreams controlled her. She would send days and days tuck in the loop. Until one day her mother wrote to her of needing alliances and how her and Alicent had chosen her ladies. Her ladies had saved her, Cassandra specifically. She would wake her up, help her dress, and for once Aemma had a reason to escape her dreams. But then Aemond’s neglect and ignorance of her had turned cruel, calling her “my lady strong”, a name he had only just stopped calling her.

But something haunted her as she paced around her chambers, Aemond’s torment had put a stop to her dreams, the dreams were there was no dancing dragons, or no blood-soaked hands and gowns. Instead the dreams were of dragon snapping dragons neck, storm soaked nights and screams. And then since this week her nightmares have been full of crying, begging and blood. And now this.

It seemed no matter what her life would be full of tears and screams, and death.

“Aemma.” Cassandra said, walking into her chambers, alongside the rest of her ladies, Cerci Lannister, Cerelle Costayne, Margaret Fossway and Rosia Tyrell.

She had not slept since being awoken from her dreams, she had bathed and dressed, applied ointment to her scares, and had proceeded to pace her rooms nonstop.

She was worried, her mother would be here soon, and she had no ideas what she would be like.

She knew nothing of her, and she feared her mother may no longer love her. And well she was nervous about her wedding, and the wedding night. Aemond and Alicent had told her about it in the past week, and she was scared. And she just needed her Muna.

“how are you feeling?” Cersi asked.

“I am nervous” she admitted.

“of course, you will be wed on the morrow, you are bound to be nervous” Margaret added.

“well i-“

“but think, you will get to marry someone who loves you!” Rosia gushed.

“yes you are so lucky!” Cerelle complained, she had received news yesterday of her father engaging her to some man who had been married twice before and she had never met.

“oh Cerelle, he’s old hell probably die before you can wed.” Aemma said nonchalantly, and Cassandra laughed as she watched Aemma gasp at her own words. “sorry, just today the first time I will see my mother and brothers in years. I’m nervous”

Cassandra grabbed her hand, caressing home gently, “it’ll be okay, I’m sure.” She then looked to Cerelle “ and Aemma’s right, he’s what eight and seventy, he could croak at nay moment!” they all laughed, and for the first time that day Aemma’s mind was finally taken of what was to come.

She stood in the courtyard wating for their arrival, alongside her stood alone, Alicent having to have leave only moments ago to take care of something. She had done all her wedding planning with Alicent, she had comforted her when she cried over her mothers lack of care over her wedding, and visiting her despite her countless letters over the years. But Alicent seemed nervous, as if she was waiting for something or scared of something, and even more so when she had to leave.

After a few moments a carriage finally arrived in the courtyard, and her mother was the first to step out.

She wanted to run to her, to hug her and tell her how she had missed her. But her dream, it rang in her head.

“A son for a son” that all she could hear, and a voice in her head told her it was her mother’s fault, that her mother would force her to kill her son. She didn’t want to think it, but her mothers face, her blood soaked hands and a headless child was all she could see.

She made her way slowly walking down the steps the greet them.

“muña, lēkia” she greeted, a smile gracing her face. “welcome home”

next part

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xiaq · 1 year

Text

Part 1 Here

Prompts combined for Pt. 2 are : Outsider POV, Steve Harrington is an idiot (affectionate), Wayne Finds Out, and Everyone is Queer Because I Said So.

Wayne Munson knows he’s not the best parental figure. He never liked kids. Never wanted kids. And he nearly said no when the social worker called asking if he wanted to take guardianship of his thirteen-year-old nephew. Because surely there was someone better suited. Except then the social worker told him why Eddie had been removed from his father’s care. About the magazines Eddie’s father had found in Eddie’s backpack that preceded him kicking Eddie out. About the fights Eddie had been getting into at school. About the song lyrics his temporary foster had found in his journal. And suddenly Wayne wasn’t so sure there was a better option. He knew there had to be people more equipped to raise a traumatized queer teenager, but there was no guarantee Eddie would end up with one of them. The opposite was far more likely. Wayne knew firsthand that much of the world was unkind to people like them.

In the years that follow, they don’t talk about it. He figured once he’d won the kid’s trust, Eddie would bring it up in his own time. Or maybe Eddie would ask why Wayne spends a weekend in Indy once a month or maybe ask who he’s spending the weekends with. But somehow those conversations never happen and Wayne doesn’t force them.

It’s not until he finds Steve Fucking Harrington keeping vigil at Eddie’s hospital bedside that he thinks maybe he should have pushed the issue sooner.

Because Harrington looks like he’s been through a war. He’s covered in blood and grime; only his arms, washed to his elbows where he’s holding Eddie’s hand, are clean. He’s looking at Eddie with naked emotion. And, perhaps most damning, he’s wearing Eddie’s battle jacket.

When Wayne enters the room, Harrington startles and says, “Hi. I’m Steve Harrington,” like Wayne and everyone else in Hawkins weren’t already aware of that.

“I know who you are. I know who your father is, too.”

“I’d uh, prefer you didn’t hold that against me.”

Wayne makes no promises. “How do you know Eddie?”

“We’re…friends,” Steve says. There’s a continent of things unsaid behind the word.

“And how are you in his room past visiting hours?”

“I bribed the nurse," he admits. “I didn’t want him to be alone.”

“Well. On that, we’re agreed. But I’m here now. And no offense, kid, but you look like you should be in one of these beds yourself.”

“Yeah. I told them once you got here I’d let them stitch me up. It’s not anything life-threatening.” He says this with the resigned intonation of someone who is familiar with the difference.

What the fuck has Eddie gotten himself involved in?

Harrington stands. It’s a slow, painful, movement, and he only lets go of Eddie’s hand at the last possible second. “Can I—I’d like to come back. After. If you don’t mind.”

Wayne considers him. He considers Eddie’s blood-smeared vest on the kid’s shoulders. He realizes, belatedly, that Eddie’s guitar pick necklace is hanging around Harrington’s bruised throat, the rings usually crammed onto Eddie’s fingers lined up on either side of the pick.

“Sure,” he says. “Be nice to have some company. And you can tell me what the hell happened.”

Harington sighs. “Not sure how much I’m allowed to tell. Or how much you’ll believe. But I can try.”

Wayne takes his place holding Eddie’s hand.

He tries to ignore the fact that Harrington stands in the doorway for more than a minute, just looking, before finally slipping into the hall.

He’s back a few hours later, clearly showered, wrapped in gauze, and wearing the preppiest goddamn outfit. Honestly, Wayne can’t fathom how Eddie and Harrington have anything in common. He’s also still wearing the necklace, though. And when he pulls up a chair to sit on the opposite side of Eddie’s bed, he removes the necklace and carefully, downright tenderly, returns the rings to Eddie’s fingers. Wayne notices, almost despite himself, that Harrington isn’t just guessing at the placement, either. He knows. So either he’s intimately familiar with Eddie’s fingers––something that, as impossible as it sounds, is starting to seem more and more likely––or he’s particularly observant. And that kind of observance speaks to its own sort of devotion.

Wayne isn’t excited about either of these options.

He’s trying to figure out how to ask if Steve Fucking Harrington is Eddie’s boyfriend without scaring him away when Eddie shifts, which has Wayne and Steve both jumping to their feet.

“Wayne?” he murmurs. And Wayne isn’t one for emotional displays but he finds himself participating in one for the next few minutes nonetheless.

Once he gets ahold of himself, Eddie’s head turns, slow with painkillers, to see Harrington.

“Stevie,” he says, grinning. “Hey. I’m not dead.”

“Despite your best efforts,” Steve chokes out. His hands are fisted under his armpits and he looks about five seconds away from crying. Not that Wayne can judge since he’s more than five seconds into crying.

“What did I tell you, what did you promise?” Harrington snarls.

Eddie’s grin dims. “Not to be a hero. But Dustin––shit. Dustin. Is he...”

“Fine. Sprained ankle. Pissed as hell at you. Everyone else is fine too. Max is down the hall. She has some broken bones but she’ll be alright.”

“Sorry,” Eddie murmurs. “How did I—“

“We went back for you.”

“We?”

“I,” Harrington grits out. “I went back for you. Thought you were dead. Carried you back anyway. Didn’t realize you were still breathing until we got you in the car. Drove like hell to the hospital.”

And that’s. Well, shit. Apparently, Wayne is going to need to temper his distrust of this particular Harrington. Because it sounds like he saved Eddie’s goddamn life.

“He also refused treatment and waited with you until I got here,” Wayne feels he has to add. “Despite the fact he was bleeding everywhere.”

Eddie glances between them, eyes huge. “Shit. I’m sorry. Hey, no, don’t––”

Steve is crying now, not even trying to hide it, and Eddie holds out a hand, wincing. “Come here, man, I’m fine. Or I’ll probably be fine, right?”

“So says the doctor,” Wayne agrees.

Steve doesn’t need a second invitation.

He all but collapses, carefully, into Eddie’s outstretched arms, and Eddie’s hands bunch into the fabric of Steve’s sweatshirt and he crams his face into Steve’s neck and they’re so––their obvious, desperate, affection for each other is so unapologetic that Wayne has to look away.

It’s not until later, when they’ve hashed out the basics of the insane upside-down phenomenon, that they finally convince Steve to go home and sleep.

He waits ten seconds after the door has closed to exhale, pressing his palms into his eyes.

“Jesus, kid. I knew you had expensive taste with cigarettes and guitars but this? He’s the closest thing to royalty this town has.”

Eddie lets out a hysterical little warble of a laugh. “No. No, no. That’s not—we’re not.”

“What the hell are you then?”

“Friends. Bonded through extreme trauma.”

“But you’d like to be more than friends.”

Eddie looks at him askance “I’ll take what I can get and I won’t ask for more,” he says quietly.

Unfortunately, Wayne is well familiar with that kind of love. He just can’t get Steve’s expression out of his head. The gentle way he’d replaced Eddie’s rings. He doesn’t think Eddie’s interest is as one-sided as Eddie does. But he doesn’t want to meddle. He’s certain they’ll figure themselves out.

Two months later, Wayne is starting to think they’re both idiots. Because half the time when he gets home from his evening bar shift––a new job after the plant disappeared into the fiery abyss––Steve’s BMW is parked down the street and when he cracks Eddie’s bedroom door he finds them cuddled up, asleep. Sometimes he’ll go to rent a movie and Steve will be wearing a shirt that Wayne knows is Eddie’s and half the time when he wakes Eddie up in the mornings he’s wearing a pastel sweater monogrammed with initials that don’t belong to Eddie. He’d think they’re together and keeping it quiet if not for the fact that Eddie is driving him absolutely insane with pining. He’s written three songs about longing and heartbreak in the last two weeks and if Wayne has to listen to one more wailing ballad he’s going to lose his goddamn mind.

He’s walking back from the bar after closing, only a mile from the new fancy trailer the government had installed for them when he passes Harrington’s conspicuous vehicle a few houses down. He sighs. The boy really has no sense of subtly.

He’s expecting to find them, as usual, asleep in a tangle of limbs, except when he reaches the porch stairs, he can hear the boys talking.

He pauses with his hand on the railing.

“What are you doing,” Eddie murmurs, voice just carrying from the open living room window.

“Well. I’d like to kiss you, if you’d let me.”

About damn time, Wayne thinks.

“Steve, wait,” Eddie says. And it’s so quiet, so uncertain, that Wayne is tempted to open the door right then if only to prevent Ed from sounding so broken.

“I can’t be a practice run for you,” Eddie says, “Please. I can’t. I wouldn’t survive that.”

“A––what the fuck, Eddie.”

“It’s just, I know this is new to you and I’m, obviously, all about exploration and, um, finding yourself. Congratulations. Yay. But I can’t be an experiment. Not with you. I can’t.”

“You’re not an experiment,” Harrington says, voice a little louder than Wayne would prefer, given the circumstances. The trailer park isn’t exactly spacious. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you. I want to kiss you because I’m in love with you, how could you think—besides. This isn’t that new. I’ve kissed other guys.”

“You’ve what? Who? When?”

“Just. You know. Friends messing around. I didn’t know that made me bisexual until I talked about it with Robin but apparently, I’ve been kinda gay this whole time.”

“I’m sorry. You thought making out with your basketball buddies was…a standard heterosexual pastime?”

“Well, when you say it like that.”

“What other way is there to say it?”

“Okay,” Steve says, “I already had this conversation with Robin this morning. I don’t need to rehash it again. So I’m a little bit of an idiot. Memo received.”

“Jesus, Harrington. You just found out bisexuality was a thing this morning and now you’re here, what, asking me to be your boyfriend?”

“I mean, yeah. Ideally.”

“You don’t do anything by halves, do you.” Eddie sounds disgustingly fond.

“Eddie. I just said I love you.”

“You did,” Eddie says, high and cracked. “You did say that.”

“So if we could refocus.”

“Right.”

“I don’t expect you to say it back, but––”

“God, you really are an idiot. Of course I fucking love you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And then that’s––well, that’s probably his nephew getting his first kiss from Steve Fucking Harrington.

Wayne decides to give them to a count of thirty before interrupting, but just as he’s about to stomp his way up the stairs, Eddie says, “Sorry, sorry, I’ve never done this before.”

“Hey, no. It’s ok. Neither have I, really. But you’re crazy if you think I’m going to fuck you right now,” Steve says.

“I meant kissing. Hold on, does that mean you would be willing to fuck me later?”

Wayne winces. There are things he does not need to hear come out of his nephew’s mouth.

“Wait,” Steve interrupts, “You’ve never been kissed before? How is that possible?”

“Who would have kissed me?” Eddie hisses, “ I’m the town pariah. And until I met Robin I didn’t know any other queer people existed in Hawkins. Though apparently, I should have just joined the basketball team since you’re having orgies or whatever.”

“The first two were on the swim team,” Steve says.

“First two. How many were there?”

Steve ignores him. “And that wasn’t––you’re so hot, though. And your band has played in bigger cities. Haven’t you ever gone up to Indy to any of the bars there?”

“I need you to understand,” Eddie says, “that I am 90% bravado and 100% anxiety.”

“That’s not how percentages work.”

“Steve.”

“Sorry. Okay. Well, if this is your first kiss then I better make it good, huh?”

“Yes. That is absolutely the burden placed upon your capable shoulders should you choose to––oh.”

Eddie stops talking and doesn’t start again, though he does make a breathy little noise that Wayne takes as his cue.

He stomps up the stairs as loudly as possible, fumbling longer than necessary with the door handle, and pushes his way inside.

The boys are both shirtless, clearly in the process of shoving themselves away from each other. Eddie’s face is pink and his lips are kiss-swollen and Harrington’s back has a set of welted scratches on it that Wayne imagines are a perfect match for Eddie’s fingers.

“Well, shit,” Wayne says. He definitely should have opened the door sooner.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Eddie says.

“What the fuck else what it be?” Steve says, only sounding a little hysterical.

Except then the kid is pushing Eddie behind him and squaring up to Wayne with his jaw clenched and his head high, the discolored ring around his neck, still not yet healed, the scars down his belly, on display. Wayne is well-acquainted with the nuance of a man posturing versus a man who would gladly throw himself into a fight, even one he’s not certain he’d win. Steve Harrington is indisputably the latter.

Wayne can’t decide if he’s offended or endeared.

“Stand down, kid, I’m not going to hurt him.”

“I wouldn’t let you.”

“That is…extremely apparent.”

“Steve,” Eddie says. “It’s ok. He knows. Or. We’ve never really talked about it but.” He meets Wayne’s eyes. “He knows. It’s ok.”

Eddie pushes around him, stepping into Wayne’s open arms.

Steve watches distrustfully as Wayne wraps Eddie in a hug.

“You’re both safe here,” he says. Mostly to Steve, since he’s the one who needs to hear it. “And I’ll call up my boyfriend in Indy and have him vouch for me if you don’t believe me.”

Harrington’s expression is just as magnificent as Wayne hoped it would be.

“Your what?” Eddie shrieks.

Part 3 Here.

On AO3 Here.

Tempted to do one more from one of the kid's POVs when the kids find out. Thoughts?

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington/eddie munson #myfic #mywriting #stranger things

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sailor-aviator · 3 months

Text

By Its Cover: Chapter Three

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader (Last Name: Sinclair)

Summary: The frivolity of high society has never much interested in you. You preferred to spend your time reading, something your sisters couldn't fathom as they spent their time shopping the latest dress styles. The youngest of five children and the fourth daughter, not much was expected of you. You knew you might be married one day, but you hoped beyond hope that it would be to someone that might understand your intellectual pursuits. You begin exchanging letters with a mysterious stranger, and what's more, your older brother's rakish best friend seems to find himself in your path more and more as the season goes on. What's a girl to do? (Regency!AU)

Content Warning: Historical inaccuracies probably, Promenading, Lingering looks, Stolen glances, Yearning, Gossip, Disregard for personal space, General anxiety, General self-esteem issues, Mean words. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 3.4k

Series Masterlist || Moodboard

Promenading was a terribly boring affair as far as you were concerned. Or at least, it was when spending the time with your overly zealous older sister. Georgie had insisted on sticking close to Lord Seresin, relegating you to the back with your mother and brother. The two of them conversed amongst themselves, leaving you to your thoughts, your hands itching to find a shaded spot where you could continue to read.

You found the book to be quite riveting so far, admiring the Elizabeth Bennet’s wit and bravery as she traversed the unknown landscape of the upper class. You had laughed at her sly remarks to Mr. Darcy, and envied her close relationship with her older sister. You imagined that Lydia and Theodosia were much like them, the way they were always giggling between each other. You had wanted something like that with Georgie, but you were quick to understand that your feelings were not reciprocated. No, Georgie preferred her gossip and shopping to your books and painting.

You caught Lord Seresin’s eye as he glanced back at you. His eyes twinkled as his lips curled into a smile before giving you a quick wink. Your cheeks heated, eyes growing wide at his boldness. He grinned at your reaction, lips pressing into a firm line as he tried to hold back a laugh, instead choosing to make it appear that he was laughing at one of Georgie’s—positively awful—jokes. You shook your head, ridding your mind of any lingering thoughts about the man in front of you. You glanced around the park, noting several newly presented ladies already chatting with suitors. The pairings thus far weren’t very interesting or gossip worthy as far as you were concerned.

Your eyes continued to flit about the garden until they met deep brown ones. Your mood perked up immediately upon sight of Natasha, an eager smile breaking out across your face as she hurried towards you.

“Oh, thank God you’re here,” she breathed as she saddled up to you, linking your arm with hers. “I was beginning to think I would die of boredom.”

“It would appear you and I share one mind,” you laughed, squeezing her arm as the two of you fell in to step just in front of William and your mother. Natasha’s eyes flickered back towards them, a coy gleam in them as she looked at your brother.

“I saw that,” you whispered, a knowing look on your face as she blushed, shushing you quickly before promptly looking forward.

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about, Bug,” she stated, fighting the smile that threatened to break out across her face. You hummed, not believing her in the slightest when she peered over at you with a knowing look of her own.

“Although, I have heard some interesting tidbits about you and your sister this afternoon,” she teased, smirking as your eyes shot to hers.

“What on earth could they possibly be saying about us?” You scoffed. “The season has hardly even begun.”

“Well, what a beginning it’s been then,” she said. “The word around the Island is that a certain lady has her eye on the Duke of Austin.”

“That’s hardly newsworthy,” you sniffed, looking at your sister before shifting your gaze back to Natasha. Her eyes danced with amusement as her smirk grew bigger.

“Ah, but you haven’t heard the rest of it,” she grinned. “As it would turn out, the Duke of Austin appears to have his eyes pinned on another.”

You frowned, already not liking where this was going.

“No,” she continued. “He, in fact, has his eyes set on her sister if the whispers are to be believed.”

Your stomach did a flip, your skin suddenly feeling slightly clammy.

“That’s simply just not true,” you muttered, eyes cast toward the ground. It couldn’t be true. You weren’t nearly as good a prospect as Georgie. Sure, Georgie was prideful and snobbish at times, but she was beautiful, elegant, and sure to make a most wonderful bride to some eligible bachelor. You were none of those things. You were opinionated, stubborn, and much too quick to anger. You weren’t the type to be a graceful lady of an estate. No, you knew deep down in your heart that you would grow old in age living as a spinster on your family’s estate. Although, a secret part of you always hoped for more.

“Bug,” Natasha scowled, leaning in further as she lowered her voice so only you could hear. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“Looks at me how?” you muttered.

“Like you’re the most divine creature he’s ever had the privilege of beholding,” she smirked. You frown, irritated that you were even entertaining the, quite frankly, foolish notion that a man such as Lord Seresin, a duke no less, would ever feel anything but muddled curiosity for someone like you.

“This is ridiculous,” you hissed, moving to pull back, but Natasha stopped you with a hand on your arm.

“Is it?” She questioned, eyes glancing in front of the both of you before looking back at you. “Because from where I’m standing, the man has hardly been able to stop looking at you. Perhaps the notorious rake of the Island is ready to settle down.”

You glanced over just as Lord Seresin’s head whipped back forward, a twinge of pink to his ears as he smiled at something your sister just said. You felt a pang in your chest, uncertain and unable to pin the emotion that suddenly filled you. You pressed your lips firmly together as you continued your walk in silence.

“Excuse me, Miss Sinclair.”

Your little party stopped as Mr. Darnstead came up to stand in front of your sister. You saw the way Georgiana’s lips curved coyly, the glance she cast to her right as she greeted the man in front of her.

“Hello, Mr. Darnstead,” she purred. “How are you enjoying the weather this fine day?”

Natasha squeezed your arm once more to get your attention. You turned your head to see her apologetic smile as she stepped back with a sigh.

“My mama is calling for me,” she frowned, gesturing to the woman in question who stood by the pond with a young man. Natasha’s mother had a look of eagerness as she waved for her daughter, and you gave your best friend a sympathetic nod.

“Good luck,” you whispered, squeezing her hand before watching her go. You startled as William stepped up beside you, a furrow to his brow as he watched Natasha’s retreating figure.

“Is that Lord Anson?” He asked, sparing you a glance. You scrunched your nose at him before shrugging.

“I have no idea,” you answered, a sly smile curling at your lips. “Why do you wish to know?”

William turned to you with an owlish blink that had you snickering into your hand. He scowled down at you, bumping your shoulder with his as he fought the smile that threatened to spread out across his face.

“That’s enough out of you,” he admonished playfully, earning a giggle from you.

It was quieter by the fountain that stood guarded by the giant hydrangea bushes and green hedges. You were the only one to venture to this part of the park, most everyone keeping closer to the main walkway where they were sure to be seen by all of society and any potential matches.

You enjoyed the quiet, truly you did. The chirping of birds and hum of insects complimenting the steady trickle of the water in the fountain. It was a nice, little corner that offered you some semblance of privacy while still being in full view of your ever watchful mother, though she seemed more preoccupied with Georgie and her many suitors that had come flooding out of the woodwork than her youngest daughter. You were grateful for the reprieve, sneaking away quietly to try and find some time to continue reading your book. You were making steady progress, admiring Elizabeth Bennet’s refusal of Mr. Collins when accepting would have been not only beneficial, but expected.

Your mother and brother seemed determined for you to marry, but you knew it was a lost cause. No respectable man of the Island would want to marry the strange, youngest daughter of the noble Sinclair family—especially when there seemed to be constant whispers about her ineptitude as a lady.

You sat perched on the edge of the fountain, feeling the mist from the water on your skin, a shiver running up your spine at the coolness of the water. You set your book down, standing to make your way towards the last remaining blossoms of the hydrangeas. You were happy to see them given how late in the year it was. Your family’s estate had a couple of bushes in its garden, but they were kept pruned short unlike the plants before you. The bush toward over you, making you feel small by comparison.

Your hand rose to cradle one of the last group of blossoms, smiling at the bright, blue petals. The ladies of the Island seemed to favor the bright pink and noble purple blossoms more, but you had always had a fondness for the blue. You leaned forward to sniff the sweet smell, humming with a smile.

“There you are.”

You jumped, whirling around to come face to face with Lord Seresin. He put his hands up, an amused smile on his lips as he looked at you.

“Woah,” he chuckled, letting his arms fall back to his sides. “Easy. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“You didn’t,” you lied, frowning and looking away.

“Right,” he said quietly, shoving a hand into his pocket. “I thought I might find you over here.”

You hummed, fingers toying with the hydrangea blossoms once more. You weren’t sure how to talk to him. He was just a boy you had once known before last night, a friend of your brothers who used to carry you around on his back across the fields of your family’s estate. A boy who always indulged you, much to the annoyance of William. He always had a smile for you or a treat of some kind. You had been sad when he stopped coming around.

Now he was a handsome, young Duke of marrying age. You were not blind to the stares he received from the ladies of the Island—and even some of the men—as he had walked through the park with your family. He had become sturdier since his youth, and the very thought had heat rising to your cheeks.

As if he could read your mind, his lips curled into a smirk, and he took several steps towards you, bridging the gap that had kept your nerves at bay.

“You always did like the flowers,” he mused, his fingers coming up to rest against the same blossoms. He was so close, you could feel his body heat radiating off of him, the smell of his cologne competing with the sweet perfume of the flowers. You took a deep breath, lips parting as you took in his scent, eyelashes fluttering as it overwhelmed you.

“You used to bring them to me all the time,” he continued, eyes softening at the memories.

“Did I?” You asked, cursing how breathy your voice sounded.

“Oh, yes,” he grinned, plucking a blossom off the bush and handing it to you. “That and whatever creature you managed to dig up.”

You took the flower from his hands, cheeks becoming hotter at his teasing and the way his fingers brushed against yours.

“Your grace,” you started, but Lord Seresin frowned.

“Jake,” he corrected.

“Jake,” you sighed, grimacing. “Perhaps we should rejoin the others.”

“Why?” he asked with a frown. You pursed your lips, eyes flickering down to the flower in your hand. Anything to escape his intense green ones.

“I think it would be wise in order to avoid scandal,” you murmured, eyes darting towards the main pathway where several of high society’s elite strolled.

“I didn’t know you were so concerned with the thoughts of high society,” he smirked, leaning closer. You leaned away, eyes wide as his breath fanned over your face.

“Why would I not be?” You challenged, brow furrowing. “I am a lady of one of the noble families. To ruin my reputation is to ruin all of theirs as well.”

“You think I’m out to ruin your reputation?” He asked, smirk faltering. You stared at him for a second, mind reeling at his proximity and unsure of how to respond.

“What are your intentions with my sister?” You blurted out. Jake balked, confusion spreading out across his face.

“What?”

“Your intentions with my sister,” you continued, meeting his eyes with faux confidence. “You have quite the reputation, Lord Seresin. I would hate to see her caught up in it.”

All traces of mirth were gone from his face by the time you finished speaking. A dark glimmer in his eyes had you hesitating, but you stubbornly stood your ground, waiting for his answer.

“And what, pray tell, is my reputation, Miss Sinclair?” He challenged, a growl in his voice that most certainly did not make you feel flustered. Your mind raced back to the words Natasha and William had both spoken to you.

“They say you’re a rake,” you declared, lifting your chin. “Rumor has it that you’d rather spend your time with a different lady every night than settle down. That you spend your nights drinking and gambling until the sun rises. If you mean to court my sister, that will have to stop.”

Hurt flashed in his eyes. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced with a cold veneer, his jaw clenching.

“I’m surprised you of all people would listen to the wretched gossip that everyone seems so fond of,” he said coolly, standing up straight and taking a step back from you as he adjusted his jacket. “Given how you yourself are the subject of some. Just a silly little girl with her head in the clouds and no understanding of the world around her. You’ll be lucky to find a match at all is what they say about you.”

The hot sting of tears prickled at the back of your eyes. Of course you weren’t a stranger to the things people whispered about you, only a fool would be. But in that moment, the image of the sweet boy who entertained you all those years ago is shattered.

You felt your lower lip wobble, and the cold look in Jake’s eyes crumbles as it’s replaced with one of regret.

“Lady Bug, I-” He started, reaching a hand out to you, but you jerked back. You gave him one last look, schooling your features as you rushed past him.

“Excuse me,” you sniffled, cursing as your voice trembled. You didn’t look back, making a beeline towards where your mother stood.

“Mama,” you called, the older woman turning to face you. Concern pulled at her brow and lips as she looked at you.

“Whatever is the matter, dearest?” She asked, cupping your face in her hands as she looked you over. You cleared your throat as you glanced to the ground.

“I’m suddenly not feeling well,” you lied. “Might I take the coach home?”

Your mother hesitated, and you could feel his eyes on you as she glanced up at him.

“I suppose that’s alright,” she said slowly, her hands coming down to rest on your shoulders. “Just have the driver come straight back once you’re home.”

You gave her a tight-lipped smile, ducking your head as you scurried away towards the entrance to the park.

You heaved a sigh as you stared out your window. You hadn’t stopped thinking about your exchange with Lord Seresin. Why had he been so upset with you? You were protecting your sister from heartbreak, warning him that the opinions of him will affect her too should he choose her as his wife. Was he angry because they had come from the lips of a woman all considered to be strange? Or perhaps it was because they were spoken aloud at all.

A knock sounded on your door, and you turned at the sound.

“Come in,” you called, thoughts still swirling inside your head. Your maid, Nora, poked her head in, a small smile directed your way.

“Good afternoon, miss,” she greeted, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. “I wanted to let you know that dinner will be served in about one hour.”

“Thank you, Nora,” you smiled, but the action seemed forced. She hesitated for a moment, flinching as you gave her a puzzled look.

“Your mother wanted me to remind you that the Duke of Austin will be joining your family this evening,” she twittered nervously.

Your heart sank, the thought of seeing him again so soon filling you with dread. Perhaps you could feign illness and stay in your room with your book-

You lurched to your feet, Nora giving a startled cry at your sudden movement. You scurried around the room, moving piles and throwing pillows in a bid to find it.

“What are you looking for, miss?” The maid asked, coming up behind you. You turned to look at her, despair coloring your features.

“My book!” You exclaimed. “The one Mr. Mitchell let me borrow! I must have left it at the park, oh no.”

“You might still have time to go back and get it,” Nora offered. “You could be back with just enough time to get ready for dinner.”

“I’d be cutting it close,” you murmured, chewing on your bottom lip. The sky was beginning to darken, and you huffed out a breath.

“We must go quickly,” you decided. Nora grabbed your cape as you hurried out of your room. She chased after you, wrapping the cape around you as you exited the house. The driver was blessedly still by the stagecoach, and you signaled to him that you were in need of his services.

“I need to get to the park,” you told him, clambering into the coach. “As quickly as you can.”

The ride was quick, but silent, the coach jostling every now and then. You thanked the driver once you had stopped, gathering your skirts and running towards the fountain. You were out of breath by the time you reached it, panting as you looked to the spot you had set it down at earlier. Your stomach did a flip as you looked, the book nowhere in sight. You did two laps around the fountain before letting out a groan.

“Blast it all,” you cursed, hiding your face in your hands. How were you going to explain this to Mr. Mitchell?

With a sigh of defeat, you trudged back to the coach, your driver giving you a sympathetic look as he helped you inside. The ride back felt slower despite using the same route as before. When the coach stopped in front of your home, you thanked the driver once more before trudging inside. You heard voices coming from the parlor, and you knew you’d have to move quickly unless you wanted to hear another lecture from your mother about minding the time of others.

The family butler, Mr. Stevens, approached you.

“Miss,” he greeted with a slight bow of his head. “A parcel was left for you earlier this evening.”

“A parcel?” You frowned, shrugging off your cape. “Whoever from?”

“I’m not sure, miss,” Mr. Stevens grimaced. “It was left at the door with a note on top of it.”

Mr. Stevens gestured toward the end table pressed up against the wall. You walked over to it, brow furrowed as you lifted the wrapped package, the note falling to the side. You tore at the paper, eyes lighting up once you saw what was underneath.

“My book!” You exclaimed, relief flooding you as you clutched it to your chest. Your eyes darted towards the note that lay on the table, your name in neat scrawl printed across the front. You set the book down, picking up the paper gingerly as you flipped it open. Your eyes darted across the writing, widening before you could fully process what you were reading.

What on earth?

A/N: A big shoutout to not only Ruthie, but @sorchathered for helping me make concrete decisions on this story! My works wouldn't be what they are without the help and ever present ears of my friends to help me through and bounce ideas off of.

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. If you would like to be notified on when I post updates, please follow my side blog (@sailoraviator-library) and turn on post notifications! My work is cross posted on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator. Until next time!

#bic #by its cover #regency!au #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman #hangman top gun #top gun hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman fanfiction

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ovaryacted · 7 months

Note

what about ID Leon (feel like he’d have been a total fuckboy atp as a sort of phase) but what ab he always comes back to you and after a heated argument he fucks you as he’s pressing your face into the mattress while you're crying and clutching the sheets as you’re begging him to let you finish again 🤭

MDNI/18+. NSFW. | cw: Leon is ooc. Possible toxic relationship.

Ooooooo, you’re cooking here anon. Even though I personally don’t headcanon or view Leon as a fuckboy (because let’s face it, that man is not getting laid for the life of him I mean…), let’s go ahead and say he has an ego and it is reflected in his shitty communication skills (cause of anxiety and trauma womp womp).

It was a heated moment where Leon accidentally raised his voice at you, mentioning something about not listening to orders on a mission. It was a close call and you had ventured off without Leon’s support, and he kept calm until you were both back home. It first started as a regular conversation until it deviated from Leon not being able to keep you within arm’s reach, to you being too individualistic. You knew why he did this, he was often too worried for his good and you’d always remind him that you could handle yourself even if he didn’t believe you.

“You have to listen to me when we’re out there. Do you know what could’ve happened or do you just not give a shit?”, Leon huffed out a breath, his arms crossing over his chest and shooting daggers at you.

“Well, I’m not you Leon, not all of us think the way you do. The sooner you accept it the better!”, you grew more defiant, more angry for God knows what. The bitterness you felt from Leon always being gone to never listening to you on missions started to fester out of control.

The argument only got more intense, turning into a yelling match between the both of you. Hurtful words were said, things neither of you meant, and with a cruel “Go fuck yourself Leon”, you watched him walk out the door and slam it behind him.

You pissed him off, he pissed you off, but there was nobody else who understood your relationship the way you both did. This wasn’t the first time you two argued either, often happening after you were both stressed out and didn’t find a proper release for it. You couldn’t blame Leon entirely, always being forced to do the government’s bidding and having limited freedom would put anybody on the verge of a breakdown. Being each other’s vices also didn’t help, so it wasn’t surprising when you found Leon knocking on your front door with furrowed eyebrows close to a day later.

He smelled like whiskey, not too much to the point where it was dizzying, but enough to let you know he was drinking. Leon wasn’t there to talk, you knew that much, stuck in a never-ending cycle of adrenaline and unresolved issues.

That was how you found yourself in this position now, face down ass up on the mattress. The things that happened after you welcomed Leon back into the apartment and closed the door behind him were a blur. You remembered him kissing you hard on the mouth, walking you backward towards the bedroom and yanking on your clothes. He wasn’t gentle, not entirely, but when he pulled you forward by the leg as his mouth gravitated towards your cunt, you couldn’t stop him. You didn’t want to.

“Leon…please…”, you could barely speak, barely think, your brain was melting and spilling out of your ears along with the rest of you. You couldn’t bring yourself to care about the consequences and how this might seem. Always fighting with this man just to end up back in bed with him was something you should be embarrassed about. But with the way he was pummeling into you, it was easier to forgive him.

“Just shut up”, he muttered under his breath, fucking into you harshly from behind and focusing on the way your walls pulsed around his cock. He was relentless, moving in an aggressive push-and-pull that hadn’t stopped since he crossed the threshold of your front door. The back of his hand grabbed onto your head, pushing your face against the mattress and making you release a muffled whimper.

You hid your face in the bed, tears slipping down your cheeks and your fingers digging into the sheets. Maybe this was what you deserved, to be tested constantly so Leon could come back home, back to you.

“Quit your fucking whining, I’ll let you cum”, Leon didn’t stop, knowing you were on the verge of cumming all over him for the umpteenth time. No matter how mad he was at you at the moment or how badly you pissed him off, he would let you cum however many times you could.

Sometimes you hated him for it, how he could play your body like a violin and pull every string taut until it snapped. He drained you, he stressed you out, but you still gave yourself willingly every time because that’s what made him stay.

This was how he liked you. Pliant and taking what he had to give. That was all you could do, because no matter what, Leon always came back to you.

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #ovaryacted asks

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unoislazy · 11 months

Text

The Outsider

(Part 1)

Hiccup Haddock x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: You wound up on the shores of Berk after something… had happened to you. Thankfully someone had found you and reported your presence to the Chief.

————————————————————

Life on Berk was running just as smooth as ever. Well, other than the occasional fire spreading here and there, Vikings roughhousing over the smallest inconvenience, it was as peaceful as an island full of Vikings and dragons could be. That was until one random day, you washed up on shore.

Of course you weren��t noticed right away but it certainly didn’t take long for someone to eventually stumble across you and your tattered piece of driftwood lying helplessly on the sand. You were in pretty bad condition, you hadn’t eaten in days and had several visible injuries that would cause further problems if they weren’t dealt with.

Thankfully the person who had found you knew to bring you the Gothi, the village healer, as well as informing the chief of your unannounced arrival.

You certainly stirred conversations among the Vikings as news spread quickly of your presence. Many murmurs of disapproval circulated as many people believed it would be a repeat of what had happened the last time someone had wound up stranded on the shores of Berk.

Now you lay in Gothis house, on a cot she had set out for you as she tended to your wounds. You were still very much unconscious so you had no idea you had gained some visitors. If you were awake you might have been honored to know one of those visitors was none other than the chief of the village himself, Hiccup Haddock.

Hiccup and his very close friend, who had insisted she’d come along, Astrid Hofferson. Hiccup and Astrid had a somewhat complicated relationship over the years, having dated for a little while when they were younger but decided to break it off because of their differing visions for the future. Thankfully they worked out their issues and managed to still remain very close friends. Astrid often lended a hand in any errands Hiccup often got overwhelmed by, and they worked well together.

Now here they were, standing in front of your unconscious body, questioning what on Earth they were going to do.

“They look to be in pretty bad shape.” Hiccup said, his finger tapping his chin as you looked down at you. His eyes very carefully took in the intricate details of your face, trying to discern whether he’s seen you before. Maybe you were a dragon trapper?

He then looked at your hair, the color and texture not ringing any bells for him. He then looked at your eyes, well more accurately, your eyelids. They lay still and motionless as you continued to sleep which he found quite odd, but then again he figured you were too weak to even dream at this point. Although, he found a sense of curiosity when it came to your eyes, what did they look like? What color were they? Were they pretty?

Stupid questions to ask in a situation such as this.

“Well who knows how long they were out at sea.” Astrid finally replied. It seemed as if she too was looking over your features, not recognizing you in the slightest. She shook her head as if she was answering her own question. Hiccup then let out a sigh, knowing his next point was not going to go over well with her.

“They’re going to need some place to stay while they heal.”

“What?”

Called it.

“I said they’re going to need some place to stay.” Hiccup repeated, as he looked over to the blonde haired girl who looked as if she just watched Hiccup get carried off by a dragon and returned in a matter of seconds right before her eyes.

“You can’t be serious.” She began, the amount of shock evident in her voice suggested she was almost disappointed that Hiccup would even think of such an idea.

She continued, “What do you mean stay? You can’t possibly be thinking about keeping them here.”

“And what if I am?” The man argued, at least attempting to stand his ground. It wasn’t too often he was taken very seriously when he made decisions, but his stubbornness usually won out in the end.

“Uh hello, do you not remember what happened last time we helped someone who wound up stranded on our shores?” Astrid questioned, her hands planted firmly on her hips as if she was a stern mother scolding their child. Hiccup was usually quite a smart leader, but in instances like this, his morals often clouded his judgment.

In Astrid’s eyes, putting others' needs before your own can be very selfless, but when you put someone else’s needs in front of your own, as well as potentially everyone else on Berk? That’s where she starts to have a problem.

“I hear you Astrid but we can’t believe that everyone who winds up on our shore is out to get us, besides look at them. Who would injure themselves for the sake of taking over the village?” He asked genuinely, gesturing towards you. Thinking back to when Heather had arrived, sure she came in an overturned boat, but at least she had a boat. You had come on a literal piece of driftwood and nothing more. If someone was trying to use you as bait, they certainly weren’t prioritizing the success rate of you even arriving on Berk in the first place.

“I don’t know Hiccup, maybe someone who’s really committed? Maybe someone who has no other choice?” Astrid argued.

“If they have no other choice then we have to help them.” He responded. It was at this point Astrid was beginning to see that Hiccup had already made up his mind and arguing with him was going to be the same as arguing with a brick wall.

And yet she persisted.

“Hiccup, we can't put our noses into everyone else’s business, if they’re in trouble that’s their problem. We don’t always have to get involved.” She tried, but Hiccup's gaze was stern and unwavering. It was clear that he truly believed in his cause and he was going to stick beside it.

“We do when they wind up on our island Astrid.”

Astrid sighed, turning away from Hiccup for a moment as she gave the option a thought. Once she turned back towards him she raised her hands in defeat.

“Okay, alright. But I’m still going to heavily question them the exact moment they wake up.” She joked a bit, earning a small chuckle from Hiccup as he turned back to face you. Normally when Berk had a guest, he would offer his house to stay in.

However, maybe Astrid was right to at least be a little cautious this time so he decided against it. Maybe it was best for them to stay here, it would also give Gothi time to watch over them to make sure they’re healing properly. Once they heal, then they can discuss the living arrangements.

“Guess all we do now is wait.” Hiccup sighed before finally looking away from you and then back to Astrid. “It could be days until they wake up, let us know if anything happens.” Hiccup requested, now looking down at Gothi who gave him a smile and a nod. With that confirmation, Hiccup said his goodbyes and began to walk outside, but not before taking one last look at you.

He had convinced himself that he kept looking at you to see if he recognized you and for no other reason at all.

Three days had passed by and you still had not woken up. Hiccup and Astrid had been by several times, a few times together, but usually on their own time. You wounds were making very slow healing progress but you were still not receiving the proper amounts of food.

It was beginning to get worrying.

That was until randomly around noon on the third day, your eyes shot open and you quickly rose from your cot, ultimately regretting your decision as you became very dizzy almost immediately. You tried to steady yourself by proposing your arms up behind you, but eventually gravity seemed to have taken full control of your body and dragged you right back down to the cot.

Once the dizziness had dissipated a bit, you looked around at your very new surroundings. The last you remembered was… well you couldn’t quite remember really. You could hear the faint voice of a man in your memory, but you couldn’t place who it could have come from.

As you continued to look around the very homey little cottage-like house you were now in, you eventually noticed a very short woman walking towards you with a bowl in hand. As she neared you she had to continue to shoo away several little lizard type animals that continued to try and swarm her to steal the food.

It took you a moment before you realized those weren’t just lizards, they were dragons.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you watched the woman handle the beasts with such care and affection.

Great, you happened to wind up in some crazy woman’s cottage in the middle of who knows where.

You carefully sat back up, steadying yourself to prevent you from getting dizzy again as you looked towards the woman.

“Where am I?” You asked, but your voice was hoarse and scratchy from not having been used in days. The woman merely stared at you with a smile as she held the bowl of what looked to be like soup, towards you, urging you to eat.

You shook your head, trying to get her to answer before you asked again, “Where am I?”. In return she shook her head, now practically shoving the soup in your face. You finally took the soup from her, hoping that now she would answer you, but instead she turned right back around and began working on something else.

You simply stared in confusion before looking around you for some way out. That’s when you saw it, the door. Sure you couldn’t really run but the woman seemed largely occupied. Besides, you could argue you just needed fresh air.

Easy.

Or so you thought.

You carefully put your feet onto the ground, the floorboards creaking beneath you as you slowly put your weight down. You carefully began to push yourself upwards into a standing position, occasionally wobbling here and there but you were managing. You almost felt like some kind of sea creature learning how to use their new legs. You hugged the wall as you slowly but surely made your way towards the door, swinging it open and walking out.

You didn’t know what to expect, but you were hoping to see a village of some sort, maybe even a large woodland area, but you quickly realized you had been very mistaken. Oh sure, there was a village, but it was currently several hundred feet below the house you were currently standing in.

“Why in god's name would they build this so high up?” You wondered to yourself, and just as you had managed to stick your head even the slightest bit over the edge to peak below, you heard a loud roar from an animal you had never heard before.

You scrambled away from the edge, afraid that you may have upset some sort of creature that lived under the weird balcony that was a part of this house. It didn’t take you long to realize that the roar you had heard did not come from below, but instead it had come from above. Your head shot up to look for the source of the noise and your eyes widened as you made eye contact with a…

“Night Fury?” You shrieked, well as well as you could've with such a broken voice. With all your might you brought yourself back up and scrambled back into the house, slamming the door behind you. Suddenly this woman didn’t seem crazy because you could’ve sworn you saw someone riding that Night Fury. You’d have to be insane to even think of doing something like that.

Maybe sitting down and just having your soup was the best option right now, besides you were probably just hallucinating. After all, Night Furies went extinct years ago… right?

You sat down, finally beginning to take in some of the very warm meal that the strange woman had prepared for you, and you couldn’t lie it was pretty tasty. Well tasty in Viking terms of food. The warmth of the meal actually began to calm you down a slight bit before you heard a knock at the door that you had previously slammed, followed by a slightly concerned and confused voice.

“Uh, hey Gothi? Are we able to come in, didn’t mean to scare your guest like that.” The voice said from the other side of the door. The only thing you could really tell from it was that it was a young man. You then looked towards the woman, who you assumed to be Gothi, as she hobbled over to the door, now opening it.

Once the door had been fully opened, you locked eyes with the man now standing in the doorway and it immediately clicked. You weren’t hallucinating, that man was actually riding a dragon. And no one else was reacting to this?!

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kingofpopmj · 4 months

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Just Promise Baby, You'll Love Me Forevermore

Summary: Michael and Y/N take part in an interview together.

Pairing: Michael Jackson x Actress!Reader

Warnings: fluff, Fluff and more FLUFF Requested: Yes

"Hello everyone, we're having some last minute lighting issues. We should be good to go in a few minutes. Please stand by." A tall man with long brown hair and a headset announced to the room.

The interviewer stood alone tapping her foot, a young twenty-something brunette woman. She had become a household name overnight because of this very interview, her first high level project. She wore a figure hugging navy blue pantsuit with light makeup. She was nervously checking her clipboard every few seconds, scribbling down last minute notes.

"Hi, I'm Y/N, it's very nice to meet you. Thank you so much for being here." Y/N's sweet voice filled the air, introducing herself as if everyone didn't already know her name, but it said a lot about her character. She gracefully made her way around the room kindly making conversation with each person present. Her undivided attention was given to each individual, nothing less, she hung on their every word, asking thoughtful questions in return and in those few moments they were putty in her hands.

"Hello, how are you? I'm Michael. Thank you for taking part in this project with us." Michael Jackson—THE Michael Jackson followed a few paces behind Y/N, his version of walking appeared more like gliding. Eventually, he caught up with Y/N, securing a firm arm around her, his thumb rubbing circles in her hip. They continued greeting everyone and they swept them off their feet as a team. A beautiful, kind-hearted team. It was truly indescribable— like watching two mythical creatures prove their existence right before our eyes.

It was overwhelming— in the most amazing way possible. The star power aside, they seemed very normal. The two of them genuinely enjoyed meeting everyone, didn't leave anyone out and remembered every name. Michael stole glances, numerous lingering stares at his beloved. The way he looked at her, you could feel his emotions, he didn't just think she was beautiful— she was his everything. He didn't laugh or smile until he saw that she was doing the same. The protectiveness was evident. He wasn't jealous or threatened. He was cautious and confident. The way he watched over her wasn't possessive, it was sweet, like she was as vital to him as his own beating heart.

"Let's get our stars set with microphones." A short woman shuffled over to Michael and Y/N, guiding them over to their seats. They were going through the process of being wired up and I couldn't help but to admire their carefree nature.

They stood in front of one another, pulling silly faces at each other, giggling and enjoying themselves. They somehow managed to make this room feel like a home and everyone in it extended family.

"That works. Daryl, thank you." Y/N smiled, placing her hand on the assistants shoulder, the redness taking over his face and growing deeper by the second as he scurried off.

The couple shared a moment, whispering to one another with coquettish smiles. Michael moved to stand in front of her as she took her seat. He removed his coat without a second thought, Y/N waving her hands in the air as if to reject the gesture, but he paid no mind. He carefully placed the coat across her thighs, protecting her from wandering eyes and cameras. A tender kiss to her lips before he walked off for a moment.

"Hello, I'm Leslie, I'll be conducting the interview today. I can't believe you're here! This is insane! This is so cool!" She became very giddy, barely catching herself from continuing, Y/N sweetly matched her enthusiasm. "I mean, it's such an honor to meet you. I'm a huge fan. You're so talented." She spoke quickly, her eyes shining brightly with excitement. "You're even more beautiful in person. Thank you for agreeing to this and selecting me to be your interviewer. I know this interview is the first of its kind. I'm incredibly grateful to be part of it."

Y/N listened closely, nodding her head, following along, silently studying the woman before her, then standing up and leaning in for a sweet embrace. Leslie was visibly losing her mind, Y/N shared words of encouragement as she held her. She's sweet, astonishingly delightful and humble.

“Thank you so much. Leslie, you’re very kind. I appreciate you taking us up on the offer. We took time to watch your interviews and were blown away by your style. We knew immediately you were the one we wanted to create this with. We're really excited."

"I still can't believe you two know who I am. I'm so nervous. I apologize in advance if I become even more of a blubbering mess when Mr. Jackson joins us. I know he's your—"

"Oh, please call me Michael. It's lovely to finally meet you." A delicate voice sounded from behind Leslie. Y/N watched as he made his way to the seat next to her, a smile on her face and a light blush across her cheeks. Michael held his hand out to greet Leslie, but she was frozen.

"I'm— Wow— Okay." She stuttered. "This is real. This is happening. Michael, it's great to meet you. I'm a huge fan of you. Both of you. I'm actively struggling to process all of this." She giggled as she gestured toward the two celebrities in front of her. "I— wow. This is mind boggling."

"Thank you. We feel the exact same way. We admire your work as well." Michael said with soft laughter, as Leslie appeared to forget how to breathe. He then directed his attention to Y/N.

"You grow more beautiful by the second. My love, how do you feel, are you comfortable?" He kissed her cheek, gently resting his hand on top of hers. Michael made a habit of asking her that question throughout their relationship. If for any reason she didn't feel safe in a space, no explanation was needed, just a yes or a no and Michael would whisk her away. He knew firsthand how this industry operated and he intended to protect her at all costs.

"You're such a flirt. I’m doing just fine. Thank you honey." She giggled, hiding behind her long hair.

"The two minutes we had to part in the hallway were dreadful.” Michael pouted clutching his chest for dramatic effect.

"Those two minutes were nearly unsurvivable." Y/ N sweetly agreed while caressing his cheek.

It was beautiful to watch them interact in a somewhat private setting. The way they love one another was so authentic, so intimate, but not far enough to be uncomfortable for those in their company. It was real. They're just two people, with unfathomable talent, insane lifestyles but deeply in love and undeniably their true selves.

"We're ready to go!" A man's voice echoed through the studio.

Leslie nodded, taking a few deep breaths and glancing over her notes one last time.

"Three, Two, One." The cameraman spoke, pointing over to Leslie, signaling her to begin her introduction.

"Good evening, I'm Leslie Johnson, thank you for joining us tonight. Tonight is vastly different from our usual programming because tonight you are witnessing history in the making. Our first ever live interview with undoubtedly the two greatest stars this generation has ever seen. They are gifted with talent you only see once in a lifetime. These two phenomenons aren't only loved and respected for their craft, but also the positive impact they make to protect the earth and all of humanity. They have gracefully taken over the business and they are just getting started. Please help me in welcoming our guests for tonight, as if further introduction is needed, the people's sweetheart, Miss Y/N Y/L/N and the one and only, Mister Michael Jackson." She held her smile as the camera fanned out, Y/N and Michael now on screen.

"Thank you for having us Leslie." Michael spoke up for the both of them.

"Thank you both for making this production what it is. I must add that 100% of the proceeds for tonights event are being graciously donated to the charities of our guests choosing." The entire crew behind the cameras began cheering. Michael smiled, covering his face slightly at the scene in front of him. Y/N, reached over holding his hand, smiling ear to ear as she admired him. She helped calm his nerves and soon enough he wasn’t shielding his smile.

"Let's get started!" Leslie clapped. "I'll start with a question for Michael, you've been in this industry since you were five years old, there is so much pressure in your chosen profession, with the mass hysteria that follows, how do you preserve who you are and remain so humble?"

"That's a great question." He spoke softly, shifting in his seat, then continuing. "My upbringing plays an important role in that, my values and morals were something instilled in me at a very young age. As I’ve grown up in this industry, as you pointed out, I witnessed many great artists and their careers. I knew early on what I wanted to do and how I wanted to accomplish it, so watching those that came before me helped to navigate through tough times. It's a difficult lifestyle, but I remind myself daily how thankful I am for the gifts god has blessed me with and the opportunities he's allowed me to experience. Also, it helps to surround yourself with beautiful people who you admire and who help you grow in ways that you never imagined possible. I'm very blessed." A visible warmth took over his cheeks as he very bluntly referred to his girlfriend sitting next to him.

"Lovely, it's amazing to see how you handle everything thrown at you. It's clear that you have a beautiful heart and being in your presence it's overwhelming because of how genuine you are. It's difficult to wrap our minds around it, because you don't let the fame get to your head. It's admirable. I would like to know, Y/N, how you feel, is there anything you would like to add?"

"Michael is one of a kind. All his talent aside, Michael the person is so incredibly caring, hysterical, gentle and thoughtful. I feel that's why people fall in love with him. They hear his music, they see him perform and it's so magical that you want to know how it came to be, you want to understand the real person on a deeper level. When you dig deeper you find this soft-spoken, intelligent, compassionate and crazy handsome man. To fall in love with him is inevitable." As Y/N spoke, Michael watched her intently. He worshipped her, the love struck look on his face and you just knew, you could feel him falling more in love with her with each passing second.

"That sounds like you're speaking from experience." Leslie joked. "Y/N, you made your acting debut as a toddler, though you didn't have many speaking lines in your first film, you managed to capture the hearts of people all around the world. My question is, how have you managed to gracefully grow into the young woman before us today and still have a firm hold on our hearts?"

"My guess is as good as yours." She giggled, tucking her hair behind her ear. "l'd say, I did my best with every opportunity I was blessed with. Although it was difficult at times, I focused on protecting who I was and who I wanted to be away from the spotlight. I was lucky enough to be surrounded by a team that protected my privacy to the best of their abilities. This helped me to have the most normal of a childhood I could, but unfortunately, I still missed out on a lot. I shared most of my life, whether I wanted to or was forced to, the media can be very invasive at times. However, I've tried to make the best out of every situation, so I think that's something that people related to and also, many people feel as though they've grown up with me."

“Yes, I can't imagine how difficult it must’ve been to deal with grown men chasing you around with cameras at such a young age." Leslie responded with a hint of a frown as she processed Y/N’s explanation.

"Now, it's just me she has to deal with." Michael surprisingly perked up, making camera noises with his mouth and holding an imaginary camera. Y/N laughed uncontrollably, her shoulders shaking as she held her stomach. Michael sat up straighter than before with a triumphant grin on his face, proud of himself for making her laugh.

"She has the best laugh, doesn’t she?" Michael gushed, watching adoringly as Y/N tried to compose herself.

"That she does." Leslie smirked, enjoying watching Michael become more comfortable. "This next question is for both of you. You're two of the most recognizable faces in the world, everyone is curious, how you manage to go out and have a peaceful day or night out on the town?"

"It's definitely a challenge. There is definitely intense planning that goes into anything we do. Thankfully, we both have incredible security teams, so they join forces for us when we want to get out and explore together." Y/N responded quickly.

"We've accepted that if were out in public we will never truly be alone. Privacy is out of the question, which we've made our peace with. We don't mind meeting fans, conversing with locals, that’s not a problem. They are always very kind and respectful. Paparazzi on the other hand are a different story. They add a layer of uncertainty in the air and they can be very aggressive. If they just calmed down and gave us a bit of personal space we could all coexist peacefully." Michael added.

"I'm glad you brought that up Michael, you gave me the perfect segue to my next question. It's well known that photographers and paparazzi can become very intense when trying to capture a shot. Y/N, there was an incident last month when you attended the Grammy Awards with Michael. There was a massive commotion that took place on the red carpet. Many theories have been circulating the media, which purposely paint the two of you in a negative light. I feel that due to the nature of the issue you two should get the opportunity to tell your side of the story. The truth. Would one or both of you like to answer this and set the record straight?"

Y/N appeared to grow more nervous as the question left Leslie’s mouth. She tucked her hair behind her ear and shifted her gaze over to Michael, who was already looking back at her.

"Leslie, there are people that push boundaries that simply shouldn’t be pushed." Michael began, shaking his head softly, enveloping Y/N's hand in both of his. "That night, there were a few photographers that were screaming louder than the others, really nasty things, specifically towards my lady. We did our best to drown that out until it became physical. Y/N endured bruises down her arm and back from being aggressively grabbed at, so I had no choice but to step in. On top of that, they attempted to photograph up her dress, which is just despicable. I did what needed to be done to keep her safe. I will not apologize for that."

"It was a terrifying experience, the backlash that followed was so unexpected and hurtful." Y/N's demeanor growing more guarded as she thought of how to answer. "I never thought something like that could happen. Michael did get into a bit of a physical altercation, which has been completely taken out of context as well. Although he was very upset he still attempted to diffuse the situation using his words, but he wasn’t given much of a choice. In the end, he protected me and I'm lucky he was there." Michael followed every motion of her lips intently with a small smirk on his lips.

“Michael, I have to say what we’re all thinking, who knew you had such a mean right hook.” Leslie chuckled. "Thank you for such honest words. I empathize deeply with what you were subjected to. I’m glad you have such an amazing partner. You two complement each other beautifully. I just have to ask, everyone is curious, since Michael is in the music industry and Y/N is in the film industry, how did the two of you meet?"

“Well, this man is sneaky let me tell you.” The smile on Y/N’s face, squeezing her eyes nearly shut. “So, Michael had his people contact mine to plan a meeting of some sort. He insisted he wanted me in a music video—”

“Babe, you’re forgetting a very important detail. We had met at the Oscars the night before and she basically asked me on a date—”

“Oh, you are exaggerating!”

“You said, and I quote, ‘I can’t wait to see you again.’ with a very flirtatious wink.” Michael reasoned, shifting in his seat to face her.

“You showered me with compliments Mr. Jackson. Within five minutes of meeting one another he told me it wasn’t until he met me that he believed in love.”

“And I was telling the truth.”

“And I was flirting.” She winked at him, causing his face to turn a bright shade of red.

“I guess it’s safe to say there was a mutual interest between the two of you. Will we ever see Y/N star in one of your music videos?”

“You know it’s something I’d love to create. I mean she has inspired a lot of my writing process these days. It seems fitting that my muse be in a video or two or three..” Michael’s voice becoming more playful as he tried to conceal his smirk.

“Y/N, how do you feel hearing you’re his muse? Would you be interested in starring alongside Michael in a film?” Leslie questioned, keeping the conversation moving.

“I’m flattered. It’s very flattering.” Y/N’s hand pressed against her cheek as she tried not to giggle uncontrollably. Michael licked his lips as he watched the effect his words had on her. “He’s so sweet. I’m a fan of everything Michael creates. Honestly, his voice is hands down my favorite sound. You know, to make a film together would be awesome. I would love that! I think Michael would do a phenomenal job.”

“You’ve been together for quite some time. I’m sure you’ve had some lovely adventures with one another. Are there any special memories you’re comfortable sharing with us? And, is there anything you look forward to experiencing together that you haven’t yet?”

“First vacation together?” Michael raised his eyebrow at Y/N.

“Michael invited me to accompany him in Italy.” Y/N had this sparkle in her as she looked back at Michael. It was like they were the only two people in the room.

“Italy? Wow. Michael, you brought out the big guns.” Leslie laughed.

“Oh yes. I was on tour at the time and thankfully I had scheduled days off in between each concert, so it worked out perfectly.”

“That was the first time I saw him on stage.” Y/N gushed.

“How was it to see Michael in action? What is the most memorable thing?”

“He’s magic. There’s no other way to describe it. I always tease him about it because he makes it seem like he’s just going for a walk. Performing comes so natural to him. He said, ‘I have to go do something.’ Kissed me on the cheek then went on stage in front of hundreds of thousands of people. He was so nonchalant about it. It’s a sweet unpretentious kind of confidence.” Y/N giggled, reaching over to tuck Michael’s curl behind his ear, which he playfully rolled his eyes at.

“I was trying to impress her. When she arrived at the stadium, I was reminded just how out of my league this woman is—”

“Oh stop!” Y/N poked his side, causing him to let out a deep laugh. “You were very intimidating to meet Mr. Jackson.”

“So were you dear.” He brought her hand to meet his lips. “So were you.”

“Bubbles watched me like a hawk! That boy would squeeze in between us if we sat next to one another. He was difficult to win over.”

“He loves you now.”

“Yes. At the end of our first date, Michael walked me back to my room and as we were about to kiss goodnight, I was launched into the pool. Bubbles’ and I have been inseparable since.”

“That was just his way of welcoming you to the family.” Michael shrugged, biting his lip hard to keep from hollering. “It’s like an initiation.”

“Initiation?” Y/N’s tone was enough to make Michael lose it. His signature fedora nearly fell off his head as his laughter filled the air.

“You are his favorite now. Y/N comes over and he’s glued to her hip. He pushes me away now.”

“He threw an entire cake at Michael the other day.” She buried her face in her hands as her shoulders began bouncing rhythmically.

“Yes! The candles were lit too.”

“What happened? Why did he throw the cake at you?” Leslie asked between laughs.

“It was Y/N’s birthday. We had finished singing to her and I leaned in for a kiss which he absolutely lost his mind over.” Michael explained, “Fortunately, most of the candles blew out as the cake flew through the air, but one did burn a hole in my coat.”

“I didn’t know Bubbles had such great aim.” Leslie spoke in shock.

“Bubbles’ is very passionate.” Michael’s face was serious “He’ll yell at me if I’m stealing too much of Y/N’s attention.”

“Aw, he’s not that bad.” Y/N tried to reason.

“He’s not bad. He just bullies me sometimes.” Michael fake pouted and crossed his arms. His beloved leaned her head on his shoulder, trying to comfort him although she couldn’t help giggling just a little bit.

“Oh no!” Leslie exclaimed. “It sounds like you’ve got competition. Speaking of kisses, Michael, every picture I see of the two of you, you’ve got your lips on Y/N. You are usually very reserved, what is it about Y/N that brings out that side of you?”

“I’m comfortable when I’m with her. I’m able to be myself. Also, nothing will stop me from showing my lady some love.” Michael pulled Y/N closer, gently placing his finger on her chin turning her head to face him.

The kiss was short and sweet.

Michael was very deliberate when it involved Y/N. He never wanted her to doubt his love for her. He knew how he wanted to make her feel. Then, did whatever it took to accomplish just that. The look in Y/N eyes said it all, Michael never missed.

“I have to ask, as we begin to wrap things up. Michael, Y/N, where do you see yourselves in five years? Are there any goals you have as a couple or as individuals you’d like to share?” The brunette spoke, flipping her page over quietly.

“Together? We will definitely be married and have at least a dozen little ones running around Neverland.” Michael answered quickly, his tone very matter of fact as if we should’ve known that already.

“Bubbles’ does need siblings.” Y/N added with a smile.

“How would you two juggle family responsibilities and your careers?” Leslie asked carefully.

“Well, I think we’d figure it out along the way. The most important thing to us would be raising our babies. We didn’t have much of a childhood ourselves, so we’d be very hands on in order to give them everything we didn’t have. When it comes to our careers, if Michael is touring we’d join him on the road, if I’m filming on location they’d come along. It just depends. Maybe one of or both of us would want to be stay at home parents. At the end of the day, what’s best for our children is the number one priority.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself lovely.” Michael complimented her, practically gawking at her, clearly loving that they were on the same page about their shared future.

The interview came to a close shortly after. Michael and Y/N went around the studio the same way they did when they first arrived. They had intended to say their goodbyes, but enjoyed everyone’s company too much to leave just yet. They posed for photographs and signed every item sent their way with a smile on their face. What should’ve been just a few hours turned into a daylong event. The couple stayed for a little celebration party and treated the crew to a lovely dinner.

Three months later, Michael and Y/N were the headlines of every publication. Their faces were on every television channel. The media was in a state of hysteria that has never been seen before. It turns out that the couple was husband and wife. They had gotten married and managed to keep it secret for a whole year, but that wasn’t the only surprise.

The Jackson’s were expecting their first child together.

Y/N was about five months along.

The pair was thrilled about starting their family.

The craziest part of the whole story was a detail that the media would never know. Three months earlier, Michael and Y/N shared their news with everyone present in the studio that day. They felt comfortable enough to trust us with such a precious moment in their lives. Since then, the couple enjoyed a somewhat quiet three months without anyone spoiling their announcement or betraying their trust.

We didn’t just make history that night we formed a bond, an incredible friendship that would last a lifetime.

#michael jackson imagine #michael jackson x reader #michael jackson imagines #michael jackson fanfiction #michael jackson fanfic

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daman19942 · 4 months

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TSR CC Recommendations: TS2 Lot Builders

Nobody asked for this but I have a little time on my hands and I said I might do it, so here is a list of some TSR lot builders who I recommend checking out. A few notes under the cut before we get started (all details under the cut, as well, in case you aren't interested in my preamble):

This is not meant to be paid promotion for TSR. I believe TSR asking users to pay for their CC is ridiculous, especially for a 19 year old game they haven't supported in 7 years. But I spent many years uploading there during the peak-TS2 / pre-TS3 era and know there is great CC in their archives that newer players may not know about. And unlike TheSims2.com, which has sadly shuffled off this mortal coil, TSR's content is still available to freely download (assuming you can stomach the pop-ups and wait times)

This post will only be about lot builders because that was what I was primarily uploading and downloading in this era. I was friendly with some of the creators I am about to list, but none of them are still active members of the TS2 community.

The preview pics might be a little rough and the architecture styles will likely feel very dated compared to the most popular styles these days, which are more colorful, cluttered, and use 3t2 and 4t2 conversions. Re: the previews: too many of us were using free trials of PaintShopPro back then, and TSR limited us to 2 previews, so we did our best. Re: the styles: unlike pre-2010's CAS CC, which was full of hand painted and "realistic" textures (LOL), these are the same objects you can find in the game today, just being used in different ways! Sometimes for the first time! And, yes, while some of these creators used CC, it was mostly Homecrafter walls and floors, as you'll see below.

This was also the hey-day of CFE lot building, which has certainly fallen out of favor to more traditional builds (in part because graphics cards have improved and these types of builds don't look as good in 2024, and also because the great CFE experimenters, builders, and tutorial writers are no longer part of the community and their original discoveries are gone as well - I am happy to go down a massive rabbit hole on this piece of TS2 history if anyone else cares, but trust me, you don't have to care).

Alright that is enough caveating, here are some recs! (Links are in the creator's names and they take you to their Lots, though many of them have other creations, too).

Lord Tiko Speaking of great CFE builders! Lord Tiko built spaceships, boats, pagodas, domes, windmills and bridges, oh so many bridges before retiring mid-TS2 because of health issues. He was one of the first builders to take Daihtnaoz7's single and double bridge tutorials and apply them to really big lots. I'm still not sure how he built the Venice Rialto Bridge, or his other European water lots. Overall, a massive inspiration to me when I was prioritizing CFE builds.

Hatshepsut My favorite "traditional" home builder, and someone I considered a friend. She specialized in English and American builds, and I had many of Hat's houses in my old saves and was impressed by her range and decorating style which was (for the time) more varied than many of her peers. Knew how to take great preview pics of her houses, too.

Tigerblue Another builder I corresponded with, Tigerblue was probably the least prolific uploader on this list for sheer number of uploads, but she also crossed a range of styles. Her builds leaned way into specific styles (see the previews, these were all part of consistent sets of 3,4, or even 10 lots), but this was also what happened when a new EP dropped and everyone raced to uploaded builds using as many of the new objects and styles as possible. Tigerblue just happened to be better at it than most of us.

Cyclonesue Do current TS2 players know Cyclonesue? Because it's hard to think of someone who had a bigger impact on building and decorating of the era, first with her English and Tudor builds and later with her extremely distinct grunge creations. Seriously, check out her Urban Renewal series and the corresponding objects. Iconic stuff that surely now feels frozen in time. I probably only played 20% of her lots that I downloaded, but they still make for great hood decor. Like Tiko, someone who happily experimented with CFE.

Illiana The creator who inspired me to make this list is, ironically, the one on it who I know the least about (she is a Featured Artist but not in the Hall of Fame, whatever that means). I just started playing her Tri-Annyas fraternity house and have a few other lots floating around my game. She built in a range of styles, from classical to modern to Twikki Island to grunge. Revisiting some of them in-game, the TSR previews do not do them justice.

*EXHALES* If you made it to this point, kudos to you. I'm sure there are creators I've forgotten, and houses I haven't linked to, but this is a good starting point for digging into some of the eclectic builds the TSR(chives) have to offer (I just coined that, is it clever? It is not). Maybe I'll do a Part 2 if people like this.

If you have any favorites of your own, let me know what I missed! And as I do with my old Exchange re-uploads, I am tagging @sims2packrat and @oldasscustomcontent for general TS2 history awareness!

#the sims 2 #ts2 #sims2cc #not mine #the sims 2 archive #thesimsresource #tsr #tsr lots #lord tiko #hatshepsut #tigerblue #cyclonesue #illiana

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jog-hog · 29 days

Text

Siblings and secrets don't mix

Dipper x Pacifica

W/C: 1k+

Summary: Mabel's trying to figure out who Dipper is texting so much and finds out it's a certain popular princess of Gravity Falls.

Note: This fic is pure fluff absolutely tooth rotting also I've never posted a fic on Tumblr before I'm mainly an AO3 user so sorry for any formatting issues!

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶

Back in Gravity Falls

After the events of their first stay in Gravity Falls the twins are not only well known,semi-well-liked they have friends. Friends that come and meet them at the bus as they pull up, friends that sneak out the house to hang out with them and recently friends that text them A LOT when they're not in Gravity Falls.

Dipper had never been big on the whole phone thing instead enjoying nature whenever possible and appreciating literature and writing but recently Mabel's noticed theres been a significant rise in notifications and a very big increase in him checking them (and him showering has gone up marginally). Mabel knew what this meant.

All signs pointed to pine tree having...a girlfriend ?! Of course Mabel has been in her fair share of relationships so it's not really a shocker but Dipper? She didn't even know someone could like Dipper back!

However whenever she'd try to introduce the topic to their conversations he'd shut it down quickly... suspiciously quickly.

Heres what she knew: they texted ALL THE TIME which means they're probably not in our school since she's also caught him sneaking peaks at his phone in school, they care about Dipper showering and that's about it...he really is a stubborn one isn't he? So obviously she had to concoct a plan, dare she say a plot to look onto Dippers phone and answer the very important question: WHO ARE THEY??

As Mabel sat awake in bed trying to figure out who it was she went down her mental list of potential suitors. She knew they weren't that far, Mabel probably knows them too...

Then a lightbulb moment occured

"GRAVITY FALLS!"

She though to herself jumping up in bed, it had to be. Theres only one person, one possible person: Pacifica Northwest! Mabel couldn't believe it, she always got a vibe from the two but couldn't sell herself on it due to Candy's crush but given she's over it and that the two are texting non stop it just HAD to be Pacifica!

In the morning Mabel awoke to the sound of tapping on a phone, Dipper was awake before her which was abnormal and even stranger he was on his phone! Mabel looked at him and smirked

"Who're you texting lil bro?"

"No one!" Dipper exclaimed going red and hiding his phone away from his twin.

"Aw come on Dip we're twins we need to tell eachother everything!"

Dipper sighs going red, Mabel looks at him intently waiting for him to confirm her suspicions.

"..Well" he starts quietly "come closer I'm embarrassed" he says hiding his face in his hands. Mabel simply walks forward

"Whisper I promise I won't tell mom and dad come on!!" She begged

"I've been messaging Pacifica and..." He begins and stops just as quickly getting visibly embarrassed

"AND?" Mabel continues. "AND I think we're dating" he blurts out quickly like he's ripping a band aid off.

There's a silence until Mabel breaks it

"OH. MY. GOD" she begins rambling a mile a minute about how cute they are, begging to see the messages just to know SOMETHING, her little twin was in a relationship!

Dipper sits there laughing grabbing her after a few minutes of this intense rambling

"You can't tell anyone okay? If we tell mom and dad they won't let us go to Gravity Falls it's only a few weeks away now"

Mabel promises her silence and they go about their lives (with much more drama than once before).

On the bus ride to Gravity Falls Mabel notices some persistent texting occurring right next to her, she desperately wanted to know what they were talking about but Dipper would hide away every time she got close enough to read it. Dipper was being far too secretive about this relationship for Mabel's liking and as siblings she had to be annoying at least once on the bus ride over, at this…this was her calling.

Abruptly she snatches the phone out of Dippers hands and shoots herself to the other side of the backseats on the bus, he immediately yells at her to give it back and chases after her as she kicks him off, she begins reading and exclaims

“‘I MISS YOU SO MUCH??’ OMG ‘I LOVE YOU TOO’” she giggles looking at how adorable their conversation is as Dipper yells at her to stop, she continues anyways (as any good sibling would) until he finally manages to crawl over and grab his phone back. Mabel continues laughing as Dipper pouts.

“You need to stop doing things like that” Dipper says moping and shooting his sister a look.

“You need to stop hiding things from me nerd” Mabel says back, shooting him the same look but with a smug grin on her face.

Dipper still looked a bit upset, she realised she probably went a bit too far by reading it out, her smug smile dropped as she looked down at the ground and played with her sweater.

As the awkward silence grows Mabel pierces it again.

“Awkward sibling hug?” She proposes looking at him with a sympathetic ‘this is for real’ look on her face stretching her arms out toward him.

Dippers face breaks it's serious expression and a small smile creeps onto his face, exhaling and turning to face his sister.

“Awkward sibling hug” he says while quietly chuckling and messing with her hair after the semi-robotic “Pat Pat”.

Mabel laughs realizing they're near their real home Gravity Falls and naturally she takes her opportunity:

“We're close to getting off and seeing your new GIRLFRIE-” she says the last bit loudly even though there is no one on the bus at this point except for the poor bus driver who's had to witness all this. Dipper quickly puts his hand over her mouth and pulls away before she licks his palm (again). As they pull up Mabel notices how Dipper immediately scans the crowd for Pacifica as they make eye contact.

“They really like each other don't they ?” Mabel thinks to herself as she smiles and grabs her bags.

The two can't wait for another beautiful and terrifyingly strange summer in Gravity Falls.

#dipcifica #gravity falls #mabel pines #dipper pines #pacifica northwest #dipper x pacifica #gravity falls fandom #gravity falls pacifica #gravity falls dipper #gravity falls mabel #gravity falls fanfiction #jog jog hog!

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lovingseventeen · 2 years

Note

hiiii <3 could you do a jealous svt pls <333 love your writing it's so cute :')

jealous seventeen ˚➶ ｡˚

a/n: i hope i did this request justice! (also these got hella long omg)

seungcheol:

❀ whines and pouts, you can't escape them

❀ not super serious but he will let you know

❀ "he kept fawning over you, who does that guy think he is!" he tells you as you both enter your apartment, "like i was right there and he really had no shame!"

❀ "y/n, never talk to him again, he doesn't even deserve a glance" he tells you (only half serious, he'd never actually try to control who you talked to)

❀ literally just kiss him mid complaint and it'll resolve 98% of his issue

❀ "'cheol you know you have nothing to worry about, i love you, remember?"

❀ give him an extra kiss on the cheek and this gets him to maybe stop pouting

❀ insists on being a little closer to you that day

jeonghan:

❀ no one would be able to tell except for the guy he’s trying to ward off from you

❀ he prides himself on you have his ultimate trust, of course you could never do anything wrong!

❀ it’s at a party and he can just sense that this guy is going to try something. he can't let this go on any longer when he sees him slightly lean in to you to try to whisper something in your ear

❀ he’ll do something simple, maybe pushing your hair behind your ear to cup your cheek to make his presence known

❀ immediately, you turn at the familiar gesture and it only gets better when you smile when you see him, “hi ‘hannie”

joshua:

❀ joshua is kind of perfect in my mind ??? so i firmly believe we have a communication king right here

❀ you come home from a party and when you both finish washing up he pulls you in for some cuddles, with you resting your head on his chest

❀ “you tired?” you asked

❀ “mm a little” he hums

❀ when you glance up to look at his face you notice he’s a bit deep in thought

❀ “is there something wrong?”

❀ “hmm, you didn’t do anything wrong, love” he begins, “just something about that guy from earlier.. the one in the blue shirt? something felt off..”

❀ “was someone feeling a little jealous?” you chuckled, earning a small chuckle from him too because he feels a little silly over this

❀ “a bit” he confirms, hugging you a little tighter

❀ “we’ll it’s a good thing i get to go home with you, isn’t it?” you smile, leaning up him a kiss. he murmurs a "that's true" against your lips

jun:

❀ will remove you from the situation in the most random way possible

❀ there's someone talking to you a little too close for his liking and he really just walks up to you with his phone in his hand

❀ "baby, your mom's calling"

❀ your mom barely calls him so you're very confused, but you politely excuse yourself to take this call

❀ once he's led you away, you're both looking at each other and he realizes he didn't know what to do when his plan got this far

❀ "isn't she on the call right now?" you ask, pointing to his phone

❀ "um, actually no one was calling?" he admits

❀ you're perplexed and you don't really put two and two together until you both see the person from your earlier conversation walking up to you and jun steers you in another direction

❀ you're giggling as you're walking away, "junnie were you getting jealous?"

❀ "hm?" he hums, even raising his eyebrows, "never"

❀ please massage his temples later for he's been a bit stressed

hoshi:

❀ he feels a pang in his heart when he gets jealous

❀ but he also doesn’t want to confront you because he does trust you and he knows he really has nothing to worry about

❀ but he can’t help but feel a little territorial and he just wants to let you know how much he wants you

❀ if you’re at a party he’ll wait for you to finish your little conversation. he makes eye contact with you across the room and you see him take a seat somewhere on the side

❀ when you make your way towards him a couple moments later, he leans into your ear, hot breath tickling you and heightening your senses

❀ “you know you look so hot right now?”

❀ he’s still leaning in when this comment makes you blush. “that person’s practically drooling, i mean, anyone would”

❀ a hand comes to your thigh and he places a kiss that just ghosts over the skin of your neck

❀ “do you wanna get out of here?”

❀ you’re nodding immediately-

wonwoo:

❀ you brought him to a reunion dinner with you and inevitably, old histories get rehashed for fun

❀ someone brings up how you almost got together with another guy all those years ago and it just so happens that that person is at the dinner too

❀ “remember when he got y/n flowers!” and everyone chatters in agreement

❀ frankly wonwoo feels a little sick even if it was only a joke, you’re laughing awkwardly but you do sneak glances at him to check if he’s okay

❀ “damn imagine if they did get together all those years ago, they might’ve been married now!”

❀ his stomach churns even more when that guy looks at you and his stare lingers. “y/n, imagine?” he calls out to you, even from across the table

❀ at that comment everyone’s gasping and cheering on weird excitement and wonwoo feels as if he’s getting smaller and smaller

❀ “guys, c’mon…” you start, trying to calm everyone down

❀ in an attempt to ground himself a little bit he reaches for your hand. his anxiety calms down a bit when you take his one hand in both of yours. it always calms him when you do this

❀ you turn to him and lean into his ear, “we can go soon if you feel uncomfortable”

❀ he shakes his head, assuring you that he’s fine even if he doesn’t feel great. though it does help that you check on him throughout the night even when the conversation changes topic

❀ on your way home, you walk with your arms linked together. “sorry if they made you uncomfortable earlier,” you told him, “it was such a long time ago, i don’t know why they still bring it up”

❀ “it’s not your fault so you don’t have to be sorry” he replies, “but do you wonder if things could’ve been different?”

❀ he’s surprised when you stop walking to look at him. “i don’t wonder about it because i’m happy with you wonu”

❀ you’re glad to see his smile, it feels like you haven’t seen it all night. “i’m very happy with you too”

❀ this lighter mood lets you two continue your walk home, but maybe you walk a little closer to him

woozi:

❀ i think he’d be able to reason himself out because he finds himself getting jealous as him being silly

❀ you’ve never given him a reason to feel this way, so why should he start now?

❀ this leads him to think about all the best parts of you and how he loves you so much he feels like his heart is gonna burst sometimes

❀ so his moment of jealousy turns into him wanting to do something nice for you

❀ you come home to jihoon having ordered from your favorite restaurant and even some dessert from your favorite bakery

❀ you walk over to him to kiss his cheek, “what’s all this?”

❀ “nothing much, just thought you deserved it” he tells you, returning a kiss to the side of your head

❀ you’re so smiley over the food and you tell him, “i love you, you know”

dokyeom:

❀ pleads with his eyes but ultimately stays quiet

❀ he by no means wants to be possessive but the way this barista is talking to you makes his stomach churn

❀ who is this guy going on about how you're one of their regulars and yadda yadda yadda..

❀ at first it's dokyeom’s fingers lightly touching your hand, then an arm wraps around your waist as this small talk kills him

❀ you can feel his gaze as this barista tries to extend the conversation despite the line forming behind you

❀ when you notice how he looks a little sad you politely tell the barista, "well, i'm so excited that i get to show my boyfriend how good your coffee is! have a nice day!"

❀ dokyeom perks at hearing you announce him as your boyfriend as the two of you walk to a little booth in the cafe, his hand staying at your waist

❀ he also chooses to sit next to you at this booth, keeping a hand on your thigh

❀ "here you need to taste this," you gush, feeding him a small bite of a pastry and doting on him a little bit more than usual

❀ he eases up a bit when you kiss his cheek. "you know you're my favorite person right," you tell him

❀ with this, his eyes crinkle when he smiles and he nods, the moment of jealousy he had becomes forgotten

❀ "and you know you're mine"

mingyu:

❀ his heart ACHES

❀ he would never stop you from seeing anyone, completely trusting you, so he just told you a "have fun, baby" on your way out to meet up with an old classmate

❀ he sees your story as you're out and sees that.. this classmate... is quite attractive... he feels awful for his mind even taking this route

❀ your story is innocent, pictures of your food, a casual selfie with the caption "reunited after so long!" with your friend's username tagged too

❀ and so ensues the stalking of this friend's account LMAO

❀ he doesn't even care if he gets caught stalking this person's story as he taps to view it. to his dismay your friend posted a selfie of the two of you too

❀ what mingyu immediately notices is the way their arm is around you in the photo, pulling you close as you (cutely) hold up a peace sign with your fingers

❀ when you come home he welcomes you with a tight hug while simultaneously fighting back the urge to ask you too much about your night

❀ "you look pretty today, did i tell you that yet?" "thank you, 'gyu" you smiled as you took off your shoes

❀ when the two of you eventually settle on the couch he tries his very best to be casual with some of his questions

❀ "so how was it? are they a close friend from before?" part of his jealousy subsided as you snuggled into him, "yeah a bit, we grew up together, it was good to catch up after so long"

❀ his hand runs up and down your back as he tries to think of how to gently ask a few more questions. he figures he might as well mention it

❀ "so i tapped on your friend's profile because you tagged them?"

❀ you raise your eyebrows, "oh yeah?"

❀ he can’t help but bring up the hug, "were you guys the kind of friends that hugged a lot? because that's totally fine-" your chuckle interrupts him

❀ "would it help you relax if you knew they also had a partner?"

❀ "oh" he sighs and you could tell a part of him was relieved

❀ “and we talked about you too” you continue

❀ this makes him curious. “you did?”

❀ “yeah i told them i’m so stupidly in love with you that i’d rather the earth crack in half and swallow me if i had to live without you”

❀ he laughs, “sure you did-”

❀ “i did! and i even said how i think about you all the time and how you’re so unbelievably handsome that i’m embarrassingly down bad”-

❀ it’s his turn to interrupt you with a half tackle of a hug, pulling you so close to him in an embrace so tight that your laugh gets muffled

❀ “okay i get it, i love you, it was silly to be jealous” he chuckles

minghao:

❀ maybe one day he picks you up from work and you greet him with a hug as he waits for you outside of his car. he notices your jacket and wonders if it’s new

❀ when he hugs you he likes to bury his face in the crook of your neck. to his surprise, he smells a cologne that is definitely not his

❀ “new jacket?” he asks casually

❀ “oh it got cold and my friend had an extra jacket in his locker” you explain

❀ “oh okay” he replies, but you don’t miss the millisecond his eyebrows knit together in thought

❀ suddenly he’s taking off his thick sweater even if he’s only wearing a shirt underneath. “here wear this instead it’s probably warmer, it’s wool, see?”

❀ “hao you only have a shirt on, you’ll get cold then”

❀ “no it’s okay” he assures you “i don’t get cold but you do, here” NDYDYDHDH

❀ before you can protest any further, he’s sliding your friend’s jacket off your shoulders and slipping the opening of his (admittedly warmer) sweater over your head

❀ “better right?” he asks as he folds your friend’s jacket up neatly

❀ “yeah” you agree, hugging yourself with his sleeves that are too long for you, “still has your warmth too”

❀ “exactly” he smiles, patting your head. he always loves seeing you in his clothes, there’s no reason for you to need anyone else’s :)

seungkwan:

❀ so maybe you gave mingyu a casual compliment because bros been getting beefy and you know he puts a lot of work into it

❀ "wow going to the gym is paying off, huh?"

❀ seungkwan overhears this and gives the most obvious and unabashed side eye LOL

❀ when you try to get him to stop pouting later on he’s (still gently) batting you away and removing your hand from him and flicking it NSYSH

❀ you're asking him for a favor he won't help you

❀ “uh huh, why are you coming to me now? i’m sure mingyu can open that bottle for you with his big beefy arms!”

❀ "but i want you!" you insist and for a second his act drops because he likes it when you tell him you like him

❀ he tuts anyway but he can't resist you (he loves making your life easier)

❀ "i can start working out my arms too, you know" he tells you

❀ you chuckle, shaking your head, "i mean, i'd root for you in anything you choose to do, but just so you know, i love my talented, pretty, athletic, kind- did i say handsome yet? handsome- package deal of a boyfriend"

❀ he's blushing now, you got him hehe

vernon:

❀ you would almost miss it if you didn’t recognize the subtle difference in his mannerisms

❀ he’s not super big on pda and you're fine with that, so you do notice when his hand doesn’t exactly know where to rest

❀ first it’s lightly on the small of your back, then it’s around your waist, then it’s back to your back

❀ he’s so quiet but you can tell he’s thinking about something in the way his gaze is a little in the distance

❀ vernon was originally part of this conversation with this other person but he does notice how they’re only focusing on you, leaning into you, and laughing a little too hard at your jokes

❀ when you hear a forced laugh come out of him you definitely know he’s feeling off

❀ his jealous thoughts only subside when you take his anxious hand and rest it on your hip and you take a step to put your body flush against his. no one could doubt that you’re a couple

❀ later on, his hand still hasn’t left you and you notice that this is new. kiss his jaw to ease him a bit, a silent message of you have nothing to worry about

dino:

❀ he hears you gasp when as your scrolling on your phone

❀ he’s feeling just a little nosy so he peeks over at your phone only to see some other shirtless idol and he is BETRAYED LMAO

❀ “baby you have the future of kpop right next to you” he whines

❀ you laugh, closing your phone to to cup his cheeks, “of course, and he’s definitely the hottest”

❀ he rolls his eyes jokingly and you think it ends here

❀ ohoho the next morning you’re surprised to walk into your kitchen to see your boyfriend shirtless with his pajamas hanging dangerously low on his hips, abs very prominent in the gentle morning light

❀ you can’t help but walk over to rest your hands on his hips

❀ “why are you naked so early in the morning…?”

❀ “what do you mean? i always walk around the house like this” (no he doesn’t) (he’s also definitely flexing right now)

❀ “uh huh, you know you can’t do this, right?” you tell him, tilting your head to the side

❀ he’s feeling a little bold, so he leans in so his face is inches from yours. “and why not?”

❀ “because i’d never get anything done” is the last thing you say before you’re taking his hand and pulling him back to your bedroom and pushing him onto your bed-

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