#they either came from the walls or a neighbor's apartment

[dejwrld]

⤷‧₊˚ could you imagine having a wet dream about your hot neighbor?

┊ •° ੈ ⋆° ┊ warning readers discretion is advised — female anatomy described, her/she pronouns, written with black reader in mind, pet names (good girl), oral fixation, oral (f.receiving), dirty talk, biting kink, backshots/doggystyle position, spanking, anal play (i mean he put a thumb in it that's it), marking kink, profanity, i think we should write smut about men in explicit mangas some more, mentions of a wet dream, wet dream is in italics, slight pervert!reader, repost from old account, mdni

You couldn't help but stare at him when you saw him. You remembered how your eyes lit up with curiosity seeing him move into the apartment next to yours. An apartment with many tenants who moved in and soon quickly moved out. A rumor traveled around that a ghost resided in that apartment, but you never cared to gossip about said rumor. You just went to work and came home. It was a sad cycle that you’ve done Monday through Friday. Occasionally when you would be leaving for work, you'd see him. The bags under his eyes are as heavy as he’s taking his trash out to put into the apartment’s trash bin. His whole demeanor oozed sex appeal even though he would be the type of man your parents would usher you to stay away from. 

He was a handsome man, and when you laid down to sleep, you only seethed in jealousy, hearing faint moans through the thin walls. A regular neighbor would march over and bang on the door to tell their neighbor to keep it down—but with you, it felt like your body was stuck. You stared at the ceiling indulging in the sound of the way he pleasured this woman. That jealous pit twists in your stomach, realizing that you have most likely been crushing on a taken man this whole time. But it didn’t make sense, you hadn’t seen a woman enter or exit his place when you were around. Either or, you still thought that it should have been you to have the privilege of cooing out his name the way this woman was. 

You could do better. You know you can. 

You may have been in a significant drought, but you were positive your plush lips could kiss him better. Your mouth could wrap around his cock better. You could move your hips while riding him better. But then again, this woman had to have something you didn’t if he was making her feel like this every night. 

You took your pillow over your head to scream into it. The heated feeling between your thighs caused you to roll over on your side to force yourself to sleep. You were only torturing yourself by continuing to be a pervert and listening to him pleasure another woman. Before you could utter a string of complaints to yourself, your body finally relaxed for you to fall into a deep slumber—a poor attempt at ignoring the walls through the paper-thin walls. 

Your body stirred in your sleep as you felt something under the thin lilac-colored duvet that covered your body. You felt something wet upon your thighs as if somebody was nibbling on the flesh on the inside area of your thighs. You attempted to squirm tiredly, but the grip upon you grew tighter. With your hand rubbing the sleep out of your eye, you lifted the duvet, and your eyes nearly bulged out your head seeing him. His eyes filled with so much hunger it sent a chill down your spine. With the oversized t-shirt you usually sleep in pushed up to your waist, you watched as the flat of his tongue glided upward and downward on the clothed part of where your pussy lips were. Even though your underwear was blocking the pleasure feeling of his tongue—you still felt yourself grow wet at the feeling. 

Your next-door neighbor Totsumoto Yuushi didn’t waste any time dragging your fusion-colored panties down your smooth legs to get a taste of you. The flat of his tongue dragged across your puffy pussy lips just to finally relinquish in the taste of you. His darkened eyes met with yours through the little light that shimmered through the window from the moon. You relaxed in his touch as soon as you felt the first flicker on your clit. Your breathing hitches in your throat before you cough up moans and your fingers tangle into his black hair. Before your eyes lolly in the back of your head, the last glimpse you got was of Totsumoto’s eyes shifting close as he finally wanted to focus on his main task. 

Totsumoto’s tongue glides around the entrance of your drooling cunt, and he even could feel you clench, feeling him teasing you. Your thighs were seizing close due to the intense feeling of him between your thighs, but he just pinned them back open. You even heard him moan as he continued to eat his meal. He didn’t leave a drop of slick for him not to savor. The blood rushing to his cock with each kitten lick he’s making on your pussy or each flicker and suck on your sensitive bud. Your juices stained his face, but he could care less when it was a mouthwatering meal right before him. 

Your body arched off the mattress as you failed to run away from your pending orgasm. Your stomach began to form the most satisfying knots for Totsumoto to untie, but he pulled it away. He shortly let his lips drag kisses and bites on the inside of your thighs. He removed himself away from your pussy with a satisfying pop. 

“I want you to cum on this dick, Y/N.” His voice rasps. “I know you want the same thing, right?” Totsumoto tilts his head to the side slightly as if he’s letting his head rest on your bite marks-covered thigh, and his eyes never stop looking at you. 

Totsumoto’s words hit you like a truck with each continued kiss and bite. Your brain felt like complete mush as you realized he snatched your orgasm away from you in the blink of an eye. With his cock on hard, he kisses up your body until his face is just inches away from yours. Him being on top of you but also sure not to squash you. You could feel his cock on the inside of your thigh. Just by how it felt—you could tell it was fat. You’ve had your perverted thoughts during a hot morning imagining how his cock looked. Was it long? Was it girthy? Was he circumcised? How pretty was the tip? You’ve asked yourself that constantly. 

He’ll inch closer to your lips. Through your stare of desperation for him, you watched him lick his lips—savoring in the aftertaste of your pussy before he spoke once more, “How’d you want it? Since you’ve been a good girl while I was between your thighs….” 

Teasingly, he’s letting his teeth nibble on your plump lower lip instead of giving you the satisfaction of a heated kiss. 

“I’ll let you choose.” He adds. 

And that’s how you whine up on all fours with a perfect arch and your cunt eager to swallow Totsumoto’s cock. You figured that if you were to do missionary, you’d become cock drunk for the gentleman immediately. His callous hands grabbed at your waist, dragging you closer to him; you could feel the tip of his cock brushing against your entrance. “Just relax, pretty, sure you fit around me perfectly,” Totsumoto assured.

He’s collecting saliva in his hand to coat his girthy cock with, even though he could see how wet you were for him through his dark locs that fell in his face. His hand gripped your waist, similar to how a person would with some bike handles. He completely braced himself for the waterfall he was about to experience. First, he’s shoving his tip in—slowly, just so you can get used to it, savor it. A wonderful feeling he could get used to. Second, he’s gradually shoving move of his cock inside you. This time he’s taking note of how your manicured fingers grasped at the sheets. 

“I thought you could take my cock, hm?” He’ll teasingly ask. 

You couldn’t even answer his question before he’s immediately plowing forward. No regard for getting used to his size when the wet cunt in between your thighs was enthusiastic for more. You’ll moan out his name like a song you knew from heart. The lewd sound of heated skin slapping against each other adding on to your tune of moans. It created a sweet melody that Totsumoto enjoyed hearing. It motivated him to fuck just a little better, a little harder. 

Your pillow was beginning to stain with your salty tears with each ram of his hips. You only had the opportunity to let out broken moans that bounced upon the thin walls of your bedroom. Your hand went back behind you to slow down his abrupt thrusting, but that only led to him swatting your hand away as if it were a fruit fly flying around a garbage can. At this point, you had lost count of how many times the two of you had cum. The sticky mess that imprinted your thighs didn’t stop Totsumoto from continuing what he was doing. The white ring that decorated his cock only turned him on even more. His eyes lazily droop to gaze at your pussy, swallowing his cock. It was an intoxicating feeling how you were clutching around him. Which each pull back on his cock—he could feel you tremble. Hurriedly, wanting to run away from his jabs but ever so eager for him to fill you up some more. 

“You were waiting to feel my cock weren’t you?” He growled lowly. He noticed you didn’t answer his question, only purring out desperate moans. The dark-haired male took that as a challenge. His large hands that once were on your plush love handles would press down your back, ensuring that you wouldn’t break the perfect arch. 

Totsumoto’s fingertips trace alongside the flesh of your ass. His hand slaps at it, and his actions' ripple effect causes his cock to twitch inside you. His body felt like he was running a fever so hot that he could most likely faint. His jet-black strands of hair were sticking to his sweat-coated forward, but even if his hair drooped low in front of his intoxicating deadpan eyes—he still couldn’t take them away from the mess between the two of your bodies. His strokes were beginning to grow sloppy as his body finally overheated due to his lewd actions. 

You knew that the older gentleman was so close to cumming. His grip on your waist tightens, completely entrapping you from running away from his brash thrusting. It took you by shock feeling his thumb insert instantly into your asshole. Your body tensed up, and he leaned down to place the sloppiest set of kisses on your back. “It’s just a thumb unless you want it to be something else.” He hungrily said. 

His words sent a frightening yet exhilarating chill down your spine. Your fingers grasped the crumpled sheets on your mattress as you met his thrusting halfway until the both of you were a cumming mess. You’ve had your fair share of sleeping with men. From horrible hookups to the best lovemaking, no one ever made you feel like this when you were orgasming. You felt like you were on the highest cloud attempting to climb down all by yourself. Your limbs quivered with each sloppy cum coated slam upon your ass, and your moans became so frantic that someone would have thought you were speaking in tongue. The messy mess that imprinted the two of your skin wasn’t as bad as the mess when his cock hesitantly removed itself from you. Totsumoto’s thick cum dripped out of your cunt as he let your body collapse on the mattress below you like a personal used fleshlight. You could hear his breathing returning to normal as he let his fingertips drag alongside your sweat-coated body parts. 

“Sleep tight. You’re going to need it for when I return.” His words came out like a whisper.

When his fingertips left your body, you felt cold without his touch. You were utterly addicted to his touch, and you needed more. However, your shaken limbs and depleted body said otherwise.

Exhaustion overcame your body as the only thing that could be heard in the room was the sound of you trying to control your breathing. Your eyes became droopy, and you realized that he just gave you the best dick you could imagine, that you instantly fell into a deep slumber.

The annoying sound of your alarm caused your eyes to open instantly. Your phone was practically yelling at you to get up to start your day. When you pressed the snooze button on your phone, you glanced at the time. You still have a couple more minutes—perhaps you can attempt to fall asleep to continue the dream. Your panties already were damp, and your nipples hardened in anticipation due to it, but no matter how comfortable you got or how tightly squeezed shut your eyes were—you couldn’t fall back into that deep slumber. There you were, staring at the ceiling, thinking about him, and once again, the horrible feeling of him not being able to pleasure you outside of your perverted wet dreams swirled around in your mind. 

A knock could be heard from your front door, causing your thoughts to disappear— just like the dream you had last night. You climbed out of bed to answer the door, mumbling coherent words about who could be visiting you so early. It was most likely another salesman that wanted to sell something. You opened your front door, and all the annoyance in your body disappeared. There, your neighbor Totsumoto Yuushi stood at your door holding a box. 

Your words were stuck in your throat as your fingers toyed with the ends of the oversized t-shirt you wore to bed. Totsumoto’s eyes traveled down your body, staring at your boobs, and he took a mental note of how your nipples poked through the thin fabric of the t-shirt you were wearing. He cleared his throat to clear out the tension in the air. 

“The delivery guy put this outside my door, and it belongs to you.” Totsumoto’s deep voice croaked out. 

“Thank you.” Your arms extended for him to drop the package in your arms.

Instead, he wiggled past the small gap between you and your cracked door and directly placed your package in your house. He walked out of your apartment and glanced down at you. The scent of him went by you, and you could feel your knees weaken. 

“I’m going to get going now. If you need anything, just knock on my door.” His lips form a sly smile before he walks down to his apartment. 

You closed the door when he was no longer in your eyesight. Your back pressed upon the door as you slowly slid down it—if only he could get you the one thing you wanted the most. 

And that was for your wet dream to come true vividly. 

[writingouthere]

neighbor!Sukuna x single mom!reader; your ceiling is leaking at 3 in the morning and you don't know what to do so you go ask for help from the man across the hallway(inspired by real life events that were not nearly so charming).

no need to have read the others in the series but can be read as a week or two after the aquarium date.

cw: Sukuna being a menace

Sukuna had always been a light sleeper so when there were knocks on his door at 3am, he was up instantly. The knocks weren't even loud but he found himself annoyed enough to stomp to the door. If he wasn't sleeping, the people below him didn't need to be either.

He yanked his door open, prepared to make whoever it was regret every moment of their existence but it was you, holding your daughter and clearly on the verge of tears.

You seemed contrite when you saw his expression but before you could even start to apologize, he was slipping on his boots and grabbing his key.

"What's wrong," he asked.

"It-it's the ceiling, I woke up and it was leaking water. It's getting everywhere and I don't know what to do and the landlord isn't picking up."

Sukuna rubbed your arm, trying to give you some comfort and you relaxed a little.

"Okay, let me come take a look. I can call the super, he's probably more likely to answer than the landlord." You nodded and he followed you back to your place. Holding his hand out to stop you at the door as he made to go in first.

Sukuna heard the water pouring in before he saw it. He had never been in your apartment before. It was clear that a woman there. There was color everywhere, more blankets than made sense for two people and the walls were covered in photos and artwork. It felt soft, it reminded him of you. And now, it was being ruined by water raining down from the ceiling.

"Why don't you wait in my apartment. You both look like you could use some rest. I'll sort this out," he said, handing over his key. You looked ready to protest but then your daughter started crying.

"Go, I got it."

You looked so relieved and he wiped away a few tears from your daughter's face and pressed a kiss to her forehead which helped bring the tears down to a more tolerable snuffling.

"Thank you so much, I don't even-"

"Don't worry about it. You two just go settle in the guest room and I'll wake you up when it's settled."

You smiled at him and you seemed to hesitate before you went up on your toes to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

Sukuna couldn't stop himself from grinning as you took your daughter out the door and towards his apartment. He turned around to look at the mess that was your apartment. It looked like a pipe must have burst in the apartment above yours. Annoying, but a quick fix when caught this early. He grabbed his phone, opening it to call the super before a thought came to him that just wouldn't leave.

It would be a shame if you had to terminate your lease because of unsafe conditions, after all you must still have a good six months left on it. He knew you didn't have any family in the area and it would be a lot for a working mom with a kid as young as yours to go apartment hunting all the sudden.

Of course, he did have that guest room. Plenty of space for the three of you and it wouldn't be hard to bring over the stuff you needed while you looked. His apartment was bigger than yours, even though it was just him.

Even if it was a tight fit, his lease was up at the end of the year anyway. You could always get a bigger space, one for your soon to be growing family.

Sukuna pocketed his phone and took a seat at your dining table, away from the water. He figured it would only take another hour before the damage passed the point of no return.

He hoped you and your daughter were resting well in your new home.

[livingemkayde]

waterfront

neighbor!joel miller/dbf!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: Rated 18+. CONSIDER THIS YOUR FUCKING COMMUNITY LABEL LOL. Minors please dni. Smut. unprotected p in v. age gap. Pet names. Dirty talk. Dom!joel. Oblivious ass reader's dad. Not proof read one bit (per usual). 

a/n: thank you so much for the recent love. you guys are honestly so funny - COMMENT ASK REQUEST PLEASE INTERACT WITH ME IM SO LONELY ON HERE. this lil mini series has really pushed me to write despite some…things (and by things—i actually have been getting a shit ton of hate on my din fic for some weird reason?? so im really happy this dbf corner of tumblr is very accepting cuz that was really making me feel…SAD LMFAO). also do you guys picture joel in this fic as game joel or hbo joel - i wanna know. please enjoy this token of my gratitude as always. 

wc: 4.5k

this is apart of my small dbf!joel mini series, read the previous parts here:

part i part ii

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

“Fuck, Joel,” you mutter when you finally relax around him, your tight walls flutter at the feeling of his cock moving halfway out of you. When he pushes back in you see stars.  “That’s right honey —fuck— so good for me,” he pants, bottoming out again and setting a slow pace that punches each breath out of you. “Teasin’ me all day—couldn’t fuckin’ wait any longer.” 

“Sweetie? Have you seen the sunblock?” 

“Yeah dad, in the back bathroom!” you yell back from your room. 

It’s honestly unbelievable. 

Packing. 

You’re packing. 

For a weekend getaway at some beach house property one of Joel’s client’s offered him for the weekend.

Joel’s client. 

Joel Miller.

Who got down on his knees for you at your graduation barbecue. Who fingered you in the front seat of his pick-up truck when your dad was looking for you. 

Who refused to talk to you after that. Not like you were trying anyways. This had to stop. Especially since you and Liam have been talking more and he’s…nice. Boring—sure. But he’s what’s good for you. 

He even got you a job at some hardware store on the other side of town. 

Liam was keeping you company—no—keeping you busy. But not enough to stop the incessant thoughts of your middle aged neighbor who is—even worse—probably your dad’s only close friend. 

You tried to keep your distance. For your sake and Joel’s. You don’t want to know what’s going on in his mind anymore. All you know is he continually runs laps around yours. 

You can’t shake how he looked at the barbecue. How the sea of people parted for him like he was Moses, greeting him with strong handshakes and acrylic nails wrapping around his bicep. But even worse, you can’t stop thinking about how through all those people—he found your eyes first. 

You tried to convince yourself that maybe Joel was thinking the same thing you were. That this—whatever it is—was actually fucking ridiculous and had to stop. 

Because it did have to stop. But it never felt ridiculous to you, as much as you will yourself to believe. 

You tried to convince yourself that much when your hand was down your pants in the middle of the night. Something sounding a lot like Joel’s name on the tip of your tongue as you made yourself come. 

You aren’t sure if your dad has seen much of him either—saying something about how he was booked through the fourth of July weekend with a huge project he was working on with his brother. 

That’s why you were shocked when your dad came up to your room with a grin explaining he counted you in on the weekend getaway with Joel, Sarah, and the two of you. 

You were excited to see more of Sarah — she had really grown up in the time you were away. But with Sarah comes Joel, and you aren’t sure if the butterflies in your stomach were from anxiety or anticipation at that thought. 

A half a day after your dad told you to get packing, you’re in the backseat of Joel’s truck, Sarah at your side, while she talks everyone's ear off about something. You aren’t really paying attention because Joel can’t stop stealing glances at you in the rear view mirror—and let's be honest. You can’t stop either. 

“—so then she said to me that it was my fault. I mean can you believe that?” Sarah slaps your arm gently while finishing her story. 

She looks around the car for approval and the dads just shrug their shoulders. You give her a sympathetic look. 

“Sorry Sarah, sounds crazy,” you say, grabbing her hand. You—honest to god—tried to pay attention but there were so many names thrown out you couldn’t keep up. It didn’t help that the man in the driver's seat kept you up at night—almost every night—since the barbecue. 

“I know! But then Jackson was like okay with it so whatever,” she gives you a knowing look, finishing her story—don’t say anything else because my dad’s here.

“Boys,” your dad murmurs to Joel under his breath, but you catch it. 

You also catch Joel shaking his head in response, letting out a huff and a—

“Tell me ‘bout it.” 

You meet his eye through the rear view mirror and drop his gaze quickly. His knuckles go white on the steering wheel. 

You think you’re almost off the hook and maybe can get some rest but Sarah lets out the first of many—

“Are we almost there yet?” 

Four more of those and you arrive at a secluded beach house on the coast. Joel pulls up to the back of the house, you can see the deck which leads down to the beach. Sarah and your dad hop out of the truck hastily—excited to see the house, and enter through the back door. It leaves you and Joel in the car together. Alone, for a few uncomfortable seconds until he finally speaks. 

“You alright?” 

It throws you for a loop. Joel Miller asking if you’re okay? You must be dying. You look at him through the mirror, an eyebrow raising. 

“‘M fine,” you reply back, monotone.

“Do you wanna talk?” 

Another surprise. 

“There’s nothing to talk about. You made that clear,” you huff, putting an emphasis on you so maybe he can start to feel an ounce of what you do. 

He gets out of the car but you don’t move from your position. Your dad and Sarah have disappeared into the house, undoubtedly claiming the best bedrooms and rifling through the owner’s things. 

He opens your door, his hand hanging off the top of it while his other braces himself on the car near your head. He dips his head closer to you, taking up the entirety of the door frame. 

“You gonna be a brat this whole trip?” His drawl, rich and velvety, almost tricks you into leaning up to kiss him, but you snap out of it from his words. The name shouldn’t make you clench your thighs together like it does. You opt for anger over letting him see what he does to you.

“I’m the brat?” You bite back. He’s not going to do this again. If it’s your last dying wish, Joel Miller will learn a lesson this trip. For leaving you high and dry. For being a fucking asshole, just like you told him at the barbecue a couple days ago.

“You think parading that lil boy ‘round here s’okay?”

“Again with Liam? It’s not any of your business.” 

You look at him. Really look at him—and there’s a certain emotion behind his eyes you can’t place. Like he’s biting his tongue, and you know he is.

“What, Joel? God,” you say, exasperated. 

“Nothin’—I—” he pauses like he’s trying to collect his thoughts before speaking. Then he says something that surprises you—like maybe he really does care about you and what happened in his truck. 

“He make you laugh?” 

You stare at him, shocked, and you can’t help but soften your gaze. You feel like bursting into a puddle of tears—but what’s even worse—you feel like running into his arms. 

“He doesn’t make me cry.” 

He looks down at that. Like he’s defeated. 

“I told you I care,” he throws his words back in your face. From when he had his tongue buried inside you. 

You roll your eyes. 

“What? You think I want it like this?” He continues when you don’t respond.

“I have no fucking idea what you want.” 

“I want to not be sneaking around behind my friend’s back. Your dad’s back.”

“Didn’t stop you before.”

He pushes off the car at that, putting his hands on his hips while scoffing to himself. You think you catch him mumbling something and before you can bite your tongue you urge him to speak up. 

“Insane,” he grunts.

“Sorry?” 

“I said you drive me fuckin’ insane.” 

You pause at that. Partially because his tone suggests it’s not the typical insane but like he can’t stay away from you. Like you drive him up the walls. Like he can’t stop thinking about you. Maybe even the kind of insane he makes you feel. Maybe it's the same thing he does to you. And you didn’t know you did…anything to Joel. 

“That’s my job,” you reply sarcastically instead of saying something stupid—or something you regret. 

You break his gaze—looking down to unlatch your seatbelt. When your hand goes to click the button, you stay fiddling with it; the latch fails to come out of the buckle. 

“‘S jammed. Need to get a repair,” he reaches over you to unlatch it himself. 

But you don’t get your hand out of the way quick enough and your fingers meet over the button. 

He pauses, you both do. The contact makes your head spin. 

You think he’s going to pull away. An apology is already braced on your tongue but instead of moving or retracting, he tentatively rubs your hand with his thumb instead, lacing his fingers through yours like it’s second nature. 

He’s in your space, and he smells like Joel, and you don’t think the two of you have ever shared a more intimate moment. Not even when his mouth was between your legs. 

You look up at him, hesitant, because you aren’t sure what’s going to be looking back. But he stares at you, his eyes soft. Joel looks down to your lips and back up to your eyes. His brow twitches a bit. You let out soft pants—the peaks of your breasts threaten to ghost against his chest. 

He looks at your lips again and inches closer, starting to duck his head. 

“‘M sorry,” he grumbles in a low, dangerous drawl that shoots right up your spine. 

You don’t think it’s a phrase he says often. You’ve never heard it. It sounds foreign on his lips, especially when they’re inching closer to yours. 

“For what?” You squeak out, a breath cutting through your words. 

“Everythin’.” 

Your eyes urge him to continue. 

“Thought I could stay away f’m you.” 

He gets closer. 

“Thought it was the right thing.” 

You shake your head. 

“But I don’t think I can stay away.” 

“Don’t stay away. Don’t go,” you plead with him and shake your head. All of your plans to make him pay have honestly gone out the window. But when he says things like that and he really—honest to god—means them? You know you’re fucked. 

“'M here.” 

You close your eyes at his words and will your tears back when they close. All you can smell is Joel and all you can feel is his hand coming up to loosely wrap around your throat, the curve of his palm hugging your collar bone. 

“Look at me.” In a blink, you do. 

He’s closer, if possible. 

And he kisses you. It’s the first time he’s ever kissed you. It’s not tentative, or aggressive.

This kiss feels like the real apology. Not him on his knees for you and then ignoring you after. He kisses like he’s willing you to forgive him. You know he’s not good with words—that’s why this kiss feels like the heartbreak that had settled in your chest is scattering. It feels like your old fantasies and butterflies breaching the surface are making you moan into his mouth. 

He kisses you like a man starved, but also like he’s scared of messing up again. 

It feels fucking good—he feels fucking good. 

His hand on your throat lengthens your neck to deepen the kiss. Your hands find his bicep and squeeze the life out of him. 

His other hand pulls at the hem of your shirt and almost ghosts the skin of your stomach but the sound of a door slamming snaps you both out of it. Joel turns to see Sarah pushing out of the patio door with her back turned towards you, carrying towels and a cooler. He quickly unbuckles your seatbelt with dexterous fingers, helping you out of the car.

You act like you were helping him unload the flatbed when Sarah turns around—a big smile cast on her face.

“Get your bikini on! Let’s go!” She looks at you and nods towards the ocean over her stack of beach supplies. 

“Alright, alright, I’m going.” 

You hustle into the house with a duffle slung over your shoulder. You can see your dad in the kitchen rifling through the pantry—the cooler for drinks and food abandoned on the floor near the fridge. 

You find a bathroom and change into your swimsuit quickly. You don’t miss the wet spot on your panties. From a kiss nonetheless. You’re beginning to think you’re way more fucked than either you or Joel like to believe. 

You rush out onto the patio. Sarah is probably shoulder deep in the water and it’s way too fucking hot to be sitting under the sun without taking a dip. You haven’t been to a nice beach like this in a really long time. You don’t remember the last time you went on vacation. 

This is nice.  

Joel is being way too…nice. 

You pass him on the way to the beach where you see Sarah jumping through the water. He looks at you, subtly. Out of the corner of his eye. You try to avoid his gaze and hide your blush but you can feel his burning eyes shift to the back of your head as you give him a small smile in passing. 

“Dad! C’mon let's go!” Sarah yells from the water. You look to see Joel staring back at you—you drop his eye when your dad busts through the door. 

“‘N a minute!” Joel grumbles as he throws his duffle over his shoulder, carting in a crate of barbecue things for the weekend. 

Your flip flops splat on the deck as you break into a small jog down to where Sarah is. She smiles at you as you run into the water. The two of you playing in the salty spring like teenagers—well she is—you aren’t. 

You can see your dad and Joel settle on beach chairs some yards away from the shoreline. They sport a couple beers and talk amongst themselves while watching you and Sarah play in the water. 

You catch Joel’s eye a couple times. He even comes down and throws around a football with your dad. He splashes and teases you all day. 

When the sun finally extends down to the horizon and the water turns orange from its light, Sarah tells you she’s beat and basically hobbles back over to the dads on the beach chairs. She slumps down onto the one next to Joel, you move towards them as well, trying not to blush because you know Joel is looking at you before you meet his eyes. 

“Tired?” Joel asks, not to you or Sarah in particular, but it falls on you—Sarah already asleep on the beach chair. 

“Exhausted.” You plop down on the chair beside your dad, taking a towel and drying your hair off before moving to the rest of your body. 

“Want dinner? I’ll make my burgers,” your dad inquires, beginning to stand and take the beers with him. 

“Sounds good dad.” You stand and wrap the towel around your body. “Need a shower.”

You try to wake Sarah up gently, she grumbles and stalks off to the house, you, trailing behind her. She kicks her flip flops off at the entrance and moves to the couch in the living room. She’s back asleep before you get the chance to enter the door. 

Your dad moves to the kitchen, you don’t know where Joel went. Maybe you left him back on the beach. You move to take a cold shower, the small tug in your stomach grew to be quite big when you caught him staring at your exposed skin on the beach. 

When you get upstairs, you enter your designated bedroom. You smile when you realize it has a bathroom attached to it. You strip off your bathing suit, putting it in the sink of your bathroom. 

You wrap a towel around your body and go to twist the knob of your shower. When you tug it towards hot it comes off the shower wall with a chink and you curse to yourself, the water coming out in a leak rather than a stream. 

You huff. This is not what you need right now. 

“Dad!” You call from the doorway of your bedroom—not wanting to venture further in just a towel. 

You turn away from the door—moving into the bathroom, trying to chance figuring out how to fix it instead, when a pair of footsteps fall by your bedroom door. 

“You okay?” A voice calls from your bedroom, but it’s not your dads. 

You jump at the sound of a honey rich southern drawl echoing your name as Joel pushes through the bathroom door to find you in your towel, holding the shower handle.

“Jesus—” he looks away with a cough, you can tell he’s shocked to see you in just a towel. But when he sees you holding the handle he does a double take. 

“What the hell did y’do?” He flips between giving you privacy and moving toward you with an outstretched hand, taking the shower handle into his own. 

“I just tried to turn it on and it snapped off,” you try to reason with him, a flush coming to your cheeks when he comes into the bathroom. 

“Move,” he grumbles, sneaking by you. In the brief moment you come chest to chest, you look up at him and he lets out a groan. His hand snakes by your waist. He looks down at you—a dangerous look in his eyes. 

Joel breaks first, moving towards the shower. 

“I’m gonna—yeah—just…uh thanks,” you gesture to your towel and shut the door to the bathroom behind you. Leaving Joel in there alone. 

You throw on an oversized t-shirt and underwear before he comes out, sans shower handle. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, suddenly self conscious you didn’t have time to put on pants. You aren’t sure why. Joel’s seen…a lot already. 

“‘Course,” he says, but doesn’t leave like you anticipated. 

“You havin’ fun?” He asks. There’s something in his tone that suggests he doesn’t actually care. 

“Yeah,” you reply, breathless, “Thanks for inviting us.”  

“sorry—I—” he points to the bathroom, “thought you were in trouble or somethin’.” 

“‘S’okay.” 

He looks at you, and down to your bare legs, your underwear just peeking out from beneath your shirt’s hem. 

The way Joel looks at you—like you’re the only one who matters—stokes the fire growing in your stomach. The look in his eyes tells you he’s still wrestling with his moral compass. Like he needs to stay away for his own good, but like he said in the car—he just can’t. 

Joel nods, and steps back like he’s turning to leave. You don’t want him to. You need him. When you take a tentative step toward him, he suddenly breaks into stride in your direction. The dam of fleeting touches and wandering eyes for half a day breaks. He grabs your face in his hands, kissing you hard. His tongue slips to run over your bottom lip and you whine into his mouth. 

Your hands come up to rest on his chest. His, wrapping around your waist while he dips his head to start kissing your neck.

“Joel–” you start, but the feeling of his lips on the sensitive parts of your collarbone punches your breath.

He only hums at that sentiment. 

“Where are we going?” you manage to get out, when he’s tugging you into the bathroom by your wrist, shutting the door behind him. 

“Need to fuck you,” he groans into your ear as he spins you around, so your hips press into the bathroom counter. You can look into the mirror and see your reflection. You look entirely too fucked out from a couple kisses and he looks stone cold. 

“J-Joel—ah—jesus,” you moan when his hand dips to your front and catches your clit through cotton. 

“Say please,” he groans into the skin of your neck. You turn your head to catch his lips in a chaste kiss. It's all tongue and teeth, but you don’t mind either way. He’s close, he’s here and he’s kissing you. 

You break away from the kiss just enough to whine out a small, “Please–fuck–”

You don’t really know what you’re asking for, but you know if that’s what he wants—you’d give him anything in this particular moment. 

“Nicer.” 

You whine, the pad of his finger catches your clit just right.

“Please, Joel,” you cut out through bated breath. 

He huffs, you can hear the sound of clinking and shuffling behind you—the tell tale sign of his belt coming undone. 

“Alright, baby, c’mon,” he pushes you down, folds you in half, your breasts pressed against marble. It's cold, and his hot hands on your waist, snaking down to slot his fingers in your underwear makes you dizzy. 

“You’re a tease,” he groans when he eases your underwear to the side, the head of his cock catches your clit.

“Joel—p—fuck—” His cock catches at your entrance. You both pause for a second, reveling in the feeling. One of his hands grips your waist so hard you’re sure you’ll have bruises by dinnertime. The other pushes your face down—fingers tangling in your hair. 

“Look in the mirror,” he growls, lifting your head up by your hair, just enough so you can watch his face as his tip slips past your entrance. 

He stretches you out just from that, you muffle down a scream in your throat. 

Joel’s mouth goes slack but he doesn’t react much with his face. He just looks down at your bodies connecting and pants while he slowly slides home. 

“‘S big Joel. Feel so good—oh my god—” he breaks you open and splits you in two. His breath cuts somewhere behind your head—your eyes squeezing shut at the feeling. 

He buries himself to the hilt, you curse and mutter inconsistencies into the bathroom. His iron grip on your body goes tighter if possible. 

“Eyes open,” he growls behind you. “You can take it baby, c’mon.” 

You will open your eyes, focusing on him in the mirror. He has a sheen of sweat already casing his forehead, his shirt is half unbuttoned with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

“Relax, angel,” he pants. “You’re squeezing me — could barely get it in,” 

He settles there, you try to relax but the stretch makes you squirm underneath him. He lets you adjust to his length, cursing every time you clench around him. It’s filthy. Obscene. He’s pushing your head up — lifting you by your hair, so you can see him spear into you with no remorse. He’s filthy, and so are you. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you mutter when you finally relax around him, your tight walls flutter at the feeling of his cock moving halfway out of you. When he pushes back in you see stars. 

“That’s right honey —fuck— so good for me,” he pants, bottoming out again and setting a slow pace that punches each breath out of you. “Teasin’ me all day—couldn’t fuckin’ wait any longer.” 

“More please,” you whine, meeting his eye in the mirror. The air is thick in the bathroom now, the potpourri on the sill of the window doesn’t really mask much of anything. 

He complies—surprisingly. Moving faster and harder, each push of his hips knocks you into the counter. The grip on your waist gets impossibly tight. The hand pulling at your hair finally lets you rest back down on the counter, pushing hair out of your face when you look back at him. It rests on the back of your neck. 

“Feel so good baby,” he groans. 

“Joel—I’m—I can’t, I’m gonna—” 

“C’mon angel, come for me,” he says, you take another peak at him through the mirror. He looks wrecked. But you look even worse. 

You get impossibly tight around him while he mutters things you can’t hear over the ringing in your ears. You think you hear him toss out a small that’s right when you finally spill over the edge. 

He fucks you through it, his pace doesn’t let up, the coldness of the counter brings you back to reality. Where his breaths are becoming groans and pants and he strokes your cheek with his thumb. 

“‘Nother,” is all he says when your tight walls finally relax, molding to him and only him. 

“I–I can’t—” you say, slumped against the counter. You sound cock drunk. It’s halfway true though. No one else has ever made you come twice in one night. You were starting to think it might be a myth. 

“Know you can, pretty girl,” he goes slow at that, angling down so the tip of his cock catches something inside you that lights the fire again. “There we go. ‘S okay, can feel it already.” 

He pushes you towards another orgasm, it washes over your entire body and you slump against the counter. Maybe it’s some sort of weird trance he has you in. Or maybe you were right and this — whatever it is — is getting bad. Fast. You’re threatening to fall. But he’s there, and he picks you up and holds you down. 

“Jesus. Fuck, baby,” he curses into your skin when your release coats his cock and lets him sink deeper, thrust faster, push harder. 

“Joel—fuck. Fuck.” Maybe the overstimulation should be getting to you, but you stay there like that, as he speeds up and his thrusts become more frantic. He chases after his own orgasm. 

“Turn over,” he says, hastily. His hands move at your body before you can process his words. He flips you around and slots himself in between your legs—sliding back in deep, grinding into you while folding over so his head is in the crook of your neck. 

“Please,” you whimper. You both know what you’re asking for. But he pulls out, ripping your shirt up and spilling all over your stomach and breasts. It coats you, the liquid hot and he dips his head to watch it coat your body. He lets out a strangled string of curses, bracing himself on the counter as he comes. 

He kisses you. Really kisses you. You grab his face and moan into it. Like you’re willing him to stay there, in between your legs forever. 

But he breaks first, moving to grab a towel out of the cabinet above the toilet. He cleans you up gently, wetting the towel with warm water before it touches your skin. The sentiment could make you cry. 

When he’s done cleaning you up, he kisses your forehead. Joel wraps his arms around you as you sling yours over his shoulders. He holds you there, his hand coming to cup the back of your head, stroking your hair and breathing hot kisses into your crown. You smile, lazily. 

He pulls back just enough to look at you. You know you still look wrecked and are in desperate need of a shower—he looks perfect by contrast, completely untouched and definitely unbothered. 

“Dangerous,” he mutters when you look at him through your lashes. 

You kiss him instead of responding.

You know Joel's right—this is dangerous. 

But it feels way too good to stop. 

_

part iv

taglist! (comment or message me if you would like to be added) kisses to you all:

@nostalxgic @iluvurfather

[hothammies]

morning hug - apoc au relationship details under the cut!

--- mike and will's (+ the og party's) background:

is it mike and will if they aren't childhood besties? their moms were friends before the infection hit and they saw each other occasionally before the apocalypse

after the apocalypse, they lived in the same walled community with their families and stuck together for a long time! from ages 4 to 7, they were basically each other's only friends until lucas came around at age 8 and dustin came around at age 9

the boys were separated from their families because a neighboring group attacked, effectively destroying the community (more on that another time)

this is when the og party learned to live and survive with each other!

in this au -> mike fell first, will fell harder :)

just friends... with benefits:

are able to talk about anything and everything

each other's closest relationship out of the party -> used to rely on each other emotionally (much more strained after they started doing fwb)

tentative fwb - usually only engage in benefits after they've had a bad day or are really stressed out

things feel normal when they're together and the morning after but then they give each other the cold shoulder...

mike has started making a habit of ensuring that there's a buffer person between the two of them when he assigns jobs (cannot handle the tension)

are currently -> avoiding each other + the other party members have noticed (they don't know ab the two of them)

what is their problem?

mike is scared of being committed to each other because he's seen what happens to people (his mom, rip ted LOL) who have lost their partners. he doesn't want that to happen to him or will were one of them to die.

he's also afraid of the possibility that a relationship between the two of them could affect the party's whole group dynamic and set things off, because he's more worried about their survival then he is about his own feelings towards will.

he loves will so unbelievably much that it hurts, and the idea of getting even closer to will and suddenly losing him hurts even more, so he keeps his distance.

-

will is most afraid of losing mike and the group were he to ask him to take their feelings any further. he's seen how devoted mike is to the group and to him, but he doesn't know if there's a limit to what mike is willing to tolerate from him.

he doesn't want to take the risk of alienating either of them, and he cherishes his relationship with mike so much that he's willing to go along with what mike is doing, which is straining their friendship.

will is a natural giver. if all mike wants is a fwb relationship even if he wants more, than he'll give it to him, even if it's tearing him apart on the inside :') he doesn't know if mike loves him back, so will is emotionally torn up from the distance that this is creating btwn them.

---

other notes: fwb byler is a really interesting dynamic to explore, especially in this apocalypse setting - by the point in the story that they become fwb, they're 17 and they don't really have any clue about what they're doing. most of their clues about intimate relationships stem from old magazines from a while back (that don't say anything about gay relationships) as well as what their older siblings taught them when they were 12, which highlighted the emotional aspect and not the physical aspect.

mike and will know that something within their relationship has fundamentally changed, and they have no idea how to handle it. however, they know that they can experiment and relieve tension with each other safely, but are also extremely conflicted on how they present themselves to each other outside of their experimenting and to the party.

heteronormative societal pressure is not a conflict in this story (at least, not yet) - they don't live with anyone else except the other party members for the time being. their only conflict has to do with them both being scared of losing the other. they live in a world where anyone can die so quickly, so they don't want to fuck up what they have :'D mike wheeler is the king of being unable to process his romantic feelings properly and will byers is the king of completely repressing his emotions! they're perfect for each other!

both of them are the equivalent of shaken up soda bottles with mints inside them, ready to explode (the mints are them being friends with benefits)

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Eddie hated this and he'd just started.

See, he was so proud when he made it, when he got his first office job. He saw what decades of physical labor did to Wayne's back, his hands, and he wanted to make his uncle proud. So he kept applying and applying and getting ignored and rejected and finally, finally he got a job in a pretty large corporate. Not exactly something prestigious, but hey, it had potential. The experience counted and all that.

He thought maybe workplaces would be different, that the good ol' high school dynamic would fuck off, but no. He was sitting at his desk, trying to fill in paperwork after a taxing phone call, but all he could focus on was whispering from the neighboring cubicle that was ostentatiously loud. He didn't know who sat there yet, the guy had been on vacation for the two weeks Eddie was in the company. From the stuff he was hearing, he was getting introduced anyway and not exactly the way he'd have liked to be.

"Can you believe they actually let him work here?" It was Carol, of course it was, the office gossip and mean girl knockoff. "I mean, he doesn't even look decent! Did you see that hair?" Okay, that hurt. He actually pulled his hair into a neat bun every morning, but you can't please some people. "And he has tattoos, what would our customers think if they actually met him, plus you should have heard the rumors about his past-!"

But just as he was about to slam down the pile of paperwork and either take an extended smoke break or gently ask Carol to go fuck a polar bear, he heard another voice. Bored and wonderfully bitchy.

"That's absolutely fascinating, Carol. Please tell me more, what could this guy possibly have done? It must be something juicy. Did he perhaps fuck his boss during the Christmas party and then lie about it to his boyfriend of five years? Oh wait no. That was you. Silly me."

Eddie had to bite his pencil to stay quiet, but his whole chest hurt by trying to keep the snickering in. And then the offended gasp. "I- you promised you wouldn't-!"

"I didn't promise shit, Carol. You just came to me, cried your eyes out - bad move by the way, invest in some waterproof mascara for god's sake, mascara in wrinkles doesn't good on anyone, and yes, you do have wrinkles - and tried to play the victim. Except I heard your small proposition to the guy before so it didn't really work out. But it's fine, you know," and oooh, the tone was smug, so bored, Eddie loved this guy already, "Tommy saw you as well and had a good time with Nicole to get even. So there's nothing to worry about. Now tell me, what did this horrible Eddie Munson do to summon wrath of such a righteous woman such as yourself?"

Eddie heard a sharp sound as Carol got up from the desk. "Fuck you, Steve Harrington," she spat out and sped past Eddie's seat. He just gave her a small salute.

When the sound of high heels faded, Eddie leaned over the cubicle wall and knocked to draw the guy's attention. And yeah, maybe he was a little bit biased because he'd just obliterated a textbook definition of a shrew, but this Steve was fucking gorgeous, light brown eyes looking at him, a smug smirk tugging at his lips.

"Oh hi," said Steve and offered his hand, shaking Eddie's. "Sorry for that. I'm Steve Harrington and whatever deepest, darkest secrets you're hiding, I don't care, I'm pretty sure I've heard them all. What did you do? Shave your head in school? Join a cult? Cut dolls apart and chant hail Satan?"

That had Eddie laughing again, but he still had an introduction to make. A proper one. "Nice to meet you, Steve. Eddie Munson, and I'm worse than your darkest nightmares. I sometimes wear socks in sandals."

Steve's eyebrow twitched. "Oh, Carol was right, you are a monster!" he muttered. "Speaking of monsters..." His head leaned to the side, towards Carol who was angrily carrying her coffee mug, her mascara running again.

Before he could catch himself, Eddie leaned over the wall and whispered as loudly as he could muster. "Can you believe some people wear dotted dresses with stripes on their stockings? We can't all be born with taste, I guess...tragic."

And again, maybe Eddie was just biased, but Steve's laughter was so pretty that it actually made dealing with Carol's bullshit worth it.

[javarium]

the door with the floral wreath | r. sukuna

when sukuna gets a new neighbor on the third floor of his apartment complex, he’s pleasantly surprised to see who it is behind the door with the floral wreath. her two cats on the other hand, are a massive fucking problem.

w — honestly nothing? save for fluff and some cussing, slowburn-ish, implied boxer & sorta rich! Sukuna, implied polyglot(ish)! reader, cat! Satoru and cat! Suguru and both cats being in love, cozy themed again (I can’t help it), the formatting of this “fic” was how it was in my brain so I’m sorry if it’s a lil strange haha, this apparently became longer than I originally anticipated lmao, reader is mentioned to be partially Japanese but no physical appearances are ultimately described, mild angst at the end

a/n: not apart of the ‘make me (yours)’ universe but it’s definitely inspired by it

🌸 When Sukuna wakes up on a Saturday morning and opens his front door to leave for his morning run, the last thing he expects to see is a floral wreath on the door opposite of his. That can only mean one thing: someone has moved in. But if someone has, then why hasn’t he seen or heard the furniture being moved in? These aren’t exactly the cheapest apartments, so did they just not have anything?

It was weird, to say the least.

🌸 However, three months pass before he gets to see who the person who’s behind the door across from his.

🌸 Sukuna gets back from his jog a little early, the light sprinkles of rain turning into a downpour. That’s when he sees you leaving your apartment, locking the door to leave. Unfortunately, you’re not paying too much attention to your surroundings, and you two nearly collide into one another at the top of the stairs.

You narrowly turn in time to place yourself flat against the wall to avoid the behemoth of a man that was your neighbor from running over you and sending you both down the stairs.

“I’m sorry,” came your instant apology.

“It’s fine,” follows his gruff reply.

But he knows he certainly wouldn’t mind running into you again. Just not where you two can fall down the stairs and potentially break your necks.

On a random day not too long after your initial run-in (and near subsequent dangerous tumble down some stairs), you two run into one another to get the mail at the front office.

You pop up behind him right after he opens his mailbox, staring up at him and his very impressive height and build and apparently scare him, because when you speak next, his shoulders jump. “Gosh, you’re tall. You must’ve played basketball or something in high school, yeah?”

He would’ve either been silent or retort something in an asshole tone like he was used to. He just didn’t like people.

He would’ve, if it wasn’t his cute neighbor.

“Volleyball,” he replies quietly. “Quit after graduation.”

You frown. “That sucks. You must’ve been good at it.”

“It was a pastime.”

“Sounds fun though,” you chirp, putting your own key into your mailbox. “I tried to get into sports, but uh, lack of things made it hard to do so. Did track for awhile, until my ribs couldn’t keep up.”

Sukuna lets out a snort but says nothing further. He goes to leave, but not before hearing, “G’bye, neighbor!”

Ah, shit. He hadn’t told you his name, had he?

Hopefully, there would be a next time.

🌸 Sukuna doesn’t see you again for another month or two after that, fate still having you two separated like an awful slowburn romance.

🌸 What he doesn’t like in particular is the fact you don’t know his name and he doesn’t know yours. He doesn’t like that; doesn’t like that he’s missed his chance to know you a little better. By his logic, he should know your name, have your phone number, and have at least had you on a date and in his bed at least once already.

🌸 Come early December, he hears your door begin to open and close a lot. It becomes annoying, very very annoying, very very quickly.

That goes on almost until Christmas time.

Until one day he manages to catch the little reasons why your door has been slamming shut so much.

Twerp Number One wriggles in his hold as he holds them both up to eye level. She grunts and huffs at him. “Put me down!”

To which he scoffs at. “And why should I do that?”

Just as Twerp Number Two decides to speak, your door opens. This time it’s you.

“You can let them down,” you say, clearly amused. “They’ve come for cookies.”

Sukuna grunts. “So that’s why they’re always slamming the door.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve tried to get them to stop. They are six, though.” As genuine as your apology is, Sukuna can see the little twinkle of mischievousness appear at the end of your sentence in defense of the two twerps.

“Mr. Sukuna is a big grump anyway!” the oddly-orange-haired girl says. “At least that’s what my mama says.”

“Nobara, you shouldn’t be calling people names,” you scold the girl. “Put them down so they can get some cookies and head back, please. I’m sure Nobara’s mom is wondering about them. Nobara, the white box is for you to take home.”

Sukuna begrudgingly obliges. Nobara and her friend barge inside your home. The door stays open thanks to a cold breeze, allowing for the smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and cinnamon rolls to drift outside and into his nose. And damn does it smell nice.

“So, I finally know your name,” you muse.

“Ryomen Sukuna,” he says, half-correcting you, “but everyone just calls me by my first name.”

“I can see why,” you reply in a joking tone and smile. “But yeah… It fits you. I’m [Name], and pretty much the same: everyone calls me by my first name. Since my last name isn’t exactly normal, you know… Since I’m not inherently from Japan.”

Sukuna’s brows raise. “You’ve lived here before?” he asks.

“My mom is [part/full] Japanese,” you admit. And then to his surprise, you ramble on further, “I’ve popped around, uh, a few countries over the last several years of my life, Japan included. I’ve just… never stayed in one place to technically be from somewhere. I was born in the States, but… I don’t, uh, really feel like I actually am from there… Does that make any sense?”

“It does.” But he doesn’t go into his backstory in return. And thankfully, you don’t seem to mind, just about as much as you minded sharing such a part of your life to someone who’s technically nothing more than a stranger to you, not in the slightest.

Nobara pops back out with her friend, who’s just a touch older than her.

“Thank you for the cookies and cimmanom rolls, Miss [Name]!” Nobara says.

You don’t bother to correct her cute mistake. “You’re very welcome, Nobara. Now head home. Goodnight, girls.”

“Goodnight!”

You watch the girls descend, and when they’re out of sight, you listen carefully for the telltale of their first floor door closing. And when it thuds shut loud enough to wake everyone in the apartments in the block, you turn your attention back to the gigantic man that was your next door neighbor… Who’s attention was on your door, more than likely concentrating on the smell in your kitchen.

Your lips curl up and you prevent a giggle. “You want some?”

Your voice snaps him from his stupor. “What? Want what?”

“Some cookies and cimmanom rolls?” you question, cutely reiterating Nobara’s mistake.

“Uh…”

He takes too long to answer, so you decide for him. “I’ll get you some anyway.”

You go back inside, leaving him out in the cold. But you don’t take very long and come back out not even two minutes later with another white box and place it into his hands.

“Well,” you say, teeth chattering from the cold. “It’s nice finally knowing your name, neighbor. Maybe we’ll run into each other again soon… Goodnight.”

He barely gets out a “goodnight” before you close the door. Sukuna tosses his head back and settles for a heavy exhale rather than the audible sigh he knows you would’ve heard through your door.

Another fuck up. But at least he got some food out of it this time.

🌸 You both end up meeting each other a lot more often by “coincidence” after that, like fate has finally determined you’re allowed to see one another or something. (To him that just sounds stupid, until it comes out of your mouth.)

For Christmas, you end up gifting him a tin of popcorn and another box of sweets by leaving them at a front door with a cute handwritten note.

🌸 Gradually, the two of you begin to interact more, and naturally gravitate toward each other’s energy and finally getting to know one another; he’s over at your apartment most of the time, it’s cleaner and smells at lot more nice than his (in his opinion). It’s not that he’s dirty, he’s quite clean actually. It’s just that he prefers your apartment to his.

🌸 You find out that Sukuna is about ten years older than you, and was almost a volleyball player that almost went pro, had it not been for his father’s death. He lost all motivation for the sport, and eventually settled for doing numbers for his father’s company, taking up boxing as a side hobby. To which he was more than good at.

A year ago, he moved into these apartments, getting away from the corporate world had had dived into, opting to do things from home rather than in-person. His prior neighbors never stayed around for too long, not with the amount of noise coming from his apartment in the middle of the night. You’re honestly surprised the person below him hasn’t moved out yet either.

🌸 For Sukuna, he finds out that you almost didn’t get to graduate high school because of how much you’d been moving around. You’d gotten depression from leaving so many friends behind so often that you just made graduation by the skin of your teeth.

Now, you’re online for college, majoring in linguistics, all while working as a translator for a special needs school of Japanese children that are deaf. Through that, he finds out you speak several different languages as well.

God, your personality is just as sweet as the goodies you bake, huh?

🌸 There is one problem, however, when he comes over: your goddamn cats.

🌸 The white Maine Coon is for sure out to get him and make his life miserable, with his attempts at wooing you almost a failed attempt every single time. His name is Satoru, and he’s by far the most obnoxious cat he’s ever fucking met.

Why on Earth you’d give a cat a human name is beyond him. But the again, the fucking cat acts so human it’s disturbing — it almost kind of makes sense.

🌸 Satoru’s claws almost end up in his ass every time he walks through the front door. He can’t even stand openly, but has to stay against a wall or sit on the couch so the cat doesn’t get his claws into his backside. And he can tell that that damn cat has a smug-ass smirk on his face every time. How a cat can smirk, he’s unsure; but he just knows that the look on his face is the one of a smug little shithead that knows he’s gotten away with being a menace. Thankfully, you’re aware of his tendencies and can tell when he’s being more of an asshole than other times and get onto him.

🌸 The black Maine Coon, Suguru, isn’t as terrible, but he opts to creepily stare down at Sukuna from his cat tower rather than be proactive in his distaste. He studies him every second every time he comes over, paying attention to every single detail and movement Sukuna makes with you.

He’ll do things more subtly than his white counterpart, like “accidentally” wave his long, black fluffy tail into his cup of water you gave him. He’s just as much of a menace, although you don’t get onto him as often like the white one, because while you know Satoru is more of an extroverted menace, you just seemingly can’t see that Suguru is just as awful. (Mostly because you don’t actually see it.)

🌸 This goes on for months and months, Satoru scratching the behind of his pants as hard as he can to make it rip and getting white fur all over his clothes, and Suguru glaring down at him from his tower and putting his paws in Sukuna’s food. Although it becomes a little less as often because they’re seemingly growing used to him, as if they’re seeing that he actually makes you happy and finally get the sense that he isn’t just going to break your heart and throw you away.

🌸 And the growing approval of your cats seems to mean a lot to you.

“I picked them up off the streets,” you tell him after he asks about where you got the inseparable pair. “I found them as kittens in a cardboard box three years ago on the streets, drenched and matted in dirt and nasty water.”

You remember the day very clearly. It had just stopped raining, and just as you were about to head home, stopping at the vending machines before heading to your car, you heard animal-like cries of something small and weak. And sure enough, on the other side of the food machine, stuffed away in a tacky, ruined cardboard box, were two, rain-drenched kittens huddled together to keep warm.

That was the day you got two new cats, two new responsibilities. And although times got hard a few times, you’ve never regretted adopting them.

Sukuna gazes up at the two cats on the tower, sitting next to each other in the bed at the top. Their tails are intertwined, heads rubbing at each other’s necks lovingly. He would have never guessed that’s where you found them. From the looks of it, they he would’ve guessed they’d came from a pet store.

“So you’ve raised them since they were kittens,” Sukuna says. “They trust you with their lives. And looks like they love you unconditionally, too.”

“I’d like to think so,” you muse, sipping on your coffee. “Sometimes it doesn’t seem like it with how ornery they are.”

Sukuna keeps his eyes trained on the two cats in love. He’s slightly jealous, and no he’ll never admit it. He just hopes he can have that one day with you.

He just has to stop Satoru from ripping him a new one every time he comes through the door.

🌸 Your cats eventually grow fond of having him over, fond enough that they’re not being the usual mischievous selves when Sukuna puts his arm around your shoulders and tugs you closer to him when you invite him over for movie nights, not trying to bite his fingers off (Satoru) or sit between you both (Suguru).

🌸 After a year passes and you and Sukuna know each other, he finally gets to take you on a proper date after manning up. Although it’s not a restaurant date, since he knows you hate being looked at while eating. It’s a picnic by the ocean, with the weather nothing short of perfect.

🌸 Your attempts to leave your cats at home for said date, however, are fruitless, the pair determined to come with you and your now-boyfriend who declares himself as such after dessert just to piss off the pair of felines. Sukuna plants a big fat smooch on your lips, turning you into a giggly mess.

🌸 They in return, somehow find a stray kitten and plop it in his lap in return. The kitten isn’t as bad off as when you found Satoru and Suguru, but he’s just as scared. He immediately imprints on your oversized boyfriend, who secretly takes an instant liking to the orange-red (honestly a little pink, too) baby cat and becomes a cat dad.

Date not necessarily ruined. But definitely not what he had planned.

🌸 After a week of having, he fondly named the cat a human name — Yuuji, and the fur baby took just as much liking to it as his owner did him. You do have to teach him the ropes and warn your boyfriend that he’d better be ready to have some of his stuff deep-cleaned if Yuuji doesn’t get to the litter box in time.

Satoru and Suguru take to the kitten like two doting parents. And as much as they still kinda dislike your boyfriend taking you from them, they still help train him to use the litter box. (Long story short, they felt bad after seeing you cry after they’d tore up [and peed] all over your third couch and quit being as ornery as they used to be.)

A few months had passed since Sukuna got Yuuji plopped into his lap, since you two had become a couple. It was always amusing seeing your big boyfriend playing with such a small cat. Honestly, the cat looked like he was part tiger.

You feel overwhelmed with contentment. You have a good job, a wonderful boyfriend (who’s apparently secretly rich) who loves to give you kisses, and two cats who love you. You have enough now, so why was the universe trying to take that from you?

You don’t know how your ex got your number, but what you do know is that you have to tell Sukuna. No later than tomorrow.

You exhale. You can’t think about it. You’ll tell him. You’ll tell him tomorrow that your dyed blonde-haired ex wants to see you again. You’re hopefully of one thing though: that the moment your boyfriend meets your ex, you hope Sukuna has enough restraint to not beat the shit out of him.

“Baby, you okay?”

Sukuna’s brows are raised. One would miss the concern on his face if they didn’t know him as well as you do.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m good.” Woman up, girl, you tell yourself. “I do have something to tell you later. Just… remind me before dinner.”

The concern becomes more evident on his face, which prompts you to walk to him and kiss him.

“It’s nothing serious… I don’t think. Don’t worry,” you reassure him, partially reassuring yourself. “What we should worry about is what’s for dinner,” you joke. “Don’t think I can eat those leftovers.”

“Goddamn, I’m sorry I put too much salt in it.”

You laugh, wanting this happiness to ever be trampled on. You’ll do what you can to protect and keep it.

taglist:

@vagabond-umlaut | @poe-daydreams | @heresan @thedovahqueen | @lotus-n-l0ve | @chiyoso | @miraclecherryblossomsblog | @unbreakableblueheaven | @marscatbutler | @vanillabloo | @wo-ming-bai | @visionsofmagic | @tohsri

[unholyhelbig]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader with "Who did this to you?"

Title: Hallway Meetings

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Wordcount: 2077

Warnings: Injuries, blood, bruising, mugging, Bad Grammar

[A/n: I haven't written Nat in awhile, so here is some hurt comfort!]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

By the time you made it back to your apartment, the adrenaline had sufficiently worn off. The rush of energy that kept the pain at bay was the only thing that made it possible for you to sit through the bus ride across the city, the lights were much too bright and blue, your head pounding. You pressed your fingers against your ribs on the ride home, each exhalation trembling.

Somewhere along the way, the bus came rolling to a stop and the man behind the wheel huffed out at you. “End of the line.”

You were the only one on the bus, and by that time, you were fighting sleep entirely. There was no one else on the bus, and you didn’t see the point in arguing with him. His eyes were tired and dark. Something told you he was having a worse day than you were.

With begrudging compliance, you walked the three blocks to your building. You had forgotten your coat, and by the time you made it to the entrance, there was a numbness to the fingers that you refused to realize until you typed your code in and felt what real warmth was for only a moment.

The lobby smelled damp, as it always did despite the dry winter that the city was experiencing. Sickly yellow lights changed the tile on the floor from beige to green, and you lamented the fact that the elevator that had been busted since your move-in date was still in the same condition.

Any other day, it wouldn’t’ bother you. But you let out an involuntary groan at the sight before making your way up the first flight of stairs, your fingers still pushed against the aching of your mid-section. You were certain that they were broken, or at the very least, bruised. It pained you to take a deep breath.

Two more flights of stairs and the excitement of the night had worn away entirely. Your whole body pulsed with pain, with fatigue and regret for not listening to your mother the million times she told you to be careful on your way home, to keep an eye on your surroundings.

It’s not you that I don’t trust, it’s other people. Her words echoed listlessly in your mind as you searched your pockets for your keys. The group of men who had jumped you must have snagged them too, or they were lost in the shuffle of things. Either way, you were locked out, and the damn was about to break.

“Come on,” You whispered, pressing your aching head against the cool wood of the door. You suppose you should be thinking whatever higher power was up there for letting you escape with your life, just not your cell phone. But right now, it all felt like a cruel joke.

You weren’t sure how long you lingered there, but it was long enough to slide down to the carpeted hallway and lean your head against the wall. It was much too late to call your landlord, even if you could. You were suddenly content to sleep the night off in the corridor. Concussion or not, unconsciousness called to you.

At some point, you’d drifted off to the buzzing sound of the overhead lights. When your neighbor approached, you didn’t’ make any attempt to unfold yourself at the sound of her soft footsteps. She had always been so courteous when she was home, making as little noise as possible, even when she arrived well into the night. This was no different.

She put her hand on your shoulder softly, it was a stark difference from the cold of the hallway, and you startled all the same, inhaling deeply and with enough haste to make you wince, a soft “ow,” escaping your lips.

Natasha was knelt down in front of you, an undeniable look of worry on her face. The two of you had been neighbors for over a year now, and you would be the last to admit that you wanted to get to know her better. She was quite elusive, and always kind. She was a mystery to you, and that made you all the more curious.

The two of you operated on the same schedule when she was home. You often ended up walking down to the mailboxes together, sharing in small talk. She was guarded at first, but the first time you had gotten her to open up, to laugh at a joke you couldn’t even recall, you knew that you wanted to hear that sound more than once.

Natasha would help you up the stairs with your groceries, despite your protests. You would help her learn how to cook something other than boxed mac and cheese. The two of you had shared a six-pack of beer during the buildings holiday block party on the roof, despite the cold. That night, Natasha had taught you how to peg a stop sign with a snowball, her aim impeccable.

The moments were few and far between, but they meant something to you both. You hadn’t seen her for about a month at this point and figured that she was traveling. There was no mention of what she did for work, and she seemed content not to tell you, just as you were content to let her do so in her own time. 

There was a suitcase next to her door, something you had never seen her with before. She was dressed in sweats, looking casual from a long day of travel. Her auburn hair was up in a loose bun, strands falling and framing her face. You couldn’t help but think that she was stunning.

Your face must have looked pretty banged up, because you could audibly hear her breath lodge in her throat. You hadn’t bothered calling the police, nor did you see much benefit in lingering in the spot that you’d been attacked. The only thought on your mind was getting back here, certainly not with the intention of seeing Natasha.

“Y/n,” her voice was gravelly. There was a coolness to her fingers that you wanted to lean into as she lifted your chin to get a better look at the pulsing feeling around your eye. You winced as her thumb moved against your busted lip, smearing away a streak of blood. “Who did this to you?”

Her voice was hard, almost with an edge of a threat on her tongue. You’d never heard her sound this way before. She was always soft, if not quiet in her calculations. Now, you saw worry and anger etched onto her beautiful features.

“Just some guys,” you said in an exhalation. “It’s not a big deal I got locked out.” 

The attempt to diffuse her worry was going poorly. Natasha frowned at you and released your chin. You struggled to voice your protests as Natasha eased her arm tightly around your center, pulling you to your feet. You saw stars, not quite sure if it was from her sudden closeness, or the exhaustive injuries.

Natasha was strong. She held you with little effort, even as you threatened to slump back down into your previous position. She unlocked her door, and you were welcomed with a warm darkness until she flicked on the light by the door.

Her home was modest, and understated. It overlooked a beautiful part of the city, the walls lined with novels that you’d otherwise be interested in. There were undertones of vanilla and tobacco, the same scent Natasha carried like a sword, your nose pressed against the small of her neck as she led you to the sofa and deposited you there.

Natasha vanished down the hallway. If her apartment mirrored yours, she would move towards the bathroom at the end of the hall. You nudged yourself up taller on the sofa, trying not to let your blood wick into its fabric. When She returned, she sheepishly shook a first-aide kit.

She set out her supplies and you groaned when you saw the bottle of iodine and cotton pads. She had done this before. Natasha worked with ease, she unscrewed the cap on the bottle before flipping it onto the pad, a sick brown liquid sopped into the surface. You could smell it from here, nose crinkling in response.

“Stop squirming, this will help.”

You highly doubted that, but all the same, let her work at the cut that was slit across your eyebrow. She dabbed the antiseptic and you refused to pull away. You knew that you would never try to get out of Natasha’s grasp. Her hand was warm and guiding. The sting eventually eased.

She asked, “Do you remember where you were when this happened?”

“Whoever they are, they’re long gone.”

You drew in a sharp breath when she nudged your ribs by accident. A discontent frown fell across her features. It wasn’t the same look of heated anger that dawned on her in the hallway. Instead, this was one of pure concern.

“We should really wrap that, you know? There’s no cure for broken ribs, but we can ease your suffering a bit with some plastic wrap.”

Before you could answer she put the iodine on the table and walked towards her kitchen. You watched her carefully. Each movement was calculated. “How do you know so much about this?”

“I’ve been put into some unsavory positions.” Natasha returned with a meager roll of cellophane. She stood, a pink color on her cheeks. “You’re going to have to take off your shirt.”

Now you were sputtering, mumbling a few things under your breath. The thrumming of your mid-section was enough for you to agree, even though your own cheeks heated up at the thought. She had a bit of a quirk to her lip, both eyebrows raised in amusement.

You got stuck halfway through, a twinge of pain shooting through your core. You must have winced, or Natasha could read the pain in your eyes because she mercifully helped you the rest of the way out. When she was done, the two of you were incredibly close, her breath warm on your skin, goosebumps coating every inch of your body.

A budding bruise stretched across your ribs, marring the tender flesh there. Natasha exhaled deeply, you felt the action everywhere. Her fingers moved across the deep smudges of brown and black and purple. Your mouth was suddenly dry as her forehead leaned against yours. She was quieter than usual.

“This shouldn’t have happened.” Natasha was knelt in front of you again, glowering as her soft touch soothed your aching. “I’ve spent my entire life making up for mistakes that I’ve made. Trying to stop the big bads of the world when… when horrible things happen everywhere, and the truth is, I can’t stop everything.”

“You don’t need to shoulder that responsibility, Natasha.” You mindlessly cupped her cheek and she sighed into the touch, her eyes closing for a moment of gratitude. “That’s not your job.”

“It is,” She swallowed hard “it is. And it pains me that you’re hurting like this. That I couldn’t protect you. All I’ve wanted to do since the moment I’ve met you is protect you from me, and seeing you like this, God, it shouldn’t’ have happened.”

She was crying, and you thumbed them away as she had done with your blood a few moments earlier. If there was any hesitancy in her emotion, it washed away with the simple gesture. Her nose brushed against yours, cold from the journey home.

Nat smelled of melted snow and you remembered the night on the rooftop. The way your elbows brushed together as you watched the lights over the city. You almost closed the distance then and there, but she’d pulled away, and you awkwardly downed another frothy beer before she threw a second snowball, nailing the stop sign where you had fallen short.

Now, it was her that leaned in. There was a slight nip of pain where your lip had split, but it eased slowly into pleasure. She tasted like hazelnut coffee from the airport, of an edge of mind. Your fingers traced her jaw. She sighed into the kiss, the most fragile sound in the world.

You broke the embrace regrettably, sucking air through your teeth “oh, ouch.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry” she chuckled softly, nudging her forehead with her own, touch dancing over your midsection. “We really should get you patched up.”

[c0ffinshit]

I Can See You (11th Doctor x Reader) Smut Oneshot

a/n: welcome to the first part of my short story collection called “The Doctor Will See You Now.” i hope you all as excited as i am! word count: 3,833 warnings: teachers au, fluff, soulmate au (if you squint), little dialogue, age gap, mentions of sex and masturbation before the smut, praise kink, vanilla cunnilingus

"And we kept everything professional, but something's changed, it's something I like. They keep watchful eyes on us, so it's best that we move fast and keep quiet." - Taylor Swift

1956, somewhere towards the tail end of England, a doctor sits at his desk, looking over at the same pieces of papers. Homework from his first batch of classes. He puts his hands on his face. Sure, every teacher should be worried about the brilliance of their students. But that wasn’t what he was worried about. He was apprehensive about his newly hired teaching assistant, (Y/N) (L/N).

He thought you were a bright young woman, keeping your hair neat and all your clothes clean and ironed. He always wanted to keep his distance from you. So he doesn’t repeat what happened with his past teaching assistant. The Doctor wanted a clean record. He pushes away from his desk in his chair, finally getting ready to go home. But his mind began to wander.

Earlier in the day, you spoke with him about a future project, seeing who would be willing to participate and pass it. When the end of the conversation came to a head, you giggled at one of his attempts at a joke. You pull at your skirt a little. He notices more of your thigh, including a small accidental flash of your undergarments. It just happened. He didn’t want to make you more nervous than you seemed, so he didn’t speak to anyone about it. A secret he could have all to himself. Something to ruin with his own sick and twisted imagination. Innocent, turned dirty by his own hand.

You sat alone in your apartment, as you always did. There wasn’t much to do when all you could do was think about that Doctor. His smile, the way his eyes would focus on you when you spoke. It was always those little things that drove you mad about him. You began to wonder what he thought of you. Did he think you were pretty? Did he want you to wear shorter skirts again?

You thought about spying on your neighbors again.

You pull the blanket closer to your chest as you get up and listen to your neighbors, an older married couple. Typically, you would study them silently, a cup to the wall, taking notes of everything they did together. Tonight wasn’t any different. The wife was cooking dinner for him, kissing and making one another laugh. Them being as intimate as you imagined yourself with the Doctor.

A few months before you met him, you studied day and night. Your dream of working at a college was on the horizon. When the day finally came, you walked up to the stage and accepted your fate as an English professor. As you looked for jobs, your heart began to sink deeper and deeper into your chest. It didn’t seem like anyone was looking to hire a fresh-out-of-college English teacher anywhere.

Suddenly, you find a job at a college as a teaching assistant. An assistant? You went to school for six years, and the only job available at a college was a teaching assistant. With a defeated sigh, you called the college and scheduled an interview. After said interview, it took them a few days to finally get back to you about the job. Once you opened your mailbox for the fourth time that week, a letter accepting you into their system greeted you. It contains the usual things, even saying you would be working with the Doctor, the most respectable man in the institution’s history.

The Doctor quietly shut the door of his pearl-white car. After hopping from century to decade to millennium, he thought it would be time to slow down and get serious about what he wanted. Sex wasn’t crucial, but the Doctor wanted something to call his own. Having a lover in his life wasn’t that important either, but he wanted you more than anything. The Doctor never wanted someone that bad before. He was tired of running, walking, and time-traveling. A hot cup of tea and you were all he needed.

The key turns with his hand, turning the car on with a small ding. He wanted to go anywhere but back to the TARDIS. The TARDIS was lonely and quiet, filled with knobs and future technology. The only other place he knew was your apartment. Your apartment had old books, statues of pilgrim girls, and a TV that didn’t have many channels. The place smelled of old wax long melted away, and cracks in the plaster lined almost every wall. Your apartment felt like it could cave in at a moment’s notice. But in his mind, he would rather spend the rest of his night in a place with thin walls and the same few reruns on the same few channels than a place he called home for so many years.

So that settles it. The Doctor backs out of his spot in the large parking lot, turning left towards the exit gate.

You had actually met the Doctor long before you had ever realized. When you were in your later high school years, the new science teacher had gone missing a few days before the school was set to open for classes. The Doctor had been on his own for a while by this point. Amelia and Rory had died at the dreadful hands of a weeping angel, unable to enjoy any of his new misadventures. Before Clara, the Doctor knew that the absence of Rory and Amelia would send him down a path of risky choices and, ultimately, his own new pain to heal, as a fresh wound would cross over a scar. In almost a manic state, he thought he could pull off being a high school teacher. But not any teacher, your new science teacher. A part of him thought this would be an easy way to find a new companion one way or another. Whether it be a teacher looking for a new way to spice up their life or a young woman looking for a new boy to fawn over. The Doctor was a shoo-in for the job with mature teaching ability but with a kind, funnier side, keeping the topics of biology and chemistry light with jokes and foxy comments.

One of the few things he remembers about that year was when you talked to your friends. Quiet whispers during class would quickly become loud, bombastic laughter the minute the bell rang. He only listened when the conversation would turn to your secret crush on him. Your friends nudged you during group work whenever his eye lingered on you. The way they giggled when he made a vaguely inappropriate joke. But that was your friends; you were a different story. It was clear to him that you were smart, just purposely failing for one reason or another. Whenever he would pull you aside to speak about it, your eyes would glaze over as you watched his eyes sink into yours. The minute the conversation ended, you would run off to hide until your next class. You wondered why you couldn’t be normal about him. The Doctor was two years older than you, or so he said. But it could be that wrong, could it?

Your hands continued to pull up the blanket, pulling it over your head. At this point, you didn’t want to be reminded how much you desired the Doctor. How badly you wanted him to wrap his arms around you or whisper sweet nothing to you as your eyes fluttered shut. Still, you can’t help but listen. The couple is eating dinner peacefully, talking about their days at work. But out of your window, you see the Doctor’s car pull up just outside your building.

As he finally pulls up to your apartment building, he sees you with your orange blanket over your head, leaning against the wall. The Doctor glances up, watching you and thinking about the massive mistake he is making. The wind pushes his hair out of his face.

‘This can’t be the right thing to do.’ He thought as he opened the car door anyway. He continues looking up. That’s when your eyes meet his. You move away from the wall and walk to the window, looking down at him.

Panic sets in. As if you had summoned him using your mind into your apartment’s parking lot. The second you look back out the window, the Doctor is gone. The panic feeling suddenly gets worse. You sit back down on the couch, trying to avoid the future sound of a doorbell ringing. Your ears lead back to your neighbors, still eating and laughing.

Your doorbell buzzes, followed shortly by another buzz. The last thing you needed was a big, grand scene in your loud apartment building. The Doctor stands outside your door, waiting. He thought about how impatient he would be if this were any other person. If there’s one thing the Doctor knew about being alive, it was that time moved so much slower than ever. But as he thought, the Doctor realized the faint feeling of calm whenever he thought about you. That’s why he could never get mad at you for not answering the door. The two hearts in his chest beat like one. As the Doctor fidgeted with his fingers, soft rain crawled against the glass of your window, still not letting the poor man in.

‘This is a bad idea, right?’ The Doctor thinks as he opens the door to your apartment building and walks up each step.

The Doctor knocks on the door, waiting for you to answer. It's not like he can leave you after scaring you like that. The Doctor almost doubts you will answer the door, leaving him in his soaking wet clothes. He shakes his head. You are one of the sweetest people the Doctor has ever known. In his mind, you are the reason he kept running. Not to save the world across multiple timelines with different companions each time, shedding his skin every so often. But to find you every time, in every universe, and in the same apartment building.

You look over to the door again, still thinking about opening it. The series of unfortunate events goes as follows in your mind: You get up from the couch and open the door to the Doctor just awkwardly standing there; the two of you break out into a conversation about what he happens to be doing at your apartment on a Saturday night after work, he proclaims his love for you and you, out of fear, reject him. The Doctor goes on a big rant about how you should really give him a chance. But by this point, you can only hear your heart beating, so you slam the door in his face.

I mean, isn’t that the way it always goes?

Sure, you did actually like him, but it was not like you were planning on telling him anytime soon. It's not like you feared his reaction; the Doctor isn’t exactly at the top of the scariest individuals ever. And yet, your legs pick up for your body from the couch and walk over the door. You place your hand gingerly on the doorknob, turning it slowly.

‘This is a bad idea, right?’ You think as you open the door.

Upon opening the door, the Doctor’s head pops his head up. He smiles. You try to avoid his gaze, unlike how you did when you were a schoolgirl.

"Fancy seeing you here." You mumble.

The Doctor’s hand twitches as he hears you speak. It felt so good hearing your voice again, even though he had heard it earlier that day. You shyly look up, still avoiding direct eye contact. The Doctor’s eyes softly as he sees you look up. He could sense how nervous you were, but he wanted to tell you he wasn’t there to hurt you. In his arms, he would make everything feel good. "Listen, um," The Doctor started, trying to keep his thoughts in one place.

"I wanted to come here and say…" The Doctor’s voice trails off. He doesn’t know how to put this.

"You love me?" You reply, trying to keep your voice down.

The Doctor didn’t think it would be that clear that the feeling was that obvious. It didn’t help how you said it, so matter-of-fact, which you didn’t detect. Maybe you did know that you pulled your skirt as a sign of flirting.

That part was valid that, over time, you had been flirting with the idea of being with the Doctor. Including playing with your skirt when you knew he was looking. Sure, you did other things to get him to notice you, like wearing makeup to highlight your eyes or shorter skirts and tight shirts.

But he never bothered to actually flirt with you. It could’ve been possible that he thought you had a partner or, god forbid, you were married. You had never told him about such people because you had none to speak of. No lover to call your own.

"Um, yeah, something like that." He laughs awkwardly.

Your face flushed with the red hue of your blood, and your heart started beating faster. You thought you were going to die. Your eyes meet his. This has never happened before. A new feeling washes over you.

Love. No longer an innocent, flirty crush. He felt like a lover at that moment. You grab his face and pull him into a passionate kiss, dropping your orange blanket onto the carpet floor of the hallway. His lips were soft, although a bit wet. Meanwhile, the night sky became darker, and rain began to fall, hitting against your windows. The winds outside, once soft and free, became harsh and fast.

You pull him into your apartment, careful not to trip over or break anything. Your kiss was like that as well; it was unbreakable and wistful. You wanted him more than anything at that moment. He pulled away for a second and uttered the words you dreamed about hearing: "I want you."

The Doctor said he wanted you. Something just clicked in your head. Nothing was holding you back at this point. You begin to untie his iconic bowtie and unbutton his shirt, his tan blazer falling to the floor. The Doctor told himself to remain calm and sensual. One of the many things that made you squirm in your seat and have a slight blush on your cheeks was when he remained mysterious and alluring. That was the only thing that was a constant. He grabs your hips and pulls you closer to him, his nose ghosting over your neck.

You, on the other hand, didn’t care what he did. As long as your hands were on his body and vice versa, the rest didn’t matter. The last thing that mattered was staying calm. The Doctor lets out a soft moan. You place your body back on the couch again, looking at the man you’ve been craving all this time. He loved that your eyes flickered like a candle in the wind. Your body moved in a way that was borderline pornographic, slowly moving from side to side. He notices this and moves on top of you, his knee closer to your heat. It’s like he knew your body in and out, predicting your every move.

‘Gently, now.’ He thought as his hands moved closer to the side of your breasts, cupping them in his bony hands.

Your cunt twitches at the feeling. The Doctor held you like you were a wine glass. Which, in his mind, was the only way to touch you. He may have only known you for a few months; he wasn’t ready to let you leave his touch yet.

After all, he’s the only Time Lord left. He’s had so many companions that, after a while, it became hard to keep track of. After falling in love with so many different people, it felt impossible to feel that kind of love again. Then, he was in 1951, in the middle of a busy high school hallway, struggling to find himself or where his room was. A lovely young woman walks by, struggling to hold her books. The Doctor locks eyes with her and asks her the time. She replies: “1:30.” That was when the Doctor finally knew he was in the right place, at the right time.

The Doctor moves down to the neck, planting gentle kisses as he moves. You let out a soft moan, careful to make your neighbor not hear. Your mother always told you to settle down soon and have a husband to care for you. To be frank, she wasn’t clear about the husband part. Sometimes, a husband is an extraterrestrial from a distant planet, most likely older than one thousand years old.

"Please," you beg softly.

"Are you sure?" He asks, knowing he might regret it if you say no.

You nod your head.

He nods back.

The Doctor crawls down your body, taking in every part of you. Your biceps were held neatly above your head, and your breathing got heavier the lower he went. He positioned one knee on the plush carpeted floor. The Doctor's breathing slowed as the Doctor went under your nightdress.

The Doctor hooks your panties and pulls them down, exposing your wet pussy. He unthinkingly pockets the underwear, letting a part of the soft cotton peek out as a reminder of you. Taking a finger, the Doctor gently flicks under the hood of your clit. As you can imagine, sex isn’t something the Doctor doesn’t get to have often, so he is a bit rusty. He could feel his two hearts beat with every soft flick of his finger. Your body twitches for a second, praying for more contact. He suddenly got the idea to slip a single finger inside of you. Even the thought of the moans you would let out made his already hard dick almost painful.

"I’m going to put a single finger inside you, okay?" He stated, "If you don’t like it, tell me, okay?"

"Yes," You say softly.

"Yes, what?" The Doctor repeats.

You think for a moment. "Yes, Doctor."

He smirks, "Good girl."

His fingertip touches the wet walls of your cunt. His middle finger gently pushes against your G-spot, making you whimper.

‘She wants more.’

Of course, being the lovely Doctor, he continues to nurse your G-spot but starts to kiss your inner thighs. His lips were a faint red and slick with spit. Teasing was one of the many things he wanted to try, but he never found the right partner. He understood that this is what you needed. You felt so pent up with sexual frustration. Year after year, you felt more disappointed with the partners in your life, sexually speaking. And yet the Doctor, after knowing you for so little time, could read your body like a book. Through desperation, the Doctor managed to undo his tight belt and unzip his beige dress pants with his free hand. He starts to palm his cock through his boxers as he continues.

"Please…more." She whines, getting tired of all the teasing.

He chuckles, "Sorry, I got carried away. Don’t worry, I’ve got you."

The Doctor thrusts his ring finger inside, plunging slightly into your canal. As he glances down at your poor, throbbing clit, he notes that it looks like a pink pearl inside of an oyster. He places a gentle kiss on it and mumbles something inaudible. Your back suddenly arches up as the waves of pleasure carry over you again. Honestly, you hadn’t felt anything like it before. It almost felt inhuman. The whimpers were now replaced with a slightly louder moan. You start slowly grinding at the air, hoping for any contact with him. His touch on your clit was all you could think about.

"That’s it, good girl. God, you deserve this more than anyone right now." The Doctor says. The Doctor continues to work on your clit, starting with soft cat-like licks. His hands ran slowly up your calves.

This was it. The moment the Doctor had been waiting for, the moment to be close to you. It was never how he imagined it, but honestly, he would have cared less. To run his hands up your legs as the Doctor continued to tease you felt like something the Doctor would come up with on a boring night in the TARDIS. It reminds him of all the times he daydreams about unbuttoning those perfect blouses you always wore when there was an important meeting you have to attend. Sure, those types of daydreams were few and far between. It didn’t stop his sick imagination much from thinking about it anyway whenever you got just a little too close to his face.

You could hardly contain every moan or groan that came out of your body. It felt involuntary. Your soft hands move down and grab a part of the Doctor's luscious dark brown hair. The desire for him to be rougher with you was growing stronger by the minute. Sure, being romantic and sensual is always an idea you love. But this is the Doctor. Everything is different with him. With the Doctor, the romance could be thrown aside if he wants. If he wants to tie you up and degrade you, you are willing to buy the rope and let your eyes roll into the back of your skull for pleasure.

"More," you encourage, "Don’t be scared. I don’t bite."

The Doctor’s eyes look up at you, meeting your eyes.

Your eyes seemly convey everything he thought about on the humble drive over. The emphatic love you two have been feeling, along with the unchecked sexual tension the two of you also have. The Doctor went from soft and cat-like to expansive and slow. He relaxes the back of his tongue against your clit and moans, his delicate eyes still looking up at you.

The sense of human eye contact can be used in many ways. And it is clear that as your eyes start to flutter, you are closing in on your climax. The Doctor knows that he has to keep an invariant pace so as not to lose the orgasm. Most people would describe a good peak as “seeing stars” or “leg shaking.” Yours, however, was more like seeing a whole nebula and jittering. As the spasm came and went, your vision went from blurry to clear in seconds. You sit up on the couch, looking down at a kneeing Doctor.

Touching his cheek with your hand, the Doctor smiles, grazing his smile against it.

Your eyes go wide at a sudden realization, "Doctor, you didn’t–"

Before you can finish your sentence, the Doctor sits next to you on the couch.

"That’s not what matters. What matters is that you did." He spreads his arms out, pulling you into a hug. You roll your eyes jokingly and hug him back.

[solarissun]

We are never, ever getting back together.

afab!reader x aged up Clapton Davis

Summary: You moved houses and jobs just to get away from Mike after he abandoned you and your 6-year relationship. But, one day he shows up in the vacant apartment next to yours. You quickly make it your mission to make every night a living hell for him with the (unknowing) help of your old high school fling.

WC: 3.9k

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, enemies to lover, afab reader, p in v, fingering, hair pulling, porn with plot, no use of y/n, hard dom, unprotected (wrap it please), angst, exes, daydreamed violence, aged up character

A/N: I’ve never posted my writing before due to being insecure, but now that I discovered this fandom on Tumblr, I decided to suck it up and see where it goes! I’m sorry if this is bad, I wrote it at 3 am two nights in a row. I just had to write something before I forgot all my ideas. Enjoy!

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You hated him. You hated him so fucking much. All you wanted to do was watch him wear your hands around his neck like a necklace. And there he was, standing outside the vacant apartment beside yours, cardboard boxes surrounding him.

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You're running late to work, having slept through your alarm. You quickly hop out of bed, jump into the shower, and throw on whatever clean enough clothes are on your laundry pile.

As you run out your door, you pause, noticing the piles of boxes lining up the wall of the apartment next to yours. You smile, waiting for whoever it is to walk out. You honestly didn’t mind your previous neighbors. By all means, they weren’t the friendliest of people. They’d bang on your walls if you even played your music one digit too loud.

So, honestly, you couldn’t help but admit you were pretty happy when they moved out. As you eye the boxes that take up half the hall, you feel yourself getting excited.

After a few moments, you see him.

Your heart drops, and you feel your whole life falling apart in just one second. He turns to look at you, your eyes locked on each other. Both of you pause, not a word leaving your mouths.

Almost exactly 2 and a half years ago, the love of your life, the man you pictured spending the rest of your days with, left. He didn’t warn you, he didn’t even call. You came home, and all of his and his sister's belongings were completely cleared out of your apartment, gone without a trace. All he left you was a text. A single text.

“I found someone new, I’m sorry. I truly wish you the best. I hope someday you’ll forgive me.”

After a few months of rotting in your bed with mascara-stained pillows and tear-soaked bed sheets, you got tired of wasting away. You moved away to a new, cheaper apartment, not warning anyone of your departure. You wanted a fresh start. A new job, a new home. A new you. All you craved was a way to forget the past, and you were so close.

Except after 2 years, the past was standing in front of you, only a few feet away. Anger bubbles within you, the deep cuts he left when he abandoned you all of those years ago tearing open and filling with nothing but pure, burning hatred.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You say, his face twisting.. into god knows what. You want to ask him so many questions. You want to get on your knees and beg him to tell you why he did what he did. At the same time, you want to sock him in his mouth. Instead of doing either, you turn on your heel, walking away as fast as you possibly can.

He doesn’t call after you, he doesn’t chase you. Instead, you hear the faint click of a door shutting behind you. Your anger turns to anguish as you hurry down the hallway, trying desperately to put as much distance between him and you before breaking down. You find a maintenance closet, slam it behind you, and sink to the floor. You sob until your throat is destroyed and your eyes are dry.

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All you can think about while you work is him. Are you grading your students' homework? Mike. You’re yelling at your class for being too Rowdy? Mike. He lives in your head the entire day, and no matter how hard you try, all you can think of is the look on his face when he saw you just a few hours ago.

The school day is finally over, but you dread going home. You wish you could curl up under your desk and live there for the next few decades. But you can’t, so you suck it up and drive back to your apartment.

You get to your door, fumbling with your keys as you quickly try and escape the hallway. You hear the door next to yours click open. You rest your head against your door in defeat. He walks by you quickly, not even glancing towards you. You clench your fists, swinging your door open as soon as you unlock it, slamming it so hard behind you the frame shakes.

You want to cry, just like you did before. But no tears spill. Your eyes don’t even water. All you feel is rage.

You decide right then and there, you're going to make him suffer for what he did to you. Besides, maybe if you truly make him miserable he’ll move back to wherever the hell he came from.

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Later that night, you start plotting different ways you can get him to pack up his shit and run away with his tail between his legs. You think of hundreds of possibilities ranging from glitter bombs in his mail to… Clapton. You shake the thought out of your head immediately. You can’t do that to him. He’d probably be down for anything, to be honest.

Despite that, you tuck the idea into the back of your head, writing it off as a last resort. You want to start with more petty things before immediately jumping to the most extreme idea your mind can muster.

You quickly form a short list in your head, smiling as you daydream the look on Mike's face as you go through each scenario. Around midnight, after you finish coming up with every possible insane revenge plot you can think of, you crawl into bed.

After tucking yourself in, you Bluetooth your phone to a speaker, turning it up. You play the most infuriating, mind-numbing song you can think of. It starts blasting out, the speaker shaking on your bedside table. You sigh, sinking into your pillow as you hear Mike’s old bed springs creak through the wall.

You sit there for what feels like hours, the same song looping repeatedly. He doesn't knock on the door. You don't even hear him speak, let alone breathe through the wall. You groan, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you realize it might be pointless.

Despite your failure on the first night, you continue to blast the same song night after night, all with the same result. After almost 3 nights of getting only a few hours of sleep, you give up. You have to step up your game if you want to get results.

A few weeks pass without you tormenting him. You want to make him feel safe. You want to make him feel like you realized it was all a waste of time. Well, you also waited a few weeks since that's how long it took for the prank package you ordered to come. Sure, the package was a bit pricey, but you decided it was worth it either way. As soon as the post office stops by your apartment, you snatch up the box, almost ripping it out of the poor mailman's hands.

You quickly customize it so Mike believes not only is it his mail, but that some random man from Florida sent it. At first, you had thought to sneak into his apartment and throw glitter over everything, just like you'd do back in high school. But, you need to be careful about how you go about this. Unless you want a lawsuit to land in your lap, you need at least some amount of deniability

After deciding it's perfect, you leave it directly in front of his door. He might think the placement of the box is a tad suspicious, but you rationalize it by telling yourself he’ll feel so special he’ll open it on the spot.

After a few hours, Mike comes home from what you assume is work. A part of you wonders why in the world he works on the weekends as well. You forget about the thought quickly as you flip open your phone, watching through the camera that comes with the box. You watch in anticipation as you hear the sound of tape tearing off of the cardboard. Your smile widens as you see Mike's face appear in the frame, peeking into the box.

After a few heartbeats green, blue, and pink glitter explodes directly into his face. He yelps, dropping the box immediately. As soon as the box thunks against the door, more glitter explodes out, covering his entire living room. You hear him groan through the wall, grumbling about how petty and childish you are.

You’re laughing way too hard to even care he knew it was you. Tears start streaming down your face, and you clutch your stomach as you try to breathe. You finally got him. You feel on top of the world as you look at the camera through blurry eyes. All you see is a beet-red Mike decked out in sparkles. You start laughing even harder as he flips off the camera before stomping on it, destroying the feed.

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Despite how his misery made you feel at first, you start to get a little less happy as the days pass by. He hasn’t talked to you about it and he hasn’t told anyone what went down, not even the landlord. A fraction of you begins to feel a little worried he might be planning. As you ponder the thought, you hear a knock on your door.

You creep over to the peephole, seeing no one standing at your door. You crack it open, worried Mike might be standing outside, waiting to ambush you. Instead of Mike standing around the corner with an airsoft gun, there's an Amazon package.

You smile, realizing exactly what it is. You ordered soundproof headphones so you could sleep while also torturing Mike. You quickly take it to your kitchen, tearing it open without a second thought.

What. The. Fuck.

Glitter sprays everywhere. Directly into your eyes, all over your dining table, all over the countertops. It even reaches the sink. You scream as you try and claw the glitter away from your face. As you stumble towards the sink, glitter continues to coat your entire kitchen.

This means war.

You immediately flip open your phone, not even bothering to clean the mass of glitter that’s coating your kitchen. You text the one person you know would do anything for you.

“I need you, Clapton.”

He found someone new? Well, so did you. And you’re going to do everything in your power to make sure he fucking knows.

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During your high school years, you and Mike became inseparable. It was the two of you against the world... Until Clapton Davis came along. The three of you became the best of friends. You always knew Mike was jealous of Clapton and how much he captured your attention. Despite how you felt towards him while you were younger, you chose Mike. And he threw it all away for some random bitch.

So, now you’re choosing Clapton.

A month ago, you two decided to reconnect and reminisce about old times. You had him over a few times just to watch a few movies, but the most you’ve done is kiss. Every time he’d come over, you knew he wanted more. And he was getting exactly that.

You lay in bed, waiting for just the right time. Around 2 am, you smile to yourself as you faintly hear Mike shuffle into bed and sigh as he sinks into it. Thank god for the paper-thin walls. You reach over to your bedside table, squinting into the light. You flip to Clapton's contact and text, “Do you think you could come over right now?” You had originally told him to come over the next night, but it had to be at an ungodly hour, or it wouldn't be as satisfying. Almost immediately He texts you back, “Are you okay?”

“I just need to see you sooner.” He immediately texts back a thumbs up, and after a little over 10 minutes you hear a knock at your door. You unzip your hoodie, quickly making your way to the front of your apartment. You open the door and there he is. He clearly had just woken up, wearing a tank top and grey checkered pajama pants. A fraction of you feel bad for calling him over like this, but you push it aside and remember who’s sleeping just on the other side of your bedroom wall.

He raises his eyebrow, unsure of how to ask why you ‘needed him.’ You don’t give any explanation before you throw yourself at him. You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him. He sucks in a breath, clearly confused. That confusion vanishes when you press yourself against him, pulling his waist against yours.

He wraps his arms around your waist, walking you into your apartment. He walks you backward, your back hitting the kitchen counter. You whimper as you feel him hoist your thigh up, holding it as his hip. Suddenly, he pulls away. Your eyes flutter open and you look up at him, your eyebrow furrowed. You sigh as you see him looking at your kitchen in utter confusion. “What in God's name happened?”

The kitchen is still completely decked out in glitter. The moonlight slithers its way through the window, illuminating the sparkles, making it look like a thousand stars splattered against the walls. You laugh a little, brushing it off. “Nothing Important.” He seems like he wants to say more, but as you grind your hips against his, he immediately forgets it. He groans, bending down to press his lips against your neck.

You tangle your hands through his hair as you feel his lips brush your neck. He starts sucking the skin below your pulse, making you whine into his ear. You gasp as you feel his teeth meet the plush skin, nipping at the sore spot. You slowly start grinding against him harder as his tongue swipes across the already numb skin. He groans against your neck, his breath hot against it.

His fingers slowly brush down your body, leaving goosebumps erupting on every inch he touches. His hand reaches your waistband, fiddling with the elastic. You whine against his shoulder as his fingers dip lower, rubbing your clit through the thin fabric. You slowly grind your hips against his finger, desperate for more friction. He picks you up by your thighs, his fingers digging into the skin. You wrap your legs tight around his waist, holding onto his neck. He quickly carries you to your bedroom, throwing you down as he reaches your bed. He lays you down, sliding next to you.

He presses his lips against yours again, this time wasting no time to dip his fingers into your panties, not even bothering to remove them. He drags his digits through your folds, circling your clit. “Shit, you’re already so wet.” He gasps out. His middle finger teases your entrance before slowly sliding in. He slowly pumps in and out of you, curling his fingers on the spongy parts inside of you, hitting all the right spots.

“You like that?” He asks, and you nod, unable to form a coherent sentence. You feel him add another finger and your walls clench around him. “Fuck!” You cry out, frantically grinding against the palm of his hand begging for more.

He adds a third finger, and you see stars. He pumps faster and faster, bringing you dangerously close to the edge. You just barely overplay your volume, remembering Mike. As soon as your legs begin to shake, he removes his fingers, ruining your orgasm and leaving you feeling empty. Your eyes flutter open and you stare at him, whimpering.

He slowly puts the fingers that were just inside you in his mouth, cleaning them off. You bite your lip as he blinks at you through his long eyelashes, savoring the taste. He smiles down at you once he’s done, sliding your zip-up off your shoulders. He slowly undresses you, a pile of clothes beginning to form on the floor. He leaves you in nothing but your panties. His breath hitches in his throat as he studies every curve of your body.

You do the same to him, helping him pull his shirt off his head. Your hands quickly fly down to his jeans, unbuttoning them and sliding them down to his ankles. His tight grey boxers leave little to the imagination as you see the outline of his hard-on, begging to be free. You do exactly that, pulling them off of him. His dick springs free, hitting his stomach.

Your eyes trail along every vein and detail, taking him in. He’s average, but somewhat girthy. The tip is hard and red, already leaking with pre-cum, slowly dripping down his shaft. You reach out, your thumb collecting it. You stare into his eyes as you suck it off of the pad, a bittersweet taste spreading across your tongue. As soon as your thumb pops out of your mouth, he grips onto your hips, pulling him on top of you. He slides your panties to the side and you moan feeling the cold air hit you. He slides his tip through your folds, collecting the wetness.

You slowly sink down onto him, gasping as his tip enters you. He grips your waist harder, holding you down. “You can take it.” He moans out. He slowly pushes himself in a little more, and you swear you hear him whimper. You cry out, laying down on his chest. “Shit!” He goes inch by inch, and you groan louder and louder as he fills you out.

He pushes in, faster this time, and you finally feel his hips meet yours. “You’re such- Shit! You’re such a good girl.” Suddenly, he grabs you harder by the waist, flipping you over. You gasp as your bare stomach meets the rough sheets of the bed. He grabs your hair, pulling you against his chest, somehow hitting so deep you see white.

You moan out his name louder and louder as each thrust inside of you quickens. He shoves you back down against the bed, thrusting so hard the headboard begins to slam against the wall. You smile into the sheets realizing the torture Mike must be going through right now. “You’re taking me so well…” He grumbles out, pushing deeper into you.

The smile is immediately wiped off your face as he moves one hand away from your hair and slithers it down to your clit. He rubs circles on it with 2 fingers. You grip your fingers into the bed sheets, screaming into the mattress. Your vision starts getting blurry as the knot in your stomach gets tighter and tighter. Pure euphoria tears through you as his fingers quicken as well as his hips.

“I’m close-“ He groans out as your walls clench around him. He rubs faster and faster circles on your clit and your legs start to shake uncontrollably. You scream louder and louder, and your walls start to spasm. Quickly you hurdle over the finish line, coming all over his dick. You feel tears running down your cheeks as you feel him release inside of you, his hips stuttering.

You call out his name one last time before he pulls out of you, lying down next to you. He looks over at you, tears spilling down your face and your fingers still bunched up in the bedsheets. He laughs as you give him a shaky smile.

“I’ve imagined that since grade 12..” He whispers out. He reaches towards you, brushing your hair that’s plastered to your face with sweat. “Me too..” You smile, moving forward to press your lips against his. He kisses you back, pulling you on top of him. He smiles up at you, his face flushed.

“Round two?”

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Your eyes flutter open, the warm sun creeping through the blinds, bathing your room in a warm orange glow. You slowly reach next to you, feeling the muscles on Clapton's back. He stirs, turning onto his back. His eyes slowly open, and he slowly looks over at you. He stretches up, propping himself up on his elbows.

“I better go…” You get up as well, turning and placing your feet on the cold wood floors. You gather up his and your clothes from last night, handing them to him. After you're both dressed, you lead him to your front door. He opens it and steps out into the hallway, starting towards the elevator.

As soon as you hear Mike's door click open, you quickly grab Clapton's wrist, pulling him back towards you. You get on your toes, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him. He grabs your waist, pulling you against him. He slips his tongue in your mouth, his hand untangling your hair. After a few seconds, you pull away, resting your forehead on his.

“I’ll see you around?” He says, smiling. “Of course.” You grin, pecking his cheek. He unwraps himself from you, turns around, and walks away. He doesn’t even seem to notice his old best friend who is standing just a few feet away, watching.

Once Clapton’s out of sight, you turn to look at Mike. Oh, he looks absolutely wrecked. His curls are a tangled mess and the bags under his eyes are even deeper than you’ve ever seen them. He has the same look on his face you’ve seen him have when men would flirt with you on your dates. But, he also just looks.. sad. You expect him to turn back into his apartment and walk away but he speaks instead.

“The glitter wasn’t enough for you, huh?” You scoff, anger filling inside you at his audacity. “A girl can’t have fun?” He raises an eyebrow at you and a small smirk creeps onto his face. “You think I don’t know how purposeful that was? Do you have any respect for others?” You laugh, right in his face. His mouth twists into a nasty scowl, his stupid smirk wiping immediately off his face.

“Mike, I lost every bit of decency I had towards you when you abandoned me for some..” You don’t finish the sentence, instead letting his mind fill in the blank. He doesn’t look angry, he just looks disappointed. He looked at you like that when you were still together.

You’ve always hated that look.

He opens his mouth and closes it, clearly wanting to say something important but deciding against it. He shakes his head and turns back into his apartment, closing the door behind him softly.

You do the same, opening your door and sliding down with your back against it. You pull your knees up to your chest, rubbing the bruises on your sides that Clapton left. You rest your head on your knees and sigh.

“God, what am I doing?”

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[mosaickiwi]

Nails, TV, Moving

Rendacted paints your nails and 'asks' you to move in. 1.3k words, GN reader c:

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

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"Unfortunately for our contestant—" the host’s words get cut off as you press a button on the remote.

"Booooo," you jeered at the TV from your spot on the floor and changed the channel. 

Ren hummed softly at your voice, but didn't look up. Despite the dark bangs that obscure their eyes, you can tell they’re focused. He was happily painting your nails—the same shade of black as his own—at your request. He insisted you sit as close as possible on the blanket he laid down, instead of across the coffee table. He'd only ever painted his own nails after all, so the angle was very important to keep him from messing up. You were certain he just said that because he wanted the closeness.

The screen barely flashes a few frames before you're changing it again. A football game, a cartoon, a drama, and then—you finally stop. There's a couple wandering through a cabin, with a disembodied voice narrating all it had to offer. One of the many house hunting shows that came on every so often.

"Oh, this one's pretty." You put down the remote to watch. The couple head upstairs where the master bedroom is and your excitement quickly dies. "Maybe not. The bathroom is a huge let down."

Ren casts a glance up at the TV as the camera pans over the room once more. He took in the slanted ceiling, with the tub stationed on the lower end, lit up by an angled skylight. He didn't really see whatever problem you had. "What's wrong with it?" he asked.

"The ceiling is already so low. You'd have to fold yourself in half to get in that tub, tall as you are. And you'd probably hit your head every time you got out. We couldn't live there," you grumbled and rested your chin on your free hand, eyes never straying from the screen. "No way I'd put you through that."

You didn't notice how he perked up when your concerns involved him—you even said ‘we.’ A miniscule drop of polish fell on the paper towel under your hand. He wasn't sure if you were being considerate, or if your perfectly normal relationship was at the point of buying a home together. He hoped it was the latter. Either way, including them already planted ideas in their mind. "So then, what's our—your ideal home have?"

"My ideal home…" You’d only really thought about things you didn’t want, thanks to your current apartment. "I can't say I'm very picky. No holes in the walls, enough room to breathe, no rats," you paused for a bit—now they were in a rather awkwardly shaped second bedroom. "When I was little I wanted to live in a bounce house. Or have a freezer dedicated to ice cream."

Ren smiled while he carefully painted the nail of your pinky. "One of those is doable."

"True, but I'd rather not blow up my house every day," you joked and continued pondering. "The location is probably the most important, right?" He silently nodded in agreement as you went on. "Corland Bay's nice and all—having everything so close together makes things easy. Except sometimes I wanna fall asleep without hearing cars pass by or Violet playing games. It's much quieter here. Plus your bed is comfy."

"You're more than welcome to live here, Angel," he innocently offered. “Although maybe you’d enjoy somewhere more secluded.”

“Like just out of town? Not too far from civilization. I'd still wanna be near the beach." You watched the couple fuss about the kitchen in another house before you really processed what he just said. You turned to look at him for the first time since the show caught your interest. "Are you asking me to move in with you?" 

"Oh, is that what it sounded like?" His tone was full of shock, but you could see the way his snake bites pulled up in a faint grin. He examined your nails and lifted your hand once he deemed it finished. "I do have all this space, though. The library’s close by. Beach is a short walk away, too. No neighbors, no noise. I've never had a rat problem. I guess it hits all the marks f’you, doesn’t it, Angel?"

"Ren…" You rolled your eyes at his antics. 

"If you really want to move in that badly, I'm not opposed," he said teasingly. "Other hand."

You didn't respond just yet, merely giving them a playful side eye and placing your hand flat on the table. Gently, you blew air on your wet nails while he went to work. The noise of the TV faded into the background as you thought about his offer.

It was a big step to take. You already spent a fair amount of your time at his place. The ever-dwindling amount of laundry you did at home served as proof. Cohabitating with them wouldn't be much different from now. Ren always gave you space when you asked, even with his clingy personality. He was tidy, quiet, and never made a fuss—the perfect roommate on paper. The real issue was money. A place like this would cost way more than a librarian’s salary could pay.

"As much as I want to, I have to consider rent first," you thought aloud, causing him to stop and look up.

"Angel, you don't need to pay anything." His answer was almost immediate and it surprised you how firm he sounded about it.

You shook your head. "I know I probably can't do half, but I’d like to do my fair share. How much is your rent each month?"

"Well, actually," he stalled and idly rolled the nail brush in his fingers before putting it back in the bottle. The rent was one thing he couldn’t be bothered to keep track of. "...I have no idea?"

"How—what?"

"It's an automatic payment so I never think about it," he admitted, explaining further at your incredulous expression. "I mean I definitely saw it when I found the listing—and when I signed the lease. But I can't remember it off the top of my head."

You had a hard time believing what you were hearing. You knew your own rent by heart—it mocked you every time it took a chunk out of your bank account. A question about how he budgeted weighed in your mind, although the rather calm way Ren spoke clearly answered it: he didn't. It seemed obvious now; he'd been a frivolous spender from the beginning.

The blank look on your face made him a little worried. "Honestly, Angel, it’s not an issue. I’ve been paying it on my own just fine," he insisted. "You don’t have t’worry about any cost if you stay here, I promise.” He’d be happy as a clam to pay triple whatever he already was if it meant you'd move in. Hell, he’d even pay for you to live in one of the empty units next door.

"Fine then," you sighed in defeat, glancing towards the TV screen for a moment. The show was already ending. "If I tried to give you money you'd just find a way to give it back anyways.”

Ren let out a faint breath as if he was holding back laughter, but didn’t disagree. "So, how about it? Gonna move in?” he asked with a sincere smile.

You couldn’t help but smile the same in return. “Yeah, why not? I’d be crazy to say no. I can talk to my landlord and be out in a few weeks, probably.”

His excitement only seemed to grow at your words. He was radiating silent joy, fingers tapping rhythmically on the table as he uncapped the bottle of polish once more. You could almost imagine a tail wagging behind him as he tried to make steady brushstrokes over your nail.

“Are you really that happy?” you laughed and he nodded. “Maybe I should just move in tomorrow.” His hand barely slipped, leaving the tiniest streak of polish on the side of your ring finger.

“Oops,” he muttered.

[geekforhorror]

imagine riding aj GODDD

rodeo

pairing: aj x fem!reader

warning(s): SMUT (DNI IF YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH IT!), dom!aj, sub!reader, riding, unprotected p in v sex, dirty talk, pet names, fluff, etc.

word count: 725 words

a/n: not proofread since i wrote half of this at 12 am

"Just like that baby, just like that..." AJ groans while you're currently on top of him, bucking like a stallion.

He had quite a rather stressful day which was made quite clear when he came home to your guys' city apartment. You had noticed how tense his muscles were when you went to go hug him. You had asked him what was wrong and he told you about all the shit that had gone down while they were planning their next big heist. It had already been stressful enough with how little time they had to make this heist successful. He usually was good with dealing with stress, but the guy he had fought today in order to obtain C-4 really did it for him. When he finished telling you about all of it, you made him an offer that he wouldn’t and couldn’t refuse in a million years. You wanted to ride him.

Here you guys were, now ten minutes in, and both of you had been reduced to a moaning mess. Moans that couldve been mistaken for being in porn had begun to elicit from both of your guys' lips, but both of you were too much drunk on each other to care. You didn’t care about the noises that would for sure surface off the walls or your neighbors filing countless noise complaints.

"Jay...fuck," you breathily moan. Your hands had found their way to his beautiful locks to maintain your balance through the wave of pleasure given to you by riding his cock.

“You’re gripping me like a fucking vice, doll,” he grunts.

He wasn’t lying. Your tight cunt was more than inviting when it came to sliding his dick into it. It was like two pieces of a puzzle that fit so well together. He gently forced you even lower on him, which resulted in you taking in more of him. Despite having been together for a long time and making love more times than either of you could count, you were never used to how thick he was. You could feel him every inch of him sheathed inside your aching pussy.

“Fuck baby…don’t stop,” he moans while guiding your hips with his gorgeous hands.

“I don’t know how much longer-“ you raggedly pant.

“You’ve got this, sweetheart…I know you do,” he reassures you at which you frantically nod your head. “Come on baby, be a good girl for me,” he coos.

“Anything for you,” you whine.

“That’s my fucking girl,” AJ says.

You continue to glide on his cock like you had been doing, but he takes it one step further by moving his hips faster against you, giving you no choice but to feel him bottom out. You feel yourself unravel as he jerks himself deeper into your tight little hole. Molded to him.

“Such a big dick Jay…gonna cum-“ you cry out in ecstasy.

“You’ve done so well for me, darling. Cum on me… gonna feel so good,” he praises.

He then speeds up even more, which you didn’t know was even possible. AJ had gone from being passionate to becoming animalistic with his thrusts. That’s the effect only you had on him.

With him jerking faster inside you, you could feel your vision start to get blurry and pool with stars. You felt the hot coil start to form in your abdomen as he rutted like a man gone wild. Finally, his movements sent you over the edge and you felt your release spurt out of you and onto his dick. He could feel the way you spasmed around him and he swore he was going to pass away on the spot. The feeling of your cum smeared on him only made him want to cum faster.

AJ makes his hip bones meet yours and in doing so, he finally finds the right spot inside you that brushes his sensitive cock just right. He finally lets the hot rope of cum gush onto your already slick pussy. He rides out his high along with you and pulls out shortly after. You both then lay down accordingly on the now ruined sheets and look at each other with loving eyes.

“I love you, baby,” he whispers with his lips touching the ridge of your ear.

“I love you too Jay. Forever,”

“Forever sounds amazing if it’s with you.”

[venusacrossthestars]

right person wrong time? wrong person, a fine time.

Pairing- Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

WC- 2.2k

warnings- angst, Charles is an ass, swearing(?) italics represent flashbacks

f1 masterlist

Its been a year, 3 months, 2 weeks, and 4 days since Charles broke your heart. Its been a year, 3 months, 2 weeks, and 4 days since you last saw him. Its been a year, 3 months, 2 weeks, and 4 days since he said, ‘its not you, its me.’ Its been a year, 3 months, 2 weeks, and 4 days and yet you can’t fall asleep without thinking what could have been. 

All the traveling and distance was considered to be a curse during your relationship, now you were considering it a blessing. Monaco wasn’t a large country by any means, its own popularity along with its neighboring countries came from  tourist, travelers, and summer home owners. Meaning it was the perfect place to blend in with the hundreds of passing faces. Here you were hoping to go unrecognized. 

The first two weeks of your five week vacation were going swimmingly. You and a couple friends rented out a villa. You all swam, ate good food, shopped, sun tanned, everything you could imagine of a great vacation. 

It was a Tuesday morning and you and your friends were sitting out on the patio at some brunch cafe that was quickly becoming your favorite spot in Monaco when your luck of being incognito had run out. 

“Y/N?” you hear a familiar voice call out, and judging by the reactions of your friends you know exactly who it is.

Turning around in your seat to look up at the caller, you are greeted with the unfortunate sight of your ex-boyfriend. 

“Charles?” 

“Wow, its really you,” he seems surprised. 

“Yup, in the flesh,” you chuckle out uncomfortably. You shoot a look ‘help what do I do’ at your friends. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“On vacation, trying to enjoy the slow season before the fall.” 

“Oh that’s nice.” 

“Yeah.” Neither of you say a word after that. Your friends attention split between you and your ex.

After a moment of silence it seems that Charles finally gets the memo that you would like to get back to brunch, “I’ll leave you be, hopefully I’ll see you around.” 

You don’t reply, why would you lie and say you hoped to see him too? After the way things ended you were seriously hoping to never see Charles Leclerc ever again. 

The past few weeks had been rocky, you knew that. Charles had been having a few couple of weeks. A DNF at his home race, a poor performing car, pressure from the fans. You understood it all to be frustrating. Your work hadn’t been easy either. Someone had split their coffee on your silk piece for your show, you had to spend a full 36 hours having to re-sew the entire thing by hand in order to make the deadline. 

All you wanted right now was to curl up in your boyfriends arms, watch crappy tv and eat even crappier food. But it didn’t seem like any of that was going to be happening with the ominous ‘we need to talk’ text you got from Charles around lunch time.

When you entered the apartment it felt cold, empty, and overall unwelcoming. All the lights were off expect for the ones in the kitchen and sitting at the island was Charles with his head in his hands.

“Babe,” you began as you walked closer, “is everything ok? Your text gave me a bit of a start.” 

Charles doesn't respond and you move to rest your hand on his shoulder, he flinches at the contact as if he is repulsed by your touch. 

“I want to break-up,” Charles states out of the blue. 

Time stops, you swear it. The clock that hangs on the wall doesn’t move nor make a sound, the dripping faucet doesn’t let a drop of water fall, the quiet humming of the air conditioner is absent. All is still, except your rapidly beating heart. 

“What?” you croak out. 

“Its not you, its me.” Charles simply states, back still turned to you. 

“I find that hard to believe when you won’t even look me in the eyes.” You scoff, you can’t believe what you’re hearing. 

Charles shoots out of his chair and faces you. His hands flying up in the air. “I want to break up!” 

A “why?” escapes you  pathetically.  

“Its not you, its me.” he repeats. “The distance, me traveling for my job, you traveling for yours. It’s all too much. I’m not, I can’t do a relationship right now. It’s all too much.” 

“Charles,we talked about this just say the words and I’ll drop it all for you. You know this.” You tell him, referring to your conversation from a few weeks back that how you would take less responsibilities at your job if he wanted you too. 

“I can’t- I can’t do that to you.” 

“Oh but you’ll throw a two year relationship away,” now your angry. He throws this at you out of the blue. No hints, no major changes in his behaviors, nothing. 

“Y/N-” he beings but you are quick to cut him off.

“No, I deserve an explanation as to why this all of the sudden ‘this’ isn’t working.” 

“Y/N” he tries again. 

“It was all fine, yeah we had a few bad weeks but we have a gap week coming and maybe if we just try and relax we can-” 

“Maybe its because I don’t love you!” Charles now interrupts you. “Maybe its because I never loved you.” 

“Well now you are just being mean,” you weren’t going to cry. Why would you? It wasn’t like the man you have given your all too for the past two year was breaking your heart or anything? If you weren’t going to cry then what was running down your cheeks. 

“It’s the truth.” 

“You’re an ass. Typically Charles behavior. Run when things go though or don’t go your way. Too high and mighty.” 

“You don’t know what its like to be me, you wouldn’t understand.” 

“Then explain it to me! I have begged and begged you to let me in and all you do is push me away.” 

“It’s not that simple.” 

“Then you’re right. Its not me, its you. Its always you.” 

“Get out.” 

“What so now your mad that I agree with you?” 

“Get out,” Charles says again. 

“Gladly.” 

Two days have passed since you saw Charles at brunch and as much as you wanted to say it was nothing, you couldn’t. Seeing Charles brought up memories that you didn’t necessarily want to think about while on vacation. 

Today everyone was off doing their own thing, so you had the great idea to wander along the beach. Well it was a great idea until you heard your name being called, once again by no one other than Charles. 

Stopping in your tracks you turn to face the man who claimed he never loved you. 

“Are you following me?” 

Charles looks take aback by the question, “no?” 

You hum and continue walking, Charles follows. 

“I wasn’t kidding when I say it was nice to see you the other day. Its been a while, hasn’t it.” 

“Yup.” Exactly-1 year, 3 months, 2 weeks, and now 6 days,  you think to yourself. 

“So how have you been, anything new?”

“Been good, headlining my own show. Collaborations, sketching up new designs, same old same old.” 

“I saw. Congrats.” 

“Thanks,” you curtly reply. “Anything new with you?” Ever since the break-up you avoided looking at anything Formula 1 related. You can tell by his reaction that he didn’t know that. 

“Well, car is good this year. Still a little early to tell but I’ve got a good feeling about this year.” 

“That’s nice.” 

“Can we talk?” 

“Is that not what we’re doing?” 

“Well, I guess. I mean I want to apologize.” 

This stops you, you really didn’t want to have this conversation right now. You really never wanted to have this conversation ever. You turn now fully facing Charles, squinting at him. 

“I’m sorry for that night. I didn’t mean what I told you. You didn’t deserve any of what I said.” 

“I didn’t.” 

“That’s all you have to say?” 

“And that’s all you have to offer as an apology, after all this time?” 

“Well I’m not perfect.” 

You scoff, “see that, that right there is how I know you aren’t sorry.” 

“I am. I still love you. I was an ass. I was stressed. It was all too much. I truly wasn’t in the mindset to be in a relationship. I wanted to be a good boyfriend.” 

“You wanted to be a good boyfriend?” You chuckle, “if you wanted to be a good boyfriend you would’ve told me what was going on.” 

“You could’ve been a better girlfriend.” 

Typical Charles, is all you can think to yourself. You are now seething, emotions that have been pushed down and down, now surfacing. 

“I was willing to work it out,” you point at your chest, “all of the problems I was willing to work through for you.  I was willing to ignore the hurtful words because I loved you. I would’ve left everything behind. All of it. If it meant being with you. So don’t tell me I could have been a ‘better girlfriend’, unbelievable.” 

“Right person, wrong time.” Charles said quietly. 

You actually laugh at his statement. Was he high? At the beginning you might’ve thought that too. You loved him so deeply that you were willing to over look his flaws. But that night, that faithful night when he ripped your heart out and ran it over with his Ferrari you realized that someone who loved you would never do what he did to you. 

“No Charles, you were the wrong person at a fine time. The right person would try to work out their problems. The right person would listen to their girlfriends concerns. The right person wouldn’t tell the person they love, that they simply never loved them. The right person wouldn’t ask another woman to marry him not even a year later. And yet you stand here claiming to still love me. You wanted to be a good boyfriend, how about you focus on being a good fiance.” 

A look of hurt flashed over Charles face and for a moment you almost felt bad for him. But he hadn’t felt bad when he broke your heart. He hadn’t felt bad when he said that he couldn’t do a relationship and travel. He held no remorse for you when not even a month later he was seen with another woman hanging off his arms. And you know for a fact that he held no remorse when 7 months later he was asking her to be his wife. 

Yes, Charles the same man who told you that he wasn’t ready for a relationship was engaged to another woman. The same woman he was seen with not even a full month after he broke your heart. At first you thought he was cheating on you, who wouldn’t jump to that conclusion. But as much as you hated Charles he did surprisingly had morals. He might’ve met her when with you but you knew, mostly due to his hectic schedule, that he wasn’t cheating on you. 

“Speaking of which, how is the wedding planning going. Its been how long since the two of you got engaged?” You ask. You know how long its been. You know you’re being petty. You know asking about the engagement is a low blow. You should be the bigger person but there is something about the way he is looking at you that fills you with rage and sadness. 

“That’s none of your business.” Charles crosses his arms over his chest defensively. 

“Well I would say this has been nice but lets not kid each other. Charles I do wish you the best with everything, but please, don’t ever talk to me again.” 

You are quick to turn away, you don’t want to hear another word from him. This vacation was meant to be peaceful. You were meant to blend in and have fun. The last thing in the world you were expecting was to run into your ex. 

The once beautiful country of Monaco had now been tainted by the unpleasant memories of a time past. And you knew that no matter how much you loved the atmosphere, the people, the culture that you would never be able to wash the memory of Charles away. Charles Leclerc has officially ruined Monaco for you. 

That night after you recounted the story to your friends over a crappy bottle of tequila, you went to bed and did something you haven’t done for a year, 3 months, 2 weeks, and 6 days, you googled ‘Charles Leclerc’ and the first thing that that popped up might’ve been a surprise to everyone, but not you. “Charles Leclerc and long-time fiancée mutually call off engagement”. 

And for the first time in a year, 3 months, 2 weeks, and 6 days you fell asleep not thinking of Charles Leclerc and what might’ve been.

taglist- crossed out names mean I could not tag you

@arieslost @astrostar24 @aneverythingwriter @maryseesthings @boiohboii @lexiestarkey @scaramou @anedpev @simplyscorpio @the-untamed-soul @stupendousrebeldreamer @lyana344 @moonlightem @itsbwokenln4 @a-daydreamers-day @barcelono @naturallyspontaneous @bunbun9396 @meredithmeiz @clowngirlsstuff @jordy-jor5 @charlesleclerx @loveyatopluto @lewisroscoelove @graciearnold1 @saiteliites @oliveswiftly @lover122 @dear-fifi @onecojg @martaaairwin1994-blog @bigchrisevansmarvelsoul @sittingalonereads @fuckmylifedudee @hanniesdawn @leonie-swift @havaneselover08 @homosexualjohnwayne @bjralph @naaanasworld @dannyramirezwife @mileeen-aa @futuristicherobailifflamp @boherahpsody

[lacedinweb22]

Vampire Next Door ♱✮♱ Miguel O'Hara x reader

Chapter 4: Just a dream prev part

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

Bits and pieces of your nightmare flash through your mind, as you try to piece together the plot of last night’s storm. 

Pouring rain, screams, violent knocking on your door, bloody hands, crimson eyes, Miguel. 

You turn over to face the corner where he stood. You squint, the sun blinding you. The window is open a few inches. You swear you closed it shut last night. 

You stand up to inspect it. Slowly sinking into the window nook, you open the window up a bit more, letting the cool morning air in. 

There are faint scratch marks on the bottom of the window above you. Was that there when you moved in? You trace your fingertips across it, then push it further open. 

You climb out onto the fire escape. You look out onto the alley then turn back; you try to recall if you heard the scream from the alley or from Miguel’s place. As you turn to climb back inside, you notice a blood stain on the metal under you. You crouch down to observe it. You’re not a forensic investigator, but it looks kinda fresh? You wonder if there was more blood that the rain washed away. 

You look up for a dripping puddle of blood, but the steel above you is only covered in rust.

You climb back inside. 

Was the scream real? Could Miguel really have— no. You sound insane. But there was blood … and the window was open. 

You need some air. You get out of your apartment, go grocery shopping, even stop at a bookstore on the way home, and try to take your mind off things. These past few weeks haven’t been easy. 

As you drop your groceries in front of your door, pulling your keys out of your purse, your eyes wander to his door. 

Maybe he was drunk and stumbled into your place, or maybe the place is haunted. Or maybe someone was really in danger last night. 

Either way, you’ve found a good excuse to bother him, plus it’s a Sunday. He might be home. 

You knock. 

The door opens a crack, then once his eyes find yours, he opens it wide. 

“Oh, it’s you,” he says, in a raspy, morning voice. His deep tone rattles you a bit; it feels like you shouldn’t be witnessing him like this … so sleepy and … real.

“Good morning to you too,” you breathe out. 

Your heart skips a beat. He looks tired, disheveled, a beautiful mess. There’s some pink in his cheeks, and his hair is perfectly tousled. 

Your delusions have been fed, and the butterflies in your stomach are awakened. You wonder if this is how it would feel, waking up to him beside you every morning. You’d never be unhappy. You’d never get headaches. You’d never have nightmares, and if you did, you’d have this dream to wake up to.

He runs a hand through his waves. He’s wearing a plain gray tee, snug against his chest, his toned lower stomach outlined through the cotton and he’s in plaid … boxers. You try to ignore how light-headed this scene makes you. 

“Yeah, I— sorry to bother you but I—”

“Never a bother,” 

You smile, suppress a stupid grin, and remind yourself of the nightmare.

“Ha, yeah, I uh wanted to ask if you heard anything weird last night? I heard a scream, I mean maybe I was dreaming, I don’t know,” 

You want to tell him you saw him too, but that would sound … creepy. 

“A scream? No, I had a pretty quiet, peaceful night,” he says, confidently. Too confident. 

“Huh. Yeah, that’s the thing, I thought it came from your apartment. Yeah, it sounded like it came from the other side of my wall, which is you know … your wall,” 

He crosses his arms, leaning against the door frame. You look up at him and gulp.

“I told you, I had a quiet night, but maybe try the neighbors upstairs. They’re party animals, sex animals too actually.” 

You tilt your head at him, then stare into space beside him, processing his alibi. 

You furrow your eyebrows in thought, and his eyebrows furrow back at you, as he leans to the side to catch your eyes. 

“I’m still here.” 

“Yeah, I can see that. I’m thinking. Can I— don’t be weirded out, okay?” 

“Why would I— go for it,” he sighs.

“Did you, I don’t know, like somehow make it to my bedroom last night—”

“What are you—”

“I just— I saw you! In the corner of my room, you were soaked from the rain, and I think you had bloody—”

“Wow, new girl, you’ve known me one day, and you’re already dreaming about me?” He raises his eyebrows and leans down towards you, smirking.

“I’m gonna take that as a ‘no.’”

“Yeah no shit it’s a ‘no.’”

“You had bloody hands, and you were standing there in the corner of my room … I just thought maybe you had too much to drink or … smoke. God, excuse me for asking, alright?”

“I mean you know how crazy you sound, right? Me? With bloody hands? In your room? It was just a dream, Y/N. I drink responsibly–”

“Maybe it was symbolic and we just have to interpret this, maybe it means something,” you suggest, as his judgemental face becomes softer.

“Or maybe your fantasies are just freaky,” he suggests, smirking.

“Yeah, I knew I shouldn’t have told you,” you say, turning back to your door.

“No, no. I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m sorry, okay? I was kidding,” he blurts, stepping out of his apartment. 

You turn back around. 

“But, Y/N, could you do me one favor?”

You raise your brows, “God, what?”

“Please do update me on every guest appearance I make in that filthy brain of yours,” he says, his chuckles breaking his straight face. His deep, annoying laugh awakens the butterflies in your stomach to a flutter.

It echoes in your mind

as you roll your eyes and slam your door.

So he’s an asshole

and

a comedian, a side of him you never imagined you’d get close enough to see. 

You shut the door and your delusions along with it. 

***

next chapter here

[yelena-bellova]

Twenty Years Later: Joel Miller x F!Reader - Chapter Five

Chapter Five: Soundtrack of Life

Plot: Y/n, Joel and Ellie journey to Bill and Frank’s house, where Joel and Y/n are forced into a conversation.

Word Count: 11.2k

Warnings: tlou ep.3 spoilers, language, guns, canon-typical violence, mention of killing (16+)

A/N: You guys blow this thing up more and more each week and I’m blown away each time. I see all your lovely comments, even if I don’t respond. A gentle reminder that this is a 16+ fic and I will not be adding anyone to the taglist who does not have their name on their page. Gotta look out for younger eyes 👀

Regarding this chapter, I did NOT intend forit to be this long. I honestly thought because the episode was all about Bill and Frank that it would be the shortest, but here we are. It contains one of my favorite scenes of the entire series, I’ll let you guess which one it os 😉

—————————

May 16th, 2002. Austin, Texas.

Y/n considered herself a fairly confidant person. She kept her fear reserved for things like family emergencies, natural disasters…things out of her control.

Not first dates with men she’d known a week.

She was pacing her kitchen, heels clicking against the linoleum floor and her sundress swishing each time she looped around. Her hands wrung themselves against her abdomen. She had never felt so nervous about a date, not even in high school. She figured it was a warning sign of some type. Either she was making a huge mistake or a fantastic decision. She rested her head against one of the cabinets and prayed it was the latter…

Outside Y/n’s complex, Joel had just parked his truck. Dressed in a long sleeved plaid shirt rolled up to his elbows, jeans and dress shoes, he felt constrained. Like his chest had expended three sizes and the shirt was no longer able to accommodate it. Or was he just hot? Hungry?

Joel tightened his grip on the steering wheel and shut his eyes. He was nervous.

It had been at least one, maybe two years since he’d been on a date. A neighbor’s daughter that Joel had felt obligated to go out with so that it would sate his street in their constant attempts at setting him up. It had been much longer since he’d voluntarily sought someone out. Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself it wasn’t marriage. They were just going to dinner. If nothing happened, it wasn’t the end of the world…

Joel sighed, but he wanted something to happen…

He picked up the roses from the passenger seat, a nod to the night they’d met, pocketed his keys and stepped out of the truck. He felt dazed as he climbed the stairs to the second floor. 41B, Y/n had told him. When he reached the door, he hesitated to knock. Such a minuscule part of the night, but the mere act of coming to her door felt like the beginning of…everything.

Three raps broke Y/n from her panic party.

She’d put on an old record, hoping it would ease her nerves. It hadn’t done a thing. She stood up straight, drawing a deep and tried to force confidence through her body.

When Y/n opened the door, Joel lost any and all words he’d been thinking over in his head. She was dressed in a simple yellow flowered dress, but it was her wearing it that melted Joel. She looked like sunshine itself.

“Hi,” she smiled.

“Hi,” Joel exhaled, “Sorry if I’m late.”

Y/n looked at the clock near the door, “Only a minute. I think I can excuse that.”

Joel huffed a nervous laugh. What came next?

“These are for you,” he stated, holding out the flowers.

Roses. Y/n was shocked that Joel had remembered the tiny detail of their night in the bar. Tommy’s nickname was going to stick so long as she stuck around the Millers, she had a feeling…

“They’re gorgeous,” she giggled, “You’ve got a good memory.”

Joel gave a half shrug, rubbing his sweaty palms against his jeans after.

Y/n felt like her brain had stopped processing for a split second. She jumped back to reality, “Come on in, I’ll go get these in some water.”

Joel followed her into the apartment, shutting the door behind him. It was modest, minimally decorated but the walls had pictures strung all over them. He could already tell she was more sentimental than materialistic. The roses had been a good decision.

Y/n made her way to her kitchen, carefully balancing as she crouched down to dig through her cabinets for a vase. Flowers. He’d brought her flowers. What guy did that on a first date? Was that a Texas gentleman thing? She didn’t particularly care, it was one of the sweetest gestures someone had ever made towards her. And tying it back to the night they’d met made it that much sweeter.

“Nice place,” Joel called from the entry area. The apartment was open so if the front door was one end, the kitchen was stretched twenty feet away from it.

“It’s decent,” Y/n replied, filling the vase with water, “Moving was such a spur of the moment decision, I didn’t think I was going to find anything.”

Joel awkwardly balled his fists at his side, he didn’t want to walk too far and cross a line. It was only then that he realized there was music playing.

“Linda Ronstadt,” he blurted.

“Oh yeah,” Y/n smiled, heading over to turn off her record player, “You like her?”

“Love her,” Joel replied, good taste in music was another box ticked for him.

“Okay,” Y/n announced, more to encourage herself, and crossed the room, “All set.”

She grabbed her purse off the hook and Joel opened the door for her.

“Where are we going?” Y/n asked as she locked the door.

This was the part Joel was dreading most of all. “Yeah,” he began, shoving his hands in his pockets, “There’s a place ‘bout ten minutes away called Tito’s. It’s, uh, it’s not the fanciest place but-“

Feeling a sudden, and most likely brief, wave of confidence wash over her, Y/n turned around and put her hand on Joel’s chest.

“Hey,” she smiled, “I don’t care about any of that. I work in a hardware store, I’m not expecting Seasons 52.”

Weight both lifted and slammed into Joel’s chest. If Y/n’s laugh could warm it, her touch could give it new life.

A corner of his mouth quirked upwards, “Okay.”

With an affirmative nod, Y/n allowed Joel to lead her down the stairs, open the car door for her and take her deep into the Friday night Austin scene…

—————————————

Tito’s had ended up being the perfect place.

There was very little a fancy restaurant could add to a date. Sure, the setting could be romantic, but that didn’t guarantee romance. At the end of the day, whether you went to the biggest hotel in the city or a fast food joint, it all boiled down to feeling that spark.

Joel and Y/n’s spark could have set fire to Austin.

“So wait,” Y/n tried to contain her laughter, they were seated out on the patio, “Tommy seriously nailed his pants…to the wall?”

Joel took a swig of his Budweiser and shrugged, “And tried to blame the nail gun.”

Y/n covered her mouth as she snorted, “So no tequila the night before a job anymore, huh?”

Joel shook his head, pointing off into the distance, “And a mile down the road, he just shot straight up in bed because I told you that story.”

Another round of laughter. “Oh gosh,” Y/n sniffled, “Can’t imagine what you two were like as kids.”

“You have any brothers or sisters?” Joel asked, every time he asked her a question, he got to stare at her. It had made him more chatty than usual.

“Two,” Y/n answered, “Sister and a brother, both older.”

“Baby of the family,” Joel observed.

“Yes, and as the age-old tale goes,” Y/n scrunched her nose and smiled, “I’m the little lost bird. Brother’s an Ivy League english teacher who vacations in Europe every year. My sister’s married to a ridiculously successful doctor and just had a baby.”

Joel listened carefully, coming up confused. “I’m not following,” he said, wiping his mouth with his napkin, “What about that makes you lost?”

“They’re both very settled,” Y/n answered, swirling her beer, “They both knew exactly what they wanted in life and they went for it. One of the whole reasons I moved to Austin was to try and find that…thing, you know?”

Joel nodded, “Yeah, I get it,” he decided to lighten the mood, “And the hardware store’s it, huh?”

Y/n smiled and rolled her eyes, “No, the hardware store’s not it. But it makes me happy.”

“That’s a step in the right direction, then,” Joel commented, never taking his eyes off of her.

Y/n could have sat there for the rest of the night just enjoying the warmth of his stare. “So,” she shook herself out of the daze, “What about you? Is construction your thing?”

Joel laughed under his breath, “Pays the bills. Wasn’t originally what I saw myself doin’, but it’s work.”

“What did you want to do?” Y/n asked.

“Music,” Joel answered, “Guitar.”

Y/n’s eyes widened, “You play?”

“I used to,” Joel said, knowing the question that would come after. That was the true test…”Still do sometimes, just for myself.”

“What made you stop?”

Joel sighed, staring down at the condensation that his beer had formed on the table. Either he was about to bring the night to a grinding halt or…well, he hadn’t seen the second option yet. From anyone.

“I met someone,” he started, “We had a kid. She ran out on me pretty soon after. Not a lot of time left over to go around playin’ gigs.”

The chatter around them seemed to fade as Y/n took in the reality of Joel’s answer. He was a single father, and had been for a while, it seemed. All of him made complete sense suddenly. The constant worry lines on his face, the responsibility, the work ethic…

“Boy or a girl?” Y/n took a chance and asked.

“Girl,” Joel answered, a small smile coming to his face, “She’s about to turn thirteen.”

Y/n continued, “What’s her name?”

Joel was surprised, more than surprised, that Y/n wasn’t running the other way. There weren’t a lot of women who willingly took on single dads. Here she was wanting to learn about his little family.

“Sarah.”

Y/n nodded, letting the information rest on the table. “Sarah,” she echoed, “What’s she like?”

“She’s…” Joel let out a laugh under his breath, “She’s incredible. Gets straight A’s, plays soccer, got room in her heart for just about everyone she meets…”

Y/n listened enthusiastically as Joel told stories about his stories as a single dad. How Tommy was helping to raise Sarah, how the three of them were extremely tight knit, how he wished his long hours didn’t interfere with getting to spend time with her…not even for a second did she think about leaving.

“You love her so much,” Y/n blurted before she could think it through. She just had to say it.

Joel smiled warmly over his beer bottle, “She’s my world.”

It was a moment so tender, it almost broke your heart. Joel was letting Y/n closer than anyone else had gotten…ever. And she wasn’t pulling away, she was digging in.

Inside the restaurant, there was soft music playing over a dance floor. Joel and Y/n had eyed it all evening, wondering if their night would inevitably end up there. From outside on the patio, they could hear the song change to one they both knew.

“I love this song,” Y/n said in passing.

Joel had been waiting all night for his nerves to calm or for the perfect song to transcend pass the anxiety. This was as good as it was going to get.

“You wanna dance?”

Y/n’s smile spread across her face, “Yeah.”

Joel stood and held out his hand for Y/n to take, their palms tingling at the touch. He kept a loose hold on it as he led her into the building, snaking through the crowd and onto the dance floor. Their were couples packed wall to wall, but they were able to find a pocket of space just for them.

Y/n’s heart did double time as she rested her hand on Joel’s broad shoulder. Joel pulled her towards him, connecting their hands and holding them up. They hadn’t yet been this close and it felt as intoxicating as they thought it might.

Joel’s hand rested on the higher part of Y/n’s hip. He exhaled shakily, hoping she hadn’t noticed. Slowly, they began to sway to the soft guitar.

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you….

It’s strange what desire will make foolish people do….

They moved as one, Y/n’s gaze resting over Joel’s shoulder because she knew if she looked in his eyes, she’d be overwhelmed.

Joel’s desires were doing battle with his self-control. He wanted to wrap himself around her entirely, leaving no space between their bodies. He would, of course, leave it up to her. She got to decide where the night went.

I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you…

And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you…

Their chests brushed against each other, sending a thrill through their bodies. The second it started to fade, Y/n chased it, inching closer to Joel till their torsos aligned.

Joel’s head instinctively turned towards her just as she looked up. Y/n’s nose grazed his cheek, his beard delightfully scraping her skin. If they had intended to make eye contact, they never made it there. With Joel’s breath fanning her face and the scent of his cologne enveloping her, Y/n didn’t dare move and disturb the perfection.

No, I don't wanna fall in love…

(This world is only gonna break your heart)

Feeling confidant that she wouldn’t pull away, Joel’s arm slid around Y/n’s waist, his hand resting across her lower back. Y/n’s skin felt inflamed, like the building’s walls had fallen and the heat of the night was swallowing her whole. Her cheek fell against Joel’s closing the very last bit of space that laid between them.

No, I don't wanna fall in love…

(This world is only gonna break your heart)

With you…

That was it, it was a done deal. There was nothing left for them to do but let themselves fall. Their hearts hammered in time with one another, their respective anxiety intertwining at the base of their souls and transfiguring. Instead of a storm, raging, crashing, knocking them over, it became a wave, powerful and passionate. Drawing strength from each other, they allowed the full force of their feelings to flood them.

When the night was over, Joel drove Y/n back to her apartment. They’d chatted on the drive over, but the dance had left them both stunned. Where was there to go from there? What were they supposed to say when a whole conversation had been had in each other’s arms?

They walked up the stairs, coming to Y/n’s door and nervously pausing.

“I had a great time,” Y/n said, fiddling with her keys in one hand.

“Me too,” Joel smiled, broader than his usual thin lipped smirk.

The space between them grew tense. Who was supposed to ask who out for a second date? Were they supposed to kiss? What was-

“So…” Joel set aside all his excessive thoughts, “Did I earn a shot at a second date?”

A laugh rippled through Y/n’s body, thankful that he’d been the one to bring it up. Drawing from Joel’s confidence, she closed the space between them and placed a hand on Joel’s shoulder.

“I think your chances are pretty good,” she softly told him.

Joel’s heart throbbed at both Y/n’s touch and her words. His hand found its way to her waist, not wanting to let the closeness go just yet. They only needed to move a few inches, just a few measly inches and then they’d have it all.

Joel’s breath fanned Y/n’s lips as they allowed themselves to be drawn into one another. The delicious space, hanging on the edge of desire and satisfaction, was enough for them. That was how they knew there was something different to what they felt. Just to be close was enough.

“Maybe we should wait,” Y/n whispered in their shared space, pressing her fingers into Joel’s shoulder a little, “Wouldn’t want to rush anything.”

The tip of Joel’s nose rubbed hers, admitting a defeat that didn’t feel like one. “Wouldn’t want you to think you can take advantage of me or somethin’,” Joel smirked, “I have my reputation to think of.”

Y/n’s laugh mingled with Joel’s, her skin tingling as he brushed a stray piece of hair from her face.

“I’ll call you,” Joel assured.

“I hope so,” Y/n smiled before daring to press her lips to his cheek, “Goodnight, Joel.”

“Goodnight,” Joel choked out, the touch of her kiss paralyzing him.

She unlocked her front door and headed in, Joel stood on the welcome mat until the lock clicked. Alone in the concrete hall, he boyishly kicked his foot and grinned.

Y/n rested her forehead against the front door, shaking her head and grinning.

Joel got down to his truck, started it up and fell back in his seat.

Y/n laughed against the door, playing the night back in her head.

Joel smiled and slapped the steering wheel.

They felt weightless.

—————————

2023. Outside Boston.

Grief hung like a storm cloud over the group.

Y/n had left Joel and Ellie to make a lavatory out of nature, and was walking back. They’d camped overnight in a forest, a few miles outside of Boston. Joel had instructed they were leaving as soon as the sun came up.

When she got back to their camp, she found Ellie sitting up against her tree near the creek, Joel’s jacket draped over her legs.

“He’s still not back?” Y/n asked.

“Nope,” Ellie popped her lips.

Y/n rolled her eyes, if Joel was going to boss them around, he needed to comply with his own demands. She set off into the forest, going the same way he had.

The sound of the larger creek welcomed her. She scanned the area, looking for Joel’s tall frame and finding nothing. She slapped her hands against her legs in a shrug, if anything had happened to him, they’d be dead too. Where was-

The scrape of stones caught her ear.

Y/n gazed down to see Joel, hunched over on the river’s bed of rocks. With a fair bit of distance between them, Y/n could see him stacking stones. He was building a cairn.

He was building Tess a grave.

Y/n’s feelings contradicted themselves. Joel’s loss of the woman he cared for felt karmic, in a way, and yet the sight of him, so broken and empty, reminded her that bitterness had no place commingling with loss.

She didn’t disturb his memorial, she simply leaned against a nearby tree. Tess’ last wish hadn’t been selfish, she had begged for protection for Joel. They were, perhaps, the most heartbreaking final words Y/n had ever heard. She’d promised Tess, what else was she supposed to do? She couldn’t let Tess die in a horrific sacrifice thinking that Joel would meet her soon after.

Y/n sighed, letting her head hit the tree. The day was already exhausting her.

She decided to let Joel have a few extra minutes, walking back to their campsite. Ellie was in the exact same position as when she left. All of this trauma was being rehashed for one girl, but Y/n still believed she was worth it.

Footsteps behind her signaled that Joel was back from his solitary service. He didn’t look in either Y/n or Ellie’s direction, only trudging to his backpack and squatting beside it. It had been a near silent walk from Boston, Ellie asking Y/n an occasional question or Joel giving directions. They were all avoiding each other for different reasons.

Joel blamed Ellie.

Y/n blamed Joel.

And Ellie blamed no one, but could sense tension when she saw it.

“You want your jacket back?” Ellie asked Joel, testing the waters.

Joel continued digging through his backpack, responding with a small shake of the head. He still refused to look at her. The only gesture he made was after digging out and taking a bite of food, he threw the remainders to Ellie.

“I’ve never been in the woods,” the girl continued talking, “More bugs than I thought.”

Y/n leaned up against a tree, waiting and watching how the interaction played out.

“Look, I’ve been thinking about-“ Ellie started.

Joel rose to his feet, throwing his backpack over his shoulder, “I don’t want your sorries.”

Ellie sat forward, “I wasn’t gonna say I’m sorry. I was gonna say that I’ve been thinking about what happened. Nobody made you or Tess take me. Nobody made you go along with this plan. You needed a truck battery or whatever, and you made a choice. So don’t blame me for something that isn’t my fault.”

Joel’s eyes scanned Ellie before looking to Y/n, who simply raised an eyebrow at him. She was in total agreement. And the truth was, Joel didn’t have a reason to put any of what happened on Ellie. But he wanted someone to be angry with, someone to fling his grief at so that he wouldn’t have to deal with it any longer.

The rational side of him won out. He gave Ellie a small nod, mentally collected himself and picked up his rifle. It was time to hit the road.

Ellie got up and handed Joel his jacket, “How much longer?”

“Five-hour hike,” he answered.

Y/n collected her backpack, tied her jacket around her waist and came to stand with Ellie.

“We can manage that,” the girl shrugged, she was the most confidant out of all three of them.

Joel glanced over at Y/n again, the two of them communicating their indifference wordlessly, before turning on his heel.

Y/n put a hand on Ellie’s head and waited for Joel to be out of earshot, “Attagirl.”

Ellie smiled up at the woman and they fell in step a few feet behind their guide.

Joel got them out of the woods and onto a dirt path, leading their party silently and expecting the same in return. Y/n was perfectly content not to utter a word, but Joel was quickly learning something she already knew; Ellie didn’t do “quiet.”

“You’ve gone this way a lot? No infected?”

“Not often, no,” Joel answered.

“What are you looking out for?” Ellie asked.

“People.”

“Oh,” she rested a beat, “Are Bill and Frank nice?”

“Frank is.”

Y/n stepped forward to walk alongside them, keeping to Ellie’s side. “You haven’t told us anything about them,” she spoke up.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Joel answered.

“I’m entrusting two strangers with our lives,” Y/n scoffed, “There’s a lot to tell.”

“They’re good,” Joel said with finality to his tone.

“Oh, well…” Y/n mumbled under her breath, she was over the whole What-I-Say-Goes front.

Ellie was undeterred by their bickering. “How’d you get that scar on your head?”

Joel sighed, already exasperated and it was barely morning.

“What? Is it something lame?” Ellie inquired excitedly, “Like, you fell down the stairs or something?”

“I didn’t fall down any stairs,” Joel answered.

“Okay, so what then?”

Joel paused before speaking, “Someone shot at me and missed.”

Y/n hated the jolt of concern that shot through her chest. Old habits and all that.

“See, that’s cool,” Ellie insisted, “You shoot back?”

“Yeah,” Joel said.

“You get him?”

“No, I missed too. It happens more often than you think.”

Ellie thought it over, “‘Cause you suck at shooting or, like, in general?”

Joel glanced at her, vaguely insulted, “In general.”

Ellie fell back a step to get a look at Y/n. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Y/n echoed.

“How’d you get this scar?” Ellie poked the white mark on her bare shoulder. She didn’t feel comfortable touching Joel, but she was comfortable with Y/n.

By now, Y/n had scars littered all across her body. Ellie could have pointed to almost any one of them and she would have had to think about where it came from. But the one in the rivet nestled between her scapula and her clavicle was one she could never forget.

“A bullet ricocheted off a wall,” she answered, “Hit me instead.”

“That’s slightly less cool than his,” Ellie commented.

Joel caught himself before he hung back a step to get a look at the mark. It was instinct to worry about her.

“You know, seeing as it’s just the three of us,” Ellie began, “I was thinking I should prob-“

“No,” Joel cut her off, already knowing what she was after.

“Yeah, well, Y/n might feel different,” Ellie said, looking to her only ally.

“She doesn’t,” Y/n answered, smirking slightly at her blind enthusiasm.

They walked a few more feet before coming up on a once-white building.

“Cumberland Farms,” Ellie read the sign.

“Hang back a minute,” Joel instructed them both, though he knew it was useless, “I gotta grab some stuff I stashed.”

“Stashed?” Ellie questioned as she followed, “Why do you have stuff stashed here?”

“You ask a lot of damn questions,” Joel complained.

“Yes,” Ellie smiled, owning every bit of her personality, “I do.”

Joel forced open the door to the old storefront and they entered. It looked just about the same as how he and Tess had left it a few years back.

“So are you gonna answer me or what?” Ellie continued.

Joel relented, “We hide supplies on routes, in case we find ourselves short on gear, which I currently am ‘cause-“

“No way,” Ellie zipped over to the other side of the room, honing in on an old arcade game.

Joel ignored her, Y/n simply smiled to herself.

“You ever play this one?” Ellie asked without really seeking an answer, “Oh, I had a friend who knew everything about this game. There’s this one character named Mileena, who takes off her mask and she has monster teeth-“

While Ellie continued chattering, Joel was pacing the floor, trying to remember where his hiding place had been. Y/n crossed her arms and watched amusedly.

“You forgot where you put your stuff,” Ellie stated.

Joel was quick to defend himself, “No, I’m just zeroing in on it. It’s been a couple of years.”

Ellie and Y/n peered over at one another, sharing a knowing smirk.

“Go see if you can find anything in back,” Y/n instructed, Ellie would have gone even without the prompting, “Practical.”

“Trust me, it’s all been picked over already,” Joel grunted, shaking a wall display.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Ellie replied in a sing-song tone, “Is there anything bad in here?”

“Just you,” Joel called out.

“Ah,” Ellie rolled her eyes, “Getting funnier…”

Y/n set down her backpack, deciding to help speed up the process so they could get back on the road. She walked over to a section of floor that Joel hadn’t searched yet and started kicking around.

“I don’t need help,” Joel muttered.

“If we leave it to you and your shitty memory,” Y/n strained as she shoved a shelving unit with her shoulder, “We’ll be here till dark.”

Joel didn’t want to get drawn into an argument, he also couldn’t resist the person starting it. “My memory’s fine.”

“Oh, really?” Y/n waved a hand across the floor, “Point to the treasure.”

Joel’s lips thinned in frustration, mostly with himself for not being able to find the stash before she latched onto it.

“It’s somewhere on this aisle,” he begrudgingly told her.

“This aisle,” she repeated, the two of them going in opposite directions.

After a minute or two, there was a sound from the back room. “You all right back there?” Joel called.

“Yep!” Ellie replied.

“How likely is it that she’s doing something she shouldn’t be?” Joel asked Y/n, who had weeks more experience curbing Ellie.

Y/n jumped in place on a loose piece of the floor, “100%.”

Joel exhaled and continued searching, eventually feeling a slight raise in one of the tiles. He kicked a few old newspapers aside to discover his hiding spot. And better yet, he’d found it before Y/n did, taking away the opportunity for gloating.

He knelt down and flipped open his pocketknife, cutting open the cover and removing it.

Y/n stopped her hunt and came to crouch down next to him, visually sifting through the supplies. There wasn’t much.

It went against Joel’s natural programming to not be concerned when the back room went silent. Ellie had been gone long enough to have picked through everything at least twice. “Ellie?”

No response.

Now Y/n was on edge as well, rising with Joel. She raised her voice a little louder than him, “Ellie?”

They both unholstered their guns, walking in rhythm together towards the back room. Joel stuck a hand out to form a barrier between whatever unknown threat might have been lurking and Y/n. She annoyedly shoved it away and aimed her gun at the doorway.

They unclenched when Ellie walked out, touting a box of tampons. “Picked over, my ass,” she commented.

Y/n and Joel returned to the stash, Joel unloading his assault rifle and Y/n picking through a tin of first aid supplies.

“What are you doing?” Ellie asked Joel.

“There’s not much ammo out there for this thing,” he replied, bringing the lid back down over the supplies, “Makes it mostly useless.”

Ellie saw an opportunity, “Well, if you’re just gonna leave it there…”

Joel stood to his feet and made direct eye contact, “No.”

Y/n stood up, slung her backpack over her shoulder and lightly pushed Ellie ahead of her. Tess was no longer there to keep occupy Joel and she wanted to put as much space between the two of them as possible.

They were on the dirt road for another hour or two, time didn’t seem to matter in the middle of nowhere. Ellie barely complained, content to take in all that nature had left to offer. At some point, Y/n and Joel had fallen in step with one another. Even sworn enemies would have cracked under pressure and started hurling insults at one another. Their ability to stay silent with one another was unmatched.

“So,” Ellie eventually killed the quiet, “Are you ever going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?” Y/n replied.

“Why you two broke up.”

Joel scrunched his eyes shut, the darkness of his lids a more preferable place to be.

Y/n took the hit and answered, “We never said we dated.”

“You didn’t have to. You knew each other in Texas but you don’t talk,” Ellie began to list off her reasons, “And when you do talk, it’s only to fight.”

“Friends fight too,” Y/n suggested.

Ellie scoffed, “Not like you two.”

There was passion that bled through Joel and Y/n’s arguments that was only born from love. It was one thing they’d never be able to change.

“You don’t need to say anything,” Ellie continued, “I’ll just know that I’m right.”

Joel stopped short, putting a hand up to Ellie and trying to stay calm. “You do not need to say every fuckin’ thing that pops into your head,” he said, driving certain syllables harder than others.

Ellie was unfazed by him, turning her gaze to Y/n. “Was he always this grumpy?”

Y/n sighed, her time in Austin was a piece of her past she didn’t want anyone having. The obviousness of her and Joel’s fractured connection bothered her, it made it that much harder to sever it entirely. She picked up the pace again, getting ahead of Joel and Ellie.

Joel’s eyes followed her, something inside of him twinging against his will. He spared a glance at Ellie and continued on the path.

“Yeah,” Ellie smiled to herself, “They dated.”

They walked a little further before Ellie got distracted by something in a field. “Holy shit,” she exclaimed.

Up on a hilltop lay the rusted remains of a plane crash. The three of them stopped, it was getting harder for Joel and Y/n to remember a world where things like airplanes had existed.

“You fly in one of those?” Ellie asked,

“A few times, sure,” Joel answered.

“Yeah,” Y/n said.

Ellie’s excited eyes scanned the wreck, “So lucky.”

“Didn’t feel like it at the time,” Joel recalled, “Get shoved into a middle seat, pay twelve bucks for a sandwich…”

“Or hit turbulence,” Y/n remembered.

“You got to go up in the sky,” Ellie stated, her voice filled with wonder. Another simple pleasure stolen from her…

Joel had always been more of a realist than Y/n, who wanted Ellie to hold on to whatever pieces of happiness she could. “Yeah, well, so did they,” he added, killing the levity of the moment.

“Grim…” Ellie commented as they continued walking. “So everything came crashing down in one day?”

“Pretty much,” Joel answered, giving Y/n space to interject. She’d gone silent again.

“How?” Ellie asked, “I mean, no one was infected with Cordyceps, everybody’s fine, eating in restaurants and flying in planes. And then all at once? How did it even start? If you have to get bit to be infected, then who bit the first person? Was it a monkey? I bet it was a monkey.”

Y/n almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. Almost.

“It wasn’t a monkey,” Joel answered, “I thought you went to school.”

“FEDRA school,” Ellie replied quickly, “They don’t teach us how their shitty government failed to prevent a pandemic.”

Joel sighed, he couldn’t fault her for wanting to know how her world was destroyed before she’d even gotten there.

“No one knows for sure, but, best guess,” he began, “Cordyceps mutated. And some of it got into the food supply. Probably a basic ingredient like flour or sugar. There were certain brands of food that were sold everywhere, all across the country, all across the world. Bread, cereal…”

Joel and Y/n didn’t have to look at one another to know they were having the same thought.

“Pancake mix,” Joel continued, “You eat enough of it, it’ll get you infected. So the tainted food all hits the store shelves around the same time, Thursday. People bought it, ate some Thrusday night or Friday morning. Day goes on…they started to get sick. Afternoon, evening, they got worse,” Joel paused, a flash of blood coming to his mind, “Then they started bitin’.”

Y/n shut her eyes, as if it was all playing out in front of her again.

“Friday night,” Joel was able to push out, “September 26th, 2003. And by Monday, everything was gone.”

Y/n didn’t know whether to scream or stay quiet. Her entire world had come crashing down in a span of 72 hours.

“It makes more sense than monkeys,” Ellie said, then looked at Joel, “Thanks.”

“Sure,” he replied. Joel still wasn’t sure what to do with her, but he was trying. He only had to try for a few more hours, anyway.

Y/n kept her eyes down as she walked, only stopping when Ellie and Joel fell out of step. Joel had his arm stretched over Ellie’s chest to keep her in place.

“What now?” Y/n asked, nearing her breaking point with patience.

“We’ll cut across the woods here,” Joel directed.

“Isn’t the road easier?” Ellie asked.

“Yeah, it’s just,” Joel took a breath, looking ahead to Y/n, “There’s stuff up there you shouldn’t see.”

Y/n chortled, she couldn’t take any more of his mood swings. One minute he didn’t care, the next he was watching out for their sensitive eyes?

“Well, now I have to see,” Ellie sang, walking ahead to join Y/n.

“I don’t want you to,” Joel pushed.

“Newsflash, Joel,” Y/n announced, “It’s the fucking apocalypse. We’ve all seen things we don’t want to see.”

Joel paced after them, chasing Ellie more than his ex, “I’m not kidding. Ellie!”

“Can it hurt us?” Ellie asked as Y/n fell behind her.

“No,” Joel answered truthfully.

She spun around to face him as she strolled, “You’re too honest, man, Should’ve said axe murderer.”

While Ellie walked ahead, Joel sped up to match Y/n’s pace. “I’m serious, she shouldn’t see it.”

“You know what,” Y/n didn’t break stride, “I’m sure our delicate little sensibilities can handle whatever it is.”

Anger is intoxicating, but it can also be all-encompassing. It can numb all other senses, blinding all other emotions until the red is staining every part of someone’s perspective. Y/n’s rage with Joel was deceiving her into thinking everything that came out of his mouth was either an insult or an overreaction. Joel knew that the second she found what he was trying to shield her and Ellie from, she’d regret it instantly. But it was futile to fight her.

“Uh, whatever it was,” Ellie called from the front of the group, “Think it’s gone.”

Y/n felt sure of herself as she trudged on, until the details of Ellie’s expression came into view and she followed the girl’s eyes. There in a ditch, lay skeletal remains. If you reconstructed them, they probably made up about a dozen people.

“About a week after Outbreak Day, soldiers…” Joel started to explain to Ellie, “Went through the countryside, evacuated the small towns. Told you you were going to a QZ, and you were…if there was room…if there wasn’t…”

“These people weren’t sick?” Ellie inquired.

“No,” Joel replied, “Probably not.”

“Why kill them?” Ellie continued, “Why not just leave ‘em be?”

“It was their fucked up way of trying to contain the infection,” Y/n spoke up, trying to hide her trembling breath. It wasn’t the first open grave she’d seen, this was one of the easier ones to stomach. This was all bones.

Y/n turned on her heel, eager to get as far away from the hellish memories as she could.

————————————

Eventually, they made it to where Joel told them Bill and Frank lived. It was a small chunk of a town completely gated by a tall fence.

“Stay here,” Joel instructed Y/n and Ellie before punching in the entry code on the gate’s keypad. He let them go through first, it was the only place safe enough to do so.

Y/n’s breath caught in her chest, it was the first time she’d seen an actual town in…she’d lost count of the years. The white picket fences, the boutique shops, the houses. Actual houses. It nearly brought tears to her eyes, it reminded her so much of Austin.

The three of them walked to Bill and Frank’s house, the nicest looking one on the block. Joel took notice, however, that the flowers decorating the front porch were dead. Scorched by the sun. Bill would never let that happen.

He opened the front door, taking cautious steps into the entryway. Y/n and Ellie followed close behind.

“What the fuck,” Ellie elongated, it was probably her first time inside an actual house.

“Bill?” Joel called out. No answer. “Frank?” Nothing.

Shit.

“You stay there,” Joel directed Ellie, not looking Y/n’s way since she was going to do what she wanted anyway, “Ya hear anything, you see anything…yell.”

Joel and Y/n didn’t make it more than one step before Ellie spoke up, “What if they’re gone?”

No. Joel couldn’t think about that. He didn’t want to grieve over one more person.

Y/n set off down the hallway, keeping her pistol drawn at her side. Joel had gone through the kitchen, but the two rooms were connected. They made it to the bedroom door at the same time, Joel knocking and jiggling the knob. Nothing.

“Would they leave?” Y/n asked.

“No,” Joel shook his head.

The back porch door shutting got their attention.

“Ellie?” Y/n called, getting nothing in return. She set off back to the dining room where they’d left her, Joel just a step behind.

She was sitting at the table holding a piece of paper. Her expression was undeterminable, like she was between emotions and deciding which one to land on.

“It’s from Bill,” she finally told them.

Y/n sighed, holstering her gun, taking off her backpack and settling into a chair between Joel and Ellie. Joel put away his weapon too, neither of them needed to pretend there was any hope.

Ellie scanned the envelope the letter had come from, “‘To whomever…but probably Joel,’” she tossed it back onto the table, “I figured I fell under “whomever.” It came with this.”

She slid a single car key across the table.

Joel shrugged his backpack off next to Y/n’s, but wouldn’t sit. “So they’re dead?”

“Mm-hmm,” Ellie hummed.

Joel turned away, the very little emotion he let himself feel coming to the surface.

“You-you wanna?” Ellie offered.

He shook his head, “Go ahead. You do it.”

Y/n leaned against her knees, holding her hands to her lips, bracing herself.

“August 29th, 2023,” Ellie began to read, “If you find this…please do not come into the bedroom. We left a window open so the house wouldn’t smell, but it will probably be a sight. I’m guessing you found this, Joel, because anyone else would’ve been electrocuted or blown up by one of my traps. Hehehehehehe-“

Ellie looked up in confusion, Y/n gave a small nod for her to continue.

“Take anything you need,” she kept going, “The bunker code is the gate code but in reverse. Anyway…I never liked you, but still, it’s like we’re friends, almost…And I respect you. So, I’m gonna tell you something because you’re probably the only person who will understand. I used to hate the world and I was happy when everyone died. But I was wrong, because there was one person worth saving. That’s what I did. I saved him. Then I protected him. That’s why men like you and me are here. We have a job to do, and God help any motherfuckers who stand in our way. I leave you all of my weapons and equipment. Use them to keep-“

Ellie sucked her bottom lip, not knowing how to proceed. None of them had to ask what the next two words were.

Joel stepped forward robotically and took the letter, reading the rest over silently. Tess’ name struck a blow to his body, he wanted to curl in on himself.

“Stay here,” he mumbled, striding towards the front door with barely contained hurry.

Y/n shut her eyes, keeping her hands in a praying position. It was the first time in twenty years she couldn’t tap into the anger that lived inside her. She felt pure sorrow that Joel had to lose someone else he loved, regardless of whether he’d ever admit to loving Tess.

Outside, Joel took deep breaths that at one time would have been described as cleansing. But he felt no better when he inhaled than he had before. Bill’s letter weren’t just his last wishes, it was a call to action. He couldn’t have known the situation Joel was in when he wrote it, but he supernaturally addressed every part of it. He lifted up a silent apology to Tess, for not being able to save her.

Joel crumpled the letter in his palms and let it drop to the grass. He held up the key Bill had left him, forcing himself to move to the garage doors and open them.

Y/n and Ellie sat up straighter upon hearing the noise. “Stay here,” Y/n echoed Joel, rising up and heading out to see what he was doing.

She walked around to the open garage doors to see Joel hunched over the front of a truck. The hood was open and he was investigating its internal organs. Y/n had barely caught a glance at the empty spot where the battery should have been before Joel slammed it shut. There went that happy thought…

Joel’s eye caught the refrigerator nearby, a couple cans of oil and other auto supplies sitting on top of it. Bill had been a survivalist, it was his nature to prepare for every possible outcome. He crossed the space and opened the fridge, spotting the materials needed to construct a car battery from scratch

He smirked, maybe they had been friends…

Y/n joined him at the door, she was no mechanic but the men throughout her life, Joel and Tommy included, had taught her enough about car repair to know they were battery parts. A spark of hope lit inside her.

It dwindled in both her and Joel when the reality of what it meant hit them.

Y/n suddenly felt too close to him, she moved away and crossed her arms, going to stand on the furthest side of the truck. Joel didn’t move until she stopped, coming to stand on the other side of the vehicle. They wanted a proper barricade between them.

Y/n had made a promise to Tess that she would protect both Ellie and Joel. In the moment, it had seemed like the only honorable thing to do. Now, staring down the task itself, she wanted to admit her selfishness and run. Run back to the QZ, back to the Fireflies, back to the only semblance of safety she had. And with every turn she made in her mind, Ellie was waiting for her. Ellie was at the center of this all. She was the job. Everything else came second.

“If we do this,” Y/n started, her words slowly and cautiously calculated, “You are going to have to start treating me like an equal. I am not some delicate flower that you need to protect and I’m not some child in need of protection. We’ve already got one of those. I live in the same world you do. I didn’t hesitate to kill that Clicker,” she pointed behind them as if the monster’s carcass was present, “And I won’t hesitate going forward.”

Joel looked up at her out his eyebrows, “Can you blame me, last time I knew you?”

“We don’t need to keep bringing us up,” Y/n shook her head, a joyless smile on her face, “We are completely different people. Matter of fact, think of us as strangers. We only know each other from this point forward.”

Joel thought it over a second, accepting the truth of it. “Okay,” he said, “But you have to trust me that I know the best way to get to Wyoming-“

“I don’t trust you,” Y/n retorted.

“I don’t trust you either,” he echoed, bitterness rising to both their surfaces.

Y/n bit down on her bottom lip, if this was going to work, they needed to put away all of their past. Not just the good parts.

“We have to put this on ice,” she said, “What matters…is her. That is all that matters. Not us, not what happened…her.”

Joel’s thumb twitched against the hood of the truck. There were many questions he’d been wanting to ask Y/n, but there was one that was non-negotiable if he was going to take on this task with her

“Do you actually believe that she’s the answer to this?”

Y/n’s face softened, only slightly, but enough for Joel to see the gleam hope in her eyes. “I do,” she replied, earnestly.

Joel breathed a heavy sigh, looking down at the truck. He glanced back up at Y/n, scanning her up and down as if to take full stock of the woman she was now. “Okay.”

Y/n nodded, her body alight with apprehension. “Okay.”

A ceasefire had been called.

“I’ll start on the battery,” Joel announced, eager to get away from the conversation as quick as he could, “Can you do a once over on this thing?”

“Yeah,” she answered, forcing past the hurdle that was doing something Joel asked of her.

They worked in silence, Y/n checking that the car was in working condition and Joel constructing their battery. It was the first time they’d been able to tolerate each other’s presence in the last two days.

After a half hour, when Y/n was long past done, Joel stepped back and examined his work. “It’s gotta charge for a while,” he announced, “But it’ll work.”

“Okay,” Y/n sighed, glancing over at him before heading back out the garage. Joel was close behind.

They came back into the house, finding Ellie waiting for them at the table still.

“Show me your arm,” Joel ordered, he needed to be 100% certain that she was safe to transport.

Ellie stood and rolled up her sleeve, the second bite still had blood caked around it, but it was clearly healing. They had no reason to doubt it would continue that way.

“I just finished makin’ a truck battery,” Joel said, “It’s charging right now.”

“Okay,” Ellie replied, her face showing a hint of hope.

“And I have a brother in Wyoming,” Joel continued, “He’s in some kinda trouble, and I’m heading out there to find him. He used to be a Firefly. And my guess is he knows where some of ‘em are out there. Maybe they can get you two to wherever this lab is.”

Ellie’s eyes bounced between Y/n and Joel, “All right. Uh,” she began to fiddle with her hand, “Listen, about Tess-“

Joel held up a hand, he took a second to collect himself before speaking. “If I’m takin’ you with me, there’s some rules you gotta follow. Rule one, you don’t bring up Tess. Ever. Matter of fact, we can just keep our histories to ourselves.”

Y/n made a mental note of where Joel was emotionally.

“Rule two, you don’t tell anyone about your…condition,” Joel focused his eyes on Ellie, trying to drive the point home, “They see that bite mark, they won’t think it through. They’ll just shoot you. Rule three,” he pointed between him and Y/n, “You do what we say, when we say it. We clear?”

“Yes,” Ellie answered.

“Repeat it,” Joel demanded.

Ellie took a breath, “What you say goes,” she looked between the two adults once more, “Are you two gonna be able to get along?”

Joel glanced over his shoulder at Y/n, who was leaned up against the door frame. She had her hands tucked behind her as if she was trying to make herself as small as possible. They communicated their truce with their eyes.

“We’ll be fine,” Y/n said to Ellie, maybe saying it would make it so…

Joel sighed, it felt like he was signing on a metaphorical dotted line. “Okay,” he finally said.

The three of them stood in the dining room, all with their own separate reservations but with no choice in the matter. They needed each other, even if no one dared to admit it.

“So what now?” Ellie broke the silence.

“We grab what we can,” Joel responded, “Let’s check the bunker first.”

He brushed past Y/n, who followed with Ellie in tow, and located the hidden entrance to Bill’s bunker. Joel climbed down the ladder first into the pitch black room. Flipping on the lights revealed walls of canned goods, guns, supplies, various tools and first aid kits. In the middle lay a desk setup with a laptop playing music and monitor screens showing footage of outside the house.

“Ho-ly shit,” Ellie said for both her and Y/n, “This guy was a genius.”

“Little bit,” Y/n added, scanning the walls, “Back then, everyone called people like him crazy. I’m guessing he was okay with it.”

Joel went to work at the computer, switching off the song.

“Why was the music on?” Ellie asked.

“If he didn’t reset the countdown every few weeks,” Joel explained, “This playlist would run over the radio.”

Ellie glanced over the screen, assured now of her theory from the day before about Joel’s radio codes. “‘80s.”

Joel didn’t really care anymore, “Grab some cans from over there. Nothin’ dented or swollen.”

Ellie wasn’t so easily distracted, she was still gazing at the guns. “Dude,” she started to draft another pitch.

“No,” he replied without even looking up at her.

“There’s a whole wall of them,” she declared, as if that made a difference.

Joel shot her a glare, signaling there was no discussion to be had. Searching Y/n out again and receiving a frown in response, Ellie backed off and went to collect the canned goods.

Y/n traced her fingers across the wall of guns. She doubted her pistol was going to get them very far. It had taken an assault rifle and an axe just to kill the Clicker that had attacked them.

She loathed to ask Joel for help, but she was good at shooting, not specs. “Which one takes the most basic ammo?”

Joel peered up from the monitor screens, the sight of her standing amongst so many weapons was still a little shocking. “That beige and black one,” he nodded in her direction, “Standard shotgun.”

Y/n nodded once in awkward thanks and removed the gun from the wall, testing the weight and feel of it. She crossed the room to one of Bill’s work tables and took a box of bullets, stuffing it in her jacket pocket.

“I’m gonna start upstairs,” she announced, strapping the shotgun over her back and climbing up the ladder.

The three of them worked around the house, collecting any and all supplies they could possibly need. Ellie found toilet paper, Y/n found some unopened dry goods, Joel found clothes for them. It was strange to think that once upon a time, desires had felt like essentials. A new TV, concert tickets, expensive wine…Y/n felt like she was seeing heaven when Joel pulled out a box of women’s t-shirts.

Joel monitored the battery closely, it wasn’t charging as fast as he wanted it to. “Needs another hour,” he told them.

“They have hot water!” Ellie exclaimed, soaking her hand under the garage’s running faucet, “I’m takin’ a shower. And then you’re showering, because seriously,” she turned to Joel and scowled as he headed back to the house.

Joel stopped what he was doing, unsure of how to respond. “I smell that bad?”

Y/n was sorting through some shelves, collecting a few tools they could take with them for the truck. “I’m not even answering that,” she replied.

Joel took what he could from her answer. “You take the next one,” he offered, trying to put his money where he mouth was and bench their grudge.

“Should I be offended?” Y/n fired back, raising one eyebrow. “Thank you,” she finally said.

Joel gave a nod in reply before getting back to work.

Y/n eventually headed inside to wait for Ellie to be done. The girl emerged with wet hair in fresh clothes.

“That felt so good,” she groaned in happiness as she passed Y/n in the hall.

“I bet,” Y/n smiled, “There extra towels in there?”

“Yep,” Ellie called, she was already halfway down the stairs, passing Joel as she descended.

If Y/n and Joel had dodged any awkwardness in the past 48 hours, it had boomeranged back around and slammed into them. They stood in the hall, keeping three feet of space between them and struggled for words.

“I’ll be quick,” Y/n said finally, heading into the bedroom that connected to the bathroom.

“Sure,” Joel replied, fiddling with his fist at his side.

Showers were one thing that no one ever took for granted anymore. Water supply in the QZ wasn’t consistent, one day you could have warm water and the next it’d be ice cold. You couldn’t count on anything to stay the same. So when Y/n had complete control of the temperature and made it burning hot, she felt like she could cry from pure joy.

Joel stood outside the bedroom door, leaned up against the wall. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Sweet images of early mornings with Y/n stormed past his defenses, flooding his brain. How she looked with wet hair, the smell of her skin after using some soap he couldn’t remember the name of…he tried to ignore the fact that it was all on the other side of the door.

Y/n emerged from the shower a few minutes later, having gotten all the dirt out of her hair and nails, and wrapped a threadbare towel around her torso. She quickly dried off and changed into the new clothes Joel had found them. It was a plain t-shirt, a men’s button up to go over it and a plain pair of jeans. Gone were the days of dressing up because you felt like it. It was a stupid thing to miss, but Y/n felt the loss regardless.

Dressed, she opened the bathroom door. The sound signaled that Joel could come in.

He came around the corner, having just put his memories to bed when he saw her. Pruny, barefaced and natural…the way he’d always loved her.

“All yours,” Y/n muttered, unable to break the eye contact they held.

Joel cleared his throat and his mind, “Thanks.”

“I’m just gonna be here,” Y/n gestured to the dresser and the attached mirror, “Try and get a comb through my hair.”

“Okay,” Joel nodded.

He walked past her, their shoulders brushing as he did, and closed the bathroom door behind him. It was the first time they’d touched in twenty years.

Now anger was rarely ever born from just anger. No one hated someone just to hate them. There was always something deeper beneath it. More often than not, anger found a companion in heartbreak. They’d collide, morphing together to make something so complicated, you couldn’t tell one apart from the other.

Y/n reached for a spare comb, her trembling hands causing her hair to catch in the teeth. Harboring the anger had been effortless, it was a fire that stoked itself. It was the pain, the flame that started the blaze, that was causing her to feel like she was burning, from the inside out.

The tears welled in her eyes, she refused to let them fall until her reflection was nothing but a blur. She dropped the comb on the dresser, and fell back onto the bed. It could no longer be contained.

Joel had broken her, destroyed her. The loss of him was a hurt that had refused to fade with time. She could feel her heart splitting back open just being around him, the same way it had the day that they’d parted. She wanted to scream, to cry, to break the way she had after he’d left. With the simple act of calling a truce and playing nice, she had reopened the wound she had spent twenty years trying to heal with her unbridled bitterness. She was bleeding out.

On the other side of the door, Joel was propped up against the shower with one hand. Rivulets of the stream dripped down his hair and face. He stared down at the drain, his emotions mixing and swirling much like the water at his feet. Joel had never considered himself particularly favored by the world. There were only two times when he’d felt like there was some higher power bestowing happiness upon his unworthy head.

The first was when Sarah was born, when he got to hold her for the first time.

The second was when Y/n entered his life.

Now her mere presence felt like a punishment. A reminder of what he’d done to her, a child’s taunt of a love he could never go back to. Knowing she was on the other side of the wall caused every muscle in his body to tense. Joel was still himself, regardless of what the pandemic had turned him into. The guilt he’d long tried to drown was rising to the surface, threatening to rebel and throw him underwater. Mixed with the fresh loss of Tess, he was overwhelmed. If he didn’t keep repeating the same three things to himself, she lied, she’s a liar, she’ll lie again, he would collapse entirely.

Y/n sniffled, rubbing her fingers under her eyes in a desperate attempt to stop her tears. She was so tired of crying over Joel. She wished for blind hatred, not the memory of his smile. Bitter regret, not the ghost of his lips. She couldn’t take another time of looking into his eyes and seeing the man she had loved with her whole heart.

Had they known that with a mere twelve feet of space and one shoddy door between them, it still wouldn’t have changed anything. Their chapter was over.

Needing distance, Y/n got off the bed and combed her hair as she walked down the stairs. She found Ellie seated in the front room at the piano.

Ellie turned to her and smiled, “Well, that’s an improvement.”

Y/n bristled, “Be nice to me. I am keeping you alive, after all.”

Ellie hummed as if that was up for debate and turned back to the piano, “You ever learn to play one of these?”

“A little,” Y/n replied, coming to join her, “I played as a kid, not as much when I was an adult.”

“You wanna play something?” Ellie suggested, it didn’t feel like it was for Y/n’s benefit so much as her own.

Y/n motioned for Ellie to make room and settled in next to the girl. It had been over twenty years since she’d felt ivory beneath her fingers, and this one was a beautiful model. She wracked her brain for songs where all the chords were still intact.

She placed her hands accordingly, pressing down on the first keys.

“Slow down, you crazy child,” she softly sang, “You’re so ambitious for a juvenile. But then if you’re so smart, tell me, why are you still so afraid?”

“You can fucking sing?” Ellie cried excitedly.

“Where's the fire, what's the hurry about,” Y/n kept going, “You'd better cool it off before you burn it out. You've got so much to do and only so many hours in a day.”

Ellie swayed a little, taking in the curiosity of the person she hardly knew, yet liked better than anyone. She couldn’t help herself from sneaking a finger onto a key and quickly pressing down.

“Don’t mess me up,” Y/n laughed as she continued to play, “But you know that when the truth is told, that you can get what you want, or you can just get old.”

Joel had just pushed his wet hair back and buttoned up his shirt he’d found. Renewed by the hot water, he grabbed the stick of deodorant he’d used and left the bathroom. The music and it’s sweet accompaniment drifted through the bedroom door, hitting Joel and rendering him breathless for a moment. All he could feel was her, wrapping her arms around him with each word.

Ellie continued to hit random keys at inopportune times, Y/n’s knocked her shoulder against hers.

“You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through,” Y/n crooned, her grin causing her to enunciate differently.

Joel quietly made his way down the stairs, feeling his body unnaturally relax with each note Y/n sang. Her voice hadn’t changed at all.

“When will you realize,” Y/n did a little flourish with the keys, leaving Ellie no room to mess with the melody, “Vienna waits for you.”

When she removed her hands, Ellie clapped and whooped. The mood had been so dark since the day of the shootout, it felt like a single ray of light was shining down on them.

Joel watched her sing the last line from the hall, it was like his memories had come to life right in front of him. How hard was it to bury the past when it was everywhere you looked?

Ellie turned around and saw Joel, “Well, don’t you look pretty.”

Y/n rotated on the bench and faced Joel. It was unfair that he seemed to be getting more handsome with age. With his hair slicked back and his plaid shirt rolled up to his elbows, it stirred up a singular butterfly in her stomach. She was quick to put it down.

Joel’s eyes flashed to Y/n before catching himself and looking back to Ellie, “Shut up.”

He tossed her the deodorant. “Nice,” she commented, swiping it on before handing it to Y/n. “Hey,” she trailed after Joel, “Did you know Y/n can sing?”

Y/n snorted as she used the antiperspirant. Ellie was the only thing keeping her spirits up on the trip. Everything else hurt, but the young girl’s joy acted as a balm.

Joel went back out to the garage to confirm the battery was charged up. He installed it quickly and headed back into the house. “We’re good to go,” he announced, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

Ellie and Y/n grabbed their jackets and bags, the three of them filed out of the house in hopeful silence. They shoved their things in the back seat of the truck, leaving one side clutter-free.

“Why don’t you take the front?” Y/n suggested to Ellie, already climbing in the back.

Ellie jumped into the passenger side, a toothy grin spread across her face as she started fiddling with the foldout mirror.

“It’s your first time in a car?” Joel asked from beside her, not the slightest bit amused.

“It’s like a spaceship,” Ellie said wondrously.

“No, it’s like a shit piece of Chevy S10,” Joel grumbled, “But it’ll get us there…I think. Seatbelt.”

Ellie glanced up from playing with the radio dials, confused.

Undeniably in sync with each other, Y/n reached through the gap between Ellie’s seat and the window as Joel reached over the girl and pulled the belt over her body. “Seatbelt,” Joel repeated.

Ellie took it from him and clicked it into place, “So cool…”

Y/n watched from over their shoulders. It wasn’t lost on her how it had taken no time for Joel to start acting like a parent again.

Joel started up the car as Ellie dug through the glove compartment. She held something up to Joel that Y/n couldn’t see.

“Put it back…” Joel directed, “Ellie…”

Ellie ignored him, popping in the cassette tape and hitting play. Soft guitar rang through the truck’s speaker system. Ellie was about to skip the song when Joel and Y/n piped up at the same time.

“No, no, wait-“

“No, leave it.”

Their words collided, surprising them both. It was the first thing they’d agreed on.

“This is good,” Joel said as he made a turn, “This is Linda Ronstadt. Do you know who Linda Ronstadt is?”

“You know I don’t know who Linda Ronstadt is,” Ellie rolled her eyes.

Y/n smirked from the back seat before the nostalgia washed over her again. The song had been a favorite of hers for decades, but there was one night in particular she distinctly remembered playing it on.

Joel drove down the path that led to the gate, letting the song fill the cracks of him left by all the beauty disappearing from the world. There was still a musician living inside him. “Oh, man…” he muttered.

In the rear view mirror, Y/n and Joel’s eyes flickered to one another. The second their gazes connected, they diverted them back to the road. In their minds, they were back in Y/n’s shitty apartment, leaving for their first date.

“Eh,” Ellie remarked, “It’s better than nothing.”

Y/n couldn’t contain the chuckle that bubbled from her lips, nor could Joel hide his flash of a smile. She was going to make them both feel ancient before their journey was over.

Joel pressed the gate code on the remote Bill had left in the garage, the gate opening for them like the parting of the Red Sea. Even he, in all his jadedness, felt some sort of hope.

Y/n settled against the window, taking one last look at the town Bill and Frank had kept up over the years. Their legacy was one not of sadness, but of renewal. They had supplied her, Joel and Ellie with the resources to go forward with their journey. They were helping them in their mission to change the world. It was a kindness she’d never get to thank them for, but she’d certainly never forget.

They drove into the sunset, golden hour embracing them and welcoming them onto the open road. Maybe, just maybe, this was the turning point for them…

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A/N: Just an FYI, we hit the 50 mentions limit so the taglist will be split between the post and the comments :)

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[dejwrites]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀─── ⠀ ⠀⠀ wet dreams⠀ 〳 ⠀ t.yuushi ‵

❪ ♡ ❫ ─── ( synopsis ) could you imagine having a wet dream about your hot neighbor?

♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — reader discretion is advised: female reader, female anatomy described, her/she pronouns, written with black reader in mind, pet names (good girl), oral fixation, oral (f.receiving), dirty talk, biting kink, backshots/doggystyle position, spanking, anal play (i mean he put a thumb in it that's it), marking kink, profanity, i think we should write smut about men in explicit mangas some more, mentions of a wet dream, wet dream is in italics, slight pervert!reader, this been in my drafts since august lol, i colored the header lol, @eiflawriting gave me the idea so i ran with it, minors dni pls !

YOU COULDN’T HELP BUT STARE AT HIM WHEN YOU SAW HIM. You remembered how your eyes lit up with curiosity seeing him move into the apartment next to yours. An apartment with many tenants who moved in and soon quickly moved out. A rumor traveled around that a ghost resided in that apartment, but you never cared to gossip about said rumor. You just went to work and came home. It was a sad cycle that you’ve done Monday through Friday. Occasionally when you would be leaving for work, you'd see him. The bags under his eyes are as heavy as he’s taking his trash out to put into the apartment’s trash bin. His whole demeanor oozed sex appeal even though he would be the type of man your parents would usher you to stay away from. 

He was a handsome man, and when you laid down to sleep, you only seethed in jealousy, hearing faint moans through the thin walls. A regular neighbor would march over and bang on the door to tell their neighbor to keep it down—but with you, it felt like your body was stuck. You stared at the ceiling indulging in the sound of the way he pleasured this woman. That jealous pit twists in your stomach, realizing that you have most likely been crushing on a taken man this whole time. But it didn’t make sense, you hadn’t seen a woman enter or exit his place when you were around. Either or, you still thought that it should have been you to have the privilege of cooing out his name the way this woman was. 

You could do better. You know you can. 

You may have been in a significant drought, but you were positive your plush lips could kiss him better. Your mouth could wrap around his cock better. You could move your hips while riding him better. But then again, this woman had to have something you didn’t if he was making her feel like this every night. 

You took your pillow over your head to scream into it. The heated feeling between your thighs caused you to roll over on your side to force yourself to sleep. You were only torturing yourself by continuing to be a pervert and listening to him pleasure another woman. Before you could utter a string of complaints to yourself, your body finally relaxed for you to fall into a deep slumber—a poor attempt at ignoring the walls through the paper-thin walls. 

Your body stirred in your sleep as you felt something under the thin lilac-colored duvet that covered your body. You felt something wet upon your thighs as if somebody was nibbling on the flesh on the inside area of your thighs. You attempted to squirm tiredly, but the grip upon you grew tighter. With your hand rubbing the sleep out of your eye, you lifted the duvet, and your eyes nearly bulged out your head seeing him. His eyes filled with so much hunger it sent a chill down your spine. With the oversized t-shirt you usually sleep in pushed up to your waist, you watched as the flat of his tongue glided upward and downward on the clothed part of where your pussy lips were. Even though your underwear was blocking the pleasure feeling of his tongue—you still felt yourself grow wet at the feeling. 

Your next-door neighbor Totsumoto Yuushi didn’t waste any time dragging your fusion-colored panties down your smooth legs to get a taste of you. The flat of his tongue dragged across your puffy pussy lips just to finally relinquish in the taste of you. His darkened eyes met with yours through the little light that shimmered through the window from the moon. You relaxed in his touch as soon as you felt the first flicker on your clit. Your breathing hitches in your throat before you cough up moans and your fingers tangle into his black hair. Before your eyes lolly in the back of your head, the last glimpse you got was of Totsumoto’s eyes shifting close as he finally wanted to focus on his main task. 

Totsumoto’s tongue glides around the entrance of your drooling cunt, and he even could feel you clench, feeling him teasing you. Your thighs were seizing close due to the intense feeling of him between your thighs, but he just pinned them back open. You even heard him moan as he continued to eat his meal. He didn’t leave a drop of slick for him not to savor. The blood rushing to his cock with each kitten lick he’s making on your pussy or each flicker and suck on your sensitive bud. Your juices stained his face, but he could care less when it was a mouthwatering meal right before him. 

Your body arched off the mattress as you failed to run away from your pending orgasm. Your stomach began to form the most satisfying knots for Totsumoto to untie, but he pulled it away. He shortly let his lips drag kisses and bites on the inside of your thighs. He removed himself away from your pussy with a satisfying pop. 

“I want you to cum on this dick, Y/N.” His voice rasps. “I know you want the same thing, right?” Totsumoto tilts his head to the side slightly as if he’s letting his head rest on your bite marks-covered thigh, and his eyes never stop looking at you. 

Totsumoto’s words hit you like a truck with each continued kiss and bite. Your brain felt like complete mush as you realized he snatched your orgasm away from you in the blink of an eye. With his cock on hard, he kisses up your body until his face is just inches away from yours. Him being on top of you but also sure not to squash you. You could feel his cock on the inside of your thigh. Just by how it felt—you could tell it was fat. You’ve had your perverted thoughts during a hot morning imagining how his cock looked. Was it long? Was it girthy? Was he circumcised? How pretty was the tip? You’ve asked yourself that constantly. 

He’ll inch closer to your lips. Through your stare of desperation for him, you watched him lick his lips—savoring in the aftertaste of your pussy before he spoke once more, “How’d you want it? Since you’ve been a good girl while I was between your thighs….” 

Teasingly, he’s letting his teeth nibble on your plump lower lip instead of giving you the satisfaction of a heated kiss. 

“I’ll let you choose.” He adds. 

And that’s how you whine up on all fours with a perfect arch and your cunt eager to swallow Totsumoto’s cock. You figured that if you were to do missionary, you’d become cock drunk for the gentleman immediately. His callous hands grabbed at your waist, dragging you closer to him; you could feel the tip of his cock brushing against your entrance. “Just relax, pretty, sure you fit around me perfectly,” Totsumoto assured.

He’s collecting saliva in his hand to coat his girthy cock with, even though he could see how wet you were for him through his dark locs that fell in his face. His hand gripped your waist, similar to how a person would with some bike handles. He completely braced himself for the waterfall he was about to experience. First, he’s shoving his tip in—slowly, just so you can get used to it, savor it. A wonderful feeling he could get used to. Second, he’s gradually shoving move of his cock inside you. This time he’s taking note of how your manicured fingers grasped at the sheets. 

“I thought you could take my cock, hm?” He’ll teasingly ask. 

You couldn’t even answer his question before he’s immediately plowing forward. No regard for getting used to his size when the wet cunt in between your thighs was enthusiastic for more. You’ll moan out his name like a song you knew from heart. The lewd sound of heated skin slapping against each other adding on to your tune of moans. It created a sweet melody that Totsumoto enjoyed hearing. It motivated him to fuck just a little better, a little harder. 

Your pillow was beginning to stain with your salty tears with each ram of his hips. You only had the opportunity to let out broken moans that bounced upon the thin walls of your bedroom. Your hand went back behind you to slow down his abrupt thrusting, but that only led to him swatting your hand away as if it were a fruit fly flying around a garbage can. At this point, you had lost count of how many times the two of you had cum. The sticky mess that imprinted your thighs didn’t stop Totsumoto from continuing what he was doing. The white ring that decorated his cock only turned him on even more. His eyes lazily droop to gaze at your pussy, swallowing his cock. It was an intoxicating feeling how you were clutching around him. Which each pull back on his cock—he could feel you tremble. Hurriedly, wanting to run away from his jabs but ever so eager for him to fill you up some more. 

“You were waiting to feel my cock weren’t you?” He growled lowly. He noticed you didn’t answer his question, only purring out desperate moans. The dark-haired male took that as a challenge. His large hands that once were on your plush love handles would press down your back, ensuring that you wouldn’t break the perfect arch. 

Totsumoto’s fingertips trace alongside the flesh of your ass. His hand slaps at it, and his actions' ripple effect causes his cock to twitch inside you. His body felt like he was running a fever so hot that he could most likely faint. His jet-black strands of hair were sticking to his sweat-coated forward, but even if his hair drooped low in front of his intoxicating deadpan eyes—he still couldn’t take them away from the mess between the two of your bodies. His strokes were beginning to grow sloppy as his body finally overheated due to his lewd actions. 

You knew that the older gentleman was so close to cumming. His grip on your waist tightens, completely entrapping you from running away from his brash thrusting. It took you by shock feeling his thumb insert instantly into your asshole. Your body tensed up, and he leaned down to place the sloppiest set of kisses on your back. “It’s just a thumb unless you want it to be something else.” He hungrily said. 

His words sent a frightening yet exhilarating chill down your spine. Your fingers grasped the crumpled sheets on your mattress as you met his thrusting halfway until the both of you were a cumming mess. You’ve had your fair share of sleeping with men. From horrible hookups to the best lovemaking, no one ever made you feel like this when you were orgasming. You felt like you were on the highest cloud attempting to climb down all by yourself. Your limbs quivered with each sloppy cum coated slam upon your ass, and your moans became so frantic that someone would have thought you were speaking in tongue. The messy mess that imprinted the two of your skin wasn’t as bad as the mess when his cock hesitantly removed itself from you. Totsumoto’s thick cum dripped out of your cunt as he let your body collapse on the mattress below you like a personal used fleshlight. You could hear his breathing returning to normal as he let his fingertips drag alongside your sweat-coated body parts. 

“Sleep tight. You’re going to need it for when I return.” His words came out like a whisper.

When his fingertips left your body, you felt cold without his touch. You were utterly addicted to his touch, and you needed more. However, your shaken limbs and depleted body said otherwise.

Exhaustion overcame your body as the only thing that could be heard in the room was the sound of you trying to control your breathing. Your eyes became droopy, and you realized that he just gave you the best dick you could imagine, that you instantly fell into a deep slumber.

The annoying sound of your alarm caused your eyes to open instantly. Your phone was practically yelling at you to get up to start your day. When you pressed the snooze button on your phone, you glanced at the time. You still have a couple more minutes—perhaps you can attempt to fall asleep to continue the dream. Your panties already were damp, and your nipples hardened in anticipation due to it, but no matter how comfortable you got or how tightly squeezed shut your eyes were—you couldn’t fall back into that deep slumber. There you were, staring at the ceiling, thinking about him, and once again, the horrible feeling of him not being able to pleasure you outside of your perverted wet dreams swirled around in your mind. 

A knock could be heard from your front door, causing your thoughts to disappear— just like the dream you had last night. You climbed out of bed to answer the door, mumbling coherent words about who could be visiting you so early. It was most likely another salesman that wanted to sell something. You opened your front door, and all the annoyance in your body disappeared. There, your neighbor Totsumoto Yuushi stood at your door holding a box. 

Your words were stuck in your throat as your fingers toyed with the ends of the oversized t-shirt you wore to bed. Totsumoto’s eyes traveled down your body, staring at your boobs, and he took a mental note of how your nipples poked through the thin fabric of the t-shirt you were wearing. He cleared his throat to clear out the tension in the air. 

“The delivery guy put this outside my door, and it belongs to you.” Totsumoto’s deep voice croaked out. 

“Thank you.” Your arms extended for him to drop the package in your arms.

Instead, he wiggled past the small gap between you and your cracked door and directly placed your package in your house. He walked out of your apartment and glanced down at you. The scent of him went by you, and you could feel your knees weaken. 

“I’m going to get going now. If you need anything, just knock on my door.” His lips form a sly smile before he walks down to his apartment. 

You closed the door when he was no longer in your eyesight. Your back pressed upon the door as you slowly slid down it—if only he could get you the one thing you wanted the most. 

And that was for your wet dream to come true vividly. 

TAGS — @eiflawriting @maydayaisha @rczc @woahhajime @sailewhoremoon @hellavile @si00p @exquisitenesss @plopifuee @prettyboyyuji @midoryiar @animepickle7 @1reversecowgirl @sunnytalia3 @sukunasfootrest @touyyes @atesumu @ladybugisland @chaiyuuuu @sleepy3

[writinginthetwilight]

Knock, knock.

Series Warnings: 18+ for smut in later parts if you are under 18 you do not belong here, be gone. AFAB!reader. Angst. Fluff. Strong language. Bittersweet ending. Eddie and reader are in their late 20's. Soul mates au sort of? Parallel universes. Horror-esk/creepy vibes.. Hopefully. Flowery prose. Relationship breakdowns. Shitty relationships. I'll add as I go on.

Authors note. This whole fic idea has me in a choke hold and came from prompt 6 of the stranger prompts by @bettyfrommars @allthingsjoeq and @somnambulic-thing. I hope I do the idea in my head justice and you all enjoy. Love you bye.

6. You move into a new apartment and soon discover that you share a wall with a very noisy neighbor. Loud laughter, talking, and music are a constant companion. When you decide to go over and knock on their door to confront them in person, you find that the apartment is unoccupied and has been for months.

please reblog, comment and tell me what you think.

Masterlist

Part 1 - Boundary lines carved from paint, plaster and sleep.

You can tell the moment you see it that the apartment wasn't meant to be there.

The front door sticks like it's a size too big for its frame, dark wood groaning as you lean your weight against it like it knows. Knows it's too far to the left and opens the wrong way. You stumble through when it finally relents, the doorknob slamming harshly into the drywall, fitting into a groove which has been left from years of protest.

The smell hits you first, stale but that was to be expected of somewhere advertised as ‘long term vacant’. Letting out your own low groan you stretch your arms above you, pausing as you take in your surroundings.

This wasn't advertised.

Your eyes trail to the far right of the door where a scar runs up the wall, it stretches the entire length of the ceiling and down alongside the adjacent window, effectively splitting the room by a third.

Its ridges and fissures catch the soft mid-morning light as you go to stand beneath it, flaking plaster and paint suggesting there was an attempt to cover it at some point. With some more care it could have been smoothed over, but that love and attention has obviously been thought best used somewhere else.

Relatable.

The flattering angles of the pictures online hadn't shown it, nor did they show the awkward corners and odd proportions that make up the right side of the apartment, the wall pinching in and curving out, in obvious accommodation for whatever lies on the other side.

Within that third boundary, the small kitchenette sits, hacked and patched to fit the uneven space.

Your fingers run over the filled in holes that need sanding and trace the edge of a socket that's been given up on.

You add the jobs to your mental checklist and choose to ignore the way the thick dust that blankets the worktop smudges against your clothes as you lean over it, peering through a window half obscured by an overhead cabinet.

The streets below are warped by sepia coloured smudges on the panes and it distorts your reflection, twisting it like there's movement from behind you.

It makes you turn, your attention brought to the other side of the room where there are no scars, walls smooth besides the mark from the door, and you deduce that the bulk of the apartment must have come from that side.

The dated green carpet has long lost its pile, leaving no give beneath your feet as you pad over to the only other doorway.

Dust swirls in slivers of light as you open it, dancing in the perfectly square room, it's small but not claustrophobic and you can picture what it will look like decorated and filled with your belongings. You're about to write it off as un-noteworthy but then there's the ensuite.

The door’s too close to the wall again and instead of straight ahead, the room stretches to the right.

The full length of the bedroom.

It's so long you could lay down arms stretched overhead without touching either end, but so narrow that your thighs will brush the side of the tub when you sit on the toilet.

It's dark, no windows or frills, just the necessary amenities to mean it's functional. It seems to look back at you as you stand at its threshold and you frown closing the door immediately on the weird space.

Making your way back out, chewing the inside of your cheek you take everything in again.

It's not what you expected but, besides the bathroom feeling like a tomb, it's not too small or too unclean, no damp or mould just dust and discoloured walls that come with anywhere unoccupied after a certain amount of time.

The more you stand and look around the more you find a charm in the way it's misshapen, like it refuses to belong, and now it's yours.

Just yours.

You can hear footsteps and murmurs from above and around you, as parallel lives go on oblivious to your own.

A giddy flutter runs through you and so you begin.

Maybe it could have been more, but in the moment nothing seemed like it was worth the argument.

It takes the rest of the morning for you to haul everything up to the third floor from the back of your rental car. You try not to concentrate too hard on the fact that all your worldly possessions, once everything was said and done, didn't amount to a lot.

After all it was you who was leaving.

It took 12 trips up in the rickety elevator with curious faces sending you tight lipped smiles as you squeezed yourself in next to them. Most then averted their gaze as you bitched at your door, unmarked boxes rattling in burning sweat-slick hands as you finally fell through.

The self pitying thoughts of the fact you were doing this alone are kept at bay for the most part, mind kept busy by cleaning away the neglect of time and filling in paperwork.

But as the daylight fades, making way for unfamiliar shadows to crawl around you it gets harder.

Sat in the window, cast in orange light from the solitary lamp you own, eating Chinese takeout from a place down the block that you'd spotted on your way in, you try not to notice how the noises from the neighbours seem to echo louder than they should in the empty room.

You'd unpack tomorrow, the bigger items set to arrive which would stop the noise ricocheting so clearly. The new job would also give you enough money to make it feel like home, in time. The rent was a steal relatively speaking and it's close enough to your office that there's no real commute, this was good.

You wake with a start, a noise from the waking world pulling you from a dream that you already can't remember. The dark that surrounds you distorts and pixelates as your eyes adjust and there's a moment where adrenaline rushes you again when you can't quite work out where you are.

This was the right choice.

Then you remember.

The bare mattress is scratchy beneath your skin and the space around you feels vast even though you've downsized from the one you used to share, a lump in your throat forms at how cold the sheets feel while you reach out blindly looking for your phone but you swallow it with a frown.

Like he ever comforted you when you woke from a nightmare anyways.

Wincing at the brightness you see it's 3:00am, a multitude of WhatsApp messages lined up from various people you don't want to speak to, just checking in, sending well wishes. Cursing you out.

The default wallpaper, sits in place of where your smiling faces used to be, indescript waves of colour that shift on a set loop.

A clatter comes from the other side of the wall behind you followed by a loud curse and it breaks your vacant stare at the screen.

The room feels even darker than before as you throw your phone back onto the bed. With body and mind exhausted, oblivion takes you again quickly, unconscious mind closed off to the sound of something falling again which now echoes outside your bedroom door.

Next.