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Defining Boundaries: Fence Services by Iron Men Gates & Doors Design
Looking for top-notch fence services that will not only define your boundaries but also elevate the aesthetics of your property? Look no further! Iron Men Gates & Doors Design has got you covered.
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5520 Wilshire Blvd UNIT 208, Los Angeles, CA 90036, United States
(844)9977555
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Reasons to Buy High-Security Fences in Des Moines
If you live in the greater Des Moines area, it’s important that you have the best fence possible. High-security fences are necessary, and they come in handy when you need security from other people or animals. Keep yourself and your family safe by buying high-security fencing from a reputable Des Moines Fence Company like Fence Connections Inc.
Fence Connections offers high-security fencing for sale combined with an expert installation made possible by our professionals at no extra charge.
1. A high-security fence from Fence Connections is cheaper than a standard fence.
There are two reasons for this. First, the manufacturers charge those who sell their high-security fences less in order to make up for their lower profit margins when the fences are made to lower standards that don’t give you the security you need for your home or business.
2. High-Security fences are safer than other types of fencing.
High-security fencing protects you and your family from intruders. Other types of fencing may be easier to break or climb. Though this is fine for most homes, you shouldn’t leave yourself open to danger.
3. High-security fences are more potent than other types of fencing.
Most types of fencing are relatively easy to break or climb. Your high-security fence will contain intruders, and it requires tools that most thieves do not carry on.
4. High-security fences keep more people out than other types of fencing.
Because high-security fences are designed to be stronger and harder to break, they are effective at keeping unwanted people out of your property, such as would-be home invaders.
5. High-security fences have a longer lifespan than other types of fencing.
High-security fencing is built to be stronger, and it’s made to withstand the test of time. Most other types of fencing are not quite as durable, which makes high-security fencing a better choice for most people who want to protect their belongings and their families from intruders.
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Split Rail Fence: An Old-Fashioned Solution To Your Home’s Outdoor Problem
A split rail fence is an old-fashioned solution to a home’s outdoor problem. It is built out of one single split rail that has been nailed to posts, creating a fence from the ground up. The look of this fence is rustic and barebones, but the simplicity of this type of fence allows for more flexibility in placement and design.
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🌲 Elevate Your Outdoor Space with a Stunning Wooden Fence! 🌳
Transform your property into a cozy haven with our exquisite wooden fence solutions. Here's why our wooden fences are the perfect choice for your home:
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Looking for Local Fence Companies Near Me? Then Bellevue Fencing is the right one for you. Our friendly team of professionals is dedicated to finishing each job with the utmost elegance and refinement, ensuring that your fence is a point of pride on your property.
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title: in a feud with her neighbor
bonus scenes now available
pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader
rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)
word count: 5621
summary:
Five times you think Joel Miller is the worst neighbor ever, and the one time he isn’t.
author’s note: this is so self-indulgent. i hope you guys enjoy it! if you like this work, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment because they make my day 💕
special thanks to the angels who helped with ideas: @dreamingofdaddydin @jksprincess10 @mydailyhyperfixations @funnygirlthatgab
additional warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), explicit language, no use of y/n, story contains visual graphics, everyone pretend the 12 ft skeleton was available in 2003 and you could stream TV shows, no sarah, no outbreak, neighbor feuds, enemies to lovers, oral (explicit f receiving, non-explicit m receiving), semi-public sex, making out in a pool, reader is a menace and arguably the bad neighbor here, unprotected p in v, use of sex toys, praise kink, pet names, dirty talk. let me know if any are missing!
Joel Miller is the worst neighbor ever.
Your issues with him started on your first Halloween in the neighborhood. You had moved into your new home a few months prior, thrilled that you finally managed to escape the horrors of apartment living. You were now the proud owner of a little single story two bedroom craftsman style home, complete with fenced in backyard and a pool.
You loved your little house and the neighborhood was ideal, quiet but tight knit. The neighbor to your left, an elderly woman named Betty, had invited you over for tea and cookies and given you the lowdown on the neighborhood gossip.
The neighbor to your right, Joel Miller, she said, was a wonderful man. Polite, kind, and not too hard on the eyes either. You hadn’t met him yet, but with a glowing review like that, you couldn’t wait until you did.
She had also mentioned that the neighborhood goes all out for Halloween. They even hosted a contest for the best decorated house. Your mind already raced with the possibilities.
You loved Halloween. In Texas, the stifling heat finally eased around that time, dropping to a slightly more tolerable range in the 80s with cooler nights. You loved seeing all the displays in the stores and how abandoned storefronts would be overtaken by whole companies dedicated to Halloween. You watched all the horror movies you could and on the weekends you’d seek out local fall festivals because you’re a sucker for candy apples and funnel cake.
No one ever decorated at the apartment complex you previously lived in, so you were extra excited to decorate your house and yard. You bought fake tombstones and plastic skeletons for the yard, spider webs and little ghosts to hang in the trees. You carved two pumpkins to set on either side of the steps leading up to your front door and made little ghost statues out of tomato cages, foam balls, and white fabric. You even strung purple lights through your hedges.
You were totally going to win the decorating contest. You were confident that you would.
Until you woke up Halloween morning and Joel Miller had somehow decorated his entire home in the time that you had been sleeping, blissfully unaware.
The man had somehow managed to set up an entire army of skeletons, including a handmade wooden jail stuffed with ones trying to escape. There were some posed on the house itself, climbing up the sides and the roof. He had some coming out of the ground, red spotlights fixed on them for an eerie glow. But perhaps most impressive of all was the twelve foot skeleton with glowing red eyes that was posed near the makeshift jail, holding the door open like it was releasing the trapped undead soldiers.
Joel Miller had the motherfucking twelve foot skeleton. You wanted one of those so bad but it was always sold out. You checked every nearby Home Depot for months trying to find one and here Joel Miller has one, taunting you.
He won the decorating contest, sweeping the victory from right under your feet.
It may seem silly, but that was the moment you decided Joel Miller was the worst neighbor ever.
When you were buying your first home, you had been meticulous in calculating your finances in order to comfortably afford the purchase. You did not, however, account for having to repair your air conditioning system within less than a year of moving in. This made a significant dent in your savings, which led you to cut your expenses elsewhere.
One such expense was your internet. Why? Because it turns out Joel Miller, asshole neighbor, doesn’t password protect his router and you can just use his.
It’s not like he would notice.
_________________
Joel stares at his internet bill in confusion. This is the third month in a row that he’s been charged for going over his data allowance. That doesn’t even make sense. He’s the only person in his house and he only uses the internet on his phone to check the news and sometimes play Candy Crush. It’s why he got the lowest data plan in the first place.
He tries to think of what he could be doing differently, but comes up short. Hell, he’s not even home most of the day. He works long hours at different contracting jobs, so his free time is spent watching TV (cable, not connected to the internet), and sleeping.
But then it hits him. The overage charges never happened until you moved in.
Joel powers up his ancient laptop and has to Google search what a router is. Turns out, he doesn’t have a password set on his. Which means, if his hunch is correct, you’ve just had free access to his internet this whole time.
He learns how to set a password and, more importantly, he learns how to change the name of his router.
He needs to send a message, after all.
_________________
You’re about to start another episode of Grey’s Anatomy, courtesy of your friend generously sharing her Netflix password, when you receive an error message.
No internet connectivity. Try again?
The little WiFi connection icon is missing from your toolbar. You investigate further, opening the list of options and scanning them for Joel’s, conveniently titled Miller.
But instead you find a new name.
GetYourOwnWiFi. And it’s password protected.
“Son of a bitch,” you hiss.
Joel Miller’s tree is always dropping debris in your yard. The limbs have grown over your shared fence line and on windy days you have to deal with extra pool clean up on top of the usual mess it makes of your yard, twigs and leaves ruining your perfectly manicured backyard oasis.
You’ve asked him to trim the branches. Left him notes on his door and in his mailbox, but he still hasn’t done it.
Today you’re sending a new kind of message.
He’s going to wish he’d listened when you asked nicely.
_________________
“What the fuck,” Joel growls when he gets home just after sunset. There’s piles of leaves and twigs littering his front porch, almost to the point that he can’t see the concrete slab beneath.
There’s no way this just happened through the force of nature. It’s been a perfectly clear day in Austin and besides, there’s no trees at the front of his house for this kind of mess to fall from.
Which can only mean…
His eyes spot the bright pink Post-It note stuck to his door and he curses under his breath as he stomps up the porch steps and rips it down.
Here. Clean your own mess up for once.
xoxo
Joel crumbles the note in his fist, taking deep breaths as he heads for the garage to grab a broom and a trash bag.
He’ll get you back.
He always does.
You love animals, especially cats. Unfortunately, being allergic, you don’t have the option to have one of your own all the time.
When you spot the first neighborhood stray, your heart lights up with excitement. It’s a little black and white cat with bright green eyes that walks right up to you while you’re getting your mail, winding its lithe body between your legs and purring against you. You stoop to pet it, mentally reminding yourself to wash your hands before you touch your face, otherwise your eyes would be itchy for hours.
“Hello, little baby,” you murmur, rubbing a hand down the length of its back. “How are you?” The cat gives a strong meow in response. “Oh, are you hungry? Let’s go see if I have anything I can give you as a treat.”
Back inside your house, you locate a can of tuna and dump it into a small plastic bowl. The cat sits patiently on the porch, tail flicking in anticipation. It hops down and shoves its little face into the bowl as soon as it’s within reach.
“So cute,” you say, giving it one last pat on its back before returning inside.
_________________
There’s a cat sitting on Joel’s porch, watching him as he parks his truck. It’s the second time this week there’s been a cat lurking around his property. The first one he found out in the backyard, tearing up his flower beds.
The neighborhood had never had an issue with cats before, so he has a sneaking suspicion that you’re, once again, the root cause of his suffering.
His suspicions are confirmed when he sees you on the porch one day, laying out a row of plastic bowls filled with what he assumes is cat food. At first he’s annoyed that he’s right, it is you feeding the cats, which is why they’ve been terrorizing his yard, but then you turn around and he’s struck by how utterly gorgeous you are.
This is the first time Joel’s ever actually seen you. He’s usually out of the house before dawn and back after sunset, which must not coincide with your schedule since you’ve never run into each other. He remembers Betty, the older woman who lives to your left, telling him about meeting you.
“Gorgeous girl, that one. You two would probably hit it off,” she said as he hung a picture frame for her.
“Don’t go playin’ matchmaker, Betty,” he replied.
But damn, seeing you now in a pair of little shorts that hug your hips and ass just right and a tight white t-shirt that shows off the tiniest bit of skin above the waist of your shorts is making him think he should have taken Betty up on her word.
Joel’s so distracted that he almost misses the way the cat on his porch hits one of his planters with his paw, knocking the ceramic over and spilling dirt all over the ground.
“Fuck!”
_________________
There’s a note on your door the next morning, a torn piece of paper with a familiar scrawl of messy handwriting that could only belong to one person.
Stop feeding the cats or you owe me new plants.
-Joel
The note actually makes you giggle. Betty sees you on your porch and beckons you over to hers.
“What’s got you gigglin’ like a schoolgirl?” The older woman asks.
“What? Nothing,” you reply too quickly.
“Wouldn’t happen to be a note from a certain tall, strong, and handsome young neighbor of yours?”
“No, definitely not.”
She smirks at you. “You better quit terrorizin’ that poor man, honey.”
“Now, Betty, where would the fun be in that?” You say brightly as you head back to your house, the sound of her laughter following you through the door.
There’s a package on Joel’s porch when he gets home from work. He doesn’t remember ordering anything, but he wouldn’t put it past himself.
He brings it inside without thinking twice or checking the label, chucking it on the counter with the rest of his mail as he searches for a box cutter in his junk drawer.
Joel cuts through the packing tape, lifting the flaps and rifling through the packing paper to pull out the contents.
It’s another box, light pink with the image of a hot pink u-shaped device on the top. The text across the top reads REMOTE VIBRATOR in black script.
He nearly drops the box in surprise, fumbling it in his hands. He’s certain he didn’t order this.
Joel pulls the shipping box back towards him, keeping an eye on the vibrator like it might grow legs and run away. He flips the lid over to inspect the shipping label, his eyebrows rising as he reads your name and home address instead of his.
He looks at the toy again, mind whirling with images of you on your back, remote in hand as you bring yourself pleasure. He coughs, clearing his head and adjusts himself in his jeans.
He searches the junk drawer for a sheet of paper and a pen.
_________________
You’re staring at the delivery confirmation email from Lovelies, panic creeping down your spine. It says that your new toy has been delivered but there’s no package in your mailbox or on your porch. You’ve checked everywhere.
Which means it was either delivered to one of your neighbors or someone stole it.
If you’re being honest, you’d rather someone stole it than to have to go knock on Betty or, god forbid, Joel’s door to ask if they accidentally received your sex toy delivery. Your cheeks heat at even the thought of Joel knowing what you ordered. You head back inside empty handed.
Later, when you open your door to feed the cats, you’re surprised to find a box on your welcome mat. You set the bowls of food down and carry it inside, your excitement mounting.
But when you open the box, you’re mortified to find a torn piece of paper on top of the packing material, Joel Miller’s familiar handwriting on the sheet.
Interesting choice
-Joel
“Fucking asshole,” you mumble, crumbling the note and tossing it to the side. You pull your new toy from its box and turn it on. “Huh. Fully charged.”
Your jerk of a neighbor won’t ruin your night if this little gadget has anything to say about it.
It’s Joel’s one day to sleep in and you’ve been blasting your music all fucking morning. He’s already got his head shoved under his pillow but the sound still filters through, ruining his chances of any extra hours of sleep to make up for his lack of it during the week.
He rolls out of bed with a heavy sigh, scrubbing a hand across his beard. He heads downstairs to make coffee, the heavy beat of your music chasing him through the house. He can feel the beginnings of a headache pulsing behind his eyes.
Joel tries to tune it out. Really. He does. As much as the two of you butt heads, he doesn’t mean anything by it, not really. He doesn’t want to be an asshole, nor is he trying to be one.
But if you don’t turn your music down soon he’s going to lose his fucking mind.
He gives you another hour. He’s feeling generous. But when the music just keeps playing, he finally snaps.
Joel shoves his feet into the work boots beside the door, paying little mind to the fact that he’s not wearing socks. In fact, he’s still in his sleep pants and ratty old t-shirt but he’s too far gone to care.
Once he’s in front of your door, he bangs on the wood with his fists. He waits for a response and when he doesn’t get one, probably since you can’t fucking hear him, he bangs again. There’s movement from the corner of his eye and he turns his head to find Betty watching him, lips tilted in a smirk.
“You okay with this?” Joel asks, gesturing vaguely to your house to indicate the noise level inside.
“Don’t be such a party pooper,” she replies before shuffling inside. He turns back to the door to pummel it with his fists again but he’s surprised to find it open.
“Howdy, neighbor,” you say, eyebrow raised and arms crossed beneath your breasts.
Which were currently covered by the tiniest bikini top he’s ever seen. His eyes trail lower, over the expanse of your stomach to the matching bikini bottoms that peek out past the folded waist of your denim shorts.
“Uh,” he says, followed by a strained cough. “Hi.”
_________________
Joel Miller is standing on your porch dressed in a threadbare t-shirt and gray pajama bottoms that sit low on his hips, a strip of soft tan belly peeking out from above the waistband when he stretches an arm up to run his fingers through his dark, messy curls.
Christ, you think. The man is prettier than Betty gave him credit for.
“Can I help you?” You ask. His eyes snap from where they’d been lingering on your chest and you straighten your back just the slightest bit at the knowledge he’d been checking you out.
Joel clears his throat. “Your music is way too loud.”
You roll your eyes. “Does it hurt?”
“Does…what hurt?”
“Always having a stick up your ass.”
Betty barks a laugh from her porch and Joel’s head turns so fast you have whiplash just watching him. He throws his hands up.
“Who’s side are you on, Betty?!” He shouts.
You’re bent over, laughing so hard your stomach hurts and tears form at the corners of your eyes. When you finally catch your breath and return your attention to Joel, he’s got his hands on his hips and an impressive furrow between his brows.
“Listen, maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I’m about to go out by the pool and have a drink. Wanna join?” You ask.
“I don’t have my suit with me.”
“Well good thing you’re just right next door, huh? Go get it. I’ll leave the door unlocked,” you tell him before shutting the door in his face.
_________________
Joel returns to your house thirty minutes later, showered and wearing his swim trunks and a new t-shirt. He wipes his sweaty hands against his chest, not entirely sure why he’s nervous. He’s just having a drink with his annoying neighbor to hash out all the issues. No big deal.
Your music is still playing when he enters your house, giving the door a courtesy knock before letting himself in. The front door opens directly into the main living space, a large sectional couch facing a TV mounted between two windows to his right and a dining nook to his left. Your kitchen is nestled in the corner, just past an opening to a hallway that he assumes leads to the bedrooms. Your place is bursting with colors and textures and patterns, from the floral blanket draped over your velvet couch to the leaf patterned wallpaper and natural stone backsplash in your kitchen. You have tea towels hanging from your stove that say “ANOTHER ONE BITES THE CRUST” with a picture of a pizza, and an impressive looking bar cart that houses a variety of liquor bottles and glassware.
There’s a splash from outside and Joel sees that the sliding glass door to your patio is open. He steps onto the concrete deck, surveying the backyard oasis you’ve created for yourself. The pool is on the smaller side but still, it’s a pool, and Joel’s a little jealous of it. You’ve got chaise loungers lined near the edge and matching chairs that surround a little fire pit further out in the yard. There’s string lights hung from the shade canopy that extends from your house.
You pop up from beneath the surface, your hair slicked back from your face and little droplets of water clinging to your skin. Joel stands there, unsure of what to do, until you swim to the ledge closest to him and drape your arms over it, regarding him with keen eyes.
“Hi,” you say. He swallows, the nerves returning as he tries desperately to not let his gaze fall below your neck.
“Hey,” he replies.
“There’s beer in the cooler. Grab me one?” You ask before ducking back beneath the surface. He can see you swim towards the edge of the pool that the loungers face. He grabs two beers as instructed, popping the tops with the bottle opener fixed to the lid of the cooler. You break the surface once more, swimming over to where he sits on the end of one loungers.
Joel passes you the beer and you tip it towards him in thanks before taking a deep pull, your lips wrapped around the lip of the bottle and distracting him monumentally.
“So, you’re the Joel Miller, huh?” You ask. “Tell me about yourself.”
The two of you talk for what feels like ages. He learns that you’re a software engineer and you work a typical 9-5 schedule, which is why he’s never caught you around the neighborhood before. You don’t like to be outdoors much, preferring reading and catching up on your Netflix shows. You have two brothers, both of whom are older than you and live on the opposite side of the country, but you visit them around Christmas. You love animals, but have major allergies so you settle for fleeting moments with the neighborhood strays and occasionally watching your best friend’s dog when she goes out of town.
He tells you about his work as a contractor, which he’s been doing since he was fresh out of high school and had no idea what to do with his life. He talks about his brother Tommy, how they work together on most projects and they want to start their own contracting business, but that’s a dream for another day. He mentions he’s more of a dog person than a cat person, especially because he has a grudge against the orange neighborhood cat that is still tearing up his flowerbeds.
Joel loves the way you laugh, bright and full bodied as you toss your head back and bring a hand to your chest each time. You talk with your hands a lot, which is funny because you keep letting go of the pool ledge and scrambling to grab it again when gravity pulls you down in the water. If he doesn’t give enough detail in an answer, you’re not shy about asking him for more information, like when he said his favorite color was blue.
“Okay, but what shade of blue?” You asked.
“Just…blue?” Joel asked, clearly not understanding your question.
You rolled your eyes. “Men. I like lavender. Not just purple. Purple is a range of shades.”
“I guess…navy?”
“Now you’re getting somewhere, big guy!”
The conversation lulls as you share your drinks in companionable silence. The Texas sun bears down on his back, his t-shirt sticking uncomfortably to his sweat slick skin. He bites the bullet and reaches behind his head to tug the damp fabric off, leaving him in just his swim trunks. He doesn’t miss the appreciative once-over you give him.
You extend a hand to him. “Help me out?””
Joel grasps your hand in his, marveling for a moment how small it is in his broad palm. He’s distracted enough that he doesn’t notice the michievous look on your face, or the way you plant your feet to the pool wall for leverage.
You give a sharp tug with both hands and he goes toppling into the pool with a surprised shout.
_________________
You’re laughing so hard you can barely catch your breath. The look on Joel’s face as you tugged him into the pool will be burned into your memory for years to come. You’d been waiting all afternoon for the man to take his shirt off, not only because you were admittedly dying to see what was hiding beneath the fabric, but also because you wanted exact a little neighborly revenge for stomping over to your house to tell you your music was too loud.
You’re feeling mighty accomplished, right up until you feel a hand wrap around your ankle and you get pulled beneath the surface with no warning.
You open your eyes, chlorine stinging them as you see Joel torpedo towards the shallow end of the pool. You give chase, breaking the surface with a gasp.
“You asshole–”
Joel cuts you off by wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging you close and tipping his head down to capture your lips with his. He kisses like a man starved and he tastes like sunshine and chlorine and the beer he’d been drinking as his tongue slides hungrily against yours. He uses his arm to press your body to his, but it’s not close enough.
You wrap your arms around his neck and lift your legs to circle his waist, your center grinding against his rapidly hardening length. Joel trails his hands up and down your back, stopping to grab rough handfuls of your ass as he groans against your mouth.
“Fuck,” he curses. “This little fuckin’ bikini has been torturin’ me all day.”
“Why don’t you just take it off then?” You offer. He pulls back to watch your face as his fingers find the strings of your bottoms beneath the water, giving both sides a quick tug until you feel the material fall away. His hand creeps up your back, pulling at the strings holding your top together around your back and neck until they, too, fall away.
Joel walks the two of you forward until your back collides with the rough stone of the pool wall. He presses a muscular thigh between your legs, boxing you in with his body. Your hips jerk at the sudden pressure and friction against your bare pussy, a moan slipping from your lips as Joel presses kisses to your jaw and neck, nipping the delicate skin with his teeth.
“You gotta be quiet, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your skin, the deep timbre of his voice making a shiver dance down your spine despite the Texas heat. “Those sounds are just for me, isn’t that right?”
You nod your head quickly and he rewards you with another toe curling kiss. Your hips rock against his thigh and he swallows every little whimper as his hands explore your body.
“Joel,” you whine. His fingers pinch and pull your nipples before he soothes them with sweet circles of his calloused thumb.
“What’s the matter, baby?” He asks. One of his hands slides across your thigh and your breath hitches as he brings it dangerously close to your pussy before trailing it back down. “You need somethin’?”
“Need you to touch me.”
“That right? You want me to take care of that pretty little pussy?”
“Mhm,” you hum. “Please.”
“So polite. Where’s all that attitude from earlier, hm?” Joel asks, sarcasm dripping from every word. You narrow your eyes at him.
“I can be rude, Miller. You want that instead?”
“Trust me, I know, but I think I like you better when you’re beggin’ for me,” he replies with a grin.
Joel’s hands grab onto your waist and he hoists you up onto the ledge. His broad shoulders press against the back of your thighs and his arms drape across your hips. He smiles at you, mouth tauntingly close to where you’re desperate for relief. You lean back on your elbows, the concrete warm against your bare skin and the sun washing over you.
“How about you show me those nice manners one more time?” He asks.
You grit your teeth. “Joel, I swear to god I will go inside and lock you out–”
Your threats are cut off by your startled moan as he licks through your folds, broad swipes of his tongue from your fluttering entrance to your aching clit. His sweet brown eyes are sinful as he looks up at you from between your thighs, devouring your pussy like his last meal. His nose rubs against your clit each time his tongue dips inside of you and you’re quickly reduced to a writhing mess.
You shift your weight to one arm and reach down with the other to tangle your fingers into his hair. He moans appreciatively against your cunt, the vibrations making you keen. When your hips start to fight against his hold, his lips wrap around your clit, sucking and rolling it with his tongue.
“Fuck, fuck, just like that,” you babble, trying to keep your voice down as you balance right on the edge of your orgasm. He hums again, tongue swirling over your clit until that final thread snaps and you free fall into oblivion, fingers curling tightly against his scalp and making him groan as he works you through your release.
Your limbs go boneless in the aftermath and you collapse against the ground, an arm over your eyes to block out the sun. You hear the sound of water sloshing before Joel lays beside you on his back, arms beneath his head. He turns to look at you, his bright smile making your heart flutter in your chest.
And when he extends an arm out for you to snuggle up against him, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, Joel Miller isn’t such a bad neighbor after all.
“What do you mean you thought I was the asshole?!” Joel asks indignantly as he leaves your bathroom. He’s got a towel held up around his waist and you’re finding it hard to concentrate on his words at this exact moment.
You’ve just finished showering together after your outdoor activities, where you returned his poolside favor with some attention of your own. Now, you’re laying on the bed in your own towel, tired from the sun and the sex.
You’ve also just admitted that you thought he was the worst neighbor. An asshole even. And now he’s looking at you like you’re insane.
“You stole my internet!” He exclaims.
“You can’t prove that,” you reply, maybe a bit too quickly. He raises an eyebrow at you, but you refuse to back down.
“Fine, but you put all those twigs and shit on my porch.”
“They were from your tree, I was simply…returning your property.”
“And the cats?” He crosses his arms. “Because of you, my flowerbeds look like shit and I’ve lost two planters.”
“Not my fault they can sense you’re the weak link. They’re asserting their dominance. Hiss at them or something,” you say with a shrug.
Joel gapes at you. “You can’t be serious.”
“Look, it’s water under the bridge now, right? What can I do to make it up to you?”
He’s silent for a moment before a mischievous grin spreads across his face.
“Where’s that toy you bought, sweetheart?”
_________________
Joel’s got you on your back, your wireless vibrator placed snugly inside of your and against your clit. You’re glaring at him because he’s stopped you from another orgasm. He’s quickly becoming obsessed with that fire in your eyes and the curl of your lip when you’re mad at him.
He presses a trail of kisses from your ankle to the inside of your thighs, nipping the sensitive skin close to your pussy just to hear you gasp. He continues across your abdomen and your breasts, stopping to lavish attention to each sensitive nipple, your back arching against him for more.
“Joel,” you whine, squirming beneath him. He stretches up to capture your lips in a kiss, your lips dragging across his in the most addicting way. His cock slides against the smooth skin of your hip, making him groan. With a flick of his thumb, he turns the toy back on. “Oh, fuck!”
“Want you to come for me this time, baby,” Joel tells you. “Then I want you to come all over my cock, okay?”
You nod, back bowing and muscles straining as your writhe against the vibrations. Joel sits back on his heels to watch you, the way your mouth is dropped open in a silent shout and how your eyes find his at the exact moment you start to come undone.
“Oh my god,” you pant as Joel swiftly removes the toy, the pink silicone shiny with your release. He tosses it to the side and presses his cock to your fluttering hole, sinking inside of you with a deep groan. Your walls are still clenching with the aftershocks of your orgasm as he begins to thrust, slow and deep.
“Fuck, baby, you feel so fuckin’ good,” he growls. He uses a hand to press one of your knees closer to your chest, his fingers wrapped tightly beneath your knee.
The change in angle gets him deeper and his pace grows faster in response to your moans. He can feel you start to pulse around him, each drag of his cock out of your cunt getting harder as your walls squeeze, desperately trying to keep him inside.
“Touch yourself,” Joel commands. “Wanna see you come for me again, pretty girl, come on.”
Your fingers find your clit, swirling through the mess of slick coating your folds. Your eyes are glued to him as you work yourself to the same rhythm of his thrusts. He knows you’re close when your eyes start to flutter, your head dropping back against the mattress and your thighs going tight against his hips.
“That’s it, good fuckin’ girl, just like that,” he growls as you come with a shout of his name. “Christ, you look so damn good.”
You blink at him, your eyes hazy and your smile languid as he chases his own release, using your sensitive cunt for his pleasure. When it gets to be too much, too close, he withdraws, fisting his cock with rough strokes until he comes in thick splashes against your belly.
He collapses on the bed beside you, both of your chests heaving with deep breaths. After a moment, he uses one of the towels to wipe you clean, tossing it to the floor. You glare at him.
“You better put that in the hamper later,” you admonish. He pulls you into his side.
“So, why exactly did you think I was an asshole neighbor?” He asks. To his surprise, you blush, mumbling something he can’t make out. “What?”
“I said because you beat me at the Halloween decorating contest.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes. You have the twelve foot skeleton and I’m jealous.”
“I’ll get you as many skeletons as you want,” Joel laughs. You smile at him.
“Sounds good to me, big guy.”
_________________
The following Halloween, there are two twelve foot skeletons in the neighborhood, and they live right next door to each other.
Joel Miller taglist:
@huffle-punk @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727 @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfelll @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname @morgaussy @letsgroovetonighttt @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @brilliantopposite187 @mattmurdock1021 @str84pedro @justsomeoneovertherainbow @loquaciousferret @milly-louise @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @kirsteng42 @caatheeriinee07 @eternallyvenus @midnightswithdearkatytspb @evyiione @leeeesahhh @tloubarbie @afterglowsb-tch13 @loveliestofthoughts @theviewfromtheritz @brittmb115 @uncassettodiricordi @pedritosgfreal @adriennemichelle98 @mxtokko @gingersince97 @switchbladedreamz @casa-boiardi @tonysterco @rvjaa @ladymunson @sexpoisoned @trisaratops-mcgee @decemberdolly @spookyemorockbabe @reader-without-a-story @katmoonz @simping-soldat @mswarriorbabe80 @orphanbird95 @shatteredbaby @tusk89 @gingersince97 @mssbridgerton @internetobsessed1234-blog @sloanexx @manazo @bigboiseason123 @bean-is-reading @darlingpedro @silkiers @pascals-cat @bbyanarchist @therealcap @pedrosgrogu @dreamingofdaddydin
Want more Joel Miller? Check out my masterlist.
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#joel miller x female reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x you#no use of y/n#joel tlou#joel x reader#pre outbreak!joel#enemies to lovers#hot neighbor
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Whumptober 2023
No. 4 Shock | No. 7 “Can You Hear Me?”
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader (Platonic/Early Relationship)
Setting: Post farm / Pre prison
Warnings: Electric shock, blood, CPR
“M’gonna check the fence.”
“I’ll get the generator.”
It was a safe enough place to make camp. It was freezing, snow coming down in large flakes to stick to the couple of inches already on the ground. Being inside a building was already a blessing but with a fence around it? You couldn’t ask for more!
The few vehicles left to your group were unloaded, everyone else was inside getting set up. You opted to stay close to Daryl, as you often did. Sometimes, he seemed annoyed. Other times, indifferent. But since the fall of the farm, you found that he didn’t seem to mind your company. Hell, he had even sought you out the nights you had watch. Conversation was always light, but the silence in between became comfortable. The man didn’t sleep much, but when he did, he opted to sleep close to the group so that he was near you.
It wasn’t until he started putting his arm around you on cold nights, pulling you back against his chest, that you began to question exactly where you stood with him. Friendship was one thing. That was an entirely different animal. Not that you were opposed. Simply confused. Even more so, when it became a common occurrence.
There wasn’t much you could do right now to help. Staying out of the way, hovering somewhere between Rick and the archer, was probably the best option. You began to check out the treeline, eyes peeled for any signs of danger, living or dead. Thankfully, it was quiet. You felt like you were waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Glancing down at Daryl, he was pulling on sections of the fence, checking their integrity. It seemed like a kind of heavy wire, not chainlink. If it kept out walkers and unsavory characters for the night, it could have been made of playdough for all you cared.
A glance back to where Rick worked found him studying the generator. There was barely enough light of day left for him to see without a flashlight. Maybe you should offer yours. You let the idea move about uselessly in your head while your eyes curiously followed some of the cables from behind the generator. Strange. What was out here that needed power?
The generator was sputtering when you found the metal clips at the end, your brow furrowed. They were attached to the fence. That didn’t make— ‘Oh, shit!’
Y/N, meet other shoe.
“Daryl, let go!” You cried as the noise from the generator spurred to life, your eyes filled with horror just as the archer turned his head toward your call, both hands on the wire. There was a loud sound, like one of those lights meant to fry mosquitos but amplified. Your feet were already moving before Daryl had hit the ground, tendrils of smoke rising from his clothes.
“Oh my god, Daryl! Daryl, can you hear me?” His eyes were closed. Small streams of red filtered from his nose and— oh, god — his ears. His palms were burned, charred and smoking from his grip on the fence, while smaller burns were scattered across parts of his skin that you could see. You didn’t know if you should touch him. Your knowledge of anything medical was limited to smacking someone on the back if they were choking. What help could you be now? “Rick!”
The ex-sheriff was already stumbling onto his knees beside you, nervously assessing the situation. You heard the door open, the others obviously hearing your cries. “What’s going on?” Hershel. Yes! Yes, you needed Hershel!
“Fence. Daryl. Shocked.” You stammered, not making much sense but the old man was jogging over anyway.
“He’s not breathing.” Rick muttered, mostly to himself, with a haunted, panicked glaze over his eyes that you were slowly coming to know very well. He lifted Daryl to remove the crossbow from his back. It’s a wonder the thing wasn’t broken from the impact. Maybe it was. Hershel and Rick moved as if they could read each other’s thoughts. The veterinarian began chest compressions, halting only long enough for Rick to force air into the archer’s lungs with a trembling hand pinching his nose shut.
Everyone had moved closer but kept distance to let the men do what was needed. Except Carol. Through her own tears, she wrapped her arms around your shoulders and pulled you to your feet.
“No.” You mumbled quietly at first, shaking your head before pulling against her to get back to Daryl’s side. “No! Daryl! Daryl!”
“They’re trying to help him!” The older woman reasoned, spinning you so that your cheek was pressed against the front of her shoulder. You could barely see through your tears but Rick was shouting in frustration, and Hershel kept shaking his head. “It’s okay.” Carol whispered. Her fingers carded through your hair but offered little comfort.
“Daryl.” You whimpered, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.
A loud, wheezing inhale came from the ground, followed by a series of coughs. It was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard.
“Glad you’re back,” you heard Rick practically gasp the words, his tense posture relaxing a little. Hershel slumped in exhaustion but it gave you a glimpse of Daryl. He was pale, drawing in quick breaths, and had yet to move.
“Think… fence s’good.”
In all your time with your little apocalypse family, you had never seen Daryl sleep as deeply as he was now. It had only been a few hours since the incident, but the image of him, unmoving, was trapped at the forefront of your mind. Everyone was asleep, aside from T-Dog being on watch by the door. The room was warm, the small fireplace enough to keep a little heat going even as the flames burned lower.
You sat next to where they had placed the archer, giving him the only bed in the building. He protested that Lori should have it, of course, being pregnant and all, but even she had insisted. Exhausted from the trauma, he had fallen asleep soon after Hershel had done his initial checks for early signs of nerve damage or any heart abnormalities. His palms were wrapped heavily, having received the worst of the burns. Dried blood was still beneath his nose and ears, but that could be dealt with later. Gauze covered the other burns on his arms and neck. You were instructed on how to check his pulse and what to watch for while he rested.
“Ya ain’t tired?”
Your eyes had been glued to the rise and fall of his chest, so engrossed that you hadn’t noticed his eyes open. Those pretty, pretty blue eyes.
“No, I’m, uh…I’m good.” You sniffled and moved forward to the edge of the chair, reaching for his wrist. He flinched but didn’t pull back as he would have only a few months before. “Just checking your pulse.” He gave an almost imperceptible nod, eyes slipping closed. Satisfied, you sat back and rubbed a hand over your face. You really were exhausted but letting someone else watch over him wasn’t an option.
“Y’alrigh’?” His eyes were still closed. He must’ve picked up on your uneven breaths or the tap of your foot. Clever jerk.
“Yeah, I’m fine. How are you feeling?”
“Like a human Pop-tart.” He turned his head toward you, eyelids heavy and expression pinched. He was in pain, though he’d never admit it. Hershel had left some Tylenol but you’d have to wrestle him to get him to take it.
Still…
“Hershel left—”
“Don’ need it.”
“Of course you don’t.” You pursed your lips and crossed your arms. “Go back to sleep.”
“Ya need ta sleep too, y’know.”
“I have to keep an eye on your heartrate.”
He hummed, eyes opening a little wider. Without warning he pushed himself up onto his elbows with a wince and moved to the opposite side of the bed, collapsing back onto the pillow.
“What the hell are you doing?!” You whisper yelled. You hoped he could see your irritation in the glare you were giving him since you couldn’t verbally express it at the moment.
“Shuddup an’ get in.” Daryl gave a jerk of his chin toward the now empty space in front of you.
“Daryl, I need to—”
“I gotcha covered. Jus’ get in, damnit.” With an annoyed huff, you toed off your boots and climbed under the blanket, flopping onto your side to face him. “Now c’mere.” The archer stretched out the arm closest to you in invitation. You hesitated. Sure, you’d slept next to him before but he was behind you, keeping you warm. This was…not that. “C’mon, ain’t got all night.” Gulping audibly, you scooted closer, gently laying your head against the front of his shoulder. His arm came around from behind you to rest against your side.
“Won’t this irritate those burns?”
“Nah, s’fine. Gimme yer hand.” You lifted your hand from where you had it sheltered in front of you and allowed him to gently grab your wrist with his fingertips. He was carefully avoiding his wrapped palm coming into contact. Your hand was placed, palm down, against his chest, his fingers pressing it flat. “There. Monitor away an’ get some sleep.” His heart thudded strongly at a regular pace, the feel of it soothing. You found yourself smiling at this sweet gesture, only to look up and be met with his raised brow.
“You’re such an ass. Go to sleep.”
“You firs’.”
“Fine.” A beat of silence. “Think I’ll dream about Rick kissing you again? That was kinda hot.”
“Stop.”
#whumptober2023#no.4#no.7#shock#”can you hear me?”#the walking dead#fic#electric shock#cpr#blood#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon x you#daryl dixon drabbles#daryl dixion x reader#daryl dixion imagine#daryl dixon imagine#daryl dixon x female reader#the walking dead daryl dixon#twd daryl dixon#the walking dead daryl#daryl x you#daryl x y/n#daryl x reader#murda writes
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hiii love
dad’s best friend!cillian catching you throwing a party while you’re parents are away and he’s disappointed but can’t help himself when you make him a drink and ask him to stay
Cillian Murphy Headcanons
Dad's Best Friend!Cillian Murphy x Reader
masterlist
✺ you were absolutely not, under any circumstances, to have anyone over at your house while your family was gone. but of course, you got bored and invited your best friend over, who suggested having a small gathering. and this small gathering ended up not being so small in the end. you can't really say it's your fault, but then again, no one was supposed to be over to begin with.
✺ the party is in full swing by 11 p.m., and you're trying your best to keep the music down at a reasonable volume. but one of your friends, who's been drinking a little more than you, keeps turning it back up. you roll your eyes at him, and he just grins at you innocently.
✺ you're outside on your back patio by yourself, sitting on your wooden porch swing with a mixed drink in your hand. everyone else is inside, and you decide you need to get away from the loud and stuffy party. you're startled when your neighbor and your dad's best friend, Cillian, peeks his head over the privacy fence, "nice party you got goin' on." "shit, cill. you scared me!" you seethe, a hand over your chest. "you know you're not supposed to have anyone over, sweet girl." you roll your eyes at the nickname, even though your heart flutters a little, "I know. I invited my friend over, and it got... out of control."
✺ you offered Cillian the rest of your drink, which was a little stout, but that's how you made them sometimes. he doesn't even wince when he takes a sip, his tolerance fairly high naturally. "not bad," he says, "needs more vodka, though." "there's enough in there to knock out a horse," you snort. "you know you're in trouble right now, right?" you sigh at the older man, "yeah, I do. how does another drink sound? maybe you can stick around with me out here for a while? I don't wanna go back inside."
✺ Cillian reluctantly agrees, still scolding you for not listening to your family, especially your dad. you quickly go inside and pour a cup of Tito's before anyone notices you. slipping back outside, you hand the cup to Cillian and idle by the fence. "better," he smiles after taking a sip. "gonna stick around?" you ask. "maybe," Cillian chuckles. the two of you converse outside until after midnight. everyone has trickled out of your house, including your friends. you're relieved. "wanna come inside? I need company while I clean up." "sure. it can be your punishment to clean by yourself." you groan, "whatever, cill."
✺ after cleaning, it's nearing 1 a.m., and you're still nursing some alcohol in your hand. your family is still away for a few more days, and it's summer, so you have no responsibilities. so, why not? Cillian is next to you on the couch as you both watch a cheesy horror movie that's on tv, his arm on the couch behind you. you're sitting pretty close to him, and you inch closer as the alcohol warms your body. soon enough, you're nestled into his side and his arm is around you.
✺ Cillian looks at you, admiring your side profile as the tv flashes across your face. he reaches a hesitant hand up to your jawline, tracing it with his thumb. you turn your head to look at him, his line of sight right at yours. you nearly bump noses from the close proximity. Cillian glances at your lips and back up to your eyes, his hand that's behind you slipping into your hair. he lures you in, and you don't resist, having found your dad's best friend attractive since you could make sense of the word. you're old enough now to act on your desires, so you do. when Cillian's lips connect with yours, it's like magic. your hands rest upon his cheeks, keeping him engaged with your kiss.
✺ Cillian pulls away, "not telling your dad about this either, correct?" "absolutely not," you shake your head, and Cillian laughs before pulling you back in for another heated kiss.
#cillian murphy#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy x you#cillian murphy x y/n#cillian murphy one shot#cillian murphy imagine#headcanon#headcanons#dad's best friend#dad's best friend!cillian murphy#dad's best friend!cillian#dbf!cillian#dbf!cillian murphy#dbf#dilf cillian#dilf cillian murphy#floralcyanide writes
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Wicked and white, love me in spite. bela dimitrescu x f! reader
bela dimitrescu oneshot
slightly angsty, wholesome, yearning.
hi it's my first writing post pls treat me nicely :D, also feel free to send your requests! i write for the women (bc i'm sapphic) but if u wanna request the dudes it's alright too, just don't put too much hope on it being posted 😭
━━ 🦇 ´ˎ˗
Bela Dimitrescu never felt this way towards anyone.
As the oldest out of her sisters and the heiress to her family's winery business, she would take over a lot more of the dirty work than them, leaving barely any time behind to focus on herself.
She was always overworked, always pressured to be the best.
Her mother always tells her,
"Bela, you are your sisters' role model," Alcina blew smoke from her lips, unamused at the way she lost her composure over a little squabble with her younger sister, Cassandra.
"Yes, mother." Bela kept her head low, rubbing her upper arm slightly.
"Don't disappoint me."
Bela aimed to be the perfect daughter, the perfect heiress but still, she was never enough. She knew she wasn't. But when she saw you and how accepting you were, her walls melted like an ice sculpture by the dawn of spring.
She'd like to believe you were foolish for saving her, but deep down she knew it wasn't true. She was thankful. Thankful that despite the villagers' harsh words for saving a potential murderer of their wives and daughters, you stayed and nursed her back to health.
You were like an angel, much more than Mother Miranda would ever be, that's for sure.
As you watered your garden, she wondered to herself, could you look at her with that expression? A soft smile gracing your angelic features and eyes gleaming with nothing but love. No wonder your garden was filled to the brim with colorful flowers, even Bela can tell they were happy with you.
Could she also feel that?
Dubbed as a monster, mad, and even heartless; could someone like that feel love?
Or was it just wistful thinking?
A vampire and a human never end well anyway.
It's depressing, it's... mortifying how none of them got their happy ending; or at least as far as she's aware of.
She sighed, and when she did, you finally noticed her watching you by the wooden fences.
Molten honeyed eyes burned the sight of the way your face lit up into the depth of her mind. If you could look at her like that everyday, she's sure to become the happiest woman alive.
You approached her, still holding your watering can. She could feel her dead heart hammering against her chest for a few seconds before returning to its silence as she smirked at you. Her heart ached for you, a pain that she was so used to that she grew numb to it.
"How have you been, Bela?"
Your voice, god, your voice.
Bela can just melt into your arms right then and there, but she must stop herself. She wasn't like Cassandra who will keep anyone she's interested in near. She was the opposite, she didn't want you near, she didn't like how you made her feel this way, and yet she always found herself watching you.
Hopeless that she can never tell you how she felt without making herself feel vulnerable.
"I've been faring well." She replied, "How… How have you been?"
"I'm doing good now that you're here." You smiled.
The two of you soon fell into silence as you started to water your plants, now with her company.
It was agonizing, being by your side. Knowing full well that there are countless men and women in the village that can easily snatch you away from her. You were kind and gentle, anyone can find that charming. Heck, her sisters could even steal you away from her easily.
Cassandra was silver-tongued and shameless, she can lure anyone into her grasp as easily as she can murder them.
Daniela was unpredictable and wild, but she was loving, and she was everything Bela was not.
You noticed how she spaced out, reaching a hand out to wipe the dried blood from her lips. Your touch was gentle and it dragged her down to reality.
The reality where you told her that you'll wait for her to be sure of her feelings. You'll wait for however long it takes for her to say those three words. The reality where you belonged to her and she belonged to you despite no other promises being spoken.
She leaned into your touch, her yellow eyes refusing to look at you directly.
But she knew you understood. You understood her better than anyone, better than herself.
You guided her back to your porch where she laid her head on your lap as you sat down, her hood coming off to reveal her long, albeit a little tangled blonde locks.
You thread your fingers through it, detangling it and removing the dried blood clinging to the beautiful strands.
"Bad day?" You asked, closing your eyes.
"..." She shifted on your lap, confirming that she indeed had a bad day. You didn't ask anymore, you knew she didn't like sharing about things that bothered her and that was okay. She needed time and time you will give.
One of her flies landed on your hand, and you noticed it. You chuckled lightly as another desperately pulled your free hand towards Bela, likely her consciousness acting without her control.
You stopped threading your fingers through her locks and she had to stop herself physically from letting out a disappointed whine, you placed your hand on her waist instead and she froze.
"You can stay for however long you'd like, Bela."
You watched as she closed her eyes, another tender smile blooming across your lips, one with more affection than before. Her cold hand grabbed a hold of your warm one, squeezing it before her breathing slowed. Your fingers rubbed her knuckles silently, the contrast between your temperatures was like day and night, dead and alive; and yet you loved it.
You drifted into sleep along with her, perfectly comfortable and content now that she at least stayed and not ran off the second she showed you anything remotely close to physical touch.
Hours later you finally woke up, slowly opening your eyes and stretching your numb arms.
Your lap was absent from her cold body, but what you instead found was a stunning inflorescence of forget-me-not. Did she steal it from your garden? You chuckled.
The blues were easy on your eyes, and the meaning behind it in the flower language made you smile fondly.
"Oh, Bela."
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AITA for telling my five-year-old daughter we can't keep the marine that followed her home.
Now I need y'all to bear with me this will be a long story. Hey, guys, I (23F) am a single mother, now my daughter Eva and I live in a modest-sized house with a fenced backyard that was left to me by my parents. I work a job where sometimes I have to go on business trips During that time my neighbor let's call her Charlotte (50F) babysits Eva during those business trips. Now Charlotte is the type of person to sleep anywhere like on a bench park despite the sounds of screaming kids nearby.
Charlotte's home is quite large with no fencing and with woods; where we live is like a mix of a Slinet Hill-looking town and Red Grave City from DMC that’s like the best way I can explain it. Like an old town that’s been renovated to look more modern but maintains some of the old architecture. but let's get into the main part of this long-winded rant I’m doing.
I came home yesterday to find Charlotte asleep on her front porch with no Eva around. obviously, I woke her and ask her where the fuck my child was at. Turns out Eva was at a nearby park, I trust my daughter to come home safely given the fact the park is not that far from home. But imagine my surprise when my daughter comes home and guess who walks in but a fucking raven guard.
Not going to lie I froze but decided to wait till the raven guard was not around to speak to Eva. Which was harder than I thought because for some reason this raven guard was staring me down like I was a threat to my kid?! After what felt like years, acting like there wasn't a raven guard watching every move and action I did. Which lasted the whole day, I didn't know where he went but when I was helping Eva get ready for bed the raven guard was gone. I bet he was sneaking around my home.
From what Eva told me one day when she was playing in Charlotte’s backyard near the entrance of the woods. what was Charlotte during this time she was asleep on her rocking chair on the patio; apparently Eva tripped and scraped both her knees and of course being the child she is, began to cry and that's when she first met Mr. Eeyore. (the nickname Eva given the raven guard)
Now Mr. Eeyore would often keep Eva company when Charlotte was asleep or during the night time I don’t know how he was able to break into my neighbor's house without her noticing but then again, he’s currently somewhere around my house. Eva told him he could stay with us, which I had to break her heart saying he could not stay with us which led to a tantrum that lasted until she tired herself out. So guys am I an asshole for telling her we can’t keep him. I’m surprised they were even able to bond that fast in one week's time. I can really use everyone's opinions on this matter.
Inspired by @kit-williams and the Barn Anon and thanks for your opinion! ;)
#space marine husbandry#warhammer 40k#raven guard#aita#space marines#space marine husbandry sentience
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Chapter 20
Get the Party Started
I clearly remember how I felt when I got my acceptance letter from Foxbury. I knew that this would mark the true beginning of my life. I would get my dream career, everything was going according to plan.
Even though I had assumed, perhaps a bit arrogantly, that I would get in, I still did a little happy dance in front of the mailbox.
My parents were proud and happy for me, but I suspect they were also looking forward to finally spending some more time alone.
After all, they started dating when my brother was a baby and had never lived alone together.
My own love life was less happy. My girlfriend, Cecilia, who I had been dating for almost a year, told me we needed to talk. I knew what was coming.
She had also been accepted into her dream university, and wanted us to break up before we left.
I knew she was right. We were too young for long distance, and we would both be better off being free while meeting so many new people. Neither of us wanted a messy breakup later in case one of us found someone new.
I knew it was for the best, but it still hurt. Cecilia was my first long-term girlfriend, and I really did love her.
We hung out for a few hours, just enjoying each other’s company one last time. Neither of us wanted her to leave and make it final.
I’m not ashamed to admit that there were some tears when we said goodbye, but I still wished her all the best at her university.
Even harder was saying goodbye to Maggie. She was very old, much older than we ever expected a pitbull to get, and I knew she didn’t have much time left. My parents promised to spoil her completely.
Despite the pain of saying goodbye to everyone, I still felt great when I arrived at Foxbury. I knew that this was where I belonged, my destiny. I had dreamed of this for years.
I immediately started preparing for my first classes, I knew I wanted to be in the top as always.
I also walked around campus, familiarising myself with the new surroundings, especially the common area, Larry’s Lagoon, where the canteen was, as well as a gym, a robotics lab, and a study area.
The very first week, I met Jamie. She just walked over and started talking to me during lunch. At first I wasn’t sure what to make of her. Surely, no one could be that outgoing? The next day, she came over and asked to join me for my morning workout.
She was pretty fit, and it was nice with some company. She could even give me some tips.
I managed a new personal record with her guidance.
At first, I was a little worried that maybe she was interested in me, but it was quickly apparent that she wasn’t into guys at all. We even ended up discussing ex-girlfriends, and I told her all about Cecilia.
Cecilia and I knew each other from school, and had been flirting for a while before meeting up at a coffee shop near the park. I was surprised when she kissed me as a greeting. She then insisted we found a more private place.
We sat in a nearby picnic area. I was a bit shy, and a little startled by her taking the initiative like that, so I nervously messed around on my phone, but Cecilia wasn’t having it.
She demanded my attention. It was honestly refreshing. The few girls I had briefly dated before her were the quiet types, and since I also tend to be quiet until I get to know people, the dates had been pretty lame.
But Cecilia challenged me. She didn’t take no for an answer and she was smart and witty.
Flirting with her was like fencing, both of us taking turns attacking and parrying, throwing smart-ass comebacks at each other.
I don’t believe in soulmates, but if I did, I might have said that she was mine. We matched so well.
When we got tired of bantering, she simply pulled me in for a kiss. No mind games, no insisting that I take the initiative just because I’m the guy.
It was one of the things I loved about her. The simplicity. Everything was so easy with her.
Well, it also didn’t hurt that she was a great kisser.
Talking about Cecilia made me a little sad, but Jamie managed to cheer me up with a few anecdotes of terrible dates she had been on, and just like that, we were friends.
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#duchellilegacy#duchellichapters#duchelligen3#cora duchelli#zane fyres-munch#eric duchelli#cecilia bell#first person pov is here to stay#the curse of being hot is thinking everyone is into you#bonus info cecilia is the granddaughter of michael bell and speaks in a slight henford accent
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