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mushroom-for-art · 1 year

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Nvm we're back to movie au because I'm feeling soft featuring obviously our fav @oogaboogaspookyman horrid little bastard who is no longer a horrid bastard but is now a well mannered British little bastard beloved we love the difference

Accident

It happened very quickly. An incorrectly secured light fixture crashed down onto set smashing and destroying the background pieces scattering glass everywhere and set alight. The fire spread beginning to burn all the props due to the paint that was used, background pieces set alight in a blink, it crawled up the background canvases and spread across the rafters, the lights cracking fizzling out with loud bangs sending the building into darkness and panic.

A support beam collapsed over a fire escape as employees screamed and panicked they ran around coughing desperate for an exit one of them grabbed a fire extinguisher to put out the source but was grabbed by the monochrome Mewtwo who snarled about it being an electrical fire from the light you idiot. May coughed her lungs becoming tight as she looked around with difficulty through the quickly gathering smoke and smog, she was in a panic stuck to the spot. She could see her brother lying on the floor, his head was bleeding. He'd been knocked out as a dark Mewtwo stood over him trying to get the debris off of him.

Screams of panic ringed in her ears making her head throb, why weren't the sprinklers turning on? Oh god were they going to die in here? Burn alive due to inadequate safety measures. There were so many people and pokemon here too many lives that'd be too much death. Coughing screaming yelling panic. More people were collapsing or lying down to escape the smoke for air as it filled up the room heavily weighing down on them all. She couldn't let everyone in here die!

The monochromatic Mewtwo felt the tingling of psychic energy in his fingertips like electricity and before he could yell at May ask what the hell she was doing- he was outside. They were all outside. He spun on the spot levitating slightly looking around in a frenzy, the building crackled and the fire raged on. Everyone was out. No. Not everyone.

"May!"

He yelled quickly flying overhead scanning through the crowd of people that had been teleported out the building he flew down towards her manager, the odd dark hued mewtwo with crystals embedded in her body.

"Wheres May?!"

He half asked half demanded as the Two tended to Matts injuries.

"Is she not out here? I saw her eyes glowing?" She asked shushing Matt who groaned and pushed him down gently when he tried to sit up groggily asking where his sister was.

"If she was out here I wouldn't be asking where she was!"

The frustrated monochrome two snarled at her before looking back at the building in growing horror as he heard a loud creak realizing that she was still inside and hadn't been able to get out.

Without really thinking he flew rapidly at the building, being a ghost had its advantages as he phased through the wall keeping an incorporeal state to avoid the effects of smoke as he looked around frantically. The building was thick with black billowing smoke that rolled in waves blocking his view. He couldn't use psychic to move it as it had nowhere to go and it could shove air into the fire. He frantically scanned around, focusing to sense her aura.

In his altered vision he spotted a faint orange glow that began to flicker and falter weakening and quickly flew towards it, she was on the floor passed out either from smoke inhalation or exhaustion from teleporting that many people out of a building with her already weak powers or both. He became corporeal and coughed against the smoke and the horrible heat as he wrapped his arms under hers to haul her up to carry her.

"I'm not letting you die here you blithering idiot,"

He chastised as he pulled her up attempting to hold her and realizing she was heavy as dead weight and the growing smoke in his lungs was weakening his strength, not to mention the flames were creeping in starting to stretch out and lick at his tail and legs in a way that would likely burn. He snorted frustrated, he pulled her up, arms wrapping around her waist as she made a soft mumble noise.

He realized that flames were closing in, his eyes were watering from smoke and heat as he coughed, he could become ghostly while he had the strength but then he wouldn't be able to interact with her, he could save himself but he wouldn't! He wouldn't just let her die here and save his own skin. He hissed as a flame splashed against him snarling towards it before coughing, breathing becoming harder. He heard another long drawn out creak, and a snap, and a fall. Another support beam came falling down right on top of them, he dropped to a crouch holding his body over hers desperate to summon any strength left into a barrier or any kind of protection.

Another crash could be heard from the building, it took multiple staff members and Pokemon to hold back Matt and Darkness, Matt screamed and yelled profanities at them telling, no, demanding them to let him go because his sister was in there. Darkness also shouted at them to see sense that both the mewtwo in that building inch closer to death every second they waste stopping them. They both went quiet as a large flame burst out from the roof of the building with a loud BOOM.

Matt crumbled in the grip of the people restraining him, falling to his knees as he began to sob in despair and pain. Darkness could only stare forward at the raging flames and thick smoke.

It took hours for the fire department to put the flames out, they were aggressive and unrelenting and the thick smoke meant the trained personnel needed to swap out to a safe distance to regain their breath. When the fire finally dimmed to a manageable flicker it was growing dark, the fire had started in the afternoon…

Search and rescue began their job and once more Darkness was restrained, she wasn't trained like they were, they knew how to move rubble without causing it to collapse elsewhere potentially crushing any survivors, she did not. She could only watch in frustration as they slowly methodically did their job. She'd refused care due to her wounds already healing from the synergy energy, Matt had to be given light sedatives for his aggression so he was more, agreeable, about being taken away to be seen for his head injury and assorted burns.

A Gurdurr and Medicham worked together, the Medicham scanning the surroundings with psychic energy to get a mental blueprint of the chaos and carefully instructing Gurdurr on which parts to lift to safely deconstruct the wreckage without causing it to collapse. The Gurdurr carefully threw aside a large ceiling concrete slab before vocalizing to the Medicham. A swirling white and black dome like shape sat planted into the ground with debris piled on top of it. The Medicham vocalized to the other pairs to come help as they began to remove the debris, the human supervisors coming along too, as the broken building was removed the dome seemed to reduce in opacity becoming semi see through.

Inside May and the monochromatic Mewtwo clung to one another desperately, his eyes were shut with dark psychic energy pouring out from the sides of his closed eyes waving and flowing out. May's eyes were wide open but unseeing, completely whitened over and glowing faintly with her psychic energy. Neither of them seemed aware of the situation both just clinging as the dark and white psychic energy protecting them both swirled around them both desperately wanting to protect the other, forming one rather indestructible long lasting protect.

When the last piece of debris was safely removed one of the human search and rescue members gently knocked their knuckles against the very dense protect dome, "can you two hear us?" May's eyes faltered into half lids her psychic energy sparking and fading from her eyes and the dome, she blinked slowly and blinked again before slumping completely limp in the monochrome ones arms as her grip slipped from him, his eyes opened in a start the dark psychic energy overflowing from his eyes darkening the dome over as he snarled before he blinked realizing that it was help. His psychic energy gently blew away in a breeze before he shivered at the cold.

The psychic search and rescue members lifted May's unconscious body onto a stretcher to be taken to an ambulance while the people attempted to look the monochromatic one over. He shoved them away flying up and wobbling slightly in tiredness but followed them into the ambulance taking up the relative seat in the ambulance next to May as they began trying to help her much to Darkness' frustration at the audacity. He slapped away attempts to look him over, snarling at the ambulance worker to focus on the unconscious one, not him.

——————————————————————

The monochrome ones' leg bounced irritated and frustrated as he sat in a chair next to the orange hued Mewtwos hospital bed. He'd been forcefully seen to, so his wounds were bandaged up and he'd been given oxygen and instructions to not go near lung irritants and just to take cough drops for his throat and rest and get sleep. However sleep he would not do, he'd been up all night besides her having left his own bed watching over her in her room, her smoke inhalation had been worse than his as was her burns, she had a breathing mask on to help ensure she got enough oxygen which also acted as a filter that helped remove the lingering smoke in her lungs with each exhale. He'd dragged a night nurse into the room in a panic when he noticed her condition becoming worse, her over exhaustion leading to sickness and a fever so she'd been put on some drip fluids too due to how weakened she was from over exerting herself with her powers.

He'd paced the room multiple times, aggressively straightening the curtains to ensure no moonlight crept in and disturbed her, made sure the blanket properly covered her and tucked her in, fluffed her cushion, checked her medical sheet and that she was hooked up properly multiple times. As of right now he was gently holding her wrist, his fingers pressing faintly to feel her pulse, just to be sure the machines were correct that's all. He sighed softly hanging his head as his leg bounced, the TV in the room mumbled nonsense that he couldn't make out as he was actively ignoring it, especially as it was talking about the fire, his fingers moved down her wrist brushing over her palm hesitantly choosing to rest his two main fingers in her palm pressing them against her hand and squeezing with his thumb at the back of her hand, an unsure hand squeeze without committing to a full hand hold.

He was beginning to grow frustrated ready to aggressively sort her room out again when her thumb twitched and the best it could, squeezed his fingers against her palm. He looked up to see her eyes barely open as if her eyelids were incredibly heavy which they probably were for her.

"Who's getting sued…?" Her voice was incredibly small and croaked before she coughed realizing she definitely shouldn't have spoken. He panicked slightly moving his hand and getting a glass of water for her saying gently,

"hey hey easy,"

He carefully adjusted her bed position so it slowly lifted her into a slanted sitting position not perfectly upright just so she'd still be resting and comfortable, he carefully helped pull back the breathing mask and held the glass to her lips with psychic encouraging her to take small sips less she start coughing again, refusing to move his hand from where it gently half held hers.

When she'd drank about half he put it down and replaced the mask as she breathed and smiled at him, her hand shifted and squeezed his properly holding it, "if you wanted to hold hands you could've asked, didn't need to burn a building down." She made a soft laugh as she squeezed his hand again, her usual cheery joking self despite what happened.

His mouth opened slightly and shut in surprise both at the fact they were now just squeezing each others hands and that was embarrassing and also the accusation though empty.

"I'll burn this whole goddamn building down,"

He chuntered unhappily before pausing and looking back at May.

"Hold on, no, you do not get to get out of this so easy by joking around, what the hell were you thinking?! You could've died?! Why didn't you teleport yourself out with everybody else!"

Admittedly his tone was a lot harsher than he'd meant it to be as May stared at him in surprise before her eyes looked away from him.

"I'm, sorry, I wasn't really, thinking about saving me, just that I couldn't let everyone else die. And even then you still got hurt," her voice was soft and guilty.

The monochrome one stared at her a bit before looking away he went to open his mouth to speak.

"Wait, where's Matt? Is he okay?! I saw his head bleeding? Did he get help?!" May tried to sit herself up and he gently but firmly pushed her back down.

"Your brother is fine he's in another room getting spoiled by some male nurses, now would you STOP thinking about everybody else and fucking think about yourself in this?! You have horrid burns, you inhaled so much smoke and you got a feverish sickness because your body was so weak and overworked! What if I hadn't found you or realized you weren't outside with us?! There's a very real chance you could've died in that fire! I could've- we. We could have lost you. And you have a lot of people who care about you. So why don't you?"

May gripped the bed sheets uncomfortably as she sat there again avoiding his gaze as his eyes softened and he frowned at her. She shrugged uncomfortably and he could see her struggling for the words and the anxiety prickling inside her. He gently squeezed her hand waiting to give her a fair chance to answer.

"....I just don't find that there's much to care about.." Her voice was riddled with guilt as she struggled, "I know, well just, I know compared to a lot of others that I'm, different." She moved her spare hand vaguely, "and, that, made it hard to connect to people, and as well I'm weak, I mean a mewtwo who can't even use her powers properly for herself, pft. Don't have much going for me overall. I know I'm, loud and optimistic and seem confident and sure but, I don't really like myself. Not really. I don't know. Maybe some horrid self pitying self obsessed part of myself believed I didn't really deserve to be saved like everyone else so that's why I wasn't teleported out too, and I guess maybe that self absorbed part of me went well look at that now we can't do anything because you used up all your strength and you're going to let yourself die because you're so pitiful and weak just to what make a point." She shrugged awkwardly, grabbing at her shoulder, "you got hurt because overall I'm a bad person, too obsessed with myself, I mean I'm a lot luckier than other people. I'm much better off than other people and yet here I am feeling sorry for myself and not liking myself. How selfish is that?" She squeezed her own shoulder to self soothe as the guilt began to creep in. "God I'm sorry, I shouldn't have dumped all that on you, here I am again being the biggest selfish, no, no I'm sorry I'm, spiralling you don't need to hear me insult myself because that just manipulates you into having to pity me and tell me it's fine and it's okay when it's not an-"

He moved the mask using his free hand to put a finger on her lips to stop her spiral rambling as he frowned at her softly.

"I don't think you're selfish, I don't think you're physically capable of being selfish, mostly because of your lack of healthy boundaries, but also because you're a good person and sharing and being kind is part of your nature. You're not a bad person for being unhappy even if you think you should be. You're more complex than just the happy May you always are with people."

He moved his finger but pointed threateningly when she opened her mouth.

"No shut up, I'm still talking. You know how I know that you're a good person even when that voice of doubt tells you you're wrong? Do you remember how we first met?"

May blinked but nodded, opening her mouth before being shushed again.

"Shut."

She smiled playfully, closing her mouth to listen.

"You came right up to me when I was lurking in the background with your drink and two brownies from the food table and you smiled at me and introduced yourself right to me, you said you were absolutely over the moon to meet and be working with me, that you'd seen my other shows upon learning we'd be coworkers and that you thought I was really talented and amazing. I know back then I just stared at you as you offered my one of the brownies you'd taken saying you got me one since I was so far away, you know why I was staring? Because you were the first person I've ever worked with to walk right up to me and introduce themselves with unfaltering kindness and warmth."

He glanced away as he spoke.

"The reason I was so far away is because a lot of the time everyone on set that I'm working with is absolutely terrified of me, which I get, it's the eyes I think. But you didn't seem afraid at all."

He looked back at her.

"You have probably brightened so many peoples' days by existing, and I know that voice probably tells you that you're different or weak or secretly evil or whatever insults and feelings you've internalized, but you bring out so much kindness to everyone no matter what."

May squeezed his hand unsure of how to even respond, mouth opening and closing as she struggled. His other hand came to hold hers squeezing her one hand with both of his.

"When you're better, I think we should look into some therapy for you because if you couldn't teleport out because a part of you believes you didn't deserve to be okay then I am really deeply concerned about that because I never want you in that situation again okay?"

May nodded softly as he squeezed her hands again softly confirming an "okay." He smiled softly at her as he gently put his forehead to her hand that he still held.

"You're a big sweetheart ya know, even if you are a horrid drink stealer" May softly spoke and he chuckled knowing she was deflecting slightly now with humor as she usually did from heavier topics but clearly speaking fondly of him.

"Hmm. Just don't go telling anybody."

"I won't." She squeezed his hands the best she could. "I think you're real great too you know, I'm glad you're in my life you do make it better." And he smiled softly to himself.

#I could've-we. We could've lost you #I'm not letting you die here #My writing #Mewtwosona May #@oogaboogaspookymans ???#@oogaboogaspookyman oc #Tw fire #I gave them loreeeee I gave them back storyyyy oh noo I'm soft they're soft the joke ship thoughts they're getting me AAAHH #I am dragged away into the ocean lmao #??? Is big soft on May. That's HIS little ray of sunshine thank you very much she gave him brownie #Also May honey are u okay (she is not)#May is the kind of character who seems fine happy perky friendly optimistic loud joyful and she absolutely hates herself #Like I mean working in movie biz probably does that to you but also the autism coding and the powerlessness #To some degree yes the self loathing hatred of I don't deserve saving their lives are more important/god you self important self pitying #Self sacrificing proving a point cause you're the WORST horrid voices did contribute to her inability to escape #But also she was heavily prioritising everyone else and drained probably all her PP in teleport #Like everything she does is mentally criticised by herself because actually you're just faking everything. Bitch.#Baby girl that is called the mental illness #??? Like plz get therapy holy shit I'm worried about you #And also 👀🤔🤨 kinda sus #And waiting around at her bedside? Sus lmao #He CARES he has a lot of care in him lmao likes this person a lot #Also deflects with humor a mood #Originally Matt was meant to attempt to get in the room and ??? Was gon slam the door shut and lock it because no he's not sharing May yet #And May was gonna jokingly call him an overprotective husband like aw my hubby has spoken he's so protective lmao while he's like shshshh #Also lmao I love that movie?? Gets the dialogue like font change but not the bold XD it's my way of differentiating only bad boys get bold #Also!! He cares so much I'm screaming #Fungal Spooks Studio

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shivermewhiskerz · 1 year

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//Venting in Tags:: TW Sewerslide and shit like that

#dude seriously sometimes I think I’d be better off dead. and the people around me would be better off if I wasn’t around #I know they love me they say it all the time but at the same time in the back of my head there’s just this little voice telling me like #telling me its all fake. telling me theyre only staying out of pity for me or something like that #theres so many things wrong with me and if it’s not on the inside or how I act its how Im presented #I hear it all the time ‘you need to lose weight’ or ‘your face looks bad (acne)’ or literally anything #even small shit like I got told I was feminine and it hit me like a truck #I never EVER liked myself #I cant remember a time when I did #even when I was little I knew there was something wrong with me #I genuinely cant remember a single time when I was happy with myself and my life #I love my friends more than anything #and I have family members I would do anything for #but I know damn well what a disappointment I must be. Im not productive I don’t talk to anybody irl I don’t do anything irl I’m just #lazy and gross and depressed and stupid #I hate myself I always have and I don’t think I’ll ever stop hating myself #I have a fucking suicide note written and everything because I know one of these days somethings going to happen #and I won’t be able to stand it #and I’ll do something idiotic #and I’ll find the one permanent solution to a possibly temporary problem #I don’t want to be this way but I can’t bring myself to fix anything #it’s like my mind and body won’t let me get better. maybe i was just destined to be this gross fucking thing #maybe that’s it #maybe I don’t have a purpose. maybe I was just born to suffer #who knows. maybe Im overthinking everything. maybe im fine. maybe it’s gonna be ok. but I don’t know #I just don’t know anymore #I don’t know what to do

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dumbdomb · 1 year

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ok, anon. i'll try that one when i'm ready to record!! feel free to send other ideas if you think of anything <3

#hoping i may get a chance tomorrow or maybe next week bc i don't get much privacy x3 #fake pity voice huh 💕#domb brain

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clingylilhoneybee · 2 years

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Uhm anyway how do you tell someone you absolutely want them to take advantage of things that could hurt you?

#i said I’m not that type of masochist too many times #but I got hella sunburnt on both my hips #n at some point teddy grabbed onto them #…. and I am that type of masochist #it hurt so bad n just made me instantly more subby #currently in a little floaty daydream #about him gripping onto them while he uses me #using that fake dom pity voice🥺🥺🥺#ridifhrjror

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makaizou · 11 months

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moaning "oh my god" and he says "no no, that's not my name. what's my name?"

#in the teasing fake pity voice 🤤#I'm daydreaming

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cordeliawhohung · 4 months

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you try and fake an orgasm with Simon (based off this post)

when you and Simon fuck, it's always passionate. he refuses to give you anything less than his all, sucking on your clit and pumping your cunt full with his fingers, curling them just like he knows you go crazy for. and it's divine. it brings you nirvana just to slam you right back into your body with its tingling nerves and fizzing skin. he always says the sweetest things, mumbling about how perfect you are, how he can't get enough of you, caressing your body like its a marble statue of a forgotten goddess he can't stop mumbling the name of.

nothing's changed about his love. not his lips on your skin or his cock shoved into your cunt, metal piercings stimulating that spongy spot inside of you. you should be clenching around him, crying out like a bitch in heat, but all the intense emotions that you know should be there are muted. all that pleasure is watered down by some other insidious emotion that's severed that delicious connection that should be there between you and Simon.

still, despite that pit in your stomach eating up that tasty stimulation, you perform. he pulls countless moans from your lips, has your fingers digging into the tense muscle of his shoulders, and yet you are nowhere close to finishing. it feels like you're so far from an orgasm that you've never once experienced it in your entire life. but Simon's been going for so long, pushing all the right buttons in all the right ways, getting you so close to your release and yet so far from it. perspiration sits heavily along his hairline, wetting his hair and making it stick to his forehead in small clumps.

you're taking too long. he's never cummed before you before, Simon's always prioritized your pleasure before his, and the poor man is basically edging himself and has been for what feels like eternity. hushed words always fall from his mouth like a saccharine waterfall when he's close, and he hasn't stopped muttering praise after praise into your ear.

"so fuckin' beautiful, takin' me so well, aren't 'cha?"

when his thumb begins its gentle massage on your clit, you almost cry. it feels so good, but it's tantalizing, promising you the release you desperately crave and yet can't seem to obtain. utter torture. and Simon's watching you through heavy lidded eyes, eager to watch you come undone, and it's all too much. so you arch your back with a desperate pornographic moan while your eyes screw shut in feigned ecstasy. and it's terribly pathetic, pitiful even, but it's all you have. one stupid, paltry faked orgasm.

Simon's movements cease. the pumping of his cock in your cunt, his swirling thumb on your clit; everything. your panting mixes with his in some dull harmony as he leans forward, hands resting on either side of your head while his body hovers over yours.

"sweetheart... what was that?"

all the moisture is sapped from your mouth the moment that question leaves Simon's lips. your current position is terribly vulnerable. stark naked with your boyfriend between your legs and his dick nestled deep inside of you; you couldn't get more exposed than that. however that question made things all the more daunting.

"w... what do you mean?" you ask, unsure if your voice is unsteady because of your exhaustion or anxiety.

"that just now," he explains. "are you tryin' to fake it?"

all you can do is lay there and stare up at him, eyes as wide as saucers and growing with moisture by the second. white hot shame burns through you, searing through your chest and stomach to the point where you feel like you'll be sick. you don't know what to say. lie further, or fess up and tell the truth? instead, you take the secret third option that is bursting into tears.

as soon as the tears fall from your face Simon has you wrapped up in his arms within the instant. no longer inside of you, he makes it so that both of you are lying on your sides, facing one another as you bury your face in his chest. he shushes you, tries to comfort you as he smooths a hand over your head but all you can do is apologize.

"talk to me, sweetheart," he urges, "what's goin' on?"

snot runs thick and heavy in your nose, forcing you to sniffle and nearly choke on the sensation, and still you keep your face hidden away.

"i'm sorry, i just- i just can't. it feels nice but i just can't finish and i was taking too long and, and i just- i don't know-"

"hey, s'alright," he coos, "these things happen sometimes. you just gotta let me know what's goin' on, yeah?"

"i know, i'm sorry," you sniffle.

"nothin' to be sorry about," he assures you. "there's nothin' in the world that you could say to me that would make me mad at you, love. if somethin' isn't workin' for you, i wanna know, yeah?"

all you can do is nod your head in response to him, and he places a firm kiss against the crown of your head. he holds you for a while longer before pulling away so he can sit up. you wipe any remaining tears off of your face as you watch him slip out of bed before holding his arms out towards you.

"c'mon, let's get you cleaned up," he says.

still sniffling, you sit up in bed and stare up at him, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "but... what about you?"

equally as confused, Simon leans forward and takes your hands into his as he helps you off the bed. "what about me?"

"you... didn't get to finish," you say meekly.

"yeah, neither did you."

his tone left no room for argument, and you're already halfway out of the bedroom by the time you fully comprehend just what he meant. but it doesn't take long before you forget all about it. you're in the bath and Simon's washing away all the shame and embarrassment from your body. his hands scrub your body clean, and he kisses away the thoughts that plague your mind until you're full of so much love you forget all about what had you upset in the first place.

#mafia!simon #mafia!ghost #mafia!141 #simon riley smut #ghost smut #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader smut #simon riley x reader smut #simon ghost riley x reader smut #f!reader

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ellieslittlewh0re · 3 months

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━ 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐍 ୨⎯ 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐎𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐖𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧! 𝐀𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ⎯୧

𖧷

𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖳 𝟣 - 𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖳 𝟤 - 𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖳 𝟥

⟢ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗁𝗅𝗒 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗎𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝗈, 𝗅𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗇𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗒/𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗓𝗒 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝗇.

⟢ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗉! (𝖺𝖻𝖻𝗒 𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 mid-𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝟥𝟢𝗌, 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝟣𝟫-𝟤𝟤 𝗂𝗌𝗁) 𝖺𝖻𝖻𝗒 𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝗏𝗈𝗋𝖼𝖾𝖽 & 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗄𝗂𝖽, 𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗇 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 (𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒) 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍

𝙖/𝙣 - 𝗂 𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝟤-𝟥 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄

It was a slim chance, almost next to none that you out of all people would get the job. It's not like you have any experience with taking care of kids, maintaining a house, and especially of this scale. But here you were, standing in front of your new home, at least for next however long you can keep your new boss satisfied.

The driveway itself felt like it was straight out of a movie- luxury cars, perfectly polished laid stone, lined with landscaping around the edges that looked almost fake from a distance, not a singular blade of grass being out of line.

As you take in the surroundings, slowly making your way up the (what feels like) mile long driveway, a man is closing the front door behind him.

"Hello!" He calls out, waving his hand in your direction to come over.

He extends his arm as you approach him, offering a gentle handshake, and introduces himself as Owen.

He looked slightly out of place, not as much as you did, but still noticeable.

You laughed nervously, still unsure who "Owen" is supposed to be.

"Are you the one who I emailed about the job?" You asked, clenching your fingers nervously around the handle of your suitcase.

He placed his hands on his hips, looking a little off-guard before seemingly understanding,

"No, no, sorry, that would be my wife- ex wife." He corrected himself, giving you a tight lipped smile that felt more like a soothing self-pity tick.

You nodded, and looked around, unsure of what to say next.

"Sorry-" He laughed again, "I'm just stopping by to drop our son off. She's inside."

"Ah" You mouthed, and thanked the man. He walked past you, past the Bentley, and approached the driver side of the less expressive looking car in the driveway before turning around and shouting a "good luck".

What you do know- 1. Your boss is a woman, 2. She's divorced (seemingly), and 3. She's seriously fucking loaded.

What the man meant by "good luck" you can only assume. Maybe she's a bitch, or maybe, he's just bitter about whatever their history is, but you don't even have time to think of the possibilities because the front door is opening once again.

"You're late."

She stood in front of the wooden, 8, maybe 9 foot tall door, not even bothering to look at you as she fiddled with the cufflinks on her perfectly tailored, white button down.

"I'm so sorry, I had a uber cancel-"

She sighed, very clearly unimpressed by your excuse.

"Bedtime is at 7, and there's food in the fridge-"

She turned, walking inside, and you had to pick up your pace to keep up with her longer strides as she briefly escorted you through the foyer, and into the kitchen, "There's emergency contacts here in case of an emergency." She sighed deeply, from annoyance or exhaustion you couldn't tell, pointing to a small notebook island.

You rocked on your heels, nodding at her every word because, honestly, you were scared and weren't sure if you could trust your voice at this point.

"Alright." She exhaled, not really directed at you, and picked up a coat that was hanging on the back of a bar stool, draping it over her arm, "Oh, one more thing-" She leaned forward, and placed a hand on your shoulder, violating your senses with her cologne, "-don't give him any sugar after 4, he'll keep you up all night."

You looked up, and finally, she sees you, her blue eyes etching themselves into yours.

"Yes, ma'am."

And Abby wasn't sure if it made her feel better or worse when she did this. Sure, you seemed responsible enough- shy and respectful, but shit, you were pretty.

She backed away and cleared her throat, turning her back towards you as she made her way towards the direction of the front door, the heels of her chairman shoes echoing against the hardwood floors.

The house was eerily quiet when there wasn't a 4-year-old running around and filling its vastness with his laughs and clanking of toys, not that you minded though, you were exhausted.

You sat in what looked to be the "family room", given the chest of toys, and large mounted t.v. with leather couches that felt too firm, almost like they had never been sat in by someone who weighed over 40 pounds, still, it served it purpose in giving you the place to readjust.

What you do know- 1. She works late, 2. Her son's name is Carter, and 3. She's scarily attractive.

Wait-

She's attractive? No- you can't think that. She's your BOSS, and she has a ex-husband, so, she's most likely straight, right?

You got up, pacing around the house, and looked around to make sure everything was where it should be in hopes it kept your head occupied.

You re- read through the notes she had left behind in the note pad, what the security code was, where your room was etc... but, even then, you still found yourself examining her handwriting, which also found a way to look expressive.

And then you thought about how she dressed- clean and sharp, the muscles in her back flexing as she walked away, and how tightly her shirt hugged her arms-

Your head darts towards the archway that just barely kept the front door out of sight, the faint beeping of the security code being dialed in freezing you.

The door opened and closed, the wall still shielding the company, and you anxiously fixed yourself- pushing strands of hair behind your ears and smoothing out the wrinkles on your pleated skirt.

Abby rounded the corner, looking down while unbuttoning the first three buttons of her shirt before looking up.

She looked shocked to see you standing there, and evidently waiting for her to get home.

She remembered telling which room was yours in the notes, right?

"Jesus it's-" She looked down at the watch on her wrist, "- It's almost 11. What are you still doing awake?" She sounded almost annoyed like she was looking forward to the peace and quiet that you now ruined, but she wasn't annoyed per se.

See, it's been a while since she has been this attracted to someone, and after being married for 12 years and losing all the skills that comes with flirting, she wasn't sure how to handle it.

"Couldn't sleep." You lied, knowing you didn't even try to go to bed, but she doesn't need to stress herself out with you when she has her own stuff to deal with.

Abby sat at the kitchen island, pushing her sleeves up to her elbows, and you can't help but notice the new skin- the thickness of her forearms and how the muscles curved along the side.

She looked exhausted- still polished, but the front stands of her hair were now loose from her slicked-back hairstyle, gently dancing over her cheeks when she moved her head.

Suddenly, you felt like a burden and didn't want to piss her off more than you thought you already had. So, you excused yourself and started to walk past her towards the hall, but she stuttered something, something that you didn't quite catch.

"Hm?" You turned around, eyes wide and eager to hear what she had to say.

It's been awhile since anyone cared that much to listen to her, she thought.

"Care for a drink?" As soon as the question left Abby's lips, she felt a little embarrassed- hell, she wasn't even sure if you were old enough to drink, not that she cares if a person under the age of 21 drinks alcohol, but she does care if the question came off... weird.

Maybe it was weird.

By the look on Abby's face, it's like you had already declined her offer- defeated and a little bit of a bruised ego, ready to remove herself from the conversation all together, and never speak of it again.

"Sure." You agreed, smiling at her, and she returned the smile, her face lighting up like she hadn't sat down with someone for a drink in a long time, which is no surprise to anyone when you're a mom and have a long, demanding work schedule.

She got up, walking across the kitchen to an intricately detailed wooden cabinet, "What do you want?"

She started to list all the different names of liquor, some sounding foreign to you as you sat down in the barstool that was next the one she was occupying previously, swiveling it back and forth with your feet, "I'll have what you're having." You say sweetly, not wanting her to go through the extra effort of pouring something different.

She chuckled, looking at you over her shoulder before dropping her head, shaking it back and forth.

She pulled a bottle from the middle shelf, setting it on the counter along with two short glasses.

She poured the dark caramel liquid, filling the glass by only an inch or two, and slid it across the island, "Ladies first." She motioned her hand, waiting for you to taste it.

You brought the crystal to your lips, your cheeks hot from the undivided attention she was giving you, but you brushed it off and tilted the glass back.

The liquor burned your throat, every part of you wanting to spit it out, but you swallow anyway.

"It's good." You lied, and not very convincingly, which humored Abby, chuckling at your reaction before pouring her own drink, filling it more than what she had done for yours.

She cornered the counter, joining you in the bar seats, "You get used to it."

You were too shy to look at her face in case her eyes met yours, but you had no issue with looking at her hands- how big they were, almost making the glass disappear in her grip, the veins running across the top of them that trailed your eyes to her fingers- also strong and thick to match the rest of her.

You caught yourself staring too hard- pulling your eyes away and grabbing your glass, taking another painful sip.

Abby was, of course, oblivious to this, thinking you were just trying to appease her.

The drinks got forgotten in the conversations you two shared, and now, sitting with her on the couch, talking like you had known her longer than just a day, but you could thank the alcohol for that one.

You weren't necessarily wasted, but it was the kind of drunk where you weren't really paying attention to what Abby was saying or why she was even laughing for that matter... something about her son? Whatever.

You were, however, paying attention to her face, how beautiful she was, and how her hand so effortlessly settled on your bare thigh, and a warmth that pooled into the pit of your stomach following.

When Abby realized she was touching you, she jerked away and cleared her throat, "It's late-" She stood up, half facing away from you so you wouldn't notice that she- a full-grown, mature woman was blushing, and not only that, but she was blushing over her brand-spanking-new employee.

A small disappointed "oh" brushed past your lips before you ultimately agreed.

It's probably for the best to keep this relationship professional, Abby knew this, but fuck, she'd be lying if she denied the fact she thought about you the moments leading up to her falling asleep that night.

⟢ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 @aouiaa @macaroni676 @sheluvslilith

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nexusnyx · 1 year

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miss sunshine

pre-outbreak Joel Miller x neighbor!reader [7.3k] summary: He's always been out of reach. A fantasy. Joel was too much of everything—too handsome, too friendly, too una-fucking-vailable for any of you. Too bad his kid adores you. (What a blessing.) Too bad she uses you as a scapegoat and lands him right on his door. One bottle of wine, and Joel shows you he might be closer than you thought. 📝 I wanted to try something different. Less hurt, less end-of-the-world bullshit. Let me know your thoughts. Reblogs and comments are much appreciated. ⚠️Smut. Minors, DNI. Explicit depictions of sex, oral (f and m receiving), riding, missionary, passionate neighbors sex, yay.

read on ao3 | masterlist

ㅤㅤㅤㅤTexas, Summer of 2002.

When the bell rings, you think it's best to ignore it.

Living alone equals a lot of privileges, but the ability to go out alone and answer the door on a random Wednesday evening was not one of them. You're wearing compromising clothes and a robe, the bottle of wine you craved was finally open, and the last thing you wanted was to be murdered before enjoying it.

Then, you hear it. Your name, followed by, "It's Miller. Joel."

Fuck.

Well—this is exactly how many of your dreams started. Although this wouldn't go like them, for him, you'd open the door.

His eyes do little to hide the once-over when the door slides open.

They go down, then back up, and he seems to catch on to the fact that you saw it. Then, he shakes his head just a little, and says, "Is Sarah here?"

Well, well, well. You lean against the door. "Did she say she was?"

Joel pierces you with his Dad Look. "Yes." Obviously, it goes without saying.

What other reason would he have, right? Clearing your throat, you feel the anxiety bubbling underneath the surface. "Uhm. She isn't," you look apologetic as you say it. As if it's your fault his prepubescent daughter uses you as a scapegoat.

His sigh is enough to make you feel how tired he is. Overworked. Exhausted.

You try to understand what might've happened before he loses his mind, "What time d'you usually come back from work? Maybe she's at a friend's. She probably thought you'd be back later than this."

He finishes rubbing both palms all over his face, and he threads one hand through his hair. "I'm usually back at nine—well, I'm supposed to be back at nine. I'm usually home by ten." That checks out, then. "But—that doesn't explain why she lied to me."

"Any special occasions coming up soon?"

Joel frowns. "Uhm. My birthday's in a few days, but—"

"Ahhhh." It shuts his mouth, the way you exclaim it so clearly. "She's brainstorming, Joel."

"Brainstorming...?"

"A gift." No daughter had easy access to what made their fathers happy. You take pity on him. "C'mon—let me scare the little one."

You walk inside without waiting for his reply, knowing Joel will make his way in. "What d'you mean, scare her?"

The noise of his boots hitting the floor makes you happy.

You take the phone out of the wall and look at him. "She always keeps that cellular phone with her when she goes out?"

"Always," he nods.

"Perfect." You know it by heart already. As you dial, you feel Joel's eyes on your house. It's the first he's ever been inside, and it makes you hyperaware of every movement of his. "It's ringing," you inform him with a grin forming.

He looks confused. More tired than anything else, but it'll make sense in a second.

"Hey, miss Sunshine!" the nickname she gave you always brings a smile to your face.

Time to put on a show. Feigning panic in your voice, you yell-whisper on the phone, "S, love, would you mind telling me why on Earth is your pops—" you fake cover your end of the line to yell, "one minute!" then you're back at whispering again, "why is he parked outside my house right now? Is there something I should know?"

"Oh, shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit—"

You're glad he can't hear her end of it. "No time for panic. Explain."

"I am so sorry, Sunny! I thought he'd be back in like, two hours or something. Oh, god, can you please cover for me? I wrote a note saying I was at your place. Sleeping there. I was gonna call you before he came back home but Jenny and I—"

"You're at somebody named Jenny?" you repeat the information, looking at Joel with a question in your eyes, and when he nods, your heart soothes at knowing she's safe. "And you didn't think to mention your brilliant idea earlier?" going for the full effect again, you yell out, "One minute, Joel!"

At least she's fast in her rambles. "Yeah, yeah. My best friend. She's trying to help me come up with a surprise for him. I'm not there often and it's never on his birthday. I wanna make it special."

"Okay. Cool. Next time, fill me in as you make the plans."

"I will, I promise. Pinky promise. You think you can convince him I'm sleeping there?" the plea in her voice is adorable.

You chuckle. "I've got you, S." Joel sighs in relief in front of you. "Just one thing."

"Yeah?"

"Be back here tomorrow first thing in the morning. 7:30 sharp. I'm gonna invite your dad for breakfast, as punishment for your lack of planning, and you'll be the one making us the pancakes," before she can even answer, you go, "Toodles!" and hang up.

When you put your phone back at the base, you turn around with a proud smile.

Joel's looking at you funny. "You're good at that," he says.

"At what? Acting?" you laugh when nods. "I was a trouble child. I'm great at lying."

"Aren't those the same?"

"Eh. A thin line separates them." You can sense his awkwardness creeping up, so you do your best to think on the spot. "Is she one to escape?"

"Not really, no." He's shuffling on his feet, uncertain of what to do in your home. "She's never done this before."

"From what she told me, she's never around for your birthday."

"That's true."

"She wants to make a surprise for you," you inform. It puts that smile on his face that makes your knees a little weak. "And now she has to be back here at seven in the morning. All is well."

He laughs. "Yeah, I guess so."

He's gonna see himself out. You swallow all the nervousness that being in his presence creates and just... goes for it. "Is it hard? Having a kid?"

That relaxes some of the tension in his shoulders. He leans on the counter of your kitchen and shakes his head. "Not really. It's a lot of work, but it's not hard. It's rewarding."

I wish my mother felt the same. You smile at the truth in his words. "I can see it's hard work." He laughs again. "Well—I had just opened that before you rang the bell," you point at the Pinot on top of the counter. "Want a glass? Unless you tell me you're 'only beer' kind of guy, then I can't help ya."

Joel looks between you and the bottle a couple of times, then looks down at himself. "I'm uh—I'm all greasy and gross from work. You sure that's the company you want for wine?"

Rolling your eyes, you walk towards your glasses cabinets. "If I told you that you can go home and shower, you'd never come back."

"And that'd be a bad thing?"

"Sure it would. You're the only person in this entire street that hasn't interrogated me on my life so far, I feel left out. Offended, even," you add with a dramatic twist. Your robe flows around you, and you can't help but smile when you see his eyes following you.

It's the way he swallows visibly, almost audibly, that plants a seed of maybe inside your head. "I'm not usually one to pry."

You place both glasses on the counter. "Neither am I."

"I know. It's why I like ya," Joel says it with eyes on the glasses instead of you. "That and the way you talk to the plants."

Your hand on the corkscrew stops, and you want to slam your forehead against the wood. "Oh, god."

His laughter is so nice. "Nah, don't be embarrassed. 's why I gave you your nickname."

"Don't be embarrassed? That's mortifying, Joel. I thought no one—wait." Had you heard him right? "What d'you mean you gave me my nickname?"

Joel's head tilts, and he's definitely a charmer kind of guy. If you do have a chance, you might be fucked. "Your nickname."

"Miss Sunshine?" He nods. "I thought that was Sarah."

"No, Sarah used it first in front of you," he pulls one of the glasses closer to him. "I said it first."

Well... that made it just as special but in a different way. You pour the wine into both glasses. "Good to know. I was under the impression she was the creative genius in the household—I just. Quick question that I never asked her: Why?"

"'Cause every mornin' before I left for work you're there on that big window," he points at the glass window that's occupies ceiling to floor, the very reason you picked this house, "talking to your plants as if you're the sun itself waking them up. 's cute."

Cute. You hate how he has the ability to make you blush. What is this, fucking high school?

"That makes sense."

Joel wipes his palms on the side of his t-shirt and then looks up at you. "If I go home with the promise of comin' back, will you let me shower?"

Let me. You're thankful your arms are covered because you're unsure of what this man is capable of when he knows the effect he has on somebody.

"I'll let you," you answer.

Joel nods and his smile is so genuine that you wonder why you never tried before.

"'kay," he takes one sip of the wine, hums in approval, and then takes a deep breath. "'m gonna go. I'll be back to interrogate you."

"I'll leave the door open."

"No—Jesus bloody Christ, are you and Sarah mad? Lock the door, Sunshine." You like it so much when he's the one that says it. "I'm serious."

"Alright, jeez," you laugh.

It's less tense than you imagined as he puts his shoes back on and walks out of your door. Joel crosses the street with a little wave in your direction, and all you can think is—what on Earth am I gonna do to him?

When he's back, Joel smells so good it's intoxicating.

It makes your brain melt.

Minty and fresh. That's what his stuff smells like, and you know the idea of that scent's now painted on the walls of your brain.

He does that stupid little dad pose, widening both arms and lifting them up in a display of 'what do you think' before walking in.

It makes you want to push him against the wall, but you do your best at behaving.

For now.

"Brand new man?" you ask.

He points at his glass of wine, untouched since the moment he left. "Will be in a sec."

You wait for him to take a sip before extending him what you held in your hand before he arrived.

Joel eyed the cigarette and, thank fuck, there was none of the annoying judgment sometimes people carried. He stops his movement to sit on the stool and asks, "You smoke in here, or are we goin' outside?"

"There's a table there. Weather's nice. D'you mind?"

Joel grabs his glass, shaking his head. "Not at all, ma'am. Lead the way."

"Ma'am," you echo him, sounding disgusted. He laughs behind you, "Who am I, Mrs. Adler?"

Still laughing, Joel answers, "Nah. Too talkative for that."

You turn around with your mouth hanging open, trying very little to look offended. "I beg your pardon. We never spoke for longer than, what, five minutes?"

Joel shrugs his shoulders. His smile is as intoxicating as his presence. "I hear things."

"You hear things?" you ask, pushing open the door that leads outside.

"I do," he sips his wine, looking to the small terrace where your little table is. "My daughter's a gossiper, little Sunshine. I think y'should know that."

Little Sunshine. Goddamn this man.

"Should I be scared, here? I haven't even told her anything, but I feel like I should be."

"If you didn't tell her anythin', than why would you be?"

"Because!" you laugh, feeling just a little out of your depth with his smoothness. You expected more closeness from Joel. Less teasing, easy banter. "You're talking like someone who knows a lot, that's all."

"And I do," he says, sounding every bit as serious.

You sit down on one of the chairs — your chair, precisely — and watch as Joel walks around a little, taking in the environment. He adds, "Did ya know," pausing for a dramatic effect, he sips again, "that in all of three months, you became one of my daughters' favorite people?"

He pins you under his gaze.

You cross your legs, and watch happily as his gaze drops to the motion.

"Did I?" if you sip at his pace, you'll be throwing yourself on his lap in an embarrassing amount of time.

Joel nods behind his cup, touching one of the many plants that cover your backyard area from floor, to walls, to ceiling. "You did," he smiles, dropping the fake seriousness. "Are you ready to deal with the six months absence? 'Cause from personal experience," he points both hands at his chest, "you try convincing yourself you won't miss her all that much 'cause, y'know, it's "just" a girl, but—fuck," he spits the last word, smiling widening around the fact. "She's so cool to have around. You'll see. Your phone's bill's about to create life."

It grounds you.

The way Joel speaks of Sarah makes you feel comfortable sitting here, and any doubts you had are sucked by the green life around you and returned as oxygen.

Joel talks about anything, no reservations.

In his absence, you doubted whether this could be any different than most times.

Would Joel be like that—like any of those other guys?

He wasn't.

Joel, as much as you hated to admit it, was an exception.

Maybe these things were fated. Simple chemistry. Similar mindsets. Whatever it was—you had it every once in a blue moon.

Your expectations settings were long ago molded to expect the least, and it takes only half a bottle of wine for you to notice the need to rear it in.

He's so damn easy. Joel goes from one topic to another like he's interested. He answers your questions with full interest, sometimes going on tangent stories, and he's the one who keeps the glasses filled.

Attentive, you take note the second time that happens. Before any of the glasses got empty, he served you both.

He compliments your taste in music and sounds genuine about it.

The weird silences you most dreaded never happen—if he's not answering you, Joel asks things. Interesting things, unlike any other neighbor.

"Was it you who decorated your place inside? 'Cause, there are very specific things in there. And you seem like the type to know what you like."

Joel was very attentive.

He asked, "and is this what you like to do with your free time?" pointing at the books you put away when you both arrived, "Drink wine, read, talk to your plants?"

"I still can't believe you've seen me doing that."

He laughed at that. "It's a pretty big window, Sunshine. Jesus Christ—you don't lock the door, you don't know people can see through your gigantic-ass window—I'm genuinely starin' to get worried here."

"Okay, first of all, I do lock my door."

"Do you?"

"'Course. Most days."

"Oh my—"

"—and! Now that I was reminded of my window's size, I'll consider buying drapes. Long, white ones. That'd be cool."

It was easy.

Talking to Joel—sharing a table with him, a glass of wine—so easy.

He never looked uncomfortable. Even if he moved a lot, Joel looked good—so damn good you lost focus every now and then—, but good with himself.

In his skin.

That was intoxicating.

When he does more than just talk and asks things; it's almost too damn easy. Was time supposed to go this way?

The first bottle end, but it's too soon.

You know it. He knows it—plays with it, in fact. Waves the empty bottle after pouring it for you and him in the air very lightly then places it on the floor.

Offering another one is almost a visceral reaction.

You don't have the same finesse he does, or at least, you think not, but if his smiles and closing proximity are anything to go by, he's enjoying himself as much as you are. "I dance around opening these a lot," you say pointing at the empty bottle. Pulling your legs closer to yourself despite the voice of your mother telling you that's a body language sign of insecurity—fuck insecurity. "Don't wanna be the wine lady on top of the plant one. But they're good. I like it."

"I only drink wine when my brother cooks," he offers.

The glass in your hands makes you feel safe enough to land this conversation where you want it. "Really? He cooks a lot?"

"More than me," Joel confesses with a shrug. "He likes to match the wine to the dish and that type o' stuff."

"I was taught how to be picky, but if I'm being honest—" you like the way Joel leans in closer when you pause it. You smile, "it's all just grapes tastin' really, really good." The sound of his damn laugh. This man's gotta have a flaw, you think. "As long as it's wine, I'm happy."

"I think that about a good beer after a day of work."

"We're all just trying to give ourselves little positive reinforcements for playing nice at doing our jobs, huh?"

Joel pauses at that. Lifts his eyebrows, then bursts out laughing. "Oh, wow—"

"Oh god", while it took you a lot of alcohol to get drunk, being open-mouthed about weird things came with the territory of feeling comfortable.

Joel made you comfortable, even if you were mortified at how amused he was.

When he's done laughing, he looks at you. "That's cute. You're the philosophical type."

"Isn't everybody who enjoys wine?"

"I don't know. I enjoy wine and I'm not one to go that far, I think."

"Hmm. Philosophizing can involve different topics. Lenses."

Joel wolf whistles. "Well, I think I'd need a couple more glasses to unlock that side of me."

"Not a problem," you get up, and resist the urge to wink at him. "I'll be back."

Your reflection in the kitchen mirrors is the confirmation of how fucked exactly you are.

It's more than just the color on your cheeks—it's the glassy screen over your eyes, making it shine like...

Well, very few times.

Fuck, you think.

Maybe that's why your palms are sweating.

He's more than you bargained for—Joel's looks were hard to move on from, but this?

Once in Rome...

Fuck it.

It's not as if either one of you was blinded to what a moonlight late-night conversation leads to.

The air outside could be felt.

When you're going back with the opened bottle, another pin drops in your mind.

He has the whole night free.

You don't break the bottle, but it's a close call.

Joel asks you the second you're back, "I have a depressing confession to make—I was tryin' to keep to it to myself, but honestly, it's all I taught about when you left."

You place the bottle in the middle of the table carefully and sit back down with your eyes on him.

He moved his chair closer again.

"Do share," you urge.

Joel looks around the yard—he seems to do it a lot when he's dipping his toes into personal places and says, "This is the first time in a—uh—I don't even know. A while. That I just... sat with another adult. Drank something nice. Talked about more than just—fucking politics, or whatever." Joel's eyes on you make you feel honored. You know he'd say that's a silly thought if you said it out loud. "It's really nice. And—the depressing part comes in now: I'm only here 'cause of my brother."

You tilted your hair. "You're here because... of Tommy?" you tried connecting those dots, but came up short.

Thankfully, Joel was here. With his smile, and his explanation.

"You see, before Sarah's mom and I decided she could spend some months here instead of just a few weekends, I was already... shutting in. His words, not mine," Joel picks up his glass for a sip, and you hang onto every word he says. "So when she came, he took me out one night. That little bar a few blocks from here—y'know Mr. O'Donovan's place?" when you shake your head, he waves a hand, "I'll take you someday—'s the only place around here that's worth a dime."

"I'll take your word for it." I hate bars. You'd go for him. With him.

"I think I know what beer you'd like," it comes off as a whisper, and you have to hide behind your glass again. "I only remember that talk because he made me promise. He's not one to ask for promises."

"What did he make you promise?"

"He was upset 'cause I kept turnin' him down every time he wanted to do his 'meet my friend and you'll be good friends' match-making shit, so he said, 'you promise that the next time someone invites you do somethin' you actually wanna do, you're not gonna turn 'em down? You'll actually fucking go, without makin' excuses to yourself'. And that sounded fair. So I promised."

You take note of the effort he's making.

The subtle 'this isn't just about what's about to happen'.

'I'll take you someday'.

'Next time someone invites you to do somethin' you actually wanna do'.

So more than just neighbors. You nod at that, smiling at him. "He seems like a good brother," you say. "Siblings can be a pain in the ass."

Joel stops his glass on the way to his lip to shake his head at you, "Oh, no no," he takes the sip first, and says, "one doesn't negate the other. He very much is a pain in my ass, trust me."

You laugh. "Older and younger?"

"Younger," he nods. "I had a lil' bit of peace here and there before he was born."

"Can't imagine you'd have it any other way nowadays."

He agrees with you.

When he doesn't, Joel scrunches his nose as he shakes his head.

He does silly faces. You wonder if he's aware of how unfair it is that he gets to look like that. Tender. Charming.

He proves your theory to be right with only half another bottle.

Put two or more adults plus a certain amount of alcohol in a closed environment, and sex will be on the table.

It makes you blush when you think... it could literally be on the table.

Joel pretends he doesn't see you growing hotter. He keeps his eyes on you as you take off the robe instead of looking at your arms. Listens to what you're saying without losing focus.

Only when you're done and asking him something in response that he looks.

It makes your throat dry when he does.

Joel has an unabashed, almost cocky tilt to his mannerisms.

You thought he'd be quieter than he is—more serious.

It's a welcomed contrast.

When sex is laid on the table, it comes because he brought up the joke you made at the beginning of the night about his lack of interest in your life, and decided to ask you things. Where you grew up. If you were always like this.

"Define 'like this'."

"Smart with the calculating glance, and sweet-talking."

"Is that me?"

"Sure is, Sunshine."

None of the questions that people usually ask.

It makes you bite your lip more than you wished—his manly, tall presence gets under your skin in ways that no previous partner managed to. Tucking your hair behind your ear, avoiding leading the conversation to the exact places you liked, giggling—those weren't things you did.

He pulled them from you.

When he does ask you the 'usual' questions, it lacks the malicious curiosity inflating others whenever they did.

Sex is laid on the table because Joel looks you in the eyes with that easiness in his shoulders and asks, "I'm not as private as you, though—all of my neighbors already know Tommy, and Sarah. You, on the other hand... the mysterious crime and horror novelist, who talks to her plants and moved from so, so far. I might not be the prying type, but I was curious about you long before my gremlin set her little claws on you. How come I never see anyone coming in or out of here? You tellin' me not one friend of yours followed you here to god-forsaken Texas?"

Your glass is almost empty, and you focus on the twirling of the red inside it to avert your mind from the way he's sitting. "The point of moving was getting away from them. All of them, as bad as that sounds," you cover your eyes with your free hand, and Joel's hand touches your forearm.

"Hey—it's fine. Don't feel bad. 'm happy you had the privilege of gettin' away. If you wanted to move away from all of it, I'm sure you had your reasons."

Looking between your fingers, you try appraising his face. "Really?"

"Really," he nods.

"Okay." You sit up straight. "And I do have people over, sometimes. You're just always at work."

"Yeah? You made friends already?"

"A few, yeah."

"Where?" he removes his hand from your forearm but drops it to your chair's armrest. The proximity is doing something to you. "I thought you worked from home."

"I do," you agree. "But I do other stuff. I'm not always here with my plants, Joel," you roll your eyes, smiling amusedly.

Joel laughs, "I wouldn't know. If I could work from home and stay with my tools and wood, I would."

"And I believe you," you nodded.

He bites on his smile before asking. "What other stuff d'you do?"

"I joined a book club," you reply, feeling all levels of boring.

From his look, he disagrees. "You got the patience for that?"

"Sure do," you nod again.

He nods, pouting in awe. "Nice," he says. "Are your book club friends givin' you the right impression of Texans?"

"I'm warming up to them," you smile.

Nodding, he asks, "Should I ask now the questions all my neighbors already know the answer to? 'Cause I am curious. Did you know Mr. Adler tried tellin' me what he 'discovered' about you? He tried looking blasé when he said that, but I'm sure he just wanted to gossip about the pretty girl who moved across from him."

"Ew, Joel," you laugh.

His eyes never leave you—you feel it even when you're not looking at him. He's laughing too. "What? It's true."

When you look back up at him, you wonder—when did you two get this close?

"You can ask," you say. "It's not that exciting, the answer. Actually, it's not exciting at all."

"Hmm, I'll be the judge of that," he sips his wine, and leaves the glass on the table. "You already know my backstory, so kill my curiosity now," he pierces with his eyes for a moment, "how on Earth is there no ring on this finger?" he points to your ring finger, then he leans in closer, and you can smell the wine in his breath; you want to kiss it until it's taste is gone, "and how is it that I never see anyone leaving here early in the mornings?"

Well. "No ring 'cause I didn't want one so far," you reply. To him, you give more honesty than anyone else who's asked. "And I have the luxury of living without it. I know many friends of mine who don't—and actually, that was part of..." don't go there. "Nevermind," you shake your head, pinning yourself to here.

"You just didn't want it?" he echos.

You nod, "Never did," there's no reason to lie to him. He smells so good—why would you lie to him? "Most men bore men, Joel."

"Wow," the smile that widens is a little baffled. A little dirty. "Should I be scared?"

At that, you burst out laughing. "Really?" You have no clocks outside, but the starry sky and the deep silence in the houses next to you are a good enough indicator. "It's been... a couple of hours, at least. We're one bottle and a half," you say, looking at your glasses shining on the table, "deep into conversation... and you wonder if you should be scared?"

Joel's still looking at you when you look back. His arm is around your chair, and your back touches it when you lean back against it. "I'll take that as a no."

"You are very far from boring."

"'m happy you think so," he smiles. He lets his eyes drop to your lips, without a care for the two palms of distance that separate your faces. It's meant to be blatant. Obvious. "Just another question..."

Here it comes, you thought. Why no kids? Why so alone? Do you feel lonely?

"Why me?" he asks.

It's nothing more than a breath.

You could ignore it. Give any answer, and close the gap. Instead, you give him honesty. "Honestly? I was so attracted to you, the second I saw you, that I was willing to even hear somethin' stupid coming out of your mouth if I could just—," do it, do it, do it. Seeing his eyes darken from up close is torture. You can feel the pulse of your heartbeat between your legs. "Now, if I were any smart, I'd be wishing for you to be bad at all the rest, because..."

This was amazing already.

Joel laughs, just a single, breathy laugh, and then does something you would never see it coming.

He pushes his chair back with the weight of his hips and drops to his knees.

The gasp you let out is enough to put the most insufferable smile on his face.

"Don't say that," he feigns hurt, as if he wasn't smiling with his eyes and lips. "It might've been a while, but I don't think I lost my touch just yet."

Joel's hands envelop your knees and slowly pull them apart. You feel like an open wire—aware of every breath your body takes and each minimum reaction to him.

You feel the wet pulse inside your panties when he kisses the skin of your inner thigh, right above your knee.

Joel smiles up at you, blinking his eyes.

Damn him, you think. His hands caress their way up your skin, and you wished you were naked already.

He seems like someone to enjoy the torture—when his hands reach the curve of your ass, they stop there, holding onto your waist.

"Have I?" he asks, kissing the other inner leg. You feel a hint of his tongue in the short kiss.

What could you say to that?

"You really haven't."

Feeling the hot breathing of his laughter on your inner thighs was not in your list for tonight.

"Do I get a kiss, then?"

He would never have to ask you twice.

Your legs wrap around his torso when you lean down to meet him for the kiss. Joel seems to love the position—he smiles at first, gripping you by the neck.

He takes his time to look at you before he dives in. A mental check-in. Maybe just admiring, just as you were from the second he kneeled.

His kiss comes from experience. A lot of fucking experience.

If you were weak in the knees before, you seal the notion that you're out of your depth there and then.

Joel kisses like no one's ever kissed you before—like he wants to explore, discover, conquer.

He licks his way inside of you with the first kiss.

His tongue isn't shy; he makes you adjust to his rhythm, to let go and open up, and when you, you're rewarded with it—he pulls up just an inch, just to whisper, "that's it," and then dives back in.

Joel wraps his arm around your shoulder and neck in a possessive manner. It's why he makes it so easy for you let him guide it—he's holding you, and you moan as you melt into him.

He wants to feel your body.

The more you press yourself against him, the more Joel grants you little sighs of his own pleasure.

He never pushes his hips against you. Never presses you towards him.

It makes you want to scream.

When he pulls away, Joel sighs happily. He presses his right thumb over your swollen bottom lip, and nodding, kneels on his heels again.

"Joel..."

Your face remains close to his, gravitating to where he does. He whispers, "Lift your hips up for me, Sunshine," wrapped around a smile.

You do as he says.

His hand takes off your shorts without your eyes ever leaving you, and when the item is on the floor, Joel releases the robe you foregone earlier tonight from your backrest to slide down where you sit.

To not make a mess, it says.

Your face is burning up, but not as much as the rest of you.

"Is this ok?" he asks.

He waits for your nod of approval before pulling you by your knees. "Good," he's strong enough to get you where he wants in one pull. Your hips are nearing the end of the chair and from this angle, Joel gets to look.

He eyes the underwear as if it's personally offending him.

"I like the color," he says. He traces a finger across the baby blue lace and looks up at you. "Suits ya," he says. That's when he hooks a finger on the fabric, pulling it to the side. "I dreamt about this."

That gets to you.

Joel's fingers are thorough—able. He uses his knuckles to spread the lips apart, uncaring about the whines you let out above him, still holding on to the shame of being the only one exposed.

It lasts until he places two knuckles on each side of your clit, stimulating it with back-and-forth movements.

You were right about the torture.

He enjoys it.

Joel waits for your clit to be hard between his fingers before he puts his mouth to it.

You can only cling onto his hair.

I dreamt about this, too.

"Fuck—I dreamt about this too," you confess.

His moan vibrating against the core of your pussy makes you clench.

Joel's only starting.

He takes his time in finding the rhythm you most feel pleasure on your clit. He never bites, never nibbles, and doesn't go softly, like other men.

He eats.

Joel's mouth is stuck to you—the way he laps and slurps and sucks on your hardened nub only makes your volume go from whines and pleas of his name to moans in very little time.

That's when he dips his tongue inside. When he uses it as muscle and proves to you why the idea of oral is so good for men.

Because it's good.

Joel gives no indicator that he wants to stop at any time, and it turns you into something that blossoms.

At some point between him almost making you cum just by sucking on your clit and fucking his tongue in and out of you, your legs made their way to his shoulders, and his hands have secured themselves groping your ass.

He pulls back for air, once.

His fingers enter you instead, two at once.

"So wet already," he says. You only hear it, until, "look at me," he asks.

As if his thick, long fingers dripping into places inside of you weren't enough, you get to look at him.

His face glistening on your back porch is something that burns behind your eyelids the second you see it. You feel incoherent, needy, and exposed in more than one way.

Joel looks like he could eat you like this.

"Joel—please. Please," you're begging, but for what, you're not sure.

"Cum for me first. I'll give you whatever you want later, just," he pumps his fingers inside of you, keeping a steady and strong pace, and then says, "You look so good like this, Jesus fuckin' Christ."

Profanities.

That's what he says before getting his mouth back on you—his tongue sucking and vibrating against your clit.

It's too much. Too fucking much, and, "Joel, Joel—"

He pulls back just to say it, "That's it, doin' so good, Sunshine—" and that's when you lose it. The coaxing. It's so earnest. Sounds so pleased, dipping in honey as if it's him who's feeling this good.

"'m gonna cum Joel, fuck me, just like that—"

"Like this? Hm? Show me. Cum on my mouth."

All it takes is for him to put it back on you. Joel knows how to push himself inside—knows how to explore the hot and tight confines of your cunt, because he coos a first orgasm out of you with the right pace only.

No strength. No speed. Just sucking, and curling right against your spot.

Your vision whites out.

The time you take to come back to yourself, he keeps playing with your pussy and the mess he made in it, seeming as satisfied with the result as you are. Somewhere in white land.

What a little death.

After that, it's more a mess and clashes of teeth and desires than you knew you were even capable of.

He pulls you in for a kiss, and you pull him inside the house.

The idea is to make it to your room, but you never make it past the living room.

When you press him against a wall to finish taking off his clothes, seeing him only in briefs makes gravity pull you in.

Nothing but black briefs.

You have to drop to your knees.

Joel curses under his breath and tries his best at keeping his posture, but you're with a mind entirely clouded by raw need.

To him, you want to do only your best.

You're addicted to the way he mutters, "atta girl," every time you discover something that brings him pleasure. It sounds so fucking dirty.

"That's it. Atta fuckin' girl, god."

With him, you use tricks your friends once told you that are buried in the back of your mind. You hold the part of his cock your mouth can't cover and move it in sync with your lips. You make it wet, make sloppy, make it whatever he leads it to be.

Joel hisses and moans louder when you find the special places hidden—the sensitive skin between his balls that leads up, you lick it from start to finish and are rewarded with a full-body shudder.

He shows you what strong body means.

"Where's your room?" he pulls you by the arms, and you somehow end up jumping on him. Exactly what you wanted.

"I'm not makin' that far," you tell him with a grin.

He has his thumb on your lips again—he seems to like your mouth.

"Didn't think you'd want my bare ass on your couch."

"That is exactly where I want your bare ass right now," you tell him.

He's good at following requests, just as he is at giving them.

Joel sits with you already straddling his lap, and bless his gentleman's heart, he says, "I left my pants outside—wait," he curses under his breath with your hips circling his shaft. Letting it slide between your pussy lips. "Fuckin' hell."

"Fuckin' hell indeed," you sigh. "Wait here."

You run outside for it, only because you're not on the pill. Maybe you'll start taking it. Maybe you shouldn't think that far.

Joel's waiting for you alright—he has his hand at the base of his cock, sitting on your couch like a modern-day Adonis.

A sluttier Adonis. Sexier, too.

"Stop starin' and c'mere," he demands;

And who are you to say no to that?

Joel does you the favor of putting it on as you make yourself comfortable on his lap again, taking all of your out of the way. He looks like he wants to eat you alive piece by piece, and you love it.

"Lemme know if you want me to take over," he tells you.

"Yes, sir," you whisper in a taunting manner.

Joel rests his forehead against yours when you line himself up with you, and it's a reward of your stupid, gigantic-ass window letting in the light from outside that allows you to see the pleasure on his face as you sink around him, burying him to the hilt.

His digits press so hard on your sides they'll brise.

You'll be bruised tomorrow morning.

Fingerprints on your hips, beard burns on your inner legs, palm shapes across your ass.

When you start moving, none of you say a word about how it feels.

It's criminal.

Only curses and your names are allowed in the thin space separating your wet bodies.

The thin layer of sweat makes you two glide on each other, and the drag of him inside of you is almost too good for words.

You're scared of the ones that'd make their way out, anyway.

So you let out what you can. You call for him, and he calls back. Joel slaps your ass, both sides of it, and urges you on to take him as you want it.

"Fuckin' christ, I'm never gonna—fuck—never gonna sleep again."

There it is. Being pussy-drunk makes him loose-lipped.

Your own are aching with how hard you bite on them.

Joel lets the reigns remain on your hands as you stay on top. He lets you ride him painfully slow, and faster, just because it feels good. He lets you climb all the way up only to slam back down, praising you through the fog in your brain.

"Does it feel good, Sunshine? Mm? My cock feels that good for you?"

You're sure it'll all come back to haunt you once your brain can be coherent.

He takes charge when you start begging him, and for what, you're unsure of. It's a mixture of please and his name, which Joel takes as his permission slip.

He flips you onto your back, hooks one of your legs on the middle of his back, and fucks you both into another orgasm.

It should be concerning the way he does it—like he's familiar with your body and your cues. He just follows your pace and moans until you're clawing at his back, and when his name comes out over and over again, he coaxes it again. Coos at you, holding your face in one hand. "You're gonna cum for me, aren't ya? Do it. I'll cum for you when I feel you shakin' around my cock, Sunshine. Cum for me."

It comes so hard you almost faint; blackout.

Joel takes care of you afterward.

Of course he does.

Even with the weakest legs and the minimum sense of reality around you, he manages. Joel leads you upstairs, tells you he's collected your clothes, and even lays down when you ask him.

"Just for a while," you ask.

He lays in front of you in bed, and pulls your arms around him. "I'm puttin' an alarm."

Little spoon. "You gotta be back here in the morning anyway."

"I know," he kisses your wrist. "Can't wait."

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