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“Two of a Kind”

a parent trap inspired au

Summary: You and James Potter were once intertwined, hearts beating for each other, but due to unforeseen circumstances, you decided to break up, taking Harold with you and Harry with him.

Pairings: James Potter x reader

Series Masterlist

chapter i

chapter ii

chapter iii

chapter iv

Flirting with Disaster pt. 2

Paring: TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Summary: You make your way over to Peter's apartment and an onslaught of memories hits you again. What starts as playful banter turns into a charged moment; it leaves you questioning if the chemistry between you two was always one-sided or if you were delusional and seeing things that couldn't be possible.

Word Count: Roughly 2.4k 

Warnings: Fluff, teasing, light sexual tension, playful banter, suggestive and mild language, power dynamics, mentions of past embarrassing childhood memories

Author's Note: There's like one (or maybe more) grammar error that I can't seem to find ://

And I'm sorry for the delay on this one <3

Part 1

Navigation

Divider by @strangergraphics

Thirty minutes later, you stood in front of Peter’s apartment door. 

You purposely tried to make yourself late. You walked instead of driving, stopped at the deli to get juice, and helped an elderly lady cross the street. 

You did every single thing fucking imaginable.

You hesitated, fist hovering just inches from the door. You contemplated running back home or throwing yourself down some stairs so you had a legitimate excuse for missing your date and not having to see Peter. 

But before you could talk yourself out of it, the door swung open with a creak, and there he was.

Peter Parker.

He was leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, wearing a smirk that could only mean one thing: he was about to have way too much fun with you. He was looking at you like he’d just caught his favorite target.

Well, he had.

And he had been doing that since you were kids, so what was one more round? But you'd prefer several rounds.

You glanced up at him before looking away.

Peter had changed. 

He was still Peter, but the years had definitely worked in his favor. His shoulders were broader, his jawline sharper, and those reading glasses, those glasses, gave him this nerdy charm that reminded you of when he was younger. But that somehow made you want to both roll your eyes and blush at the same time. And don’t even get started on the muscles. His biceps were practically screaming to be noticed under his T-shirt.

You had to resist the urge to salivate. 

It took you a second to pull your thoughts together. 

You hadn’t seen him since high school graduation, five years ago, but who was counting? You were.

“Well, well, well,” Peter drawled, his voice smooth as honey and laced with that signature mischievous tone. “Look who finally decided to show up.” He gave you a once-over, eyes lingering just long enough to remind you why you used to dread him. “I was starting to think you were too chicken to face the music, peach.”

Peach. Of course, he had to use that. 

Your face instantly flared with heat, and the flood of mortifying memories hit you like a tidal wave. The peach nickname came from that god-awful summer barbecue when you bit into a juicy peach, only to choke on it and turn into a red-faced mess in front of everyone, including Peter.

You could almost hear his smug chuckle from all the way back then.

You forced yourself to stand tall. 

“I didn’t exactly have much of a choice,” you shot back, but even to your ears, your voice cracked a little. Damn it. “Not like I could’ve canceled now.”

Peter’s grin deepened, almost impossibly wide. “Yeah, you’re pretty much stuck with me.” He took a slow step forward, eyes glinting with something far too playful. “Like that time you tried to impress me by climbing that tree. You remember? Arms scratched up, hair all over the place, and then that pout you had when you couldn’t get down? Classic move.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Are you seriously bringing that up again?”

Peter shrugged, unrepentant. “What can I say? It’s a core memory from your childhood.” Peter leaned closer. “Your mom sent me a picture, you know. Framed it. Right next to my bed.”

You blinked rapidly as your face turned completely red. “You’re an ass,” you muttered.

“You love it.” His smirk never faded.

Your retort caught in your throat when his hand curled around yours. “Come on,” he said, his tone softer now, almost coaxing. “This is supposed to be fun.”

Before you could protest, not that you wanted to, he'd tugged you into his apartment, closing the door behind you with a soft woosh and a click of the lock.

You took a quick glimpse around his apartment. It was cozy and very much Peter, an organized chaos in the way only he could pull off. Books, tools, gadgets, and half-finished projects are across the floor like a mad scientist’s lair. And then there was the smell: it was him. A blend of cologne, something faintly smoky and sweet, and something warm and earthy that made your pulse skip a little. It was almost unfair how well it suited him.

When he turned to face you, he hadn't let go of your hand. His thumb rubbed slow circles on the back of your hand, his touch warm and inviting.

“Hello, peaches,” he murmured, his voice a teasing caress.

“Hi, Peter,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper as you avoided his gaze.

He chuckled, the sound wrapping around you like a warm hug, as he lifted your hand and pressed a slow kiss to your knuckles. The rasp of his stubble against your skin sent a shiver down your spine. “Don’t be shy. It’s just us.”

Your cheeks flushed as you huffed and pulled your hand back, ignoring the way his lips curved into another smirk. “This is torture,” you grumbled.

“Sweetest kind,” he shot back, leaning against the counter like he had all the time in the world. “So, who’s the guy? The one you’re trying to impress?”

You fidgeted under his gaze. “Just…someone I met through friends.”

“Ah, the mysterious friend’s friend,” he mused, his tone laced with amusement. “All right, let’s start with the basics. Confidence. You need to feel comfortable in your own skin.” He tilted his head, eyes gleaming. “But you’re still shy, aren’t you? Just like when we first met.”

You groaned. “Don’t start.”

“Oh, I’m starting,” Peter said, clearly enjoying himself. “You know, I still remember the first time we met,” Peter added playfully. “You were so shy and quiet, hiding behind your brother's leg. And I was your brother's best friend, who decided to befriend the sweet little girl too.”

“No, asshole. You roll your eyes. “You decided that you would make fun of me from that day forward.”

Peter shrugged, his grin unrepentant. “I was just poking fun. You always blushed so easily. But I never did it in a mean way. Well, not too mean,” he amended with a chuckle.

“We teased each other, remember? That was our thing,” he said, tapping the tip of your nose with his finger.

“No, it wasn't.” You grumble.

“Was too,” he teased, eyes sparkling with amusement. “You'd challenge me to a video game, get all pouty when you lost, and I'd tease you for it.”

He paused, watching you closely. “Come on, peach. You loved it as much as I did. All our inside jokes, the nicknames, the way we teased each other…”

His voice dropped. "And now, he said, his gaze dropping to your lips, making the heat in your cheeks flare, “I get to teach you how to flirt.”

You roll your eyes.

Peter was way too close, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him. You quickly took a step back, but it didn’t help much. Peter smirked, eyes narrowing just enough to let you know that he could read you like an open book.

The sincerity in his tone made your breath hitch, but before you could respond, his teasing grin returned. “Now,” he said, straightening up, “let’s see if I can teach you how to stop blushing every time I say your name. What do you think, baby?”

Your stomach flipped at the nickname, but you rolled your eyes, refusing to let him win this round. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re adorable,” he shot back, grinning as you sputtered.

“Fuck you,” you muttered. 

“Still got that attitude, huh?” he teased, his voice a little quieter now, almost like a challenge. “Hard to believe you’ve grown up. Wasn’t it just six years ago when you told me to ‘fall in a ditch and die’?”

You blinked, the blush creeping up your neck again. “Shut up, Parker,” you muttered, your arms instinctively crossing over your chest. “You and my brother basically stalked me on my first date. I was a disaster. You guys made me cry.”

Peter chuckled that deep, rumbling sound that made your insides do something weird. “Oh, come on. It was hilarious! You were so flustered, like a deer in headlights. You couldn’t even speak! And then your face-” He paused, dramatically pouting. “I mean, seriously. Who else trips and falls into a pile of mud on their first date?”

You wished for the ground to swallow you whole. “You guys were awful.”

"Awful?" Peter echoed. "I wouldn't have had to do that if you hadn't snuck out without telling anyone."

Peter shrugged, but there was that familiar gleam in his eyes. “But, I did pay for your dry cleaning and bought you ice cream, so I don't have remorse.”

He leaned a little closer, almost like he was enjoying this more than he should be.

“I was just looking out for you, baby. You know that.”

Baby. That damn nickname. You tried to stay mad at him, but he knew exactly how to melt that armor. 

You buried your face in your hands. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” Peter’s voice softened, and when you peeked through your fingers, he was closer, his expression more serious now. “I was just looking out for you. Always have.”

Peter’s smirk deepened as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his entire presence screaming arrogance and charm. 

"Yeah, well, you didn’t exactly make me feel protected when you were laughing at me," you shot back, trying to regain some ground. Your voice wavered, though, betraying your confidence.

His cocky demeanor softened slightly, just enough to throw you off. “That guy you were with? He was a total creep. And you? You’re too sweet to be rude. But me?” He pushed off the wall, stepping closer, his voice dropping low enough to send a shiver down your spine. “I’m going to beat someone’s ass if they deserve it.”

You froze as his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze almost too much. Then, his smirk returned, softer now, but no less disarming. “And you…” His voice was practically a murmur now. “You’re my favorite little peach, and peaches? They need protection, don’t they?”

Your cheeks burned. You crossed your arms, a weak attempt at a barrier between you and the way he made your pulse race. “Yeah, well, I’m grown now. A big girl. I can take care of myself,” you retorted quickly, too quickly.

Peter’s eyebrow arched, his expression smug as if daring you to believe your own words. “Oh, is that right?” He tilted his head, eyes sweeping over you, lingering just enough to make you squirm. “Then why are your arms crossed like you’re holding yourself together?”

Peter raised an eyebrow in a silent challenge. You could feel his eyes on you, the way they looked at you like you were something worth being seen. 

It was intoxicating. It was terrifying. 

Your breath hitched. He was too observant, too good at peeling back your defenses with a single question. “I’m fine,” you insisted, but your voice lacked conviction.

Peter took a slow step forward, closing the distance between you. His scent hit you first: spicy, earthy, and undeniably him. It was a heady mix, and you found yourself shifting closer to him.

 “Tell you what,” he said, his voice smooth and warm, dripping with challenge. “Why don’t you show me how a big girl flirts? Think of it as a trial run before your date.”

“I-I…” You faltered, your mind scrambling for words as he moved closer, the heat of his body radiating against yours.

“What’s the matter?” he teased, his lips twitching into a smirk that made your knees weak. “I thought you were a big girl now.”

You swallowed hard, the heat in your stomach pooling as his words wrapped around you like a velvet rope. He was too close, close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath near your ear.

“C'mon,” he coaxed, his voice a whisper near your ear, and you shivered despite yourself. “A big girl knows how to flirt.”

You could feel his breath tickle your neck, his hand resting on your waist like he always did when he was teasing you. And for a brief moment, you were that awkward teenager again, and he was the older boy next door with all the arrogance and charm.

“It's just you and me here, peach.” His voice was low, his thumb drawing idle circles on your hip, making it damn near impossible to think straight. “Show me what you've got.”

“Fine,” you said, trying to maintain some semblance of cool, giving him what he wanted to hear. “I can't flirt to save my life. Show me how to.”

Peter’s smirk widened, his eyes lighting up like he’d just won a game you didn’t realize you were playing. “That much I already knew,” he murmured, his hand moving to your waist with an ease that made your pulse stutter. He pulled you closer, your bodies mere inches apart.

His thumb began trailing under your shirt, tracing lazy circles on your hip, and your breath caught. The deliberate touch sent a delicious thrill through you, making it impossible to focus. You tilted your face up to meet his gaze, catching the flicker of victory in his eyes. He knew what he was doing to you. He knew, and he was reveling in it.

“What’s wrong, peach?” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Cat got your tongue?”

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, but even you could hear the waver in your tone.

“And yet,” Peter replied, his smirk softening into something more dangerous. “You’re still here. Inches away from me. Looking at me like you’re waiting for something.”

Your heart hammered in your chest. He wasn’t wrong, but you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction. You straightened your shoulders, trying to regain control. “I didn’t come here for your games, Peter,” you said, though your voice trembled slightly. “I came here because you owe me for all the humiliations you’ve put me through over the years.”

Peter chuckled, the sound low and rich, sending another shiver through you. “You’re right,” he said, stepping even closer until there was barely any space left between you. “I do owe you.”

His eyes dipped to your lips, and your breath hitched. “And don’t worry,” he murmured, his tone full of promise. “I’ve got plenty of ways to make it up to you.”

Your heart stuttered as the air between you grew thick, heavy with tension and something you weren’t sure you were ready for. You tried to speak, to push back, but the words caught in your throat.

What the hell had you gotten yourself into?

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

Tags: @princess-lil-spidey @laaundromat @mgchaser @sparklystarsandstrawberries @bethies-world @rnurse-kole @juliebluehufflepuff @ficcharsimp

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Much love x

- Maeve

Aww, my little boys !! <3

This halloween is just going to be a worldwide event of people walking around in adorable outfits saying “Hi Barbie!” to each other. What a time to be alive.

hello !!! can i request a right person, wrong time with siri? maybe they broke up because of the war... and the reason is because siri doesn't want to put the reader into danger and then they meet again, all grown up and they still have feelings for each other and Siri has to grovel to win reader back again? And it ends with a happy ending (please) (Siri was the one who broke the relationship and reader was really hurt) it's very long yet vauge 😅

A CALL TO ARMS — S.BLACK

sirius black was the love of your life, and you were his. but sometimes higher priorities—and deep-seeded anxiety—can get in the way. but the invisible string of fate always brings people back together.

cw — fem!reader, details of the first wizard of war, reader and sirius have a messy and complicated relationship, harsh arguments, character death mentions, happy ending

sirius black x reader || hurt/comfort || 6.2k || requests open!!

a/n — let’s just pretend sirius doesn’t get avada’d like three weeks after this fic ends

The war put a strain on everybody. Some people had to leave their families to join the fight, some had to hide away to protect themselves from the Death Eaters.

Some didn’t have a family, anyone to worry about them coming home at the end of the day.

They threw themselves into it the hardest.

Then there was you and Sirius, a pair of outcasts who found solitude in each other. A pair who paid no greater devotion than protecting the people that you cared about from the ravages of Voldemort’s uprising.

You were barely eighteen when you both joined the Order, fresh out of Hogwarts and straight into the line of fire after the group had been offered a spot in Voldemort’s army and refused, leaving every one of you with a target on your back.

By the time you were twenty it almost seemed fruitless, with James and Lily being sent into hiding to protect them and their son under Dumbledore’s direct orders under fear for their continued safety and a Fidelius Charm placed over them to keep them safe. Sirius denied being their secret keeper with the explanation of it being too obvious a choice. What a mistake that was.

Then order members started dying.

And it all began to fall apart.

The brass framed picture in the entrance of the Black family home offered Sirius no empathy as he escaped the bitterness that October was serving him, the laughing faces of his friends and self-proclaimed family only serving to make his already dwindling morale dampen further.

Twenty-two people in the picture. And how many remained? Fourteen. In the span of five months.

It was Dorcus and Marlene that really did him over, and he could barely so much as glance in the direction of their hopeful smiles without feeling like he was going to throw up.

The trudging of his feet up the wooden stairs was proof enough of his arrival for any present members of the Order to hear, too fatigued and all together bleak at the continued state he was living in to announce his presence verbally.

“Sirius, sweetheart, you’re home thank goodness,” Not even the warmth of your arms around him or the relief in your voice as you pulled his head into your shoulder could satiate him anymore.

You shouldn’t have to be relieved that he walked through the door.

You shouldn’t have to hug him like it’s your final goodbye every time he leaves.

Every time you leave.

You didn’t deserve that. And neither did he.

“Godric you’re freezing, come and sit down,” You pull Sirius into his childhood bedroom with all of the care of a feather floating on a pool of water, squeezing his hands in yours like you’re trying to transfer your own heat to him.

He follows you with no real resistance, though he doesn’t make any move by himself, and you have to push his shoulders down to get him to sit in front of the lit fireplace that would hopefully quell the chill echoing across his skin.

You help him remove his coat with a sigh, dark frown lines marking your features as you take a seat beside him and rest the side of your head against his shoulder, your hand gently tracing over his to capture his palm in your own. He doesn’t return the small squeeze of your fingers.

You can’t blame him for being so dismal, the situation was something that nobody could make it through without a gargantuan crack in their emotional shield, but seeing Sirius display his almost funereal sentiment so fervently without so much as a hint of a mask was devastating.

Displaying even the tiniest glimmer of hopefulness was what allowed the Order to survive for so long, and Sirius couldn’t even muster that.

“Harry said his first word today,” You try to keep the conversation positive, ignore the downfall of everything around you and keep focusing on the small wins. “Dada of course, apparently Lily was pretty miffed,” You punctuate your sentence with a small laugh, although it’s more pathetic than genuine and even you can tell you’re doing a horrible job of trying to uplift Sirius’ spirit.

“They sent over a picture, Remus has it if you’d like to see—”

“Just stop.” Sirius shakes his head sharply, pulling his hand from yours and standing with his back to you.

“Sirius—”

“I don’t know why you keep trying to pretend that everything’s okay, it’s not. Our friends are dying and you’re acting like its completely fine.” There’s more malice in his voice than he’s intending, and logically you know that he doesn’t really mean to get so angry at you. It wasn’t you that was the problem, it was the world in which you were living.

But logic can often times get overridden by other facets.

“I am trying to stop anyone else from dying.” Your words are more desperate than harsh, and they’re not laced in anger like Sirius’ are, but they carry just the same amount of conviction. “If we lose hope then we may as well just hand ourselves over…”

There’s a stuttered exhale as you trail off, and Sirius swears he hears your voice crack as you try to take his hand in yours again. “I can’t bear to see you like this…”

“You should leave the Order.”

You’re almost not sure you heard him.

“What?”

“You don’t belong here, you’re not fit for this,” He sounds almost resigned, and his shoulders drop just enough that you’re not sure he really believes what he’s saying. “You should leave before you get hurt.”

There’s a moment where all you can really do is let out a breath of astonishment, and then there’s an overwhelming need to defend yourself against Sirius’ accusation. “I am perfectly fit for this, Dumbledore agreed that—”

“Well I don’t agree with it!” He cuts you off harshly, turning around so that you can see the anguish that’s drenching his features. “People are dying, our friends are dying, and you are on the goddamn list of whose next.”

He takes your upper arms in his hand and shakes you like it’s going to make you see his point, practically shouting at you as he desperately tries to get you to see his point of view. “You are a brilliant witch, and you are in so much danger that it makes me want to rip my heart out so I don’t have to worry about you any more—”

His rant doesn’t stop once his hands halt, and they stay gripped uncomfortably tight around your biceps to the point where you’re sure it’ll bruise. “Dorcus died because she was brilliant, Marlene died because her father was a muggle, you are like the two of them wrapped up in a package practically serving yourself up to the Death Eaters every time you step out of this goddamn house and I cannot take it anymore.”

Sirius practically pants as his yelling comes to a halt, and he almost immediately regrets getting riled up as he sees the reflection of the fireplace in your glassed over eyes.

“I love you. I love you so much and I can’t live like this anymore.” His hands move from your arms to cup the sides of your face, and you flinch at the contact like you’re afraid he’s going to hurt you.

It breaks Sirius’ heart.

“The Order is falling apart love… I don’t want you to be here when it collapses,”

You pull his hands from your face with yours at his wrists, shaking your head as you blink through clouds of tears. “I’m not leaving the Order, Sirius. You really think I would abandon my friends like that? My family? You?”

“Then I’ll make one of the hard choices for you,” Sirius lets his hands fall to his sides on your prompting, taking a step back from you to hide them in the pockets of his jeans. “I’m breaking up with you.”

“What—” There’s nothing but absolute betrayal written across your face, and Sirius almost breaks down immediately. “Sirius—”

“If you want to stay here and watch shit hit the fan then be my guest, but I will not put myself through watching your downfall.” He doesn’t give you the courtesy of replying before opening and slamming the door behind him as he leaves, but you’re not sure you’d be able to articulate anything even if he did, your only response being the start of a sob that echoes off of the empty walls and back into your ears to amplify your own anguish.

You move your belongings out of his room that same evening, taking refuge under Remus’ open arms as you cried yourself into an uneasy slumber, so emotionally exhausted that you could barely formulate any sense of coherency.

Lily and James died two days later.

The news hit you like a truck when Dumbledore relayed it to you, and whilst most of the Order were left in a blanket of shock, Sirius took off in a rage before he could even finish his sentence.

It was enough for you to push the grief aside to not cost you any more.

“Sirius wait—” You weave your way through the others and past Dumbledore to rush after him, the first words either of you had spoken in the other’s direction since the argument. “Where on earth do you think you’re going the Death Eaters might still be there—”

“I hope they are.” Sirius’ tone drips with venom as he pulls his motorcycle helmet from the coat rack at the front door, and you just barely catch his wrist before he has the chance to leave.

“You’re going on a suicide mission—”

“They murdered my brother, I have nothing to lose.” He again leaves the conversation with a slammed door, and you don’t know whether the possibility of his death or the fact that he’d seemingly accepted it hurt you more.

He had nothing to lose.

It was the biggest insult he could’ve possibly left you with.

And it’s all he did leave you with.

For twelve years.

You grieved the loss of Sirius like you did James and Lily, like he too had entered into an early grave of which he would never return. Azkaban may as well have been.

You were angry at first, disgustingly loathing the thought of what those twelve poor muggles had to endure as their final moments. You were less empathetic towards Peter’s fate, although your grief for him was replaced with a deep-seeded betrayal that sunk into your muscles all the same.

Then it settled into an uneven weight in the bottom of your chest, something that you carried with you from that point onward.

You moved out of England soon after, with nothing but a silent vow to Remus that if Voldemort were to ever return, that you’d be there, a final standing against the allegiance that stole your life from you.

You couldn’t stay there anymore, every street of London reminded you of him, of them, of all the people that you lost and how the prime years of your young adulthood were unceremoniously ripped from you under the false belief that you could actually make a difference.

As weeks turned into months, and then into years, there were days that passed where you didn’t think of what happened, of how your previous life had fallen apart and left you as a shell of yourself, and eventually, you managed to pick up the pieces and live your life like it hadn’t happened.

Apart from a single shard of your heart that had lodged itself at 12 Grimmauld Place, underneath the black silk sheets you and Sirius once shared.

You were thirty three when a letter from R.J.Lupin was sent through the letterbox of your house, and it was like those twelve years of growth and acceptance disappeared in an instant.

—

‘I hope this letter finds you well, I know I promised to contact you only for something of the upmost urgence regarding the resurgence of you know who, but I believe this is appropriately important.

Wormtail is alive. He was the one who caused those muggles to die without reason. Which leaves no question of Padfoot’s innocence.

I don’t know if you have kept up with the wizarding news, but he escaped from Azkaban, and is in a safe and secure location known only by the Order.

I understand if this news is too much for you to digest, but he has asked me personally for your consideration in returning to the place where everything began.

Yours sincerely,

R.J.Lupin’

—

The aftermath of your reading was a mess of shallow breaths and an elevated heart rate.

Panic.

You hadn’t felt so horrible since the day that James and Lily had died, the day one of your closest friends betrayed you and the love of your life was taken away presumably to never be seen again.

And now he was just out there? You were just adjusting to living without him, and now he was being thrust back into your life by his own doing.

He threw you away right before your house of cards toppled, and now he was trying to worm his way back into your life?

It took you almost three weeks of staring at the sheet of parchment before you made a decision, and it ended with the letter going up in flames and you watching on with a sunken expression, no tears left to cry over the man who’d ruined you.

All of those months where you’d pondered, where you’d asked yourself over and over again what might’ve happened if you’d have just not spoken to Sirius that day, if you’d just let him rest like he’d obviously wanted rather than try pathetically to lift his mood.

If it might’ve meant he would regard you as something to live for and stop him from blindly running off to avenge James and Lily without a second thought.

All of it went straight down the drain. Because you could have him back if you wanted. But you didn’t. You didn’t want to go back and see him again because the minute his name invaded your mind all you could think about was that god awful argument and it’s aftermath.

And it ripped you apart every single time.

—

“She’s not coming Pads…” Remus’ hand on Sirius’ shoulder was almost apprehensive as he gave it a soft squeeze.

It was almost three months of having to watch Sirius treat the front door like it was his lifeline, his head turning at the smallest creak of the wood in the fruitless hope that when it opened you would be on the other side.

“I know…” Sirius lets out a small, pathetic laugh as he rakes his fingers through his hair, his facade of indifference threatening to break with every breath he took. “Can’t blame me for trying though right?” His voice betrays his devastation, tone wavering and quiet, cracking when he tries to push it to sound more convicting.

“Pads…”

“I’m fine,” Sirius shakes his head with a dismissive hand, clearing his throat and blinking away the starts of tears from the corners of his eyes. “I’m gonna go get some sleep, gonna need all I can get if we’re gonna fight these sons of bitches hey?” Sirius nudges Remus with his elbow as he plays a characature of his former self, although it’s poorly executed at best.

“Yeah…” Remus consciously suppresses a sympathetic sigh that tries to escape his mouth, pressing his lips together. “Goodnight Pads,”

“G’night Moony,”

—

There’s eighteen months of radio silence before another letter is slotted through your door, and you have half the mind to burn it on sight when the familiar red seal is left face up on your patio tiling, but the handwriting on the back wasn’t Remus’, and it was definitely not Sirius’ either.

The scrawl of your address was almost unmistakably Dumbledore’s, and you were left in an emotional state of uneven limbo as you debated why he of all people would be personally sending you a letter.

Logically, you already knew the reason, but your brain chose to ignore that logic as you ripped the envelope open, only for that denial to be thrown right back at your face once the seal of the Order inked itself into the folded parchment.

You didn’t even need to read the letter to know what was inside it.

Three words.

Invitatio ad arma.

A call to arms.

You barely remember packing your bags, leaving the sense of normalcy you’d built over the past fourteen years to throw yourself back into the line of fire and more devastatingly, right back to Sirius Black.

The train ride to England almost felt like a fever dream, your body left in a state of dissociation where you couldn’t discern whether your actions were real or just a part of some vivid nightmare that you couldn’t wake from no matter how much you tossed and turned.

And by the time you reached the front door of number 12 Grimmauld Place it felt like you were right back where you started, just barely twenty one thrust into a war that could leave you in your grave at any unfortunate minute.

It felt almost foreign to you as you entered, the hallways that once proved to be your substitute home reduced to unfamiliar sights covered in dust and peeling wallpaper. There was no brass lamps to warm the sight, no picture of your closest friends on the wall, not even the mirror that had been hung beside the door had survived, reduced to a half shattered mess that hadn’t been replaced under higher priorities.

“Oh—” The slightly surprised sentiment draws you away from your almost depressing nostalgia, drawn instead towards an almost perfect capture of teenage James Potter, down to the slanted circular glasses sat over his nose bridge.

It’s enough for you to genuinely consider for a second that you’d actually stepped back in time, right into your graduation year when you were all so young and full of hope.

But it couldn’t be James. As much as your heart desperately wished it was.

“You’re another member of the original Order of the Phoenix right?” The boy takes a few steps towards you, wonder still lingering in his eyes despite the film of knowledge that cloud them. Knowledge of just how unfortunately dark the world actually is. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m—”

”Harry…” Your interruption is barely more than a breath of air as you take in the sight of one of your closest friend’s child, a child that he never got to see grow into an almost perfect replica of himself. “You look just like your father…”

There’s a mix of shock and a small amount of sadness in his expression at your statement, and it’s enough for the glimpses of Lily to shine through in his demeanour. “Thank you,”

It’s enough for your eyes to well with tears, and you blink them away with a small clearing of your throat to regain your composure in front of the boy. He didn’t need to see you cry over the fact that he looked like one of your dead friends with the personality of another. That wasn’t fair.

“It’s nice to finally meet you Harry, properly,” You extend your hand almost hesitantly as you introduce yourself, and he takes it graciously in his own with a small sympathetic smile. Being proxy comforted by a teenager, how pathetic.

“It’s nice to meet you too, my parents have good friends,” You give the boy a small nod with a small, sad smile, and he mirrors it himself in turn.

“I’m so sorry, you didn’t deserve any of this,” You let your hand rest on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly in a terrible attempt at consoling the sadness riddling his expression. “You’re just a boy Harry,”

“I know,” He gives a small sigh and a more confident smile, sympathy lingering in the creases of his cheeks in a perfectly Lily fashion. “I’m sorry for your loss too, I know they probably meant a great deal to you,”

“They still do, that’s why I’m here,”

“Thank you,” He sounds more confident in his thanks this time, more determined, and the remnants of his parents continue to show on full display as his focus returns to the reason you’d arrived here in the first place. “We’re about to sit down for dinner, join us?”

“I’ll be there shortly,” You give Harry a small nod and another small squeeze of his shoulder before excusing yourself up the stairs to leave your belongings.

—

“Good evening everyone,” Your voice is taught and awkwardly flat as you push open the door to the dining room, and you stand there with your hands wrung together behind your back as your eyes flicker over the room.

There are so many people that the table is almost entirely too crowded, and a mix of familiar and unfamiliar faces in your presence, although those who do recognise you leave their seats almost immediately to greet you properly.

“It’s good to see you,” Remus reaches you first, wrapping you in a secure hug that you happily return with your own.

“It’s good to see you too, Remus, it’s been too long,”

“Welcome back, we need all of the human shields we can get,” Mad Eye’s reuinionative statement is much less heart felt, but you give him a small laugh and a “Thank you,” nonetheless.

Then there was Sirius. Stood at his chair, not daring to walk into your little bubble under fear of whatever consequences that might come from it.

He looked almost as you remembered him, but he was leaner, more gaunt, his hair more unruly and his skin even more paper-white than the almost impossibly pale complexion of his teenage years.

He was still Sirius, but he was different, and it took less than half a second of eye contact for him to realise that you were different too.

“Welcome back,” His voice is hesitant, almost catching in his throat as his brain catches up to the fact that you’re stood in front of him, less than ten feet away after all of those years he’d spent desperately dreaming of what it would feel like to have you in his arms again.

Now you were here. And you were a stranger.

“Thank you,”

Dinner progresses pretty much how you expected, a mix of awkwardly introducing yourself to the Order’s new members and horrifically failing at avoiding eye contact with Sirius from across the table.

Then the topic of interest moves to the Order’s plans, and things seem to spin into a downwards spiral all too quickly.

“We don’t have enough members to reliably be able to pull this off,” The argument was entirely valid from a logical standpoint, a weakness that quite a few of the Order seemed to have choice opinions about.

“Yeah well we’re not getting any new members are we?” Sirius leans back in his chair exasperatedly. “With the way Fudge is portraying Dumbledore and the lack of official credibility, we’re on our own here, there’s no use in waiting around,”

“I’m inclined to agree, we all know you know who isn’t going to waste any time,

“It’s reckless,” You shake your head with furrowed eyebrows. “We not ready to face something like that head on.”

“We’re never going to be ready,” Sirius shakes his head with a sigh. “We have to take action before he has the chance to build himself back to where he was all those years ago.”

“Sirius is right, we need to do something,” Sirius gestures towards Harry’s response like it’s the final nail in the coffin against your reasoning.

“Harry, sweetheart, I appreciate your enthusiasm but you don’t know the extent of what we’re dealing with,” Your voice is as gentle as it is assertive, not wanting to put him down too much but also wanting to make sure he understood the true extent of what was going on.

“He killed my friend in front of me—”

“And he’s killed dozens of ours,” You shake your head softly but firmly. “Jumping in without a plan is only going to make things worse, trust me.”

He seems more than a little shot down, but he gives you a small nod of understanding nonetheless as he backs down from his standing.

Sirius doesn’t pay you the same mind.

“So you’re suggesting we just wait in hiding for what, forever? We need to act,”

“The last time you ‘acted’, Sirius, you spent twelve years in Azkaban for it.” Your rebuttal holds none of the softness that was present when you were talking to Harry, and you can see it eroding the calcified shield behind Sirius’s eyes.

“That wasn’t my fault,” Sirius presses his teeth together to keep himself from raising his voice, his back straightening alongside his defensiveness. “At least I’m trying to do something, if you don’t want to contribute maybe you shouldn’t be a part of the Order at all,”

“I will not have this argument with you again Sirius!” His chastation seems to finally get under your skin as you rise yourself from your chair with your hands on the dining table, ignorantly ignoring the uncomfortable gazes of everyone else present as you’re forced back into that evening fourteen years go all over again.

“Okay, I think it’s time we called it a night,” Remus, seemingly the only normally functioning person at the table, rises from his chair slowly, taking your shoulders in his hands to guide you away from the group and calm you down.

“Yes right you are Remus,” Molly stands up with a nod that’s almost too enthusiastic clasping her hands together. “Off to bed, all of you,”

You can practically hear the lingering exasperation in Remus’ breathing as he leads you up the stairs and into the room he was staying in, and the second he shut the door behind you you knew what you were in for.

“You need to speak to him.”

“I know,”

“Properly.”

“I know,”

You’re sure the sigh you let out echoes across the house’s first floor, and it’s enough for Remus’ eyes to shift into displaying a concerning amount of sympathy in your direction.

“He misses you, you know,” Remus takes a seat on the edge of his bed with a soft sigh. “He said the thought of seeing you again was the only thing that got him through Azkaban,”

“Yeah well he wouldn’t’ve gone there in the first place if he hadn’t’ve been such a hot-headed twat,” You wouldn’t lie that Remus’ statement didn’t hit you a little where it hurt, but the lingering anger towards Sirius’ situation was clearly still more forefront in your mind.

“It’s a carried trait in all of us ’m‘fraid,” Remus tilts his head knowingly, and you have half the mind to roll your eyes at the clear implication of what he’s saying.

But he isn’t wrong, not really.

“You know where to find him,”

There’s a small moment of silence, then a sigh. “Do I have to?”

“The longer you wait the worse it’ll be,”

Sometimes you hate how logical Remus can be.

With another sigh and a loll of your head, you reluctantly stuff your hands in your pockets and turn towards the bedroom door, muttering a soft—and only half genuine—“thanks,” in his direction as you leave.

The wooden door that barricaded you from the former love of your life felt more like steel than anything else. Tall, dark, and intimidating to the point where you couldn’t even consciously lift your hand to knock against it under the blood rushing behind your ears from how fast your heart was pounding in your ribcage.

It really shouldn’t be so scary, you’d spent weeks, months in that room when you’d originally joined the Order, yet now it felt entirely foreign to you.

Maybe it was the fact that the wood was slowly rotting away with how unkept it was. Maybe it was the knowledge of what—who—was on the other side of it. Or maybe, your mind was just so completely and utterly fucked that the idea of confronting the consequences of your own actions was more nerve-wracking than the idea of standing face to face in a death match with Voldemort himself.

You stand there staring dumbly at the door for almost two minutes, and when it opens your eyes widen like it’s a new form of magic that you’d never encountered.

Sirius halts halfway out the door, arm stretched straight with the doorknob still in hand as his face seems to go through an insurmountable number of emotions in the half-second it takes for him to realise you’re there.

You don’t say anything as you make eye-contact, head immediately ducking downward and stepping aside so that he can leave without you blocking his path, but he just stays there, staring at you like you had been the door, and it was becoming increasingly uncomfortable by the second.

You clear your throat with a feigned cough, pursing your lips together with a muttered “excuse me,” as you turn around to leave, but Sirius catches your wrist in his hand before you even manage to take the first step.

“Wait—” He loosens his grasp almost immediately after he feels a resistance, but his eyes convey just how determined he was to keep you where you were. “Let’s talk, please?”

There’s a hint of desperation in his tone, and you almost crumble on that alone, but you manage to maintain your composure with a small shake of your head and a gentle pull of your wrist from his hand. “I don’t think it’s worth it Sirius, not anymore,”

“Don’t say that, we can fix this,” Sirius mirrors your head shake with his own. “You just need to talk to me,”

“I tried talking to you Sirius, and look where it got us,” You gesture between the two of you with exasperation in your tone.

There’s a small pause where the two of you share and almost identical mask of composure over your agony.

“It just wasn’t meant to be, that’s it,”

“That’s not true,” Sirius shakes his head again, more confidently this time, and his inky black curls bounce against his shoulders like they’re trying to torment you with the memories of your fingers raking through them. “We can fix this, us, we just have to try,”

“I don’t want to argue with you anymore,” You lower your gaze away from his so you don’t have to see the heartbreak in his irises. “Especially not over this…”

“Then don’t, let’s work this out properly, like adults,” He reaches out his hand cautiously towards yours, and you flinch away as your fingers make contact. “Please,”

“Sirius…”

“I’m sorry.” Sirius lets out a heavy, pathetic breath as he retreats his hand to run it through his hair. “I am so sorry. I made the biggest mistake of my life and it cost me the person that I love more than life and I have suffered the consequences of it every day for the last fourteen years.”

Sirius lets his hands fall to his side with a start, voice beginning to tremble under the strain of his emotions as he desperately tries to voice everything that he’d bottled up over the last decade and a half before you leave him to rot in his own depression again. “I spent every hour in Azkaban imagining what it would be like to see you again, to hear your voice, to hold you and tell you that you’re the one thing in this goddamn hell that we live in that actually makes anything worth fighting for,”

The breaths between his words are shallow and weak, and your expression starts to blur as his eyes glass over with the beginnings of tears. “I love you so much, and I’m so— sorry that you had to live through everything I forced on you and I just—“ He takes a sharp, stuttering breath in. “—I need you to know that I will spend the rest of my life devoted to you, to correcting what I’ve done even if you don’t so much as spare me a glance,”

He’s not sure when the tears started running over his eyelids, but he can feel them fall in drops to dapple the ivory skin of his fingers. “And if I die tomorrow, I’ll take whatever punishment hell has to give me so that you can rest easy,”

The end of his rant is echoed by laboured breathing and a horrific attempt at muffling a sob that leaves his throat, bouncing off the walls of the hallway to settle into your muscles as you stand stationary in an astonished silence.

You’re not sure what to say. You’re not sure there’s anything you can say. How on earth are you supposed to respond to something like that? Something so desperate and raw and real?

Sirius Black, after fourteen years of radio silence, still loved you like you’d never parted.

“Sirius…”

And you’d be absolutely damned if you weren’t the same.

“I forgive you…”

It’s like a tsunami of relief ravages Sirius’ body at your words, barely a whisper escaping your mouth but invading his ear canals like a nuclear explosion, and it’s enough for that sliver of composure remaining to erode under the waves of his tears until he’s sobbing into his hands, hunched over with trembling shoulders as he lets everything go all at once.

“I’m so sorry—“

His final apology is doused in so much heartbreak it might as well rip your heart right out of your chest, and your at his side almost immediately, gently pulling his hand from his face to pull his head into your shoulder with a soft shush of consolation.

He clings to you like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance to, tears damping the shoulder of your shirt and his arms wrapped so tightly around your torso you’re not sure he intends to ever let go. You’re not sure you’d complain if he didn’t.

That familiar musky scent of cigarettes and faux leather hits your nose once he’s close enough, and that’s where you break too, silent tears streaming down your face as you bury your nose in his hair.

You’re eternally grateful that everyone on this floor of the house is already asleep, either that or just polite enough not to interrupt the two of you out in the hallway, because the state the both of you were in was definitely not meant to be seen by other people.

A desolate, broken side to the two of you only trusted in the company of the other.

“Stay with me tonight, please…” His plea is barely more than a mutter against your shoulder, and you’re sure he wouldn’t even have to ask to know what your answer would be.

And so you find yourself back where you started, tangled up underneath the silky black sheets of Sirius’ bed in the warmth of his embrace, that tiny shard of your heart finally recovered and back in it’s rightful place.

Right where you belong.

THIS SERIES IS SO GOOD! YALL SHOULD DEFINITELY CHECK IT OUT!!!!

This is the Masterlist for my story "With You"

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Part 9a Part 9b Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

Part 16: Conclusion Stay tuned!

My Masterlist

hell yeah

─ you’re the sunflower ੈ✩‧₊˚

✶ pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!reader

✶ synopsis: everyone on the team loves you, expect miguel who seems to hate you more than anyone.

✶ warnings: angst!! major angst. sunshine!reader x grumpy!miguel. reader is nicknamed sunflower, mentions of death.

✶ notes: there’s one spanish sentence in this, I’m not good with spanish so if I’ve made a mistake please tell me so i can fix it! I might make a part 2 if this fic does well.

Keep reading

soft

pairing: post-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: Joel wants her, and she wants him. The bumpy story of how they got together!

warnings: 18+ MDNI, reader has hair that can get in her face, smoking (weed), drinking, lots of feelings, piv, unprotected sex, slight overstimulation, kinda subby Joel at the end (lmk if i forgot anything)

wc: 10.3k (idk how that happened im sorry)

a/n: I’m pretty proud of this one. ik its long but please just give her a chance!

It started with you and Joel both high and drunk out on the porch and he looked so beautiful. There was a perpetual smile on his face, laughing and even giggling at almost everything you said, folding himself over and leaning his head on you whenever he thought something was particularly funny and you couldn't control yourself.

The next time he leaned over you waited, watching, letting him calm back down but when he went to pull off of you, you pulled his head to yours. His breathing stopped short and it scared you until he groaned into your mouth. It was so many things, it was broken, grateful, desperate but savoring and you loved it. 

He placed his hand behind your head and held you in place as he pushed his lips further into yours. It almost hurt, the way he seemed to attempt to mold your face into one, but it was so perfect. When he pulled away you were out of breath, panting in his face as he did the same. You guys continued to exchange breaths as you scrutinized every aspect of his face.

Anxiety was clawing inside your stomach as you took him in, fearing that he may never let you ever again. His soft lips parted, and you watched his tongue slide into the indent on his bottom lip. You silently hoped he could taste your remnants on them as they froze, waiting for words to spill out. Only to be interrupted by Ellie slamming the front door open. 

“Can you guys fucking keep it down?! I have school, remember? You’re the one making me go!” She shouts at you both, directing the last part at Joel who was still staring at you. You were watching Ellie as she yelled but Joel’s silence brought your gaze back to him. You shouldn’t have because you feel like that’s when it happened. You swear you could see him blocking himself off from you, like a door was shutting in his eyes. He apologized to Ellie and said it was getting late. 

Now, usually, Joel insists on you sleeping on the couch, too worried to let you go home so inebriated but that night he sent you away. It was like he broke your heart. He shattered it and forced you to place the shards in your shoes as he pushed you away, pain shooting through your whole body with every step. 

You cried yourself to sleep that night, you thought things were over with Joel, and you’d lose touch with Ellie because it would be too painful to go over there.

Your paradise was ruined.

You couldn’t believe you had read the situation so wrong. You thought- worse case- he would tell you that you’re too young, that he just can’t be with you, for whatever reason. But the look in his eyes… the way he sent you home. It felt like he didn’t even care about you anymore. 

The next day you thought you had lost your mind. You were in a terrible headspace and decided to ditch your responsibilities. You were in bed, switching between sleeping and sobbing into your pillow. You felt horrible, you looked horrible and someone was knocking incessantly at your door. They would not leave, no matter how much time passed, no matter how loud you groaned. So you wrapped your blanket around you and very angrily made your way to the door. 

“Who the fu-” Your sentence is cut short in complete and utter shock.

It was Joel. 

You let the door swing open and walk back inside. You’re already climbing back into bed as you hear him shut the door behind him. “What do you want, Joel?”

 You’re lying down, wiggling a bit to get comfortable. In the corner of your eye, you can see him just standing there, his thick arms crossed over his broad chest. Your head almost turns as you hear him take a deep breath, wishing you could see the way his chest puffs up and stretches whatever shirt he’s wearing. But you don't. He’s not someone you should be admiring like this, he’s someone you cannot be admiring like this. 

“Oh my god. Don’t just stand there you know I fucking hate that.” Your voice is so irritated, so hurt and cold but he scoffs.

Anger and embarrassment courses through you but you feel the bed dip anyway, it eases the feelings.

You can feel him right beneath your feet, so close you almost want to straighten your legs a bit more, just so you can press against him. But you don’t. 

“Okay, then don’t curse… Y'know I hate that.” His voice is painfully normal, like nothing happened, like he didn't break you. You want to laugh- or cry- at the absurdity. The thought that last night meant nothing to him, so little that he’s over here asking you things like ‘don’t curse’.

Who does he think he is? That he can treat me like shit and then ask such trivial things of me? No. Fuck him. 

“Fuck you, Joel. You’re a dick, get out.” He takes a deep breath and then is silent for a moment. You hoped and prayed that he had given up but to no avail. 

“No, honey. I’m supposed to find out why you’re not out workin’.” You scoff at him and dig yourself deeper into the blankets. “Ar- are ya sick or somethin’?” At this you turn to him, looking him dead in the eyes, asking ‘Are you fucking serious?’ but he can’t hold your gaze.

Oh! So he does remember.

You laugh humorlessly and fall back into bed where you lie in silence, for quite some time. Until his hand comes up to your ankle, resting so gently you know he’s holding it up. He’s probably still thinking over whether he should do it or not, unaware that he’s already touching you. 

“Can- Well, I- I- I know that- fuck.” He’s so angry when he says it, frustrated with himself for not having the right words.

He never knows the right thing to say, or how to convey how he feels. He’s so scared of losing you right now, but he doesn’t know how to tell you in a way that will have you asking no questions. He can’t have you asking him anything because he knows you’ll ask him things that he’s nowhere near ready to answer. “Can you just- Can you please?” 

You waited for him to say more, expecting it, but that was the end of the sentence. He wanted you to ‘just please’.

The way he says it though, you look over at him and he’s gazing into you, his eyes so piercing that you almost feel uncomfortable. It feels like he’s prying into you, willing you to open up for him to express himself without having to actually say anything to you. 

You sit up and glare back at him, softer than before but still hot with rage. “Please, what.” He shakes his head and looks away from you, into his lap instead as his hand fully settles on your ankle. He keeps huffing out breaths, like he’s going to say something but then decides against it. You’re almost irritated with the sound until he takes a breath and follows it with words. 

“You- I need for yesterday to have not happened.”

Fuck him.

You hadn’t even gotten over the first rejection, the lack of care he showed and now here he was rejecting you again. “You must- You gotta understand why it can’t happen. Why we-”

You were trying not to tremble as he rubbed his hand over his face, trying to keep himself calm in the face of the extreme stress the whole situation was putting on him. Tears were welling in your eyes as he spoke, despite you squeezing them shut to avoid this exact issue. But it hurt just as much as it did last night, maybe more. “We just can’t. Not- I need for things to go back to normal… f- for now at least…”

You’re breathing froze, eyes snapping open to look at Joel, who was still looking in his lap. His hand left your ankle to meet his other fidgeting one as you both sat in silence. You could see him peeking at you from the corner of his eye as subtly as he could as you thought over his words.

You felt like you were on a game show. Do you double down or just take what you have?

‘I need for yesterday to have not happened’

‘I need for things to go back to normal’

His words hurt.

‘F-for now at least’

But those words… made it worth it. 

You didn’t want to push him. You know how hard it must’ve been for him to even express the little bit he did. Along with that, the thought of him noticing you weren’t around and coming to check on you was making its way through your cloud of hate. 

“Y-you sent me away…” Your voice isn’t hard anymore. It isn't soft either, it was just weak. You can see Joel grimace at it, turning away from you so you couldn’t see him. “Wh- You- you always let me stay but- you just-” You stop talking, if you kept going you would’ve started sobbing again. 

“I couldn’t let you stay, honey. The- I didn’t- I don’t have enough self-control for something like that to happen an’... I’m leaving you in the guest room? No. I would’ve- had to have- I… No, I-” He breathes out in annoyance again and you yearn to comfort him. But you don’t.

He always gets too frustrated with himself, making it even harder for him to clear his head enough to say what he wants. “I wouldn’t have been able to leave you there. I would’ve had to do somethin’ and I- I don't think that’s a good idea.”

You’re not completely satisfied with the answer, you have more questions now than you did before but you managed to collect one piece of information.

Joel wants you.

It wasn’t a flat-out rejection more like a, ‘let's put a pin in that’ and you have enough faith in him to believe he wouldn’t string you along. So you sniffle, put your big boy pants on as you wipe your tears, and tap Joel on the shoulder, turning his gaze to you. You take a deep breath and speak.

“Yesterday’s events are forgotten.” You say it with a light smile but you’re betrayed by one stray tear as it rushes down your face. Joel’s expression crumbles at it, in so much pain, so heartbroken at the thought that he had caused it. Despite his feelings, he nods at you and gets up. “Get ready. You’re in the fields today, darlin’.” He hits the door frame with a grateful smile before walking away to let you get changed.

Leaving you in your hopeful sadness. 

------------------------------------

Things were rocky at first. Neither of you were actually able to forget about ‘what happened’ as Joel so lovingly put it. You expected too much from him and he was still too cold toward you. For the first month, you guys were basically in an argument. It was as though the town couple, the gruff old man and the re-tamed angel, had broken up. 

Everyone knew that you were hooking up with Jared, he wouldn’t shut up about it. Joel and the townspeople had heard of his sexual conquests over and over since he arrived, before he set his sights on you.

When he first approached you, you had already gotten out of your ‘phase’ and were too captivated by Joel to entertain him for even a second. However, he was quite popular among the other town women, he was popular with women even before the outbreak so he couldn’t believe when you rejected him. Not that he was shocked, he fully did not believe you. In turn, he never stopped pursuing you… much like Gaston from Beauty and the Beast.

So when Joel broke you, you slipped back to how you were before him… You went to Jared. You don’t know if you were hoping he could put you back together or if you wanted him to help you cut Joel with the shards of your heart but the latter is what ended up happening. 

You wanted to cut it off with Jared the moment Joel found out. When Jared started parading around the town with you next to him as if you were genuinely interested. But you didn’t.

Instead, you kept seeing him for a few more weeks. You watched Joel avoid you like the plague, ducking out of every room you walked into, switching his jobs with people who had the worst ones just so he didn’t have to work with you. You enjoyed making him squirm, showing him that you could just move on if he’s not ready to step up. You were a highly sought-after woman, a piece of art who he wanted to keep in the garage until he found the right spot. No, you refuse. Until you came across him alone at the bar one night. 

He was obviously drunk, a beer in hand but his cheek on the table. There was a song playing that he was loosely singing along to. His other hand was in the air, waving his finger around like he was conducting an orchestra. You storm over to his booth. 

Watch him suddenly sober up and head home. Watch him suddenly remember some plans he made or something he forgot to do. Watch him just get up and leave me again. 

You sit down across from him and wait for him to notice you. You’re just watching him. His eyes are closed and his eyebrows furrow as he tries to hit each high note. He’s failing, not hitting them perfectly but still getting to an impressive pitch. It’s too endearing to see him like this, so open, unburdened.

You didn’t even know he could sing this well. Your anger and bitterness fades for the first time in weeks. Your head tilts and a soft smile invades your face, as if sensing this Joel finally opens his eyes. 

They’re so soft, probably because he thought he was alone, his guard is dropped. You’re waiting for them to go back up at the sight of you. But they stay so soft as he gasps gently. “Honey! Wha- When did you get ‘ere” His voice is softer too… not as rough and gruff as it usually is. 

He also doesn’t sound angry. After all he’s done to avoid you, you’d expect him to sound angry. You chalk it up to the alcohol. 

“I’ve been here. You just never noticed.” When your voice reaches Joel it's gentle, like how you’d speak to a child but not patronizing. He likes it. He swears he can feel your voice washing over him, running through his hair and caressing his cheek. He smiles at it, at you as a blush rises to his cheeks. 

“S-so you-” He looks down at the table, his eyes moving back and forth as he thinks. “Did you hear m-” You can’t help the laugh that slips out. Your hand comes up to cover your mouth but you’re still obviously smiling. “Oh.” That’s all he says as you let your laughs out. 

“I’m- Not laughing at you, Joel. I- I swear.” Laughs break up your sentence as Joel stares at the table. “Oh- I’m so sorry. God. You really didn’t notice me here! That’s what was so funny not your singing I swear.” You let out a little giggle at the end but Joel is frowning. 

“This s’why I don’ sing in front of no one.” He’s picking at the wood and grumbling to himself. You’d find it all incredibly annoying if it wasn’t Joel doing it. 

“Joel.” You’re stern but still gentle as you speak. “I told you it wasn’t your singing. The singing was great. I was so fucking impressed. I had no clue you could even sing like that.” You watch a smile creep onto his face as you praise his talent. He’s still looking at the table, wanting to stay angry but he can’t. Your smile widens the longer you watch him until he takes a swig of his beer. 

“Why are you so drunk?”

The words tumble out before you can stop them and Joel pauses mid-sip. He’s frozen like that before slamming it onto the table and looking at you. “ ‘M not drunk. ‘M not. But if I was…” He squints his eyes at you. “If I was- It’s probably cos the girl I want seems to want someone else.”

It feels like everything in the bar stops. Your breathing, your heart, the music, time, the world. Everything just stops. 

He got this drunk… over me?

He chuckles and finishes his beer as you sit there in shock. “Dunno why you’re doin’ all this. I know you knew. Jus’ thought-” He goes to take another sip and whines when there’s nothing. “Stupid fuckin-” He throws it across the room, astonishingly making it into the trash with a small mumble of ‘swish’. 

“Joel.” He turns back to you with a blank expression. “You never told me you liked me.” 

“Oh please.” His voice is mean, a bit sharp now. Your face contorts into one of disgust as he speaks. “You ain’t that dumb, honey. It was very heavily implied an’ you know it.” Your expression drops into a frown. His voice broke at the end, followed by a sniff and an aggressive rub from his sleeve over his nose. “B-but you’re still out there with fuckin’ Jared.” His voice shakes through the sentence, adding some anger at the end as you cringe at the sound of his name. You both were aware you didn’t have any honest feelings for Jared.

“Joel. You told me to pretend that… that night.” You look away from him, embarrassed at what should be a sweet memory. “You told me to pretend it never happened and then treated me like shit for no reason afterward. Certainly, you didn’t expect me to sit in that. There’s no way you thought I would tolerate it! So yeah, I went to get whatever affection I could, elsewhere since my best and main source ran fucking dry.” You can feel your anger towards him building back up as you speak, reliving the details of your guys’ downfall. It still hurt. 

“Certainly you didn’t- Why do you talk so damn proper?” He’s laughing to himself at his rendition of your voice but you’re nowhere near amused. You stand from your seat and look down at him, stopping his laughter instantly.

“Okay. Let’s talk about this when you’re sober, hmm? When you can be an adult? Stay on topic at least?” His brows furrow and his eyes leave yours. You stand there, waiting for him to respond but get nothing. “Cool, Joel. I’ll see you around then.” You sigh and turn away from him, disappointed.

The night had started so well, that you stupidly believed that you guys might be able to save your relationship. You should’ve known he was too drunk for the conversation but he shouldn’t have brought it up. If he knew he wouldn’t be able to have a serious conversation he shouldn’t have brought it up in the first place. Now you’re both hurting all over again. He’s probably gonna grab another drink and you’re probably gonna go see Jared. 

“Please!” It’s frantic, desperate, and unsteady as it shoots out of his mouth. You freeze in your spot, halfway to the door and halfway from him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t wanna talk about it. Why fuckin’ would I? It hurts. You fuckin’— You hurt me… prancing around with that piece of shit- All I did was ask you to wait… just wait- for me to be ready to love you.”

You’re still standing in the middle of the room, facing the door. His voice was getting louder, closer as he spoke but you don’t turn. You could hear the emotion bleeding into his words, breaking his voice as he approached you. 

“But you- You couldn’t even wait for me! No. No, you had to go get— ah how’d ya put it? Affection elsewhere- fuck off. You coulda just said you needed something from me. I could’ve given you affection.” His voice softened after cursing at you. It only grows softer as he speaks. You can feel him behind you, maybe a few steps away but you don’t turn.

You don’t wanna see him, lose your edge, your nerve. “I- I would’ve given it to you if I knew, darlin’. I was tryna keep my distance, waitin’ for you to get over me and look! You did. I- I just wish you had told me, instead of havin’ t’hear it from fuckin’— fuckin’ Jared.”

His voice dies down for a moment and you turn around. His hair is everywhere, he must’ve been running his hands through it as he spoke. His eyes aren’t teary but they look like he could cry at any moment, he looks tired and his lips are bitten red.

“I would’ve understood. Or- Or maybe I wouldn’t’ve I dunno. I just wish you woulda said somethi-”

You’re kissing him.

Fuck.

You are kissing him. You didn't mean to. You have no clue how your lips got to his but they’re all over them. He’s groaning at you, pulling you in as you pull away.

“Fuck! I’ve got to stop doing that… jesus.” You’re looking at the ground as you wipe his slobber off your mouth. He’s silent, panting as he just stands there and your heart starts to race. 

It’s just like last time. Fuck. Why the fuck do I keep doing this shit.

Tears are already welling in your eyes and you decide to speak before he can send you away. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that… I know you need time or whatever.” You pause, giving him room to say anything but he doesn't. You want to look up at him, see what he’s thinking, how he’s reacting. But you don’t. 

“Yeah… I’m gonna go.” You turn around and finish your walk to the exit. You grab the handle and stop. “I- I’m gonna cut things off with Jared…” You stay silent for a bit, trying to decide whether you should say your next words.  “I do need your affection though, Joel.” You rushed out the door after that.  

------------------------------------

You just want to fuck him already. It’s been months now, of this back and forth. To be clear, you do still want him romantically, how could you not? This man, when his hair is fluffy and soft just like him. When you see his expression now light up when you walk into the room. When he builds you little trinkets in the shop, instead of doing the job he was assigned to. When he makes your favorite for dinner after finding out that you’re having a bad day. When he plans movie nights featuring your favorites that he could find on DVD. 

How could you not love him?

It scares you. The “situation-ship” you both were currently in started a few months ago. Actually… It started exactly four months and three weeks ago. There’s no point in pretending you haven’t kept track. Joel told you that he needed time. You would have never expected it to be this much time but you’ve grown to love and crave him over the months.

He listened to what you said at the bar that night. He’s been giving you so much affection it’s actually making the other women in the community quite jealous of you. He hasn’t kissed you yet but he kisses your cheek, your forehead, and- when he’s drunk or high enough- your neck. You don’t kiss him anymore. You’ve kissed his cheek a few times over the months, his head once when he was sick but other than that you try to keep to yourself. You’re still a bit traumatized from his first rejection, the way it played out, and everything. You’d rather just not risk it.  

You’re in the garden and he’s in the field. You’re planting flowers, pulling and re-planting vegetables while Joel is harvesting the wheat he planted four months ago and tilling the land for the new seeds. You keep looking over at him, you really can’t help it at this point. 

The sun is shining through his hair, making it a dark golden color with streaks of white running through it. His arms are smudged from handling the dirt all day and his biceps flex repeatedly as he picks the kernels off of the wheat and throws them into his basket. His eyebrows are creased and his eyes squinted to avoid the burning light of the sun and he keeps looking over at you. He really can’t help it at this point. 

You look so beautiful, sitting on your knees with your adorably mismatched gardening gloves. Your hair falls so angelically every time you lean forward to lead a new plant to its home. Every time you sit back up you use the back of your wrist to try and shove the hair from your face, sputtering out, trying to blow the hair away and it's so endearing. Your arms are dirty and he feels the incredibly odd urge to bathe you. He’s ready to love you. He’s so fucking ready but he has no clue— not even the slightest— as to how he should tell you. 

The current supervisor calls it a day and you almost fall face-first into the plants in your scramble to get to Joel. He’s taking off his gloves, flexing and stretching his fingers when he sees you rushing toward him with a huge smile he can’t help but mirror. “Hey, darlin’. You look so beautiful today.”

You freeze where you stand which luckily isn’t too far from Joel. He makes his way over to you, watching your expression. He loves it so much, he doesn’t understand how he never noticed it before. The way you always take a deep, shaking breath, your eyebrows go inward and you give him this look. He doesn’t understand it yet but it always makes him ache for you, makes him burn somewhere in the depths of his being to just be with you. He doesn’t know how long he can resist it. He doesn't want to. He doesn’t.

“I’m- I think I really- I just really wanna kiss you.” You snap out of your daze and your eyes focus on him, hopeful for a moment then a little dull. You turn your head, give him your cheek, close your eyes, and wait for the gentle kiss but nothing happens. You slowly open your eyes and look at him, he looks scared. “I wanna kiss you.”

You can hear your heart speed up, your breaths getting shorter and your thoughts more jumbled.

He wants to kiss me?

You’re confused for a moment, not understanding what brought this on. You’re eyes slip from his contact as you lose yourself in your thoughts, not realizing the silence you’re creating or the anxiety you’re causing. But Joel realizes, he’s sweating more than he has all day as he waits for you to say something, do something. He shifts his weight from foot to foot before giving up. “We don’t have to… I just- I wanted to…” He tries and fails to keep the sadness out of his voice.

His words strike fear in you and you reach out to grip his arm, hoping it’s enough to stop him from walking away. “Y-You wanna kiss me? On the… on the lips?” He’s surprised by your voice, it sounds far away, loose, and airy.

“I do.” It comes out with no hesitation, no stutters, no pause. You take a step closer to him and his expression twitches, his chest beginning to heave with anticipation. 

“I would really love that, Joel.” You’re staring up at him now, as best you can in the sun. You’re looking into his eyes, an excited, mischievous glint in your eyes, challenging him, daring him to do something. And he loses his nerve. 

“Oh! Okay. Thats… Thats good. I- I want you to come over later, alright? I’ll get us some weed and alcohol. You don’t need to bring snacks or nothin’ either jus- jus bring yourself, alright? Okay, see you then.” And with that, he walked off. His cheeks were absolutely burning. He couldn’t believe himself 

‘That's good’? What the fuck is wrong with you, Miller? Leaving that darlin’ girl standing in the sun like that? It just ain’t right, she’s so sweet on you and you fuckin’ know it. I gotta stop doin’ this to her…

You’re watching Joel walk away. A bit stunned by the whole interaction, confusion, and questions swarm your head the whole walk home. They stick with you in the shower and as you get ready to head over to Joel’s. They accompany you on the whole walkover as well.

Maybe he wants me to do something… I know people like it rough, so maybe he wants me to take charge? He doesn’t really seem the type. Does this mean he wants me now? Will he kiss me tonight? Is that why he invited me over? Are we gonna have sex? Oh god, I hope so. I’d treat him so well- or maybe I wouldn’t since everyone likes it rough. 

You’ve reached his block when you’re stopped by Susan; Joel’s biggest admirer. She places herself in front of you, blocking your path and forcing you to talk to her.  “Oh, he’s not in, hun.”

You take a calming breath and try not to roll your eyes at her. “Okay… Well, I’m gonna check, just in case.” You turn your steps and try to make your way around her only for her to place herself right back in your way. 

“I’m gonna be honest I- I don’ really get this whole thing with you an’ him. I just- I guess I don’ really see it… Do ya’ know what I mean?” You glare at her, ignoring her statement and waiting for her to just get out of your way. “I mean…” She steps closer to you. “I remember when you first got here…” 

You can feel shame and embarrassment curl in your stomach at the mention of your arrival. You weren’t in the best place, mentally, and you did a lot- a lot- of things that you wished you hadn’t, lots of men you wished you hadn’t. “Don’t be an ass, Susan.” She backs away from you, a sinister smile on her face and her hands in the air. 

“Hey! I’m” She laughs. “I’m jus sayin’... You were interested in a lot of different guys!” You start walking, refusing to listen to what she has to say. But the psycho bitch follows you. “I mean are you even sure that it’s him that you want? Weren’t you with Jared just a few months ago? I mean…” 

You’re speed-walking to Joel’s now. You’re only a house away when she hops in front of you again. “Hun! I told you he ain’t home! I’m just-” She sighs and lowers her head as you crane your neck, hoping and praying Joel had made his way to the porch by now. But he hasn’t. “If you just want a man I can set you up with some of my friends! Some people who are… Gosh! How do I say this without bein’ rude? Some people who are more in your… lane… league?” Your head whips back at her, fury raging in your eyes at her audacity. 

“Excuse me?” You question, low and threatening. “Well. Hun, c’mon now, don’t get all bent outta shape, I mean well! You and I both know Joel is too… hmm, well. He’s too good for you I guess.” You’re not staring at her, you’ve turned your head to the patch of sky you can see through the trees beside you, choosing to count the stars instead of listening to this shit. 

“I’d strongly disagree.” You can hear her gasp and spin around as a smile spreads over your face.

Joel. 

“Oh! I- I thought you weren’t home, sugar.” She tries to lean into him but he walks around her and grabs your arm, pulling you past her with a mumble of “Yeah. I know.”, ending the conversation. 

Joel doesn’t speak until he’s gotten you inside. “I dunno why you listen to that woman. She spews nothin’ but garbage.” You watch him dart from cupboard to cupboard to retrieve his lighter and a little joint you can tell he rolled because it’s dented in the middle. “She’s always saying some dumb shit. I fuckin’ hate it.” 

His eyebrows are furrowed and his face is hard as he lights it up. You can’t remember the last time you’ve seen him so angry. You watch the tension fall from his shoulders, his face relaxing as he inhales. You take your shoes off, still watching him as a small smile spreads over his face and he exhales. “Are you gonna share Joel?” You ask as he goes in for another hit. 

“Hey-  Be nice darlin’, it’s mine after all.” He teases while handing it to you. You push yourself up onto the counter, sitting next to where he’s leaning as you take a drag. 

“Yours schmours, you’ll be fine.” He giggles— giggles— at your statement, his hand coming up to cover his smile as he laughs. All you can see are his pretty brown eyes, the creases around them, and the way they almost shut while he laughs. You feel your heart race, bringing along that urge that has gotten you in trouble many times over. Your eyes flicker to his lips and you immediately avert your gaze, taking another hit to try and calm yourself. 

You wait for him to come back up from his designated, folded, laughing position and hold the joint out for him. You snort at the misshapen stick, causing you to choke on the smoke you were holding. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s what you get for laughing. Mhm.” You’re coughing up a lung as he says this, making the situation worse because you cannot stop laughing at him. He continues his remarks after taking a hit, you’re still choking and laughing, and you hold an arm out to him. 

“Joel-” You cough. “Joel-” You laugh. “Joel, stop it. I’m- oh fuck.” You start coughing again in a way that has Joel turning to face you, amusement and a bit of concern on his face. “Oh my god, stop. I’m gonna die, don’t make me laugh- oh my god.” 

He’s beaming at you, proud that you find him so funny and the high really hitting him. You can tell, his eyes are a bit hazy and his eyebrows are raised for some reason. He walks towards you when your fit dies down, pushing himself between your legs with a dazed look on his face. He’s just staring at your thighs for a moment, his head turning from left to right so he can look at both of them before looking up at you. Your heart is thrumming out of your chest as you try to keep your expression neutral, maybe a bit inquisitive. He stares at your lips for a bit before you see his hand raising with the joint. He brings it to your lips and looks back up at your eyes, his eyebrows jump, prompting you to inhale. 

You take a long hit, trying to get as much smoke as you can, hoping it will calm you down. His eyes stay on yours, darkening as his breathing becomes a bit shallow. He pulls the joint away from your lips and puts it out right onto the counter before bringing his hand up to your cheek.

You haven’t exhaled yet, savoring the hit while he slowly brings your face to his. You’re watching his eyes, still on yours as he pulls you in. You begin to exhale, not wanting to hold the smoke in if he’s going to kiss you. That’s when he pushes your lips together. You try not to choke as he sucks the smoke out of your mouth and pulls away. You’re in a stupor as he grins at you and breathes your smoke out, re-lighting the fire in the pit of your stomach, the one that always seems to flare whenever he’s around.

“What’d ya think of that, huh? Good kiss or?” He’s wearing a smirk but his eyes are uncertain at your silence. You keep it up, not saying anything, just pulling him back in and smashing your lips into his. He accepts your kiss with a grunt from the force of it as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in. 

You’re gripping his hair like it's your lifeline, gripping his face like it’ll fall apart otherwise, it hurts a little but he’s fond of your eagerness. Your hands slide onto his shoulders and you dig your fingers into his skin brutally, pulling a wince from him. He separates your lips and strokes over your cheek with his thumb, admiring you. It's a soft, tender moment until you yank him by his belt loops, crashing him against the counter painfully to whisper in his ear. “I want you, Joel”

He smiles at this and kisses you again as you undo his belt. You remove it from the loops and let it drop to the ground so you can get to work on his button and zipper. You feel his lips stutter against yours and he pulls away, confused. “Not- not here, darlin’. ‘M not gonna do this in the kitchen.” He sounds a bit confused as he grips your hips and lifts you off of the counter and back onto the floor. They come back up to cradle your face again as he places a quick, soft kiss on your lips. “ ‘M gonna make love to you in my room, on my bed, baby.”

Make love..?

Confusion flows through your mind but you go along with him, assuming it’s just some outdated terminology. “Yeah? You gonna fuck me in your bed, Joel?” He is so shocked by your response. He doesn’t understand why you’re being so aggressive about it. He’s trying to be gentle, and loving but you seem to reject it. He gives you a brief but genuine smile before leading you to his room,

Your heart is racing as you follow Joel to his bedroom. This would be the first time you’ll be having sex with someone you care about, someone you love. You wondered if it would feel any different when he was shattering your hips with his own, would there still be that soft look of adoration in his eyes? You don’t see how the two could go together. 

You get to his room and he shuts the door quietly. “Can you stay still, honey?” He rolled his sleeves up, only halfway, showing off his thick forearms. He’s circling you as he questions you, holding eye contact and stopping in front of you. “I- I wanna undress you.”

Your throat feels like it’s closed. 

Undress me? Why would he want to- That doesn’t seem very time-efficient… Oh, but look at him. 

His eyes are silently and subconsciously begging you to let him. You let him. 

He takes a deep breath and his eyes rake down your body the moment you nod at him. He grabs your hips, pulling you to him with a boyish grin before running his fingers along the hem of your shirt. They tickle your skin softly as he brings them up, bunching the fabric before pulling it over your head. He looks right into your eyes as he does this. That soft look digs into your chest, it feels like you may explode. 

He only breaks away from your gaze to throw your shirt on a chair in the corner. He brings his empty hand to cup your cheek, stroking his thumb across your skin as a sort of apology for diverting his attention. He looks back at you with a smile so gentle you may melt. 

Your knees almost give out when he unbuttons your pants, he sticks his thumbs in the back of your waistband, leaning into you. He’s so close. He’s so close. He’s smirking like he knows you want to kiss him. He leans forward, licking his lips before abruptly ducking down, pulling your pants with him. 

You let out a surprised squeal that has him smiling up at you. Your hand comes up to bury itself in his hair before you realize it. You admire the softness of it, how fluffy it is. His eyes droop, getting a foggy, clouded look in them as he stares up at you. 

Make it good for him. Everyone likes it rough. 

You pull it, much harder than necessary, and watch his eyebrows crease in what you assume is arousal as he grunts again. He lifts from his kneeling position and kisses you, a little harder than he did before. 

His hands were running down your back, cupping your ass, and then stroking down your thighs. He’s breathing heavily against your face as his hands squeeze your inner thigh. They roam all over your body but never go where you want them, where you need them. 

“Okay, Joel. Enough I need you. I- I need you.” He smiles underneath his bitten lip as you push him away and gesture to his entire body. “Take them off… Off!” 

You’re basically ripping your undergarments off and running to him, unbuttoning his shirt for him as he takes off his pants. The moment your hands push his shirt open he’s kissing you instead. He walks you both onto the bed, tripping over his pants with a giggle before landing safely on the covers. You waste no time in climbing over him, whining out when his cock rubs along your soaked pussy. He lifts himself to try and kiss you but you’re not looking at him. You’re trying to push his dick into your soaking, aching pussy. 

“Shit- Damn. Fuck, honey.” He slams himself back onto the bed, his hands tighten around your hips as you position your legs beneath you and slam your hips onto him. It fucking burns. You’re wet and wanting but he’s huge, the stretch of his fat cock burns inside you as his tip jams itself into your cervix painfully. You bit off more than you can chew. Joel is grunting harshly beneath you so you power through, attempting to hide your grimace as you let out half-honest moans. 

“Fuck- No. No, no, stop, baby.” His hands force you down and hold you there, rendering you immobile as he sits up. You’re watching his abs clench as he sits up with no assistance but his pure muscle, your eyes only move to his face when he clears his throat. 

You’re embarrassed now, under the impression that you’ve done something wrong, something he didn’t like. You wouldn’t know what to do if that were the case… You were doing what you normally do… You don't know any special moves or anything like that. “Did- You didn’t like it..?”

You ask as timidly as possible, hoping he could hear it and would be gentle. 

“I- I mean I guess but it’s not what I want.” Confusion and a bit of anger flares inside you. How were you supposed to know what he wanted? 

“Okay well, what do you want then, Joel?” His brows furrow and he brings a hand up to caress your face again. 

“I want to make love to you. I told you that.”

There’s that fucking term again. 

“I don’t know what that means, Joel! Isn’t it the same as fucking? I don’t get it.” His brows unfurrow instantly, becoming soft and a bit upturned in what seemed to be concern. And to add insult to injury… you can feel him softening inside you. 

“What do you mean?” His voice is much softer than yours, but it frustrates you. You struggle not to roll your eyes at him. 

“I do not know what that means. I do not understand.” You talk slower than necessary, not actually explaining anything. You’re being a brat.

He tilts his head at you, giving a gut-wrenching, disappointed look. He kisses your cheeks and tells you to be nice, that he’s just trying to understand you.

“No… It’s not the same as fuckin’. It’s gentle and lovin’. It’s me takin’ my time with you, gettin’ you to open up for me.” You can feel his dick filling back up, stretching you out beautifully.

“It’s me learnin’ about what you like, showin’ you what I think you’d like, and getting you to cum around me and for me as long as I can. It’s more focused on- on love rather than lust.” He sighs quietly. “I’m- I’m bettin’ you’ve never had that though…” 

You hear sadness leak into his voice as he ends his sentence, watching you avert your gaze. He watches frustration and shame creep onto your face. “So what? I don’t even- I don’t think I even like it that way. Slow? It already takes me long enough to cum… I don’t need to be here for hours on end, Joel.”

He shakes his head at you sadly. “You would like it, baby.” He has one hand back on your hip as the other spreads out, his large hand spread over your back as he slowly flips you both over, resting you on the bed softly. “I- fuck, I know you’d love it, honey.”

His words resonate deep in your core, bringing a new wave of wetness to run over his cock. “Oh-” His hips stutter into yours as though he could feel the extra cream flowing over his dick. “Yeah, oh you’d- I think you’ll like it, darlin’”

He places you on the bed and finishes talking before kissing you and raising to straighten himself out. His hips thrust slowly into yours and fuck does it feel good. I mean of course it does, Joel is towing over you like a Greek god and his cock is sliding within your walls smoothly, stimulating every nerve it comes across. You start to buck your hips, impatient with the slow build of the pleasure. You wanted something explosive, something that will leave you heaving for breath and you cannot comprehend how you could possibly get there like this. 

Joel smiles, shakes his head at your agitation, and presses his hands down onto your sporadic hips, forcing them to stay on the bed. “No. Softly, baby. Be gentle with me, c’mon.” He continues his rhythm before, rocking into you with breathless pants. Your pleasure felt just out of reach and it was insanely maddening. “Calm down.” He tells you in a low, warning tone. You swear he can read your mind. 

“Tell me.” He leans down so his lips are right by your ear. He places a kiss on your temple and looks down at where the two of you connect, shoving his hair in your face. “Do you like this?” He keeps at his regular pace, the frustrating, agitating, insanely maddening pace. “Or… Do you-” He lets out a shuddering sigh right next to your ear, your eyes nearly rolling back at the faint sound. “Or do you like this?”

His pace changes into something indescribable. His hips are swiveling into yours and hitting eighteen different pleasure points at once. Your arms come up to grip his biceps, one instantly sliding down to his lower back to encourage him to keep it up.

“Oh-” You sound shocked and out of breath. “Oh. I like that one, Joel. This one. I like this one- please” His pace speeds up and he moans at the sound of your whimper. His attention is finally pulled from where you both meet and he’s looking right into your eyes.

This man and his fucking eye contact. 

It’s doing something to you… the way he’s looking at you. It’s burning into your stomach and has you clenching around him, pulling another ragged, angelic moan from his lips, hitting your lips directly due to his position. You lean up and kiss him as much as you can, most of your brain had shut off the moment he flipped you both over. 

He was hitting so deep inside you, a whole section that you didn't know existed. His cock is slowly sliding over every ridge in your pussy, his veins stimulating your sensitive walls. “Joel-” 

It slips out like a whimper as your moans release. You’re suddenly on 100% volume, unable to hold anything in. You never learned how. You thought you just didn’t moan against your own will, never having been in enough pleasure to let out authentic moans. 

Your hand comes from his lower back to slap over your mouth, desperately trying to hold all your noises in but Joel rips it away. “Don’t do- fuck you feel so fuckin’ good-“ His voice is shaking and breathless.

“Fuck, don’ cover up your- your moans, please. Fuck I wanna hear ‘em” He intertwines your fingers with his and holds your hand next to your head. He straightens himself as much as he can while keeping your fingers interlocked so he can grind into you more deliberately. He’s angling himself a million different ways until you convulse onto yourself. You try to hold in a scream as he fucks into… something. It’s almost painful, the way pleasure punches through your body with every thrust. 

“Yeah?- God fuckin’ dammit."

His hips stutter as you involuntarily suffocate his dick in your pussy. “Fuck- Is that it? Your special spot, honey? I got it dead on, huh?” He’s wearing an irritatingly calm smirk as he teases you. You, on the other hand, can barely breathe.

You’re clawing at anything you can get a hold of, his arms, the back of his neck, his back. You feel like you could cry- or throw up at the otherworldly pleasure Joel is forcing onto you. Your mouth is perpetually open, spewing out moans every other second. Your eyes keep rolling back into your head despite your attempts to look at Joel. You can’t even wrangle together enough thoughts to coherently explain how good it feels, how good he’s making you feel. “Jo- Joel. F-” You’re cut off with a whine as he pushes himself into you more forcefully.

“Joey, please- You’re right it’s s’much better. Shit- Joel!-” You let out a more devastating moan than you have all night, causing Joel to groan out in response. Your eyes open to look at him and he’s staring right at you, his eyes are something you’ve never seen, they’re dark and threatening, like a lion stalking its prey. But in this situation the lion is in love with the gazelle, it’s evident in his eyes, all over his face as he moans for you. 

“Of course ‘m r- right- Fuck, you’ve really got no clue how- how fuckin’-” His statement melts into a whimpering moan as he bends back down to moan into your ear. “You feel fuckin’ heavenly, darlin’.”

It creeps up on you out of fucking nowhere. A moan rips through your chest and destroying throat as you cum around him, his words pushing you to the edge. “Oh fu-uck. Yeah? S’that good, baby? Fuckin’- fuckin’ c-cumming all over my cock with no warning, love? Oh fuck me you’re s-so good, sweetheart.” 

His words fuel your world-demolishing, soul-shattering, mind fucking-ly amazing orgasm. You can feel the pleasure coursing through your veins like molten gold. Your entire body is vibrating, you’re lifting off the bed into an ethereal plane as Joel keeps thrusting into you, moaning soft praises in your ear as you gush all over his cock.

Your eyes are permanently in the back of your skull as your hand runs frantically all over his body, trying to find something to ground you, to keep you from flying away on the cloud of pleasure Joel was providing for you. 

He slows his thrusts in favor of you. Your moans had begun to get a bit desperate, all over the place, feverish and distraught as your pleasure bubbled over into overstimulation. Joel is kissing your neck softly, whispering even more soft words laced with love as your soul returns to your body with a broken whine of his name. He pulls his face out of your neck with a smile, his hips still thrusting into you slowly, just toeing the line of overstimulation. It has you losing your mind. You’re writhing against him as he smirks at you. “Do you want more? I can keep going, baby. I’ll go slow, soft, just like this.” 

He gets a bit breathy at the end, his free hand comes up to cup your face as the one holding yours tenses for a moment. His head drops onto your shoulder as most of his body collapses onto you.

He’s still thrusting into you gently as he groans out against your neck. “Fuck me. You’re turning me into a fuckin’ teenager again.” He grunts out a whine into your skin. “Can’t fuckin’ control shit. O-oh I wanna make you cum again, sweetheart.” His hips speed up as he rambles to you. You lean away from him a bit, forcing his head from your shoulder, and turn to look at him. 

He looks so wrecked. His lips are trembling, glossy, and red from all his biting. You didn't even notice. His eyes are on yours but they regularly lose focus, rolling into his head with a groan. “You’re makin’ me feel so fucking good, love. I just want you to feel as good- I wanna make you cum again.” He sounds more desperate than you could’ve ever imagined, your hand slides up the back of his neck and buries itself in his hair, scratching at his scalp softly, causing his eyes to cross lightly as he moans against you, hips stuttering. “Let me. Let me, let me. Let me pl-lease”

His unabashed begging has you clenching around him erratically, pulling a ruined groan from his lips. “M-make me cum again, Joel. C’mon, baby. I want-” He’s already moaning into your mouth as you speak, his hips fucking into you unsteadily. You’re already close from the intensity of the moment, Joel’s hand cradling your face, your hand in his hair. His head is resting against yours, forehead to forehead but his eyes are still open, piercing your soul and your heart with the love that's residing in them, it has your pussy clenching around him desperately. He’s moaning out shamelessly, loudly, and right into your face, into your mouth. 

“I’m gonna- I need you to c-cum. Holy sh-” You cut him off with a wet, searing kiss that’s mostly groans and whines into the mouth of the other. Your hips lift off the bed to buck into him softly, grinding your clit into the patch of curls that rests on his pelvis. He’s smiling at your movements, the contrast in how they were when he started with you.

“Y-yeah. Good, baby. Soft. Just l-like that, sweetheart. You’re so fuckin’ pure.” His eyes roll back into his head as your pussy begins to flutter around him. You can feel it this time, building inside you. The coil in your stomach tightens as you feel the angelic feeling inch back into your veins. Your hands grip his hair more desperately, pulling his ear to your lips as your orgasm begins to spill over. 

“I’m- I’m cumming, Joey.” You’re voice stabs into him. The high-pitched and desperate, shocked innocence in it has him twitching inside you. His pace is ruined the moment you utter those words into his ear. He can feel his eyes shoot to the back of his head as he falls into your shoulder again and starts to cum inside you. 

It’s more than heavenly, cumming at the same time as you. His cock is throbbing, shooting out thick, heavy, ropes of his cum inside you as your pussy pulses in time with him, milking him for everything he has. He can’t breathe, all the air has punched out of him as he tries to warn you that he’s cumming.

He wants to moan out for you, call your name over and over to hear you work yourself up into those whining moans you can’t help but let out. He gathers enough strength to push himself up and look at you. He feels like a whole new round of cum spews out of him at the sight. Your eyes are crossed as you moan out at the ceiling. He’s vaguely aware of the way your hand has twisted and tightened in his hair as you cum, your nails digging into his other hand.

He’s smiling through the second round of cum that pumps into you, deliriously happy with how hard he’s made you cum. You sound like you’re in the same situation as him, all the air suddenly gone from your lungs. You’re just letting out barely perceptible moans of his name on loop. 

His thighs shake as his dick finally stops pouring into you. He looks down at the ring of white sitting on the base of his dick and groans. He looks back up at you, wanting to show you the mess you’ve made on him but you’re still so far gone. Your pussy pulses around him arrhythmically as you mutter up at the ceiling, your hand stroking through his hair subconsciously. 

He’s able to come down before you. He pulls out and lays next to you, his head on your chest while he’s muttering those same, soft praises into your ear as your soul tries to find its way back to your body again. You follow the sound of his low praises, grounding you and pulling you back to reality. “-baby. I’m so in love with you. Thank you so fuckin’ much for waitin’ for me, I know it was hard, but I love you so fuckin’ much. You’re so incredible, so so incredible, baby. The best lady I know, the only lady I wanna know. You-” You have a faint, tired smile spreading across your face as he goes on, sounding more out of it than you feel.

“I love you so much, Joel.” You mean to say it softly, fondly but it comes out as something more like a sob. He gasps and looks up at you, that’s when you notice the tears that have escaped your eyes. “This is so embarrassing…” Your hands wipe at your escapee tears furiously as Joel watches you in shock.

“Hey,” He starts to wipe some of your tears away alongside you, although much more softly than your own hands. “ S’not embarrasin’.” He places an endearing kiss to your lips. “I think it’s so fuckin’ cute. The cutest things I’ve seen in years, honestly.” 

You giggle at his exaggeration and kiss his cheeks. “I’m bein’ serious, baby.” He’s giggling too now, placing kisses all over your face, stopping every tear that slips out with his lips.

“I love you so much, Joel.” You take a deep breath as his kisses slow. “It feels like my heart is being choked, squeezed, and like thrown around in my chest whenever I’m with you. I don’t even have the vocabulary to explain how much I feel for you.” 

His eyes are wide and a bit watery as you speak. One hand is on the top of your head, running over your hair as you speak while the other is on your him, his thumb stroking over the skin, sometimes lifting to draw specific patterns. “I wish I had a way to make you feel what I feel toward you, Joel. It’s so fucking much. I feel like it’s gonna explode and pour out of every orifice.” He chuckles and kisses you again, this one feels more emotional, more loving, grateful, and comforting. 

“There you go, talkin’ all proper again.” He kisses you again shortly. “I- I feel the same way darlin’. Except I know even less words to use to explain it to ‘ya. Fuck I- I fuckin’ I wish I could tell ‘ya. You- You feel like- like my whole existence. If that makes sense… No, no it doesn’t, does it? Damn. I- Shit.” You place a hand on his face and make him look at you. 

“You don’t have to say as many things as I did. You’ve already shown me that you love me through your actions… through this. I didn’t even know it could be like that, Joel. That it could- could feel that… good. I didn’t know it was a thing, and then you came in- with all your love and softness, and you showed me a whole new side of everything. I already know… is what I’m trying to say. I know you love me, Joel. I just hope you know that I love you.”

A single tear slips out of his baby cow eyes and he quickly wipes it away with a smile. “I- I know, baby. Trust me, I know.” He smiles wider and brighter than you’ve ever seen, he’s blinding you with its beauty before laying back down on the bed next to you. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you onto him. 

“You’re gonna stay, right? Sleep in here with me?” You shake your head disapointedly against his stomach.

“Obviously, I’m staying here, Joel.” The sigh of relief he lets out almost breaks your heart. You place a few kisses on his belly for reassurance. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He chuckles at your words and sounds far away, sleepy, adorable. “Okay… Good. Good, I want you to stay… ‘M gettin’ tired though, honey.” As if on cue, a yawn makes its way up and out of your mouth. “Yeah, me too. Goodnight, Joey.”

He sighs, and you can’t see it, but a smile splits his face the moment he hears the nickname. “G’night, my love.”

thank you so much for reading!! please please please give any feedback you may have! I want it all! also if you liked it please take a look at my masterlist!

thank you for the feedback on the first 2 parts, i really appreciate it <3

okay so, these are the options i have so far. i'd really like to make the last part of this mini-series with content that y'all would like. If you'd like to see other stuff, pls comment them or send them through requests if you want to do so anonymously :)

these options include angst, fluff & smut.

minors/ageless blogs dni