#god i love him so much he was already prepared for the worst he's so familiar with grief he just knew. im so glad he didn't to lose buck | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

futureman · 11 months

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the way we fight

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: you and joel love taking your frustrations out on each other—in more ways than one

warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, drug use, canon-typical violence, slight spoilers for minor tlou 2 cutscene, jackson era, enemies to lovers, undefined age gap, sloooow buildup, smut, grinding, rough oral (male & female receiving)

word count: 6.7k

a/n: no idea how this got so long, but here we are! generally my fics are based on song lyrics, so this one goes out to my girl ari and social house. this honestly took a while to wrap my brain around and idk how the end got so filthy but alas, i really hope y'all enjoy! as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated 💕

It’s always an argument with him. He’s just so stubborn. Actually, Joel Miller might be the most stubborn man you’ve ever met. There’s never any room for disagreement or discussion with him—it’s his way or the highway. Half the time, you don’t even know what you’re fighting about, hurling callous, empty words at each other as if they don’t hurt. Immensely.

Maybe you really do genuinely hate each other. Or maybe it’s just for the fun of it.

It’s been like this for as long as you’ve known him, which, in hindsight, hasn’t even been that long. Probably a year? Year and a half? In all that time, you’ve never managed to crack his tough exterior and, as far as you know, no one else has, either.

The only things anyone knows for sure are that he’s Tommy Miller’s older brother and he’s got a daughter named Ellie. He hasn’t made a lot of friends here and it’s not hard to see why. He’s mean in a surly old man kind of way and rarely has anything nice to say to anyone—if he says anything at all.

Yet, somehow you still find yourself spending the majority of your time with him. It’s not something you do by choice. It’s a forced proximity thing.

You can’t tell if Tommy schedules you for patrols together because you’re the only one who hasn’t kicked up a stink about it or if he just thinks it’s funny to watch you both squirm. Most of the town thinks it’s hilarious, so you can only guess it’s the latter.

During your first few outings together, Joel wouldn’t talk to you unless it was absolutely necessary, and, even then, all you’d get was a grunt or some grumbled instructions. The silence got old pretty quickly. It wasn’t until you made your first mistake out in the field that he finally started communicating. Maybe a little louder than you’d hoped.

Now, Joel will pick a fight anywhere, usually over the dumbest shit. But his bark is worse than his bite—most of the time, at least.

On his worst days, his anger is explosive and it seems like he takes it out exclusively on you. It’s honestly a little ridiculous that you haven’t just asked Tommy to take you off his patrols already, but there’s a part of you that’ll never admit you actually kind of like your dynamic.

Not a lot happens in Jackson—it’s well-protected and even the community drama gets a little stale. Joel might be a dick, but he keeps things interesting, keeps you on your toes.

And it’s hard to ignore the fire in his eyes that makes you think he likes it just as much as you do.

It’s fucking freezing out and you haven’t even left for patrol yet before Joel’s muttering something condescending under his breath. Surprise, surprise—he’s in a bad mood and about to make it your problem. You throw him an unimpressed look over your shoulder, the best you can muster this early in the morning, and continue to saddle your horse.

“You wanna say that a little louder, Miller?”

He looks tired and annoyed and, god, you haven’t been awake nearly long enough for this shit. Today’s going to be trying enough as it is. You were assigned one of the longer routes and the clouds are already dark with the promise of rain or worse.

There are a few other patrol groups nearby gearing up to leave and their preparations suddenly slow, eyes darting between the two of you as if they can sense the impending argument. You barely notice their loitering, the small crowd inching forward to not-so-subtly eavesdrop.

“No, really, I’d love to hear to hear what you have to say,” you taunt him, hands settling on your hips. “Y’know, it’s really not like you to keep things to yourself. You sure you’re feeling alright today, old man?”

“Feelin’ just fine, sweetheart,” he grits through his teeth, rolling his eyes. “Just hurry your ass up so we can get this over and done with. I’m not tryin’ to spend any more time with ya than I have to.”

You quirk an eyebrow. Sweetheart? That’s a new one. It sounded sarcastic as hell and a little patronizing but, still, that’s not something Joel’s ever called you before. Useless and annoying, sure, but never sweetheart.

Your stomach swoops, but you force yourself to ignore it; that’s not even remotely something you want to analyze today.

“Uh, yeah…whatever,” you eye him strangely, and he abruptly looks away, shifting his focus back to checking his saddlebags. It’s like he’s purposefully avoiding your gaze, and it’s weird. He’s acting so fucking weird today.

Sparing him one last glance, you throw a leg over your horse and start toward the gate at a slow trot. You don’t bother waiting for him to catch up.

“What’s our first checkpoint?” you call over your shoulder, but he’s somehow already right behind you, his horse falling in line with yours.

“You should already know that,” Joel sighs, brow furrowed in what you can only assume is irritation. Oh, here it comes—the inevitable lecture. He does this every single time you're on patrol, whether you’ve done something wrong or not. You must’ve really pissed him off if you’re hearing it this early.

Except—he’s not berating you. Instead, he pulls a map out of his backpack. “Alright, look,” he says, leaning in closer so you can see. “This is us right here, and—,” his index finger traces a route from Jackson, winding along a road that passes through a small neighborhood, and lands on your first stop, located a few side streets off a main road, “—we should end up here in about an hour if the weather holds up.”

Nodding, you look up at him. You hadn't realized how close his face had gotten to yours, and your lips part around an involuntary gasp. His eyes drop to your mouth for a second too long before he pulls away, folding up his map and tucking it back into his pack.

You try to convince yourself that you imagined it, that Joel Miller would never intentionally look at your lips like he wants to kiss you, but you can still feel his warm breath on your skin and it’s affecting you more than you want to admit.

This is…not at all like your normal dynamic and it’s throwing you off. Joel hasn’t raised his voice once today and, at most, he’s only made a few snide remarks that weren’t nearly as bad as they usually are.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” you breathe out, creating a tiny puff of condensation in the air. “It doesn’t even feel like it's cold enough to snow, anyway. The worst we’ll probably get is some rain and we’ve ridden in way worse than that.”

All you get in response is a low grunt, and then he’s lifting the reins, leading his horse in the direction of your first checkpoint. You sigh. Guess you’re back to square one. You never thought you’d miss your spats, and can’t help but wonder what the hell happened to make him change his behavior so radically.

“Seriously, though, are you okay? You’re, like, really quiet today,” you prod, and his whole body tenses. He turns to you, expression angry, and it sends a shiver down your spine. There he is.

“Didn’t I already fuckin’ tell you I’m fine? What, you suddenly lose the ability to hear or somethin’?” He shakes his head in annoyance, and you’re glad he’s not looking at you anymore because you can’t suppress the grin that spreads across your face.

“This girl, I swear,” you hear him mutter as he trots away.

You don’t say anything to each other for the rest of the ride to the checkpoint. The crumbling attorney's office is basically the same as you remember from the last time you were here. It’s old, obviously, and musty, but it’s stocked with random provisions, like food and ammo, so patrol crews can replenish their supplies before heading out to their next destination.

There’s also a killer view of Jackson from one of the windows, and you get distracted looking out at the lights and mountains in the distance. It’s starting to flurry, so you drop your backpack on the floor and stick both hands out to catch some of the snowflakes in your palms. So much for rain.

“You dilly dallyin’ again? Just sign the logbook already so we can move the fuck on,” Joel’s voice startles you out of your reverie. Huffing, you turn away from the window, looking for the pen that’s supposed to be next to the notebook, but it’s nowhere to be found.

“You know what, asshole, you could’ve just as easily signed the damn thing yourself. You were there too, or are you getting forgetful in your old age?” you shoot back as you hunch down, getting on your hands and knees to search under the desk. You hear him scoff behind you.

You spot the pen towards the back, because of course it rolled that far, and bend down so you can reach out a little farther. Your fingers brush one end and then you’ve got it, sitting back up with your prize in hand. Looking over your shoulder, you just barely catch Joel’s eyes darting away from where you were a moment ago, basically puppy-posing on the floor. That’s…suspicious.

“The fuck? Were you just staring at my ass?” you ask incredulously. There’s no goddamn way. He snorts, arms crossed with an uncharacteristic smirk on his face, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

“You wish, sweetheart,” he says condescendingly, and there it is again. That fucking word. So, he’s calling you pet names and staring at your ass now? There’s something seriously off about him today and you want to know what his deal is.

“You wanna tell me why you keep calling me that? You’ve been acting weird as fuck all day and it’s giving me whiplash,” you glower at him, taking a seat at the edge of the desk and forgetting all about the logbook. He shrugs.

“Dunno what you’re talkin’ about,” he says simply, and you squint at him.

“Seriously, Joel? You've called me sweetheart twice today and now you’re checking me out,” you hop off the desk and walk over to where he’s leaning against the wall. “If I didn’t know any better…,” you glance down at his lips, moving closer, “I’d say you were flirting with me."

Well, that made him angry. "Fuck you,” he growls in your face, and his lips are soft where they accidentally graze your cupid's bow. He’s trembling now, fists clenched at his sides, and you think he’s about to push you away when he grabs you by the hips and shoves you against the wall. Your head lolls back and you laugh cruelly.

“Yeah, Joel,” you roll your hips into his and he grits his teeth, tightening his grip. “I think that’s exactly what you wanna do.”

But before you can go any further, there’s a crash just outside the door accompanied by a familiar sound that turns your blood to ice.

It’s unmistakable. The clicking, guttural and stuttered, is followed by a high-pitched shriek that echoes throughout the small space, and you both freeze. You look up at Joel, terrified, and he raises a finger to his lips, eyes telling you to be quiet or else.

There’s no way either of you can unholster your guns—and reload, in your case—without alerting it to your position. Joel reaches for the hunting knife strapped to his thigh, and you move to do the same, only to realize it isn't there.

Fuck, it has to be somewhere. Probably in one of the dozen random holsters you have attached to you right now.

Frantic, you pat at your sides and legs—anywhere it could be—as your panicked intakes of breath gradually increase in volume. A hand slaps over your mouth, and suddenly Joel is crushing your body against the wall, halting your movements.

"Quit," he whispers harshly, lips brushing the shell of your ear, and you nod quickly.

The creature abruptly changes course, jerking toward the open window, and that’s when you notice something familiar by its feet. It's—fuck, it's your backpack. And your knife is gleaming from where it sits, nestled in one of the side pockets.

Stupid, that was so stupid. If, by some miracle, this thing doesn't kill you, there’s no doubt Joel will once he realizes your mistake. His hand drops from your mouth and he glances back over his shoulder at the clicker, gripping his knife a little tighter.

He looks resolute, and it dawns on you that he’s about to make a move. It takes everything you’ve got not to grab onto his coat and pull him back to you as he slowly shifts away, but then something else stops him in his tracks.

Another screech rings out from the other side of the room, and now you know you’re fucked. There’s only one option left now. Either you run, or you get torn apart. He reaches down to take your hand in his, warring emotions of anger and fear in his eyes as he looks into yours, and squeezes; it’s now or never.

The path to the doorway you came through is somehow miraculously clear, and Joel takes off at a sprint, dragging you with him but, to his horror, you decide to do yet another stupid thing.

For reasons you can’t explain, you find yourself ripping your hand out of his, swerving to snatch your backpack from where it lies just a few feet from the clicker.

Joel is yelling, or at least you think he is, and you vaguely feel his blunt nails scratch the back of your hand as he reaches out to stop you, but he can’t. You’re moving on autopilot, can barely register your body moving at all, until your fingertips skim the strap of your pack and the clicker is shrieking in your face.

You don’t think you’ve ever been this close to one before, even dead, and it’s worse than you could’ve ever imagined. The world freezes for a moment and you freeze with it, unable to move or look away from the fungus erupting from its skull, teeth gnashing inches away from your throat.

And then you feel warmth—warm, strong arms wrap around your waist and tug harder and harder until you’re back out in the cold. Joel spots his horse a short distance away, likely spooked by the commotion, but you can’t see much farther than that. What was a gentle flurry less than a half hour ago has become a violent blizzard, and you’re both getting pelted by ice that burns as it scrapes across your skin.

There’s one horse—just Joel’s horse—but there’s no time to think about the fate of your own before his hands are on your hips, lifting you up and into the saddle, and he’s climbing on in front of you.

He urges his horse forward and you’re off without so much as a glance behind you, galloping away from danger and down a street that you realize you actually recognize.

“Joel,” you squeeze his waist and he ignores you. He’s shaking and it’s definitely not just from the cold. You can feel the anger radiating off of him in waves and it’s warranted. You fucked up big time. “Joel, turn right,” you say a little louder, and he’s still not listening. “Turn right! There’s a library up ahead, you have to turn now!”

He growls, and you think he’s purposely going to miss the turn until he’s yanking the reins to the right, nearly throwing you both off the horse.

“You better know what the fuck you’re doin’,” he all but shouts back, and you wrap your arms around his waist a little tighter.

“It’s safe!” you yell, struggling to speak loud enough for him to hear you over the wind. “Ellie’s been there before, loads of times, and she says it’s safe. “

And that’s all it takes to convince him.

The library’s completely boarded up and, with the wind howling against your backs, it takes more than a few hard tugs to yank enough of them off to get inside the lobby with Joel’s horse.

He hands you the reins before moving into the next room, crouching along the rows of aging books and knocked-over bookcases, and you peek in, watching him anxiously. Cracked bricks litter the ground, and he steps over a few as he crouches into place behind a broken book cart.

He picks one up and then shoots you a look, eyebrows lifting pointedly, and you realize he wants you to get back into the lobby, out of sight. You duck behind the wall, placing a soothing hand on his horse right as you hear the sound of the brick shattering against the ground, and wait. A few agonizing seconds pass before you hear him throw one more a little farther out, just to be sure.

When nothing startles or jumps out, Joel whistles and you know that’s your cue to come out from your hiding spot. Normally, that would piss you off immensely, him whistling for you like you’re a fucking animal, but you can’t find it in yourself to care right now.

You’re exhausted now that the adrenaline’s wearing off, and the only thing you want to do is curl up into one of the torn-up chairs in the corner and pass out until morning. But that’s not what Joel has in mind.

“Y’think you’re off the hook for the shit you pulled earlier?”

You sigh, head tipping back and thumping against the bookcase behind you. “Do we have to do this right now? Joel, I’m tired and hungry, and fucking cold, and I really don’t have the energy.”

“Seriously? Sure looked like ya had the energy when you were runnin’ straight into that clicker’s mouth,” he scowls, reaching down to grab something next to the book cart and throwing it at your feet. “Thought ya might want this back since you apparently decided it was worth more than your life.”

You inhale sharply through your nose, eyebrows pinching together. Joel…he—

It's your backpack.

You were so sure it got left behind when he saved you from that clicker and yet, there it is. You lean over to pick it up, but Joel kicks it out of reach before you get the chance. He looks livid and now, you realize, you’re about to get that lecture you dodged earlier tenfold.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Me? I'm not the one having an identity crisis! You’ve been nothing but distracting all damn day,” you scoff bitterly. “None of this would've happened if you hadn't had a complete personality makeover overnight.”

You can’t believe he…is he serious? There’s no way you’re taking the fall for this, not all of it. Yeah, you fucked up with the backpack, but Joel isn't entirely blameless, either. If you hadn’t been fighting again, you would’ve just signed the stupid logbook and moved on like you were supposed to.

"Yeah, alright, sweetheart. It's my fault you almost got us both killed. Maybe you’re forgettin’ I saved your goddamn life back there, somethin' I wouldn't have had to do if you hadn't gone and done something so fuckin’ stupid."

Sweetheart.

"Stop calling me that! I…fuck, Joel, I just don't get you. I get it—I know I fucked up, but…,” your voice cracks and you can feel your lower lip wobbling, but you can’t let yourself cry. That would only prove to Joel what he already knows—you’re weak. “I’m sorry, okay? What more do you want from me?”

He chuckles mirthlessly. “You really wanna know what I want from ya?” He crowds your space, leaning in slightly. His head tilts like he's going to kiss you, and your breath hitches. “I want ya to get your shit together and stop makin’ unnecessary mistakes,” he says cruelly instead.

Your jaw drops.

"No, you know what? Fuck this,” you seethe. “When we get back to Jackson, I’m telling Tommy to never put me on your patrols again. I can’t do this anymore.”

“Think I give a shit about that? Go ahead, you’d be doin’ me a favor!” he yells at your back as you storm away, and you flip him off over your shoulder. Behind you, he sighs heavily, sounding as worn out and frustrated as you feel.

What a load of bullshit. You don't deserve to be treated like this. There's a stark difference between the inconsequential arguments you normally have and whatever the hell that was.

And the worst part? It hurts so much more than you expected it to. Leave it to you to get attached to the asshole whose personal mission it is to make you miserable. This whole thing was fun while it lasted, but you meant what you said. You and Joel, it’s over.

You exhale wetly, tears still threatening to fall as you leave him behind in what the yellowing signs tell you is the romance section. Well, isn’t that ironic.

You quickly realize navigating the library in the dark is more difficult than you anticipated, even with your flashlight. Not even ten steps away from where you started, you trip over something protruding from the ground and almost land flat on your face.

Joel comes running over as you let out a frustrated noise and push yourself up onto your knees. His knife is at the ready like he was expecting danger but, no, it’s just you humiliating yourself even further. He lets out a relieved sigh, holstering his knife, but then just stands there glaring down at you.

“I’m fine, by the way,” you wave a hand from the ground. He shakes his head, reaching down to help you up, and his hand feels so nice in yours—big, strong, and calloused.

You curse yourself for still thinking about him like that, like anything at all, but you can't help it. And when his hand drops yours, it feels distinctly cold and empty.

Shaking it off, you aim your flashlight at the offending spot on the floor. “What is that, anyway?” you ask Joel as he crouches down to brush away some of the dirt and debris.

��A handle,” he mumbles, pulling out his knife again and digging it into a crack in the floor, tracing around what looks like…a door?

“Is that a trapdoor?” You lean over his shoulder to get a better look. He looks back at you and nods, looking a little less angry and a lot more concerned. “Well, should we check it out?”

Instead of answering you, he wrenches the door open and shines his flashlight into the opening. There’s a ladder leading down and you can hear something rumbling below that sounds like a generator.

“Stay here,” he eyes you sternly as he begins his descent down the ladder.

“Uh, yeah, that’s not happening,” you scoff, following him. The ladder’s longer than you expected, and once your feet touch the ground, you reach out to run your hands along the wall, searching for a light switch.

A few moments later, your fingers come across something vaguely switch-like and you flip it, a warm glow filling the room, emanating from about a dozen heat lamps hanging from the ceiling. Your eyes adjust and—

“No fucking way.”

Joel is silent beside you, and you glance over, his expression just as stunned as yours is. You step closer. “Is that…?”

“Weed,” he breathes out.

You didn’t mean to get this high. Really, you didn’t. But you're in a fucking grow room hidden beneath a library in some tiny, backwater town, and you almost just died. So really, what reason was there not to?

The blizzard’s still going strong outside and, at the very least, it’s nice and warm down here. There's also the added bonus of something fun to do while you wait it out.

…Yeahhh, so you might’ve found a mason jar full of already rolled joints between some couch cushions, literally just sitting there for the taking. What were you supposed to do? Not smoke them?

But what surprises you even more than the pot itself is that Joel is smoking it, too.

It’s cute how he coughs after every drag, eyes watering as you pass a joint back and forth. The air is thick with smoke and a strange tension that neither of you can really describe, but you’re not fighting anymore. Not yet, at least.

The couch you're sitting on is cozy and less tattered than the chairs upstairs, so you settle there for the night, sitting closer than you ever willingly have before. Enough time has passed that you’re beginning to realize neither of you plans on moving, either. That you’re actually enjoying each other’s company.

The warmth of him seeps pleasantly through your clothes, and he feels so solid and real against you. Unconsciously, you melt into his side, your fuzzy brain chemicals urging you to feel more, more of him, and he tenses only for a moment before lifting an arm to rest behind you on the back of the couch.

It's strange how readily he's accepting your touch now. With each drag, you feel a little braver and press more of your body into his, draping your legs across his lap and nesting your head in the crook of his neck. He goes boneless when you mouth damply at the skin just below his jaw, his throat rumbling under your lips as he lets out a ragged breath.

You’ve both loosened up so much since earlier. It’s an easy, comfortable sort of peace you’ve found down here, even after the horrors you experienced earlier in the day. Part of you wishes it could always be like this with Joel but, then again, that just wouldn’t be you and Joel.

Your relationship thrives on the way you fight, almost like you can’t exist together without the promise of battle. So, when the high wears off and the world feels less lazy and more dire, you’ll both remember with sharp clarity that you hate each other. The memories will fade away and the war will continue. That’s just how it is.

It’s a little sad when you think about it, but for at least a little while longer, you’ll still have this version of you and Joel. You’ll enjoy the way he feels pressed up against your body; the way he feels pliant and suggestible under your lips.

And you’ll ask the question that’s been eating away at you all day because right now, you’re positive your lips can convince him to do anything.

“Tell me why you keep calling me sweetheart,” you murmur against his skin. He freezes, clearly not expecting you to bring it up again. You lift the blunt to his lips and encourage him to inhale to calm his nerves. The smoke plumes from his nose like a dragon as he exhales, and you're enraptured by the way it swirls through the air before dissipating. He braces a hand on your thigh before responding.

"Well, I…uh—," he mumbles, his cheeks turning a deep shade of burgundy, and you can’t resist reaching out to stroke the heated skin with your fingertips. He breathes shakily as he continues, "I—had a dream about ya last night, and…you, uh—you were…"

He cuts himself off, and your mind goes fuzzy for a moment as you let that little bit of information sink in. So, Joel was dreaming about you last night…and now, he’s treating you so much differently. Calling you pet names, eyeing you up, touching you. It all makes sense—but now you need him to tell you everything.

"What was I doing in your dream, Joel?"

He meets your gaze, looking flustered and a little ashamed, and it's a far cry from the man who was yelling at you not even an hour or two ago.

"You, uh," he clears his throat, still hesitating. You bite your bottom lip in anticipation, sucking it wetly into your mouth, and his eyes darken. He lifts a thumb to your mouth, tugging your lip down just slightly, and you can see the moment his apprehension disappears. "You were on your knees for me," he murmurs. "Doin' such a good job, too, workin' that pretty mouth of yours."

You inhale sharply and his thumb drops, but his eyes never leave your lips. Gingerly, you pluck the joint still burning between his fingers and take one last deep drag before flicking the rest to the side and crashing your lips onto his.

God, they feel exactly like you thought they would, soft and a little chapped from the cold, but so fucking eager against yours. You hold his face in your hands, rubbing your thumbs along the roughness of his beard, and he groans as you exhale into his mouth, tasting the smoke on your tongue.

Sighing, you lean back slowly, heavy-lidded eyes roving over his face to take in his kiss-swollen lips and that beautiful burgundy flush. He's so pretty, and you can’t help but run your fingers through his thick, graying hair as he pants heavily below you.

You need to feel more of him, all of him, so you climb into his lap, straddling his hips and grinding down against where he's already straining in his pants. He grips you tighter in response, working you steadily across his hardening cock.

"Keep going,” you moan breathily. You're already so wet, and heat blooms in your belly every time your clit grazes the seam of his jeans. It's a foggy, hazy pleasure, what you feel when he speaks, and you're addicted to it. “Keep telling me about your dream—a-about my mouth…I wanna hear more.“

You feel rather than hear him growl low in his throat as he ducks his head down to your neck, sucking and biting bruises into your skin.

“Your mouth…so fuckin’ wet—s-soft and tight around my cock,” he sucks hard under your jaw, and you gasp. “Takin’ me all the way down, like I always knew you could.”

Your breath hitches, eyes rolling back. The thought of him dreaming about his cock down your throat makes your cunt pulse, and now you're positive you're soaking through his pants.

You bet he thinks about it when you're on patrol together, too—that when you're fighting like you've both got something to prove, he's thinking about shutting you up with his cock. Fucking your mouth to show you that what he says goes.

"M-more, Joel…ngh, fuck, I need more," you reach down to shove his shirt up so you can feel him, his stomach flexing and unflexing under your palms. He starts to buck into your clothed pussy faster, like he's fucking you through the fabric, and you whine pathetically as he tugs hard on your hair, yanking your head to the side.

"S’alright, n-needy girl, 'm gonna tell you exactly how I was fuckin' that sweet mouth of yours last night…h-how you were—," he groans raggedly in your ear, voice cracking, and you swear you can feel his heartbeat racing between your legs. "…c-chokin' and gaggin' around my cock while I was cummin' down your throat…"

He keeps giving you what you asked for, tells you all the filthy shit he wants to do to your mouth, and his hips start to stutter like he's bringing himself closer to orgasm with his own words. It would make a lot of sense—Joel's always loved the sound of his own voice, especially when it's directed at you.

But you can’t hear much of anything anymore aside from the sound of your own stuttered moaning, suddenly so, so close to hurtling over the edge with him. You’re sliding so easily over his cock now and you brace your hands on his shoulders as your thighs start to quake around his waist. He digs his fingers into the plush curve of your ass, pulling you down harder, but you squeeze his shoulders roughly to get his attention.

“Y-you—Joel, you can’t cum,” you whine into his neck, and he all but snarls in response. “No…no, no, no. Want you t-to fuck my mouth—you have to cum in my mouth—”

He abruptly yanks you off his lap, shoving you back onto the couch and wrenching your jeans and underwear down in two hard tugs.

You barely have time to let out a squeal before he buries his face in your cunt, honing in on your clit and sucking wetly. He flattens his tongue, circling once, twice, three times, and then you’re cumming with a loud exhale, gushing as you grind into his face.

Your pussy’s still pulsing, locking down around nothing, as you tug him off of you by his hair.

“Joel—jeans..o-off…now.” You help him push them down just enough to free his cock, and then your mouth is on him, sucking him down to the hilt.

His hips buck off the couch of their own accord and he groans pathetically as you gag around him. He’s petting your head and saying something raggedly above you, likely apologizing for hurting you, but it’s drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears.

Instead of pulling off to reassure him that you very much want him to keep gagging you, you guide his hands to bury themselves in your hair and squeeze his thigh, praying he gets the hint. His fingers tense against your scalp as he holds you in place and, yeah, he absolutely gets it.

Your head feels like it’s disconnecting from the rest of your body as he starts fucking into your mouth the way he was probably dreaming about last night. He’s just so fucking big, and you feel a weird sort of pride bloom in your chest at being able to take him like this.

Tears are streaming down your face from the effort and you’re drooling all over his lap but, fuck, if he wants to do this every time you patrol together, you’ll let him. You take back everything you said before—if Tommy ever takes you off Joel’s patrols, you’ll kill him.

His fingers start to tug harder, painfully at your hair and you can hear him moaning something above you, his words slurred and desperate.

“S-so fuckin’ good, sweetheart, you’re…ngh—fuckin’ perfect,” he grits through his teeth, breath hitching as you wrap your lips tighter around him, flattening your tongue along the underside of his length. “‘m gonna cum…fuck, fuck—need you t-to swallow it all, sweetheart… know you can do it…so goddamn good.”

Humming and swallowing around him, you reach up to cup his balls and he erupts, pumping thick cum into your mouth and down your throat. Deep groans are punched out of his chest with every spurt and you can feel his cock pulsing against your tongue.

There’s so much of it. You try your best to do what he asked, to be good and swallow everything, but it’s starting to leak out the corners of your mouth and down his cock. Slurping up as much as you can, you pull off with an audible pop and lick off the rest of the salty, white streaks remaining on his skin.

When your watery eyes finally meet his, he’s looking at you like maybe he really has been dreaming this whole time. He’s still a little dazed, from both the weed and the intense orgasm, and he reaches out to cradle your face in his hands almost as if to prove to himself that you’re real. It’s a surprisingly tender gesture that kind of makes your heart ache.

Your lips quirk up as you lean into his touch, aching to prolong the moment, and he leans forward to press a sweet kiss to them, mouth coaxing yours open to taste himself on your tongue. You whine softly as his tongue runs along your bottom lip, and then he pulls back, hauling you into his arms to lie back on the couch.

Those heat lamps feel unbearable now. You're both hot and sweating, chests heaving from exertion, but you still refuse to separate from each other. Your brain’s feeling a lot less foggy, so you’re probably coming down from your high, which means Joel is, too. The realization sends a pang of worry through your chest like you expect him to suddenly come to and push you away, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he pulls your back to his chest, positioning your bodies more comfortably before murmuring fondly in your ear, "You’re somethin’ else, y’know that?”

You breathe out a sigh of relief. Maybe you’ll get to keep this after all—and without sacrificing everything that makes you and Joel, well…you and Joel. You twist around to shoot him an unimpressed look, but the burgeoning grin on your face betrays you.

“What, you’re just figuring that out? Took you long enough.”

He scoffs. “Listen, sweetheart—“ But you gasp, cutting him off before he can finish his sentence. No, way. How are you just putting two and two together now?

“Wait…oh my god, wait—is this why you keep calling me sweetheart? Because it's what you called me when I was blowing you in your sex dream?” You’re grinning so hard it hurts. How the fuck didn't you notice that earlier?

There was plenty of time to work it out when you were all but fucking on the couch for the past hour. But then…he didn’t actually start calling you sweetheart until he was cumming, and the realization makes your cunt throb. You file that information away for now, but make a mental note to come back to it later—hopefully back in Jackson with Joel.

…who’s still mumbling irritatedly into your shoulder. You tilt your head back to press your lips under his jaw, and you're quickly learning that kissing that particular spot turns him to jelly.

“You can keep calling me sweetheart,” you start, thinking over your next words carefully. “But I’ve got conditions.”

“Oh, she’s got demands now,” you can hear the dramatic eye roll in his voice. You suck a bruise into his skin to stop the back sass and it works spectacularly.

“Oh, shut up. It benefits you too, asshole,” you glare up at him before continuing. “I want your dick in my mouth every time we patrol from now on. And next time, you have to fuck me.”

His fingers dig into your sides, and you’re pretty sure you just felt his cock twitch against your ass.

“…Y-yeah, I, uh. I can do that,” he stutters, suddenly demure, and it dawns on you how much you like seeing all these different sides of Joel. He’s been mean and angry, shy and tender, and so fucking sexy all in the span of a single day. It's not something you ever would've expected from him.

You used to think he was just some grumpy old man and that his one personality trait was being an obnoxious jerk, but tonight you were proven very, very wrong.

You pull his arms tighter around you, let yourself get lost in the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your back, and hum contently. You’ll have to thank Ellie and her weed-grower friend later.

“Y’know, I almost thought you were gonna say no more fighting,” he says after a few seconds of silence. You look up at him incredulously, and he chuckles.

“Nah, where’s the fun in that?”

thanks so much for reading! 🥰

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #joel miller

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hells-wasabii · 3 months

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So I came down with Covid yesterday :(

I was seeing if you were open to do one with Alastor and a sick reader? I don’t do requests often, this is so new to me💕❤️

Hi! I hope you’re feeling better by the time you read this! Covid isn’t fun at ALL, but I hope you enjoy the read!

Character: Alastor

Type: Headcanons+Drabble (Alastor x sick!reader, Fluff)

Alastor as a caretaker would honestly be a sight to behold. And he’s surprisingly good at it? Then again whenever his mother would fall ill he was right there to nurse her back to health, so he’s got a little bit of experience in that department.

Speaking of his mother, he would go out of his way to cook something for you, more specifically soups and the like that she would make for him when he was sick. Something full of nutrients to help you get back on your feet. When he would get sick as a child he had his mother to rely on, and now, you would have him. You were his partner after all. He couldn’t just leave you in such a state.

He would personally oversee that you’re well taken care of. Whether it be fresh linens for your bed or water to drink should you wake up thirsty. Whatever you needed, he would have it to you just as quickly as he could. It was odd seeing him so… nurturing, but then again the radio demon did have a habit of showing you sides of him that the rest of hell would never see.

You were sick, there was no doubt about that. You had been for nearly two days now. The first day hadn’t been that bad, at least at first. You didn’t even know it was possible to get sick in hell, and yet here you were, laid up in bed recovering from one of the worst fevers you’d ever experienced. It made you wonder if hell had some sort of super-flu or something of the like

It had quickly escalated to the point that it felt as if you could feel your bones. The second day you had spent much of asleep, a fact that had been a small relief on your aching body. That is until the fitful fever dreams came along. Oddly enough you found yourself trying to solve puzzles as a means to break the fever. It never worked.

The only thing that really kept you grounded when you were conscious had been the chills that left your muscles aching. Of course, you knew that sickness couldn’t kill you in hell, especially not a sinner, but by god did it feel like you were dying.

Everything had been a haze up until a couple of hours ago.

You had already decided by that point that the only thing worse than actually being in hell was being sick as hell in hell. But you did count yourself lucky, you did have one hell of a caretaker, after all. Groggily you opened your eyes to look over at the demon reading in the plush armchair in the corner of your room. You’re not sure how exactly he knew that you were awake, but the radio demon lifted his gaze to meet yours not even moments later. You noticed his smile softened just a bit before he spoke.

“Glad to see you’re awake, darling.” The radio demon said gently, sliding a bookmark between the pages of his book and setting it down on the seat of the chair as he got up. “Give me a moment to fetch you something to eat, I imagine you’re quite famished. I’ve prepared a soup I know you’re just going to love, my mother's recipe!”

The soft lull of a radio playing music from your bedside table met your ears. You thought you could recognize that song, you were sure it was one you had heard Alastor humming before. It brought a smile to your lips. You decided that you quite liked that song, as well.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin imagine #hazbin headcanons #alastor x reader #alastor headcanons #alastor imagine #alastor

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istoleyoursk1n · 3 months

Note

Hi can you do halsin Gale and Astarion with a very explicit and flirty paladin s/o who looks super stoic and serious please?

Like they’re there standing stoic and menacing and then whispers in their ear the dirtiest pick up line ever?

Like I think they’d have a funny reaction!

Feel free to refuse ofc! Thanks anyways!

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

How would Halsin, Gale, and Astarion react to a paladin who looks stoic/strict only for them to be an explicit and flirty?

(Damn, reminds me of my PaladinLMAO)

: ̗̀➛ ASTARION

“Oh, darling, and just when I thought you were as dense as a brick wall. I never could have guessed that beneath all that was a cheeky little flirt. All that dirt coming out of such a filthy mouth, you ought to have someone clean it out for you, my sweet.”

He was the one being the flirty ass at first, hitting on you in every teasing way he could think of with the hopes that perhaps someday he’d get a reaction out of you for his own amusement.

You never seemed to comment on his “advances” at first, you remained as stern as usual with little but a side glance to offer.

Probably got personally offended each time his usual charms failed but he was persistent. More so because he wanted to prove that he could truly seduce even the most stoic of hearts.

He made it his personal mission to make you crack, but along the way, he may or may not have fallen for you. Regardless, the realization absolutely horrified him.

Perhaps he just has the worst luck ever or you finally started to begin your master plan of turning the tables against him but nevertheless, he wasn't prepared at all for what you had in store for him.

He was already taking quite the liking to you, so the moment you began whispering such depraved yet smooth words into his ear, he was shocked and speechless for the first time in years.

His mind was practically breaking apart as you laid out every filthy thing you had in mind. He truly couldn't tell if this was utterly fucked or if he was somehow into it.

You would be the sole reason a tint of color finally appears in his otherwise undead skin. The tint being a bright shade of red of course.

He goes from being startled, angry, confused, flustered and then eventually hitting you right back with a little pick up line of his own once he’s finally calmed down.

Now both of you end up teasing and flirting with each other as sneakily as possible, both of you trying to outdo the other in terms of who could fluster whom the most.

: ̗̀➛ GALE

“I…oh gods, love, you truly don't understand the things you do to this heart of mine. Of all the weaknesses I could have possibly gotten, you are one I’d welcome with open arms. I have stood proud amongst a Goddess but for you? I’d fall to my knees.”

He was slightly intimated by you at first by how stoic you appeared to be. You seemed like a person who’d prioritize business and work above all else, repelling anyone with nothing more than a glare.

He wasn't even sure how to approach you, he was already admiring you from afar but he feared that you would have never felt the same. Not when it felt as if your heart was locked within walls of stone.

He tried to shoot his shot once or twice, but they were always met with a few words of acknowledgment or even worse, a mere nod.

As much as he wished to simply move on from his utter fixation on you, he can't help but pine. You’re something he's grown to truly desire in ways he could hardly express.

However, one way or another, every little attraction he’s felt for you thus far is revealed by him. Completely exposing just how smitten he truly is by you and perhaps that single moment of true vulnerability is what finally made you snap.

Pull him close and abruptly whisper every depraved fantasy and dirty pickup line you've thought of just for him and he’d die. I mean, melting right then and there into a puddle of shame.

For a man who talks too much, he suddenly becomes oddly quiet, his eyes wide with a certain gleam of helplessness that makes him look all the more exposed to you.

For once in his life he’s stuttering his words, barely even able to hang onto a sentence without having to take a moment to breathe or silently whimper out in a mix of embarrassment, confusion, and frustration.

Dropping one of your pickup lines would be just enough to have this man in a chokehold. Truly. It’s one of the only ways to actually silence him.

He’s not one for pickup lines but he’d try his damn best to voice out his admiration for you similar to how a poet would describe their one and only muse. Through each sweet whisper, you dare utter, he falls deeper and deeper in love with you.

: ̗̀➛ HALSIN

“My heart, I beg of you. Each word, each whisper, even the soft tingle of your breath against my skin- you are a walking temptation that I so longingly wish to taste. My blood runs wild when you are near and I fear what I may do to you if you if you continue on.”

He was hardly bothered by the fact that you seemed a tad bit uptight. He has met far too many people similar to you and he’s learned better than to judge someone based on appearances alone.

Doesn't change the fact that he was in fact attracted to you.

The thing is, he respects you too much to ever make a move. At least, not for a while. Most conversations you’d have with Halsin were of the friendly sort at first, prioritizing the mission at hand before anything else.

However, in truth, the way his eyes practically brightened and his breath ever so subtly quivered when you approached was something you could have slowly picked up on.

He eventually slides very discrete hints about his attraction toward you, simply testing the waters to see if you would reciprocate. However, he truly never expected you to actually take the bait.

Before he could even properly make a move on you, you were already whispering every one of your sweetly depraved desires into his ear, catching him completely off guard.

He knew that there must have been more beneath your hardened exterior but he would have never suspected this. But is he complaining? Absolutely not.

But do be careful when and where you decide to whisper such things to him because you may or may not be seconds away from being utterly ravished by one bear of a man against the nearest surface.

Do so in public spaces where it's safe to tease him, giving you the freedom to watch as his breath heaves and his voice breaks just by the smoothened words coming out of your dirty mouth.

Nevertheless, he’s absolutely obsessed with your little flirty remarks, said remarks being enough to fluster him instantaneously. All the lovers he had taken in his life and yet he had never met one who could madden him as much as you do.

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 headcanon #bg3 headcanons #bg3 x reader #bg3 astarion #bg3 gale #bg3 halsin #astarion #gale #halsin

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desos-records · 1 year

Text

the moments in the Lockwood and Co show that really break my heart are the ones where Lockwood’s armor cracks. god bless the actor, his expressions are so subtle but convey so much.

you see it a little when he’s asking Lucy if she’ll take the job (if she’ll stay), then a little with Kipps (telling Lucy not to stay), a bit when his charming words, a weapon as real as his rapier, fail completely on Barnes

but the first real break happens when Lucy’s possessed because he’s completely unprepared for this and it has nothing to do with the ghost and everything to do with how she’s touching his face and how she’s looking at him (like she loves him, like she means it when she says that). and worse, how she’s asking him not to hurt her (he’s afraid he will one day)

then again when Barnes tells Lockwood to fire Lucy (that he won’t be able to let her stay), probably because there’s no one to see his face. his mask shoots right back up as soon as he turns around.

and again when Lucy threatens to quit

“we need you [I need you].”

“why?”

“because [it’s too soon to tell you this] because you’re [someone I already can’t stand the thought of losing] you’re Lucy Carlyle [and you make everything better]”

you see it a little after they blow up the well, but it looks more like a strange sort of relief than a break (Lucy and George are safe) and all he needs is a little grounding (holding Lucy’s hand). the real one happens when Fairfax calls his bluff and points a gun at him, not because of the gun, not really, but because his words can’t protect him (but Lucy can)

when he apologizes to Lucy for yelling at her (hiding how rattled he was by George’s comment about his feelings for her), his armor doesn’t break so much as he sets it down on purpose this time. he can’t stand the thought of hurting her and if he has to come out from behind his mask to make amends (if that’s what it takes for her to stay), he will

there are cracks all over his armor when Winkman threatens him (because his words mean nothing here), but it shatters when he threatens Lucy. he’s begging this man to kill him for the chance that Lucy lives. and oh, when Winkman says he’ll kill Lockwood first so he won’t have to watch her die (his words don’t just fail to protect him, they fail to protect her)

and you can see that part of him wants to set it down when Lucy asks him why he was so so quick to die for her, but he just managed to pull it back together and the wound is too raw. he understands that she’s angry with him (and he cannot stand that), but I’m not sure he understands why. because it doesn’t occur to him that she cares about him too (that she cannot stand the thought of losing him). all he can process right then is that Lucy’s alive and she’s angry with him, but at least she’s safe now

from the beginning he’s constantly trying to make sure she’s safe, but he’s more and more obvious about it. it isn’t George saying Lockwood’s in charge, not her, that gets him moving (he could barely sit still as it is), it’s the reminder that she’s in danger and he’s not there to make sure she’s safe. he was fully prepared to break down that basement door if it meant rescuing her. he grounds her the best way he knows how (the way his hand runs down her forearm before he holds her hand) and tells her

“we’ve got you now [I’m here].”

“you’re safe now, okay? you’re with us. [I’ll make sure you’re safe].”

there’s still more hairline fractures when he sees Lucy with Kipps, when he sees her with Fittes. which is why he gives her the necklace. the thought of her maybe choosing someone else sends him running to tell her how important she is to him (as clumsy as it is) and ask her to stay. it’s not as outright as before because it’s not just them, it’s everything he’s threatened by

“I can’t compete with this [with someone else for your favor]”

the worst of it, of course, is around the auction. before it starts, the DEPRAC agent sees right through him, giving Lockwood a painful reminder of his age (which he tries to act above) with one hand

and when he and Lucy are fighting, he pushes her away, would’ve charged in there alone, but she stays (it’s much too real now). she calls him out and his armor fails him, but he still can’t seem to process her point. he thinks just being around him (much less getting close to him) will hurt her. failing to understand that losing him would hurt her (and it is far too late to turn back)

and then after, when the DEPRAC agent dies and Lockwood is so quick to blame himself, it isn’t just a break. he loses all of it. his center is on full display, his fear and his bleeding heart. he can barely stand.

he still reaches out to Lucy to ground himself (because when he can’t protect himself, she does) and she’s so forceful with her feelings for him. she’s not gently touching his face, but holding his head and jarring him back to present (which is the real way Lucy loves). he can’t hold onto her properly or even look at her, but she’s the one who gives him back his armor. she presses their foreheads together and he takes a breath and he starts to build it back up

it’s ramshackle and unsteady, but it’s back by the time they step out of the car. it’s still nothing against Lucy. and he realizes here, as she’s walking away from him, what she’s been trying to tell him

so by the time he quietly steals into the kitchen, he’s left it behind again, because he’s learning that he doesn’t need it with Lucy (it’s hardly protection if it’s hurting her). this is his center too, the part full of love, and it’s no mistake that it happens in the kitchen, the center of their house. and he’s more honest than he’s ever been

“don’t give up on me.”

“the bottom of the thames used to be a far more appealing place to be.”

“and really no one would have cared.”

“but now... [now there’s you and you care and I won’t hurt something you care about].”

and of course it does come back during the final fight (it is a survival instinct after all) and when he’s collapsing, in pain, afraid (old habits don’t go away overnight). but Lucy and George push back before he goes too far

“this isn’t how you die.”

“how do you know?”

“we won’t let you.”

“never.”

he’s in a place where he can start healing (now that the wound’s been cleaned out), which is why he opens the door. because, yes, his armor is useful, but he doesn’t need it with George and Lucy

#thank you for coming to my tedtalk #lockwood and co #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #lockwood and lucy #locklyle #george karim #george cubbins #lockwood netflix #lockwood and co netflix #She speaks!

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lunargrapejuice · 1 year

Text

drunk confessions

alhaitham x fem!reader | 3k words

warnings: drunk alhaitham, a bit of unwanted touching from another character

the unpredictability of love was perhaps alhaithams worst enemy, at least when it came to you, and as he watched your skin flush under the gaze of another man that was more evident than ever.

he's forgotten why he even came out this way, if he had been seeking you out like he often did or was just trying to get his mind off of you before he spotted you in the distance, wearing that flowy dress that he can’t get enough of, accompanied by another scholar who stood much too close to you, who caressed and grabbed your arm to get you to look at him before leaning toward your lips. alhaitham didn’t stick around to watch you kiss the man. he hadn’t prepared himself for the feeling of tightness in his chest as he walked away or the deep breaths he’d need to take all the way back to his office to try to stop it, though it was to no avail in the end. this annoying lick of flames that kept his chest feeling annoyingly uncomfortable at the thought of another man taking you as their own didn’t disappear simply because he had walked away.

he had struggled, or maybe it was more so avoided, processing the fact that he had indeed fallen in love with you and even after he came to the conclusion of love, he still chose to do nothing about it. love was everything he was not; irrational, illogical, the act of following one’s heart. and you were..

kaveh had once told alhaitham that he couldn’t understand why someone as bright and lovely as you would want to be around someone with such an unlikeable personality, who never saw anything for its true beauty but instead at face value and even then found them unnecessary. you found beauty in everything and gave everyone the kindness he had come to adore, even if he thought most were not deserving of your caring nature. but that never stopped you from being around him, never stopped you from enjoying the peaceful silence as you read books side by side or walked around the city and pointed out the worldly beauties he had not cared to note until he met you. you had blushed at his bone dry teasing and fought with him many times trying to justify such lovely things and why they were important to life. he loved to fluster you, to rile you up, see that pout on your lips and the determination in your eyes as you tried to rationalize that which wasn’t rational at all. but even more than that, he loved to see you smile and a part of him wondered if someone with such a cold, seemingly unfeeling, personality like his own could continue to make you smile.

as irritated as it made him feel, as he sits in his office chair and runs a hand through his hair, he can’t help but think, would the man you were with today be able to keep you smiling and happy in ways he could not?

“gods don’t you look to be in a terrible mood,” kaveh voice breaks alhaitham from his thoughts. apparently he had been so caught in them he had failed to hear his roommate burst through the door or even walk in until he spoke and made himself comfortable on the chair in front of his desk. “want to talk about it?”

“get out.”

“now hold on! i may have a better suggestion and i think you’ll like it,” kaven smiles mischievously and alhaitham already knows what he’s about to say. “want a drink instead?”

“fine but you’re buying.”

your palm stung from the impact against the cheek of the man who had tried to force himself on you. even minutes after walking away, with your chest in knots and your eyes full of unshed tears of anger, you could still feel the tingle of pressure throughout your fingertips. just who did he think he was trying to kiss you unprovoked in the middle of the street like that?! archons you hated arrogant scholars who tried to take what they wanted without actually hearing your own words simply because they thought they were above you.

“my position at the akademiya will make a comfortable life for you. i know i could make you a happy housewife.”

blah blah blah.

it was all pointless drivel when your heart already belonged to someone else, another scholar who’s position in the akademiya never mattered to you. being the scribe never swayed your feelings, was never even a component as to why you fell in love with him and he would certainly laugh at the idea of making you a housewife. but it didn’t matter because you have never confessed your feelings to him and you aren’t sure you ever would.

surely he would find love a waste of time, unnecessary to his own goals. and even if he didn’t think that way about love, didn’t he deserve to be with someone of his same status, someone who could share his wealth in knowledge? the fact he was a genius didn’t escape you and it only made sense that he deserved to be with someone who could share that with him or at least be on a similar level but you didn’t feel like you quite met that bill. so you’d kept your mouth shut and held down the lid of your affections for him, even if it did spill out from time to time when you couldn’t help but reach out to touch him or caught yourself staring at him for longer than you should have.

sometimes you wished to let it all out even though you knew it meant he’d leave your life, to spare you both- it was the most logical action after all- and that was the last thing you wanted. but as you lock the door to your apartment and flop onto the couch face first into a decorative pillow you wonder, had spoken how you felt about him if maybe it could have been him confessing his feelings and trying to kiss you today.

you both hate and love the thought; it’s nothing more than a silly daydream but it was one that made your heart flutter nonetheless.

bang bang bang

the loud thumps on your door draw your attention away from your book and to the clock hanging on the wall. your eye twitches when you see the time, it's well past midnight and the moonlit night shining through the window also says as much. who the hell is coming to your door this late and why are they being so damn loud?!

placing a pressed flower bookmark on the page you were on, you leave the book to rest on the coffee table and go to give this person a piece of your mind and a lesson in the manners of which a person can come to someone’s house unannounced this late into the evening. but as you open the door and are met with seafoam eyes flecked with amber and the tall shadow of alhaitham engulfing your figure, any words you had got caught in your throat and were swallowed to join the butterflies that were doing somersaults in your stomach and the running thoughts that took over every inch of your body.

“y/n..” your name leaves his lips slow and you can smell the alcohol on his breath from here. it’s only then do you notice the glossiness of his eyes and the emotions you can’t quite make out behind them or how he slumps against the door frame, as if he’s using it to keep himself up right.

“let’s get you some water,” you say with a reassuring smile, some kind of attempt to help ease whatever is going on inside his mind that brought him to your door this late at night, and drunk of all things but your questions to why he’s here and what he’s doing this drunk could wait, at least for now.

as if your heart wasn’t already beating like crazy, it almost jumps right out of chest when you put your arm around his middle to help steady him on your walk to the couch and he wraps his arm around you, the muscles of his torso flexing against your hand and side. his grip on you is hardly for support, it seems he can walk fine for the most part but his arm around you is still tight, pulling you so close there’s barely an inch between your bodies.

with his strength, strength a ‘feeble scholar’ didn’t need in the slightest, he pulls you onto the couch with him. embarrassed to be almost on top of him, you avoid his eyes as you move a bit farther away but he doesn’t let you go far. the warmth of his fingers trail from where he held onto you, up your spine and to the side of your neck. warm calloused fingers rest there, feeling every hard thump of your heart and the heat that spreads throughout your whole body but he doesn’t comment or tease you about it. when you finally meet his eyes again, there’s no hiding his are staring directly at your lips.

your face feels so hot under this kind of attention from him, you don’t need to look in a mirror to know you’re flushed a bright shade of red but you couldn’t stop it even if you tried. not with the way he held you with such tenderness and looked at you with enchantingly soft eyes and what you now realize may be sadness shining through the cracks.

“s-stay here, i’ll go get you-“

you don’t get a chance to escape to the kitchen to regain your composure or even finish your sentence before he interrupts you. “does he make you happy?”

confused by his question and the hurt in his tone, your body stills. unable to stop yourself from wanting to comfort him, your hands rest on his arm, your fingers soothing over his skin. “what are you talking about? does who make me happy?”

he grumbles, as if hating to think about whoever it was he was talking about. “that man…” he looks just as muddled as you trying to remember who this man was. “the one who kissed you today.” his fingers resting on your neck tighten their grip, not enough to hurt but enough to tell you how urgent it was you tell him. you’re shocked he had seen what happened earlier but if he thought you had kissed him.. he must not have seen it all. before you can reply and clear the air between you, if you could even find words to speak, the pad of his thumb runs along on your bottom lip, gently swiping across it and back again. you can’t think, can hardly breath but all of it, all of your brain function and answers to his question are taken from you when he leans in close, his silver hair tickling your face, his heated breath fanning your already burning skin and says, “i wanted to be the only one to kiss your lips.”

it’s quiet for a long moment, only the sound of his heavy breaths and your heart beating rapidly filling your ears as he keeps you impossibly close. all this time had he felt the same way as you? your mind races with memories of these last few months when you’ve found your way to his side; times he made you smile, the moments you reached out to touch him and he didn’t pull away, when you swore you caught him staring back at you, even if it was only for a split moment.

“but if he makes you happy.. makes you smile..” his words trail off but he doesn’t let you go, doesn’t move from the proximity of your face. you’re so close your chests are nearly touching with every deep breath you both take.

“i didn’t kiss him,” you finally reply and his desperate grip on you relaxes, a sigh of relief escaping past his lips. “honestly.. his advances towards me weren’t all that consensual..”

quickly enough to give any normal person whiplash, he pulls away from you and stares at you more seriously than he ever has before, the amber of his eyes burning with a fierce fire. “did he touch you? i -”

“didn’t you hear me ‘haitham?” you reassure him, squeezing his arm gently and offering him a sweet smile. “i said i didn’t kiss him. he tried but i gave him my answer in the form of a quite lovely handprint to the face. some of my best work if i do say so myself.” you chuckle at the thought, how proud you felt of yourself for not letting him get away with touching you unwarranted like that and trying to push you into something you made clear you didn’t want.

“that’s my girl.” he says it so casually, like you truly were his and yeah, maybe you weren’t officially, you had never agreed to that with him, but your heart belonged to him all the same.

in your boldness, under the smile of relief and amusement he gave you, a smile that made you even weaker to the handsome man before you, you find your bubbling feelings can’t be held back and let a little more than you ever have before slip through. “i only want you to be the one kissing me too, you know.”

once again he pulls you close. this time resting his forehead on yours while his thumb caresses your cheek and cradles your face, your own hands resting against his chiseled chest, feeling the beating of his heart under your palm. the strands of your hair mix with his, your shared breaths becoming shallow and bated. it's hard to think straight, to not become a complete melting mess in his arms and keep your own feelings from coming out completely to a drunk person who likely wouldn’t even remember this in the morning.

you want so badly to kiss him, to feel the lips you’ve been yearning for against your own but the thought of his drunken regret, that he may not even remember this in the morning, that you may be getting your hopes up, stops you from closing the distance.

“not tonight ‘haitham.. not while you’re drunk,” of course he listens, doesn't kiss you despite how badly he wants to, his fingers flexing against you to stop himself. “but if you still feel the same way tomorrow, if you still want to then, you know where to find me.”

in the peaceful silence you often find with him, he rubs the tip of his nose against yours and keeps your head gently pressing against his. you don’t know how long you stay in that position, basking in this unusually soft and needy display of affection from him and as much as you’d like to stay here for longer, the clock continues to tick and you know you should get him to bed.

moving your hands from his chest to his shoulders, you pull away and feel your heart skip many beats at his response to pull you closer, to not let you go. “come on, let’s get you home.”

luckily he doesn’t live too far and even though he kept you pressed against his side, you didn’t have to help him walk all that much. you find kaveh drunkenly sleeping against the door when you arrive at the house, guess that explains why alhaitham was drunk, and with a knowing smile alhaitham pulls out both house keys from his pocket.

once inside, kaveh now passed out on the couch half covered under a blanket you found nearby, you get alhaitham on the other couch, helping him take off the headphones he usually wears so he can sleep more comfortably before pulling a blanket over him. he looks cute like this, you think. so unlike his normal stern, cool and calculating self and yet still the same man you fell in love with. you hope you get to see more of it, though possibly sober instead of drunk next time.

once he’s comfortable you go to leave, but before you can even take a step away from him, long fingers wrap around your wrist. you turn to face him and see a flash of that determination to see through anything he sets his mind to flash behind his tired eyes.

“y/n… i’ll come for you tomorrow.”

you try not to fuss, not to look eagerly at every set of footsteps that come your way that next morning. you know there’s a possibility it was all just a drunk mistake or that he hadn’t meant it, not that you think him a liar but alcohol did far worse things to people than make them say things they didn’t mean.

still, the way he acted.. what he said.. you wanted it all to be true and deep in your heart you felt like it was. so as patiently as you could, you waited and went about your day with thoughts of alhaitham lingering in the back of your mind. the way he held you last night, the words he professed at the thought of you being with another man, how he called your name like it was the only word he wanted to say.

you heard it over and over in your mind until you swore you heard it for real and with a racing heart, you turned around to see the man you loved making his way towards you, the early afternoon light at his back, that same determination from last night in his now clear, well rested, eyes.

“why do you look so surprised to me?” he asks, never stopping his long strides that close the distance between you. even when there aren't any more steps to take, he brings you closer to him. one hand snaking around your side to the small of your back, pressing you against his chest, while the other gently moves through your hair to hold the back of your neck, his words whispered against your lips as you lifted on your toes to reach him. “i told you i’d be coming.”

genshin impact masterlist | main masterlist

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #al haitham #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #alhaitham #genshin impact fluff #al haitham fluff #alhaitham fluff

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lol2345l · 3 months

Text

EVENTUALLY - finnick odair x f reader

summary : finnick finally gets the love of his life back after her games, only to be met with a fate worse than ever.

warnings : angst,fluff,mental illness,argument, bruises, !talks of sa, breakups,heartbreak,trauma

❛ ━━━━━━・❪🐚❫ ・ ━━━━━━━━━━ ❜

Finnick considered himself somewhat lucky. Even after Snow had taken away his own body,his family he still spared you. You were the only person he had left and he would sure as hell do whatever it took to keep you safe. You were the warmth he needed and craved for.

Until the 68th hunger games. He knew there was only so much he could do to try and save you. He tried so hard, let you cry it out, trained you and taught you everything he knew. He never stopped apologizing until you came back to him. But that wasn’t you.

It wasn’t you who came out of that arena it was just a shell. He held you, helped you through nightmares and stayed by your side through it all.

“Finnick you can go home…I’ll be fine.” You assured him. He knew you didn’t want to burden him with everything especially because you knew what he goes through.

He sighed deeply, sitting back down next to you. “I want to stay with you, please let me help you.”

That was a phrase he repeated daily. And he learned it from you. It was something you would whisper to him when he would come back from a rough night in the capitol as you held him in your arms as if he would slip away.

Months passed by after your victory tour and Finnick’s thoughts were eating him alive. He could still hear Snow’s words ringing through his head. “Desirable” he hated that word. And he hated it so much more when he came back home only to hear you mutter it repeatedly.

“Honey…” His words echoed through the halls of his, and now your house aswell. You couldn’t stand living alone.

Picking yourself up you quickly got up leaving your shared bedroom only to be met with Finnick’s frightened expression. And you knew that he knew.

It felt like the universe and the gods wanted him to suffer. Each time things slowly started getting better he would be hit by something. And now as he stood there frozen in front of you, he turned to your room and his eyes widened in an inhumane way.

A bouquet of white roses.

You were barely even able to stand. Shaking as you gripped tightly onto him.

“I can’t Finn..I can’t.” You cried out for hours. He was ready to march to the capitol himself and demand to take on more customers just for them to leave you alone. But this was it. Snow knew you only had Finnick and he used that against you. And knowing you Finnick knew you agreed right away.

❛ ━━━━━━・❪🐚❫ ・ ━━━━━━━━━━ ❜

It had been the worst couple of months of your life. Even after the games and everything you ever went through you were sure this was the worst. But you had Finnick there, every time you came back home from the capitol he knew exactly what to do. When to touch you, what you needed and he would prepare everything in advance.

Finnick couldn’t help but blame himself. Your popularity increased significantly making the others, including Finnick himself less wanted. Although he still went from time to time there was a part of him that was glad to have more freedom. But he shut that down quickly knowing how it was affecting you.

It was a particularly rough night in the capitol, walking back to the victors village slowly knocking on the door of your shared home Finnick opened it so quick causing you to flinch slightly which made every part of your body hurt.

His heart broke. You were already sobbing and falling into his arms. He held you gently noticing the bruises peeking through the back of your dress.

“It hurts so bad Finn…” you managed to mumble through your sobs.

“Where honey?” he tilted your chin so you could look him in the eyes.

“Everywhere…this shouldn’t be allowed!” you yelled with every ounce of energy you had left.

You sat there just looking into each other’s eyes. Yours were bloodshot red and his glossy refusing to fall apart in front of you now.

He gently tried placed his hand on your back causing you to wince and let out another choked sob.

You stayed there together all night. His back rested against the couch as your head was in his lap. Running his hands through your hair whispering to you reassuringly

“I won’t let them do this to you, i will fight for you. I promise.”

It took a while but you fell asleep. Shortly after you he was asleep aswell, holding your hand tightly. He couldn’t let you slip away from him.

This went on for quite some time. So on his next trip to the capitol Finnick marched up to president Snow begging for him to let you go for at least a little while. He tried to negotiate his eyes glossy once again but only earning a cold chuckle from Snow.

“Mr Odair, I’ve never had a victor do so well. Besides you of course.I’m afraid I can’t do that,you know the rules. Don’t you boy?” He smiled once more,that disgusting smile showing that he was pleased.

It made Finnick sick to his stomach. Clenching his fists he stepped a bit closer to Snow’s desk but still kept a safe distance.

“I will do anything possible if it means she gets some peace. Anything.” He didn’t care what would happen to him anymore, you and your safety were his priority. He couldn’t let this break you anymore.

Tilting his head to the side slowly, President Snow turned on the screen behind him showing a photo.

It was you and Finnick, dancing during the last night of your victory tour. He remembers that night very clearly, oh and how beautiful you looked in the ocean blue dress.

“What does this have to do with my proposal..?” Finnick knew this wasn’t going to end well but was prepared for anything. He was prepared to give this evil man his all just for you.

Another chuckle echoed throughout the room. Finnick couldn’t help but clench his fists even tighter, threatening to collide them with Snow’s face.

“You said anything…correct?” Snow uttered once again giving Finnick that sly smile.

He gulped just nodding his head unsure of what would come out of his mouth next. He glanced back at the screen tears threatening to spill, but he was stronger than that. He couldn’t let this man win.

“As much as we love our newest victor, you will always be a capitol favorite Mr Odair. But l have been informed that you asked certain questions about bruising to your shared customers? You know that’s not allowed. It makes our well paying customers feel as if they did something wrong. And we wouldn’t want them to be unhappy and dissatisfied now would we?”

As if they did something wrong? Them paying for your company is wrong. Everything about this entire trade system is wrong. He wanted to scream it in Snow’s face but he stayed silent.

Finnick opened his mouth slightly to say something before going back to his stern expression. “I just wanted to know how that was allowed,she had some bad bruising...” He managed to mutter out unable to keep calm anymore.

“Well it is not your place to question it, and you must stop from now on.” Snow gave back the same stern look.

Nodding his head once more Finnick stepped back and put on his fake capitol persona smile.

“I understand, I’ll stop. But my proposal-” He was stopped quickly by Snow.

“No my boy, I’m afraid you don’t understand. Young love, so fragile isn’t it? Quite distracting aswell…especially when you have a very demanding job.” He emphasized the “demanding” part which made Finnick clench his fists tighter than ever before, knuckles turning a pale white color.

“You will stop seeing her and talking to her, as well as moving her out of your home. Unless of course you want to never see her again, perhaps then her house could be made use of maybe even given to another future victor. But I am sure that’s something you wouldn’t want.” He smiled once more.

He won.

That was it, the one person that kept Finnick going was slowly about to slip away and it would all be his fault.

Silence filled the room and Finnick could’ve sworn he felt his heart stop. Looking back at the screen his eyes landing on you. Your eyes,your hair he kept scanning that photo as if it was the last time he would ever lay his eyes on you.

“I…” He tried to start his sentence before pressing his lips into a straight line. President Snow had executed victors before, so he knew it was no joke. As if it was ever a joke.

“As of what I know she isn’t here tonight. You know what to do.” President Snow spoke again nodding his head towards the direction of the door.

Finnick stormed out as quick as he could. He couldn’t risk falling apart in front of all of the capitol citizens as that would bring him even more trouble. But he didn’t care anymore.

You were already slipping through his fingers like sand since after your games, and now you would be completely blown away from him.

On the train back to 4, Finnick cried all night. He didn’t eat, he barely slept and he kept looking at the tiny photo he had of you two. He carried it everywhere as a reminder of what awaits for him at home. Now all that was left was his memories of you two.

All the times you spent on the beach together since you were kids, the long walks along district 4 and the beautiful smell of vanilla that lingered in the air every time you were around.

❛ ━━━━━━・❪🐚❫ ・ ━━━━━━━━━━ ❜

Finnick ran back to the victors village as fast as he could. His heart beating rapidly threatening to jump out of his chest. He stood in front of your shared home, which would soon forcefully become only his home once again. But without you he can’t even call it a “home”.

He sighed deeply before walking up the steps.

If only there could be another way to do this.

He opened the door slowly just incase you were asleep. He was hoping you were so he could have at least one more night with you sleeping in his arms. He felt as if that was selfish of him, after all he would be the one to break your heart dangerously soon.

“Finn…? Is that you?” You questioned your voice coming from your shared bedroom.

He could hear your gentle steps coming from the hallway. He couldn’t do it, he just couldn’t.

“Finnick what’s wrong?! Are you okay?” You walked up to him quickly grabbing his face in your hands.

Your soft,gentle hands. He would miss your loving touches so much, he already missed them.

Unable to move, Finnick stood there frozen in place taking in your every feature. How strands of your hair were gently falling on your face, you stood there in front of him inspecting him completely looking for what was wrong.

He brushed your hair away from your face gently as you melted into his touch. He sucked in a deep breath before his eyes welled up with tears.

“You have to go…” He mumbled quietly hoping you didn’t hear him. He cupped your face gently and your expression somehow broke his heart all over again.

“What…?” You whispered quietly looking into his teary eyes your own tears now threatening to spill.

God, it felt like murder to put your heart through this.

You backed away slowly shaking your head. He just stood there. You looked back up at him, already a sobbing mess before slowly stepping closer.

“I don’t understand Finn…go where? Why?” Your hands were shaking slightly as you brought them back up to his face, now caressing his cheek.

He took your hands into his, holding them tightly.

“I am so sorry.” That was all he could say, his tears now spilling everywhere like the beautiful waterfalls around district 4 you both loved so much.

“Finnick, what happened? “You’re scaring me…I…”You could barely talk now,tears running and pouring hard.

“I’m sorry I…I know I always said that I could never hurt you.”

“Hurt me? Finnick what is going on?” You let out a small gasp, tears now flowing even more. It clicked, he was breaking up with you. He was leaving you. The man you loved more than the stars love the moon, the one who held you through all those dark nights, the one who promised to never hurt you. The one who promised to fight for you.

You pushed him away as hard as you could. Once,twice and then once again before hitting him in the chest.

He just stood there letting you,silent sobs escaping his mouth. He deserved it, he broke his promise and he hurt you.

He wanted to tell you that this is very last time i’m ever going to but he stayed silent. He let you pour your heart out and be angry. He deserved it, he let Snow get to him and now he’s paying the price. And it’s a big price to pay.

“I don’t understand!” You yelled as loud as you could through all of your sobs. “Did I do something…? I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to hurt you…I…”

More sobs broke out from your mouth as Finnick grabbed you as tightly as he could, pulling you in, his shirt soon becoming drenched with tears. He couldn’t believe it. He was breaking your heart and you were the one apologizing.

He wished he could turn you back into a stranger , to spare you all the pain and heartbreak.

He held onto you but as strong as he was you managed to get out of his hold. You stood in front of him taking a good look at him. You pulled him in for a gentle yet passionate kiss.

“I’ll go get my stuff.” You mumbled as you rested your forehead against his.

That was it. He felt as if his life had now officially ended. Snow took everything away.

He watched as you left that night and walked over to Mag’s house still crying. He wanted to run to you,to hold you, to tell you that he had to do this for you.

❛ ━━━━━━・❪🐚❫ ・ ━━━━━━━━━━ ❜

Days had passed by and Finnick was falling apart. He saw you a couple of times at the beach,in the market and just simply walking around district 4. He blamed himself for it all.

Maybe if he was never in your life you wouldn’t have to change it.

Still you consumed his thoughts,even two weeks later his mind kept going back and forth between his conversation with Snow, and his conversation with you.

He ruined it all from the start. Snow knew he loved-loves you. He had you reaped,sold and crumbled up completely. And then he took away the one person who helped you through it all just to make you suffer even more.

And you knew this, you knew that Finnick knew it aswell. But you still couldn’t understand why. Finnick promised he would fight for you, fight for you two to make it in this cruel world. But you never blamed him, you just couldn’t do it.

He stared out from his window only to be met with a sight that crushed him immediately. You coming back from the capitol,mascara staining your cheeks and the bruises on your skin completely fresh. A part of him wanted to run out of his house to help you, but the other part knew better.

He watched as you stepped into your house barely able to open the door due to your shaking hands. And all he could do was watch. He wanted nothing more but to hold you, to feel the touch of your warm skin against his. To assure you that he would do whatever it takes to protect you, as he was trying to do now.

He hoped you would eventually come to the realization yourself. That he would never do this to you if it were up to him. If he was the one in control he would be with you right now, kissing away your tears,making you tea and getting you into bed into his arms. You fit perfectly with him like a puzzle piece.

And now that puzzle was broken apart, ripped up to shreds and thrown away. Pieces of it scattered everywhere around district 4.

He knew he would never move on, there was no one else that could hold a candle to you.

But he wasn’t going to be selfish. He hurt you enough. Although he was unable to move on he was hoping you would, eventually.

Eventually.

❛ ━━━━━━・❪🐚❫ ・ ━━━━━━━━━━ ❜

Thank you so so much to anyone who read this ♡

This was my first work I ever actually finished 🤭 English isn’t my first language so I hope this makes sense! (it kinda is but anyway…)

ANYWAY! Tame Impala inspired me so much and I just had to write this so I really really hope you enjoyed it!

Once again thank you for reading 💝

#Spotify #finnick x reader #finnick x y/n #fanfic #the hunger games #hunger games #finnick odair #finnick x you #thg finnick #finnick imagine #finnick fanfic #hunger games finnick #thg series #finnick x reader fluff #finnick odair angst #finnick odair fluff

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mintkookiess · 10 months

Text

If Only.

Worst mistake to write angst while listening to a sad playlist oh my god I kid you not, I started ugly sobbing during the climax that I needed a quick break before continuing. Don't mind me, just gonna sulk in a corner for a while.

Love,

Mint

Summary: Hanahaki disease. That’s all I’m placing here.

Tags: Miles Morales x reader, Hanahaki disease, angst (no happy ending again), death, don't forget your tissues, not proofread, maybe I'll do it later

Warnings: Major character death, mentions of blood

Your eyes pried open on another normal, already dragging, Tuesday morning. The alarm clock on your bedside table wasn’t even loud enough to wake you, seeing as how you slept through it. You carefully laid to your side, as the all-too-familiar cough climbed up your throat. This went on for a minute until you see a small pile of petals on the floor.

“Shit…” You muttered to yourself, groggily grabbing the glass of water that you’d already prepared the previous night like always. This was the normal morning routine for you.

Wake up. Cough those stupidly red petals. Get through the day. Cough even more petals. Go home. Sleep. Repeat.

On this particular morning, however, it was quite different because you could hear the voice of your best friend outside your dorm.

“Hey, you awake yet?” Miles asked, knocking softly to make sure he doesn’t wake you if you were still asleep. You always thought that was kind of him.

You forced yourself up and out of your bed, shoving back the blankets then dragged your feet to open the door.

“I’m awake. Why are you here? Thought you’d be waiting at the school entrance like usual.” You said huskily, still with that morning voice. Your best friend shook his head, “I kinda woke up a little early today so I thought I’d come to pick you up from your place instead.”

You couldn’t help but smile.

He was just too good for you.

“Fine. Let me get changed at least.” You chuckled, before closing the door in his face. You laid your back against it, sliding down to the floor as you felt that familiar ache in your chest.

In just a few seconds, you started hacking once more right then and there.

Ah, was it because I wasn’t expecting him here this morning?

“H-Hey, you good?” You hear Miles ask from the other side, making you scramble up. “I’m fine Miles just um… choked on my saliva.” You lied. Your hands quickly grab the tiny broom and pan you kept and started sweeping up all the red petals that decorated your floor.

You then threw every single last one in your already overflowing bin. I’d have to clear that out before he sees it.

You quickly changed into some more decent clothes before grabbing your bag and heading out to see Miles laying against the opposite wall of the door, he gave you a small smile and stood up. “Ready?”

You nodded in response, making sure to lock your door before you both head down.

“Oh right, Gwen is actually coming with us to class today if that’s okay,” Miles said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his hair.

You made it like your life’s mission to ignore Gwen at all costs. It was entirely selfish, but it wasn’t like it really did you any favors with your… disease. Miles had confronted you about this a couple of times, but you just came up with lie after lie. You didn’t want to, because you can’t exactly tell him the true reason.

Of course, your best friend knew you were lying, but he just didn’t want to pry because it might make you uncomfortable. And you were thankful for that. Until now.

“Miles—”

“I know I know I just… It was a last-minute thing.” Miles said, trying to reason with you, “It’ll be just this once I swear. I know you’re not exactly a fan of her but, can’t you still try? I mean maybe if you got to know her better—“

“Fine.” You sighed, finally agreeing.

Doctor Sanchez’s words suddenly echoed in your head like a siren that was loudly warning you.

“Stop feeding yourself even more hurt. Ignore, lie, and do anything you can to stop. It’ll slow it down, but not much.”

Oh, how you knew. This was practically engraved into your mind, heart, body, and soul. You said this to yourself so many times like an oath. Avoid the hurt.

But you can’t keep being a bad friend to Miles any more than you already have.

The both of you continued to walk to the lobby of your school in complete silence. Miles could only bite his lip in nervousness, though he just wanted to ask why you happened to dislike Gwen so much, he just didn’t want to make you mad. His grip on his backpack’s straps only tightens at the thought.

What is really going on with you? He thought to himself.

Your eyes stared straight forward as you both reached your destination. It wasn’t long until it spotted the familiar blonde girl from a distance.

Gwen gave a light wave to the two of you as she walked toward where you both were standing.

“Hey Gwen, what’s up?” Miles greeted, his face lighting up in an instant like some Christmas tree in New York.

You forced yourself to look away but still got a glimpse of it.

Why did I agree to this?

Your chest tightened, and you instinctively covered your mouth with a hand. No please, not here. Not right now.

“Um hey…” Gwen cautiously greeted you. She tried to give you a friendly smile to which you only nodded.

Miles could already sense the growing tension and suddenly clapped his hands together. “So, physics class? We gotta bounce or we’d all be marked late.”

“Yeah, we should go.” You mumbled, walking past them while still covering your mouth as if it would stop the cough that was threatening to let out.

Gwen and Miles looked at each other worriedly but silently followed behind you.

You could hear them talk in hushed voices behind you, but your entire focus was on trying to not cough in the school hallways.

The Hanahaki disease isn’t exactly a secret. Everyone knows what it is. And you’d rather burn in hell than have people find out. Especially him and her.

Your other hand clutched your chest as you tried to walk faster because you wanted to keep a safe distance between you and the other two as much as possible before you practically start vomiting those red petals on the school floors.

“Is… she okay?” Gwen whispered to Miles with clear concern. She knew you didn’t exactly like her, she wasn’t an idiot. Gwen believes that it’s because she suddenly entered your two-man friend group without warning when in reality, it was so much more than that.

“Sorry about her…” Miles sighed, his head hung low and a frown decorated his lips. You were his absolute best friend, and to see you being like this with Gwen makes him ache. If only, he could know what was wrong, but he also wanted to respect your space. It has him torn between two cautious choices that could end up in the worst way possible. He just didn’t know how deep the consequences would be.

Other than the different morning you had, it was just like any other day. You were able to stop yourself from coughing for the most part, but if you couldn’t take it you’d excuse yourself to the bathroom, letting out a few petals in the toilet and flushing them away.

During lunchtime, it was usually just you and Miles at the cafeteria, but Gwen decided to tag along once again. So you had the utmost pleasure to see the two joke about and discuss things that you never understood because you weren’t a Spider person like them.

You watched as Miles laughed and smiled at everything she said, and all you could do was mindlessly stab your food in hopes of drowning out and forgetting what you're currently witnessing. However, you immediately started coughing. Your hands instantly flew to your mouth to keep the petals in your mouth.

You gave Miles a panicked look before running out the cafeteria and into the bathroom, immediately vomiting all the petals that had accumulated inside your mouth, and for the rest of lunch, you were stuck there, filling up the toilet with the petals that were such an eye sore to you as hot tears flowed down from your eyes.

Miles had tried to bring it up during the succeeding classes, only for you to turn him down every single time. He finally gave up, but was still worried because he sensed something different about you today.

Your doctor did prescribe you some suppressants for the disease, but you refused it time and time again. Taking those suppressants would make you slowly lose grip on your feelings for Miles.

As much as it hurt you, you didn’t want that.

To hell with those fucking petals, who cares if it’s taking your life little by little every day? Your love for him was too great, too good of a feeling. It was worth it.

It’ll be worth it.

When you asked your doctor how much more time you have left, they didn’t give a direct answer but you knew. You already knew that it wasn’t long. Few months give or take. Maybe even shorter than that.

Once classes were done, you gave Miles your usual goodbye hug before heading out of campus to the hospital for your daily check-up for the Hanahaki disease.

Your doctor did the usual tests, examining a petal of yours, conducting blood tests, scans, etc.

After an hour, she called you back into her office for the results. You were halfway into taking your seat as she already shoots the question that you’d been dreading to be asked.

“Have you been taking your suppressants?”

In truth, you didn’t tell her that the pills were just laying on the floor somewhere in your dorm. You weren’t going to be lectured by your doctor.

“Yes.” You lied, eyes looking everywhere in her office but her. Your eyes focused on this particular vase, where a single flower laid there. It was the same shade of red as yours, making you chuckle.

Before your doctor could start telling you about how important commitment was to the treatment, you start wheezing.

But this time, it felt different.

Your lungs felt like they ran out of air, your throat was like it had been clogged and you couldn’t breathe. Your eyes widened as you took sharp inhales, but for some reason, you couldn’t exhale at all. You fell off your chair and into the floor, gripping your throat, nails digging to scratch your skin from the excruciating pain.

Doctor Sanchez was quick to get down to you, rubbing your back as her face filled with worry. “It’s at its final stage, you have to tell him—“

“No!” You yelled, surprised that you were even able to utter a single word. Shortly after that however, you were back to heaving. Your hand was now in a fist, punching your chest in an attempt to get out whatever it was that was in your lungs.

Your mind started to fog up, and your vision was slowly going black until you saw it.

The fully formed flowers on the ground.

There were no petals, this time they were fully bloomed roses.

They were so pretty that it was almost laughable. Something beautiful was stemming from your despair and suffering. At least there was one thing good happening from your godforsaken disease.

Miles, on the other hand, barged into your dorm to bring the textbooks he borrowed from you, or at least that’s what his excuse was gonna be to you. It was your number one rule that he shouldn’t just come into your room when you were gone, but he could sense something off with you today. Much more than usual. And he was determined to find out.

He had an extra key for emergencies, so he entered without any problems. He took in your room, setting down the textbooks on your desk as he took a seat by the edge of your bed.

She’s not here. He thought to himself, sighing.

As his brown eyes roamed the different bits and bobs around your dorm, he suddenly spotted something behind your desk. Miles squinted his eyes, wondering what it was. “Is that… a petal?” He wondered out loud. He crept up to it, crawling under your desk to grab the petal. “What the…” His fingers examined it carefully until he spotted something from the corner of his eye. There were more.

A lot more.

His eyes slowly widened at the bin of red petals. It was so full that the petals had dissipated around it on the floor. Miles’ eyebrows scrunched up together, wondering where all these could be from until… it dawned on him.

“Hanahaki? But… but how I…” He stuttered. He pulled the bin towards him with shaking hands, inspecting the petals that had a rich shade of red. Almost similar to that of his Spiderman suit.

She… She had this all along and hid it from me I…

He spots another item, it was a pill bottle. Except its contents were scattered, and the bottle itself was cracked as if it was thrown against the wall and fell behind your desk.

Miles picked it up, dreading to see what it was. He slowly turned it around to see the words “Hanahaki suppressants - Y/n L/n 30 pills 150 mg” written in big bold letters that stared back at him.

He drops it out of shock, chest heaving and breaths coming in quickly.

He was confused, so confused about everything. Why would you hide such a thing from him…?

Doctor Sanchez called for emergency assistance, she grabbed the intercom in a panic. “Code blue! I repeat code blue! Medical assistance to room 1304 now! Code blue!”

In a matter of seconds, doctors and nurses have already carried your body to a hospital bed, as roses continuously shook out of your mouth.

Your entire body was flaring up and all you could do was scratch your neck so hard that it almost draws blood. Your nose and ears have started to bleed out, and it was as if your skull was being cut open and stabbed repeatedly.

You couldn’t even form words as the nurses continued to push you into room 1304 for emergency treatment. The people at the hospital looked over in pity and nervousness as they watched the girl with the Hanahaki disease being pushed across the hallway as roses start to flood after her bed like a trail.

Even if it felt like the pain was eating your entire body alive, all you could think of was him.

Please, I need to see him. Even for just one more second, please.

But Miles doesn’t even know anything about this, and it just increases your already large amount of regret.

I should’ve told him. Even though I know he doesn’t like me back, I should’ve told him.

He’s my best friend. And I can't even say goodbye.

But maybe this was for the best. I wouldn't want him to see me in such a pathetic state.

Miles was quick to suit up, flinging himself out of your window in a matter of miliseconds. He didn’t know where to find you, and all he could do was rack his brain on the places that you could be in. As he continuously swung around the city, tears formed in his eyes behind his mask.

He was angry. So angry at himself for not noticing. Furious at the fact that he already knew something has been off with you for the past months, but he didn’t try hard enough to know what it was. He was mad because he just let you suffer alone.

Some friend I am. He thought on repeat.

He tried to use his senses to see if he could pinpoint your location, running and swinging between endless crowds and roads, because something felt terribly wrong.

Miles didn’t know what exactly it was, but he knew.

He had to hurry.

“Time of death… 5:47 pm.” Your doctor read from the monitor in a monotone voice. She wrote down the information with trembling hands. Her eyes crept up to see you on the hospital bed, frozen and still.

The static sound of the heart monitor was so deafening and seemed louder than it normally was. There was a heavy silence in the hospital’s emergency area as everyone present stood still.

Another poor youthful soul had been taken by such a cruel disease.

Suddenly, the door banged open, and there stood Miles who was breathing heavily as he tried to catch his breath.

His brown eyes spotted you and it was as if time had stopped running, as if the world around him disappeared just like that.

Miles slowly took in the sight before him, your doctor who stood by the edge of your bed with a deep frown, you who was laying still, eyes closed. He also tried to process the flowers that filled up the entire floor of the room. These were roses, but he knew their petals.

“I believe you are him?” Doctor Sanchez asked with a poor attempt at a professional tone. Miles’ mouth was still agape in shock, his mind refusing to process what he was seeing as he slowly looked at her. “Wh-What?” The doctor sighed, hugging her clipboard to her chest. “You’re her unrequited love, yes? You’re Miles Morales?”

The poor boy couldn’t muster a single word right now, so all he could do was slightly nod at her. “Time of death was 5:47, the cause is… Hanahaki.” She reported with an aching heart as she sees Miles’ expression.

“I… I never knew until I saw the…” Miles couldn’t even bring himself to say it, that maybe if he didn’t then all of this wouldn’t be true. He took slow steps towards you, each one being heavier than the last as if they weighed a thousand pounds.

It felt as if his heart stopped beating, and his body no longer functioned as he stared down at you. His quivering fingers tried to grab your hand, only to find that it was cold… Too cold…

Right at that second, tears had already started to stream down his cheeks silently. Miles bit his lip hard as he started to harden his grip on your hand. He placed it between both his hands and he rubbed violently.

Maybe if he did so, he’d be able to bring back some warmth into your body. Maybe he’d feel that familiar tingling sensation that he always felt when both your hands would touch. He was silently praying that it was a prank, that he’d feel your fingers wrap around his, and that you’d tell him you were fine.

But it never came.

Your chest wasn’t rising up and down, there seemed to be no more color in your face, no more life. Your lips have turned a faint blue as dried blood surrounded your nose and ears.

He refused to think of what this meant. He wasn’t going to believe it. He… He just can’t.

“But I… I love her too.” Miles hiccuped between tears. He felt his legs give out, making him fall to his knees but the flowers had cushioned him from hitting the floor. Even in this state, you manage to keep him from feeling pain.

Doctor Sanchez’s breath hitched in her throat and she couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. “She thought you liked someone else. She didn’t want you to worry so she hid it I… I’ve tried to tell her that she should confess, to tell you how she felt but she… she was dead set on thinking that… she was never enough for you.” After one last breath, she walked towards the door. “I’ll… give you some privacy.”

Once the door closed behind him, Miles weakly stood up and that’s when it started. He let out the most painful cry so loud that everyone outside the room could hear.

His hands gripped his hair, pulling at it vigorously as he continued to bawl his heart out in agony.

The truth was, he loves you more than anyone in this entire world. He loves you with every fucking fiber of his being, with every cell in his body. All of it was yours, every heartbeat of his was dedicated to you. You were a major part of why he wanted to keep being Spiderman, so he could protect you.

So he could shield you away from any harm or danger.

And yet, he still couldn’t save you.

He started to feel suffocated as he punched the floor with his fists, almost cracking it in the process.

He was so goddamn furious at himself.

He felt like the biggest fucking coward in the entire universe.

If only, if only he had mustered even the slightest of courage to tell you of how he felt, then this wouldn't have happened. You'd still be alive.

Miles was now wailing in anger and pain that he couldn’t even begin to describe.

The realization has finally started to kick in.

He had lost you.

You suffered alone because you thought your love for him was unrequited and would never have been returned.

You didn’t believe in the possibility. But oh how wrong you were.

You didn't see the passion, love, and admiration in his eyes whenever he looked at you. You failed to notice the little things he did for you, like remembering your favorite things, or bringing you to your favorite places.

How he would pluck flowers from the school garden and gave it to you, or maybe even the times where he'd let you copy his answers on a test.

You just thought he was such a good friend.

If only… If only the both of you have tried a bit harder. Maybe then, it didn’t have to end this way.

Fin.

More of my Miles content here babes!

(if yall wanna be on my taglist feel free to let me know!)

#i'm so sorry this was so long #oh my god i'm still crying #i hate this sm pls #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x reader #miles g morales #across the spiderverse #miles morales x you #miles morales angst #angst with no happy ending #atsv fic #atsv

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rxmqnova · 4 months

Note

Hii! If your still taking request i might’ve have something for you, only if you would like to make it, i just love your stories so much, and click on it when i see you have posted!!! ( it’s a Wanda x daughter!newborn y/n reader😅 kinda something)

Anyway, the storie i have thought off, was maybe that Wanda was pregnant and was about to give birth, (she’s in her late 9 month of pregnancy) when the Avengers came to rescue them, she’s in a bit of distress when they came, and feels a contraction or something, (maybe this was after they first met and she used her powers on them) the others wouldn’t help her, even tho Nat got most hit, she would help her and demand the others to help or something, and she ends up in so much pain before they reach the compound ? A little chaotic with some fluff at the end?😅

Hope this make sense, just an idea😅

Merry Christmas!

Little miracle

Y/N: newborn ——————————————————

NO ONE'S POV "Wanda, are you sure you want to do this?" Pietro sighs, worry in his eyes as he's looking at his sister and hoping she'll change her mind.

"He has to pay for what he did to our parents, Pietro" Wanda says seriously, preparing herself for meeting the Avengers once again.

The twins and the Avengers have already had one encounter and it wasn't nice at all. The original plan of the Avengers was to take down another hydra base, but the twins showed up and made some damage on them.

The team hasn't given up though. Steve is convinced that the young siblings need help, so that's why the team is headed to the abandoned place Wanda and Pietro are hiding at.

Wanda knows though and she's determined to destroy them… specially Tony Stark as the twins blame him for their parents' death. What keeps Pietro worried is that his sister is in her last month of pregnancy. He'll soon become an uncle, but another fight with the Avengers definitely isn't good for the baby.

"They're here" Wanda announces, her nervousness becoming bigger and bigger.

She won't admit it to her brother, but she is nervous and stressed that something might go wrong and her baby would get hurt. Her stubborn self just has to avenge her parents though.

As soon as the Avengers are standing in front of them, the twins are ready to attack, a red magic ball formed in both Wanda's hands… So the fight starts, Pietro using his superspeed while Wanda's using her mind-reading abilities, getting into their minds and showing them their worst fears or memories. Though suddenly something just doesn't feel right. A sudden pain makes Wanda let out a groan.

"Wanda?" Pietro looks over at his sister concerned, immediately making his way over to her.

"I'm good, it was just- ahhh" Another contraction interrupts Wanda's sentence, making her immediately put her hand under her stomach.

"Wanda" Pietro wraps his arm around his sister, not knowing what to do at all while the Avengers are either deep in their thoughts or watching the siblings confused.

"It's nothing, it's no- oh my god" Wanda groans, digging her nails into her brother's arm as another contraction hits, making him hiss in pain. "My water just broke! Do something, Pietro!" She raises her voice, nearly dropping down to her knees if Pietro wouldn't hold her.

"So, hmm… Are we fighting or not?" Tony asks, interrupting this uncomfortable moment.

"I can't do this, Pietro. I can't" Wanda whispers, panicking as her contractions are picking up on speed.

As Wanda lets out another loud groan, Natasha's up on her feet again, shaking her head to get rid off the horrible memory Wanda made her see.

"She's giving birth" Natasha say, slowly making her way over to the twins with her arms up to show them she's there to help.

"Pietro" Wanda whispers, looking at the Avenger that's walking closer, making her brother turn around and spot the redhead.

"I wanna help" Natasha assures, still keeping her arms up, so worried Pietro just nods as he has absolutely no idea what to do. "You need to breath, Wanda. Breath with me" She says softly, taking a hold of Wanda's hand and trying to get the young girl to breath properly. "Don't stand there like that! Help me get her to the jet!" She orders to her team members quickly before looking back at Wanda. "That's it, you're doing great"

The Avengers are quick to listen, Steve helping Pietro to get the young witch to the jet while Clint's already in the jet, ready to set off to the compound.

"I'm not ready, I don't think I can do it" Wanda whispers as soon as she's sitting in the jet, tears filling her eyes as she's gripping her brother's and Natasha's hands.

"Of course you can, Wanda. Everything will be okay. You'll have your baby son or daughter soon" Natasha gives the scared girl a soft smile, rubbing her knuckles with her thumb before Wanda squeezes her hand once again as another contraction comes, making both Natasha and Pietro let out groan.

"Daughter. It's a girl" Wanda whispers.

"Oh, a girl? See, you'll have your baby daughter soon. Have you thought about a name already?" Natasha continues the conversation, trying to distract Wanda from the pain.

"Mhm. Y/N… Y/N Maximoff" A small smile forms on Wanda's face, loving the name she's chosen for her baby girl.

"That's a beautiful name. Did you choose it?"

"Yeah, I- aaah. Oh my god, are we there yet?!"

———

"Few more pushes" The doctor informs, trying to encourage Wanda, thought the witch feels exhausted as ever.

Pietro being the supportive brother he is, he agreed he'd be there with Wanda the whole time. Though it looks like he overestimated himself as he got soon replaced by Natasha.

"I don't think I can do it, I can't anymore" Wanda nearly whispers, tears slowly running down her cheeks.

"Of course you can, Wanda. I know we don't really know each other, but I just know you can do it. You're such a strong girl" Natasha encourages, giving Wanda a soft smile.

"Let's push on three, okay?" The doctor says on which Wanda nods. "Good… One, two, three. Push"

Wanda squeezes her eyes shut, trying to push as much as she can while squeezing Natasha's hand for her dear life.

"You're doing so good, let's go again. One, two, three. Push" The doctor says on which Wanda repeats her actions as good as she can, Natasha trying not to hiss in pain from Wanda's tight grip over her hand.

As soon as the room fill baby cries, Wanda rests her head on the pillow, completely exhausted.

"You did it" Natasha smiles warmly, wiping away the tear that's escaped her eye. It doesn't happen often when Natasha gets emotional.

"Are you ready to see your daughter?" The doctor asks with a smile, handing Wanda the little one wrapped in a pink blanket.

"Oh hi" Wanda smiles, tears forming in her eyes once again, Natasha smiling at the sight. "You're so beautiful, sweetheart. I'm your mommy" The brunette whispers, tears running down her cheeks while she's rubbing her daughter's small knuckles with her finger. "I love you so much, Y/N/N. Mommy will always protect you, I promise"

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

I've never written about giving birth, so hopefully it's not too bad xd

I'm so glad that you enjoy my stories!! This makes me so happy!! <;33

Thank you for reading and liking! <;33

Merry Christmas!!! <;33

Wanda Maximoff masterlist

Masterlist

#wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #pietro maximoff #quicksilver #natasha romanoff #black widow #avengers #the avengers #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x daughter!reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader

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rodolfoparras · 1 month

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So in SSKTJL, the suicide squad gets infected with Fear Gas because of Batman

For context, Fear Gas is a gas created by Scarecrow or Johnathan Crane, and when inhaled, you live through your worst fears until worn off.

And Digger's worst fear is everyone leaving him behind, being unwanted and forgotten. In the scene, George talks to himself, saying they've probably already left him. Calling himself a loser and and a coward and shit. He sees "NOT WANTED" posters of himself hung up around

(I can't do this anymore, bro)

What if Reader's worst fear was watching all of his friends/teammates die and losing them all🥰

Running around trying to listen to Harley's advice (because she knows Scarecrow and the toxin) but he just keeps hearing his friends scream for help and their bodies everywhere but he's literally unable to help them, because they're not fucking real but it's scary asf

And once it's all over, Reader is all over Digger the rest of the night. They're the closest, so it's already not that weird, but he's literally not giving Digger a MOMENT of peace. a hand on that man the entire time, following him everywhere, fucking sleeps on top of him to try and keep him safe

Mumbles to him all night about being scared of losing him and how much he cares about him and Digger's just "🧍‍♂️wut?" Because he genuinely believes that despite working with the team, he's very easily disposable and they could all replace him but don't because of Waller

Reader ramping up his affection for Digger after that because he's not gonna let him think that shit??

Idk where I'm going with this but I love him so much. Just wanna play with his hair and kiss his face 😞

-🐧

Cw: tooth rotting fluff, x male reader

Okay but thinking about you being unable to calm down even though the gas has long stopped having effect, even though you’re back in your current reality with all your friends where they’re all very much alive and doing well but no matter what they say or do you just can’t calm down

It’s like you’re still stuck in that place, watching all your friends die in front of you without being able to do anything, and Digger being Digger starts joking around, telling the rest of the team how they should just knock you out to make sure you get to sleep through the night.

But his words turn into squeaks as you pull him into a bruising grip, his head shoved into your chest, and your arms locked in an iron grip around his waist.

Unintelligible sounds escape his lips as he tries to push you away from him but you don’t budge an inch, if anything you hold him tighter, nuzzling your face into his honey blonde locks and inhaling his scent, and for once you actually seem to relax.

“Uh hello big guy? cant breathe here,” the sound of Digger’s strained voice sends the whole squad into fits of laughter, with them even making comments about how you’re his responsibility for the night before splitting up to get some rest.

“Alright alright that’s enough” digger says as he finally breaks out of your embrace “jeez I know I’m a lovable guy but even that was a bit too much eh?” Digger says, clearly being sarcastic as he proceeds to prepare his make shift bed.

He doesn’t even get to lay down properly before you’re on top of him, your body weight pinning him in place an arm once again locked around his waist.

“God dammit,” Digger grunts out as his back meets the harsh impact of the ground. “What’s with you tonight eh? Gas scared you that bad? What did you even see?”

And maybe it’s the hint of concern in his voice or it’s the exhaustion from todays events, but you decide to tell you him what you saw earlier today.

Surprisingly enough, Digger listens intently to every word you have to say, at some point you think he’s fallen asleep or spaced out because it’s so unusual for him to not interrupt but when you look up, you see the very much focused look on his face as he continues to listen to you.

Once you’re done speaking you peer up at him - only to be met with the sight of his furrowed brows as he worries his bottom lip.

This time it’s your turn to ask what’s on his mind, digger doesn’t waste a second before he starts to explain, telling you how he can understand why you’d be worried about losing king shark- he was a great asset to the team - or Harley - she was a smart cookie or dead shot - look at his name! who wouldn’t want a guy like that on his team ? but he can’t understand why you’d be worried about losing him.

He doesn’t say it in a self deprecating way, but rather as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, as if he’s speaking of the way the sun is bound to rise tomorrow and maybe that hurts more than if he were to say it in a self deprecating tone.

You’re swift to rise up, knocking the air out of his lungs as you go on a tangent about how of course he’s an important part of the team, promptly mentioning the many times he’s saved your ass or saved another member of the team, the many times he’d been the reason as to why they succeeded in whatever mission you were doing.

By the time you’re done you’re all out of breath, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace hands still hanging in the air and staring wide eyed at the Aussie man.

“Alright alright big guy I get it,” he says, now sporting a blush on his face and avoiding your gaze while bashfully rubbing at the back of his neck. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you have a crush on the ol’ captain” Digger say with somewhat of a forced chuckle , and peers up at you beneath soft blonde lashes.

“Maybe I do,” you shrug.

“Wha-“

“Sleep digger, we have a long day tomorrow no?” You say, suddenly laying down again and pulling him into your arms before he can protest. You can hear him cursing under his breath but he doesn’t do anything to try and get out of your embrace. “Goodnight captain” you say with a smile on your face.

“Goodnight” he grumbles back as he tightens his hold on your waist.

#oh I loved writing this !!#captain boomerang #captain boomerang x reader #captain boomerang x male reader #digger harkness #digger harkness x male reader #digger harkness x reader #x male reader #male reader

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luvsuperboard · 1 year

Text

comfort meal

pairing: bf minho x f.reader

contains: fluff, comfort, mentions of food.

note: feeling soft lately and the thought of minho cooking your fav meal to make you feel better after a bad day it’s just agh <333 :(

getting home and sinking in your bed was the only thought invading your mind as the day went through, a bad day, the worst even. you opened the door and you could already feel tears forming at the corners of your eyes as you smelled your home’s scent, it was cozy, warm. it was home.

you kicked your heels off and messily unbuttoned your shirt as you walked to the bedroom. there he was, who you proudly call your ‘cute reason to live’. alright is kinda corny but c’mon man. his cat-like features fixated on his phone, which he put down the moment you walked through the door.

he was laying on his back when you came in, giving you the sweetest smile–the one that quickly faded when his eyes met yours. “hey, hey my love…” he stood up and pulled you into a tight hug, his hands finding their way to your hair and these softly stroking it as you melted under his touch “why are you- y/n?” as soon as he heard you sniff he understood.

“wanna talk about it?” he whispered still holding you close, you looked up at him, you swore you could clearly see your reflection in his deep brown eyes. “i just had such a bad day min..” your lips quivering as you let the words out.

“my sweet girl… you’ve worked so hard” he kissed the top of your head, yea he meant that. “let me take care of you today? don’t stress and go put on some comfy clothes, i’ll cook your favorite, hm?” you just nodded and his silhouette faded into the hallway that led to the kitchen.

“y/n, baby, dinners ready!” a soft voice was slowly getting you out your sleep. sometimes what you needed was just to rest like minho said; let go of your worries for a moment and drift to tranquility.

“c’mon, don’t make pull you out of bed” he said and pinched one of your cheeks, earning a giggle from you. you both walked to the kitchen, where a plate full of one of your favorite dishes was waiting for you. it was simple, homemade and just perfect.

you thanked him with a tiny smile before siting down “eat, my love. don’t like you going to bed with an empty stomach” he caressed your back when you started eating, feeling proud at the way your eyes had lit up when you saw what he prepared.

god you loved this. you loved that he loved this.

one of his favorite things was making and experimenting with new recipes for you to try. he loved how your cheeks would look all puffy while being stuffed with his food, how much you would praise his cooking skills, and above all when you would be by his side as he cooked, either helping him or telling him about your day.

you couldn’t help it but start to tear up again, you felt so loved and comforted. “awh, what’s wrong, my baby?” minho cradled your face with both of his hands, making you look up at him from your plate.

“is it bad that i’m crying because your food is amazing?” you sounded so vulnerable, he felt his heart was going to jump out his chest, his ears now red from the compliment. he didn’t know how to reply, even though he’d feel bad seeing you cry, he liked you enjoyed it that much.

he wiped your tears with his thumbs, smiling fondly “well, i’m glad you like your personal five-star chef’s food,” he successfully made you laugh “and you can cry all you want, i don’t want you bottling up what you feel, alright?”

as the night continued, you both ended up curled up in bed, minho wrapped both of you in a bunch of warm blankets, whispering variety of sweet things to your ear as you slowly fell asleep on his arms.

you weren’t a cat person, but you were definitely keeping this caring and gentle kitty.

#lee know #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #lee know x reader #skz x reader #skz #lee minho #lee know fluff #stray kids scenarios #minho imagines #lee know imagines

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unclewaynemunson · 1 year

Text

(Pt2 to this post)

Wayne comes home one day and as soon as he opens his car door, he hears some folks having a goddamn professional screaming match. He can’t say he ain’t used to that - he lives in a trailer park, after all. Plenty of people around who don’t really know how to love each other that well. But what he truly is not used to, is that this time, one of the people shouting at the top of his lungs, is his own nephew. And he can guess all too well who the other one is. He knows the boy’s father, after all. Mr. Harrington is one of those men who’s scary in a completely different way than the Forest Hills folk.

Unfortunately, Wayne can’t say he didn’t see this one coming as soon as he met the Harrington boy for the first time. What else would someone like him, with neatly ironed polos and a big fancy car, be doin’ around the trailer park anyway? Found out his dealer was a queer and decided he might as well use that to his advantage before growing up into his perfectly mapped out life - it’s not like he’d have a lot of other options to pick from around a town like Hawkins anyway. And Eddie, no matter how tough he might seem to other people, had been head over heels before Wayne could do anything about it. His nephew was too used to bein’ beaten around, gettin’ used and abused, to have much of a problem with dating the wrong kind of guys. So it shouldn’t surprise Wayne in the slightest that this was how it would end, even though the Harrington boy had actually seemed to be a decent guy at first. Wayne knew like no other how misleading first impressions could be.

So he hastes himself to the trailer, preparing for the worst, ready to join in on the shouting and chase that stuck-up rich kid away from his boy for good - but he stops in his tracks, right before opening the front door, when he hears what it is they’re shouting about.

“-fucking ridiculous, Eddie!”

“I said I’d understand!”

“That makes it even worse!”

A pause, right when Wayne reaches the front door; the sound of footsteps pacing.

Then, in a calmer voice: “I don’t fucking wanna hold some random girl’s hand. It’s insulting that you’d even - I want you Eddie. I can’t believe I have to spell that out to you. That’s really fucking hurtful, man.”

Another silence; Wayne stands frozen on the doorstep.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Stevie.” There’s a crack in Eddie’s voice. “I just - I don’t want you to be unhappy.”

A soft sniff.

“What makes me unhappy is you doubting my feelings for you! And the people around us who make it unsafe to hold your hand. But it’s not... It‘s not being with you that makes me unhappy, you idiot! That’s the part that makes me happier than I’ve ever been, and as long as I can have that, I’m fine with not holding your hand in the diner. Can you please trust me when I tell you that, for God’s sake?”

“I’m so sorry I doubted you. I didn’t -”

“I know. Come here.”

First impressions can indeed be misleading. Wayne quietly retreats from the door. He conveniently remembers that he’d promised Earl from number 20 to have a beer sometime soon. It looks like the trailer is one of the few places where those boys can be completely themselves, safe from the judging gazes of people who already hate Eddie enough without knowing he’s gay. They could use some privacy, Wayne supposes. It looks like Steve will be around for a long time, after all.

#wayne munson my beloved #don't mind me rambling about stranger things #fruity ficlet #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #stranger things

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probably-writing-x · 1 year

Text

Another?

Summary: Rafe was known for how much his body could handle. Everyone knew it. The boy had no limits. So what happens when you try to keep up?

Warnings: Alcohol and substance use, cursing

Author’s Note: Thanks for all of the love recently, I’m glad you’re all liking my writing again !! Now prepare for Rafe being a douche and making your life hell :)

You had known the Cameron’s since you were little, having grown up as their neighbours. You’d spent nearly every day with them, Thanksgivings, July 4th’s, Christmases - they were like a second family. You and Sarah were inseparable, growing up like the twin sisters you’d never had. And Rafe? He’d always found a way to get under your skin. He drove you insane, the one person it seemed that you could argue with for hours on end. But he had the other side too. He’d punched your first boyfriend in middle school when they’d split up with you, and he went with you to prom before anybody else could ask you to be their date, he bought you Christmas presents and gave them to you when nobody else was around. Rafe cared for you in a way he didn’t seem to care for anybody else. Everyone could see it, it was like he had a whole new heart just for you, different from the one he showed to everyone else.

Another thing about Rafe - he always hosted the biggest parties. And tonight was no different. There were people here you’d never seen before, and all of the regular offenders.

“Hey (Y/N),” Topper grins when he sees you, two red solo cups in his hand, “I’ve been told to give you this.”

You smile and take the cup from him, “Thanks Top. Quick question though, who the hell are half of these people?”

He laughs, “Rafe invited a bunch of the holidayers, don’t ask me why.”

You roll your eyes, “Because god forbid his house isn’t overflowing.”

Topper laughs and leans back against the counter in the kitchen where you stood. You two had always stayed friends, past whatever had happened with him and Sarah. He was too sweet for his own good, as much as that was his worst trait sometimes.

“Have you seen him? He’s on it tonight,” He gestures towards where Rafe was snorting another line from the kitchen island.

He’s in a white tee with an open button down shirt, looking handsome despite his habits. His hair is fixed in the curtains around his head that he would constantly complain about, telling you that he should just shave it all off. So far, you’d been able to convince him not to. There’s a beer bottle in his hand but he takes a shot glass from the table and overflows it with tequila, tipping it back like it’s just water to his waiting liver.

“No different than normal, right?” Topper nudges you when you don’t respond, like drawing your attention back to reality.

But you weren’t so sure. He doesn’t seem like the boy you knew. There was something darker about him recently, like the drink and the drugs were more of a coping mechanism than a release. He needed it more than he wanted it recently, and it terrified you.

“(Y/N)!” The familiar low rumble of his voice calls out to you, and you look up to see him stumbling a little in his beeline in your direction.

“Rafe,” You reply, “Having fun?”

“You two are being boring,” He gestures between you and Topper, “You can’t just stand around all night.”

“I think we’re fine, Rafe,” Topper states, taking a swig of his beer.

“No, no, no,” Rafe shakes his head, swinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side, he lifts the hand with the bottle in the direction of Topper, his words slurring into, “I’ve told you before to stay away from her bro.”

“What are you talking about Rafe?” Topper clenches his jaw, looking at you as if he needs you to back him up already.

“Go for my sister, I don’t care. But if she doesn’t want you, that doesn’t mean you get (Y/N).”

“Fuck you,” Topper spits, downing the rest of his drink and walking out of the room, even the mention of Sarah fuelling the anger inside of him that it used to be rare to see.

You turn around and step out of Rafe’s grip, “Well, you can apologise for that in the morning.”

“I’m not apologising to him, I see the way he looks at you,” Rafe shakes his head, sniffing as if his body is already longing for its next hit.

“Rafe,” You’re slow in your words, forcing him to listen, “Me and Topper are friends, same as always. And, even if there was something there, it’s not your place to tell me who I can speak to.”

He takes a big gulp of his drink, not even the slightest hint of distaste on his features, his jaw clenches and unclenches before he speaks, “So you do like him?”

“You’re too drunk and high, and too far gone on whatever is in your body, for this conversation. I’m going home, and I’m going to bed. And I suggest you do too,” You grab your jacket from the counter and tug it over your shoulders, walking away before he has the chance to stop you.

“(Y/N)!” He shouts out, but it drowns out amongst the pulsing of the party.

~~~

Rafe had sent you a string of drunk texts last night after you’d left but none of them made enough sense to understand - just a lot of letters jumbled together. You could still hear the party going on late into the night from your house and part of you feared just how drunk Rafe would be the next day. No. It wasn’t your responsibility.

It’s midday when you walk past their house, taking a quick glance up like you normally would. And you spot him. On the porch, surrounded by bottles and cups and cans, sat on the couch as if not at all phased by it all.

You can’t help but be drawn towards him.

“Hey,” You speak quietly when you reach the top of the steps to the porch.

He looks at you through blurred eyes, picking up a beer bottle from the table and swigging it.

“You’re still drinking?” You raise your brows, the worry settling over your face.

“Shame for it to go to waste, right?” He shrugs, finishing the rest of the bottle and throwing it to the pile.

There were the remainders of various drugs spread across the table and you were almost completely certain that they were all his. The sight made your stomach turn.

But there was something in you when it came to Rafe, an urgency to help him as if you were the only person that could.

“Okay, I’ll have one too,” You set your bag down onto the table and take one of the full bottles, cracking it open and chugging at least half of the bottle.

“What are you doing (Y/N)?”

His hair is in disarray like it normally was in the mornings and he’d changed his clothes, so you knew he’d gone to sleep and woken up. If anything, that made things worse. This wasn’t the continuation of a late night, it was him waking up and realising he wanted to drown out another day before it had even started - the likelihood being that he had hoped he hadn’t had to wake up. It brought a lump to your throat and a tear in your heart.

He opens another bottle and so you finish yours and open another too, the beer already bubbling uncomfortably in your stomach.

“Cut it out,” He rolls his eyes, “I don’t want to deal with this today.”

“Clearly,” You state simply, sipping when he sips.

It continues like that until he’s finished another bottle, grabbing for the bottle of vodka next. You take the tequila, fighting back a wince as you mirror him sipping it down.

“Just fuck off (Y/N),” He says coldly, a kind of tone he rarely ever directed at you.

With that, he reaches for one of the small plastic bags of infamous white powder and tips out enough for a line.

“What? Are you doing this too?” He raises his brows.

You shrug, “Whatever you do, I do.”

Rafe laughs bitterly, setting out another line of equal size just next to his. He does his without flinching, as if it’s practically air to his immune body. You swallow the lump in your throat and pull your hair away from your face.

“You can’t be serious, (Y/N)…” His voice trails off and for a second you know that he’s nervous.

You don’t speak, bending down towards the table, your nose just inches above the wood.

Within a second, a blow of air comes from beside you, Rafe spraying the powder as far from you as he can get it, looking at you with an anger in his eyes.

“What the fuck is this? You think I’m just going to let you start doing drugs in front of me?” He scoffs, his voice raising just a little.

“How do you think I feel, Rafe? I’m watching you practically dig your own grave!”

“That’s not the same thing, okay?”

“I’m tired of acting like I shouldn’t care about this stuff, Rafe! I care about you, and I’m watching you destroy yourself, and you won’t talk to me, you won’t do anything, and you’re acting like I should just sit around and watch you become something and someone that I know you’re not. And of all your yes-men friends, who else is going to be honest with you?”

“I didn’t ask you to do this (Y/N),” He comments, regretting it almost as soon as the words come out.

“You know what? Go fuck yourself,” You grab your bag and stand up, storming back down the path away from his house as quickly as you can, your limbs trembling.

You’re not sure if you hear him, or perhaps it’s just that your hopes had been answered, but his hand grabs you and it feels like both of you are grounded in that moment. It’s a harsh contact, his long fingers wrapping around your wrist, but the sting is one of relief; of knowing he was there.

“Please don’t go.”

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trutrustories · 6 months

Text

STUDY IN LOKI ROMANCE

Part 2: Breaking Brad

Since we're only a few days away from the last episode, I decided to COUNT DOWN everything we´ve got so far ( that can be interpreted very easily as romantic ) and discuss what the actual fuck is going on with second season. Because even though I shipped lokius practically from S1E2, I absolutely did NOT expect this kind of development. (Not that I´m complaining)

Warning: This is gonna be LONG post, lots of screenshots, lots of SPOILERS, lot of "oh-my-god-they-so-cute" language, and little bit of meta.

I originally thought that this post would be everything at once, but since I have just too many screenshots this time around, I´ll have to split it. so every post will be one episode. Color coding means:

IIIIIIIIII = anything, that coud potentialy be just acting choice.

IIIIIIIIII = everything else (tzn.: whatever was written, and/or carefully prepared by filmmakers. )

side note: I already wrote, about how amazing it is, that Mobius is unable to fight but fights anyway and how beautifuly, and ridiculously brave he is HERE. But this is about Loki/Mobius interactions, so I´ll try my best not to talk about THAT. (Even when I´m really happy, that s2 continues with this formula and Mobius is still his completely defenseless while aggressively brave self. I love him, btw.)

EPISODE 1 HERE

Okay, Check-list, ep 2:

11) matching suits part 1 THIS ⬇️ costume department did a great job and they look badass together also, they´re walking very close to each other.

12) Loki defending /saving Mobius from Brad (with magic!) also, Mobius, dear, (my beloved) you were really going for it! Always so ready to fight! I can´t xD

Loki "don´t u dare hurt him" Laufeyson, look at his face!

13) Mobius and Loki struggling to assemble IKEA furniture- sorry Tapmad together

14) " And he knows..." I mean yeah, sure. keep remind us, that Mobius knows everything about Loki, and saw him at his worst, so we can appreciate even more the fact, that Mobius likes him and cares for him so damn much 💚🤎

15) Loki finding Mobius´s joke amusing Mobius: cracking joke right after Loki´s threatening speech:

Loki:

16) Loki being very concerned for Mobius after his outburst, saying that It´s okay, and then suggests having pie because he knows Mobius so well and is avare of the fact, that his man is stress eater I´m gonna cry they´re too pure for MCU someone adopt them

17) Bickering like married couple (part 2) 18) The whole freaking pie scene!

Just them, sharing calm, intimate moment together

Mobius opening up to Loki, and admiting he "lost it"

Loki trying to make him feel better and absolutely KILLING IT! btw, I know, that some people think, this scene doesn´t make sense, because Loki didn´t "lost it" during avengers, but was controlled by mind stone, etc.... well I think that it actually doesn´t matter. Guess what else doesn´t make sense? For example the fact, that they already talked about Loki fighting Avengers ( during their first meeting.) Loki is aware, that Mobius saw New York invasion at least twice now, and he´s telling him anyway. I would say, that point here is Loki trying to lift Mobius´s spirit, entertain him, make him smile. Why else woud he start his monolog by "remember, when...?" And I think, that this is huge, actually: Loki, using his bad memory, defeat, his humulianting experience to make Mobius feel better. So not only, that we see, he no longer care about being rurel but we see him making lightly fun of it FOR MOBIUS´S SAKE! He has different priorities now... our immortal god is a grown man now... it´s just so fucking beautiful... 🥺

Also Mobius saying to Loki: "come on, you´re the God of Mischief" Like it´s a best thing in the world, and Loki gives him THIS LOOK! (I mean that head tilt would be considered "acting" category, but I´m already making concessions by including all these things under one number :D

19) Loki and Mobius: mischievous duo

Mobius trusts him so completly!

They both such a drama queens!

And they works so well together!

like... seriously, Brad didn´t see this coming, AT ALL! xD

also... Loki complimenting his plan?!

20) "They say opposites attract. NO." Mobius´s wishfull thinking xD (But hey, it IS true. Opposites attracts. And works greatly together. That´s the only reason, why, for example, trope like grumpy one/sunshine one is so popular!) I can´t! just look at his face 🤣 Oh honey! just calm down

He is sooooooo NOT chill here xD bless him

21) Loki, not following Sylvie, but actually staying with Mobius and comforting him. AGAIN. (which is an absolutely glaring contrast compared to episode 2 in first season!)

#loki spoilers #lokius #loki season 2 #loki and mobius #MCU #mobius m mobius #mobius #owen wilson #tom hiddleston

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moongreenlight · 7 months

Note

ok ok so about this post:

https://www.tumblr.com/moongreenlight/729759450340130816/headcanons-for-captain-john-price-and-his-very

i was reading it while listening to mozart’s requiem: confutatis maledictus

https://youtu.be/hN7DZhGNCxY?si=knTn38X98KovFvzL

and i was thinking what if the age gap is the same BUT reader was also military?

like this sweet little thing who dresses in pretty, dark red cherry print skirts used to have the same dark red splotches of blood on their uniform in the field. reader who’s a bit deranged, who plays the strings on her violin until the deep indents on her fingertips threaten to cut and bleed. a bit strange reader who immediately snaps her head to the slightest out of place sound on her private garden, face dropping from her stepford smile into a focused scowl. loose screwed reader who demands the cook to cook the same dish 4 times on a random thursday because it didn’t taste like the same as when he prepared it 4 months ago. bit rabid reader who keeps her staff dogs on a tight leash, including her husband, demanding things to be done on her standards. pretty show cat reader who hisses and scratches when john doesn’t greet her with the same amount of joy at the door when he has a bad day at work.

this cat, no matter how pampered and spoiled, never fully became domesticated to be a house cat, still feral under her shiny new coat. her new appearance however, is truly just a guise over her rabid tendencies. god forbid john ever pushes readers buttons because his things will get destroyed, his ego deflated, his paperweights cracked, his uniforms ripped at the seams, sturdy until needed, his pens lacking any more ink, fountain pen nibs bent ever so slightly, furniture moved every so slightly, hair and facial appointments cut in half and only being once a week.

i just LIVE for deranged!reader. i love love love it when reader is the crazy one too who feeds and takes ideals from her husband 😼😼😼

Katz I am almost certain you read my rough draft for these Headcanons because I swear to you I almost wrote reader like this. Your mind. You also know I’m a sucker for an animal comparison you literally forced me to write this. :’(

I am a crazy bitch SYMPATHIZER. She is me I am her. It takes a lot of me not to write every reader as a little off their fucking rocker but I’m glad you’re endorsing this.

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

He probably takes a liking to you shortly after you start training. Catches you tearing into one of your bunk mates viciously for leaving one (1) sock on the ground next to their hamper. Doesn’t bother to break it up, just immediately goes back to his office and figures out who your training officer was and how quickly he could get you switched into his group.

He pulls rank on Soap to get him to agree to let you switch over. He doesn’t look happy about it, but he huffs and agrees to take a significantly less advanced rookie in exchange for you. Completely unfair trade, but Price is over the moon about it.

He doesn’t come off too strong at first because you’re young. Just turned twenty and joined the military to get loans for uni. He knows he’s much too old for you.

But still, he lets his hands linger on your waist when he’s correcting your posture, kicks your feet apart and plants his leg between yours when he’s teaching you how to properly handle a shotgun. Hears his other rookies complaining about you being favored by him because you’re the only one he’ll compliment during sessions.

Doesn’t even bother saying anything about the rumors spreading because you beat him to the punch- sometimes literally. Like he’s fairly certain you shot the worst offender in the foot on purpose during a mission to shut them up.

A few months go by with no real progress and no real payout until one day after training he wanders back to his office and finds you already sitting there waiting for him. You say something about how you’re hoping to advance pretty quickly after training, you wonder if he sees any potential in you. Lean over his desk and bat your lashes and ask what he thinks about giving you some private lessons, only if he has time of course. He nearly passes out.

And then a year later you’re married. He doesn’t have time to dick around, nor does he want to, and he now knows you well enough to know that you’ll throw a proper tantrum if things aren’t done exactly to your liking, so sure, it was a quick turnaround, but you really did love each other.

I think he asks a few times if you’ll leave the service, and you shut him down immediately. Scowling and pulling a face at the suggestion. Saying no just to say no. And then you go spent like $600 at the shops with his card. So he learns to keep his mouth shut and just supplement you with the life he wants you to have until you come to your own decision to be discharged.

And while you’ve grown accustomed to your new plush life, you never quite lose your fire. Truly, you’re a feral little thing turned prized show cat. You let him dote on you and provide you with all the finer things in life. Let him preen you and dress you up and play his perfect little wife. Oftentimes gives people the impression he’s got you tucked under his thumb when the reality of the situation is quite the opposite.

You let him play captain when you visit him at work or when he brings the boys over for drinks. Smile and stay relatively quiet tucked in by his side when you’re hosting dinner. Put on a nice outfit and a big smile when he introduces you to his chain of command during holiday parties and outings. You’ve gotten quite good at playing domestic.

But you like things exactly how you like them. Very particular about your life and your house and the people in it. You make it abundantly clear that it’s your way or no way at all.

Lounging out by the pool in the back while the landscapers work and noticing as they’re trying to slip out the gate that they didn’t properly trim the grass around the perimeter of the fence, so you storm out after them and hiss and yowl your complaint until they fix their mistake. Making a spectacle in your tiny bikini in front of the whole neighborhood until they finally correct the issue. Then you shake off any irritation and flash them a bright smile and offer your thanks like nothing had happened.

Hovering around the cook in the kitchen irritatingly close after you’ve asked them to prepare a dish that your mother used to make when you were a child. Peeking over their shoulder and punctuating their work with comments and corrections that are presented like suggestions, but everyone understands they’re demands. Going so far as to dump their progress in the trash when they’re not following your instruction well enough.

Sending John to work for two weeks straight with an empty bag that was supposed to hold his lunch because you’d asked him to please stop kicking off his mucked up work boots directly in front of the front door when he got home and he didn’t. Not even bothering to make up an excuse as to why you wouldn’t be coming to base when he called to ask if you’d bring him food. Simply saying no and ending the call no matter how many times he apologized.

Spilling his mug of tea over paperwork if you felt like he wasn’t paying you enough attention. Even if you were sat on his lap and obstructing his view of his desk.

Growing agitated with his working late so you go up to base when you know he’s out training and locking all of the drawers and cabinets in his office. Wearing the key on a dainty chain around your neck and telling him he can only have it back once you feel like he’s gotten his priorities straight. Calling in the aid of a handyman to bolt the mail slot on his door shut so he had no excuse to be doing any excess work.

Pulling a duchess from Wolf of Wall Street and wearing tiny little dresses with no underwear. Intentionally bending at the waist in front of him and leaning over his desk with your elbows pushed together in front of you when he’s done something to piss you off. Batting his hand away when he tries to grope you.

Or what felt like the worst punishment of all to him- making a point of being in the shower when he came home. Not giving him the pleasure of giving you the lush bubble baths he loved so much. Sometimes just sitting in the bathroom with the water running until you heard the front door swing shut and turning it off. Coming out wrapped in a towel that barely covered you. water beading on your shoulders. Sauntering away from him with your tail flicking back and forth when he tried to voice his protest.

He’s infinitely patient with you. Mostly because he is absolutely infatuated, but also because he knew what he was getting into when he married you. He’ll correct you when you go too far for his liking. Maybe pull you over his knee and make you apologize for how you acted until he feels like you mean it. Giving you a mean swat to the ass every time you’re snarky or flat out refuse. Sometimes gets fed up with your smart mouth and shoves his cock down your throat for a few hours to remind you that speaking is a privilege and not a right. Or he’ll parade you around the house fully nude. Maybe forcing you to crawl around on all fours like the feral cat you are in front of all the staff (or the task force boys) just to remind you of your place. Has you curl up on the sofa next to him, even though the whole time you’re pouting like you didn’t do anything wrong. Looks at you over his newspaper with a mock-sympathetic smile but says nothing until you decide to get over your anger and settle in his lap. Purring while he smooths a hand over your hair.

#cod mw2 #call of duty #cod x reader #141 headcanons #moongreenlight #moongreenlightwrites #drabble #captain price smut #captain john price smut #captain john price x reader #price cod #captain john price #john price #captain price

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