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joelsgreys · 24 days

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a safe haven l ten

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist l previous chapter l next chapter

summary: After a long night, Joel and Ellie take you home.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF AN INJURY SUSTAINED FROM AN ACT OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, PREGNANCY, CONVERSATIONS SURROUNDING PREGNANCY LOSS . PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. Ellie and reader are very close to each other, Joel deals with feelings of guilt, Joel and Maria make nice, Joel gives reader a bath and washes her hair, food consumption (i am just gonna apologize to my lactose intolerant folks right now, trust me i must pretend with you), both reader and Joel have some big feelings, reader mentions her deceased father, angst, soft and domestic Joel, fluff.

word count: 5k

a/n: i have not updated this series since october. :l i feel a a mixed bag of emotions updating after all this time, but most of all, i am grateful to know there are a couple of people out there who are still invested in this story. to anyone who has been waiting: truly, it means the world that you have shown me patience, support, and kindness. believe me, i am going to be seeing this story to the end, and it is all thanks to those who continue to show this lil story of mine a whole lotta love. special shoutout to the loveliest human @mrsmando who made me this beautiful mooodboard every single time i got stuck during this chapter, i looked at it and it gave me the boost of inspiration i needed. thank you mimi <33 this chapter is fairly tame, the next chapter is already in the works, and there are a couple of time jumps coming. overall, we are down to the last handful of chapters. let’s finish this story and give these two the ending they deserve, shall we?

“What the hell is taking Tommy so fucking long?” Ellie whines. She’s sprawled out on the couch with her head in your lap, and her arm draped over her eyes. Her feet are hanging, dangling over the edge of the couch at an odd angle after you’d warned her not to get muck from her sneakers on the linen fabric. Despite Joel insisting over and over that she head on back to the house, she had stubbornly refused, not wanting to leave your side. “It’s been over two hours! He’s taking fucking forever, man. What’s the fucking hold up?”

Joel bites back a sigh, masking his own impatience. Or at least, he tries. He’s grown just as restless as the kid, if not more. Much like Ellie, he’s desperate. He’s itching to take you home already, almost too anxious to watch you take that first step over his threshold, and into your new life with him and with Ellie. He aches, aches, to get you settled into the place where you would be spending the remainder of your days with one another, where you would be safe, and loved in the way you deserved to be loved—the place where he would cherish and adore you until his final breath.

“Don’t know,” he answers, his voice sounding rougher, more gruff than usual. Reaching up, he scrubs his hand down the side of his face, adding tiredly, “He might be a while longer, kiddo. It could be another hour, could be more. Like I already told you, s’probably best if you just go on and head back to the house without us, alright?”

“No. I’m not walking out that fucking door unless she’s with me.” She pauses and pulls her arm away from her face for a moment, just long enough to throw a teeny glare his way. “Unless you’re both with me. The three of us go home together, or it’s no fucking deal. Got it?”

He shakes his head in utter exasperation.

“Ellie, we’ll be right here down the fuckin’ road—”

Her hand shoots out and she flips him off.

Just when he’s about to chastise her, he stops himself, clamping his mouth shut. It’s pointless.

Kid’s too goddamn hard headed for her own good, and Joel knows he’s just wasting his breath with her.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” you reassure them both, weaving your fingers through her hair to scratch at her scalp in an effort to soothe her. “Right, Joel?”

He meets your exhausted, worn down gaze from where he’s standing across the room, and his heart lurches in his chest. As the guilt begins creeping in, he’s forced to look away. He can’t imagine the living hell you had been through over the last twenty four hours alone. And the worst part about it was the realization that last night, while he was fast asleep in bed just a couple of houses up the road, that fucking bastard had his belt wrapped around your throat.

Joel feels sick to his fucking stomach all over again.

Horrifying, vividly real images of you helplessly trapped underneath Luke scratching and clawing at the leather around your neck with trembling fingers, struggling to breathe oxygen into your burning lungs as he tugged it tighter and tighter through the buckle flash in his mind, a gruesome nightmare turned into reality.

Exactly how far had Luke taken it?

Until you had grown too weak to keep fighting?

Until you almost lost complete consciousness?

Until he noticed the life threatening to leave your eyes?

Is that when he had finally stopped pulling on the belt?

Joel shudders, a bitter taste climbing up his throat as it sinks in. He could have lost you—and his unborn child.

This shouldn’t have happened.

He shouldn’t have let you walk away that night.

This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t let you walk away from him that night.

“Joel,” you say his name, quiet and weary.

His head snaps back in your direction and he glances at you, almost missing the subtle shake of your head. It is a silent warning telling him not to go there, though you know by the tight clench of his jaw it’s too late for that.

Joel makes the futile attempt to hide it, but he sees it written all over your face—you know what he’s thinking because you know him like the back of your own hand, and you just know he’s placing all of the blame for what happened to you on his own shoulders.

But can you honestly fault him for that?

How can you expect him not to feel like he is somehow responsible for this? Just how the hell is he supposed to make himself believe he hadn’t failed you?

Joel promised—he had fucking promised you—that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. He had sworn to keep you safe, made a vow to protect you from Luke, but here you are, your soft, delicate flesh marred with the painful evidence of yet another one of his failures.

And it was all because he had let you walk away on that fucking night.

He should have done something.

Even if it meant running the risk of you never speaking to him again—even if you never forgave him, spent the rest of your life angry and hating him for going against your wishes. He should have something.

“Joel—”

“Be right back,” he mutters, lightly shaking his head.

Shoving away from the doorframe he’s leaning against, Joel pivots on the heel of his boot and starts down the hallway. He walks into the kitchen where he finds Maria standing at the counter, tapping her fingers against the smooth, laminated oakwood as she waits for the coffee she’d offered him a few minutes ago to finish brewing. She’d offered to whip up a quick supper, but food was the last thing on everyone’s mind.

“Tommy’s been gone for a couple hours now. Girls are startin’ to get real tired of just sittin’ around waitin’ for him to come back,” he tells her, exhaling the sigh he’d held back in the living room. “What do you think could be keepin’ him so long?”

With her back still to him, Maria reminds him, “Well, he did mention he was going to round up the council and get them together for an emergency meeting.” She lets out a sigh that matches his own—it’s been a long night for her, too. When the last drop of dark roast drips into the glass pot, she carefully takes the pot by the plastic handle and pours the steaming coffee into a speckled, white and blue ceramic mug. “Do you take it with milk and sugar?”

“No thanks, that’s alright,” he declines as politely as he can.

“I also have cinnamon if you’d like?”

“Plain black’s just fine.” He gives her a nod of gratitude when she hands it to him. “Thank you. And I don’t just mean the coffee, but for, uh—for bandagin’ up my hand for me, too.” He clocks the brief look of surprise on her face and almost laughs. He doesn’t blame her for being taken aback, because truth be told, so is he. Since he’d met Maria, he had known she didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. There was something of a mutual understanding between them, a silent agreement they had made to keep each other at arm’s length, to only interact when it was absolutely necessary.

Never did he think he would be standing in her kitchen, thanking her for patching up his hand, and for making him a cup of coffee out of the kindness of her heart.

His brother wouldn’t believe it.

“Don’t mention it.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she leans back against the counter. “How’s it feel, by the way?”

“S’fine,” he replies, shrugging. “Nothin’ I can’t handle.”

There’s a momentary silence. A taste of tension lingers over their heads, and he knows at one point or another, he’s going to have to address the affair, the very reason everything had unfolded in such a terrible manner.

Guess now’s as good a time as fuckin’ any, he thinks to himself with an inward sigh.

Joel lightly clears his throat. “Listen, since we’ve got a minute alone, just the two of us, I was wonderin’ if, uh—if we could talk ‘bout somethin’? If that’s alright?”

“Of course.” Maria gives him the floor.

“I know that she—” Pausing, he shuffles from the heel of one boot to the other, his ears burning hot. He had known it wouldn’t be an easy conversation to have, but he underestimated just how uncomfortable it would be, regardless of what she already knew. “I know she told you and Tommy all ‘bout us, and ‘bout our relationship. See, the thing is, the first time I saw her—”

Again, Joel stops, the burning sensation now radiating, spreading from his ears to his face and down his neck, flushing his skin a deep, deep shade of pink. Unable to meet his sister in law’s gaze, he glances down into his mug, as if he will somehow find the right words to say somewhere in the depths of his coffee.

“It was never my intention, y’know,” he finally says after a minute. “Goin’ after a married woman. I swear, I never meant to fall for her. I just fuckin’ did. I think I might’ve fallen for her long before I even met her,” he confesses. He feels himself darken to a shade of maroon under her curious stare. “And somehow, for reasons I ain’t all too sure I’ll ever understand, she fell for me too.”

Maria raises an eyebrow at him. “Look, I’m not judging you, Joel,” she assures him, shaking her head. “If that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not judging her, either.”

He looks up at her, blurting out, “You’re not?”

She moves her hands to cradle her swollen middle. “Do I wish you two had handled everything differently?” she answers her own query with a nod of her head. “Oh, I’m sure we all do. But I’ve known her for a long time now. I know the kind of woman she is. And I’m starting to see the kind of man you are.”

“And what kinda man is that, Maria?”

He waits without the slightest clue as to what she could possibly say.

“Since you came back to Jackson, I’ve chosen to keep my distance from you—but make no mistake, I’ve been watching you like a hawk since day one. Waiting for any signs of trouble. Waiting for you to fuck up. Waiting for you to give me a good reason to throw your ass out of this community because I didn’t trust you. Not after all the things I was told about you.”

He snorts. “You goin’ somewhere with this?”

“You are not who I thought you were,” Maria admits, smiling wryly. “I’ve gotten to see a different side of you. You pull your weight around here by doing your job and doing it well. You stay out of trouble—for the most part. And more importantly, I have seen the way that you’ve stepped up to be a father figure to Ellie. It takes a good man to do that, Joel.”

“Think that’s the nicest fuckin’ thing you’ve ever said to me,” he muses, setting his mug down on the counter. “I stepped up because I love her. I love them both. Those two, they’re the best parts of me. They’re the reasons I keep goin’ and now I’ve got another reason on the way.”

Maria smiles, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears.

Catching her hesitance, Joel asks, “What? What is it?”

“What comes next is not going to be easy,” she warns him, lowering her voice. Even with the living room a fair distance from the kitchen, she doesn’t want to run the risk of you overhearing her. “For as hard as we’re going to try to contain the fire, it will spread, and everyone in this town will find out about everything—including the affair. People are going to talk, and believe me, they’re going to have a whole lot to say about it, Joel.”

He can’t help but roll his eyes at her.

“Think I can handle some fuckin’ gossip, Maria.”

“I know you can. But I’m not sure if she can,” Maria tells him, quietly. “It worries me. She’s been through a lot in just one night alone. I don’t want her stressing anymore than she already has. She is in a very delicate stage of her pregnancy right now, Joel. If she’s not careful, she could have a miscarriage. She had one about two years ago when her father became sick—” Observing his lack of a reaction, she realizes, “You knew that already.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. He knows where she’s going with this. “I did. She told me ‘bout it.”

“It makes her chances of having another one higher—”

Joel doesn’t even allow himself to think of it happening to you again. “I get it,” he interjects, trying not to sound too curt. “I’ll make sure she takes it real easy, alright?”

Lifting a hand off her belly, she reaches out and takes a hold of his forearm, gripping it tightly.

“Promise me something, Joel. Promise me that you’ll look after her,” Maria pleads him, gently. “Please. After everything she’s been through—I need you to promise me that she’s going to be in good hands with you.”

He nods. Without thinking, he places his hand over hers in an unexpected token of affection and reassurance. “You have my word, Maria. I’ll take good care of her.”

She gives his arm a grateful squeeze, then glances over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. “It’s getting pretty late. We don’t know how much longer Tommy’s going to be with the council. Why don’t we just go ahead and call it a night?” she suggests. “We can all get together first thing in the morning at your place to talk about it.”

“Yeah, good idea,” he agrees. “She really needs to rest.”

Maria gives his arm another squeeze.

“Go on then, Joel. Take your girls home.”

“Finally!” Ellie exclaims with a dramatic flail of her arms as she shoves through the front door.

“Alright, kiddo. Get your behind upstairs and into the shower,” Joel instructs her, flipping on the lights in the foyer. “Y’smell like fuckin’ horse shit.”

She lifts the collar of her shirt to her nose, takes a whiff, and makes a face. “Yeah, I won’t argue with you there,” she mutters. She toes off her dirty sneakers and leaves them beside the door before dashing up the staircase, taking two steps at a time.

He shouts after her, “And don’t use up all the hot—”

“Yeah, yeah, I fucking know the rules, dude!”

Moments later, you both hear the shower going.

“Little shit,” he grumbles.

You exhale an amused huff through your nose.

Joel withdraws his arm from around your shoulders and reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together. “C’mon, darlin’.” He guides you up the stairs and down the hallway into his bedroom where he switches on the light before proceeding to lead you over to his dresser. “I’ve got a bunch of shirts in this top drawer here,” he says. Dropping your hand, he pulls it open for you and gestures to it with a jut of his chin as he takes a step backwards, moving out of the way. “Go ahead and pick one to sleep in tonight. Want you to be comfortable, so help yourself to whichever one you want, sweet girl.”

Nodding, you begin to rummage through the drawer, unaware of the moment he slips away. You reach for a t-shirt, but then a plaid green flannel catches your eye. You pluck it from the drawer, running your fingers over the soft, warm fabric. “Is it alright if I wear—?” You turn around, stopping mid sentence when you realize he’s no longer standing behind you. Puzzled, you follow the sound of running water into the bathroom where you find him kneeling beside the tub. “Joel? What are you doing?”

“Runnin’ you a bath.”

You notice the bloodied bandage beside him on the tile floor. “Joel, are you serious?” you scold him. “Maria just patched your hand up for you.”

“S’okay, peach. I can rewrap it when we’re done.” Joel sticks his injured hand under the faucet to check the temperature, the cold water soothing his cuts. Once it turns warm, then hot, he pulls out his hand, waiting for the tub to fill halfway before shutting the faucet off and rising to his feet. “C’mere, sweetheart.” He rolls the sleeves of his shirt up to his forearms, then beckons for you with both of his hands. “Let’s get you washed up.”

You remain standing by the door. “Joel, you don’t have to do this for me.”

“I know.”

“I’m capable of washing myself—”

“Yeah, I know that too,” he says, chuckling. “S’only fair, darlin’. Don’t you think?”

That’s when it hits you—how this moment is mirroring that night you had cleaned Joel up after you and Ellie had brought him home from the clinic with an injured shoulder. He allowed you to take care of him, and now, he was looking to do the same for you. And all you had to do was let him.

“But your hand—”

“Will be just fine,” Joel persists, stubbornly. “It’s nothin’ but a few cuts and scrapes. C’mon—or else I’m gonna march right over there and get you myself, peach.”

Knowing Joel, you certainly wouldn’t put it past him to throw you over his should and carry you to the bathtub.

“Fine,” you relent with a small sigh of defeat.

Setting his shirt down on the sink, you slowly walk over towards him and whirl around, letting him help you out of your knitted cardigan. You finish undressing yourself, inhaling a deep breath as you muster up the courage to turn back around and face him—when you finally do, it feels like a punch to the gut to see the heartbreak in his dark brown eyes, the subtle tremble of his bottom lip. You don’t have to look at yourself in the mirror to know it looks about a hundred times worse when you’re not wearing clothes.

Keeping your arms down at your sides, you fight every urge to cover yourself up. You’ve never felt so fucking vulnerable.

Clearing his throat, Joel holds out his hand. “C’mere.”

You accept it, and he helps you into the tub.

“How’s the water? S’not too hot, is it?”

You shake your head and he leans forward, kissing your temple so sweetly, your eyes flutter closed.

He washes your hair first, then takes a clean washcloth, lathering it up with a bar of milk and honey soap—the same soap he would smell on your skin all those nights. Admittedly, Joel preferred castile soap, but switched it when he found himself missing you during those weeks you were apart from him, when he needed the comfort of your scent. He is gentle with you, so gentle, as if he’s afraid you’ll shatter into pieces in his hands.

As he lightly drags the washcloth up your back and around your neck, you stiffen, prompting him to freeze too. “Fuck. Baby, did I hurt you?” he asks, and you hear the slight panic in his tone.

“No,” you say quickly, desperately trying to swallow the lump rising in your throat. “No, you didn’t hurt me. It’s just—” Every overwhelming emotion slams into you all at once, and you can’t seem to figure out which one to feel first. Humiliation? Fear? Relief?

The water sloshes around you as you pull your legs up to your chest and wrap your arms around your knees, giving yourself permission to feel them all. Bowing your head, you begin to sob quietly, hoping that Ellie, who is just down the hallway, won’t hear you crying again.

Joel says nothing. Washcloth still clutched in his hand, he leans forward over the edge of the tub and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, or at least, as close as the barrier between the two of you will allow him.

“Joel,” you choke, trying to push him off. “Stop it. Your clothes, they’re getting all wet.”

“Hush. Don’t fuckin’ care ‘bout my clothes,” he croaks, and for a second, you swear he’s about to cry too. But he doesn’t. He holds himself strong. Tugging you closer against his chest, he buries his nose into your soaking wet hair, whispering his reassurance. “You’re okay, baby. You’re safe, my sweet girl. I’ve got you, alright?”

He pulls back slightly, dipping his hand into the water, placing it on your lower belly.

You look down, your eyes glazing over his bruised and battered knuckles. Proof that Joel Miller really would do anything for you.

“I know you do,” you say, softly. “I know you’ve got me, Joel.”

A while later, you’re dried, dressed, and composed. You follow Joel out of the bathroom and back into his room, where he has you take a seat on the bed. Noticing you had missed a button on his flannel shirt, he does it for you. He plants a kiss on the top of your head and says, “Give me a minute while I change.”

He peels off his wet clothes, being careful so as not to further agitate his sore, injured hand. After changing into a pair of gray sweatpants and an old, faded black t-shirt, he turns around only to find you’re sitting in bed underneath the covers.

“Sorry,” you apologize with a nervous chuckle as you rest your back against the headboard. “It just looked so warm and cozy—and it smells like you. I couldn’t resist making myself comfortable.”

Joel pads over to the side of the bed. He leans over, planting one hand on either side of you as he dips his head and brushes his lips against yours. “Ain’t got no reason to apologize, baby,” he assures you in a gentle murmur. “This is your bed now too, peach. This is your room. This is your home. Alright?”

Home.

You’re home.

He touches the tip of his nose to yours, and then draws himself back up to full height. “There’s somethin’ that I’ve gotta take care of downstairs, peach. I won’t be too long,” he promises.

It’s almost midnight. Joel goes about the kitchen and he prepares you the quickest meal that he can think of. He plates the sandwich he’d thrown together and pours a glass of cow’s milk—he’s always sure to keep a pint of it in the refrigerator to make the kid her oatmeal in the mornings.

He heads back upstairs, only to find that while he had been gone, Ellie had joined you, making herself a little too comfortable on his side of the bed. He stands there at the door, watching the two of you.

“Hey, so is it true babies can hear stuff while they’re in there?” Ellie questions you, curiously.

“Mhm,” you reply with a nod. “They can hear music, for example. Voices—”

“Voices?” She smushes her face into your stomach and he hears a muffled, “Hey, dude!”

You giggle. “Ellie, I think it’s still a little too early.”

“When do you think it’ll be able to hear me?”

“I’m not too sure. In a few months, maybe?”

Ellie lifts her head, humming. “You know, I bet there’s baby books in the library,” she tells you as she sits up. “I’ll have Dina help me look for one tommor—oh shit.” She stares at you with wide eyes. “Dina! How are you going to tell her and Talia about Luke?”

Joel grimaces. He hadn’t thought of that, either.

“I—I’m not too sure.”

“You have to fucking tell them. Dina has to know about him. She has to know what a piece of shit he is, and so does Talia.”

Sensing your discomfort, Joel steps into the bedroom and intervenes before she can say another word. “Ellie, get to bed. S’late.”

“But—”

“Don’t make me tell you again,” he warns her, sternly.

She huffs, rolling her eyes. “Fine.” She climbs off the bed and on her way out, she eyes the plate in his hand. “That chicken?”

“Turkey. And it ain’t for you, it’s for her. So scram, kid.”

“Couldn’t have made me one while you were at it, old man?”

“Ellie, if you don’t get outta here right now—”

“Alright!” Ellie holds her hands up. “I’m leaving. Jesus.”

She disappears, closing the door behind her.

“Pain in my ass,” Joel mumbles, shaking his head as he walks over and carefully perches himself beside you. He hands you the plate. “Here, darlin’.”

“Joel, I appreciate this, but I’m really not very hungry.”

“Maybe not, but y’gotta eat,” he insists. “Baby needs it.”

Thankfully, you accept it without further protest.

“I’ll have Ellie get your things tomorrow,” Joel states as you’re eating. “Maria can go along with her since she knows the house. They’ll get your clothes and whatever else you might need outta there.”

“My father’s belongings.” You accidentally talk through a mouthful of turkey and bread. Swallowing, you tell him, “I have some boxes of his stuff in the basement. But they’re way too heavy for either of them to carry.”

“I’ll take care of that for you.” He reaches up, wiping a breadcrumb from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “I can ask Tommy to give me a hand. Don’t you worry, peach. We won’t leave your dad’s things behind, I swear it.”

Relieved, you shoot him a grateful look, then polish off the last few bites of your sandwich.

“Here,” he says, offering you the glass of milk. “Figured it’s good for you, and good for the baby. Y’know, since it’s got calcium and…stuff.” He shrugs sheepishly, no clue as to what he’s talking about. “Vitamins, right?”

Nodding, you grab the glass and take a reluctant sip.

“You hate milk,” Joel realizes, raising an eyebrow.

“I do,” you admit with a laugh. “But you’re right. It’s good for both me and the baby, so cheers.” And with that, you somehow force the entire glass down.

He sets the dishes aside on the nightstand, figuring he can take them downstairs first thing in the morning.

Without bothering to rebandage his hand like he’d told you he would, Joel turns off the lights and climbs into bed with you. “All those nights wishin’ I could bring you home,” he muses as you curl into his side. “Wantin’ nothin’ more than to hold you in my arms in this bed. In our bed.” His arm slips around your shoulders, a laugh rumbling through his chest. “Almost doesn’t feel real, darlin’.”

Tilting your head, you nuzzle your nose into the scruff of his beard, prompting him to laugh again. Then, he remembers his conversation with Maria, and his smile fades from his face, his lips pursing together.

You catch the sudden shift in his demeanor.

“Joel? What’s the matter?”

“M’fine, baby. It’s just—” He hesitates. “From this point forward, I need you to let me handle things.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want you gettin’ all stressed out, alright? I don’t want to run the risk of you—” He’s unsure of how to say it.

“Of me losing the baby,” you finish for him, quietly.

Joel winces, knowing he was wandering into sensitive territory. “Yeah. I—I really don’t want that to happen.” He pauses. “Maria mentioned to me you’re in a delicate stage. When do you reckon you’ll stop—how long until you don’t gotta worry ‘bout it?”

“After twelve weeks, my risk isn’t as high. If I make it to the second trimester in six weeks, then my chances of having another miscarriage are lower.”

Though you speak calmly, he clocks your anxiousness.

You’re worried, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t fucking worried out of his mind too.

Being a father at his age wasn’t ideal, but he wanted this child. It was part of him, and more importantly, it was a part of you.

Joel squeezes your shoulders. “I only ask ‘cause I was thinkin’ that, y’know, once we get to that point, maybe I can go ahead and start buildin’ the baby’s crib.”

“You’re going to build the crib?”

He nods. “And the highchair too. I can even make you a diaper changin’ table if y’want one.”

“Joel.” You can’t help but chuckle. “Our worlds were just turned completely upside down. You just found out that I’m pregnant, and you’re already thinking about building furniture? Aren’t we getting a little ahead of ourselves?”

“Hey, those things take a whole ‘lotta time,” he says in defense of himself. “Besides, winter’s right around the corner and I don’t wanna be out in the garage freezin’ my fuckin’ ass off. If I can get a head start now, I can have them all done in the spring by the time the baby comes.”

You fall silent.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I’m really scared of losing it,” you confess. “When I first took that pregnancy test, I wanted nothing more for it to be negative. Now, I’m terrified I won’t make it past my first trimester again. I really don’t want to lose it. I want this baby, Joel.”

He turns his head, meeting your eyes in the silver light shining through the lace curtains over his window. “S’why you’ve gotta let me handle things, darlin’. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“C’mere, my sweet girl.” Joel presses his lips to yours, murmuring against them, “I love you.”

His declaration comes with natural ease.

And so does yours.

“I love you too, Joel.”

#fic: a safe haven #fic: ash #tw dv #tw domestic violence #tw pregnancy #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller series #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #the last of us fanfiction

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fan2 when I die I want to be reincarnated as y/n🙏🏼

landonorris

liked by oscarpiastri, danielricciardo and 547,281 others

landonorris had a ball in miami🏐⛱️

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maxfewtrell I’m sure you did ;)

mclaren the best helmet of 2024

fan1 someone tell me that’s not y/n before I lose my mind

fan2 not to sound delusional but surely the camera is a hint that it’s y/n

yourusername added to their story

landonorris

liked by alexalbon, oscarpiastri and 569,309 others

tagged: yourusername

landonorris that’s a wrap 📷yourusername

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fan1 the way he looks at her behind the camera🥹

oscarpiastri great season mate

mclaren enjoy your break!

yourusername same time next year?

-> maxfewtrell don’t think he would survive that long without you

-> landonorris shut it

-> fan2 👀

fan3 just put us all out of our misery and get together already

liked by oscarpiastri

-> fan4 not Oscar liking this💀

maxfewtrell

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 412,637 others

tagged: yourusername, landonorris, yourbff

maxfewtrell ladies man

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fan1 2 words… hand. placement.

fan2 as if they’ve gone skiing together omggg

fan3 the way lando and y/n naturally gravitate closer to each other… I’ll be sleeping on the motorway tonight

yourusername don’t boost his ego any more than it already is

yourusername added to their story

yourusername

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 431,786 others

yourusername oops

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oscarpiastri still can’t get over how lando took that picture before helping

-> landonorris hey! In my defence I then drove her to hospital

-> yourusername just about forgiven…

danielricciardo why would this only happen to you

fan1 noooo get well soon!!

mclaren get well soon y/n🧡

fan2 can we also talk about the fact that Lando drove her to hospital🥺

landonorris

liked by yourusername, lewishamilton and 872,437 others

tagged yourusername, maxfewtrell, yourbff, pietra.pilao, martingarrix, oscarpiastri

landonorris ski trip + muppet❤️

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fan1 OMG I KNEW IT

fan2 THE LAST PICTURE IM DEAD

maxfewtrell 🤢

-> yourusername you were the one who intervened to get us together cos we were being idiots…

-> fan3 everyone say thank you max!

-> landonorris thank you max

-> yourusername simp

-> landonorris do you want another broken arm

-> yourusername love you really❤️

lewishamiton congrats guys!

carlossainz55 finally

danielricciardo finally

maxverstappen1 finally

alexalbon finally

fan4 the way the whole grid have been waiting for this

mclaren congrats to our favourites🧡🧡

#lando norris #lando norris social media au #lando norris smau #lando x reader #formula one #lando norris one shot #f1 x reader

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essentiallyleaf · 7 months

Text

day 20. cockwarming. with. jisoo.

1105 words.

tags.

kinktober ‘23, idol x male reader, cockwarming, angst, i don’t even know anymore, possibly the coldest cockwarming fic to ever exist, so much angst and for what.

notes.

short and a little rushed. sounds just like every day of my life. exhaustedly, leaf.

You plop down on the bed, barely able to take your black dress pants off before the dizziness gets the best of you. Jisoo is there, laying still, facing away from you and towards the cloud-shielded moon outside of the open window, like she always is. You can’t really tell if she’s awake or not, and the alcohol certainly doesn’t help.

This must be what they mean when they talk about magnetic fields. We’re immersed in them all the time, but we can’t see it, something about a wavelength our eyes are not tuned to. It’s like even when it’s past your bedtime (which on a weekend night like tonight is at least three hours after your regular bedtime), the sky completely starless, when you zig-zag through the streets and keeping your balance requires a voluntary effort, when your white shirt has more than one almost fully dried Bordeaux stain on it, you don’t know why or how, but your red needle always points back home, back to her.

You always manage to find your way to your shared bed, well, shared right in this moment, but often, too often one could easily argue, the bed feels hollow and freezing as Jisoo’s in it alone. Maybe that’s why the first thing she does when you lie down on it, is take your strong arm and wrap it around her waist to hold her close and share some of your alcohol-boosted warmth, and keep her own arm over it as if to ask you to never let go, never leave her again. She’s awake. Your natural response is to use your other hand to brush her long, silky black hair and watch it flow through your fingers, but as she feels your breath caress her shoulders, she knows that you can’t promise much more than that.

This shouldn't work. Well, to be fair, it isn’t working. But throwing stuff away, whether it’s dropping old photos in the fireplace, or leaving an entire relationship behind you to possibly never see your special person again, that hurts. It’s not just about the value of it, no, if that was the case, if that thing you’re throwing away still brought value to you, then you wouldn't be getting rid of it, right? It’s about admitting that something went wrong along the road, that things didn’t work out, that a wrong turn was taken, and that maybe, you were the one who took it. So the only thing you can do is turn away, keep going down that road, and if you ever happen to look back in a moment of accidental lucidity, justify your own mistakes.

So Jisoo reaches back and starts rubbing the outer side of your naked thigh, slowly traveling up to your ass as you lay a trail of quick kisses on her shoulder. Once she starts fiddling with the hem of your boxers and pushing her own butt back towards you, you get the message. You take your underwear off and stroke your dick a couple times before her nightgown is hiked up and her cheeks fully envelop your length. Your pecks take a trip up to her neck while both of you start shifting your hips up and down, back and forth against one another’s, a couple of low moans leaving your mouth.

It was your fault, but what if it wasn’t? What if that girl, what was her name even, hadn’t asked you for a lighter? What if she hadn’t looked at you all night with those warm brown eyes, what if she hadn’t asked you for a ride home? Any of those would’ve fixed this. The nights of yelling at each other’s faces and the nights of dead silence, the feeling of unbridgeable distance even when holding hands, the cool air of beach days in the middle of August. Maybe invisible walls are the best solution in some cases, and fuck it if they break some people’s immersion, as long as you can see the sun rise in the distance, you can live with not being able to touch it.

Jisoo suddenly stops her motion just to raise her thigh a little, suggesting you to enter. You align yourself with her slit and penetrate her warmth, her slick coating easing you through her walls and quickly letting you bottom out inside her, but as soon as you try to retreat, she puts a hand on your hip, halting its movement. She just places her thigh back down and stays still for a few seconds. A few seconds that enclose some kind of understanding, or, a feeling of understanding, at the very least. Most of the times when you have a revelation, an epiphany, you have no idea what the fuck is being revealed to you, you only see the light bulb turn on. Your kisses get wetter and longer, traveling from her upper neck to her ear and to her jaw, your hand finds itself on her soft, perfectly sized mound. She starts contracting her abdominal muscles repeatedly and rhythmically, squeezing your shaft between her tight walls, your pelvis still fixed in its place. You see her skin glow more than usual under the faint moonlight, and you think you taste a little salt as your tongue brushes her cheek, which you can’t help but groan on every time Jisoo tenses around you.

Invisible walls are not meant to be broken. They’re meant to disengage, to discourage. What does it say about us when they manage to do what they’re meant to? Is it sad, disheartening? Does it speak about our sense of agency as a whole? What if you did something different, what if it was your fault? You can’t go back, so what can you do about it now? Another night of getting drunk, another night of having sex, in each other’s embrace but miles away.

Your hand feels up her thigh as hers reaches between your legs from the back and starts massaging your testicles. You can’t hold back anymore. Her abs contract once, twice. You stop counting, she feels too good. Your thigh wraps around hers as you cum inside, letting out multiple guttural moans right next to her ear. You drop load after load of white paint onto her walls and into her womb.

You think you hear a little sniffle. Again, the only response is to caress her hair and leave one long kiss on the back of her head. Not more. Sometimes we hurt people that love us, love people that hurt us. And if it’s true that opposites attract, then likes must also repel.

footnotes.

sorry if this is depressing. how can i help you get back to horny, the superior mood? lunatically, leaf.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #girl group smut #idol smut #female idol smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #idol x reader #idol x male reader #blackpink #jisoo #kim jisoo #blackpink jisoo #blackpink smut #jisoo smut #kim jisoo smut #blackpink jisoo smut

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koliejeon · 3 months

Text

Tainted by You - JJK

╰┈➤ 𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: nerd yandere jk x queen bee reader!

╰┈➤ 𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: who would have thought that being tainted by the nerd Jeon Jungkook would feel this good.

╰┈➤ 𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 3.3k+

╰┈➤ 𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: manipulation, gaslighting, dumbification cock riding, fingering, dom jk, sub! reader, cream pie, squirting, size kink, blackmailing, yandere jk, slightly mean jk, degradation.

You're considered the queen bee of your university, the one who's always seen as the epitome of perfection, with everyone admiring how much of a pretty face and a smart student you are. Being looked up to by everyone on this kind of level really boosts your ego, so it's a shame if anyone would know how much of a moaning bitch you are while riding the cock of the biggest nerd in school, Jeon Jungkook.

But It's not your fault that he just fucks you too good...

He’s just too good at it that you can’t help youself coming back for more, even if you fully knew that this would taint your reputation as a queen bee. I mean, everyone’s expecting you to date someone who’s on your level, and not just a nerd dude with a messy curly black hair and thick glasses that just covers his features.

But to your defense, he’s not what everyone is thinking of him of. That boy who’s always shy around people, and just keeps himself accompanied with his books has a totally different persona when it’s just the two of you alone. He’s not shy, he’s actually arrogant, mean, manipulative and hot…

Yeah, hot… like how hot the depts of hell could feel like.

It all started last month when your stupid history professor decided to paired you up with him for a project. You didn’t have a problem with it, you thought that with this project, he might open up with you and to others instead of being that awkward nerd guy that everyone hates.

╰┈➤ 𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙝

The bell rang as a sign that the class discussion has already ended and that it’s now time for lunch. “You may now leave the class, don’t forget to communicate with your partners and discuss the project” Mr. Lim, your History professor, reminded to everyone as they started packing their things to leave the class. Some replied a simple “yes” to him, while some didn’t bother and just hurriedly leave the room before the canteen seats would run out.

“Y/N, hurry up, let’s go now!” Jennie, who’s one of your friends said to you as she’s waiting for you near the classroom’s door. You smiled at here and was about to say something along the lines of “Yeah, i’m coming,” but you got distracted when you saw the boy in one of the backseats, he looks so lonely in there packing his things ever so slowly – probably taking his time since no one is inviting him anyway to go for a lunch, and for some reason you felt pity for him. “Actually, just go ahead first, I remember I have something to do this time” you lied to her, and she simply just agreed to what you said as she quickly tag along with her other friends.

Now it’s just the two of you alone in the classroom, you awkwardly approach him… unsure of how to start a conversation with him. “Uhm… Jungkook right?” you asked even know the answer is already obvious. He looked up at you and stared at you for atleast 5 seconds before responding “Y-yeah that’s me” he managed to mutter that out with a little stutter. You thought he was just shy, and you hate it. This is literally the reason why he’s being made fun of by those bullies. You brushed off that thought as you brightly smiled at him, “Great! I’m Y/N, Mr. Lim paired us up for the project. I suggest if we start doing it as early as possible”

“I’m okay with that” he simply replied.

“I’m free later, are you okay with that? I just don’t know where we can do the project though, My apartment is not that great since it’s small and I’m sharing it with Jennie” You stated, already feeling comfortable in conversing with him even though he’s not literally replying anything and just looking at you. You guess he’s more of a listener rather than a talker. “Aha! How about we do the project at your place?” you suggested out of nowhere. The project has to do with arts and crafts, so coffee shops are not the best place to do the project.

Jungkook eyes seemed to widen from being shock with what you’ve said. He can't even believe it. You want to go to his house??? This is something straight out from his dreams.

“Y-yeah…sure, why not” he was really glad and euphoric that you’ve said that, but his reply came like he was just forced to say yes. “Great! You can send me your address” you said, and he frowned but not enough for you to notice, what do you mean by that? You don’t wanna go with him together at his house later? “Uhm… lets just go together later” he suggested, and you nervously chuckled, no way your gonna go with him after class, people might see you and probably make fun of you for hanging out with a weird guy like him.

“But-”

“It’s kind of far away from here and you might get lost” he explained without stuttering, while straightly looking in your eyes. Those thick glasses might have cover his intense gaze, but definitely not the tension that’s starting to form in the room.

There’s this something from his aura, it’s like a sudden change that you could clearly figure out, but it surely made you nervous as you gulped. You wanted to say something but you were unable to get the right word out of your mouth, so instead you simply just agreed with him “...m’kay” you said while looking at the ground like a child who got declined by your parents to buy the toy that you wanted in the store.

Yeah, you wanted to somehow talk to him, but not like this! You were sulking with the idea and Jungkook found it cute that he smirk at your behavior. He broke the silence by saying good bye to you for now, “So I guess were already settled? I’ll see you at the parking lot”

╰┈➤ 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙥𝙨 - 𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙤𝙩

It’s already 6 PM when I headed in the parking lot as I try to spot where Jungkook might be. Classes are already finished at 5:30 PM but I made sure to be late so that no one familiar would spot me getting onto Jungkook’s vehicle. This almost feels like I’m doing some sort of a crime, even though I am not. After a few minutes of searching he spots me and raised his hand to get my attention. I immediately went into his direction and damn… I just don’t know how to feel.

He’s leaning in a black sedan that I suppose is his with his left hand in his pocket and the other hand holding a cigarette. This is the only time that I’ve noticed he has veiny hands. Just what the actual fuck! It feels like I’m looking at the same person from an hour ago! He’s definitely not the typical nerd you get to see everyday. I mean, a nerd with a sedan who’s looking hot as ever while smoking?! I was basically gawking at the new sight, and I only got out from my delusions when he cleared his throat.

“Let’s go?” He said as he throw the cigarette on the ground and stomped on it. “Yeah” is the only thing I was able to mutter as I went to the passenger side of his car. I buckled my seatbelt on, and he started driving. He was wearing a ripped jeans and a grey Calvin Clien hoodie that he later on re-adjusted, exposing his left arm that is covered with tattoos. Do I even fully know this guy??? It seems like all those school gossips about him are just pure lies.

He was not lying, his house was really a bit far from the University, not to mention the slight traffic on the way. His house was located somewhere inside of an expensive looking village.

“You live here?” You asked after getting out of his car. The house was big, and looks expensive with a modern touch to its’ architecture. “Yeah, my parents gifted it to me last year” he replied like it was nothing as he guided you through the main entrance of his house. What kind of parents would gift their child an expensive house?! For fucks sake he didn’t even graduated yet or is about to get married. His parents must be crazy rich like those in the movies.

“I already have the needed materials, is it okay for you to wait here? I just needed to freshen up”

“Ugh… yeah sure. I’ll just play some music in my phone” I said, and he simply chuckled before opening the television for me without saying anything. I feel poor being here., well yeah my parents are also well-off, but not on this level! Waiting for him for at least 25 minutes was boring so I just made myself at home as I watched the movie playing in the television.

“You should take a picture” he suddenly said which caught me off guard

“I- what?”

“You’re looking at me a little too much”

“No I wasn’t!” I tried to deny it even though it was already obvious as my face became as red as a tomato from being so embarrassed, that I choosed to look on the floor, being shy to even look at him” Inside of my head, I was scolding myself for acting that way, he must have now think of me as a pervert!

He started approaching me, and before I knew it, he lifted up my chin as he cupped my face with both of his hands so that I would look at him. We we’re both looking at each other’s eyes, and then everything just happened so fast, I didn’t even know why I let It happen, but we we’re now passionately kissing as both of our tongues fought for dominance in which he obviously won. We were now in his bedroom but before things could get even more heated, I tap his shoulder thrice as a sign that I want it to stop. Gladly, he accepted my request and pulled back, “This is wrong” I simply told him, and a that made him ‘tsk’ as his face contorted an annoyed look.

“Wrong? Tell me what’s wrong about this Y/N?!” He answered back, he’s clearly not liking what I’ve told him but him. I can’t just answer him by saying that I don’t want to be associated with someone like him, people would make fun of me, and my reputation as a queen bee who’s always been perfect would be tainted. I don’t want them to think that choosing Jungkook was a bad decision, and that I’ve made a wrong decision. But I just can’t also tell that to Jungkook, I don’t want him to feel bad himself even though those are the true reason. I remained silent without moving a single inch of my body, my hand are still in his shoulder while he’s arms are wrapped on my waist. We were standing in the middle of the room, but even though were close enough, I didn’t had the urge to look in his eyes even though I know that he’s looking at me with burning gaze.

“What? You don’t know how to answer now? Cat got your tongue? Or you’re stupid little mind can’t just comprehend simple things?!” All his words hurt like hell, I didn’t even realize he could say such mean things to me, when all I knew is that we was that shy nerd boy at the back of the class who doesn’t even know how to fight back from his bullies. “Stupid Y/N, can’t even explain herself” he continued belittling me and it was all to much that I burst out and cry myself in his chest. He was shocked for a while but then embraced me in his arms as he let me cry all my worries while shushing me down “Shhh it’s okay darling, I know you’re little brain hurts from thinking too much, you don’t have to think, that’s my job, and you only have to follow what I say, right? It’s true, my mind was clouded and it hurts, so I just let him embrace me while drawing circles on my back.

It stayed like that for a while but then Jungkook drop the bomb, “I know you think it’s wrong because it would taint your reputation. Their poor queen bee Lee Y/N dating the nerd Jeon Jungkook? Doesn’t sound good to them right?” I look up at him, unable to say anything, and that just made me tear up more. “I’m sorry” I muttered to him as I buried myself in his bare chest, the citrus scent of his body wash engulfing my nostrils.

“Shhh… it’s okay baby, I know how much you love the attention the campus is giving you, it makes your dumb ego grow right? But the thing is, you ONLY need my attention”

“I’m sorry - Y/N’s really sorry” I said, already at my worst point as I continued to cry. I feel like a bad person based on what’s he’s telling me, but that’s the truth, I’m too self-concious of what people will say to me, I’m someone who starved attention, and I just feel bad that Jungkook has to know that side of me, and I’m now thinking that I hurted his feelings because I was too selfish. So I kept on apologizing “Gguk, Y/N’s sorry, please forgive her”

Jungkook smirked in victory, he knew he fully had you in control, oh just how easy it is to manipulate you. To break you into pieces so that he can fix you again, and then make feel like he’s the only one who can fix and save you from yourself.

“Shh… I was really hurt, darling. What you did was wrong, how come you think of me as a person that would taint your reputation when all I do is love you from a far?” that made me feel guilty more…

“But I would forgive you if…

“If what? Please tell me, Gguk, I will make it up to you, I promise!” I said, feeling determined to fix my mistake.

“If you make love with me. Prove me that you love me, that you need me, and that you’re not afraid to be tainted by me” and so, without much thought, I kissed him deeply, I opened my mouth, inviting him to intertwine his tongue in my hot cavern, as he lifted my shirt and carry me on his bed. I am now laying on my back, the tension from both us rising as I hurriedly removed my pants, leaving me in my underwear. The sight infront of me, him hovering above me as he continued kissing me while exploring every inch of my body had me whimpering in his bed. He started attacking my neck, making sure to leave as many hickies he could so that everyone knows I’m his.

His right hand started massaging my breast while the one started licking and sucking my nipple. The pleasure was just too good to be true, and after a seconds, my buds now sensitive and hardened as I continued moaning shamelessly. The pleasure that he’s giving me was just too god that I started unconciously buckling my hips to his hardened dick. “Too impatients aren’t you?” he teased, and I just whimpered. He took off my panties, looking at my dripping core, already wet for him. “Please hurry,” “Easy there, princess we have to to adjust your pretty little pussy first so it woudn’t hurt that much, okay?” he’s talking to me as if I’m some dumb kid, it was embarrasing but it makes me more turned on. Two fingers were pushed in my hole, I was shocked at the sudden intrusion but he soothed it by drawing circles on clit. “See? My fingers are even too much for you, how can you properly take my cock if you’re like that?” I wanted to disagree with him but I coudn’t utter a single word as he started fastly moving his digits inside me. “One more, please” he only chuckled after hearing that, and I’ve never felt so pathetic in my entire life. He must’ve known that I’m being dumbly determined just to impress him, but I later regret that when he fulfilled my wish.

“As you wish, darling” the third finger definitely burned my inside like hell, he’s fingers are not just long but also thick. After some time, my moans got louder and louder as I trembled in his fingers, and before I knew it, I squirted a lot, but he didn’t stop from fingering me, until I was begging him to stop “Ggukie…. To-too much please” and with that he removed his fingers on me...

“You haven’t even got the real thing yet. Plus you promised me, you would make it up for me, right? I was really hurt you know?”

“Sorry, I forgot” I embarrassedly admitted with a pout and he only chuckled at me “I know, it’s okay, I’m always here to remind you”

“Have you tried riding a cock before?” his question caught me off guard,

“What??? No I’ve never! Plus… you’re actually my first”

“Good, cause I will make sure that that person would die, if someone comes first on you before me. How about you become a good girl and right my dick, yeah? Prove me that you’re really sorry” I blushed at his statement but I didn’t bother to disagree with his request, I was at fault and I should make it up.

He’s leaning on the headboard right now, and Ii’m straddling his lap, while he lined up his cock in my entrance. I started moving down ever so slowly, but Jungkook was patient enough. But you know what they say, patience can also grew out easily, “What if it hurts?” I dumbly asked him, knowing that it would hurt more after seeing his size. He’s length is around 7 inch and it’s very thick, “It’s supposed to hurt, Darling” and with that, both of his hands pushed me down on his length, it hurt at first, but after a few seconds of adjusting, it felt like a bliss of heaven. I continued to bounce up and down on his length while moaning loudly as he played with my boobs, “Touch your clit, love” I did as what I was told and it was the best feeling I could ever imagine. Later on, I grew tired and cummed on his dick, but he didn’t stop there, instead he controlled my hip movement as he buckled is hips to reach his high and cum deep inside me. I was already pliant as black out after the session.

You may have not seen it, but Jungkook had the biggest grin of victory on his face, as he removed his now soften length inside your pussy. You’re already passed out, so Jungkook took the time to clean both of you as he covered your body with clean sheets. Little did you know, everything was recorded, from the moment the two of you step in his room. Jungkook would surely play the video sometime to jerk on you, and maybe use it for blackmail if you started acting up. But for now, you don’t have to know anything, what the two of you have, the thing that he made you believe, is already enough for him, cause he succesfully tainted you.

#yandere jungkook #jungkook #bts fanfic #fanfic #jungkook ff #smut #bts smut

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tangledupinyellow · 17 days

Text

A Hard Day's Night | Joel Miller X F!Reader

authors note: after a hell of a lot of internet problems, here's a little something that's been chilling in my drafts!

summary: You’ve been waiting all day for Joel to come home from work.

warnings/tags: 18+, no use of y/n, no outbreak au, nicknames (darling, baby girl, good girl), oral (m receiving), praise kink, some face fucking, Joel finishing in readers mouth

word count: 1.8k

You knew that sound all too well, the sound of the front door creaking open, followed by a groan and a rustle of a jacket being taken off. Joel had gotten off late yet again from his shift, something you were used to by now.

You were still up, lying in bed while staring at the ceiling with your hands folded on your chest. You always had trouble sleeping without Joel by your side, which kept you awake while waiting for him to come home. Even after years of dating, you couldn’t sleep without knowing he wasn’t there next to you.

Joel groggily slipped off his shoes and went straight to the living room couch, just dying to sit down. He let out a satisfied groan, the feeling of sitting down on something comfortable being just what he needed.

He tiredly rubbed his face and eyes, trying to regain some energy. His body was sore, and his head was pounding. These late nights at work were starting to take a toll on him.

Leaning back against the couch, he tried to relax, seeking any comfort he could from the soft cushions. He took his head out of his hands and ran them through his hair with a sigh. It was a relief to finally be back home.

You threw your legs off the bed and put your robe on, making your way out of the bedroom to go and check on him to see how his day was. Furrowing his eyebrows, he looked over when he heard the bedroom door open.

“I thought you were asleep,” Joel mumbled. His voice made it easy to tell how tired he was. He sounded like he had just woken up and was still half asleep.

You shook your head, tying up your robe while walking over to him, “Can’t sleep without you. I wanted to wait ‘till you got home.” You offered him a smile before sitting beside him on the couch.

Joel sighed and shook his head, feeling guilty, “You don’t need to wait for me, darlin’. You need your sleep too, y’know.” He looked at you, dark circles forming underneath his eyes.

You put your hand on his head and shook your head once more, “Can’t fall asleep without you even if I tried,” you told him simply, “Besides, I like being up when you get home. I wanna hear about your day even if it’s nearly midnight.”

He chuckled at this before leaning back against the couch to try and relieve the soreness he felt all over his body, “Wasn’t all that excitin’. I was outside for most of the day, doin’ a lot of hands on work. God, I’m gettin’ too old for this.” He laughed.

You laughed softly with him and rubbed his knee, “Ready to climb into bed?”

Joel thought to himself for a moment before shaking his head, “Thought I’d stay up for a little bit longer, grab something to eat or watch some tv,” he shrugged, “Wanna enjoy myself for at least a little while before I gotta get back to work.”

You nodded understandingly and kept your eyes on him while he reached forward to grab the remote that was sitting on the coffee table. Leaning back in his seat, he pointed the remote to the television to turn it on.

Joel flipped through the channel, his eyes glued on the screen while the light illuminated his face. You, on the other hand, had your eyes glued to him.

You had missed him all day, and you hated to see him so exhausted and beat up from a long, hard day of work.

You squeezed his knee gently and sighed softly while you looked at him, wanting to do whatever you could to make him feel better. And you knew a few ways to instantly boost his mood, especially a few that you would enjoy.

With a slight smirk forming on the corner of your lips, you kissed his cheek before getting off the couch.

Joel looked back over at you with an unmistakable look of confusion on his face. But that look of confusion slowly turned into realization when he saw you get on your knees right in front of him. His eyes widened slightly, there was a faint blush on his cheeks, and his dick twitched in his pants, anticipating what was about to come.

You kept your eyes on him as you unzipped his pants with ease, licking your lips. You enjoyed this just as much as he did. You always loved to make him feel good, and this was one of your favorite ways.

And you knew that this would help him relax almost instantly after a long, long day.

“Darlin’, fuck..” Joel groaned as he watched you pull down his underwear, his cock standing straight up with the tip leaking out a little bit of pre cum.

“I want to help you relax.” You whispered, rubbing his thighs slowly, glancing between his dick and his lust-filled eyes.

Joel bit his lower lip as he stared at you and let out another quiet groan before leaning back in his seat, his arms spread around the couch with his head resting on the cushion. He slowly closed his eyes, allowing himself to fully relax and focus on how you were making him feel.

With a gentle grip, you grabbed the base of his cock and gave it a couple of strokes, your mouth already watering at the sight. He twitched in your hand, and you loved making him wait just a little bit longer and seeing how badly he needed you.

While keeping your eyes on him, you slowly put his tip into your mouth, causing him to suck in a deep breath. He gripped onto the couch cushions while he stared at you, watching your every move. The feeling of his dick in your mouth was one of his most favorite feelings to experience. Each time, it only got better and better, and he could never get sick of it. It was like a drug for him.

You closed your eyes while keeping a tight grip on the base of his cock, easing up and down on the tip with your mouth. You licked over his tip, his pre cum all over your tongue. He moaned at the sensation and stared down at you, slowly moving one of his hands to tangle into your hair.

“Fuck, too damn good at this.” He already sounded out of breath as he spoke. And you’ve barely even started. You’ve just always had this effect on him.

You smirked slightly at his praise and started to take him a little deeper, keeping it gradual while you moved up and down his cock with your mouth.

His eyes were glued onto you, unable to look away. He was mesmerized.

You moved your hand up and down along with your mouth, keeping a tight grip while you went in deeper, knowing precisely what he liked and what he wanted. A moan that left his lips confirmed that for you.

Spit drooled out from your mouth and onto your hand as you quickened up your pace, getting deeper with each time you went back down onto his dick. His breathing was getting hitched, and he tangled his fingers up in your hair, starting to guide you with his hand.

“Mmm yeah, just like that baby girl…” Joel groaned out as he guided your mouth up and down his dick with his hands in your hair.

You hummed against his cock in response and kept going, just like how he wanted.

He rubbed your head and kept his hand in your hair, leaning his head further back so that you could see the veins in his neck when you would glance up at him occasionally.

Your hand moved at the same pace with your mouth, wanting to give him the most pleasure possible. You could feel yourself getting wet in your panties from all of the moans and quiet whimpers you heard from him. With each praise he gave you, you felt yourself getting even wetter. There was nothing better than making him feel like this.

“That’s it, fuck…” Joel moaned a little louder and gripped your hair, a slight growl leaving his throat, “Such a good girl on your knees for me like this…”

When you heard him, a little whimper came from your mouth as well. You could listen to him praise you for hours on end. It made this just as enjoyable and fun for you as it was for him.

You had to resist the urge to reach down to touch yourself, wanting to focus on just him and only him. You wanted to make him feel good, and for now, that was your main focus.

Joel’s lips were parted ever slightly as he stared at you through his eyelashes, his chest heaving up and down slowly. How you looked back up at him with such beautiful big eyes was just what he needed after a hard day of work. All he needed was you.

Spit drooled out from your mouth as you tried to go as deep as you possibly could while still keeping up with the quick pace. Each time, you went deeper than the last, and Joel would let out a moan each time you did.

You could feel that he was getting close by the way his dick twitched in your mouth, and his whimpers became more frequent. You knew this man like the back of your hand, and you knew just what you needed to do to help him finish.

You kept a tight grip and just focused on bringing him to his climax. His hands moved down from your hair onto your shoulders, digging his nails into your shirt. You could feel him shaking just slightly as he held you, signaling he was getting closer.

“Mmm, fuck… Fuck m’gonna cum baby girl…” Joel drew out as he kept his eyes on you, panted breaths leaving his parted lips.

You squeezed and scratched his naked thighs gently, almost as if giving him permission to finish.

One hand gripped onto your shoulder while the other grabbed your hair as he leaned back with a loud moan, spurts of his come flooding into your mouth. You hummed quietly and closed your eyes as you took in every last drop, slowly pulling away and licking his tip cheekily while staring up at him.

Joel had his eyes on you the entire time. He chuckled quietly, letting out a sigh, “You sure do know how to make me feel better, don’t ya?” He laughed, his heart rate still beating rapidly.

You chuckled along with him and licked your lips before slowly sitting back on the couch with him, pecking his lips gently before responding with a grin, “I always do.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel tlou #tlou #the last of us #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #18+#female reader #writing #fiction #smut #joel miller smut #tlou smut #the last of us smut

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bejeweledblondie · 8 months

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imagine noticing königs belt missed a loop and so you go down on your knees in front of him and fix it, and when you stand back up he’s like blushing and panting 😮‍💨

Ah yay! My first request I’m so happy! It’s been years since I’ve written anything, but I’ve come out of retirement so I welcome anything

You’re the supply clerk for KorTac, you provide everything from pens to ammo magazines. Since you’re so articulate & organized nothing gets past you. König had walked in to return some of the extra unused ammo magazines he had signed out. He was incredibly stealthy on the battlefield & oozed confidence whenever he was behind his rifle. But women especially beautiful women much like yourself made him freeze up. Due to his experiences as a child, & teen he never went through the awkward dating phase. You were catching up on some book keeping when he walked in.

“Guten Tag fräuline,” he greeted as he walked in. You looked up from your tablet & smiled at him.

“Good morning König,” you greeted back & walked up to the counter. “What can I do for you?”

His breath hitched as he saw you looking at up at him. He was always used to people staring up at him due to his height. But there was just something about those big glossy doe like eyes. He gulped & tried to piece words in head to form a sentence. You beat him to the punch before he could even get the sentence out.

“Oh I see you’re returning the magazines!” You said pointing to the three magazines he held in his hand. As you pointed, you had noticed his tactical belt was missing a loop. “König, did you know you’re missing a belt loop?” Feeling like he was caught with his pants around his ankles he shook his head. “Well let me help you silly.” You said & walk around the counter. Before he could even react you were already on your knees undoing his belt to fix the missing loop. You couldn’t tell due to the sniper hood but he was wide eyed & his cheeks were flushed. Once you got the belt off, you readjusted his pants & started to feed his belt back through the loops. König was trying to prevent the growing erection that was happening maybe an inch away from your face. You obliviously didn’t even notice. When you went go & buckle the belt you felt a strong hand reach down to stop you. You looked confused as he pulled you to your feet. He grabbed your hand & put it on his crotch. Eyes widening you bore into the eye holes of his sniper hood.

“Y- you have absolutely no idea what you do me schatz, do you?” He stammered.

“What makes you think I don’t know?” You replied with a smirk. “Why don’t I show you?” You said as you got back down on your knees. He started to pant & breath heavily as you undid his zipper. Both did the both of y’all show each other the importance to boost morale for your fellow service members.

#call of duty #cod imagines #cod masterlist #ghost call of duty #cod modern warfare #call of duty smut #cod mwii #cod imagine #könig modern warfare #könig smut #könig imagine #könig #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig x you #könig fanfiction #könig x reader

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brianwashere · 9 months

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hello!! saw your writing today in my tags and got interested, read some more and you seem really cool :D i got one fic stuck in my head though, the one you posted earlier today with the 7 foot spider reader! it was really cool but i kind of thought about a follow up (and I made sure to check your rules before this)

i was thinking, m/n is really big, intimidating and generally a badass- however. in bed (nsfw) he’s inexperienced, shy af, and ends up just being really submissive (you actually didn’t specify if you prefer dom or sub reader, i assumed you mind neither, but if u don’t feel comfortable with this then just ignore)

thank you, and keep up your great works so far :D

Anon, you’re officially my favorite fucking person ever. Oh my god. This req. warmed my heart. Idek what. It just did. Thank you for reading my other fics too. Wow. I’m reeling rn.

Also you didn’t specify who with so I just did HCs for Noir and Miguel

Pls req again soon! You’re so sweet

**I do not own any characters or part of the franchise from marvel or sony **

Summary: look at req

Tw: explicit activities ehehehehe, language

-Miguel-

The first time you two try anything he’s expecting you to be all dominant and get his ass blasted

Y’all two are making out and he’s ready to take it to the next level

And you’re nervous cause you know he’s expecting you to be this super experienced “knows how to make you scream immediately” kinda guy

The truth is you haven’t had much experience because while people may be into the whole “huge man” thing they’re too scared to actually come up to you and even have a conversation

And you’re also scared of hurting your partner

Just a mix of things that led you to little experience

It doesn’t take long for Miguel to figure it out

As soon as you glanced at his face nervously he knew something was up

At first Miguel is surprised bcc he would’ve expected men and women to practically be hanging from you

Once he recovers from the initial shock he’s down with topping and showing you the ropes

It’s a bit of a boost to his ego, not to mention a massive turn on for him

He never lets you shy away from him/cover your face. He loves seeing you. He knows he’s not stronger than you but he’ll still pull your hands away/pull you closer

But sometimes he does wanna be on bottom

Queue very erotic teaching sessions

When you do something he likes he’ll definitely over exaggerate so you’ll know

He also loves marking you up in more…intense ways because he knows it won’t really hurt you

Clawing your back. He’ll claw the SHIT out of your back.

Biting you too. Sometimes he just can’t help it

He finds out you have god tier stamina and impecable recovery time and will definitely use that to his advantage

*cough cough* Overstimulation and denial *cough cough*

He’s down to do whatever you’re comfortable with but sometimes he really needs some stress relief i.e. getting a blowjob or just fucking you senseless

He won’t admit it but he likes when he’s the little spoon after you two are done

~Noir~

You got nervous and told him the first make out session that you had practically no experience

He was a little taken aback, again, you’re so big and so hot how could people not be lining up for a piece of you

It makes him feel even more lucky to be with you though

“Oh…that’s ok, dear. We’ll take it slow, then.”

Then he finds out your submissive too and he’s pretty sure he has a heart attack

Now he was pretty vanilla at first but then he found the internet and stumbled upon some kinks and did some…research

Behind. He loves seeing your back muscles move and twist under him

He likes tying your wrists together with some of his webbing

It’s strong enough that it could actually hold you if you tried resisting, maybe not for very long, but it wouldn’t snap like thread at the slightest pressure

He loves praising you. Praise. All the time. Always praise. You could breathe and he’d be on his knees for you

Every time he does something new he asks if you’re ok with it

He’ll be gentle if that’s what you want but he figures out that’s usually not the case

Usually you want everything he’s got, as much as he’ll provide you

He does love soft romantic nights with you though

Where he gets to enjoy your large beautiful frame and your contrasting shyness

When he gets to slow down and drink in ALL of you

The noises you make, the small movements, your incoherent mumbling

He loves ALL of it

He’s so down bad for you not even a joke

A little guilty pleasure for him is kissing you senseless

He loves being the big spoon for you, even if it just feels like a backpack is attached to you

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monstersandmaw · 11 months

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The impact of reblogging...

Just in case you’re new, or don’t really understand how this entire site functions (and it’s completely different from other social media apps, at least for now*), or if you wanted an illustration of why it’s so important to reblog the posts you enjoy and the hard work of creators you want to support, here’s a visualisation of the impact and reach of reblogging, using my biggest post (part one of my writing masterlist).

Creators are losing the will to post and share in droves because engagement is becoming next to non-existent, and if you don’t reblog the things you enjoy for free, creators wonder why they even bother, and soon they’ll just... stop.

(Look at that reblog to like ratio too... oof)

My little blog is at the centre of that dense circle, and every point in the image represents a reblog.

Of the people who reblogged the original post, most of them did so directly from me, but you can see scattered groups of reblogs which came from people who reblogged it from those who did so from me. And so on and so on, out into the ecosystem.

If you came across my masterlist in the wild, and didn’t or don’t follow me, you only saw it because someone reblogged it.

Most of the things you see on your dash are only there because someone you follow reblogged it.

It’s how this whole ecosystem works, and you’re smothering and killing it if you don’t reblog the ‘content’ you ‘consume’ (I dislike using those terms, but it is what it is).

To clarify, no one is saying you should feel obliged to reblog everything you come across, or that everything an artist or creator puts out there ‘deserves’ to be reblogged, but for pity’s sake, reblog the things you do actively enjoy.

Leaving a like or a comment on the post is like giving a compliment directly to the creator, and it’s wonderful, but it doesn’t show that post to anyone else or boost its presence on the platform. It can also give the impression you didn’t like it ‘enough’ or it wasn’t ‘good enough’ to bother putting on your blog or reblogging. How you really show your appreciation for something you genuinely enjoyed is by reblogging. (Even better if you screech away in the tags about why you liked it, but that’s an optional extra!) It’s like giving a meaningful and impactful tip, except it’s completely free, and it only costs you the time it takes to click or tap.

I hope that clears things up, and is a useful illustration of the impact you’ve had on creators’ pages by reblogging their work, so a huge thank you to those who represent points on that chart, and those of other creators on here! It’s because of people like you that work of people like me gets seen and enjoyed by more people!!

*(I know Tumblr is trying to change things so that you see other things now, instead of only the people you follow, but you can and should turn that feature off).

#tumblr #how to use tumblr #how tumblr works #reblogging #support artists #support creators #non monster post

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unluckiestmember · 1 year

Note

Hey. Could do headcanons of Gwen Stacy x No Powers! Reader, please? Recently I remembered Gwen's story and especially the incident with her Peter Parker, so I felt curious to know what her relationship would be like with a Reader who admires Gwen's heroic figure, however, as well as her old Peter, they are powerless, without any notorious particularities and feel interested in becoming something more, someone special like Gwen. Y'know, an uncertainty of seemingly everything is repeating itself.

Coming right up!

Gwen Stacy X Powerless! Reader

Characters: Gwen Stacy/Spider-Woman

Tags: Can be read as platonic, can be read as romantic, oblivious!reader, supportive friend/girlfriend, confidence boosts, bullying and semi fluff.

Warning: None. SFW.

A/N: Yeeeeeaaaah, so I know you were probably looking for a dark outcome, but I feel we don't have enough fluff around these parks and I'm a sucker for that, so ya. Enjoy, I am so sorry!

For such a fan of Spider-Woman, Gwen was surprised you couldn’t connect the dots.

She loved how you were inspired by her heroic persona enough to try and make little changes around you.

Was especially proud when you even used that to stand up for others who couldn’t take care of themselves.

This did result in you getting bullied though.

But Gwen would always be there to pick you up and chew out your harassers.

She loves how you talk about Spider-Woman being an icon to live up to, trust me, she does!

But she wishes you saw how powerful you were.

All you could see was someone who was ordinary, maybe the lowest of the low.

But in her eyes? You were way more than that.

You were her best friend, just like Miles. Just like Peter…

She would voice it at random moments during lunch or when you are both hanging out at the arcade.

She would also remind you in your lowest moments, touching your cheek and proclaiming in a whisper how spectacular you are.

You would believe her. But it was so hard when you are so normal.

You weren’t like her, you couldn’t easily go up against rude people and take care of others successfully.

You weren’t like Spider-Woman, who made everything look so easy.

That’s why you went to work in the lab, creating serum after serum of liquids that could hopefully give you the powers you desired.

You wanted to be like Spider-Woman? This was the only way.

… Until it wasn’t.

One day, you were visited by Spider-Woman herself! In the flesh, speaking to you of all people!

She told you how amazing you are, even without powers. Even if you tried to argue against it, she would just shut you down with the best of claims;

“You stood up for a kid the other day at school, even if the bully was twice your size! You helped your best friend Gwen with her project! You were there for her when she was at her lowest and lifted her up!”

It was a bit odd that she knew everything you did for your best friend, but that didn’t cloud the adrenaline and serotonin you gained.

You two talked all night, forgetting about everything and for once in your life, you felt invincible.

After that night, you realized something; You were normal, but that was okay.

Being ordinary didn’t mean you were weak or helpless, especially when you still try your best for yourself and for others.

Powers don’t make the hero, you do.

You also realized something else; How the hell did it take you this long to realize your best friend was the Spider-Woman?!

Spider-Verse Requests are open!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day!

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kodydrs · 8 months

Text

The Vice-Admiral’s Daughter - Portgas D. Ace ( II )

➥ the first arguement

a/n: I might have this done by next week (i’m jinxing myself rn). writing this all feels so repetitive 😭. but hope everyone is having a wonderful day, so why not reblog / leave a reply, or send in a request / ask?

warnings: ace x fem!reader, pirate!ace x marine!daughter!admiral, fxm, 17y/o!reader, 19y/o!ace, argument, tension, non-con (but not really), pet names, single used of “y/n”, not proofread (it’s never proofread), i’m bad at tagging

summary: a series of you and ace’s “first times” - you haven’t seen ace for almost 2 years, but suddenly the pirate pops up in a bar.

ib: i lied an forgot to mention it in the first post, but the pirate x marine idea came from this post by @tinfairies

request: yes / no

The next time you met Ace was almost a year and a half later at a similar bar, but this one wasn’t in Loguetown. Instead, you were partaking in a Marine Training. Night had come and training had ended, so you had all decided to get drinks at the local bar (courtesy of the Vice-Admiral, of course). It was going to be a good night until you spotted a familiar orange cowboy hat.

‘Can you guys excuse me for a minute? I’ve gotta do something quickly.’ You told the other cadets. You got a response of “Oh come on, Y/n.” and “But we’re sitting down for the first time all day”, all of which you ignored. Not drawing attention to yourself from anyone in the bar, you walked up to the counter and took a seat beside the pirate.

Ace looked at you through the side of his eye, having to do a double take before realising who you were.

‘Hey. It’s the Vice-Admiral’s daughter!’ He shouted, resulting in a merciless jab to the ribs. He doubled over, wincing as he smiled up at you. ‘Long time, no-‘

‘You need to leave.’ You hissed as you ordered yourself a drink. He just chuckled.

‘We both know that isn’t going to happen, sweetheart.’ He says, taking a small sip of his drink.

‘Ace. There are other marines here. This whole town is swarmed with marines at the moment. You will get caught.’ You whisper-yell, chugging your own drink like it was a shot of water. Ace watched in amazement, a devilish smirk crossing his face as he leans in to whisper in your ear.

‘What happened to “I don’t drink”? Last time I saw you, I had to force you into having just one and now here you are, drinking like a sailor. What did I miss?’

‘I aged.’ You reply blatantly, like it’s the most obvious answer. ‘Last time I saw you, Ace, I was 16. It’s been almost 2 years.’

He laughs, ruffling your hair playfully and you can feel your cheeks heating up.

‘Well you certainly aged well.’ You were quick to brush his hand away, grabbing him by his hat's drawstrings and dragging him from the bar once again.

‘You’re an asshole. And an idiot.’ You curse loudly, turning heads as you cart him down the main street and into an empty alley. ‘What are you even doing here?’

‘I was bored.’

If he looked close enough, Ace might have seen the vein on your forehead pulsing and your patience snap.

‘I’m sorry. You’re in a highly marine populated area, on the busiest day of Marine training, because YOU’RE BORED?!’

He looks at you nonchalantly, shrugging.

‘That is what pirates do, sweetheart.. We get bored sometimes.’

You pinch the bridge of your nose and groan, enciting a smile from the older.

‘How is it that you always manage to be in the worst place at the worst time? It’s like that’s your devil fruit power instead of fire fist shit.’

His smirk widens and he leans back against the wall. ‘That’s because I'm not afraid to take risks.’ He winks mischievously, stepping forward towards you before stopping short when he notices your expression.

‘What's wrong, baby girl?’ He asks, tilting his head slightly.

‘I-uh.’ You’re struggling to find words, and you know that boosting Ace’s already large ego. ‘You’re a pervert.’

He bursts into laughter, making you flinch.

‘Oh ho! That’s quite rich coming from you, princess.’ There’s a glint of mischief in his eyes.

‘Rich coming from me?’ You fight, a surge of confidence flooding you. ‘You took advantage of a 16 year old girl while she was intoxicated.’

He steps closer, towering over you and you feel all the light around you disappear. It’s scary.

‘If I remember correctly, and let us both remember I was the sober one, you said something along the lines of “I want to kiss you so bad right now” and me, not being a “pervert” , told you to try saying it while you’re sober. so no, Y/n. I took advantage of no one.’

Your face flushes red, internal regret ringing in your ear as every alarm goes off. Your flight response, your “crawl into a ball and cry” response, and your fight response.

‘You’re lying.’

‘Oh yeah?’ His voice dropped down to that octave you remembered from your first drink. That animalistic tone as he slowly runs a finger down your covered stomach before hooking onto your belt. ‘Then why are you so nervous?’

You’re doing your best to not break eye contact with the man, but your breathing becomes deep and heavy as he leans in close enough for you to feel his breath on your neck as he whispers in your ear.

‘Tell me, babygirl. What exactly did I do wrong?’ He grips tighter onto your belt, pulling your forwards until your chests are pressed together closely. ‘Just answer me, please.’

You can’t form words, and all that comes out when you try to answer is a quiet whimper, like an animal caught in the hunters trap. Ace just laughs, placing a hand on your hip.

‘Now… that isn’t very convincing, princess.’ He pulls away and you gasp for air, your body finally registering that you were breathing. You can feel how hot your face is, and it only makes you more embarrassed which adds to the heat.

‘I-‘

‘You’re trying to tell me I forced you?’ Ace says, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him. ‘I did no such thing, ok? What I’m doing now? This is forcing. But on that night, I took you back to the tavern because I didn’t know where you lived and you were too drunk to give me directions. From there, the bartender should’ve taken you home. So please don’t accuse me of taking advantage of you. We had a deal, remember?’

You nod weakly, breathing normally as he releases your jaw and brings his hand to the side of your hand, caressing your cheek gently.

‘I… I’m sorry. For accusing you, and- everything else.’

He looks at you with that dark expression for another second before his signature bright smile lights up.

‘It’s alright. I don’t hold a grudge. Especially not with my friends. And you were so drunk. You wouldn’t have remembered anything from that night, anyways.’

You laugh quietly, wiping your eyes of the few tears that had threatened to spill.

‘…yeah. But I wasn’t drunk.’

‘Oh my god.’ He shouts, laughing at the fact you’re still defending your case after a year and a half. Regardless of the actions prior, he pays your head and ruffles your hair. ‘Get back to your drinks. I’ll get out of here while you distract them, ok?’

You both laugh, but nonetheless split ways. You go back to the other cadets, forgetting you’d even seen Ace by the 5th drink.

taglist: reply to be added

all rights and reserves are copyright to kodydrs on tumblr. this material is not to be copied or translated.

⇦ part I

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seravphs · 6 months

Text

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — WOLFWOOD x FEM READER

You thought you'd be the one taking care of the stray you picked up off the streets, not the other way around.

wc — 3.6k

tags — fluff, dog boy/werewolf/shapeshifter au I guess, whatever you want to call it, “you become responsible forever for what you have tamed” but it goes both ways, animal abuse mention (non graphic and not from reader), shoujo manga vibes, title from runaway by Aurora

There’s a mangy old stray on your block. You’ve seen the kids chase him off with sticks too many times not to want to do something about it, no matter how your mother used to scold you for your bleeding heart.

“It’ll get you hurt someday,” echoes now in your ears as the cashier rings up your dog food, both wet and dry. You’re not sure which he’d - it seems like a he - would prefer.

$12.97 is your total. Not a bad price to pay for a life.

Only a gentle kind of revolt, more teasing than genuinely angry, remains in your mind as the first drops of rain land on your face. It was a light mist, barely enough to dampen the sweet smelling air. The wet haze pulled blurry rainbows across the clear summer sky, enough to put a hop in your step as you hurried back to your apartment.

There are no children today, and the neighborhood is quiet. A half dug hole by the adjacent apartment’s peonies tells you that your target is either nearby or at least recently in town. You unpack your bag, setting out a trap in the form of a can of wet food.

Something skulks in the periphery of your vision. Trying not to startle him, you peek at the shadow out of the corner of your eye. You didn’t know dogs grew to be this big.

When you really look at him, your stray seems more wolf than dog. He’d be nearly as large as as a human if he stood up on his back paws. Hiding beneath the trees where he thinks you can’t see him, he’s tense and untrusting.

It’s strange for you to think of yourself as capable of making anyone nervous, much less someone as big as he is. You take a step back.

He edges forward, then flees into the shadows again. He’s hesitant. His paws skitter across the grass, beating a fast and unsteady tempo that reveals how nervous he is. It’s obvious that he won’t come out to eat as long as you’re here. That’s fine.

Trust can be earned.

From your apartment’s windows, you watch him gulp down the food. He’s so clearly famished that he doesn’t even pause to breathe between bites, leaving you almost afraid that he’ll choke. When he’s finished, he lies down by his bowl, his eyes glittering.

He’s not asleep - he’s too wary a creature for that, but it’s relieving to see him relaxed and sated. He dozes like that for a minute or two before he lifts himself back up on weary paws to trot back into the woods.

You’ve tried to make it a routine to feed him after work, stopping by the pet store to pick up different flavors you think he’d like to try. Neon stickers pop out at you from various tags on the shelves, promising to boost muscle growth or improve bone strength.

In the end, you get them all. When all you do is work, you don’t worry about blowing your money on things like this. You have nothing else to spend it on - might as well spoil him. It’s nice to be able to take care of someone else.

It might be all in your head, but you think he’s starting to warm up to you. He still waits until you’re gone to eat, but it’s easier to keep tabs on him now. You don’t think it’s an accident.

Sneaking a glance out of the corner of your eye, you can spot the telltale signs that he was waiting. Sometimes you even find him waiting for your car to pull in.

Today, you find him at the end of your driveway, his tail thumping against the pavement. He’s in a good mood, it seems. When you park, he even gives a short howl.

He still retreats when you climb out of the driver’s side, only inching forward when you rustle your plastic bag of groceries at him. You crack the lid and set it down slightly in front of you to wait it out.

You’ve been trying to get him used to your presence so you can take him to the vet. It’s a slow process - some days he’s more amenable to your presence than others.

It takes a minute or two for him to consider if it’s worth it, if you’ll hurt him. Eventually, he slinks forward, his body low to the ground.

You smile at him encouragingly as you wait, crouched down to be on the same level as him. He’s a big dog, probably almost the same height as you sitting down. He pauses in front of the food and sniffs cautiously. Then, he passes it.

Your heart drops. Maybe he didn’t like it. Had you picked wrong? He’s eaten everything you gave him before - you didn’t think he was picky.

He comes right up to you, his hot breath gusting over your hand. Suddenly you realize that this is a predator. He might be feral or have rabies. After everything, you realize you don’t really know him.

Animals aren’t like humans. You’ve assigned a wild beast your own moral complications and assumptions. Perhaps it’s hungry enough to want to eat you.

He’s close enough that you can feel the warm weight of his body against your shins. Something fuzzy bumps into your hand insistently until you lift it. You realize that he’s asking to be pet and with trembling fingers, you do.

Your fingers stroke over his head and ears, growing surer with the way he’s pushing back against you. It tickles just a little, enough to make you giggle until he shoves his snout right into your palm. His nose is cold and wet.

“Go on,” you encourage, trying to nudge him towards the bowl. No matter how nice his fur feels, there’s something heartbreaking about watching him choose love over food.

“You need to eat,” you scold. He sneezes in a way that makes him shake all over. If he wasn’t a dog, you’d think he was smiling at you. He only takes a mouthful when you reach out to resume petting him. He seems to like it when you scratch right behind his ears.

You almost feel like you’ve formed a bond until he stops right at the boundary of your home and refuses to walk any further. You had thought you were getting along so well, too.

“Come on,” you coax. “Here, boy. There’s nothing to be scared of.”

He skitters back anyways, circling your property with a low, mournful howl before he trots back towards the perimeter.

Progress is progress, you try to remind yourself, however disappointed you are.

Sometimes, it feels like you’re not making any at all. There are days where you can’t even watch him eat, not knowing if he’s alright until the next time you find an empty bowl. Your fears are only alleviated by the moments where he lets you pet him or waits for you, a reminder that you are earning his trust.

It may be a slow process, but he is becoming more comfortable with you, little by little.

Now it worries you when you can’t find him sitting in his usual spot, wary but excited. He doesn’t come even when you peel back the lid of the can noisily, the metal crumpling easily in your hand. You can’t help your anxieties from multiplying, though logically you know that he’s probably just off doing whatever dogs do in their free time.

You’re already halfway up the walkway to your house when you turn back. You can’t go inside without knowing he’s safe. A quick lap around the neighborhood reveals nothing. You’re checking behind bushes and cars when you hear the first faint whimper.

Frantically, you push the leaves aside until you find him huddling in the center of a rose bush. He’s curled up on himself, as small as he could possibly be. His tail is tucked under his nose.

Your hands are pricked with thousands of little needles as you keep digging for him. You can’t imagine how much worse it would be for him. This could only have been his last resort. Something worse had chased him here.

He wags his tail when he sees you, barely able to lift his head. Seeing him struggle, you can’t help yourself. You push the branches aside to help him drag himself out, his body battered. Those kids again.

“Come on, baby,” you coo, stroking his matted fur as you pick him up in your arms. He’s not as heavy as he should be, starved as he is. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll take care of you.”

It was settled before you could decide it for yourself. He’s your responsibility now. There was never a choice in it.

Dr. Rem’s assistant comes out to fetch you less than five minutes into the check up. “I think you should stay,” he says, his tone just cool enough to sound a touch annoyed.

Your overgrown puppy won’t submit to her ministrations unless you’re in the room with him, stroking his ears and promising that everything will be alright. He must’ve been a pet at some point, to know what needles are and have such a reaction to them. To know that despite the initial pinch, it’s okay as long as you’re being pet.

When it’s finally over, both of you are exhausted, but Dr. Rem is as professional as ever as she walks you through the care routine for his treatments. “Honestly,” she says, shaking her head. “I don’t understand how some people can be so cruel.”

You don’t either, but it doesn’t matter. He’s yours now, and you’ll never let anything touch him again.

“Does he have a name?” Dr. Rem’s incredibly blonde assistant asks as he’s filling out your release forms.

“I’ve just been calling him dog,” you admit bashfully.

He doesn’t need to speak. His expression says it all. Unbelievable.

You take a look at the creature you’ve decided to bring home. He does look more like a wolf than a dog. You’ve always thought so. “Wolfwood?”

“What a weird - ahem, interesting - name for a dog,” Nai, from his name tag, says.

By your feet, Wolfwood wags his tail in agreement.

“Wolfie?”

His tail wags harder. He pauses. It wags again. He turns around and nips at it, like he’s trying to hide the fact that he might like the nickname.

When you try to carry him from the car into your home, he clambers stiffly to his feet like an old man. You have to hide your laugh behind a couch. For some reason, he seems more human than animal. You’ve caught him noticing things no normal dog would, and you’re sure his pride would be injured.

The sound his nails clicking across the floor is strangely comforting, like ASMR. You’ve heard that dogs are naturally helpful to lower cortisol and reduce stress, but you’ve never thought you’d experience those effects. You lean down to stroke a hand over his furry coat, carefully avoiding the spots where he’s still hurt.

When it’s bedtime, you’ve resolved to give him the comfort of your bed and take the couch, but he’s not having any of that. His jaw snaps around the hem of your shirt, teeth digging into the fabric to prevent you from leaving. Immediately, you stop moving, afraid to hurt him worse.

“Calm down,” you say gently. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He barks in discontent. He really does seem human, as if he understood you.

Out of options, you resign yourself to curling up on the bed next to him, hoping you won’t accidentally roll over him in your sleep. Maybe you should invest in one of those bed dividers they use for small children. It’s the last thought in your head before you drift off.

A deep, reverberating sound wakes you up. You roll over with the pillow shoved on top of your head to try to get some peace, but it continues. Fed up, you finally rise out of your comfortable sheets, ready to give whichever neighbor that’s decided sunrise was a great time to mow their lawn a piece of your mind.

Instead, you’re greeted with a strange man in your bed. Your scream is cut short by his hand clapping over your mouth as soon as you start.

“Oops.” He says. “My bad.”

Your eyes grow wider in terror.

“Hey, hey,” he says soothingly, like that’s going to help when there’s a random man in your bed. “None of that. I’m a friend.”

You scream louder. In a spark of inspiration, you try to bite him. He winces. That’s when you start noticing the ears and the tail. The faint resemblances to someone else you know. The bandages wrapped around his torso.

“That’s right,” he says, noticing you look. “Recognize me now? Would this help?”

The tail flicks back and forth in a familiar motion. Someone else used to do that to show his happiness.

“Wolfie?”

“That’s a stupid name,” he laughs.

“I think I’m going to pass out.”

“Don’t do that,” he says, but it’s too late. You’re going back to bed.

You’re not sure why you’re not more surprised that the stray you picked up is actually a human, but after your initial reaction, you find yourself remarkably open to the idea. Part of you feels privately that you’ve always expected Wolfie to be special. He seemed so smart.

You’re in too deep to kick him out now, human or not, but that also might be an excuse. Having him around is nice, you have to admit. Whether he’s a human or a dog, having someone to come home to has changed your life.

You hadn’t realized how lonely you were until you came home to Wolfwood preparing dinner, the apron you bought for him wrapped around his waist. It reads ‘kiss the chef’ in bright pink letters.

Although you’re the one who took him in, you feel like you’re the one being taken care of.

It’s not just you. Even your coworkers have commented on the way you rush home now instead of staying up until the very last minute. You can’t keep up with your bad habits anymore. There’s someone waiting for you now.

When you open the door, the delicious fragrance of something savory drifts to your nose, spiced and warm. “I’m home,” you call.

There’s no need. He’s already waiting at the door. It’s a comical sight. He tries to make it casual, leaning against the wall with an oh-so-nonchalant air, but he’s there every single time you walk through the entrance without fail.

It’s too easy to get used to his presence.

Having someone to come home to makes you quicker to turn down overtime requests and more hesitant to take on additional duties. You thought this would hurt your work report, and you were willing to take the hit. Some things are worth it.

Instead, your productivity spikes. Even your manager notices, doling out rare and surprised praise on one of your last projects. The change in you is palpable.

“Did you get a boyfriend?” Meryl asks. “You seem happier lately.”

Everyone notices the way you seem brighter, more easygoing. You’ve started bringing homemade lunch boxes instead of eating out. Your good mood has translated into a better work product than any amount of indifferent hours you put in before.

It’s still a surprise when you receive your promotion at the end of the quarter. Something you’ve been working towards for months drops right in your lap. Lately, it feels like everything has been falling into place.

Good things arrive on the heels of even better things, all because you’ve felt more personally fulfilled than you have in years. You though taking Wolfwood in would slow you down, but it’s done the opposite.

You have more time now that you have someone looking after you. It also motivates you to have someone of your own to care for.

When you present the news to him, you can’t stop yourself from crying out of happiness, though it’s embarrassing. Wolfwood licks at the small tears rolling down your cheeks.

“What are you doing?” You laugh, trying to push his face away with no real effort behind it.

“Kisses,” he replies. “For doing a good job.”

Not like that, you try to remind yourself. He doesn’t mean it like that.

“Why is your heart beating faster?”

Stupid dog senses.

There are other ways in which his dog nature comes in handy. He’s more sensitive to nature than you are. You’ve come to rely on him instead of the forecast as he sends you off every morning, his nose scenting the ozone and petrichor in the air.

“Don’t forget to take an umbrella!”

“I’m already running late, bye!”

You should’ve listened. Now you’re forced to trudge through the damp muck, soaked to the bone. Your sneeze is so strong it rattles through your bones, making you feel achey and weak as you sniffle through the last leg of your journey. By the time you finally reach the front door, you feel as pathetic as you must look, like a half drowned rat.

Wolfwood is waiting for you again, but you barely register it. You nearly stumble over a cabinet leg as you try to make your way to the couch through the dizziness, collapsing on it. Wolfwood pads over to you, making a low grumbling noise of concern.

“Shh,” you murmur as you feel his cold nose shove into your palm. “Not right now, Wolfie. I’m tired.”

He puts his head across your thigh and whines discontentedly. Your breathing is coming a little hard. Still, you try to reassure him. “I’m okay. Just had a long day.”

There’s human hands against your forehead now, nice and cool. You turn your head so you can nuzzle into it, the gentle pressure relieving your headache just a little.

Someone’s holding you now, arms around your back and sides. “Come on, sweetheart, you gotta sit up. Eat something.”

Almost like a dog yourself, you whine and pout, turning your face away. The idea of food is turning your stomach right now. Everything seems too rich for your weak stomach.

“This is why I told you to take that umbrella this morning.” Wolfwood’s voice is stern, but his hands are kind as he props you up.

“One sip, alright? For me.”

Weakly, you part your lips so he can slide the spoon between your teeth. It’s a mild broth, barely any flavor to it, but it’s the only thing you can bear at the moment. The hot soup feels incredible, warming you from the inside out.

“There we go,” he says. “Good job, sweetheart.”

With his help, you finish the whole bowl. He wraps the blanket tighter around you before he takes the dirty dishes. Even when he leaves your side, you can hear him bustling around the room, so you’re not worried. This is nice. Even feverish, you feel pleasant.

When Wolfwood returns to the couch, his dog ears are peeking out of his hair. He kneels by you to check your temperature. Spotting your chance, you scratch at the base of his ears, listening for the satisfying thump of his tail hitting his thigh when you get the spot he really likes.

“What a good boy,” you coo, forgetting yourself.

He laughs at you, watching you fluster. “Did you forget I’m not a real dog?”

Your face is hot, but not from the fever.

A few months into the strange miracle of having someone else to care for, and someone to care for you, Wolfwood asks you for an unusual favor.

“Can you get me a collar?”

Your gaze sweeps over him, considering. “I don’t know how I’d feel about that now that I know you’re a man.”

“Honest, aren’t you?” When he smiles, you can see his fangs. It’s strangely charming, the wink of white bone in the corner of his mouth.

“Why do you even want one?”

“I dunno, instinct? It just feels nice.” He braces his hand against his throat, testing the way it’d feel. “Yeah. It feels like something’s missing.”

“That’s strange. I thought you’d prefer to be free.”

He stretches out, lifting his arms. You can see the muscle lining his back beneath his thin, nearly transparent white tee. “Freedom is relative. Everyone is tied to something, you know. No use in pretending otherwise.”

You tap his nose playfully. With a mischievous look in his eyes, he lunges forward and snaps his teeth over your finger.

“You can be wise for a puppy,” you say teasingly.

“Like I keep telling you, I’m a man,” he says, roughly pulling you towards him so he can punish you by messing with your hair. You shriek in protest, trying to push him off, but the request sticks inside your head.

On the weekend, you take a few leashes from the right section and sneak into a quieter corridor in the pet store. Even though you’ve agreed to this for Wolfwood’s sake, it’s still embarrassing. You have your pride, and it’d be hard to explain to anyone what your actual situation is.

Perhaps understanding your plight, Wolfwood doesn’t mess with you as he usually does. Or maybe he’s just pliant at the thought of getting what he wants as you clip the leather around his neck.

It looks good on him, you have to admit. He looks almost like a punk rock star, transforming it from dog collar to statement necklace.

You flick the tag on his neck, watching the silver circle twinkle with your name and number. It’s meant for him to wear when he chooses to go on walks himself as a dog. “Now it’ll be okay even if you do get lost,” you tell him, satisfied.

“I’d be fine either way,” he says. “I know the way home.”

For some reason, that makes you feel as owned as he looks, even though you’re not the one with a collar around your neck.

#wolfwood x reader #trigun x reader #Nicholas Wolfwood X reader #sera writes

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lizard-on-a-window-pane · 25 days

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Hey, I've been thinking about James with the reader who's super tall, and she's super insecure about it. Then one day one of James' friends mentions the reader's height, and then she feels bad

(sorry for any mistakes, English is not my first language)

hii, sorry i took a while with this one; thanks so much for requesting! and no worries at all! your english is great, but it also wouldn't matter if it wasn't 🤪 even though it feels like it by now, it's not my first language either lol but isn't it just a lovely tool for us all to fantasize together 🫶 hope you like it! wasn't sure if you wanted the comfort after the angst, so i just wrote it in

pairing: James Potter x reader word count: 2.1k tags: angst, fluff, established relationship, insecure fem reader, not proofread sorry

You’re going out with James and the gang, and you’re excited for a fun night out. Until the dreaded dilemma you face every time you dress up: heels or no heels? You know from past experience that all your girlfriends will be wearing them. They range from Lily’s kitten heels to Marlene’s stilettos, but it’s always a little something for the special occasions.

The problem is: you’re tall. Very tall. Taller than all your friends with their heels on. When you wear them too, you look like a giant. You’re also taller than your boyfriend, James, but it doesn’t usually look that off… if you’re not wearing heels. When you do, you tower over him.

But you like the shoes, for some occasions. You’d like to just be able to wear them without its being a big deal. You’ve tried so many times to convince yourself that it isn’t, that you should just do whatever you want and care less what people think about you, but as soon as you’re out, they stare, and you feel awful.

You have a pair you think are really pretty but have literally never worn because of the significant height boost they give. You put them on, take them off, again and again, indecisive. After about the tenth time donning them, you look in the mirror and decide to go for it. What’s the worst that could happen? Short girls probably feels self-conscious about their height too, right? Everyone has something, you encourage yourself as you step out your door.

You’re all starting the night at a nearby pub where you all meet up. When James sees you, he lights up, giving you the warmest hug. His face nuzzles easily into the crook of your neck from the height difference then he kisses you adoringly. “Hello, gorgeous,” he grins. “You look especially beautiful tonight.” He’s always so cheesy. You always love it.

“Thanks, Jamie,” you blush back. “You too.”

“Well, I have to look nice to stand next to my girl, don’t I?” He stands tall next to you, posing, though he’s quite shorter than you. You roll your eyes smilingly at his antics and intertwine your arms. He squeezes your arm in his and leans up for a peck.

You’re all soon standing around a tall table as you catch up, having your first drinks and discussing where the night should take you. Mary brings up another nearby pub, cosier than this one, and Remus seconds the idea. Marlene boos dramatically and argues you can do that any other night. She suggests a rather rowdy club, and Sirius drumrolls the table in excitement.

“I like that idea,” he surprises no one in saying.

“I don’t know,” Mary pushes back. “Last time we were there, we got separated, and it was so crowded, it took ages for us to even find each other again.” “Easy fix tonight,” Sirius begins, grinning mischievously. “If we get separated, we all meet back up at Y/N. She’s like a homing beacon with those heels on! We’ll be able to see her over the crowds.” Your stomach plummets. Some of your friends are laughing, others not so much, but you, you are mortified. You feel clammy and frozen, like there’s suddenly a wide distance between you and everyone else. You want to just disappear, go home and not have to hang out with anyone ever.

Only Lily seems to notice your discomfort, impressive given you’re giving your very best efforts to hide it even though you feel absolute shit.

“He’s an idiot,” she whispers in your ear. “Don’t listen to him. You look great.” You turn to respond but are surprised to find trying to speak raises a knot in your throat. You can’t imagine how much more embarrassing it would be if you started crying at a stupid joke, so you just given her a strained smile and look down, trying to compose yourself.

Everyone else has been caught up in the conversation moving on, so it’s a little while before James turns to you, noticing your quiet, your downward gaze. “Y’alright, love?” he whispers, a hand coming to the small of your back.

“Fine.” You repeat the strained smile, hoping it’s getting more convincing with practice.

“Sure? You seem upset.” “‘M fine.” You don’t sound fine. “Thanks,” you add, trying to lighten the tone.

“Alright,” he says, though he doesn’t sound convinced. “So what do you feel like doing?” “I don’t know… Maybe something where we’re sitting?”

“Sitting?” he laughs, thinking you must be joking. When you cringe, he realizes you aren’t. “Oh, uh, why?” Then, looking like a cartoon lightbulb has just gone off above his head, he asks, “Are your shoes hurting your feet or something? I don’t understand how you lot wear those things.”

“No, I —“ you begin, but quickly realize that could be a good, believable, non-embarrassing — well, at least less embarrassing — excuse. “Um, yeah, a bit.”

“Oh, well we can find places to take breaks whenever you want. Don’t worry, I’ll go with you to sit as often as you like,” he smiles.

You just smile back, though it doesn’t reach your eyes. When he’s not looking, you crouch down a bit awkwardly to be the same height as your friends around you. You try to keep this up, but after a while, it’s hurting your back, so you fall in and out of the pose for as long as you can stand it.

The night goes on, a destination eventually decided upon, a compromise in the end. Most of your friends seem to be having a good time, but you have been quiet all night. You haven’t been able to shake the feelings of discomfort and self-consciousness that joke sparked in you. You just feel sad. Not to mention your back is killing you from constantly trying to look shorter.

“James, I think I want to go home,” you say into his ear. He turns to you, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“What? So early? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m just not feeling so well.”

“D’you feel sick? Have you had too much?” he asks, lifting his drink. You shake your head. “Your feet hurt?” he guesses again.

“A little. Look, it’s fine; it’s not a big thing, I’m just tired, okay?” You’re tense and pained and just want to get out of here. You feel the tears welling back up, and you’re keen to leave before the waterworks. You give James a quick kiss, adding “Don’t worry! Have fun! I’ll talk to you tomorrow!” in an off, fake enthusiasm then bolt to the door.

As you leave, you’re walking so quickly that you bump into some random bloke.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” he chortles then starts full out laughing with his mate next to him. You push past him.

You have no idea what he was laughing at. Maybe they had been laughing before you bumped into him. Maybe they were just completely pissed and needed no reason. But your already self-conscious brain immediately feels like they were laughing at you, at how much taller than them you were.

You can’t help it now and start softly crying as you walk a bit further down then lean against the wall. The ease on your back feels nice, but you wish you could just teleport home. You hide your face in your hands, not wanting people to see you crying.

So you don’t notice James approach you until you hear his worried, low voice.

“Hey, sweetheart, what’s going on?” He grabs your wrists ever so gently and, holding your hands to his chest with one hand, brings the other to wipe your tears. “Darling, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

You see how scared he is and know ugly scenarios are running through his mind. You want to reassure him quickly but you can’t get yourself together. The guilt of the real reason you’re so upset being stupid in comparison makes you feel even worse, and you sob as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and hug him tightly.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, love, it’s alright,” he coos, holding you close and petting your hair. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?” You step back a bit, wiping your face aggressively and shaking your head at yourself.

“It’s stupid, Jamie, really I’m fine,” you muffle.

“I just want to help you be okay. Whatever it is, you can tell me.” You look into his beautiful eyes, the worry in them shining through. You love him. You hate worrying him. And talking to him about anything always makes you feel better.

“I’m just too tall,” you confess. “What?” he seems genuinely lost.

“I’m too tall,” you repeat, more softly this time, looking at the floor in shame.

“Too tall? Baby, what’s brought this on?”

“It’s stupid, I know. I just, I can’t stop thinking about it since Sirius made that joke.”

“What joke?” “‘If we get separated, just look for the giant,’” you misquote sarcastically.

“Oh, darling. All night you’ve been upset? I’m so sorry I didn’t do something. I thought you were just a bit tired or something.” “I’m so embarrassed,” you whisper.

“You shouldn’t be,” James says, with more bite in his voice. “Really, you shouldn’t. Not at your height, not at your feelings. Fuck, baby, I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner.” He pulls you into a warm hug as you shake your head. He just holds you a long time, till your breathing is even and slow again, then pulls back, keeping his arms around you.

“Hey,” James whispers. “Hey,” you whisper back.

“I hate seeing you sad,” he says through a comforting smile. It manages to make you smile subtly back at him. “My gorgeous girl.” He kisses your cheek, still moist with tears. “Baby, you’re so beautiful. You don’t have to look like everyone else.” “Thanks.”

“I mean it, Y/N. I think you’re ridiculously gorgeous. Tall, sure, but you’re just too perfect to be anything else. You’re majestic.” You scoff but laugh a bit at him.

“Majestic? I’m a mess most of the time.”

“You can be a mess and still look majestic. You do it all the time,” he says playfully. “You, my love, are like a queen.” You roll your eyes, but your face has softened. “You’re my queen,” he says more sweetly and kisses you.

“Thank you, Jamie. I’m sorry I was being stupid,” you voice your dark thought. “Sweetheart,” he chides lovingly. “That’s nothing to be sorry for. I just wish you’d told me earlier. You’re not even a little bit stupid. Only for suffering alone,” he jokes. “We all have things. I get self-conscious about not being tall enough for you to like me,” he confesses, looking nervous.

“I don’t like you, I love you.” He smiles at this.

“And I’ll never get used to my queen loving me back.” His tone is teasing again, still vulnerable but very him.

You both take a deep breath and, eyes meeting, just chuckle together for a moment. You shake off the intense emotions, the charged conversation. You sigh and hug him again, his body eager to receive you.

“What do you want to do, love?” His hand is caressing your back as he looks into your eyes. “We’ll do whatever you feel like.” You have to take a long time to consider it. You’d been so desperate to go home just moments ago, but now you’re unsure. You feel so much lighter and take your time thinking about what would make you happy, everyone else be damned.

“I want to dance. With you. And not crouch anymore,” you laugh. “My back is fucking killing me.”

“Crouching? Y/N, if I catch you crouching, I’m going to be very upset,” he teases. “You wanna dance? Let’s go dance, baby.” You nod, smiling.

“Just help me sneak to the toilets first. I’m sure I look a mess.” “You’re beautiful, but sounds good. Then we dance.” He kisses you. “And then, once you’ve danced all you want to dance, we’ll take you home, and I’ll give you the best massage you’ve ever gotten. Your feet and back are going to be grateful they’re sore.” You scoff lovingly and put your arm in his.

As you head back inside, you stand tall next to James, feeling like you’re floating, happy for now to be majestic mess.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter imagine #james potter oneshot #james potter fluff #marauders #marauder x reader #sirius black #sorry siri i love you #lily evans #marauders fanfic #angst #fluff #established relationship

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hey-august · 2 months

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Working on the big top for years, working with buggy for so long you trust each other more than anyone, being each other’s confidant and best friend but NEVER crossing the line to anything else because! That’s still your boss! And your friend!

You could neverrrrrr imagine anything happening between the two of you especially not late at night, cleaning up after a show after the crew has gone to bed, sitting down to take a break and putting ur head in his lap, looking up at the stars and catching buggy staring at you? Oh my god that’s crazy nooooo you absolutely would neverrrrrr reach up and pull him down to kiss you omg

Ugh. ugh. ugh. ugh. I LOVE this anon. I love this and things got out of hand. It deviates sliiiightly from what you wrote because I kept forgetting about the stars. I hope it's still enjoyable!!

WC: 908 Warnings: SFW, buggy x GN!reader, lil bit of longing, mention of drinking, barely proofread

It’s purely platonic. A friendly connection. Captain and crewmate. Drinking buddies. Shoulders to cry on. Secret keepers. Partners in crime. Friends, and nothing more.

Becoming close happened so naturally that no one questioned it. Life carried on, as it does, and eventually you and Buggy were joined at the hip. While you worked on the crew and he was the captain, the dynamic didn’t carry into the friendship.

No one worried that you were an informant for their boss. You knew when to keep your mouth shut, when to pass along “rumors,” and you still joined in on the shit talk. It was all part of the bonding and you were thankful that your connection to the captain didn’t ruin it. If anything, it boosted morale. Your closeness with the captain made them feel closer to him as well. If you could survive slapping him on the back with laughter, so could they.

The other tokens of friendly affection, however, they left to you. Grabbing Buggy by the arm and dragging him to see something. Teasing him whenever he got irrationally ticked off. Shoving him playfully after a prank. Pushing the hair from his face when his hands are busy. Offering calming words and a quiet walk when his emotions were too extreme.

Buggy reciprocated in kind. Only letting you polish off his personal flask. Fixing your clothes when you misaligned the buttons or left a tag out. Swapping plates and drinks mid-meal. Calling you out on your shit when you were being rude or pissy. Offering you his room as a quiet place to calm down when you needed a minute.

You two were buds. Peas in a pod. Birds of a feather. And nothing more. That’s just how it was. How it was supposed to stay. It was luck that the friendship worked out well and didn’t jeopardize the crew. You couldn’t risk throwing that off-balance.

No matter how much your heart ached when you shared drinks that touched both of your lips. No matter how much you liked when he squeezed you with one arm while laughing raucously at a shitty joke you told. No matter how long you wanted to stay in his room, hoping that he would come in to join you. No matter how many times you held his hand in the dark, while you both walked the deck among the stars.

You were friends.

You used to be friends until that one night. Another successful raid, another successful show, another successful party. The crew worked hard and they were exhausted. Knowing you could convince the captain to finish cleaning in the morning if you two were alone, you helped the rest of the crew sneak away slowly.

“Looks like it’s just us again, Bugs.” The captain hadn’t noticed the dwindling numbers and needed you to point it out.

“What? What?! Where did those freaks go?” Buggy spun around, as if he expected you to be lying. Maybe his crew was hiding among the seats, waiting to pop out.

“It’s been a long day, captain. We’ve done a lot…why don’t we sit down for a moment.”

That was the first step. Get Buggy to relax. Once his guard was down, it would be easier to convince him to call it a night.

Instead of listening, the pirate continued to grumble. Slipped in between complaints about abandonment were short praises and compliments about how well his crew performed and what a great captain they had to bring them such glory. Rather than interrupting his monologue, you sat on the wood ground to listen and wait for him to follow your lead.

Buggy’s mouth ran on as he joined you on the floor cross-legged and patted his lap. You reclined and rested your head on his leg, settling in to be a good friend.

It was no secret that Buggy talked a lot. You were a good listener. You had to be, as his best friend. Sometimes he just wanted to talk. He didn’t need to be heard, but you always paid attention. The pirate’s voice was soothing. Whether it was shrill when he was shrieking, grating because he was shouting, low because he was angry, or bubbly with excitement, you wanted to drift away in the sound. Closing your eyes, you let yourself fall deeper.

As he carried through topic after topic, his voice grew softer. Calmer. You could easily imagine Buggy’s expressive yet content face. While it was imprinted in memory, the real vision was one that always took your breath away. Opening your eyes to get your fill, you were faced with the gentle expression aimed towards you.

With air stuck in your chest, your mouth was empty. Lonely.

Reaching up, you put a hand on the back of Buggy’s head and pulled your friend closer. And closer. And closer. Until your lips touched. Until you could breathe again, filling yourself with him. His mouth was soft. Warm. Inviting. Your tongue accepted the invitation and joined his for a dance that started cautiously before turning into something fervent and confident.

You held him close until your breath stopped again, stilled by emotions that grew too big and too fast to keep contained. Loosening your hold on his head, Buggy took the cue. He pulled away, also out of breath.

You two stared at each other in silence.

“It was about time,” he finally said before leaning in to kiss you again.

#buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy the clown #buggy x you #x reader #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy

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pxgeturner · 2 months

Text

Miguel O'Hara is a world-renowned professional boxer, and Hobie's other best friend. One night he finally makes the two worlds collide and sparks immediately fly between the two of you. But will he distract you from meeting your publisher's deadline? And will you distract him from getting World Champ?

before you follow. m.list. Iron Fist gfx library. series m.list. tag list.

Prologue. I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. Epilogue.

wc. 1.5k

an. hi. its me! Giselle, or gi, or gigi to few (not to be confused w gg, that is one of my moots. she makes really cool art.) n e ways here is the awaited Prologue for Iron Fist. Oh goodness I'm so nervous. I just want to make a few things clear. the reader is an author (obvs). She's recently graduated uni and is Latina! I write with a woc!r in mind always. I try to be as inclusive as possible, pero porque soy Mexicana, r might lean towards being more Mexican but I'll try to keep her Spanish standard and not be too specific to my family's culture. much love! hope you enjoy <3

please don't forget to reblog! likes do nothing to boost engagement.

Your foot taps against the floor. The damn blank document stares back at you. Mocking you is what it’s really doing. Fuck you, you think, I achieved my goal. I published a book and it is a damn bestseller! Only problem is that the readers want more. It’s been… some time since your first book. And sure, Jess said you can take a break before starting a new project. But you also know that it’s good to ride on existing publicity. At least be able to make an announcement that you’re writing something while all this excitement lasts. Maybe you should write something about vampires. You love vampires and how they fit into romance and how them drinking blood is a euphemism just a bit away from, the whole cannibalism-equals-all-consuming-love trope and how when a vampire attacks it’s often an allegory for rape and— but you have nothing to add to the conversation. You have nothing new to say, no new perspective or hot take, or twist. You have nothing. No ideas.

Not a single word on the page.

You have an idea, leaning forward to peck the keyboard. “F-u-c-k. T-h-i-s!” You highlight the text and italicize it.

Fuck this. At least it’s words on the page.

You reach for your cup and take a sip. “If all else fails I can ride on the rest of the signing bonus and royalties for a bit since the book is doing good, and once that dries up, I can apply to be circulation assistant at a library or something.” You sigh and take another sip. “But nobody has to know for now.” You get up, searching for your phone. You find it resting on the arm of the couch, you grab it, sliding onto the cushions, resting your head where your phone just was. “God, don’t make me a one hit wonder, I wanna be a star. I wanna be the one to push that bitch Colleen Hoover into obsoletion. Please God. Please.”

You open your phone and look for your mother on speed dial.

“Hola, nena!” Your mama’s voice is happy, she must be having a good day. You move into the kitchen. You need a snack.

“Hey, mama, how are you?” You hold the cell with your shoulder as you look through your pantry.

“Good, good,” you find a pack of roasted seaweed snacks and grab it.

“I went on a date anoche.” Your shoulder drops and the pack of seaweed slips out of your grasp.

Mi mami fue a una cita. Con un man! You stand there, trying to process that she is actually back on the dating scene.

“How did it—” you aren’t holding your phone anymore. You use the wall as support to lower yourself to pick up your phone and snack.

“—ay, mami, lo siento, mi cellular se cayo de mi mano.”

“Todo bien, hija! I’m glad you’re ok.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m ok, I’m ok. Anyways— how was the date? What’s he like? Am I going to have a stepfather soon?” you joke.

“My time for marriage is gone, muñeca, I’m just looking for companionship, pero, tu lo sabes.” You hear some subtle clinking in the background of the call, she must be stirring her coffee. You open your snack and park yourself on the couch. “Are you writing?” Ugh. Not you, too.

“I was, just finished for a bit before I called you.”

“You called me to procrastinate.” You choke on your seaweed from the accusation.

You clear your throat, “I called to check in with you. I call you practically every day.”

“But right now you called me to check up on me as an excuse to not write. Nena, I know you.”

“Okay, fine. I might be having some writer’s block,” you admit, sighing.

“And that’s okay, nena, but then you need to get out, get some inspiration. Allow the world to give you a story.” There’s mama, with her easier-said-than-done advice. But, maybe you should get out of the house.

“Alright, I’ll go out soon.”

“Tonight,”

“—I will go out to the Chinese place across the street and nothing more. I’ll talk with Hobie when he gets back to see if he has any ideas.” You hear your mama make a noise in her throat.

“You still live with that boy?” Here it comes. You’ve lived with Hobie Brown for three years and have known him for five. She’s always been apprehensive of him, since he’s radical and looks like he’s been in jail, with all the metal in his face, and why does his hair look like that? But Hobie is the one who’s kept you sane all these years. He’s held you while you cried and pushed out of your comfort zone when you were getting too stuck into your routines, most likely by dragging you to a concert or a protest. You help him thrift and flip clothes and ever since that one time his stylist had an emergency and canceled, you now help him tighten his wicks every so often. On days like that the two of you stay in, watching nostalgic movies and listening to any demos he’s recorded recently. He’s like a brother to you at this point.

“Yes, mama, I still live with Hobie. Nothing’s changed.” You move the phone down to your chest and take a deep breath.

“I didn’t like him when I first met him,” you clench your jaw as she continues— “…and although he’s one of those kids, I can tell he is a good boy. I’m glad he takes care of you.” You relax. “But it wouldn’t hurt to have someone you could kiss.” “It would be nice, but right now it’s not happening.” “Alright, muñeca. I’ll leave you alone for now, but keep your eyes open for a nice man.”

“I will, con cuidado, mami, besitos.” You make a kissing noise into the phone, and she responds with a goodbye of her own, and you wait for her to hang up the call.

You sigh, and look at the coffee table. Hobie left his song book at home, weird. It’s open to the song he was working on the other day. It’s a slower song, you can still hear the melody. You drum your fingers to the tune. He’s on an unfinished verse. You pick up a pen from the little catch-all dish and scribble down a line or two.

…

Hobie weaves through the roar of chattering, anticipating fans and into the tunnel, and walks past employees and into Miguel's prep room to see him tying his shoes. “Hey,” Miguel looks up. “Hey.”

“Are you excited?” He moves to sit by the boxer, shimmying up against his shoulder.

“Haven’t really been excited for one of these in a while.” Miguel breathes.

“Well, one step closer to retirement!” Hobie bounces out of his seat. He turns to face his friend, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re gonna do great, you big fuckin’ bear of a man.” He ruffle’s Miguel’s hair.

Miguel gives a half-ass hum in response.

“Well then, I’ll be out there, mate, cheerin’ you on.” He puts his hands in his vest pockets and walks out the room.

As he reaches the empty doorframe, Miguel speaks up. “Thank you, Hobie.”

“Anything for you, mate.” Hobie nods and goes to join the audience. Miguel fastens his gloves and puts on his robe. He warms up waiting for his coach.

“Ready, O’Hara?”

Miguel turns around. “Always ready for a fight.” He clenches his jaw. Walking down that hallway, the festive colors lighting up his path and the music blaring, he does his little bit, the movements molded into muscle memory.

This is it. This is his last year fighting. If he gets world champ again, he’s free.

Soon, he gets to fight his last fight. And dammit, the world championship will be his last match. Then, he’s never gonna have to come back.

He weaves under the ropes, entering the ring. Sitting on the stool, he shrugs off the robe and lets Carlos put the mouthguard in.

“You are going to show this guy exactly why people call you el oso!” Miguel beats his gloves together and nods. He might not like his job right now, but he really wants to hit something and goddammit if his opponent doesn’t look so beatable right now.

Coach Carlos steps out of the way, and Miguel stands to walk to the ref as he calls for him to center.

“We went over the rules in the dressing room.” Right before Hobie got here. “I want to remind you to protect yourself at all times, and obey my commands.” Ring the damn bell already. “God bless you both,” I don’t need it but this kid might. “Touch up,” here we go. He touches gloves with his newbie opponent and each goes back to their respective corners.

Miguel takes an orthodox stance.

The bell rings.

Miguel lands the first punch. He also lands the last.

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