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littlelou22 · 1 year

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you’re my sunshine | joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you and joel are polar opposites. you are sunshine while he is cloudy. but you’re his sunshine and he doesn’t quite know how to handle that.

warnings: insecure!joel, undefined age gap (reader is in 20s, joel is canon age), judgy ass jackson people

word count: 2.5k

divider credit: @saradika

requested: yes by the lovely and inspiring @pedgeitopascal 🫶🏻 find it here

a/n: second fic, lets gooooo. requests are open, so drop one if you would like (i'm still new at this so i may not do all of them, just trying to get back into writing first)

The people of Jackson were stumped by the three newcomers.

Well, more specifically, they were stumped by you.

They didn’t understand how someone like you came along with the man and the girl.

There was Ellie. Even though she is only fourteen, the girl was wise beyond her years. A young girl that possessed the vocabulary of a sailor. Rough around the edges. Strong willed, incredibly witty, and as sarcastic as one could possibly be.

There was Joel. A man hardened by the cards that life seemed to have dealt him, emotionally stunted, and just plain grumpy. Borderline rude to the members of the community, apart from his brother and sister in law. Over cautious of each and every person in the community.

And then there was you.

A woman who embodies the word sunshine. An optimist. The type to always lend a hand whenever needed. Smiles constantly adoring your face. You can find good in any situation, even during the apocalypse.

So it came as a surprise when the community found out that you were dating the grumpy old man.

If someone had asked when you and Joel had gotten together, you wouldn’t know what to tell them. You don’t know how or when it happened, it just was. It had always been.

The two of you met a few years prior. Tess insisted that they needed another partner, a younger woman to attract a different type of customer. At first, Joel didn’t care. If that’s what the girl would do, then that was that. But when Tess brought you home, it shifted for him. He couldn’t stand the thought of the men in the QZ doing business with someone as sweet as you. As pure as you.

So he looked out for you and in turn, you did the same. Quick hellos turned into small talk which turned into conversations. A pickup turned into a hangout which turned into you going to sleep in his bed every night. It just happened.

You were Joel’s and he was yours. It was simple.

Simple to you, at least. You loved him, it was obvious to anyone around you. You looked at him as if he was the center of the universe. You told him as much, as frequently as he would allow you to. It didn’t bother you too much that he never said it back. Regardless of the small and doubting voices in your head, you knew he felt the same.

Joel, even after years with you by your side, still didn’t quite understand how someone like you could be with someone like him. How someone like him could deserve to be with someone like you. After everything he had done before you, everything he had done to protect you.

But you were. And it isn’t that Joel is complaining, because he is not, he just doesn’t know what to do about it. How to act around you in public with the prying (and equally as confused as him) eyes.

Everywhere the two of you went, the eyes followed. The thoughts of the community consumed Joel’s mind. He knew what they thought of him, hell, what they thought about Ellie. And while he couldn’t stand how they viewed his surrogate daughter, he understood why they viewed him.

He wasn’t kind like you. He didn’t acclimate like how you did. He didn’t offer his skills to better the community. He avoided going to the movie nights unlike you, who embraced the chance to mingle with the community.

Joel didn’t miss the way the people would shy away from you whenever he would approach. How their conversation would abruptly end with a forced goodbye, as if Joel was an intruder to his own relationship.

As the time went by, Joel began to doubt himself. How could someone like you want to be with him? With a past like his? He wasn’t worthy of your attention. Of your time. Of your love.

Hell, Joel couldn’t even bring himself to tell you that he loved you. Even after all the years you’ve spent together. He did, he loved you more than he ever thought was possible after Sarah died. He just didn’t know how to tell you.

Joel wasn’t a man of words, he was a man of action. He showed you that he loved you. Whether it was fixing you your favorite tea in the morning or building bookshelves for the many books you’ve found on patrol, he showed his love through acts of service.

But he was beginning to doubt that it was enough for you.

It started at the Tipsy Bison. Joel had promised to help Tommy repair one of the decks to a house. You weren’t much help with a task like this, to your dismay, so you had wandered off to town with the promise of meeting the brothers when they had finished for the night.

Ellie opted to stay back at the house, feigning sickness. You could see right through her act but knew how the girl had been struggling since arriving in Jackson. How she had been struggling before the three of you even got here. So, in spite of Joel’s obvious displeasure, you granted her the solace that she was silently requesting.

You were sitting at the bar with a group of women, discussing the upcoming holiday and how the town would celebrate it, when the Miller brothers made their appearance in the establishment.

And while your smile grew at the sight of your man, the women around you seemed to tense. As Joel approached you, the conversation faded into quiet murmurs.

“Hi babe,” you greeted as he stopped in front of your stool. You watched as his cheeks flushed at the pet name, the smile you wore only growing. “You and Tommy finish the deck?”

“Not yet,” Joel responded, hand rubbing at the back of his neck. He nodded to the women surrounding you, only receiving a tight lipped smile back in response. “Got too dark and Maria needed him home.”

“The girls and I were just talking about how we could convince Tommy to dress up as Santa for the kids this year. Wouldn’t that be sweet?” You were excited about the idea, evident by the happiness lighting up your face.

“The sweetest,” Joel replied, shifting foot to foot under the watchful eyes of the women around you.

As you filled Joel in on the other plans for the upcoming celebration, the three other women that you had been planning with watched the interaction. It was almost comical to Joel – he was labeled as the rude one, yet these women were looking back and forth between the two of you with obvious confusion. Suspicion towards Joel. And, if Joel was reading it right, one of them was wearing a shade of disgust.

Joel knew he wasn’t the best type of person in the world but to be looked at with disgust seemed a bit too far for him.

“Joel?” Your voice startled him from his thoughts. You had slipped your coat on before beginning to rise from the barstool you had been perched upon. “You ready to get back home? I want to make sure Ellie is okay.”

With a smile and a wave, you bid the ladies a goodbye before turning to your boyfriend. You watched as he forced a nod at them before he began to make his way towards the exit. Falling into step with him, you slip your hand into his coat pocket, lacing your fingers along his with a squeeze. Eyes on his face as you watch him let out a shuddering breath, shoulders tensing even more than they usually were.

You may be an optimist that sees the best in not only every person that you encounter but in the world as well, even if it is a fucked up mess thanks to the cordyceps. You may be a cheerful person with a smile on your face more often than not, even in the face of danger. But you weren’t stupid.

And you certainly weren’t blind.

You saw how the people in Jackson treated Joel. How they looked down upon him. He may not be totally involved in the community, but he helped where he could and when he could. The people of this town operated on favors, but it was hard to fulfill one for someone when you were on patrol as much as Joel was.

Everyone took rotations, yourself included. But Joel took it a step further. Maybe it was his incessant need to protect Ellie and yourself, maybe it was his nature. Or maybe it was just what he thought he could best provide to the community for. Joel was outside the wall more than he was inside of it, patrolling new and old areas alike to ensure the community’s safety. Going on what seemed like endless supply runs to restock any medication, materials, and other things that anyone could potentially even need.

Not only did you see everything Joel did for the community, even if they couldn’t share that view, but you saw how Joel treated Ellie. How he treated you.

How he wasn’t good with words or how he didn’t know how to show affection. But you knew, regardless of if he put it into words, how much he loved his two girls.

You knew he loved the two of you through the surprises he would bring back from patrol for the two of you. Whether it was a book you had mentioned liking in your childhood or hunting down every last remaining can of Chef Boyardee for Ellie, he showed you. Whether it was the old guitar he had traded to get for Ellie on her birthday or the singular flower he would pick for you ‘just because’, he showed you.

But regardless of the bountiful thanks you both had given him, you can see the doubt pooling in his eyes. The disappointment eating away at him at the thought of not being able to give the two of you more. The constant guilt of his past actions. You knew what he thought of himself and you knew that he didn’t think he could ever deserve you.

You just didn’t share that opinion.

So when you hear the women you were previously conversing with snickering about your boyfriend as you walk towards the exit, something snapped within you.

Slipping your hand from his, you practically march your way back to the women, leaving a perplexed Joel behind, watching from the door of the restaurant. Watching as your hand smacks onto the bar top in front of them, leaning over to sneer at each of them. You didn’t get like this often, preferring kindness, but when you did, Joel couldn’t help but gawk at you.

“You may think you know him,” your voice is as cold as your glare. “But you couldn’t even begin to understand the type of person that Joel is. Might I remind you that none of you have been on the other side of that wall, so you truly have no idea what he does every damn day to make sure that you can sit here on your asses and gossip like small town bitches.”

The women before you go silent, jaws dropping at your words. They hadn’t expected someone like you to snap. But the people of Jackson, especially those that were not on patrol rotation, had no idea what it was like on the outside. You had to do what you had to do, regardless of your sunny disposition. Just because you were usually radiating positivity didn’t mean you wouldn’t bite back when necessary.

You take their lack of a response as an answer. “Next time you want to judge someone based on their first impression, maybe try to understand what they’ve been through to get to this point first. If you went through even a fraction of the shit that the three of us went through to get here, you’d actually think before you spoke.”

“That’s not what we meant–”

“Then what did you mean by the constant glares? The whispering when you think no one can hear you? Running away the second you see him?” You raise your eyebrows at them, challenging them to respond. “Please tell me what you meant, I’m sure you had a great reason.”

Their mouths opened and closed, searching for the words but found none. Still in shock over your outburst.

“That’s what I thought. Let’s keep this from happening again, yeah?” With that, you turn and head towards the door. As you pass Joel, you grab his hand and tug him outside. Once outside, you take a deep breath of fresh air, halting in your steps in effort to calm down your racing thoughts.

“W-What was that?” He asks, equally as stunned as the women that got told off by you.

You shrug. “I don’t like the way they talk about you. Or about Ellie.”

Joel shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest as he stands in front of you. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” you answer simply. “I know how it affects you. How you think about yourself as is. They only make it worse and that’s not okay with me.”

“You can’t blame them,” Joel sighs, rubbing his gloved hand down his face. “They aren’t wrong.”

“They are wrong, baby,” you tug his hands from his face, replacing them with your own by cupping his cheeks. “You have no idea how far from the truth they are, how far you are.”

You thumb his cheeks, a small smile playing on your lips as you think about him. “I know you don’t view yourself in the brightest light, Joel, but you are everything to me. You and Ellie are the best things in my life, I wouldn’t trade the two of you for anything in the world. I would do anything, say anything to make sure that you know how much you mean to me.”

His eyes are glassy as his hands slowly make their way to your wrists, swallowing hard at your words. You know he struggles to hear it, to hear any sort of praise that would go against his thoughts.

“You’re a man of action, not a man of words,” you whisper. “Let me show you how much I love you.”

Leaning up on your tiptoes, you press your lips to his. Joel stiffens, not used to the public display of attention. You hold firm, sliding your hands off his cheeks to wrap around his neck in an effort to pull him closer to you. After a moment, you feel him relax, hands shifting to your hips as he molds his lips against yours.

The two of you stay entangled in each other for a few more moments, lips dancing with one other. With one last peck, Joel pulls back, eyes shining as he takes your swollen lips and flushed skin. He looks at you in wonder, thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

“I love you too,” Joel whispers. “My sunshine.”

And for the first time in a long time, the smile on your face is mirrored on his.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #insecure joel #still getting used to it #joel the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #m writes

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hheaven-sentt · 4 months

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devotion

summary: because love doesn't quite capture it | leon kennedy x partner!reader

word count: 2.4k

warnings: depictions of injuries, angst if you squint, mentions of alcohol consumption, yearning, mutual pining, partners to friends to lovers

notes: BACK FROM THE DEAD W A VENGEANCE. my semester has finished and my second one doesn't start until january so i will be posting for once. college is kicking my ass like all the time so it puts everything else on pause for me anyway ily all | ao3

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The dress feels itchy against your skin. You don’t want to go to this event, so you can’t imagine how Leon feels. He doesn’t even like when you thank him for doing the dishes, so you wonder how he might behave up on a stage to receive a medal. You stretch behind you, reaching for the zipper. Wordlessly, Leon turns to you and zips it up himself. Of course he does; that’s just Leon.

“This is weird,” he says. It’s barely a whisper, breath dusting over your shoulder as he says it. You nod with a sigh.

“I wouldn’t say weird,” you return. You watch his eyes in the mirror. They hover somewhere on your forehead. “Not normal, but not weird,” “I think it’s weird,” he says, and steps away. You nod again, because what else can you say?

Working with Leon has its ups and downs. He’s too quiet some days, and you have to fill in the gaps yourself. Or he’s too loud–sometimes without even saying anything–and you have to figure out how to deal with it. Or he’s just Leon; he laughs and jokes, he helps cook dinner, he doesn’t talk about work. You like those days the best. Had you seen these versions of Leon when you were assigned to him almost ten years ago, you would’ve laughed. Ten years ago, you couldn’t imagine being this close to someone, to care as much as you do about someone you’re paid to be around.

You suppose there’s layers to it, layers you haven’t fully unraveled yet. You know only a few things for certain: Leon is your partner, he is also your unofficial roommate, and you care about him more than you care about others.

“Are you ready?” he asks. He’s standing in the doorway of the bedroom, the light from the hallway making him look like an angel descending to relay a message from God. You swallow and nod.

“Just need my shoes,” you say, moving to the bed and sliding your shoes across the floor to be in front of you. Leon bends down without a word to help you fasten them.

When he looks up at you, he looks less like your partner and more like someone you’re meant to love. An ache resonates within you, a need to reach out a brush your fingers through his darkened hair. He shifts his gaze to your upper arm. Gingerly, he runs the tips of his fingers over a scar that spans from your elbow to your clavicle. It’s ugly and red, courtesy of the nasty burn you’d sustained there a few years ago. The ridged skin is unfeeling as Leon skirts his hand across it, tracing it from your elbow to your shoulder.

“I remember when you got this,” he says absently. His fingers dance across your skin, and you wish the scar didn’t run so deep so you could feel his ministrations. “Thought I’d lost you,”

He says nothing more, just stands up and offers his hand to you to help you off the bed. You take it, and he hauls you up with ease. He twists out of the room like a ghost. You follow him, like you always do.

The scar is one of a few you’ve come to own. You remember the day you got it, too. For whatever reason, you replay the moment in your head over and over in the taxi on the way to the gala. It makes your skin burn.

It was supposed to be a normal day, a normal mission. Go in, extract, get out. Three simple steps that you had done a hundred thousand times before. Leon stood beside you, always offering to enter a room first. You’ll admit, years removed from the situation, you should’ve been more careful, should’ve listened to what he was saying. But you were so angry at him. You felt weak, unnecessary. You remember shoving past him and through a door you hadn’t known was connected to a trigger. Almost as soon as your boot touched the concrete on the other side of the threshold, your hearing went out. It felt like you were standing miles away from a nuclear blast, and you had felt the effects of the delayed shockwave. You were knocked to the ground in an instant, but you didn’t feel pain–not yet at least. When you woke up in the hospital a day later, Leon was asleep in the chair beside you.

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” he’d said. You vowed not to.

“Do you think they’ll at least have an open bar?” he says now, drawing you back into the world. You turn away from the window of the cab to look at him. He’s staring at his hands, forcing a small smile.

“They better,” you say, reaching over and settling a hand on his shoulder. He looks at you. “It’s the only reason I’m going,”

This turns his smile genuine, and he even offers an eyeroll. You squeeze his shoulder, bracelets jingling with the motion. His eyes are on you, and you feel as hot as fresh sin. You hate this; hate that he makes you feel this way, hate that he is so beautiful, hate that you can’t seem to shake this deep seated love you harbor for him. You miss him when he looks away and you remove your hand.

The gala is overwhelming. Leon stays near you, hand hovering near your own. You wish he would reach out and take it. You debate the consequences of doing it yourself.

Breath hot on the shell of your ear, Leon whispers, “You think our taxes went into this?”

You suppress a laugh, tightening your lips into a thin line to fight a smile. “I wouldn’t be surprised, but I’ll pretend like this was all donated,”

“You can consider taxes a donation if you really think about it,” he says, gliding across the floor with you toward an empty table. You snort.

“I think that depends on what your definition of donation is,” you say. He pulls out your chair for you before pushing it in, then takes his own seat beside you. His legs are angled toward you like he only plans on talking to you.

“I think you underestimate my ability to bend definitions to suit my needs,” he says. You laugh again.

You like this version of Leon, and you know that it won’t last very long so you should hold onto it while it’s here. An old jazz song rings out from the speakers across the hall, and the lights catch his eyes just right. They’re really blue, as true blue as blue gets. They’re your favorite shade of blue. If you could paint your living room that color, you would. It’s a soft blue, like the crest of a wave blue, like the sky just after dawn blue, like two perfect oceans set into his skull. There’s a hairline scar that runs between the crows feet of his left eye, one you ache to reach out and trace.

That’s the best way to describe how you feel when you look at Leon: aching. It’s desperation, an aching need to touch and hold. It’s not exactly love, but you don’t have another word for it. Maybe devotion? Looking at him feels like the first time a child sees a kitten. You’re like me, soft and lovable, and we should stay together.

“Have you listened to anything I’ve said in the last few minutes?” Leon asks, putting a hand on your knee that brings you back to the gala. You suck in a breath and shake your head. He smiles wide. “Quit staring at me, makes me feel like I’ve got something on my face,”

“You’re pretty,” you say before you can stop yourself. Maybe pretty is the wrong word, but you don’t know what the right one would be. He’s handsome, sure, but handsome doesn’t encapsulate the way his lashes flutter against his cheekbones or the way he blushes when you smile at him. “Sorry,”

He’s grinning now, giving your knee a squeeze. “You flatter me,”

An hour later, and he’s being called up on stage by your director, who intends to decorate him. You’re beaming with pride, even though you know Leon is dreading this moment. He stumbles across the stage. Cameras are flashing, and you can almost see Leon cringe between photos. He’s off the stage a few minutes later, heading straight for you. You grin more, knowing that he’s choosing to seek solace in you, in your company. He wraps you in a stiff hug that loosens as it endures. You laugh into his shoulder.

“Don’t let me do anything heroic ever again,” he mumbles, burying his face into your neck. You bark a laugh.

“Yeah, okay,” you agree. “I’ll make sure to step in next time,”

In an act that surprises you, Leon tugs you toward the dance floor. You must look wildly confused because he explains, “Just this once. Just one dance,”

You agree, not that you could deny even if you wanted to. He’s looking at you like you’re someone he’s meant to love, like you’re more than just his partner. His hand slots against the curve of your waist like it was made specifically to be there. He’s warm and smiling, and you think maybe he’s had a bit too much champagne. But you like him like this. Who knows when you’ll see him like this again? You stare at him, intent to memorize his features and the way the light catches on the bridge of his nose.

“You’re staring again,” he whispers. You smile sheepishly.

“Never seen you like this,” you reply. He bows his head to chuckle. “Not sure I’ll ever get the chance to again,”

“I’m sure you will,” he says. “You’re the one who brings it out of me,”

You roll your eyes. “I’m more convinced it’s all the free champagne we’ve been drinking,”

“You can believe whatever you want, sweetness,” he says, spinning you. “I’m telling you the truth,”

You’re both giggly and joking the whole way home. Leon has you wheezing about something you can’t remember as you step into the apartment. Tears rest at the corners of your eyes. You shove him playfully. He follows you from room to room like a puppy, making you giggle and flash a smile as you clean up for the night.

You crash onto the bed, warm and light from the night, and reach to take off your shoes. Leon stands in the doorway, watching you. The light from the hallway gives him a halo. Your feet ache as you release them from their prisons, and you glance up to see Leon smiling at you. You return it with the cock of one of your brows.

“You’re pretty,” he says by way of explanation. You feel heat snake up your body. His hands are stuffed into his pockets, hair slightly messy from where he’s run his hands through it, and the first few buttons of his shirt are undone. If you weren’t as shy as you are, you’d probably move to touch him.

Instead, you huff a laugh and toss your shoes to the floor. “You flatter me,”

When you stand and begin to move around him, he grabs your elbow. “I mean it,”

Perhaps, in another life, you would see this as a win. The man you’ve spent most of your life following around and yearning for seemingly returns your affections, and you are about to deny him. Admitting it out loud makes it real, makes it mean something. What happens the next time something goes wrong out there? The next time he does something heroic? Everything will be much too real, and much harder to bury. You blink at him, looking at him for what feels like the very first and last time. He’s still Leon; scruffy stubble, blue eyes, and warmth. He’s still Leon, teetering on being your Leon, and you’re not going to let that happen. You, again, are going to deny yourself from what you want.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. You take in a shaky breath. He’s still holding you, but his touch is a ghost on your flesh.

“Leon, I don’t know-”

“You know that one Frank Sinatra song?” he interrupts. You gape at him.

“Why did you ask if you won’t let me answer?” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. He returns his hands to his pockets.

“Predicted where it was going, figured I’d circumvent it,” he admits, the corner of his lips turning upward slightly. “The song he sings with his wife?”

You shrug. “Maybe? What’s your point?”

“I love you,” he says. Your body goes cold. “That could be the stupidest thing I’ve ever said, but I feel like you should know that before you make whatever decision you’re about to make,”

Your face breaks out into a grin, and you laugh in spite of yourself. “I’m sure you’ve said stupider,”

Whatever worry was on Leon’s face dissolves, and a real, full smile splits across his lips. He takes your face in his hands. He holds you delicately, like you’d break under the slightest pressure. To be fair, you feel like glass at the moment–if glass could have legs made of rubber.

“This makes it real,” you say. He swallows. “No going back, no forgetting, no pretending. When something happens, it will be real,”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he whispers. “It’s worked out for us so far,”

You’re not sure who closes the space first, but it matters little after it’s happened. His lips are gentle and giving against your own. Your hands splay against his sides, using his suit jacket to pull him closer. His hands wind into your hair. There’s a desperation behind his movements, one you’re all too familiar with. After what feels like hours, he breaks from you, leaning his forehead against yours. His breathing is labored, you can feel it in his strong chest beneath your hands.

“This is real,” he says.

“We take risks for a living,” you say. He opens his eyes to peek at you through his lashes. “What’s one more right?”

He grins and kisses you again.

#leon kennedy x reader #my fics #m writes #resident evil #x reader #partner!reader #resident evil fanfic #leon kennedy #id leon kennedy

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easemysoul · 1 year

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Injured - J.B

Jude Bellingham × Reader

Warnings: mentions of an injury, set in a hospital

Notes: Not proofread !!

Word count: 539

Summary:

Jude gets injured

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Babe. Babe. Babe. Babe.” You can hear your boyfriend repeating the word as he pokes your arm with one of his fingers.

You sigh, knowing if you don’t reply he’ll keep going.

“Yes, Jude?” You mumble, looking up from your phone. The message to Jude’s younger brother, Jobe, ready to be sent.

“Baby, if you were words on a page, you’d be fine print.” He says with a small wink and a smirk on his face.

“I hate you.” You mumble, rolling your eyes a little as you fight back a smile.

“No you don’t! You love me.” He grins.

You only shake your head in response as you finally send the text to Jobe, giving him another update on his older brother.

‘He’s doing alright. Still waiting for the doctor to come by.’ Your text reads.

The last hour or so has been a blur. One minute you’re in the stands watching Jude play…the next, you’re sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair in a big but quiet hospital with your boyfriend laying in a hospital bed.

You’ve been sitting here by his side waiting for the doctor to come back with results from a few scans that will show how serious his injury is.

Jobe and the rest of the Bellingham family were back home watching Jude play on the TV. He’s been texting you since he saw Jude being helped off the pitch by the BVB medical staff after a bad tackle where he injured his right ankle. You can feel his worry through the screen with each text he sends.

‘Okay. Please keep me updated’ The younger Bellingham responds to your text.

‘I will!’

Letting out another sigh, you put your phone down and turn to look at Jude.

He’s laying down, staring at the ceiling of the white hospital room. One arm behind his head, the other by his side.

“You okay, baby?” You mumble, reaching for his free hand.

You bring his hand to your mouth and kiss the back of it a few times, waiting for his answer.

“I’m alright.” He hums, letting out a yawn.

You almost melt at the sight.

“Sleep, Jude. I’ll wake you up when the doctor comes around.” You mumble, pressing another kiss to his skin.

He nods in response before settling into the large bed a bit better.

“Hey, babe?”

“Yes?”

“I was wondering if you’re an artist because you were so good at drawing me in.” Jude tiredly smirks, giggling a little when you roll your eyes again.

“What am I going to do with you?” You mumble, shaking your head and chuckling.

“Love me. Feed me. Never leave me?” Jude cheekily responds. This time, you let out a small chuckle.

You watch as he slowly falls asleep, exhausted from playing almost 80 minutes of a game and being in the hospital for who knows how long.

Bringing yourself closer to his bed,you rest your head by your joined hands and watch his breathing slowly even out. Your thumb rubs small circles on the back of his hand and you quietly hum one of his favourite songs, helping him fall asleep.

You stay sitting like that, waiting for the doctor and hoping it’s nothing serious.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham fics #borussia dortmund #jude bellingham x reader #bvb #fluff #reader #football imagines #m writes #football fics #my fics: bellinghamilton

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warmblanketwhump · 11 months

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I have a request idea if they're open! How about a whumpee who is sick and cannot stay home from school because of a big test, strict parents, something like that, and they go through the day trying to hide their fatigue and chills from everyone. But someone notices

hi there!! thanks so much for being patient - here you go!!! 🥰

_______________________

The light autumn breeze would be pleasant to anyone else, but today it cuts right through A, making them burrow deeper in their coat. They were already wearing a thermal layer under their shirt, plus a sweatshirt and a thick scarf round their neck, and they still grabbed their winter coat before leaving home this morning.

In their hands they clutch tea from the coffee shop by their dorm, willing the heat to travel through their fingers and warm them up. Getting the tea had made them miss their bus, so they were desperately hoping it would rouse them and help them get through the day.

If they were honest with themselves, A wished they were back in bed under the three blankets they’d pulled over themselves last night. But even though their joints ache and their head hurts and their throat burns, they have two tests and and a lecture that they just can't miss today.

With the medicine they took this morning, the first test is manageable, but barely. Their eyes feel like they’ve got sand in them, and they keep sniffling and coughing every couple of questions—so much so that one student next to them keeps shooting dirty looks. The student on the other side of them slides them a pack of tissues and two cough drops with a nod, and A's so touched by the gesture they could cry on the spot.

With shaking hands, they finish the test and hand it in before hurrying outdoors to their next class. The ache is more prominent in their bones now, and every step feels like they’re trying to walk through knee-deep water. To make matters worse, clouds have covered up the last strands of sunlight, leaving the world cold and gray.

The lecture is considerably worse. Their professor seems to be insisting on class participation and no one is speaking up, leading to students being randomly called on to answer questions. A tries to focus, but their head keeps bobbing once, twice, even as they fight to stay awake.

“A, are you with us?” Their professor’s stern voice snaps A awake.

“Can….can you repeat the question?” The professor sighs and repeats the question, and A stammers through an incorrect response.

By the end of lecture, A knows their fever is rising from the constant prickle of goosebumps across their skin. The chills are more constant now, rippling through them once, twice a minute, and they can't stop shivering. But their next class is their strictest professor—one known for extremely rigid gradings and very little room for excuses.

Keeping their head ducked, A drags their aching body into the last lecture hall, taking their usual spot next to B, their acquaintance from the class.

B's furiously poring over notes, but looks up and smiles when they see A sit down. “You ready for this test?”

A shrugs half-heartedly. "Hope so.”

B’s brows furrow at the sound of A’s raspy voice, at the bulky layers they’re wrapped in, the dark circles and pale face. They open their mouth to speak, but the professor claps their hands and calls the lecture hall to order.

The tests are passed out, but A can barely keep their eyes focused on the swirling numbers and fractions and bell curves. Making things worse, the lecture hall is drafty and poorly heated, and A wraps their arms around themselves to try and stop shaking enough to focus.

Their head feels heavy as they try to work out the equations, and A shifts to rest their head in their hands and give some relief to their stiff neck. As their eyelids weigh down, they feel all the fight leaving them as the relief comes. Just a minute to rest my eyes, and then I'll finish. Just a second....

A startles at the sound of chairs squeaking and students chatting and laughing. In a panic, they look down at their test, with only two answers written down, and with a sinking feeling, realize they dozed off for the entire class.

A panicked sob chokes out of them. Everything hinges on this class, and failed test was a death knell for their grade, their major, their entire university plan. They grab the paper with shaking hands, a tear slipping down their cheek. Stupid, stupid. So stupid for thinking they could do this, that they could power through, that they were strong enough to manage the rigor of university life.

“A?” B's standing, backpack over one shoulder, but stopped as they see A staring at their nearly blank sheet of paper.

“I….I fell asleep.” They turn to B, tears rolling down their cheeks, sheer panic on their pale face. "I was just so tired"—their voice cracks—"and I was just resting my eyes for a second....and I just..." A sob hiccups through them, and they drop the paper and bury their face in their hands.

B glances down at A, then at the professor at the front of the room, before gently squeezing A's shoulder and urging them up. Without a pause, they wrap their hand around A's elbow and tug them to the front of the rapidly emptying lecture hall. “Professor?”

The professor looks up from the stack of papers, peering over their spectacles. "Yes, B?" Their eyes flicker to A who's furiously wiping away the tears on their face, and B, the very model of determination.

"Professor, A's really sick, and they really wanted to finish the test today but they....weren't able to." The words tumble out, each one faster than the last. "They're usually pretty smart and they've even helped me figure out this stuff, but today just...wasn't their day, and I was wondering if...." B trails off, suddenly unsure of their exact demands.

The professor picks up where A drops off. "...if your friend A here can have some sort of adjustment made?"

"B, stop. It's fine. I'll just take the F." A's voice is hoarse, and they swipe at their swollen eyes with their sleeve.

"A, you can't—"

"It's fine."

The professor's hardened face doesn't adjust for the pitiful scene before them, but it's several seconds before they speak. "A, you are aware that I can't allow you to retake the test after everyone else has taken it."

A nods, head hanging low.

"However, you do recall from my syllabus that I automatically drop the lowest grade from the whole semester?"

Both A and B jolt at this, eyes snapping to the professor, who raises their eyebrows at both of them. "Ah. You do not."

"So you mean...." A's eyes are wide.

"Yes. This test won't count against you." The professor still doesn't smile, but there's a slightly bemused spark in their eyes. "And A, I may have a high standard for this class, but I try not to make a habit of running ill students into the ground over a test. Please email me ahead of time the next time you catch the plague. You and your fellow students will be better for it, hmm?"

A nods, scarcely registering what's happening before them. "Yes, professor. Thank you."

The professor nods back. "Good. Now B, please escort your friend to the nearest bed and bowl of chicken noodle soup. They seem to need it."

B nods as well, murmuring their thanks before tugging a dazed A alongside them and out to sit on a bench at the nearby bus stop.

"You don't have to stay with me," A rasps weakly, wrapping their arms around themselves in the chilly breeze. Despite the test debacle being resolved, A's still freezing and absolutely exhausted. "I can get home myself."

"A, you're not getting rid of me that easy." B throws an arm around A's shoulder, hugging them close for warmth, and A slumps over on B's shoulder, eyes half-lidded. "You forget I'm a pre-med major who's entire life goal is to help stubborn sick people like you."

"Yeah?" A's eyes slip closed, but there's a weak smile on their face.

"Yeah. First order of business, get you home and warmed up—don't deny it, you were shivering that whole class. Then, let you sleep for a week with intermittent breaks for medicine, fluids, and some very good soup."

As much as A had fully prepared to fight this illness out on their own, they have to admit that B's plan sounds....nice. "Fine, then. I'll be your test patient."

"Good."

#sickfic whump #university whump #cold whump #sickfic prompt #whump prompt #this was very fun to write!!#am i finally back in the saddle????#m writes

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tentacledwizard · 7 months

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truly The Character ever. She’s a lawyer. She lives in a treehouse and her mom is an ancient baby dragon. She plays with stuffed animals and then hangs them with nooses. She sees the world through exaggerated synesthesia. She licks computer screens and eats chalk. She’s a memer. She went blind after staring into the sun. Her blood is some shade of turquoise. She relentlessly flirts with everyone. She played extreme DnD. She types in leetspeak. She has a dragon-headed cane that she slices enemies up with. She roleplays over text. Her last name is a gemstone. She can see the consequences of her actions. At one point, she casually killed the main character by messing with him. Her name is terepy pyps and she wears crocs

#homestuck #terezi pyrope #m writes

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arithmonym · 9 months

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camilla is judgmental about what it means to be a good cavalier: the fic

#this is a little snippet from my exchange fic :3 #m writes #m speaks

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yellobb · 2 months

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Tell me about ye olde "cold case outline"

Ooooo I was hoping someone asked about this one when I first posted the ask game!!!!

From this ask game

Cold Case Outline

This is another WIP that my sister and I did that we actually fully fleshed out, but I am still holding out a bit of hope that one day I’ll actually write the damn thing.

Simon is a mechanic and Baz is an Instagram model. They first meet when Baz brings his Jag in, and he’s immediately enamored with Simon in his oil-stained tank top, messy curls, and freckles. Simon immediately falls in love with Baz’s Jag and fawns over it, which does not help Baz’s predicament. He starts coming to the shop as often as possible with any excuse he can think of (oil change, tire rotation, “the building is just very aesthetic, Snow, so I need you to take my picture while I pose all sexy”). He even keys his own car at one point to have an excuse to visit him (it was a moment of desperation and he’s not proud of it, but he stands by his actions).

Simon lives with Penny and Shepard. Shepard is very into true crime and is hoping to start a podcast of his own about it. Shep visits Simon at work one day, but he gets very quiet and starts staring at Baz when he walks in to drop off the Jag, looking like he’s seen a ghost. Baz is visibly uncomfortable, so Simon kicks Shep out until Baz is good to go. He asks Shep what the hell that was all about afterwards, and Shep is like “that’s Baz Pitch”. “Yeah, and?” “Like, Natasha and Malcolm Grimm-Pitch’s son?! From the 2002 Olympics! Do you think he’d let me interview him for my podcast?”

It turns out, Baz isn’t just mildly famous for his Instagram presence. In 2002, when he was just five years old, his mother was an Olympic figure skater. The day of her event, she didn’t show up to warm-ups. She was found dead under suspicious circumstances over a week later. There are clips of some of her last moments where she acts erratically that went viral, and her case has fascinated the public ever since.

We didn’t get far on actually writing out this story, but what I did finish is a news report that explains the circumstances of Natasha’s death 👀 I’ve included it under the cut if anyone wants to read it! I’m actually pretty damn proud of how it turned out and have always wanted to share it, so I hope y’all enjoy :)

Natasha Grimm-Pitch Death Still Stumps People 20 Years Later

Natasha Grimm-Pitch, world-renowned ice dance figure skater from Great Britain and 3x Olympic medalist, went missing on February 9th, 2002. That morning, her husband and partner, Malcolm Grimm, woke up to find she had not returned in the night. Assuming she had stayed the night with her sister, Fiona Pitch, who had traveled with the pair in order to watch their 5-year-old son, Tyrannus Grimm-Pitch, while they competed, Grimm got ready for the day’s competition, but began to grow worried when Pitch met him at the Salt Lake Ice Center without her sister. She had met Grimm to take Tyrannus, known as “Baz” by those close to the family, but was shocked to find out that Grimm-Pitch had not returned to the couple’s room in the Olympic Village.

“Nat had come over the night before, yeah,” Pitch said, when interviewed about the disappearance the day after the event. “She came over to my hotel room to get some stress relief. I mean, this was her moment. She’d been out of the public eye for a while, after having Baz, and felt like she needed to medal in order to prove herself. I couldn’t tell you who she was proving herself to, though. She never cared what other people thought of her; not even me.”

Grimm was hesitant to alert the police, hoping that his wife had stayed with a teammate, but couldn’t hesitate any longer once warm-up was scheduled to start and she had yet to make an appearance.

“Nat would never have missed a warm-up, especially not now. She’s always on time. Something happened to her,” Grimm told the press the day of the disappearance. Grimm-Pitch’s disappearance caused a stir in the Olympic Village, especially amongst her teammates.

“I knew Natasha. That woman was a force to be reckoned with. When I heard that Malcolm had forfeited their position, I knew something was wrong. Everyone was uneasy as soon as we heard. I think we all knew, deep down, what must have happened. None of us even saw Natasha take a sick day. There was no way in hell she was going to let something stop her from competing again,” said teammate, Mitali Bunce, a year after her disappearance.

A mass investigation was launched into the disappearance, with state and local police leading the search. Grimm searched the streets with his sister-in-law in the hopes of finding her, often leaving their child in the care of the other British athletes. Though the ice dance competition continued, this would not be the case for long.

Natasha Grimm-Pitch’s body was found, washed-up in nearby Farmington Bay, on February 20th, just over a week after her disappearance. The Olympic Village, and the world, watched on in shock as her death was officially announced by the Salt Lake City Police Department at 11:08 AM. The Olympic Committee officially suspended what remained of the ice dance competition that evening, putting out a statement about the tragedy:

“In light of the recent tragedy involving ice dancer, Natasha Grimm-Pitch, the Olympic Committee has unanimously decided to suspend the ice dance competition for the remainder of the Olympic season. We ask the figure skating community to come together at this time to honor her legacy and mourn her loss. The Committee will reconvene in the next month to determine when the events will be completed.”

Her body was flown back to the family’s home in Hampshire, UK, but the FBI stayed in contact with British authorities for the resulting investigation. In the coming months, the mystery only grew. According to her autopsy, Grimm-Pitch had been dead for around 230 hours, placing her death sometime on the evening of February 10th, the day after she went missing. To make the case more shocking, she had only been submerged in the water for five days upon being found, meaning there was a six day gap between her death and her body being, supposedly, dumped in the bay. Despite this, she appeared to have died of natural causes, with nothing to indicate that she had resisted an attacker. There were already rumors in the news surrounding foul play, but things really exploded once security camera footage was made publicly available in April 2002.

In a now infamous clip, Grimm-Pitch is shown entering the Olympic Village at 3:00 AM, missing her shoes and the bag her sister claimed she left her hotel room with. Grimm-Pitch appears to be disoriented, running to hide behind walls and looking around wildly, despite no one being in the vicinity. The footage lasts six minutes, with Grimm-Pitch circling the building she was staying in, even briefly entering the entranceway before stumbling back out.

Her erratic behaviour combined with the confounding circumstances around her actual death threw the media into a frenzy. Every major news outlet reported for over a month with updates in the case, but no suspects were ever identified. It seemed that there were no leads whatsoever. The figure skating community and the true crime community alike waited with bated breaths to find if her death was ruled a suicide, homicide, or accident.

Unfortunately, the answer never came. In 2013, the case was unofficially closed after over a decade with no new information. The case has gone down as one of the most shocking and mysterious disappearances in British and American history alike. The Grimms and Pitches are still desperate for answers, though.

A year after the death of his wife, Malcolm Grimm officially announced his campaign for Prime Minister in the United Kingdom. Despite critics saying he was using Grimm-Pitch’s death to further his political aspirations, which had begun in 1997 with the birth of his son, he won the seat. With his victory, the most popular conspiracy theory surrounding Grimm-Pitch’s death was born.

Many people believe that Grimm knew their performance would fail, leading to them fading from the public eye. To prevent this, Grimm chose to murder his wife and use the sympathy he garnered following her death to get elected. He, allegedly, drugged her, waited for her to die, and hid her body in their room until, six days later, the police grew suspicious of him, so he dumped her body in the bay as a cover-up. Proponents of this theory claim that the mortician performing the autopsy was paid off to lie about finding drugs in her system.

Another popular theory surrounds Fiona Pitch. Pitch has a record of substance abuse, so theories have circulated about her, accidentally or otherwise, giving Grimm-Pitch more than she could handle (despite multiple sources stating that she never used drugs). The theory states that Grimm-Pitch managed to leave her sister’s hotel room before she started experiencing delusions and paranoia. Her sister, who had aided in the search for her, then found her body six days later, dead from overdose, and dumped her in the bay to avoid indicating herself in manslaughter. Many point to a 1995 case involving Pitch where her boyfriend, Nicodemus Petty, overdosed in their London apartment. Pitch herself barely survived the ordeal, but was saved when Petty’s sister, Ebeneza Petty, happened to visit that morning and was able to call paramedics. Pitch was convicted of illegal substance abuse and spent five years in rehabilitation facilities. She claims that she has been clean ever since.

Others believe that it was simply a case of mania, despite Grimm-Pitch’s nearly spotless mental health record. She had been prescribed Wellbutrin following the birth of her son, but stopped using it after only a year. To this day, the case remains unsolved.

Despite the rumors surrounding the family, they have seen unbelievable success. Grimm still enjoys a successful political career, but the star of the show is Tyrannus “Baz” Grimm-Pitch. He has grown a large following online, amassing thirty million followers on his Instagram since its creation in 2018. Grimm-Pitch enjoys a life as an Instagram model with an estimated net worth of nearly $10 million. Despite being in the limelight since his mother’s death, he has yet to publicly comment on the infamous case. His aunt acts as his manager, but abstains from all public appearances.

#m writes #m answers #tag game #wip #the simon snow series #simon snow #baz pitch #snowbaz

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marsreds · 2 months

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar) Characters: Katara (Avatar), Zuko (Avatar) Additional Tags: Post-Finale, mostly gen but i know what i'm about, ANYHOW, guess i'm sort of back? Summary:

After the Agni Kai, Katara tries to keep afloat.

#lmao #zutara #avatar the last airbender #atla #m avatars #m writes #zuko #katara #can you believe #can you believe i'm getting back into this #i'm struggling #i guess i still love them with all of my heart #shrug emoji #etc #anyhow #leave me a comment

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sauron-kraut · 20 days

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Summary:

He remembers the labour and pain of creating a body. Of giving birth to himself when the world was new.

Mairon and Thuringwethil visit Melkor in Angband, a good time ensues. Mairon thinks back on his creation.

Yes, I went there and let them have a threesome.

Hey, for once (almost) everyone is having a great time, which nearly never happens in my fics.

How did they end up like that, you ask? I have no idea. I'm taking suggestions.

Not beta'd!

Warnings: explicit, child death, mild gore, they're their own warning

#mairon #sauron #melkor #thuringwethil #angbang #mairon x thuringwethil #my writing #m writes #silmarillion #the silmarillion #silmarillion fanfiction #silm fanfic #tolkien fanfiction #tolkien fanfic #ficlet #not beta'd

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formula-hamilton · 9 months

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The Favorite Duo | Lewis Hamilton x reader

Summary: Everyone thinks that Lewis and his best friend are dating. Face claim: Anna Lin A/N: I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think

yourusername

Liked by lewishamilton, spinzbeatinc, and 16.571 others

yourusername Life lately

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lewishamilton 🔥

yourfriend Slaying as always 🥵

hamiltonsworld I don't know if I wanna be her or be with her

44grid Be with her, no doubt. Lewis is one lucky man hamiltonsworld Ermm sorry to break it to you but they're just friends...

lewishamilton

Liked by yourusername, pierregasly, and 1.254.156 others

lewishamilton Paris with bestie

Tagged yourusername

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yourusername 🫶🏼 best city with the best friend

mercedesamgf1 Fave duo 🤩

roscoelovescoco Mums and dads 😃

yourusername

Liked by lewishamilton, yourfriend, and 20.678 others

yourusername Summer days with you

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lewishamilton ❤️

stillwerise I still don't believe that they're just friends

yourusername added a story

yourusername

Liked by yourfriend, spinzbeatinc, and 14.271 others

yourusername Birthday celebrations with my boo

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yourfriend Couple goals

lewisarmy No Lewis?

mercerdesupdates She always posts Lewis on her birthday. Wtf is going on?

lewishamilton

Liked by landonorris, roscoelovescoco, and 1.381.169 others

lewishamilton No time for distractions

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mercedesamgf1 👊 let's go

yourusername

Liked by lewishamilton, spinzbeatinc, and 17.871 others

yourusername I'm doing good I'm on some new shit

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hamiltonsworld Lewis in the likes!!!!

yourfriend Baddie no 1

lewischampion You are GLOWING

lewishamilton Looking good

lewishamilton

Liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, and 1.691.163 others

lewishamilton Never letting her go again

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yourusername Best day with the best boyfriend :)

spinzbeatinc Finally! Thank you lord for hearing my prayers

roscoelovescoco Mums and dads 😃

#f1 imagine #lewis hamilton #instagram imagine #insta au #m writes #insta edit #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fic #social media au #lewis hamilton social media au #f1 social media au #lewis hamilton insta au

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littlelou22 · 1 year

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pretend | joel miller x fem!reader

summary: joel ends things with you, leaving you in the dark as to why. will the two of you get back together or stay apart?

warnings: angst, hurt, mean!joel, insecure!joel, eventual fluff, age gap (reader in undefined age but young, joel’s canon age), language, men being TRASH, violence, y/n used like twice, probs shitty writing, idk let me know if I miss any

divider credit: @saradika

word count: 6.2k

author's note: my first post, let me know what you think :)

requests open!

The two of you stood on opposite sides of the bed in your – his – room, chest heaving as you stare at Joel. You didn’t know what had gotten into him, the two of you were fine when you returned from patrol a few hours earlier. Joel had gone to help Tommy with something and you had taken Ellie to see whatever movie was playing tonight.

“I don’t understand why you’re being so cold with me,” you spoke, shaking your head.

And you truly didn’t. You and Ellie had stopped at the Tipsy Bison to pick up dinner for the three of you after Joel was helping Tommy. Ellie had run off while you waited for the food, seeing Dina stationed at one of the tables. You passed the time at the bar, occasionally making forced small talk with the other patrons. Even though you had been in Jackson for a few months, you still didn’t feel quite at ease with most of the people here.

After you got the food, you ventured off home with Ellie to wait until Joel was done. But he never showed, not until after you and Ellie had eaten and the younger girl had gone off to bed. Joel had stormed in, kicked off his boots, and immediately went upstairs, not sparing you a single glance. Obviously, you had followed him, but you have no idea how you ended up here.

“I’m done with this,” Joel says, eyes everywhere except on you. “I’m done with you.”

“What?” You take a step back as if his words had physically pushed you.

“I needed you for her. That’s it,” Joel snapped at you. “Now that it’s over, I don’t see a reason to pretend anymore. Understand?”

You felt as if the air had been sucked out of you, as if Joel had kicked you right in the stomach. You thought you finally had a grasp on Joel, that you could finally read how he was feeling. But as you stared at him from across the room, he felt more like a stranger than the man you fell in love with.

You wanted to scream, to cry, to plead with him to not do this. To not leave you like everyone else did. But you didn’t – you couldn’t. Before you could even process what was happening, you were nodding.

“Okay,” you breathed, nodding your head. You felt the tears burning behind your eyes, begging to be released, but you refused to crack in front of him. Refused to let him see how much his words had made your heart ache. “If that’s how you feel, then okay.”

So, you left. Out of his bedroom and down the hall, passing Ellie’s door where you knew she was inevitably listening to the fight. Down the stairs and out the front door, letting it swing closed behind you. Your feet carried you down the dark street until you couldn’t go any further. The tears burned behind your eyes, a sob escaping you as you stumbled into the stables, barely making it to one of the hay bales before collapsing in on yourself.

You didn’t understand what happened, what had changed since you got back from Salt Lake City. Since the three of you tried to integrate into the community. Since Ellie started at school. Since you and Joel started to patrol and help wherever you could in Jackson.

Did you do something that upset Joel? That made him rethink whatever it was between the two of you? The two of you weren’t officially together but your relationship wasn’t nothing. At least, you didn’t think you were nothing.

Clearly, you were wrong. What you thought was a relationship was actually just a means to get by, a way to pass time for Joel. You get it, you really try to. The road was long, it was tough, and it was lonely. The three of you had seen, and done, unthinkable things to get Ellie to the Fireflies. Obviously, that didn’t go as planned, landing the three of you back in Jackson. Where it felt impossible to return to some semblance of normalcy. So, how could you blame him for using you as an escape?

You just wish he would’ve told you from the beginning what it actually was.

It was morning by the time you dragged yourself out of the stables. Thanking whatever higher power there was that you didn’t have morning patrol, you made your way to Tommy and Maria’s. If Joel didn’t want to pretend, then neither could you. You couldn’t pretend to be okay with being around him after what had happened, so you decided to avoid him at all costs. But, you couldn’t abandon Ellie, not after everything the young girl had been through. Even if she was more distant after Salt Lake, you couldn’t bring yourself to up and leave her. You wouldn’t.

With a deep breath, your knuckles rapped against Tommy and Maria’s front door. You knew it was early, the sun barely just peeking over the horizon but you couldn’t wait. You and Joel were assigned second patrol, and you’d rather not be subjected to that after last night.

“You look like shit,” Tommy said after answering the door. You knew you did, sleeping on a rectangular stack of hay could only offer so much.

“Good morning to you too,” you force a smile at him. You liked Tommy, you had become close with him and his wife after settling in Jackson but you didn’t want to see the younger Miller brother right now. You knew it wasn’t his fault, but you couldn’t help the deepening pit in your stomach at the sight of him. “Is Maria up yet?”

“She’s out back, hanging laundry on the line,” he answers, eyes scanning over your puffy eyes and pale face. “You okay, bug?”

“M’fine Tommy, thank you” you grimace at the nickname. Joel had gifted you the name when the two of you met and upon arriving in Jackson, Tommy took up to calling you that as well. You make your way to the back of the house where you found Maria, true to Tommy’s word. Sighing, you grab one of the shirts in the basket, joining her at the laundry line.

“Good morning,” Maria muses, a playful smile on her face as she turns to you, wiping her hands on her jeans before resting them on her hips. “What can I do for you?”

“What makes you think I need something?” You can’t help but respond. Maria was the closest thing to a friend you had in Jackson, it was hard not to feel as though you could be yourself around her.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you up and out this early in the morning,” she says, glancing back at the house to see Tommy in the window, watching the women through the glass. He shrugs, answering her silent query. “What’s wrong?”

You sigh heavily, pinching your nose between your fingers after hanging the shirt on the line. “I need you to switch my patrol partner.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Maria asks, voice gentle as if you were a frightened deer.

“No paradise to have troubles in,” you mutter, shaking your head. “I don’t want to talk about it. It didn’t work out, I just need you to switch my partner.”

Maria stared at you, narrowing her eyes as she, like Tommy, surveyed your condition. You knew she saw right through you. Knew there was more to the story than you were letting on to.

“Okay,” she nodded after a minute, looking at the watch on her wrist. “There’s still fifteen minutes before first patrol, go let Alexander know he’s with Miller now. You can patrol with Marcus now.”

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, relief filling you to the thought of not being around Joel. The relief soon left at the mention of your new partner, but you couldn’t be picky here. “Thank you Maria, I won’t let you down.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she replies, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “You better get going if you want to make it.”

“Right,” you say, turning on your heels to start the walk back to the stables, knowing the morning patrol people would be there by now.

Maria watches you leave, only making her way inside once you are out of her sight. As she enters the kitchen, Tommy appears before her with raised eyebrows.

“What was that about?” He asks, passing her a cup of warm tea.

Maria sighs, shaking her head. “I’m not sure, but your dumbass brother might.”

“Joel?” Tommy questions, confused as to what might’ve happened between his brother and the woman he is obviously infatuated with.

“Do you have another brother that I don’t know about?” she raises her eyes at her husband, shaking her head. “She wanted to switch patrol partners, wouldn’t tell me why or what happened.”

“Shit,” Tommy sighs, leaning back against the counter before muttering. “What did you do, Joel?”

“I have no idea,” Maria shrugs before setting her mug in the sink. She pats Tommy’s shoulder before making her way towards the stairs, turning to face her husband before she climbs them. “But have fun letting him know!”

“That was fun,” Marcus smiled at you as the two of you rode your horses through the front gates after patrol. Eyes zeroing in on your hips as they rise and fall with each step of your horse.

You force a smile at him, half listening to him as your eyes dart back and forth in search of Joel. You knew he was due to head on second patrol and the last thing you wanted to do was see him. “It sure was.”

“Alex never looked that pretty when taking down Infected,” Marcus continues, not picking up on your disinterest in him. “Glad there was a change up, I was beginning to get bored of watching him.”

You don’t offer him a response as you continue towards the stables, preoccupied with hoping and praying that Joel and his new partner had already left for patrol. For once, whatever higher power out there was on your side as you find the stables vacant.

“Thank God,” you mutter to yourself, sliding off your horse, Luna, to guide her towards her stall which was thankfully far away from Marcus’. Once you got her in her stall, you began to take off her saddle and get her ready for the night. As you did so, your mind wandered to your new patrol partner.

You weren’t oblivious, you knew what Marcus was doing. It wouldn’t be the first time that he tried to sweet talk you. The man had been adamant to gain your attention since you stepped foot in Jackson after the Firefly incident. Whether it was at the stables, the Tipsy Bison, or at movie night, Marcus tried everything to engage you in a conversation.

Any chance he got, Marcus would try his best to make an impression on you. To ask you out on a date. None of his advances ever made it far, you weren’t interested in the men of Jackson and had made it clear. At least, you thought you did, especially after yesterday’s event at the Tipsy Bison.

While you were waiting for the food, Marcus and his friends were putting the ‘tipsy’ in Tipsy Bison. When drinking, Marcus liked to get a little handsy and his previous rejected advances did not seem to deter him trying again. In good Marcus fashion, he attempted, again, to get you to go out with him. You rejected him, as you had many times before, by sliding his arm off your shoulders before moving to a different part of the bar. Luckily, your food was ready soon after so you didn’t have to endure his stares any longer.

“Penny for your thoughts?” A voice rang out in the stall, causing you to whip around to find the intruder.

Ellie leaned against the opening, arms crossed over her chest as she watched you catch your breath, clearly you had not heard her enter the stables.

“Jesus, Els, you can’t sneak up on people like that,” you breathe, shaking your head at the young girl. You eye the backpack she throws onto the ground before she flops down onto the stool you had brought in earlier. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school right now?”

“It’s boring,” she answers as if it was an acceptable reason. “You gonna tell Joel I’m skipping?”

You stiffen at the mention of his name, glancing at Ellie before answering. “Nope.”

“You want to talk about what happened last night?” She presses, confirming your previous suspicions of her eavesdropping tendencies.

“Nope.” Exiting the stall, you make yourself appear busy to avoid further questioning from the girl.

Ellie follows, picking at the end of her sleeves, shifting from foot to foot as she watches you flit around the stable. You spare a glance at her, knowing that her mind is running a mile a minute as it gears up before speaking.

“You okay, Bellie?” You ask, halting your work.

“You aren’t gonna leave, right?” Ellie asks after a moment, eyes avoiding your face.

You sigh, setting down the pail of food you gathered before walking up to the girl. You place your hands on her shoulders, giving her a gentle shake. “Of course not, I promised you that I would never leave you, remember?”

The girl nods, “I remember.”

“Good,” you smile at her, ruffling up her hair before giving her a gentle push towards the stable doors. “Go back to school before you get us both in trouble.”

After Ellie leaves, you putter around the stables for a few hours before you hear the clopping of horses approaching the stables. Peeking out of the window, you see Joel and his new patrol partner.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You think, immediately running back to Luna’s stall. You frantically grab your things and hightail it out of the back entrance of the stables. Leaning against the back of the barn, you wait until you hear the men enter before making your way back to town. You had no idea how you were going to avoid Joel for the foreseeable future, but there was no way you were ready to face him.

The next few weeks went by similarly. You left the house before the sun rose, before anyone in the house was awake. You would go on patrol, endure several hours of the torture that is Marcus and his antics before returning to the town. You’d wait to watch Joel leave for patrol before going to the house you shared or going into town. Once he was back home, you’d return to the stables where you would spend your evenings, only returning home in the late hours of the night. One day while he was on patrol, you had moved all of your things into the third bedroom that was now your own. It worked, you rarely ran into Joel. When you did, you would turn and go the opposite direction or retreat back to your room.

It worked until it didn’t.

You were at the Tipsy Bison, leaned against the bar with a drink in your hand as you listened to Maria. She had to practically drag you out here after days of begging for you to socialize. To be a part of the community. You partly did it to get her off your back, but as you listened to the conversation around you, you felt happy that she managed to get you to come out. It had been a long time since you stayed in one place for longer than ten minutes without constantly checking over your shoulder.

Maria had been recounting a story about Tommy from early on in their relationship when you felt it. Felt eyes burning into your back. Stares that felt like ice water spilling down your shirt, sending vicious shivers up your spine. It felt uneasy, putting you on edge. The longer it lingered, the more uncomfortable you grew.

Turning to give the establishment a once over, you noticed two things. One, Joel was in the corner with his brother, hands full with glasses of neat whiskey as they conversed with one another. Eyes on Tommy, not on you. And two, your oh so lovely patrol partner making his way over towards your group.

“Maria,” you start, turning to your friend, attempting to say your goodbyes before booking it out of the bar when a rather large and heavy arm is slung around your shoulders.

Marcus steadies himself on your shoulder, the smell of alcohol seeping from his pores as he surveys your group, eyes lingering on you for too long. “Ladies! Looking fantastic tonight!”

“Why thank you, Marcus,” one of the women, Fiona, in your group respond, smirking at the obviously drunk man. She bats her eyelashes at him and you feel sick. “How can we help you?”

“Just wanted to talk to my patrol partner here,” Marcus turns to peer down at you, offering you a smile as he squeezes you to his side. “Tommy told me we are patrolling a new area tomorrow, so I figured the two of us could talk strategy. Maybe over a drink or two.”

You grimace, trying to shrug his arm off your shoulder but he is gripping onto you impeccably tight. “It’s late, Marcus, and I was just about to leave. We can talk about it tomorrow.”

“How about he walks you home?” Maria suggests, raising her eyebrows at you. You throw her a look, hoping she picks up on the obvious disapprovement you have over this idea. But she doesn’t, the other women in the group joining in on the idea. “The two of you can discuss it on the way back.”

“It’s the least you can do,” Fiona nods at you, cutting you off when you go to protest. “You did force him to change partners, you can’t blame the man for wanting to make sure he’s safe tomorrow.”

Sending Fiona a hard glare, you push Marcus’ arm off of your shoulder to slip on your coat. “Fine, let’s go.”

You wave off the group’s goodbyes before beelining for the door. The faster you get out of here, the faster you can get home and away from Marcus. On the way out, you glance at the table that Tommy and Joel were residing at, finding it vacant. At this point, you didn’t care if you would run into Joel at the house. Anything was preferable to spending any more time than necessary with your insufferable patrol partner.

After exiting the building, you start towards home at a quick pace, hoping to shorten the usual ten minute walk into a five minute walk. You don’t feel Marcus at your side, hoping that you lost him in your haste out of the bar. Your thoughts are silenced when you feel his hand wrap around your wrist, yanking you to a halt and into one of the allies in the town square.

“What’s the rush, sweetheart?” Marcus smirks, pulling closer to you as his grip on your wrist tightens.

“Got the kid waiting up for me back home,” you quickly lie, tugging your wrist back in an attempt to free yourself. “QZ schools weren’t the best, she needs help with her homework.”

He chuckles, shaking his head at you before backing you into the brick wall of the alley behind you. “I’m sure her dad can help her with that. We have some things to discuss.”

“It would be best to discuss whatever it is in the morning,” you gulp, pressing closer to the wall to create more space between the two of you. “When we both haven’t been at a bar for the night. With clearer minds.”

“Baby,” Marcus breathes, “My mind has never been more clear.”

He ducks his head, pressing his lips forcefully against yours. His hands move to your hips, pressing himself into you. You desperately try pulling your head back to avoid him, but the brick wall behind you prevents you from moving away. Panicking, you sink your teeth into his lip, biting down until you taste the metallic tang of blood. Your hands move to his chest, pushing him off with all your strength. Marcus stumbles back, hands dabbing at his lip to feel the damage.

“What the actual fuck are you thinking?” You seeth, wiping the taste of him away with the back of your hand. You stare at him for a beat, bewildered, before pushing off the wall to make your escape.

You make it a few steps before Marcus surges forward, arms encircling your waist to pull you off the ground. All attempts of your struggle are thwarted when he throws you onto the pavement, hands wrapping around your throat as he straddles your stomach, your arms pinned to his thighs.

“You disrespectful, little bitch,” he spits, hands tightening at your throat. “Your daddy ever teach you manners as a young girl? Like all girls need to be taught?”

You gasp at the lack of oxygen as you try to squirm your way out of his grasp. Your constant struggle only seems to agitate Marcus more as he pulls you off the ground before slamming you back down. The back of your head bounces off the hard pavement beneath the two of you. All efforts to fight cease as dots begin to swarm your vision.

“You respect men that want to talk to you,” Marcus growls, smirking at your dazed face. His hands continue to tighten around your throat. “You’re lucky to even have my attention.”

Your vision is starting to go dark when his weight is suddenly pulled off of you. Coughing, you roll onto your stomach, attempting to gain your bearings. You hear fighting next to you, propping yourself on your hands and knees to try to see what’s going on.

“So help me god,” Joel practically snarls, one hand gripping Marcus’ collar while the other delivers a nose shattering punch.

“If you ever go near her again, I will kill you.” Punch.

“If you look at her again, I will kill you.” Punch.

“If you even so much as breathe in her direction, I will kill you.” Punch.

“Do I make myself clear?”

You watch from your hands and knees as Joel delivers punch after punch until Marcus is whimpering under him, gasping for air like you were only moments earlier. Once he believes the message has been received, Joel drops his hold on Marcus and backs away, chest heaving.

You must make a noise as he turns to you, eyes quickly scanning your face before his gaze settles on the hand prints adoring your throat. He’s rushing to you before you know it, gentle hands helping raise you to your feet.

“Can you stand, bug?” Joel whispers, softly turning to check the spot where your head had kissed the payment. Today must be your lucky day, no blood appearing on his fingers after he gently ran them through your hair.

“M’fine, Joel,” you rasp, embarrassment pooling in your stomach. While you were thankful that he came by when he did, you couldn’t help but wish it happened to be anyone else.

Joel sighs, running his hand down his face. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I said I’m fine Joel,” you pull yourself out of his gentle grasp, wrapping your arms around your midsection tightly. You take a few cautious steps back, stumbling but steady enough to walk.

“Let me get you home, angel,” Joel steps forward, hands reaching out to help you. “Ellie’s been askin’ bout you.”

Shaking your head, you continue to take tentative steps away from him. “I can take care of myself, Joel. You don’t have to pretend anymore, remember?”

And with that, you turned on your heels and began to make your way back to the house. You knew he was trailing some feet behind you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care at the moment. All you wanted to do was crawl into your bed and forget that the night ever even happened.

“It looks like the bruising should heal in a few weeks,” Rick, Jackson’s one and only doctor, assesses, fingers gently pressing against the prominent hand marks on your neck. “The petechiae should clear up within the next few days.”

You nod, readjusting your collar whenever the doctor leans back to scribble down some notes. In the corner of your eye, you see Tommy and Maria share a glance before whispering, as if you weren’t even in the room.

“Any new loss of consciousness? Confusion? Dizzy spells?” Rick asks, pen pausing on the paper.

“Nope,” voice still scratchy but nowhere near as bad as it was a few days ago. “Can I go back on patrol now?”

With a sigh, Rick sets his clipboard down. “Sweetheart, what you went through was a traumatic event. You need to let yourself have time to recuperate mentally too, not just physically.”

“I take that as a no then,” you deflate when the doctor nods.

After answering the rest of Rick’s questions, you’re finally able to leave the infirmary. It seemed like you were there for hours, so to feel the sun on your face whenever you exited felt like sweet relief.

“Y/N,” Maria starts, guilt practically dripping from her.

“Maria, if you apologize one more time, I think I might implode,” you interrupt her, turning to face her. “You didn’t know, I didn’t tell you what he had been saying on patrol. This isn’t your fault.”

“But –”

“No buts,” groaning, you grab her shoulders, giving her a playful shake. “Some drunk asshole’s actions are not your fault. There was no way you could’ve known what would happen.”

“Darlin’, she’s right,” Tommy intervenes. “It’s no one’s fault but the man that did it.”

You hum in agreement, rolling your eyes at the way Maria practically pouts. “Just don’t give me another shitty patrol partner and we can call it even. Okay?”

Maria nods, pulling you into a tight hug. You gently pat her back, knowing the hug is more for her sake than yours, so you allow yourself to enjoy it, just this once.

You’re about to walk away but Tommy stops you, hand gently on your wrist. “Ellie wanted me to tell you to meet her at your house, said she needed help with somethin’.”

“Little shit skipped school again?” You groan. “What would be so important that we have to do it now instead of after dinner?”

Tommy shrugs, smirk playing on his lips. “You really think I'm privy to how she operates?”

“I wish I was,” you mutter, waving your goodbyes before trudging back to your house.

You were going to have to talk to Joel about this. Ellie skipped at least twice a week and you thought the last discussion you had about it got through to her, but apparently not. You understood why she struggled with it, being one of the only outsiders in a building full of kids that had never been outside the walls of Jackson. People looked at you guys funny, you and Joel got it too. Even in the apocalypse, school was important.

After what seemed like an eternity, you crossed the threshold of your home. “Ellie?” you called.

No response.

“Ellie Bellie?” You called again, hanging your coat on the hooks by the door. You knew Joel was on patrol so you began to wander to find the girl.

After checking the entire upstairs, you began to worry.

“Ellie!” You yelled, thundering down the steps and into the kitchen.

“In the basement!” The girl finally responded.

With a breath of relief, you descended the basement steps and found the girl sorting through boxes, various tools of Joel’s spread around her.

“What did we talk about?” You approach, tugging on her ponytail. “No more skipping school, kid.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she waves you off, pointing to the door behind her. “The water heater is in there, right?”

“How am I supposed to know?” You shrug. “The old man takes care of that stuff.”

Ellie rolls her eyes, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards the door. “Well the stupid fuckin’ thing stopped working and I want Joel to be able to have a hot shower when he gets back from patrol.”

“So call Tommy, Els,” you resist her tugging. “I can’t fix it.”

Pouting, the young girl bats her eyelashes at you, putting on her best puppy dog face. “Please, please, please?”

After a few more seconds of her insistent begging, you cave in. “Fuck, fine. Just stop with the face. Promise you won’t skip school again and I’ll see what I can do?”

“Promise!” Ellie smiles in victory, holding out the worn owner’s manual to you.

You grab the dusty book from her before shouldering the door open, wandering into the room. It’s pitch black and you can’t seem to find the lightswitch.

“Els, where’s the light?” You ask, blinking to try to adjust to the lack of light.

“Don’t be mad, okay?” You hear the girl plead before the lights flicker on and the door slams shut, lock clicking.

A tired looking Joel sits in front of you, one hand handcuffed to the gas line of the water heater. You gape at him, part of you impressed that Ellie was able to get the one up on him.

But then the reality of the situation sets in and you start to bang on the door. “Ellie, open the damn door!”

“You can come out when the two of you work out whatever shit happened,” Ellie’s voice is muffled through the door but her message is loud and clear. A key slides in from under the door. “Unlock him if you want to.”

“Great, just great,” you mutter, forehead resting on the door. “Looks like we’re never going to get out of here.”

You can hear Ellie stomp up the basements and slam the door, off to do god knows what with both of her guardians locked in a room. Turning, you look to see Joel, his eyes watching your movements. You take in his appearance – right hand cuffed to the flimsy gas line of the water heater, left hand resting in his lap, both legs extended in front of him with crossed ankles. Under different circumstances, you would have laughed.

“Would you mind givin’ me that key?” Joel asks, motioning to the key resting on the ground by your feet.

Nodding, you kick the key to him, praising yourself that it slides within reach of him. You watch as he uncuffs himself, rubbing his skin where the cuff adored his wrist. Joel slowly stands, exhaling as he stretches himself up right. Once he’s upright, you take into account his bruised knuckles, undoubtedly from the other night.

The two of you are silent. The tension is palpable – too thick to cut with a knife, maybe even a chainsaw. You watch as Joel awkwardly shifts foot to foot. You can tell that he has a lot on his mind, but you aren’t sure if you want to know what he’s thinking.

You clear your throat, already regretting your next words. “Thank you, by the way.”

Joel nods, staying on his designated side of the small room. “I’d never just let that happen to you, y’know that.”

The awkward silence lasts a few more beats, neither of you know what to say to the other.

“You don’t have to avoid the house and town,” Joel breaks first, clearing his throat. “We can be friends, can’t we?”

“Speak for yourself,” you mutter, turning around to see if the door is actually locked. It is, to your dismay.

“Bug…” Joel starts but the nickname sets you off.

“Can you, like, not call me that?” You snap, whirling around to glare at him. “You lost any and all privilege to that the second you decided to use me for your own personal pleasure. Without regard to how I would feel, may I add?”

Joel scoffs, shaking his head, “I didn’t use you for my ‘own personal pleasure’.”

“Really?” Laughing, you feel insane with how worked up he has got you in one sentence. “Then what exactly did you mean by, and I quote, ‘pretend’.”

Joel opens his mouth to respond, but you cut him off.

“Or what about ‘I’m done with you’?” You step into his space, practically chest to chest. “Because being done with someone doesn’t really leave room for friendship, now does it?”

“That’s not what I meant, y’know that!”

“Do I, Joel? Because it doesn’t feel like it!” You can feel your hands shaking as you shove him back. “You are so hot and cold. You give me fucking whiplash. I can’t stand it! You–”

His lips press against yours, hands settling on your waist to keep you in place. You freeze, the feeling of his mouth moving against yours is a foreign after not feeling it for so long. You feel yourself melting into his arms, your own wrapping around his neck as you kiss him back, lips fusing together as if they were made for each other.

Until you realize what’s happening.

“What’s wrong, bug?” Joel whispers after you throw yourself back, chest heaving.

“You can’t just do that,” your voice shakes and you feel small under his gaze. “You can’t fuck with my feelings like this.”

Joel lets out an aggravated sigh, hands running through his curly locks. “I’m not tryin’ to, sweetheart.”

“Then what are you trying to do, Joel? Because I can’t do the back and forth.” You desperately try to blink away the tears pooling at your eyes. “One minute you want me, the next you don’t. I don’t know what you want from me.”

A tear slips down your cheek.

And all of Joel’s resolve breaks.

“Baby,” he breathes, hands cupping your cheeks as he thumbs away your tears. “I…shit, hold on.”

You wait. You wait as his eyes squeeze closed. As he inhales and exhales deeply. As he shakes his head before looking at you again.

“I love you,” Joel admits. “But I’m no good for you.”

“Joel–”

“Please,” he begs. “I can’t protect you, or Ellie. You saw what happened with the raiders at the university, I almost got the two of you killed because I’m not as young as I once was. I’m not a good man, bug, I’ve done so many bad things that I will never deserve someone like you, no matter what I do now.”

You listen to all of his reasons why he doesn’t think he deserves you. You watch the pain of his past hold him back from ever realizing how much he is worth.

“Is that why you did that?” You ask quietly, hands coming to rest on his chest. “You pushed me away because you think you’re too old for me? Too much of a burden on me?”

Joel nods, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“But, Joel, those are your reasons,” you breathe. “Your thoughts, your opinions. Not mine.”

He shakes his head. “But–”

“But nothing,” you interrupt. “I love you because of all of that. I love everything about you, your past included, Joel. There is nothing that you could do or say that could ever possibly change that. Why do you think I avoided you for weeks?”

“Because you hated me?”

“Because I couldn’t be around you thinking that I loved you when you hated me.” You laugh, leaning up to briefly press your lips against his. “Next time, how about you talk to me before you make all the decisions?”

Nodding, Joel leans forward and slots his lips against yours. You wrap your arms around his neck, locking your hands together. You feel Joel smile against your lips, a feeling you had missed, before pressing yourself as close to him as possible. Your kisses become more feverish, Joel backing you up against the door as his hands run down your sides to your hips. His hands snake around your waist, lowering themselves to your butt, groaning at the way you react to him.

A loud bang on the door startles the two of you apart.

“As much as I love that the two of you figured it out,” Ellie yells through the door. “I don’t want to hear those noises. Ever.”

A giggle escapes your lips as you hide your face in Joel’s neck, a smile spreads across your lips when you feel his arms encompass your waist.

“Are you decent? Can I let you out now?”

“Yes, Ellie.”

“Thank god,” Ellie unlocks and swings the door open. She smiles seeing the two of you wrapped up together. “I was beginning to think you’d never figure it out.”

Joel shakes his head. “Shut up.”

“You mean ‘you’re welcome’,” Ellie teases before escaping up the stairs, pausing at the top. “Just don’t suck each other's faces around me, got it?”

“Yes ma’am,” you salute her goodbye before turning back to Joel, who is pretending to look annoyed at the teen.

“By the way, how did she manage to handcuff you?”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel #the last of us #m writes

2K notes · View notes

hheaven-sentt · 3 months

Text

i'd be home with you

summary: this is where he finds he is safest | leon kennedy x gn!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: yearning, mentions of catholicism, intense softness, all comfort no hurt bb, first time L bomb, past trauma subtext, this one made me blush so there's a warning for that

notes: the wip as promised, posted when i should be in bed because i have class at nine am anyway ily | ao3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Leon pushes through the apartment door, light from the hallway streaming in behind him into the dark living room. He doesn’t reach for the light, just closes the door behind him to remedy his fault. He toes his shoes off next to the door. He spies you asleep on the couch, curled beneath more than a few blankets. He smiles tiredly. His feet really hurt, and there’s nothing he wouldn’t give just to rest beside you. But he only has tonight and the wee hours of the morning.

With a sigh, he trudges over to the couch where you snore. He hates to do it, but he nudges you awake. You groan.

“What time is it?” you ask, voice hoarse. You don’t even open your eyes to see who it is; you already know.

“Just past midnight,” he says. You sigh, stretching your arms out above your head. He watches you carefully, like you’re performing for him. “Come to bed,”

“What time do you have to leave?” you ask, finally opening your eyes to gaze at him. He smiles softly.

“Around six,” he says.

You frown. “Wake me up when you get up to leave. I want to be able to see you go,”

He nods, then extends his hand to pull you free from the cushions on the couch. You silently protest for a moment, murmuring about how comfortable you are, but you eventually give in and let him haul you to your feet. You press a sleepy kiss to his cheek before walking around him toward the bedroom.

He follows you, because he would be stupid not to, and feels his bones loosen beneath his skin. You ooze comfort and simple pleasure. If he could take you with him everywhere, he would. He’s a selfish man when it comes to you; he wants to keep you beside him at all times, keep you hidden away in a place where only he can find you. He stares dreamily at you, watching you shuffle pillows and sheets as you prepare to slip between them for the night. You brush a few stray hairs from your eyes.

He’d gladly be sick for a hundred years if it were the disease you’ve given him. He smiles.

“What are you staring at?” you tease, grinning. He feels like he’s floating.

“Just admiring,” he says simply, softly, lovingly. You laugh and climb into bed. “Sometimes I feel like the luckiest guy in the world,”

You roll your eyes. “Quit being so sappy and come to bed,” you tease, reaching for the bedside lamp. He doesn’t deny you.

With as much speed as he can muster, he pulls his gear off. You watch him, hand hovering near the lamp. He’s clad in a pair of sweatpants in minutes, and finally, he joins you. It’s like coming home, getting into bed with you. It’s soft and gentle, he always knows what to expect. He tends to steal the blanket in the middle of the night and you respond by clinging to his shoulders like a backpack.

He’s staring at you again, he knows he is, but he would be a fool not to. You shut the lamp off finally, and you’re suddenly bathed in the moonlight streaming in through the windows. Your eyes reflect the light. This is where Leon finds he is safest. Beyond you, there is no Umbrella, no Raccoon City, nothing. He can only see you. He can only feel your fingers weaving between his, your lips against his cheek, your muttered words as you sink into the pillows. He never wants to leave, never wants to feel the ache of missing you ever again.

“How long will you be gone this time?” you ask quietly. He stiffens beneath you.

“A few weeks, probably,” he says. You sigh heavily. “But I’ll come home,”

“You better,” you say. He can feel your lips curl up into a small smile from where you rest against his bicep. It sends a shiver through him. “Who would keep me warm at night?”

He reaches over to pull you in closer, to stake some sort of claim upon you. “Nobody, I would hope,”

You laugh. “No one could replace you. You’re one of a kind,”

“You just like how I cook your eggs,” he mutters, but he’s smiling. He’s holding you steady against him, perfectly tucked into his side where you belong. At this moment, it feels like this will last forever, like morning will never come and he will never board a plane.

“That certainly is a plus,” you tease. He hums.

You’re asleep within minutes. He knows he will follow soon after, but he wants to hold onto the moment for a little bit longer. In this room, the world doesn’t exist. It’s just you and him. He wants it to be that way forever.

When he wakes, the sun is barely peeking over the horizon. He rolls out of your arms, tucking the duvet back into your side to keep you snug. His gear rolls back onto his body with little protest. The ache returns. Gently, he nudges you awake.

“Already?” you whisper. He fights a frown. “Don’t get lost out there,”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says.

You pull him in for a sleepy kiss, and that’s how he has to leave you. You turn onto your other side, facing the window where the birds are beginning to sing. He smooths a hand over your head before he turns out of the room. He leaves a little piece of his heart behind when he closes the front door behind him.

…

It’s week two in some European city he can’t pronounce, and Leon is full of aching. His muscles feel heavy, his head constantly hurts, and he wants nothing more than to sit in your presence for a few minutes. A few minutes is all he needs.

He remembers how his mother would drag him to church on Sundays, half the service memorized and etched into her heart. Leon was always rather bored with it, often counting how many people were in the room and then imagining how many it would take stacked on top of each other to lift him to the ceiling of the church. The only part of service he liked was communion–his midday snack, if you will. More than anything, he remembers the way the pews felt beneath him, sturdy and hard against his legs as he desperately tried to stay still for the service lest his mother send him another warning glance. It’s how he feels now, sitting in the helicopter on his way home to you. He itches to move, to have the flight conclude so he may rush home to you. But Hunnigan is throwing looks in his direction, looks that tell him that even when he touches down, he won’t be home until at least tomorrow.

A sigh escapes him. It’s been much too long since he’s missed someone, and the fact that he misses you like this, right here and now, is almost too much for him to bear. What are you doing? What time is it there? Have you showered and gone to bed? Are you making dinner? He wants nothing more than to lean against the counter and watch you cook, or sit on the bathroom counter while you shower because he can’t bear to be away from you for long, or ask you questions about the movie you’re watching because he didn’t see the beginning of it.

His longing for you is a foreign concept. He doesn’t understand what you do to him to make him think in terms of you. He passes his time planning the next time he’ll get to see you, often creating grandiose fantasies in his mind about where you’ll go and what you’ll do. Sometimes, he takes you away to a remote island and you live in paradise for the rest of time. Other times, he has a normal life with a normal job, and he can give you life you deserve; a house on a quiet street in a sleepy town, maybe a couple kids, family dinners, and bedtime stories. Sometimes, the thought makes him sick, the fact that he can’t give you a normal life. But he pushes it away with the memories of the way you look at him, and that quiets him for a while.

Finally, after hours of yearning and waiting, he’s standing outside of your door. Even after spending his formative years surrounded by God and altars and psalms, he is not sure Heaven exists. But if it does, it could not compare to the interior of your apartment. His key gets stuck in the lock when he tries to open the door, excitement coursing through him. You come to his aide, like always.

He’s home earlier than he expected, honestly. It’s just past nine in the evening. You’re clad in an old pair of sweatpants and a shirt you stole from him. The sight of you makes him melt. He can barely allow himself to get his coat off before he’s pulling you into him, breathing you in like he’s been lost for air. You laugh into his chest, returning his embrace, and he feels lighter than he has in a long time.

“Missed you,” he mumbles into your hair. It makes you laugh again. He wishes he could play the sound back from memory.

“Missed you, too,” you say. “There’s some lasagna left on the counter if you want it. I don’t know how warm it is, though,”

He grins widely, pulling away from you for a half a second just so he can pull you back in for a kiss. It’s long and languid, easy and careful. It’s warm. It’s loving. When you break, you’re blushing, staring at him like he’s acting strange.

“You alright?” you ask, searching his eyes for anything that might be out of place. He just grins again.

“More than,” he says. You laugh again. “Lasagna sounds amazing,”

You chat to him about your last couple of weeks while he struggles to dig the lasagna out of the pan and onto a plate. Apparently, the girl at work that you hate had gotten fired. Leon couldn’t remember her name if he had a gun to his head. But you seem excited that she’s gone, and so he is too. He microwaves his lasagna for too long and burns his hand on the plate when he goes to take it out. But you’re quick to soothe. As the hiss of pain leaves his lips, you’re dragging him to the sink to run cool water over his hand. You chastise him for touching the plate, telling him he needs to be more careful.

“I love you,” he says. You freeze in place, halting your fretting over him. Your eyes pull to his in an instant, searching to see if he’s telling the truth. He is.

“Do you mean that?” you ask. His lips pull into a thin line, fear beginning to creep up in a flesh on his neck. His mom always told him that was his biggest tell.

“I do,” he promises. Your apprehension eases away from your features. The water is still running, it’s the only sound between you two. You take a deep breath.

“I love you,” you return, smiling softly.

All the years spent going to church prepared him to recognize divinity when it was presented to him, and he sees it finally. It appears to him in the form of you and your laughter, your caring nature and your freckled skin, your birthmark and your crooked tooth. He kisses you again, the love fuel to his movements. You laugh against his lips, peeling his soggy hand away from your cheek. When he pulls away, your hair is smeared against your face from where he’s wet it, but you’re laughing.

Maybe he can’t give you the future you deserve, at least not yet, but he can give you now. He can give you himself, and for right now, that is enough for you both.

#m writes #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #my fics #x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil fanfic #fanfic #fluff #re fluff

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