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tremendum · 10 months

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Mr. Miller's Show

[not my gif] pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, some use of she/her, use of the words girl/woman) rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.) word count: 7.3k (back to regularly scheduled programming) requested: yes thank you all for all the patience srsly <3 summary: “'like how sweet you've been t'me, sugar," he mutters gently, head tilting, "why y'gonna go and fuck all that up now?'" warnings: gendered words (girl, woman, etc) allusions to PTSD, porn with feelings, guys theyre like getting healthier, SMUT (PiV unprotected), oral (M receiving), deepthroating, rough sex, face-fucking, shower smut, counter smut, reader is a tease, masturbation (f), marijuana use as always lol, brief voyeurism, canon-typical violence, age gap (undefined but mentioned), ass play (spitting, fingering, only a bit sorryyyy), mirror sex again bc im a whore, reader has hair long enough to grab, hair pulling, lots of choking, spit kink, light slapping (f receiving, consensual), dirty talk, praise kink but also degradation, use of words like slut, brat tamer!joel, overstimulation, MEAN!JOEL YALL, but he has feelings so he’s also kinda soft!dom in this again, once again sooo unedited that it hurts. notes: finally finally after over a month im back!! hope you enjoy this chapter, ive been having rough writers block with this story so any suggestions and requests are very welcomed!!! thanks for all the love and as always, comments & reblogs w tags are motivation and help out so much!!! love u all <3 also for the taglist, it's too big now and i may consider stopping my taglist, just letting everyone know!!! ill lyk if i do ofc but im reblogging with the list this time.

[this is part six of the Mr Miller series. read previous part sympathy for the devil. main masterlist here. ]

★

"you're wearing earrings."

Joel's voice cuts through the serene chill in the air, shocking you enough to have your head turning away from where you stare ahead - you crane your neck too much, but you can just see the dusted gray and dark of his curls behind you as your brows raise.

it takes you a second to understand the sentence he's just uttered to you out of nowhere- but you blink to life, clearing your throat as the dead trees pass you by.

"oh. yeah, it's... they're new. didn't really wear stuff like that until..." you shrug, trailing off as you stare forward yet again. your heart thumps as his chest rumbles against your back - jesus, he's so close to you. it's been weeks since he's been this close, even if this is just work.

your body wants what it wants, you suppose.

your lips purse, lost in the press of his thick body behind you.

"-till?"

your lip twitches in a smile for a split moment; he's waiting for you to finish your sentence. as if he cares.

Joel...

he's been so normal recently. or as normal as you could ever imagine Joel Miller to be; full sentence-conversations full of questions, full sentences, and even an occasional joke or dry line littered in with his glares and eye-rolls. he's even taught you and ellie to woodwork, nodded in hello when you picked up Ellie on your way into town - hell, he'd actually gotten a drink with you after patrol a few days ago and held eye contact for a whole thirty minutes.

a fucking miracle.

and even, on rare occasions, you are rewarded with that mind-splitting, earth-shattering smile - a very rare but rewarding sight. the kind that shocks a room, silences you and Ellie both, lights the sun and makes the birds sing. makes your stomach flutter.

so perhaps things have changed.

it makes you almost laugh to yourself, recalling that day so many moons ago when you had walked into the Bison and first stared into those stony eyes; how big his calloused hands were, the way his lip lifted in distaste at your crass words.

the sway of the horse makes your hips move gently; your ass is starting to feel sore at the constant motion and as you rock forward with the decline of the hill, you feel Joel's body slide slightly as though he tries against everything to press fully against you. even though you wish he would.

heat paints your face as you feel his breath on your neck, waiting patiently for you to finish your sentence.

your sharp breath exhales as you realize you've hesitated at his questioning, a bit too long - you smile sheepishly, shrugging. "-sorry, didn't..." you clear your throat, "couldn't remember the last time I wore earrings. not that it matters, but I just..." you thumb the makeshift earring back, grinning to the mane of the horse as he trudges you and Joel both along.

"-it feels nice. makes me feel like myself." you finish, shrugging awkwardly.

for all of the steps Joel has taken in the last few weeks to change, there are some things you still have a hard time with.

talking about yourselves and opening up is a very large, unmovable hurdle that you and him are still clearly trying to pull yourselves over. it's quiet for a second as your words seep into the dead surroundings, less than an hour from town.

"look nice." he grunts quietly, his arms pressing slightly from where he straddles the saddle behind your frame.

your eyes widen at the seemingly random compliment, face flooding with flattery and embarrassment. your grin betrays you, but you don't dare stutter out a broken thank you for fear that you will sound like a croaking frog; instead, you purse your lips over the giddy grin that spreads over your cheeks and hope that as he stares at the profile of your face, he can see the flattery written across your features.

"Ellie has a matching pair." you say instead, sparing a quick glance back at Joel. his brows raise, jaw ticking as he takes in the information - your voices both echo at the same time as you speak over each other suddenly:

"she doesn't have her ears pierced." "in case she ever gets them pierced."

you let out a short huff of laughter, nodding sheepishly at having accidentally interrupted each other; Joel shakes his head with a ghost of a smile.

"got it." he nods, "s'real nice of you." he nods, "making a pair for her, too."

his chest is right on you - broad, warm through all the layers, and smelling of pine, whiskey, sage. amber. it's intoxicating as his drawl rumbles in the back of your ear - you silently thank Tommy or whoever the hell it was who ordered half the horses to rest after a bout of sickness spread through the stable; sharing a horse has never once before today seemed like a good idea.

but the good idea sours quickly when you kick speed slightly, the horse leaping over a small creek as your hips shift back into Joel's and your ass presses into him.

your mouth dries as you shakily exhale; he's so close to you - smells so good. your hands grip the reigns tighter and you nearly jump when a large, calloused hand falls onto your hips to steady you after the change in pace.

your mind travels back to that morning after you'd stayed with Joel in his own bed - how gentle his hands had been as he'd guided you towards your own house under the early morning sunrise; your eyes bleary with sleep but his smile still cracking bashfully when you'd kissed his cheek, muttering about how maybe Ellie'd missed your boots by the front door when she'd come home.

she and Joel certainly haven't said anything you if she did notice, anyways.

you clear your throat, ignoring the searing desire that spirals from where his hand touches your clothed hip; you shrug, "she said she liked mine, so I figured we could match."

he hums lowly at your word, his nose brushing slightly over the crown of your head. shivers roll over your shoulders as you swallow, retreating into the silence that you've lived in for the last few weeks since the two of you were put back on patrol.

but you stiffen when a hand runs down your side, over the jagged stitching of your jacket, and you suck in a sharp inhale. his other hand slides forward, hooking gently around your hip, fingers splaying over the very top of your thigh and your throat dries up; a faint desire awakened and soon screaming at you. you squirm under his touch.

Joel's hips adjust behind you gently in the next second, your eyes fluttering shut as you imagine him pulling you into him, his hard cock sliding between the round globes of your ass and through your dripping folds, his hands greedy and hungry; his words sharp, teasing. his touch, sweet. intoxicating-

your eyes open again and your heart skips a beat, his knees hitting the outside of your thighs.

christ. your whole body tingles as you shift slightly, rotating your hips as the buck of the horse's cant tilts you further away from the heat of his broad chest. no, you can't stand his teasing - intentional or not, Joel is making you nearly melt in desire.

jesus.

you're barely pulling the horse to the side of the path when, with barely a crane of his neck, Joel mutters, "the hell are y'doin?"

you suddenly pull the reins and mutter woah, slipping yourself off of the horse and onto the hard ground with a burning face, your lungs screaming for air as Joel protests.

"what-" he grunts as he pulls himself down from the stirrups, face etched with irritation and concern at your sudden evacuation, "is there an issue?"

you can hear the irritation in his voice and you sigh, shaking your head - your heart's thundering, face hot and surely laced with poorly-hid embarrassment. god, what the fuck is wrong with you? there's barely forty minutes back to Jackson, why couldn't you just suck it up for a few more torturous minutes until you could return home to your trusty drawer and hot shower?

"no." you snap, "no problem, Joel." your heart is thundering with surprise at his concern, eyes glaring daggers at him before shooting down towards the heat that nearly blisters on your forearm; his hand, warm and gentle, asking silently if you're okay. your eyes soften before you can school your expression - he reads you, as always, like his favorite novel.

his hand falls away gently, grazing your finger tips like the gentlest breeze on your face and it still surprises you.

"alright," he says softly, eyes searching your flustered appearance. "can we get back on the horse, then?" he asks - his voice is surprisingly patient, though his eyes are wary. irritated, but concerned.

you clear your throat, unable to contain yourself much longer. "we could- take a break."

his brows raise, tilting his head, "a break? we're nearly back. s'almost nightfall."

you shift your weight, avoiding the way his corded arms cross over each other, his frame towering over yours as you dully throb in arousal.

"you're-" you squeak, shaking your head, "you're fucking crowding me, and I need- fuck-" you groan, "just- just fuck off for a second, Joel." you snap, bursting in frustration, unsure how to just admit you are being driven fucking crazy with lust by his presence.

his head tilts, "fuck off?" his eyes are darker every second you stand, facing each other- "the hell's gotten into you?" he sounds offended, and your heart flips as you feel bad - you're trying, you're trying so hard to be normal around him, as he is with you - so one touch, one innocent adjustment of his hips and now you're freaking out on him again?

you need to get a grip, or at least be honest.

your face burns as his stern gaze rolls over each curve of your body; "Joel, you're driving me fucking crazy." you snap, glaring at him.

he looks shocked, hands flying out, "I barely said anythin' this whole goddamn day, how the hell am I still fucking this up?" he snaps back, irritated - his eyes incredulous as he stares down at you.

flames lick up your sides as you grind your teeth - his hair looks much more wavy with his curls today, and the green of his jacket it making the golden on his skin nearly glow; you nearly growl as you jump towards him. he's too much. too fucking much.

your hands lock on his shoulders, tugging yourself up towards his face as your lips fall against his.

the kiss is a shock to you both.

you're not sure what really compelled you to do it - the stubble over his sharp jaw, his hair, the way his thighs pressed against the outsides of yours just minutes ago, the way he pressed on about the earrings - whatever, it doesn't matter, because he's kissing you back and you're melting like butter over a campfire.

his lips press hard back against yours through his shocked inhale, surging against you in a dizzying haze of Joel.

but the kiss is seared away from your lips when Joel suddenly shoots his thick hand out, rising to grip hard at your throat, shoving you backwards.

it's more shocking than the sudden kiss - the speed in which he pulls back and pushes you hard backwards by his warm grip, causing flutters of arousal to course through your stomach.

you stumble in shock but he keeps his hold on you, passionate as he movers the two of you back. you're torn away from his warmth as he presses you with one hand on the small of your back and the other on the beating pulse of your throat - right against a tree, nudging you as he tilts his head down to your height once more.

he's back on you in no less than a split second; his heat swirling around the cold air, teeth nipping at your lip when you take a moment longer than he'd like to open your lips to his tongue. he groans against you, a warm and deep thing that you feel in your own chest as your hand slides up to his hair, tugging at the base of his neck.

the fingers around your throat flex and tighten in reaction to your own grip and the moan that rips from your throat sends his hips in a slow thrust against yours.

you've been desperate for his touch for fucking days - he's been walking on eggshells even after you'd spent the night with him a few weeks ago. he'd barely touched you, taking his time trying to make up for all the lost time you'd spent trying to rip each other's heads off instead of your clothes.

and sure, you don't know who you are with him still - nothing defined, and a lot of things still unspoken - but for the first time since this whole mess started, that doesn't bother you. there's not much anger, nor jealousy - just... Joel. and you.

it's not bad.

his lips leave yours as he breathes against your lips, "like how sweet you've been t'me, sugar," he mutters gently, head tilting, "why y'gonna go and fuck all that up now?"

his hand slips from your back lower, tugging you against his semi-hard cock as his fingers squeeze your ass. his hand lies just below your jugular, thumb soothing over your cold skin as his dark eyes glint with desire. you feel a rush of arousal pool between your legs as you raise your brows.

"-you need to stop fucking touching me like that when we're riding, Miller." you growl against his lips, staring back at him. you lean slightly to catch his lips with yours once again but he pulls back with a strong hand against your neck to stop you - teasing.

he tuts, "you need to learn how to use your words, sweetheart." he growls against you, teeth catching on your bottom lip.

you whimper at the sharp sting, chasing him as if you could steal a kiss. he tilts his head just out of reach, his hand pressing against you until your breath comes out slightly ragged; your pussy flutters as he squeezes, knee sliding against your clothed core.

"if you want it, ask for it, baby." he all but demands, hands rough against you, "can't just throw a fit every time you're aching for my cock, or else you'll be whinin' all goddamn day. how am I supposed to know-"

but there's a snap of a twig somewhere behind you and you both spring apart, straight as boards, hackles raised.

it's almost like deja-vu as you're both thrown from your stupor - ripping away, your voices cease as your hand flies to your hunting knife - in your peripheral, you see that Joel's slung around his rifle so quick you're almost impressed as you both stare to your left.

christ - just the fucking horse, tied to the tree. stepped on a twig.

you let out a shaky breath, hand falling onto Joel's chest as you almost wheeze out a relieved laugh. but your hand feels it, suddenly - you notice how stiff Joel is, even after you've both realized there's no threats.

his heart, thundering in his chest wildly. like a caged animal surrounded by a pack of wild, ravenous wolves; Joel's heart tries to scramble right out of his chest and onto the dead ground.

that feeling - the one that creeps around at night when you wake up with memories of that cabin, of those raiders - of your past, visions of Joel, surrounded by red. that feeling that creeps up, squeezing at your throat and banging on your chest.

he's feeling it, too.

it's not from arousal, though you can see enough of that in his eyes, in the way his lips part and ragged breaths puff into the air - no, not arousal.

fear.

your heart hammers similarly, you suddenly notice. your hand shakes as it hovers near your knife; his hands grip the rifle so tight the blood may burst forth from the roughened skin any second.

"hey," you whisper, suddenly worried to speak above any quiet noise. his eyes are sharp and his jaw clenched as he looks back at you, wild and alarmed.

as if he were ready to fight for his life and yours.

"let's go home," you whisper, thumb running over the shoulder of his jacket, muscles strained and still below the layers.

he snaps out of it, eyes falling to rake over you as if assuring that you're still in front of him in one piece. his hand finds yours on his chest, sliding it off - not unkindly; his hand squeezes yours before boosting you up onto the double saddle silently.

Joel insists on walking you back to your house; he's brooding, as normal, as you both trudge back from turning in your patrol log and tracking the mud from the stable through the quiet streets.

you don't speak about what happened in the woods - the kiss, nor the twig snapping, but you ache and as you walk, every brush of the backs of your hands send shooting sparks up your arm.

"damn it," he grunts under his breath as you lead him up your driveway. you lift a brow at him, silent prompt to explain his expletive.

he shakes his head, "s'nothin'. forgot Ellie said the water heater ain't workin', said she was stayin' with her friend Dina till I fix it. cold shower for me tonight."

you grimace; the air nips at your cheeks, you can't imagine a cold shower in this weather. you shrug, "use mine." you suggest, tilting your head. "no point in turning into an icicle, Miller, you're cold enough as is." you tease, sending him a small wink.

something in you wonders if the shower really is broken, or if he just can't bring himself to ask; not that you can blame him. you can't bring yourself to ask, either.

your heart flutters when Joel rolls his eyes but still trudges after you, through the entrance of your home. his eyes look just as tired as you feel but there's a spark to them, one that coaxes more warmth between your thighs.

you see his eyes catch on the partially-smoked joint put out on the ashtray on your kitchen table as you slide past it; you have a mind to grab it before you make your way up the stairs, pretending not to feel too hot when you feel Joel's eyes graze over the sway of your hips.

he showers first, you insist.

while he does so, you strip out of your clothes and into a more comfortable sleeping shirt and shorts. you sit, smoking lazily on the joint, savoring the sharp herbal taste as it flows into your blood and trying to ignore the throbbing desire when the sound of the shower shuts off.

Joel's respectful when he leaves your bathroom, pants on and shirt tugged over his chest, speckled with dots of moisture. his hair is much darker and more curled just after a shower; you're transfixed as you stand in front of him, joint smoldering between your lips, an exhale of smoke swirling lazily from your nostrils.

"may I?" he asks suddenly, causing you to nod, pulling the joint out from your lips and noting how his own dark eyes follow it like a horse to a carrot; you smirk, tutting. "and to think, all this time you've been judging me for it?" you shake your head. "shame on you."

his jaw ticks and you just smirk, shaking your head as you hold the joint up to his lips boldly. "you're a bad influence on me, aren't you, Mr. Miller?" you ask, voice sultry as you peer up at him through your lashes. his eyes flick to yours as he inhales, your fingers ghosting over his plush lips. the ones you kissed not an hour earlier.

the air is thick in your room, steam from the hot water creeping through as Joel inhales the weed, ember lighting up your eyes in his. you leave the joint between his parted lips, opting to strip down as you walk towards the shower, hoping Joel had the mind to watch as you go.

your heart thuds in arousal and excitement when you hear his sharp exhale, still refusing to turn around as you leave the door slightly open once again. you and your innocent habit of leaving the bathroom door open when you shower.

you're relieved there's some fog over the glass door of the shower, but you take your time cleansing your hair, running soap over your face and then slowly, slowly lathering up your skin.

you can feel him watch the entire time.

his eyes are like a hawk's; you can see his shadow through the light of the bathroom, the ember of your joint glowing occasionally as your hands run over the wet planes of your skin.

your shaky fingers cascade down, over the skin of your stomach, lower until they just barely graze where you ache. it's like he's been waiting for you to finally start to touch yourself; just as your fingers find your slit, the amber of the joint is tamped, ashed on the windowsill.

you hum lowly as your fingers swirl through your velvet folds, so wet you're dripping onto your upper thighs as your head thumps against the wall.

"Joel," you let yourself whimper, eyes fluttering shut before opening again languidly.

Joel's footsteps are gentle as he slowly strides up to you; he lasted, admittedly, longer than you through this torturous game. through the glass, you see his tall frame and your legs quiver with desire - your aching cunt throbs as you move your hand over yourself, rinsing off the rest of the suds from your clean body as your fingers tease your bundle of nerves. your hips jolt; a choked moan from you as you slide the glass open slightly, cocking your head - "it's a shame you already showered," you mutter, fingers not ceasing as Joel's eyes rake over your naked for ravenously.

he leans on the doorframe to the bathroom, eyes stern as he takes in your silhouette through the fogged glass, slowly rolling over the curves of your body to meet your eyes with flames alit in his own.

"-it'd be nice to have some help." you shrug, gesturing to the bar of soap in your spare hand, eyes swimming with desire as your other hand continues the slow, torturous movements on your aching clit.

your eyes catch on his crotch; through the jeans, his cock is hard and straining already as if being stirred by just the sight of you, naked and whimpering for him in your shower.

"I know you've always liked a show, though, haven't you?" you tease, lifting a brow as you recall the night Joel'd first seen you shower.

his jaw ticks at your words but it's like something in his snaps; he wastes little time ripping his shirt off, his patience clearly gone as you bite your lip, stepping back for him as his jeans finally slide off.

his glowing, naked form crowds into your own as he slides into the shower with you. his eyes are sharp as his hand takes the soap from you; yet instead of running it over your skin like you'd hoped he would, he's tossing it to the side until it hits the wall of the shower and splinters into two.

you gasp slightly as his hand grips your neck, tugging you close. his cock is hard, tip glistening with beads of precum already as he presses to your lower stomach, his body glued to yours; his nose slides along the plane of your collarbone gently, the shower water pelting rolling off your meshed bodies like some sort of sick baptism.

"you smell clean, darlin'," he mutters against your kin, one hand sliding up to your scalp, threading through your hair. his tongue peeks out to lick a stripe up your throat. "taste clean, too-"

his hand tightens suddenly, tugging your hair until your head snaps up to him - his eyes are dark, face full of desire. "so why're you pretending you need my help?"

the condescension in his voice is intoxicating - your legs weaken, hands sliding up onto his hot skin under the water that cascades over him.

your throat dries as you swallow, eyes wide as a rush of arousal threatens to drip down onto your bare thighs.

his head tilts, "s'because you want to put on a show, 's that it?" he asks, voice condescendingly sweet as he once again tightens his grip. you whimper at the sweet feeling, nodding slightly.

he smiles against your neck before pulling away, "fine. you can give me a show. get on your knees." he hums, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. your head feels dizzy at the words he says and the sweetness of his kiss; the most delicious juxtaposition.

"a show." he chuckles to himself, shaking his head darkly. "gonna make you a goddamn star."

christ. your cunt squeezes around nothing, aching for him as his hands slide down to your shoulders. you nearly moan as he smirks, water cascading down his broad chest as he pushes you down; you sink to your knees, your wide eyes on his own as you move until you're close to his aching cock.

he stands, towering above you as the shower head sprays directly onto his back; water runs off the broad expanse of his chest and you follow the droplets as they smooth over his stomach, down over the sprinkling of hair that trails to the base of his dick. you swallow, heart thundering impatiently as you sit on your haunches, waiting anxiously for him to tell you what to do.

his brows raise, though, flush high on his cheeks from heat - or arousal - as he hums, "well?"

you blink at him in surprise as he shakes his head down at you, his own hand falling to pump his long cock in languid strokes, the skin so close to you that you can almost feel the heat. if you were to lean out, just a bit, to taste-

"christ, darlin' do I gotta tell you how to do everything?" he grunts, other hand cupping the back of your head, carding through your wet strands of hair as he tuts, "you were practically beggin' f'me earlier, now you're suddenly shy?"

your face blooms in heat, "no, sir, I just-" at your words, his eyes fall back and a groan echoes through your bathroom, "-just suck my cock, darlin' c'mon."

his impatience, desperation sends shivers down your spine and your mouth opens eagerly, tongue flattening as he slaps your tongue gently once, twice-

you're always surprised by the size of Joel - each time, it catches you off guard; the head of his cock breaches your lips and his pre-cum smears over your tongue; the taste of him has you keening forward, eager to feel him in you, filling you up.

"there you go, 's much better." he grunts, muttering as one hand slides around to hold your jaw. your eyes flutter up through your lashes and the falling shower water to stare at him, how big he is towering above you. his cock pushes into your warm mouth and you try your best to breathe through your nose, tongue sliding up the vein which reaches up towards his tip. his groan spurs you on and you gently start to bob your head, spit gathering at the sides of your mouth slowly as your knees press against the wet porcelain.

"you feel better like this, baby?" he mutters, your stomach tingling at his words. you can't nod - can't even make a noise as his hips slowly buck into you; you gag slightly and moan around his cock as it pushes to the back of your throat.

"fuck-" he grunts, one hand leaning forward to place against the wet shower tiles; he's crowding you, now, pressing you into the back of the shower as his body takes the brunt of the water and takes and takes from you.

anything Joel wants, he can fucking have it.

"that's it, sweetheart-" he grunts, "fuckin'- take me."

his hands grip yours, pulling them onto his thighs, muttering gently that if it's too much, you can slap his thigh; you nod, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes as you keen towards him again, hungry to feel him in your throat again.

your nails dig crescents into the meat of his thighs as he pushes your head right against the wall, fucking into your throat as his head tilts back. "tha's- right, look at you." he grunts, his lips parted as groans fall from his lip. the steam rises like tendrils from hell as you take Joel's length in your mouth, barely able to breathe in the most delicious way as he uses you. your spit trails over your chin and onto your bare chest as you stare up at him. one hand soothes over your forehead, wiping wet strands of hair plastered to your forehead, "you're a fuckin' star, baby."

you heat at his words, stomach swirling as you shift uncomfortably, cunt puffy and aching for relief.

your fingers grip onto him as he takes you in the shower, fucking your throat until you're dripping and aching and a writhing mess, his moans echoing around the empty home.

"water's cold." he grunts, pulling his cock from your lips; you, weakly, chase the heat of him as he leaves your mouth, gasping for air and coughing slightly.

he shuts off the water, suddenly, and you swallow as he turns back to you, eyes significantly softer than they'd just been; "somethin' wrong?" he teases, a dark smirk on his face as his eyes flicker to where your thighs press together to soothe the ache.

you grit your teeth, shaking your head, "jus' want you to touch me, sir." you mutter, face burning at the way Joel never ceases to reduce you to a whimpering mess.

he smiles one of those brilliant, radiant smiles.

"that's all you had to say, darlin'." he shrugs, "told you, if you just learn to ask for it nicely, I'll give it to you."

you shiver as you nod, taking his hand as he pulls you up off your sore knees, wrapping a towel around your form gently. he's so- commanding, yet still somehow keeping his kindness that often hides deep beneath his layers.

you can't tear your eyes away, though - even as Joel starts to walk towards your open bedroom - your hand stops him on his naked shoulder. "will you please fuck me?" you ask, voice stronger than you'd expected it to be.

his eyes flicker with something as he tilts his head, "right here?" he lifts a brow as his hand snaked over your neck to pull you flush against him once again. "y'gonna beg me to fuck you against the sink because you're too desperate for my cock to walk to the bed?" he whispers it into the shell of your ear; a shiver as you whine, eyes blinking up at him, "been waiting all day, Joel, stop fucking teasing me."

you notice your mistake too late; his jaw tenses as he bites down at the junction of your neck - you let out a sharp, whining moan as his teeth mark a love bite bright and center on your skin. "fuck- fuck, s-sorry, sir." you groan, eyes clenching shut in pleasure as his hands push you into the counter.

"bet you're fuckin' sorry." he mutters lowly as he pulls away from you, flipping you quick to bend you over the vanity of the sink. you gasp as the cool wet porcelain hits your breasts, your nipples hard and sensitive as a sharp smack lands on your ass.

"christ," he groans as you bend over, puffy lips soaked and glistening for him, "look at this pretty pussy."

you move your hips slightly and his hands grip onto your waist - "quit that." he snaps, hands resuming their exploring. he grazes over the backs of your thighs, up the expanse of your spine.

over your ass, groping and slapping, relishing in your small moans and sharp gasps. "don't move." he orders.

you sigh, head falling onto the sink as you nearly whimper - you're aching, throbbing as Joel teases you - "Joel," you whimper quietly, voice whiny and small.

"what's wrong, y'tired of being teased?" he asks, voice dripping with sadistic pleasure. your cheeks are hot as you groan, "please, need to feel you inside of me-"

he hums, smacking the flesh of your ass, "'f I don't warm you up you'll be sore, baby-" he tuts, "y'know I gotta get you ready."

"I don't care, I can take it- I like it, just-" you stutter, face heated as you nearly scream in frustration, unable to voice how badly you just want him inside of you.

he likes that - a thumb sliding over your cunt to spread your lips, exposing your pussy and ass to him as he hums. "too fuckin' eager, have to have my cock right now, 's that right?" he shakes his head with a dark smirk, hand teasing over your swollen lips as he nods, "yeah, s'alright, I'll give it to you whenever you ask."

"thank you," you wheeze, letting out a shaky sigh when Joel leans down, spitting directly onto your asshole, thumb sliding over the tight ring as he hums, "so desperate for me, couldn't even wait 'till we get back to town, could you? had to try an' fuck me right there in the woods." he doesn't wait for you to respond as he spits down again, this time the slick spit sliding down onto your seeping cunt. his hand leaves, replacing with the thick, teasing head of his cock.

you gasp, rising on your toes as the blunt tip of his dick spreads your cunt, teasing your clit before notching at your entrance. "gonna fill up every hole tonight, baby, y'gonna let me?"

you let out a whine, "fuck, yes, please." you nod, cunt fluttering around the tip of his cock.

the stretch is painful; you expected it, craved it - you let out an animalistic moan when he slides in a few inches. "oh-" you whimper, legs tensing as Joel kneads the flesh of your ass, pressing his bare chest to your spine as he mouths along the base of your neck, "relax, baby, so fuckin' tight-" he groans as he slides in slowly, "let me in, sweetheart, c'mon-"

a rush of arousal and he's fully seated within you, the sting of his cock in you subsiding as a growing desire mounts until you can't take it. "move- m-move, now, please." you rush, hips pushing back against Joel's impatiently.

"shit," Joel hisses as he pulls out of you slightly - a long, thick drag against your velvety cunt and you groan at the sweet bliss of being filled up. you moan as he thrusts forward, tip hitting the perfect spot that already, as his pace builds, has a simmering coil deep within you.

"thought- thought about it all day," you admit, hands finding purchase on the counter as he starts to fuck into you, your tits sliding as they press against the sink. "on the horse, thought abo-" you moan sharply as his thumb grazes over your asshole, spreading the slick and his spit around the tight ring. "fuck, sir- that feels good." you moan. he groans in response and the words fly from your lips - "you drive me crazy, so big, t-touching me all the time. dream about you filling me up- s-stuffing me full, even out in the woods-"

your words are too much for Joel, apparently, because his hand slaps over your mouth and his voice whispers, "sh-shut the fuck up, darlin', y'needa be quiet or I'm gonna finish before this even starts." he grunts, hips snapping into yours as he picks up the pace.

you whimper at his words, arousal gushing from you and coating his cock in your slick; the wet slapping of your bodies echoing through the bathroom. "fuck-" he drags out the word, fingers sliding over your lips to prod at your mouth, "here- suck, darlin' - there you go, good girl, that's right."

your tongue slides over his fingers, eyes fluttering closed as you feel his thumb breach your tight hole; a sudden rush of pleasure runs through you as it hits you - Joel's everywhere. he's filling you completely - his thumb slowly fucks your tight ring of muscle as his cock spears your cunt; his fingers, pressing down on your tongue as you whimper and moan around him.

a groan leaves his full lips; "fuck- look at me." he grunts, hand sliding up your throat to pull your jaw towards your reflection. "look at me, baby-" his fingers slide back into your mouth as your eyes meet the fire in his through the mirror.

"always tell me when you feel like this, 'kay?" he asks, brows stern as he rams his hips into you; his thumb fills you and fucks into you at a slower speed than his cock, sending searing pleasure through your entire body.

your flesh moves at the impact of his hips and you cry out as his cock hits the delicious spot inside you that curls your toes. his thumb slips from your ass and you whimper dejectedly; the full feeling subsiding slightly as his hand grips your tits, pinching your nipple as he hums in your ear. "don't want my pretty little slut feeling so needy all the time, right?" he mutters, nosing at your hair as he fucks into you with no abandon. your fingers clench to the sides of the sink as you let out a strangled, "yes, sir-"

"so if you use your words, I'll give you anything you want." he groans, hand smacking your ass as the other squeezes your jaw. you nod, agreeing with his words though his cock has rendered you nearly speechless. he hums in approval before muttering, "now you're goign to play with your clit until you cum."

you let your eyes roll back at the commanding tone as your hand snakes down to rub tight, blisteringly pleasurable circles over your bundle of nerves.

but it's immediately too much so soon; you're already so close to your orgasm that a jagged gasp falls from your lips, jumping at the feeling.

"no, 's too much," you moan, head falling back as your finger teases your clit, flames of pleasure licking up isnide you.

but Joel smirks, "why're you still doin' it, then?" he teases, cock hitting so deep and bruising that you think you may see stars.

you moan out, "w-wanna cum, wanna make you happy, Joel." you whimper, completely forgetting to call him sir; but you feel his brows furrow as a moan ripples from his lips - "y'makin' me real happy right now, darlin', look at you. fucked out on this old man's cock, doin' whatever I say, desperate and willing. you're perfect, aren't you?"

you shiver in pleasure at his praise, fingers shaking as you rub your clit, trying so hard not to ruin your orgasm by cumming too soon. his cock spears into you at a pace that will certainly bruise your hips; your breath is punched out of you, your gasps and moans painting the air.

"say it, baby." he orders, hand stroking your breast a staunch contradiction to his brutal pace. "tell me how perfect you are for me."

you wail, head falling back onto his broad, thick shoulder as he runs his mouth over your shoulder, nipping as he goes. you're out of breath - "p-perfect, I'm perfect for you Joel, fuck, don't stop. so good, so good-" you mumble, fucked out after only a few minutes.

he hums, nodding into you. "taught you well, didn't I? you're my perfect little star."

you nod, "yes, sir, thank you-" you squeal in pleasure as he strokes long and slow, pushing you nearly to the brink as your legs shake. you can't take it, though - your fingers stop their ministrations, shaking and burning as you pull away from your clit, so close from just his cock and-

a slap to your cheek as Joel's lips bite into your jaw, "put your fuckin' hand back right now. you don't stop 'till I tell you to."

you swallow shakily, shaking your head, "I can't- it's too much, I can't-"

"fine." he snaps, slapping your cheek again before one hand slips to grip hard at your shoulder, lifting one of your legs up onto the sink; his other hand snakes down to pinch your tortured clit and you scream as he grunts in your ear, "I'll do it myself."

he's unforgiving on your quivering cunt, barely able to stay upright as he pushes you down, your cheeks pressing to the cool counter as he pounds down into you, shooting you into a hurtling race towards your orgasm.

he brutally fucks into you in a blinding pace. you nearly scream as white-hot pleasure rips through you, your hands falling to the counter as he coaxes a mind-bending orgasm from you. you see white as you cum, pulsing and writhing over his cock as it spears into you, splitting you open.

"that's it, baby-" he lets out a loud moan, biting into your neck as he continues the brutal pace, "jesus- s'fucking tight, baby, can barely move-" his hands fall to your hips, using you as a fuck toy to finish himself off; you're still writhing with the ecstasy of the orgasm, relishing in the way his hands hold you.

"where're you gonna take me, baby?" he grunts, voice strained: he's so close.

you scramble, holding his hips as you nearly pass out - pleasure too much. "cum on my ass, please sir." you mutter, heat licking up your throat as the words come out.

he moans and pulls out of you suddenly, hand flying from your skin to his cock, a slick noise as he quickly tugs himself until hot spurts of his cum paint the skin of your ass. "pretty girl," he grunts to himself, "an' you're all mine."

you hum, moaning quietly as his thumb soothes over your skin, spreading his cum over your ass and pressing it slightly against your ass. your cunt flutters in arousal at the action and he hums, "y'like that, don't you, pretty girl?"

you nod as you let out a shaky sigh and he presses a kiss to your spine, "good." it's a whisper on your skin, a promise.

he's barely grabbed a towel to wipe his cum off your skin before you're turned around on jelly legs - his strong arms pull you in so fast you barely have a second to straighten out - he's nuzzling into your wet hair in a way that has your heart thumping and your throat dry.

his heart beats against your cheek, body warm, chest heaving along with yours.

heat, affection - they swirl in your chest as his bare body cradles yours. intimately.

your sweet skin is sticky with sweat when Joel comes to, out of the bliss of his and your orgasms.

he's just as sweaty as you, though the clean skin and foggy mirror have started to clear up. Joel nearly huffs a short laugh at the thought of taking yet another shower - christ knows the two of you are once again filthy - but he kind of likes it, in a way. a secret.

he brushes it off when he feels your fingers curl around his arm; he had barely noticed that he'd tugged you upright and right into his chest, holding you as tight as he could. for some reason, his mind reaches back to earlier in the evening, when he'd heard that branch - the fear, the panic that'd risen in him. he's not sure why, or at least, he won't think about it. you hadn't mentioned it, but he'd seen your hands shake and your eyes cloud with fear.

something for another time, because he has you warm and pliant and naked in his arms. he barely noticed how his lips press at your hairline; it's just... well, feels natural.

like you both need it.

"stay here, please." you ask meekly, quietly. the first words spoken in a minute; you're swallowing around the nerves and anxiety that crawl in your chest, he can tell. he feels them, too.

he's taken aback as he stares at you - you both have patrol again in the morning, is it not... aren't you going to get tired of him?

won't you find him annoying, or gross in the morning when he inevitably pulls you closer in his sleep, when the dreams are too real and he shoots up in bed?

the panic subsides as he stares into your warm eyes, hopeful, bashful. he smiles gently, biting through the smile in embarrassment at how willing he is to stay. he'd stay forever if you asked.

Joel nods through his surprise, though, his body and heart and head aching to lie with you once again, to feel the calmest sleep he's had in years.

"course, darlin', I'll..." he pulls you in closer, so he doesn't have to look at those damn eyes when he finally admits it -

"I'll stay as long as you want."

feedback welcome as always :') <3

#let's chat abt mr miller #joel tlou smut #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x you #joel miller the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel smut #joel x reader #joel tlou #the last of us x reader #the last of us (tv)#the last of us smut #pedro pascal smut

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joelmillers-whore · 8 months

Text

Couldn't Help It

summary: getting sick was not part of the plan and letting your boyfriend frankie take care of you while you’re sick was definitely not in that plan either.

word count: 2.4K

series or one-shot

warnings: no warnings for this one. just some sweet ol’ fluff for you all today. some mild swearing i guess, frankie morales x f!reader

A/N: this is my first frankie fic so please be nice lol. not that y’all wouldn’t be. this is just a very short fic to start off with, i promise i’ll write some smut for him next time. enjoy and don’t hesitate to comment, reblog, and leave a like.

tags: @hellishjoel @ilovepedro

You’d felt it the night before, the burning and the scratchiness in the back of your throat. You tried to ignore it, tried to will the start of your illness away. You had popped every godforsaken pill out there and took enough sleeping medicine to knock out a small elephant, determined to head it off at the pass.

Nothing seemed to help you and now you were confined to your bed, fighting against a pounding headache and racking up a killer fever. You could have probably pushed through the ailments, continued on like nothing was wrong and completed your thesis as normal.

But pushing yourself to your limit time and time again, staying up until the early hours and only nabbing a couple of hours of sleep was surely the main reason why you were sick now. It was your body's way of telling you to slow down.

For months, you had been running on fumes, trying to get to the end of the tunnel after so many years of rigorous schooling. You’d never needed a break, or never wanted to stop and take one, and now you were being forced to.

Although now, school seemed like a distant thought, actually, every thought seemed distant, like they were just on the outskirts of your mind, clouded in a sickness-induced fog that you couldn’t seem to wade through, no matter how hard you tried.

Every limb felt heavy as you attempted to maneuver around your apartment, you felt weak and tired and on some level, even vulnerable. You couldn’t function normally, you couldn’t even do something as normal as drink water. This definitely wasn’t your run-of-the-mill common cold, you’d thought. This had to be the thing that wiped out the dinosaurs.

You tossed and turned in your bed, trying to get comfortable, your body aching and your ears ringing. You had to periodically swallow, on account of the build-up of pressure in your ears, which was proving to be annoying.

Sweat clung to every surface, feeling unbearable as you become either too hot or too cold, casting your blanket off of yourself and then pulling it back over you a minute later, your body succumbing to a full body chill.

Your lids dropped closed, the call of sleep loud enough now that you couldn’t ignore it. Sleep seemed like a good idea, a great idea even, and you let yourself slip under with little resistance.

You didn’t know how long you had been asleep for, it could have been minutes, it could have been days, but all you knew was that you were feeling somewhat better. You were still a far cry from being a hundred percent, but it was something.

It was still difficult to swallow, and your throat was still scratchy and dry, but now, your head wasn’t pounding and your body temperature was starting to regulate itself. You were coasting along with your high fever, a daze settling over you as you stripped off your layers, trying to cool down.

Still feeling groggy from sleep, you hadn’t heard the door at first, but your ears perked up when it got louder, your body jolting up in bed at the incessant pounding coming from your front door. You groaned, wondering who it could be.

You certainly weren’t expecting anyone and you sure as hell were going to be pissed if it was your creepy neighbour again, wanting to ask you out for the millionth time. Sliding out from the warmth of your covers, you really, really didn’t want to see anyone right now, not when you probably looked like something that crawled out of a sewer.

Hoisting yourself up from the bed on wobbly legs, you padded out of your bedroom, crossed the apartment, and pulled open your door. Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head, surprised to see who had been on the other side of your door. It was Frankie, your boyfriend.

Frankie had been to your apartment before, but only briefly and you had thought that he had forgotten your address entirely. It wasn’t as if he was an unwelcome sight, quite the opposite actually. He stood straight, tall, and he towered over you. His unkempt curls peeked out from underneath his signature baseball cap and a weak smirk was present on his face.

His arms were crossed but his aura was anything but unpleasant. His light green button-up was stretched tight across his chest and bulging arm muscles, pulling the material so snuggly that you thought it would rip and if you were feeling better, you would have liked to see that happen. You still wanted to, if you were honest with yourself.

Frankie’s coffee-brown eyes were blown, a tick of worry flooding them as he looked at you— only you. Your heart hammered in your throat, an air of restlessness settling over you at the realization that Frankie was worried about you, for some reason.

You hadn’t been dating each other long, it had only been about four months, but the way that Frankie always seemed to look at you, with adoration and a soft protectiveness, similar to how he was looking at you now, made your stomach erupt with an incomparable amount of flutters.

You leaned your head against the frame of the door, eying Frankie as he analyzed you, and studied you like you were his favourite book. It should have unnerved you, the intensity of it, but the idea of him being so concerned with your well-being calmed you.

“Hi”, you said, your voice coming out raspier than you were expecting.

Frankie inched forward subtly, his hand mindlessly drifting to your hip, “Hey”, he paused. His eyes flicked down the length of you, those bushy brows creasing, “Are you okay?”.

Your lips tipped up at the sides, pulling into a light smile. All you could do was hum your reply, suddenly overcome with tiredness again.

“I was worried ‘bout you. Haven’t heard from you in two days”, Frankie muttered, trying to hide how worried he actually was about you. But at this point, even if your current state, you could pick up on his different cadences.

Your eyebrows knitted together, “Has it really been two days?”.

Time almost seemed to stand still when you were sick, the concept foreign to you when you couldn’t even think straight.

He nods, his pupils blown and fixated on you. “What’s going on?”.

You chewed on your lower lip, tugging at the sensitive skin harshly as you debated your next words. It was a simple enough question and it deserved a clear, simple answer. But for some reason, when you opened your mouth to speak, nothing came out.

This was the first time that Frankie had seen you like this— had seen you as this frail and feeble version of yourself, and you didn’t like it. Because this wasn’t who you were and it wasn’t who you wanted to be thought of as. Someone who needed to be helped and someone who always needed saving, and you definitely didn’t want Frankie to see you that way.

So instead of giving him the direct answer, you opted for, “Nothing, ‘m fine”.

Frankie scanned your face, his face twitching imperceptibly, like he didn’t believe you at all.

“You’re not”, he tightened his grip on your hip, “You don’t look fine”.

You forced a chuckle from your throat, thinking that the garbled noise was close enough to pass as a laugh, “Thanks...”.

He sighed, shuffling his cap on his head nervously, “That’s not what I meant... I just meant, you don’t look like yourself”.

His other hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb running across your cheekbone softly, lovingly. Your eyes flitted closed at his touch, soaking in the feeling and almost moaning from how good it felt. But you held yourself back.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to continue holding yourself up, your weakened strength waning the longer you stood. You needed to sit down, or rather lie down, but with Frankie there, you couldn’t exactly escape to your bed without admitting to him that something was wrong with you.

Pushing yourself off of the door, you shuffled to the living room, plopping down on the couch with a small groan. Frankie wordlessly closed your door, following you deeper into your apartment. He stood above you, pulling his cap off and running a hand through his already tussled curls.

The action was more mesmerizing than you wanted to admit, and you found yourself licking your dry lips.

Frankie smiled down at you, his eyes gleaming in the low light of the lamp that was next to you. His deft fingers raised to your chin, tipping your head up so that your eyes met his, “You’re not feeling well, hm?”.

You shook your head, still adamant about remaining strong, “Told you, I’m fine”.

Frankie’s face fell, those gleaming eyes losing their shine, “Don’t lie to me. I thought we didn’t do that with each other”.

Your gut soured at the thought. It was true, you never wanted to lie to Frankie and still keeping him at arm’s length was killing you. But it wasn’t like you did it on purpose, not consciously anyway. A string of shitty ex-boyfriends who had left their mark on you made you weary of trusting anyone you were seeing.

But Frankie wasn’t like any of them, he wasn’t like anyone you’d ever met actually. He was kind and he was the best man you’d ever known. He didn’t force you into situations that made you uncomfortable, or manipulate you emotionally just because he could.

And he didn’t deserve to be shut out. You rolled your shoulders back, taking a stabilizing breath. “This is humiliating”, you mumbled.

Frankie’s lips twitched, his fingers still holding onto your chin, “Why?”.

“Because...”, you sighed, avoiding his eyes, “I just... I’m not used to needing anyone”, you paused, trying to get out what you were thinking without stumbling over your words, “It’s just been me for a long time, and I’ve always been able to take care of myself”.

Your eyes flitted back to Frankie’s, your face heating with embarrassment at your confession. You thought you’d see anger or hurt in his eyes, but he was still smiling down on you, only faint amusement on his face.

“Well, get used to it because you’re not alone anymore. So, let me take care of you. Because I want to”.

Your breath came out shaky, only now realizing that those were the exact words that you needed to hear. Emotion bubbled in your chest, constricting your throat and rendering you speechless.

You simply nodded, while Frankie’s fingers slipped from your chin and he grabbed your hand instead, helping you to your feet and leading you back to your bedroom. Even though you had only been awake for a short while, your mind and body were already exhausted, and by the look on Frankie’s face, he knew it.

He lifted the covers over your body, leaning over and kissing your temple, humming sweetly as he pulled back. He turned, heading out of your bedroom, when you took hold of his hand, stopping him.

“Will you stay?”, you asked, meely. The feeling of needing someone so much scared you, but the look of pure giddiness on Frankie’s face overtook that unsure weight on your chest and replaced it with something infinitely lighter.

He nodded, “‘Course, just wanted to get a wet cloth, might help bring down your fever”.

Frankie’s hand drifted to your forehead, the back of it laying flatly against your skin, cooling it down significantly already. You let your eyes drift closed, nodding absentmindedly as Frankie’s hand stayed where it was for a little longer.

“Be right back”, he whispered, leaving your side temporarily.

You’d fallen back asleep sometime after he left, dazed sleep taking over you. Your eyes only cracked open slightly when you felt your mattress dip and a cold sensation on your forehead. You tried to mumble something, but it came out jumbled.

Frankie smoothed back your hair, stroking your head rhythmically as he spoke, “Shhh, just rest. I’ll be right here when you wake up”.

His presence and the feeling of his subtle touch against your clammy skin were enough to lull you back to sleep. There was something inside of you that had always yearned for this, for the closeness outside of sex. The intimacy of a relationship. Frankie wanted to be here, he wanted to take care of you, and he cared for you in a way that your past boyfriends hadn’t, that much was clear.

Your heart clenched in its cavity when you felt Frankie lower himself onto the bed, behind you, and scooted closer so that his front was flush with your back. His arms wrapped around you, his face nestled into the crook between your neck and shoulder.

He peppered scratchy kisses along your exposed skin, his trimmed facial hair tickling your exposed skin.

“You didn’t have to stay”, you mumbled. Only now recognizing that you had been asleep for the whole night, the sunlight cascading in and bathing the whole room with light.

“Couldn’t help it, I needed to make sure that you were okay”.

You turned your body around in Frankie’s grip, letting your head fall against his shoulder, your eyes meeting his inky irises. The light bounced on one side of his face, lightening up his features and highlighting the most memorable parts of him.

Like his slightly crooked nose that you loved to dot with kisses, his smile lines that you couldn’t help but trace with your index finger. Or his loose brown curls that you loved to run your hand through and tug on roughly when he kissed you.

Your hand met his cheek, stroking it gently. You leaned in, planting a small kiss onto his lips. He smiled against you, deepening it and slowly devouring you.

You pulled back, “Thank you”.

Frankie dragged you closer to him by your waist, pulling you into his atmosphere. You felt safe and comfortable lying in his arms, embracing the quiet moment between you two. Maybe it was comfort you were feeling but maybe it was something deeper, something you had been afraid to admit until now.

You were falling in love with Frankie Morales, you were sure of that now. And you didn’t think you’d be able to stop it, not that you really wanted to. But that was a confession for another time, right now you were falling asleep in his strong hold, content and intent to keep yourself close to him for as long as he’d let you.

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heart2beom · 1 year

Text

second lead syndrome

pairing: taehyun x gn!reader

genre: fluff, just tons of fluff

synopsis: taehyun, your neighbor, has been helping you out with beomgyu, the best friend you've been in love with for your entire life. when you finally score a date, albeit taehyuns plan working, you're in crisis.

because you start getting second thoughts.

warning: purposeful wrong tagging for more reach. sorry babes im greedy 😭 though i dont specify pronouns, this is more fem leaning!!

notes: i wrote this in only an hour, not the most quality work but i had to release something for my favorite man's birthday hello????!?! also was listening to this is what falling in love feels like by JVKE on repeat, if that helps with the reading experience. i have no idea if it does. lol as always, reblogging will help the algorithm pick this up so as a content creator, ill love you for it.

you were extremely fidgety as you looked at yourself in the mirror -- this was the fourth outfit you've changed into. you slightly chewed on your bottom lip, furrowing your brows together thinking...none of this felt real, that was one thing you were sure of. preparing to go on a date with beomgyu...it's like dying and actually walking up the stairs of heaven.

the man that was all your firsts yet, felt like a distant, unachievable dream. the man that makes you go to sleep with the biggest smile, and the man that makes you kick your feet, squealing into your pillow even after long graduating high school. he felt just like a celebrity crush. a celebrity crush, someone you'll never ever have the chance to date.

that is, until taehyun moved in next door. you heard rumors from the old ladies at the apartments' lobby that he was a genius, a young einstein if you will, graduating seoul university with top marks.

you don't know what, but something possessed you to go knock at his door's flat, pushing a welcome basket of bread in his arms, saying word for word, "teach me how to make a guy fall in love with me". of course, you managed to squeak out a please for politeness sake.

it was the built up desperation, you guessed looking back. but despite thinking highly of taehyun's mind, you never expected whatever voodoo steps he made up to actually work. sure, it took...what? like, months and twenty bucks every now and then, but it worked.

you turned away from your mirror, looking back at the man occupying your bed, cocking your head to the side.

"what? are you feeling like you're dreaming again?" he asks, mirroring your action. "want me to pinch you?"

you exhale, exhausted. "i need to change."

which taehyun sat up straight to, "again? i already told you, you look pretty."

you roll your eyes to that comment. maybe getting a man to help you prepare for a date wasn't the brightest idea you've had, though, you aren't particularly known for having bright ideas anyway.

"i need an honest opinion, but you just keep on saying oh you look good, oh you look pretty" you mock, deepening your voice to mimic taehyuns'. before he could retaliate, you add "and it's not helping, at all."

it was silent for a while, until he folded his arms,"you want me to give my honest opinion?" he asked. and you nod, frantically at that.

"brutally honest, hit me with the straight, cold facts." you say, preparing yourself by straightening your shoulders.

"well, for one" he starts, to which you take a deep breath at anticipation, "you'll never make it on time for your dream date. that's one fact."

you groan, walking in your stupidly long heels to sit on the edge of your bed, next to taehyun. "okay, well, that's a given at this point. give me something else."

"and you're incredibly, weirdly nervous for a movie date with your best friend. that's another fact." he had put his phone face down next to him, now with his legs crossed, as he looked out for your reaction.

"taehyun." you drawl, beyond annoyed.

"what?", he asked innocent, like he wasn't just taunting you. all you did was give him a death glare, which earned an airy laugh from him.

"alright, i'll be serious now, i promise." he said, scooching up to sit directly by your side now, his legs touching yours with how close he was.

"starting with your face— don't get mad, you asked for this." he warned with a raised finger, which made you nervously gulp. did you really look that bad? you nodded to reassure him to continue anyway—you weren't going to risk going to this date looking bad.

"your eyes; the glitter, though it helps pull your whole look together," he makes a hand gesture, your breath hitched in your throat, as you nodded for him to continue "it's dull when you compare it to your eyes."

you furrow your brows, incredibly puzzled. "what does that mean?"

"your eyes shine more" he said with a cheeky grin, your mouth left agape at his playfullness.

"glitter doesn't shine. you..you suck at flirting." you said hitting his shoulder, letting out an unbelievable scoff.

he fauxes hurt as he rubs his shoulder, "this isn't flirting, i'm being very honest right now!"

you roll your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. "mhm"

he shrugs, "i'm not going to continue if you don't believe me."

"okay, okay. i believe you, continue kang."

"alright. so, your brows," you nod. "perfectly trimmed, which..." he leans closer to your face, his thumb grazing your eyebrows. you didn't expect the sudden closeness, so your breath was hitched, stuck right in your throat. "which is good. there's no little hairs in between, or surrounding them."

he moves away after what felt like a whole hour, in reality, was just a few seconds. only beomgyu ever got that close to you — that's your justification for your heart quickening at the proximity. you just got reminded of beomgyu, that was it.

"going well so far." you breathed out, finally being able to talk.

"yeah? told you you don't look bad." you narrowed your eyes. "taehyun. you're not doing this just to say i told you so are you? that's, like, cheating!"

taehyun sighed. "y/n, do you think i'm trying to sabotage you or something? i'm not. i'm not praying on your downfall, i'm being honest."

your previously furrowed eyebrows turned into pleading ones, filled with insecurity. "yeah?"

"yeah." you looked up to see his eyes. they always calmed your anxiousness, you found that the eyes are the doors of the soul saying couldn't have matched anyone more than it did taehyun, you knew everything just by looking at them. and this time, when you looked at them, it was almost overwhelming how they looked back at you with such softness — sincerity.

so overwhelming, your heart picked up at a faster speed, once again. what was up with you?

"okay, now, your lips," and again, his thumb. the one responsible to all of this. it was on your lips, going back and forth on the bottom one, then facing it to his eyes. he looked a bit taken back, kind of shocked.

"what?" you ask with your brows raised. he turns his thumb to you, with an amused smile spread on his face, "there's no red."

you let out an airy laugh, he was way too cute. "well, yeah, it's a no smudge matte lipstick. it's impossible to get off without makeup wipes."

"huh. then, that's good. you can kiss beomgyu without it being all messy." you nod slowly to that. "hey, on that note, refrain from giving me details about the kiss... if it happens."

you're quick to retaliate with a scoff. "it will happen, why won't it happen? it'll happen!"

he shakes his head, which earns an offended expression from you. "i'm just saying, you're the biggest coward i know."

"you're the biggest coward i know." you replied immaturely.

"i'm going to...i'm going to ignore that lame comeback and pretend it wasn't awful." he said, taking a look at his phone. "it's about to be ten...are you feeling less..insecure?"

you look at your heels, then back at him with a smile. "think so, yeah."

when you finally lock your door with keys, taehyun hovering over your back, you turn to him chirply. you're ready, you're ready to go out with beomgyu.

"so." you started, looking up at him, a large smile on your face. "thank you, taehyun. seriously. i know it was kind of weird at first, like you know, spending a lot of time with a stranger but to be completely honest—"

"it wasn't." he interrupted.

"huh?"

"it wasn't weird spending so much time with you."

"oh—well, uh" again, taehyun catches you off guard with his aloofness, making you stutter like an idiot, completely forgetting your monologue.

it didn't help that taehyun somehow was closer than you thought, way closer than the usual arm length. seriously, what was up with the proximity?

when you catch a glimpse of his eyes, it was again, so soft, waiting for you to say something. then, when taehyuns hand found its way tucking a strand behind your ear, you couldn't hear anything anymore. your heartbeat was magnified to your ears, despite seeing that his mouth was moving, saying something, you couldn't focus.

he waved a hand at your face, and you refocused again.

"think you should go now, love of your life's blowing up your phone."

"um—um yeah" you stuttered, waking up from your thoughts. "it's probably beomgyu" you muttered, smiling weakly.

"yeah," he chuckled a little, and god, was it so fucking cute. "thats why i said love of your life."

it was weird how you didn't catch that, you've always been referring to beomgyu as the love of your life, especially with taehyun.

you watched as he unlocked his door knob, looking back at you with his eyes twinkling a little under the dim hallway lights, "don't get nervous, you really do look pretty."

then he was gone, cruelly leaving you with one thought as you looked at the texts from the contact name, 'love of my life'.

you weren't ready. you weren't ready to go out with beomgyu. at all.

ending a/n: soooo how we feeling? cute? cute? readers so starstruck by taehyuns eyes and im just like..yup, same. me. this was originally apart of a very long fic i was working on, but that was scrapped, so..lol have this cute lil thing

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sugar-omi · 11 months

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Alright all your Cove and Baxter anguish has me FUCKED UP and I need some adorable Cove fluff to recover. How about a little about Cove and M/C as newlyweds coming home after the honeymoon?

at first i didnt know what to write but then i start thinking n.... pls i love this sm i hope it heals your broken heart <3333

tags : Fluff, cove loves you sm, sharing money (cove shares his money/bank acc w you), he's just in love w you theres nothing else to say

synopsis : how cove acts after your come back from your honeymoon

he's bringing you flowers everyday

at first he brings you a couple bouquets but you've run out of places for them so he just brings you one and add them to your collection.

none of them are the same either

so you have sunflowers, lilies, roses, tulips, peonies, orchids, and many many flowers all in one vase

is it a little ugly? probably. definitely. the colors and sizes n shapes all clash but it's the thought that counts

if you don't like flowers, are allergic, or you get tired of him bring so many...

he brings you food <3

I think one of cove's love languages is food

he brings home sweets like cheese cake or marbled cake

or fudge, or chocolates

or if you aren't into sweets like that, then he'll bring lunch/dinner instead

he's a decent cook, and even if you're bad at cooking he wants you to help him

lots of kissing n half burnt food (he takes whatever portion is burnt so you don't have to eat it)

and he tries to always bring u lunch

if he can't bring you lunch for whatever reason, he either packs one for you or sends you money for lunch

COVE: hi bby, have you eaten yet YOU: im ordering food rn COVE: i sent u 50 is that enough YOU: ?!*!&!(!? YOU: that's too much 😭😭 cove pls YOU: ill send the rest back COVE: keep ot COVE: it* COVE: my money is your money

he does this all the time now, in fact he'll even had you his card

which he's always done before your marriage, but now ge even gets you a card connected to his bank account too

he doesn't even care if you share your money w him too, he just wants to give you everything he has

like if you asked for his shirt in the middle of the store I think he'd ask why n then just give it to you

as if he was gonna say no in the first place 🙄💀💀

he just becomes so much more obsessed w you after you're married

always cuddling or touching u

if you're around your mom's they're always cracking jokes....

especially if you want kids they're all "we're gonna be grandparents soon at this rate lol" (even if u want to adopt or dont wanna birth/can't have kids bc you're amab or infertile or smth)

they just think they're so hilarious 🙄🙄🙄

does he blush bright enough there's steam coming off him? maybe

does he stop? nope!!!

loves you so much, he just needs to be close to you

HAS A PICTURE OF U IN HIS WALLET

omg....

prbly has 2 actually

one is of the two of you bc sometimes he can't believe you're married n he just needs to make sure life is real

n one is of just you in your wedding attire

will talk abt you to anyone who asks or makes a comment

this mf would prbly get a shirt that says "y/n's husband" on the front

even tho it's in small print on the front it's embarrassing.... like pls we get it you're in LOVE

he'd get you both jewelry w your wedding date on it

will hold you up at the door if you try to leave without kissing him

you've always gave him a peck before leaving but now it's WORSE

once he even stopped you in the driveway before you pulled off...

man's ran out of the fucking house in socks and unicorn print sweatpants

you roll down the window "what? what's wrong?!" cove, leaning thru the window and pouting. "kiss."

you look at him in shock n disbelief before you just laugh and kiss him

he taxes you two extra kisses for the trouble, he got his socks wet from running out here!!!

you have to push him off otherwise you're gonna be late to work bc you were too busy making out in your driveway

your single/divorced neighbors hate you

the teens idolize what yall have n their standards got so fucking high after yall moved in

n the old ppl laugh bc they've been there when they married and/or they find it amazing how obsessed cove is w you

if it wasn't such a bad omen or if you didn't disapprove, he'd get your wedding date or your initials tatted on his ankle.

maybe it seems extreme all of this bc I think cove just realizes how amazing you are sometimes n all his love overflows in this way <3333

no matter how old you get he's always gonna run out in the rain, snow, or sunshine n get a kiss if you forget

pfx by the time he's 80 he can't move as fast but he's hustling down the path before you can escape

if you do get away before he can get a kiss though, he is pouting when you come back

#our life: beginnings & always #olba #cove holden #cove holden x reader #cove x mc #cove x reader #our life cove #cove our life #cove holden fluff #cove holden x mc #cove holden x reader fluff #fluff

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sgtmickeyslaughter · 1 month

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Answer the Questions and Tag 5 Fanfic Authors

Thanks for tagging @jrooc

1. How did you get into writing fanfiction?

I’ve always been an avid reader and as a kid I wanted to be a writer so that was the start. I’ve been reading fanfic since i was in highschool, and I’ve had many different barely started fanfics started over the years but last year was the first time I was able to actually finish anything/taken it seriously. I think it just came down to college teaching me the last bit of discipline in my creative practice

2. How many fandoms have you written in?

Just Gallavich, but I’m very confident I will write destiel in my lifetime

3. How many years have you been writing fanfiction?

I published my first fic in September of last year!

4. Do you read or write more fanfiction?

it goes back and forth, when i enter a fandom i read fanfic voraciously but now i think i write a little more, its a balance between you can write the fanfic you want to read and you can read other peoples work to experience ideas you would never think of or just a different take on a familiar topic - both are good. I’m currently slowly going through and re-reading my old fics to get them ready to print and bind and its been a super fun process

5. What is one way you’ve improved as a writer?

I hope i’ve improved a lot overall lol the main thing i always want to do well is portray the environment the way i envision it bc the worlds of my fanfics are rich and beautiful in my head so i just want to get better and better at pulling people into that

6. What’s the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

Not a ton of weird research, a lot of google maps-ing to get a better understanding of the layout of Chicago and understanding how far away states/cities are from one another (i’m american, just a weird bicoastal one)

7. What’s your favorite type of comment to receive on your work?

literally any comment, all of them are amazing and i can’t believe people read what i write and actually like it ?!? beautiful and very novel

8. What’s the most fringe trope/topic you write about?

um - i guess ABO, i was originally going to publish mine all mine anonymously bc it was very cringe inducing and still kind of is but tbh when i read it back i was like- wait this is good, even if it’s weird.

psychopomp is also a weird story, the way i thought/felt about it while writing was deeply weird and all the the themes of death and decay and devotion and consummation as an allegory for love were intended to be dark and just- weird

9. What is the hardest type of story for you to write?

Emotionally introspective fics that also really study the characters are really hard and i dont know why I keep fucking writing them - after finishing the fic im writing now i have to shift to something more plot focused

its really hard for obvious reasons but i also feel like i am an extremely logic driven person with a very particular worldview and all these characters are more emotionally driven than me. so i have to work very hard to not write behaviors from my pov and my decision making but from a studied understanding of the characters - which might be a good thing idk

um also idk if it needs to be said but brevity is not my strong suit, i should probably work on that

10. What is the easiest type?

Fluff, just cuddling and pillow talk baby i love that shit, also idk if i write smut well but it def goes the quickest for me

11. Where do you do your writing? What platform? When?

Pages app on my icloud - I write after work some days, on my lunch break and on the train ride home. Every so often ill wake up early on a weekend and be in the mood to put on my noise canceling headphones and write for hours, but thats not super often

12. What is something you’ve been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?

uhh - we’ll see. my true crime au is def one i want to write but all my ideas for the plot are just too dark rn, so well see if i can get it to lighten up a bit

13. What made you choose your username?

tagging 5 writers: @callivich @mmmichyyy @iansw0rld @energievie @metalheadmickey

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pitiable-arisen · 14 days

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20 Questions for Fic Writers!

sorry let me post this on the RIGHT blog! not sure if the other tags stay if I delete it but. Thank you @rakaiawriter for tagging me! Tagging @thequeenofthewinter @umbracirrus @madamefluffnstuff @bostoniangirl21

How many works do you have on A03? 18 works (mostly bc I dont post my oneshots separately).

What's your total word count? 174k on AO3 (I have a lot that is NOT posted and a bunch that’s been scrapped. Like probably another 100k+ more words lol

What fandoms do you write for? TES, Dragon’s Dogma (Eventually one day I’ll write my One Piece things)

Top 5 fics by kudos? Just a Ruin (and Mudcrab) Advocate 54 Kudos Coldfire Codex 29 Kudos Roar of a Wolfborn 25 Kudos Mages’ Guild Fiasco: Journal of Vestige Liselle 22 Kudos Shadows Preserve Us 22 Kudos

Do you respond to comments? I try to! I do keep them in my email though! <3

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? It is not posted anymore, but I wrote out a miniseries for Sifkni’s past. So, if you are reading the newly updated version of Roar of a Wolfborn, you probably never got to experience the angst that was Howls of Whiterun (If you are interested and want to read stuff from 2014/2015 send me a DM I can send the document of trash :3)

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Rage of Dragons and the Vestige - It’s the 3rd part in Liselle’s story. It covers Northern Elsweyr. She gets married to that old man, Abnur Tharn. Gets herself a Khajiiti Wedding bc that’s where they were.

Do you get hate on fics? I have in the past. For my old crack fic for Kingdom Hearts. I’ve recently found my one Dragon’s Dogma fic on a stupid website that says your writing is shitty or whatever. LOL I’m more angry about it, but like, it was written for fun… nothing serious my dudes. ( I can also supply this link but honestly its stupid.) The fic was written in 2014? 2015? And the review was posted in 2019?? XD

Do you write smut? I have but I will not write it anymore. It makes my physically ill sometimes. I get really bad anxiety over it.

Craziest crossover? I have a fic from like…2001? That was just a bunch of my husbandos from all my favorite animes falling in love with me. :3c, but nothing recent. Crossovers are not my things.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? YES! OMG! Someone stole MY fic idea and then TRIED to say I PLAGIARIZED THEM! The absolute! NERVE!

Have you ever had a fic translated? Not that I am aware…. I’ve had people use my translations of doujinshi to make more translations?

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes. It was quickly dropped due to his time constraints and low interest in TES at the time. Attempted to write it myself, but it wasn’t the same.

All-time favorite ship? Abnur Tharn x Liselle Yvette Farkas x Sifkni

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Frostfalls of Solstheim - I dont know why I EVEN started this, but not sure I will finish it Shadows Preserve Us - I hate this so much. I love Ragna and I love Mercer, but its been so hard to focus on this now. I might rewrite one day.

What are your writing strengths? Fuck if I know.

What are your writing weaknesses? I think I hate it sometimes? I procrastinate A LOT!

Thoughts on dialogue in another language? As someone who inserts random Ta’agra, Jel and Dovahzul into their fics…. :)

First fandom you ever wrote in? Slayers Next??

Favorite fic you've written? Just a Ruin (and Mudcrab) Advocate or Roar of a Wolfborn

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extrasensoryscholar · 7 months

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Introduction.

Hello, hello! My name is Alzis Myers, and I am a naturally born psychic... No, I do not also specialize in psychic type pokemon. Stop asking.

I am a history enthusiast, and while I do work professionally, (you may have heard my name in a few places,) most of my research and findings are independent. Unless it's peer-reviewed, take it with a grain of salt!

However, I primarily made this account not to publish my musings, but as an attempt to socialize! If I come off as off-putting, I truly, truly apologize. It has been a while since I've held proper conversations.

But, enough about me. I'm not a Pokemon trainer, but I have three Pokemon of my own.

Delphi (♀️) - My Absol. The partner I've had longest, and my best friend. She's an older girl now.

Kiran (♂️) - My Cubone. He's still very young and small. I've had him for about a year and a half now.

Atlas (???) - My Sigilyph. It's an Alpha. I am not quite sure about many things regarding it, but it enjoys patrolling my property. At least I think.

I shall be getting a proper image of them soon!

Hello! This is the OOC part of the introduction >:) I follow from @act11as! Muse is an adult, mod is a minor, don't be weird, etc.

Please note the blanket unreality warning in the description, I do not tag #unreality to avoid flooding the tag, but I do try to tag all non-out of character posts with #pkmn irl in case you need to block things from your dashboard at times! On that same note, OOC posts will be tagged as such, and I will mark them with green text (though often not past the first line, because it can be grating to look at after a while)

All trigger warnings will be tagged as "[word] tw" for the sake of consistency. And if I forget to tag something, please shoot me a dm or an ask!

Additionally: Please note that I am autistic and very chronically ill. I may have to end things earlier than they were planned to be because I just suddenly had a flare-up, and I often misinterpret/forget things, o7 please feel free to remind/correct me if I do!

Guidelines? I guess?

Literally any kind of pokemon irl blog can interact! Sentient pokemon, eebydeebies, evil teams, whatever. I'm chill with anyone, though the muse may not be, keep this in mind. If you want to do something, send me a dm! I'm more than happy to discuss things ^^

IN CHARACTER anon hate, be it just being an ass, homophobia, transphobia etc. etc. are perfectly fine. Note that I probably wont respond to all, especially if it seems to go a bit too far. (same vein: Feel free to start arguments with him if you want. It's always fun to write him angry <3)

^ Additionally, feel free to harass him for the bit. Just for funsies. I love playing into it if you can't tell!

Alzis is very much a morally grey character. His opinions are not my own, etc. He's also an unreliable narrator! PLEASE question what he says.

Extra:

Pelipper Mail, un-mail, and Malice are always open! Feel free to torment this guy whenever you so please. (links go to the source posts for all 3 lol)

Musharna mail, (sending dreams) and Musharna malice (sending nightmares) are always on! Once again feel free to torment this guy.

Magic anons are usually off, unless I specifically specify otherwise!

Some organizational tags:

#[nickname] the [pokemon] - Most posts about Alzis' pokemon should be tagged like this.

#Inquiries and Comments - Custom ask tag

#Alzis' ramblings - General post tag!

#Pokehistory rants - History rants and rambles!

#Myers' Mailbox - Pelipper Mail, gifts, etc.!

Additionally, here's his playlist! Don't... mind the 4 different Mind Electrics... bro's going through it.

#pkmn irl #pokemon irl #rotumblr #rotomblr #pokemon rp #pokemon roleplay #pokeblog #pokeblogging #// tag test:#Delphi the Absol #Kiran the Cubone #Atlas the Sigilyph #Inquiries and Comments #Alzis' Ramblings #Pokehistory Rants

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carpathianspaceprincess · 1 year

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Wintering (The Irish Poem) - Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel reads a favourite poem of yours, and reflects on the subject's similarities to you.

Rating: E. minors dni.

Pairing: Joel Miller x SeasonalDepression!Reader (F)

Tags: Irish coded reader. a little bit of Gaeilge. One Shot. Happy Ending(™). FLUFF. Sickening fluff. Soft!Joel. Established relationship/situationship. No smut in this but could be in the future.(❀❛ ֊ ❛„). Book a dentist appointment my friends, you will probably have cavities after reading this.

CW: brief mention of suicide and overdose attempt, mentions of seasonal depression/mental illness symptoms, mention of SSRIs.

WC: 2.4k

A/N: Happy late St. Patrick’s Day! This work was inspired by an Irish poem called “Geimhriú” by Ailbhe Ní Ghearbhuigh. The translation came from this post, and I only have a little Irish but it seems right. The Irish language is beautiful and I love it dearly, so I wanted my first posted work to celebrate it (i'm terrified of sharing this btw lol). I wrote this bc culture and language is nearly always left behind and forgotten in survivalist worlds like TLOU, and it’s rarely a theme in fics, but is an essential part of survival, especially for Irish communities. I may potentially expand this work to a series to explore more aspects of Irish culture as part of the story if it's well-received and I feel like it. btw this is not beta-read and idk how to format anything - this is genuinely my first time posting so there are likely mistakes! please comment if you find one, or have constructive criticisms, and of course like/reshare and interact if you had a good time reading this, it would mean the world to this little Irish gal.

(♡ ὅ ◡ ὅ )ʃ♡ enjoy!

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊.

Even at the end of the world, in the fucking apocalypse, in this shitty, godforsaken place, you were still somehow suffering from a seasonal affliction.

Depression, that is.

Joel saw it immediately, the way you took a little longer to answer the door when he came for you in the mornings, the bags under your eyes just a little more pronounced as the days in your district grew less colourful and the dry leaves wilted to the sodden earth. He also saw how you tried to hide it and for a while, tried to respect your clear denial of something being very, very wrong.

To your credit, you did what you could; soldiered on. Ate and slept more than usual, like a bear. Before the outbreak, you’d been on Zoloft, then Wellbutrin, but the chances of any SSRI medication still existing were so slim you knew you didn’t need to bother checking.

Even so, it frustrated you every morning, the fact that you weren’t like Joel. That you couldn’t just get up and get on with your day, that you needed some stupid chemical to make your brain work just because the weather was cold and the sky was churning furiously, gnashing it's teeth on nothing but grey, day-in and day-out.

You couldn’t make sense of it. You were living in near constant poverty, under a dystopian military dictatorship and in the middle of a civil war every god-damned fucking day whether the sun was shining or not, so why did the fields being barren and slick with sleet make you viscerally despise life so much more than seeing them full of fresh flowers and humming with bees? You’d still be hungry at the end of the day. Exhausted. What should the seasons matter to you now? There was no difference. No future. Not then.

You had hoped that maybe eventually, living in constant survival mode might, y’know, actually make your brain want to survive. But it didn’t. You hated it. But what you hated about yourself most of all was the fact that you desperately needed help. It was pathetic. Weak.

Joel didn't see it that way. Well, he didn't now.

At the start he thought it hadn't been too serious. Maybe you were 'just tired'.

But then winter had nearly taken you from him that year. The sudden and shocking bone-chill of Boston post-October had him practically dragging you out of your own bed every morning for the “supply run” he had taken to bringing you along on; silently begging you to get up and keep going for his sake if not your own. Telling you if a man from Texas could survive it, you’d better get your sorry ass up and do the same.

He’d found you then, in late December, the dead of night, throwing up and barely breathing. You’d collected enough opioids to kill a horse and tried to take your own life. You’d been lucky to see the next sunrise, and that was the last time he’d allowed you to sleep on your own. And the first time he’d heard of “Seasonal Depressive Disorder”, or whatever it was.

You’d explained that before all this, you’d had medications that would have stopped this issue for you; so Joel, having then appointed your fragile well-being as his responsibility, had looked for some. But of course there was nothing. So much to everyone else's delight, he spent the winter just like you; because like two really fucked-up peas in a pod, if you were in a foul mood, Joel’s was never far behind. With the QZ being overcrowded, freezing, and insistent on working you both to the bone, you were always in a foul mood.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

So now he can admit to himself that he likes this; likes seeing the glow of your rosy, apple cheeks in the tangerine afternoon rays of a tired day. The way the sunlight dapples the colour of your hair; the lazy smile that breaks across your gentle mouth as the cool breeze caresses you both. This wheat field is completely abandoned, high bland stalks swaying quietly. The rush of the little river nearby. A perfect place to take you; you who were beaming so joyfully, could’ve replaced the goddamn sun itself as far as it concerned him.

He feels the embroidered spine of your book in his hand, holding it away from your reach. The one you always had open on the same page, the one he caught you reading when you were supposed to have your hands on your rifle and your sharp eyes looking for guards and raiders.

“Let me read it.” he grins without realizing it, stretching a little further away as your fingers grab for purchase, pointlessly. You're too short to even touch the cover as he leans over you. “No!” You reiterate, and he frowns, a finger coming to his lips to remind you of your surroundings. Still careful. “Why not, huh? Can't be that bad if y'like it so much.”

A slow blush stains you as you huff, dropping your arms to your sides. Like a petulant child. Admitting defeat.

“Fine, but it’s not even in English.”

He quirks an eyebrow at that, and keeps your gaze as he flips the faded, worn pages open to find the one he’s looking for. “You won’t understand it.” You whisper. But he doesn’t need to understand it, he just wants to see. It makes perfect sense to him that you're bilingual, he doesn't know a lot about you, but he knows you're smart, and sharp as a tack...as long as something interests you.

The paper of this page in particular is dog-eared to the point of severe damage, and marked to all hell, but it isn’t dusty at all. Whatever this is, he sees that it’s well-loved by you. Well-read. His curiosity gets the better of him as you make one last reach for the precious item and he, with ease and very quiet glee, denies you.

He doesn’t try to read it aloud though, the words roll around on his tongue unfamiliar, tangled up in the calculator of his brain that is so used to the anglo-saxon american structure of speech. But he scans it quietly all the same, to your surprise.

Ná labhair focal,

ná féach im threo,

tá duifean ar mo chroí

nách n-ardófar.

Géillim don ngeimhriú

Ní aithneofar mé

go péacadh na mbachlóg.

Ailbhe Ní Ghearbhuigh.

He clears his throat, and runs a finger along the last line of text; “This the author?”

You peer over, nodding. He hums in acknowledgement, filing the information away for later. Then he graciously hands the book back to you, brushing your fingers with his, and you snatch it away; folding it closed against your lap. A low gust of wind makes the hair that frames the sides of your face dance delicately. You lean back on your arms then, to appear relaxed. Trying not to think of the delicious electricity sparkling under your smooth skin at his touch. Failing. You're hot, now. The humidity doing nothing to cool off the desire pooling in your belly as you look up at him through thick lashes. He's chewing a thought in his mouth, you can see it.

“Gaelic?”

You are actually taken aback, but smile and shake your head good-naturedly at the attempt. “Gaeilge.”

A look of confusion crosses his brow and a laugh, golden and sugary, pours from your chest. It squeezes him with violent affection for you. “Gaelic is Scottish. This is Irish. Gaeilge.” You repeat, cocking your head. “They’re different.”

He nods slowly. He wants to ask you how you came to speak it, and is that why you have a lilt in your accent? did you come from there? From Ireland? And how did you manage to keep speaking it after the outbreak?

But, he thinks those questions can wait til later. You'll tell him your story on your own terms when you're ready, and he respects that. What he does know is that this must be important to you somehow, and he's happy to focus on that for now.

“You gonna tell me what it’s about?”

“I could...but those are meant to be read and understood in the spirit of the language they’re in. They’re not meant to be in English.” You season the last word with some disdain, teasing.

He gives you a dry look and you laugh again. Rolling his eyes and pretending to fall over, he pops back up and props his dozy head with his elbow against the coffee-brown and burgundy leaves that have scattered and broken on the ground beneath gale-swept branches. Then he waits.

You take him in in all his intensity, the way his curls ruffle against his hand. The sleeves of his shirt pushed to his elbows, muscles and tendons flexing and taut, brown in the sun and from working outdoors.

You guess you do owe him one. Reaching your free hand towards him, he turns his face into your gentle touch on his jaw, and you just about explode. How could you deny him anything when he looks like this?

“Alright,” You give in, and it feels like the easiest thing in the world.

The book opens once more, and his pretty eyes follow your slender finger against the printed words with his gaze; you feel observed; shy. And you begin, your voice unsure of itself. But his hand on your thigh is cosy, encouraging.

“Don’t say a word,

Don’t look in my direction,

There’s something on my heart

That can’t be lifted.

I give in to wintering

You won’t see me

Til the buds begin to blossom”.

“Til the buds begin to blossom.” He repeats slowly, intentionally.

“You a man of literature now, Miller?”

He exhales sharply. “Not at all, ma’am. Just a curious one.”

The corner of your lips tugs upwards at this easier side of him - and you hum as you close the book and set it down with care, next to you. You each settle against the other comfortably then, taking in the sights and scents around you. A tranquility has made home inside your bones, with the feeling of his warm front against your back and you raise your face to the rays of sun; still beaming onto you from the early evening sky. Your whole body rests now, soothed by his presence.

Comfortable silence blankets over you both, for a few minutes.

“So, d’ya like the view?” He asks all of a sudden, kicking his feet back and stretching against the massive tree he’s got you both behind - completely hidden from the view of the gate patrol. He’s been scoping this place out for weeks, he knows it’s safe.

You feel his shirt ride up against your back and it ignites something that quickly dwarfs anything mellow or peaceful inside you.

“Do I like it, Joel Miller?” You repeat incredulously, turning around and crawling onto his lap; with only a little grace. His rough, calloused hands instinctively come up to your hips, and the denim of your worn jeans suddenly feels far too tight and restrictive for the kinds of lovely, fuzzy messages your body is giving to you. You straighten up, leaning in to breathe; a faint hint of whiskey, lot of smoke. Lot of man. Yours. Your man.

Before you can unleash the teasing reply you had tucked away for him, an unwelcome thought sobers you. He notices the shadow cross your pretty face, the terrible memory flickering away in the back of your mind. Calling back to your thoughts before, you realise very abruptly that you do owe him one. In fact, you owe him your life for this very afternoon. The seeping heat on your skin and the pastel wildflowers. The gorgeous vermillion colour of the sky. The rush of contentment in your heart.

“I never would have even seen this sunset if it wasn’t for you.” You murmur, lowly enough that he has to strain to hear it. A grumble rumbles in his chest but he says nothing in reply, so you stay quiet, and take his larger hands into yours. Trying to convey how grateful you are with your touch. Hoping it'll osmosis or something. Knowing you can never repay him for his selflessness, his friendship, his sacrifices.

He clears his throat then, to get your attention, and you lock eyes with him; searching and deep. Knowing.

“You know I love it.” you whisper, appreciating the deep brown irises framed by spectacular eyelashes. The eyes you’d know absolutely anywhere. “I love it more than anything.”

You’re not talking about the view anymore.

He knows it, too; lines softening at the complete adoration on your face, the vulnerability; the way you’re giving it all to him. And he wants it even though he really shouldn’t. He wants you exactly like this for the rest of your lives. Warm and happy, tucked up next to him in some butt-fuck middle of nowhere place in the sun, tending to your garden and reading your books and your poems, unbothered by the harsh realities of the world revolving around you. Away and safe from the sickness and cruelty of the cities.

He watches carefully the radiant glow that’s touching your expression, and he can’t help but understand then, why you like that poem.

It’s you.

In moments like these, when you’re pressed up against him and smelling so sweet he feels heady and drunk, it’s much harder to shove away those very domesticated thoughts he’s been having; of you and the kind of things he wants to give you. The kind of life he wants you to have, together. Although he couldn’t tell you out loud, not yet anyway. He’s working on it.

You wonder what he's thinking about, leaning to press a soft kiss to his chin to bring him back to earth- closing your eyes at rough stubble brushing against your cheek. You feel an earth-shattering smile and wish you could see, but it’s gone by the time you raise your head again.

What you do see is a tanned arm reaching behind you to pluck something from the soft earth.

It’s a sunflower. Bright and plush and golden.

Like you, he thinks.

Firm fingers gently and deftly push your strands aside, carefully slipping the green stalk of it right behind your left ear.

Leaning back to peer at you and admire his handiwork, he tucks his hands behind his head.

He compares what’s in front of him now to his memories of last month; your face tear-tracked and pale in his bed, telling him you didn’t want to live. Him never knowing how to help you, spending those bleak evenings with fear poisoning his every thought, constantly worrying he would come back home to you cold and still. Wrapping himself tight around you in his bed late at night in the hopes he could somehow just piece it all back together by holding you. The memories the experience brought up for him; the ones fuelling his terror of failing you, like he failed her.

And now you here, surrounded by spring buds blossoming in the sweet change of the season. Wildflowers, peonies, just like you, so easily pleased by the sun and the green of the forest and the view from the top of your apartment building once the snow had begun to melt. Softened by just a little bit of warmth and a lot of love. A lot of care. He's proud of you and how hard you've worked to drag yourself out of the place you were in.

He’s suddenly finding it difficult to control the way he wants to cry with relief.

You don’t know any of this, of course. But the way he observes you so deliberately sends little shivers down your spine, despite the humidity and haze. You do feel kind of silly sitting like this though, so you reach up to pull the flower from your hair, but his fingers grip your wrist hard and fast before you can get to it and they tell you otherwise, pressing indents into your skin that you'll remember later tonight.

“Don’t.” He says softly. “I like it.”

You try to stop the grin from breaking out but fail miserably, and he's dazzled by it. One smile, and he’s completely and overwhelmingly filled with love for you.

Yes, he thinks; even at the end of the world, even in this shitty fucking place, this apocalyptic nightmare, you still somehow manage to blossom in the sun.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #tlou #the last of us #tlou fic #joel miller #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal universe #happy st paddys day #lmao #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #x reader #pedrostories #pedrohub #irish in my fics? you fucking bet

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