#after the last drabble

[lalacliffthorne]

just a sweet little modern!roommate!Azriel drabble to pull your heartstrings and make you feel all the feels.

“What are you doing?”

The rough voice, quiet and hoarse with sleep, made me jump, and I almost squeaked, my head whipping up as my eyes widened, and my heart jumped into my throat, only this time not because I was startled.

Azriel was standing in the door, squinting into the light of the small lamp next to the couch. His brows were drawn together, his eyes looking like honey in the warm sheen as he ran a hand through his rumpled dark hair, and my breath hitched softly.

It really was unfair that someone could look this good in just a hoodie and pyjama pants.

Blinking, I turned my gaze back towards my laptop, breathing out as I rubbed my eyes that were burning a little.

“I'm going over my paper; I don't know, it's just not how I want it to be.” I dragged a hand down the side of my face, propping my elbow onto my knee as I stared tiredly at the screen.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Azriel move, his steps soundless as he slowly started to walk past the couch.

“It's almost 2 am.” His quiet, still raspy voice made my skin tingle, something rushing in my stomach when his brows furrowed further, and I exhaled softly.

“I know, I just –“

Azriel crouched down next to me, and the rest of the sentence I wasn't even sure I could've formed got stuck in my throat when he stared at me, eyes tired, the little golden specks in his iris shimmering in the warm light as they dragged over my face.

Breathing out, Azriel ran a hand over his face, turning his head to stare at the screen. The blueish light made the line of his jaw look even sharper than usual, his face all angles and soft looking lips.

“You know, you might be more likely to figure it out when you're not almost falling asleep on the spot anymore.” His low, quiet voice heavy with sleep made my heart skip, but not as much as the way his arm pressed against the side of my thigh when he shifted on the spot, leaning against the couch as he stared at me tiredly, eyes soft.

“You know, that is kinda rich coming from you.” I tried to suppress the urge to rub over my eyes again as I stared at the screen, and Azriel huffed, but it looked like his lips quirked a little as his eyes dragged over my face.

“Maybe, but I'm not the one who needs nine hours of sleep a day to function properly.” There was a teasing tilt to his deep voice that almost made me whimper, the urge to just flop sideways and into him almost unbearable. But I reigned myself in.

I really needed to figure out how get a hold of myself when it came to him, or one of these days, I wouldn't think and do something stupid.

I grimaced half-heartedly at him, earning me a curve of his lips that made something in my chest tumble gently like even my heart was too tired to react like it usually did when it came to Azriel.

Silence settled over the living room again as I stared at the laptop, my fingers moving over the mousepad as I forced my eyes to not droop and Azriel watched me tiredly, his gaze moving towards the laptop and back towards me. Then he shifted, and I parted my lips when he reached out and carefully slipped the laptop out from under my hand.

“What –“

Azriel placed the device on the couch next to me, saving my work before turning it off and closing it, and I just stared at him, feeling tiredness wash over me.

“What are you doing?”

Azriel pushed himself to his feet heavily before leaning down, and my heart skipped softly when his warm, rough fingers wrapped around mine, squeezing as he tugged me to my feet.

“I'm getting you to bed.”

I breathed out. Now that the laptop was shut, tiredness suddenly washed over me, and I blamed it on the fact that suddenly my whole body seemed to be shutting down that I mumbled without any sort of hesitation: “Shouldn't you buy me dinner first?”

Azriel huffed, but his lips were curving upwards lightly when he gently pulled me past the couch before turning me around, his warm hands pressing onto my shoulders and beginning to push me towards the door, switching off the lamp in passing.

“You know you don't actually have to walk me, right?” Tipping my head back and resting it against his chest, only because it suddenly felt as heavy as my eyelids, I blinked up at Azriel, and one corner of his lips rose as he looked down at me, his face even upside down the most beautiful thing in the world.

“And risk you just turning around and sneaking back?”

I grumbled softly before forcing my head away from his chest, and Azriel opened the door to the bathroom, gently guiding me over the threshold and turning on the lights. Breathing out, I rubbed my eyes and trudged over to the sink, Azriel's hands slipping off my shoulders. My heart skipped softly when he stepped into the bathroom as well, closing the door.

“You don't have to stay, you know.” I sent him a soft, teasing smile as I sluggishly reached for my cleansing milk, and Azriel moved past me, his arm brushing against my back before he plopped onto the closed toilet lid and leaned back until he was slouched against the wall.

“I know.”

I stared at him in the mirror for a second, and something started gently fluttering against my ribs when he just stared back, sleepy and calm.

Breathing out, I started my evening routine, my movements slightly sluggish from tiredness, my eyes drooping a little. I could feel Azriel's gaze, never leaving me as I cleansed my face and put on toner and cremes. He didn't even look away when my eyes caught his in the mirror, just staring back, quiet and clearly tired, causing my heart to skip gently.

Taking my toothbrush and the toothpaste, I raised my head when I heard the rustle of clothes, and Azriel got to his feet.

Something tightened a little in my chest. The next second, I cursed myself for it; because the poor guy was up at 2 in the morning because of me and I felt sad because he had decided that he had seen enough to know that I was almost falling asleep on my feet and that he didn't have to worry about me going back to work instead of going to sleep –

My eyes darted up when fingers brushed over my hair, and my heart stumbled, staggering at the sight in the mirror of Azriel right behind me, so close his chest was almost pressing against my shoulders, towering over me and looking so beautifully soft in the warm light that I almost missed him reaching for my brush.

My breath hitched.

“Az, you don't –“

“If you keep going at this pace, we'll still be here by the time the sun comes up,”, Azriel mumbled, but there was no heat behind his words, his lips curved far enough for the hint of a crease to form in his cheek when he carefully pulled the ties out of my braids. “Just brush your teeth. I got you.”

I stared at him, stared as something rose in my chest and I felt pressure behind my eyes, my breath faltering.

Suddenly I felt the urge to burst into tears.

Somehow, I tore my gaze away from Azriel's face, trying to swallow against the tightness in my throat and dropping my head as he started to carefully undo my braids. His fingers ran through my hair, gently untangling any formed knots, and I had to keep myself from squeezing my eyes shut.

By the time I finished brushing my teeth, Azriel had combed through my hair, mumbling soft apologies whenever the brush was tugging at a knot. Leaning past me to place it back on the shelf, my heart staggering when his chest pressed against my back and I could feel the warmth of his body seeping through his hoodie, he straightened back up, gently plucking at a strand of hair falling onto my shoulder.

“Ready?”, he mumbled, his voice quiet, and I nodded, because I was sure my own would break if I tried to reply.

Azriel took a step back, and I turned around, moving past him. He followed me as I dragged myself down the hall and into my room. The curtains were already drawn, and my bed looked so inviting and comforting that I just stripped out of my joggers, leaving them on the floor where I had stepped out of them before plopping onto the mattress.

There was a soft, deep chuckle, and my blanket was tugged out from under me, thrown over my body. My heart staggered gently, and when I laboriously turned around, eyes already beginning to close like they had just waited for this, Azriel crouched down next to my bed, tucking the blanket around my shoulders as I snuggled into my pillow, cracking open one eye to stare at him tiredly.

“Thank you,”, I whispered softly, and one corner of Azriel's lips rose, his eyes twinkling softly in the half light coming from the hall. Then he reached out, and something stuttered in my chest when he gently pulled the hood of my sweatshirt out from where it was half tucked under the blanket, easing the strain on my throat. He carefully straightened it, then he pulled his hand back, and his thumb brushed over my cheek.

“Do I have to stay here and make sure you're not jumping out of bed in ten minutes because you had an idea?”

My breath hitched, and I blamed it on being tired and without a filter and him just being too beautiful that I mumbled: “Yes.”

For a second, I expected Azriel to chuckle and wish me a good night, to get up and leave. Maybe I even wished for it, because what on earth had I been thinking –

Azriel's eyes dragged over mine. Then he blinked and gently nudged my side. “Scoot.”

I stared at him, stared as my heart suddenly thumped against my ribs. But Azriel just pushed himself to his feet and moved over to the door, closing it carefully. Then his dark shape returned to the bed, and feeling my breath hitch, I shuffled back, something beginning to rise and flutter violently in my chest as I made space. A second later, the mattress dipped as Azriel sat down and tugged up my blanket to move under it. I held onto it so it wouldn't slip away from me when he turned to lay down on his side, breathing out comfortably, and his warmth washed over me, mixed with a wave of his cologne as I could feel his body settle only inches away from mine, big and warm and solid and causing my heart to tremble in my chest. Then it stopped.

Simply stilled in my chest when Azriel slid an arm around my waist and tugged me forward until we were chest to chest, legs pressed together and his hand slipping up my back so he could wrap his arm around me and tuck me into his chest.

I dug my fingers into the soft material of his hoodie, his scent filling my lungs as I tried to keep my breathing even and my sleepmuddled mind could only focus on him. Him and his solid chest and delicious scent and even breathing and heavy arm draped over me, and something fluttered in my chest as warmth washed over me and all the tension melted out of my body. My shoulders sagged, hunching forward into his chest, and my fingers uncurled, arms relaxing as my hand slipped over his chest until it rested over his heart and I buried myself in his chest.

Breathing out, I felt my eyes slowly drop close, and Azriel's thumb started to steadily brush over my back. His nose nudged against the top of my head, then he mumbled, his quiet voice rumbling in the silent room: “Why's your mattress so fucking comfy?”

“Rhys bought a new one before I moved in.” My lips barely moved with my soft muttered words, my eyes already closed as I could feel sleep slowly take over my body. “Maybe he just likes me better.”

Azriel gently flicked the back of my head, and I smiled into his hoodie, slow and wide as something skipped against my ribs, and I thought I could feel Azriel's lips curve. Then he rested his chin on my head, drawing me closer, and sleep washed over me, gently pulling me away.

#this practically wrote itself after the last few days lol #azriel #az #azriel x reader #azriel drabble #azriel imagine #azriel x female!reader #azriel/reader #az x reader #az imagine #az/reader #acotar x reader #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acotar drabble #drabble #modern au #lalacliffthorne

[kooahae]

After Last Night: Work Visit

Read the previous drabble here.

Read the next drabble here.

Summary : something seems up with Jungkook so you go to his job to cheer him up.

Pairing: best friends to lovers, Jungkook X female reader 

Warnings: Fluff, Smut, Big d!ck koo, oral (m.receiving) use of good girl bc well that’s what he called her the first time, office Jk is hot to me- he’s still a simp, cursing, swallowing, deep throating, they're down bad for each other as always <3

Word count:  2.5K

A/N: Before we get a little angst we have this and one more fluff drabble coming out hopefully this week- if not I’ll do my best to lyk when. School is kicking my ass but yeah me and my angsty babies will have our moment. I promise. As always thanks for reading 🩵

Minors DNI

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Today has been so long! Jungkook is beyond exhausted. He didn’t really want to be in the office at all today on top of it. He’s gotten used to working only 2 days in the office, and three at home due to his routine. The thought alone of his routine being disturbed pissed him off. Plus, He has been in serious work mode all week. He hasn’t even been able to just cuddle on the couch. You’ve been asleep the last 2 nights when he got home as well. You cuddle up to him like usual when he climbs into bed but damn, he’d do anything to just have a lazy day and not be in a rush to get up. 

Apparently, his employees can’t follow simple directions. He’s been stuck reprogramming a new app for what seems like forever. He swears if it didn’t pay the bills, and If he wasn’t so good at it- He’d find something else to occupy his time. He wishes he got paid for all the times you cross his mind, that would be a lot better than being here -and he’d be filthy rich! 

As Jungkook reaches into his pocket for his phone to call you, someone else rips his chance from him. 

You have got to be fucking kidding. 

“Oh, um..Mr. Jeon I just wanted to ask is it okay if I leave early today?” His assistant asks him. 

Jungkook has never been someone who was extremely strict. He knows he’s younger than most of the people working for him and he’s been cool about a lot of things because of that. However, that does not mean they can walk all over him. They take time away from you when they don’t do their job and also add more problems than solutions lately. He’s simply fed up. 

“Go into the meeting room and call everyone there please Duri.” He asks nicely, even though he doesn’t know why he keeps being so kind about it. 

“Oh…okay sir. Will do. But i-“

Jungkook really doesn’t care. He’s not trying to be mean but today has been a shit show. Things could be going better than this. That’s all he’s hoping for. 

“Duri…tell them they have thirty minutes. That means you too.” He points to the door, sitting his feet up on his desk. 

His assistant stares blankly, so Jungkook squints, points again and tilts his head. 

“By the time you’re done looking at me…There will be zero minutes.” He exhales placing his hands behind his head, as he watches Duri run out.

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Today you’ve decided to bring Jungkook lunch, he seemed so sluggish this morning. He gave you your good morning kisses but you can tell something is up. He didn’t even remember his banana milk. You’ve seen him do a lot of unusual things, but this weirdly enough takes the cake. The last time you even remember him acting like this, was when he swore he bombed an exam -He got the top score in his class, but that’s not the point. Jungkook genuinely only acts like this when there’s more work than he wants to do, or he feels burnt out. You know him the same way you know yourself, if not better. You have been thinking about him heavily today as well. You both could use a day off after this week, but life isn’t always that kind, you’ll just have to make do with your idea today. 

You get dressed in a shirt of his since he likes you in them so much, a cute skirt and some shoes.  Food and banana milk in tow, making sure you feed Bam on the way out. 

Once you arrive you can hear him giving what may be a motivational speech in the conference room. Jungkook is so cool in your eyes. He has his own business at 23, which he started two years ago. His gym side-venture is thriving. You’re almost there with him but not quite yet, starting your own media company is in the works though, and it’s nice to have his support. It still amazes you how Jungkook can make his mind so quickly with business decisions. He’s really intelligent- that’s exactly what you love about him. 

You realize you’ve been just standing in the entryway like a creep daydreaming about your boyfriend so you continue to walk forward and get closer to the door. 

“Can someone explain to me why everyone thinks they can just leave early while I reprogram everything? “

Oh. That’s why he’s so tired. 

You take note that no one responded, so there’s no reason he should have been left to do everything. He’s absolutely right. Your poor baby. you know how much of a perfectionist he is as well. He deserves some rest too though.  You decide to keep listening. 

“We’re supposed to be a team so I treat you fairly but this isn’t fair…I have someone waiting at home for me too.” He says. 

That person is you- and that makes your heart do backflips, the butterflies in your tummy rise, and a smile creep upon your face. You now know why he’s been so out of it lately. He’s doing a lot of hard work, barely gets as much time home as his employees and he just misses spending time with you. You’ll definitely visit work more when he can’t be at home with you if it makes him feel better.  You miss him too whenever you’re separated. It’s really refreshing to know he feels the same. 

As for Jungkook. His heart is kind of heavy. He knows it hasn’t been that long but he’s really been stressed out lately, the past two weeks at work have been hell and he feels like he can’t catch a break. He just needs to be with you, somewhere he can relax. With someone who is his comfort place. 

“Starting today we all do our delegated parts. I do mine. You do yours. We talk to each other about things beforehand that could affect other people’s schedules. Understood?” He asks. You can tell he doesn’t want to be that guy, but he also knows he’s been too nice until now. 

“If you do your part I don’t care what you do afterward if you wanna go home so be it. But finish your task.” 

He looks so withdrawn and tired. Watching everyone give him a head nod, you decide to just go sit in his office while he dismisses everyone. 

He walks in completely irritated and immediately starts patting for his phone but then looks up to see you. Sitting on the loveseat in his office. Smiling and waving hello to him. The sun from the window lightly shines on you. You look like what you are- his angel. 

“Hi, handsome!” You stand up and walk towards him. 

“You’re really here? Like I’m not going crazy because I missed you?” He says waving his hand in his own face. 

He’s always so silly. You hug his waist. Your face in his chest. He immediately hugs back. He doesn’t know how you knew he needed you, but he doesn’t care. He just appreciates the fact that you always show up for him. You always have. 

“No, but you’re checking your hand silly to make sure you’re real. Instead, you should be kissing me to make sure I’m real…” you say peaking your head up and poking your lips out. 

“You’re so cute. “ He says leaning down to kiss you. Cupping your face in his hand. Lips smacking gently against yours. His kisses are so soft and feel divine. 

“I’m. sorry. I’m. not. home. “ he says a kiss between every word. 

You pull away and look up at him he’s still holding your face so you place a hand on his forearm.

“Don’t apologize for working. I’m glad you stood up for yourself and I’m even happier to be here with you.” You say and lean back in for another kiss. 

“How am I so lucky?” He says as you both finally pull away. 

“Makes two of us! I brought you lunch and even brought my laptop too.…”

Jungkook sits in his office chair and you climb on his lap. Straddling him. 

He immediately reaches for the remote that closes the blinds. Not that anyone can see his office from where they sit but just in case they thought of approaching him. 

You wrap your arms around his neck. 

“If you’re gonna be bored and have to be here, let’s be bored and overworked, responsible people together…” You say leaving a kiss on his neck. 

“…I can rub your shoulders while you code. You can fill me in on everything I missed this week.” 

He hisses at the sensation of your neck kisses. Hands running up and down your sides. 

“I really missed you.” He says and puts a finger on your chin to tilt your head to his. Kissing you yet again. 

Then he continues. “Don’t want to work, just want to be with you” He’s always pouting, so you do what anyone would do in your situation-Pull his bottom lip in, and suck on it gently then let it go with a pop. 

That’s when an idea pops into your head. 

Jungkook’s office is spacious, and you can tell he needs to decompress, so maybe you’ll …

“Don’t work then, let me do it.” You say and push the chair back a little bit so you can stand up. 

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, “ Aren’t you supposed to do your work?”

“I will.” You say and he looks up at you. Standing in front of him with your head tilted- fucking cute, he also takes note of how you made sure to wear his shirt. 

“Baby you don’t really like coding… I tried teaching you before unless it’s a blog or something-“ you interrupt him. 

You place your hands on his thighs, hovering, still standing, and kissing him. 

“If I do a good job on it, we go home.” You state matter of factly. Almost like you’re making a deal, that you know you’ve won. 

He chuckles “Who’s work mine or yours?”

“Mmm it’s my task but…” Jungkook watches as your fingers dance closer to his crotch.  

“You’re the work.” You finish your statement dropping to your knees. 

You love the way he looks at you from above. Biting his lip and tilting his head slightly. 

Jungkook raises his hips so you can unfasten the button on his trousers.

“Gotta be quiet princess-oh shitt.” 

Jungkook’s head falls back as your hand strokes up and down his length. He knew he was the task- but if you’re about to suck him off here, his work day has had the best turn of events possible. 

“I’m gonna make you feel good, okay?” he nods breathlessly, It’s interesting how you both have the same effect on each other. 

“Don’t you always.” He says rolling his head forward to watch you. His mouth is drawn out into an ‘O’ shape, You know how much eye contact turns him on and you haven’t broken it yet. He looks fucked out and you’ve barely done anything. 

You spit on his dick and move your hands up, your pumps are perfect and have him bring his lip more and more at the sensation. 

“Babygirl, I think that’s enough teasing.”

You shake your head no and look up at him through your lashes. 

“How can you look at me like that knowing I’ll rip your clothes to shreds if -Fuck.”  You don’t mean to interrupt him. You promise. You just really notice all the precum oozing from his tip and can’t help but put your mouth on it. Sucking on the head of his dick like the good girl you’ve shown him you can be. He deserves it though

If you kept teasing him, you knew he would edge you non-stop later as well - and you’re already soaking through your panties. 

As you look up at Jungkook once more, you slide his entire length in your mouth at once, His shoulders relax and his hand comes to your hair and moves it out of your face. 

He has a thing for visuals, you happen to be his favorite.  

You rest at the base and keep your eyes on him as you bob up and down. Jungkook is massive, He’s really impressed that you can take him the way you do, and suck him so effortlessly. All of it makes him hard whenever he thinks about it. This is going to be engraved in his brain forever. 

You finally lift up and Jungkook watches the drool from your lips that’s attached to his cock as well. 

You moan at the sight of how red, swollen, and slobbery you have his dick, before going back in for more. 

Jungkook’s moans have been turning you on, he sounds so good and it’s making you never want to stop as you suck the soul out of him. 

You start to moan too, rubbing your thighs together for friction.  He just looks so fucking good!  You could cum from the visual in front of you as well

“Look at you sucking my dick like a good girl, so fucking pretty!” He says gripping your hair up more so he can enjoy his view. 

You go all the way down once more, then tighten your lips as you come back to the head of his dick, moaning so he feels the vibrations go down his shaft. 

“Just like that baby.” He says encouraging you. 

You continue deep throating him, watching his knees get weaker even though he’s in the chair, he looks like he’s barely holding on. Fully concentrating on the way he looks at you with lusty eyes but can’t contain his moans. 

Your hand starts palming his balls as you feel him deep in your throat. 

“Fuck baby girl, I’m gonna cum soon- oh my fucking god!” He’s trying his best to be quiet. You really hope his coworkers can’t hear him, but a part of you doesn’t care as long as he feels better. 

Jungkook is close and you nonverbally ask him with the look you give him for confirmation, just to double-check. He’s panting and can barely answer you. 

“Y-ye-yes baby.” He finally manages to muster out. 

You swirl your tongue up and down as you continue deep-throating him. It’s all so sloppy and messy. Your eyes are a little watery too, but you won’t stop until you swallow every last drop. 

“Fuck fuck fuck.” His chants and breathing are erratic which means…

Jungkook pushes your head all the way down and bites his lip, looking at you as he cums all down your throat. It’s so warm and thick. You moan and feel his hand slip from your hair to your neck as he pushes himself further one more time.

He pulls all the way out and you gasp but stick your tongue out to show him you’ve swallowed every last drop. 

You rise to your feet and sit on his desk, but he stands all the way up and towers over you. Lips brush across yours before he leans into your neck and leaves a kiss right below your ear lobe. 

“I’d love to bend you over here but let’s go home. I want to hear you scream.”

 You don’t have to be told twice! 

So back home you go- the both of you. 

Taglist : @joyfulwobblerhoagieegg @diorh0seokie @jennafromhome @taesungx @kimber-kook @whoa-jo @kaiparkerwifes @yoonglesbby07 @bangtansoneyondanfan

#jungkook smut #jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook x you #aln x kooahae #after last night x kooahae #aln #aln: the drabbles #bangtan smut

[catfern]

cowboy!ellie, who gives you her hat on a warm, beating day.

the sun tearing through the open sky, and you, hastily and poorly packed. she’d rather her head burn than yours. and it wasn’t like it was anything special. badly stitched leather, worn within an inch of it’s life. once a warm, chocolate brown, beaten and driven down to the raw cowhide underneath, held together by late-night repairs, chipped away with age. it was nothing if not unworthy of you.

but, there was something else entirely. your smile hiding underneath the brim, hints of ellie shadowed you. the smell of her elderflower soap, weak but persistent, trailing your hairline and gracing you when you laughed. the musk of whiskey, and the rolled cigarette smoke that had settled deep, unmoving, in the stitching. it made her gaze wildfire, a stretching extension of ownership. however she was, you now were.

cowboy!ellie, who smells herself on your neck, and in your hair. cowboy!ellie, who wants to see herself everywhere, feel herself all over you.

cowboy!ellie, who wants to devour you.

her fingers are rough, unkind. stretching you out with the tips, indulging in you, feeling you breathe around the intrusion. how strange it was, to be at the heart of you, to feel your pulse underneath her, your slick walls clenching around her as if to name her the centre of your world. maybe she was.

‘i’m so kind to you, aren’t i? lettin’ you look pretty in my things.’

she whispers in a haze of fog, ghosting your neck, your collarbone, your chest. heavy with liquor and campfire smoke, her kiss brands you, leaves you drowning in her scent, unescaping. she takes her time with you, desperation damned, exploring every inch of you with the calloused points of her fingers. her prize, hers. she pulls from you, and you writhe, and you beg, impatient.

ellie feels along the curves of your hips with her hands, dragging your slick across your body. you shiver, pleading with her,

‘ellie, ellie, please, god.’

but she’s too lost, enamoured and bewitched, too focused on her own discovery of you. otherworldly, to hear her name fall from you in that way. more. she needed to hear it again. 

again, again, pounding a rhythm into you, her name among the blasphemy falling from your lips like a song. feeling you clench around her, feeling how much you needed her, it only drove her. she enveloped you, one hand grasping the softness of your thigh, her whole body rocking above you with each thrust, ‘c’mon, darlin’, that’s it.’

you couldn’t pinpoint the extent of the heat, sitting in your stomach. a twisted, burning knot, filling you, searing her. she’s unrelenting, still, chasing those sounds that she pulls from you, her name, depraved and compliant in your voice. even after you clench around her, flooding her with velvet slick, and fall into the bed, heavy and dumb on her fingers, she continues, desperate to hear you.

‘lookin’ so pretty, flower. y’should wear my hat more often, suits you.’

#daydreaming abt riding around w ellie #robbing a bank maybe? sex after? #need to hear her swear at me w that accent #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams drabble #ellie williams #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x y/n

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Seek

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Divorcee! Reader

Summary: You are forced to share your hiding spot with one incorrigible cretin—Joel Miller. But, maybe that’s not so bad.

Word Count: 8,369

Warnings: 18+ Only, Fluff, Comedy, Shameless Smut, Breeding, Pre-Outbreak, Intoxication, Fluff, MINORS DNI!

A/N: a little peek at the night Joel and the Reader first got together. AKA that time Sarah played matchmaker with two grown adults. 😂 enjoy! divider is by @firefly-graphics​

“Hello, neighbor.” The low, sultry drawl, makes you swallow tightly. Oh God. You’re glad your hands are stuck wrist deep in the dirt, otherwise they’d be shaking. You take a few tries to school your features into what you hope is a casual smile, and not a grimace of abject panic as you glance over your shoulder at him. 

 “Hey, Joel.” Your ruggedly handsome neighbor leans against the fence, folding his thickly corded forearms over the pickets. You offer him the sincerest smile you can muster. God his fucking sleeves are rolled up—you fight the urge to ruin it by sinking your teeth into your lower lip. His eyes flick down, and then back up to your face. 

 “You doin’ some gardenin’?” You don’t know why, but the quirk of his lips makes your stomach knot.  

“Y-yeah. W-well, you know. I thought I’d get outside today, since it’s been raining so much.” You say, sticking the spade into the dirt as you turn to face him. You’re acutely aware of the mud on the hem of your yellow sundress now, and you know he must see it too. Goddammit. You feel like every time you talk to him you embarrass yourself—especially now. Nervously and out of habit, you touch your thumb to your ring finger through the gloves, feeling its absence. 

 Before, at least, you’d had Howard as a buffer, though Joel had never much seemed to like your husband. Ex-husband.

  “Mm, yeah. Hopin’ it stays nice, you know Sarah’s birthday’s on Saturday,” He says, tapping his fingers thoughtfully against the pickets. “Comin’ up fast.” 

 “Oh yeah,” you say, nodding with a smile. “I’ll have to bring something over. Wait—she doesn’t do dolls anymore, right? She’s too old for that now.” 

 “Dolls? Damn kid’s asking me for a phone,” Joel mutters darkly, smoothing a frustrated hand down his face. “A phone.” You can’t help but laugh. “Anyway, I wanted to, you know, let you know you’re invited. Whole neighborhood is, we’ll have games and food. The works.” 

 “Oh, sure!” You’re not sure why you’re nervous. It’s not a special invitation, it’s open to the entire block. Still, you feel an apprehensive sort of giddiness growing in your tight stomach when he smiles at you encouragingly. 

“I’d love to come, I’ll um, I’ll bake something.” You pass your tongue over your lips, and Joel’s eyes follow the movement,  lingering before his eyes dart back up to yours. Imagining things. You’re definitely imagining things. You’d have to be—you’re a thirty-something year old divorcee with little to show for it other than the fixer-upper Howard had been glad to leave you. You’re not hot-single-neighbor material. 

 “That’ll be great.” He fixes you with another boyish smile and you hate the way your stupid stomach tightens when he does. “Sarah loves your apple crumble.” You try to hide your bashful smile behind one of your gardening gloves. 

 “Joel Miller, you know better than to lie to me over my own fence,” you chide, and he chuckles. 

 “Yes ma’am I do,” he says, winking at you as the corners of his full lips turn up underneath the mustache. “That’s why I told the truth.” You cluck your tongue at him, and begin gathering your gardening tools into the wide wicker basket you keep them in. You heft them up with a grunt, and he shakes his head. 

“Looks heavy. Let me give you a hand.” Before you can protest, he’s jogging around to the spot where your fences meet, and slipping in through the open gate. 

 “I-I can handle it,” you protest meekly as he holds out one calloused hand, beckoning with his fingers. You step back a little defensively, hesitating. “I carried it all the way out here from the shed by myself.” Joel merely raises an eyebrow and lifts his hand a little higher.  

 “I know, Sugar. You’re a big girl, you can do it all by yourself,” he says in that filthy smooth baritone. “Doesn’t mean you have to.” Flustered, you let him have the basket, brushing hopelessly at your dress as you follow him to the backyard shed. 

 “Well, it’s just me, so,” you scurry forward to pull open the door, and you watch him place the basket on the dusty work table. You’re not much of a crafts person, beyond the occasional gardening DIY, so it’s gone mostly unused since Howard moved out. 

 “I’m real sorry about that, by the way,” Joel says, dusting his hands off on his jeans. The look of pity on his face makes you shift uncomfortably. “But I can’t exactly say that I’m sorry he’s gone.” You laugh. The sound is brittle. Like my marriage was.

 “Don’t be.” Joel’s fingers trail across Howard’s old work-bench, leaving lines in the dust as he inspects it. 

 “Oh, hey,” Joel says, leaning over. He reaches underneath bench and pulls something bright yellow out from underneath it. “Speak of the devil,” he mutters. After a confused second of squinting, you realize it’s a staple-gun. “Knew he never returned this.” Your face burns with embarrassment as you pinch the bridge of your nose. The result, no doubt, of one of Howards many unfinished DIY projects, the ones you always seemed to end up cleaning up and finding space for in the basement. 

 “God, he’s not even here and Howard’s still embarrassing me,” you say. “I’m sorry, I would have given it back if I’d known.” You watch Joel shake his head.

 “That’s not on you. Besides, I’ve got it back now, so. No harm, no foul.” He tucks it into the waistband of his jeans before stepping out of the little shed and closing the door behind him. He smiles at you again, and you swear the only thing keeping you from melting into a puddle of jelly is the force of your will alone. 

“You let me know if there’s anything around the house that needs doing. You cleaned your gutters since Howard left?” He asks, and your face burns again as you hurriedly shake your head. 

 “N-no,” you admit. “But you really—I don’t want to put you to the trouble, Joel.”

 “S’no trouble.” He says with a wink, heading for the back gate. “I’ll be by tomorrow. You’ve got a ladder, don’t you, Sugar?”

 —

 You’re in your pajamas when Joel shows up, bright and early. The sound of the doorbell jolts you up from the kitchen table, where you’d positioned yourself so that you could see the television through the doorway. Watching the morning news rather mindlessly while you had your coffee was your new morning routine, and though it felt a little lonely and empty, it was certainly better than screaming matches with Howard about how inadequate of a wife you were to him, so you relished it. 

 You realize belatedly that the tie for your robe is upstairs as you’re fumbling with the locks, pulling open the door with an exasperated Hello before you realize exactly who’s on the other side of your front door. 

 “Howdy, neighbor.” That southern twang—the one you don’t have—is like syrup, each syllable running smoothly into the next as it slides pleasurably into your ears. You’re sure the heat rising in your chest and neck is due to your own embarrassment as you unsuccessfully try to tug the flaps of your robe shut with one hand. It’s definitely not because Joel is looking at me funny. 

 “J-Joel, I—morning,” you say, tucking stray strands of hair behind your ears self consciously as you offer him an apologetic smile. “I didn’t, um. I didn’t know you’d be over so early. I thought you, um. Liked to get a, a late start in the mornings.” 

 “That’s true,” he says, nodding as he tucks his thumbs into his belt loops. “But I can get up for the important things.” He rocks forward on to the balls of his feet, the leather on his boots creaking. “So, Sugar, where’s that ladder?” You feel warm when he looks at you, so warm you’re surprised steam isn’t whistling out of your ears like a kettle. 

 “In the, um, in the shed.” You turn to head back into the house, but stop. “Do you need me to—” He meets the glance you shoot him over your shoulder with a stern lift of his brow. 

 “I got it. You go on and enjoy your coffee, now.” Joel tips his head at you, and then reaches forward to pat you just above your hip. “Go on. Scoot.” 

 The screen door swings shut behind you as you turn smartly to do as you’re told, and it’s only when you’re two steps into the kitchen that you realize your hip is still warm from where he touched you. You shiver. 

 Joel’s just friendly.

 You repeat that back to yourself dozens of times as you shower, dress, and ready yourself for the day. It’s embarrassing, but you don’t have much to do now that you don’t have Howard to pick up after. Stay-at-home-wife was just another word for nanny to him, and now, five years into your marriage and ten months post divorce, you’re still struggling to find a way to fill your time. You can live off the alimony, sure, but you want something more meaningful to do, even if it doesn’t pay much. 

 Joel is still up on the roof by the time you come back downstairs, but you aren’t down there long before you hear him tapping at the kitchen window. You unlock the back door, and the sight of Joel leaned up against your doorframe greets you when you open it. He’s busy toeing off his muddy workboots, but he glances up at you with a lopsided smile. 

 “Mind if I clean off? I’ve got to head to the site after this.” 

 “Totally, sure, um, you remember where the bathroom is?” You ask, and he nods. 

 “Down the hall to the right, innit?” He asks over his shoulder, and you nod. His arms and cheek are splattered with the same muck that you assume has been clogging your gutters, and you feel even guiltier knowing he has to head to his actual job after this. Where are my manners? You ask yourself guiltily, hurrying to fetch a glass from the cabinet. You don’t have any food you can offer him, but you go for the peach iced tea in the fridge and pour him a tall glass. He’d come over and done hard work for you, and you hadn’t even offered him something to drink. 

 Shameful, your grandmother’s shrill voice hisses at you through your memories. Just shameful. No wonder you couldn’t keep a man. With your teeth set into your bottom lip, you head for the hallway, intending to head Joel off before he gets to the front door. 

 You aren’t expecting to crash headlong into him.

 “Shit!” You curse as cold tea splashes against your chest and the glass in your fingers tumbles to the rug. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t get you, did I?” You look guiltily up at Joel and your heart seizes in your chest. He’s shirtless in your hallway, his face and chest damp and his t-shirt balled up in one fist. Logically, you know it’s because he obviously can’t go to work covered in gutter-crap, but you can’t think about that now, not when you’re following the happy trail starting at his belly button all the way down the waistband of his pants and God fucking dammit I’m staring like a creep—

 “No, Sugar. All dry,” he laughs, interrupting the rambling chain of your thoughts. “Can’t say the same for you.” He gestures down at your shirt before shrugging into his own. “Was that sweet tea?” Joel asks, a mournful note in his voice. 

 “Yes—let me get you another glass,” you say quickly, bending over to pick up the fallen glass before you rush back into the kitchen. Clumsy, stupid—you put it carefully in the sink before fetching a fresh cup from the cabinet, and you fill that one too. “Joel, I—oh.” You turn to call him into the kitchen, only to find him right behind you. His smile is slow syrup the way his voice is, and you find yourself feeling like a knock-kneed teenager at the sight of it. 

 “That for me?” Joel asks, and you nod wordlessly, unable to form words around the hot lump of embarrassment that forms in your throat. “Thank you, Sugar,” he purrs, plucking the glass from your limp fingers. “I was powerful thirsty.” He tips his head back, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob beneath the scruff of his beard as he swallows. 

You’re grateful for the refrigerator against your back, because you know you’d slide right down to your tasteful linoleum tiles in a heap without it when he lets out a satisfied moan. He swipes the back of his hand across his mouth, and then chases the stray droplets with his tongue. 

 “Should bring a whole pitcher of that by the house when you come by on Saturday. Folks’ll go crazy for it.” 

 Your brain is still short circuiting from his closeness, the smell of his cologne,       the sight of his tanned, perfect chest—so you just nod dumbly, your lips slightly parted as you stare. Closing mouth in three, two, one—

 “Uh, um. Yeah. Tea.” Jesus fuck, why is my mouth so dry? You stumble over the words, feeling like there are a hundred glass marbles in your mouth as you try to pronounce them properly. “So, um. Saturday?”

 “Saturday.” Joel hands you back the glass, and winks. “Don’t drop it this time.” He pauses in the doorway, tapping his hand against the frame a few times. “And you’ll let me know when I can come by to cut that grass, wontcha, Sugar? Needs mowin’.” 

 I absolutely will not. “Sure thing. I-I mean, you don’t have to, really—”

 “Just bein’ neighborly is all,” he calls over his shoulder as the screen door swings shut behind him. You watch the top of his head go by the kitchen window before you slump against the refrigerator. 

 “Neighborly.” You mutter in disbelief, pinching the bridge of your nose. You make your way back upstairs to change your shirt—the tea is starting to get sticky against your skin. 

 —

 By the time Saturday rolls around, you’ve almost talked yourself completely out of attending. 

 You should not be this nervous about am eleven year old’s birthday party, you chastise yourself, shifting from foot to foot as you wait for someone to answer the door. There’s music coming from the backyard, and you can smell food, and the charcoal from the grill. You step back a little as the door opens, and you’re both surprised and relieved to see it isn’t Joel. And you’re glad for it, considering you’ve been studiously avoiding him. 

 Sarah greets you with a friendly smile, waving you inside. “Mrs. Leeman, hi!” She closes the door behind you. “Thank you for coming! You didn’t have to do that,” she says, gesturing at the covered apple crumble and sealed jug of peach tea in your hands. Sarah moves to take one from you, and you hand over the jug gratefully. “But this is way better than the cake uncle Tommy got. He went to Penny Saver.” 

 You laugh. “You’re welcome. I wasn’t exactly sure what to get you,” you admit, “but your dad said you’ve been wanting a phone?” You ask, and she rolls her eyes, starting towards the kitchen. You’ve only been here once or twice, to use the bathroom the few times Howard had deigned to take part in any neighborhood festivities. She sets the jug on the table. 

 “Ugh, yeah. But he says I’m too young.” 

 You lean in conspiratorially. “Well, how about I join team get Sarah a phone and try to help convince him, huh?” Carefully, you place the crumble on the table. “I’ll pay for your first month.” 

 Sarah’s eyes brighten. “Really? Yeah, oh my God that might actually work! Thanks, um, Mrs. Leeman. And for the crumble too, I asked special.” 

 “Just ‘Ms’, now,” you say with a little laugh. Sarah’s smile widens a little, turning up at the corners like she knows something you don’t know. And it isn’t Leeman anymore, either.  

 “Oh, right. I’m sorry,” she says, and you can tell she’s really trying to pour on the sincerity. She’s good—but she’s not that good. “I forgot you’re single now.” You quirk an eyebrow.

 “Yeah?” You answer slowly. “Kind of a weird way to put it, but yes?” You chalk it up to teenage awkwardness, watching amusedly as Sarah plucks the candles out of the admittedly generic cake Tommy bought, and presses them into the crumble instead. 

 “Everybody’s outside,” she chirps, wiping her hands off on her jeans. “Uncle Tommy, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, my dad,” she adds. “You should totally go say hi.” Casting another suspicious glance at Sarah, you make your way over to the back door. Once your eyes adjust to the bright summer sun, you see that Joel’s backyard is chaos; every kid in the neighborhood is there, along with most of the families in your corner of the cul-de-sac.

 You pretend you don’t immediately spot Joel on the grill, his sleeves rolled up as he chats with his brother. You’ve only met Tommy once or twice and only in passing, but you remember him just fine. Your eyes meet, and he leans over, elbowing Joel. He says something too, but you’re too far away to hear it. Joel begins to turn around, and you hurriedly busy yourself at the punch bowl. 

 God, this is pathetic. You berate yourself as you spoon out punch into a little paper cup. Just say hi, you stupid idiot. You feel stupid and giddy around Joel, like a middle-schooler with her first crush only worse, because you’re two decades past the expiration date on this behavior. Not to mention he’s your neighbor. 

And God knows you aren’t the best at reading signals—it had taken you years to realize that your marriage, your relationship, was dead in the water. Joel isn’t interested, he can’t be. At most, you assume he feels a sort of half hearted pity for you. I’m like the one-eyed cat at the shelter.

 “Hey there Judy, thanks for comin’.” You hear Joel’s voice behind you, and you tense—He’s coming this way. You chance a glance over your shoulder and swallow audibly. He’s making a beeline right for you. Is it too late to go back inside? You know the thought is futile, it’s most certainly far too late for that. 

 “Hi, I mean, you know, welcome to the party,” he says, putting his hands in his pockets after an awkward moment of holding them out, almost like he was going to hug you and then thought better of it. 

 “Yeah, Sarah was…enthusiastic about the cake.” You’re trying to think of a word to describe her weird behavior. “Maybe a little too much,” you laugh a little. Joel shakes his head and mutters something under his breath you can’t quite make out—“damn kid sticking her nose in where it doesn’t—” Before he shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck. 

 “Kid’s a mystery to me sometimes,” he replies with a huff. He squints, like he’s looking for her in the crowd. You follow his line of sight right to Sarah, laughing with her friends. 

 “She’s a good one.”

 “Lord knows,” Joel sighs. “I was raising hell at her age.” He turns back to you. “I’m really glad you could make it.” His smile is so bright you’re forced to look somewhere else, for fear of going weak in the knees. 

 “N-no problem. I’m, um, I’m happy to get out of the house,” you admit. “I’ve been kind of… I don’t know. Bored? Since Howard left.” You look down at the punch cup in your hands. “Is that weird? I don’t miss him or anything, I just… I guess I never realized how much time he was taking. Wasting.” You shake your head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t—”

 “No, no, please,” Joel looks at you almost imploringly. “I don’t mind.” He leans against the table behind you. “I’ve been there. Losing yourself is surprisingly easy. It’s the finding yourself after that’s hard.” 

 “Yeah,” you nod. “Yeah, exactly.” 

 “Listen I—”

 “Joel, you wanna serve burnt burgers or what?” Tommy calls from the grill, pointing at the thick smoke curling up from it. Joel curses.

 “Dammit, Tommy—I’ll be right back.” 

 He’s surprisingly easy to talk to, and you swallow back the unexpected disappointment at the interruption. It’s probably a good thing though, you think to yourself as you spy Tricia Gibbins, also newly divorced, eyeing you with a scowl. 

 You offer her a weak smile in response, before turning back to your drink. Joel’s a hot commodity, and you know you’re not the only single woman in the neighborhood with eyes. Joel has an easy sort of confidence about him, the kind that comes from working with your hands and being good at it. The kind that isn’t unearned. 

 As Joel averts the crisis at the grill, you mingle. Chatting up the neighbors you haven’t really seen since the divorce. It’s awkward at first, but you get over that quickly enough. It’s oddly comforting, feeling like you’re part of the community at large again, instead of the weird shut-in with the mean husband. Oddly, Joel keeps finding reasons to be close to you, joining in the conversations you’re having as he sidles up next to you, offering to refresh your drink each time you finish it. And when he brings out the crumble from the kitchen—much to Tommy’s chagrin—he thanks you specifically for providing it, and your cheeks heat as you duck your head, embarrassedly enduring the round of applause that follows. 

 If Gibbins didn’t hate me already, she definitely does now.

 You help cut and serve it, trying to ensure each partygoer at least has the option of having a piece. As Sarah wolfs down her piece after blowing out her candles, she and her friends share a conspiratorial look. 

 “We were thinking of playing a party game, dad,” she says, cocking her head at him. “Kids versus grown-ups.” Joel takes a sip of his beer, cocking his head skeptically. 

 “And what game would that be, young lady?”

 “Manhunt! Come on, dad, please? Everyone really wants to play!” Sarah gestures eagerly at the gaggle of kids behind her, pushing and shoving and giggling nervously as the adults look them over. Sarah rocks excitedly back and forth on her tip-toes as her father debates it. Sarah looks at you imploringly. 

“Please? Last game of the night, I promise! You’ll play, won’t you?” 

 “Ah hell,” Tommy curses, finishing his beer before slinging the empty bottle into the trash-can by the picnic table. “Why not? Used to play this all the time growin’ up.” He casts a nostalgic look at Joel before elbowing Sarah conspiratorially. “Every summer I used to whoop your daddy’s—”

 “No lying to the girl on her birthday, Tommy,” Joel replies with a chuckle, and you laugh too. “Fine then. Who all’s playin’?” Hands go up, all across the yard, and Joel nods as he takes stock of them. Howard would have insisted on leaving right about now, your charitable appearance over and done with. But Howard isn’t here to make the decision for you, and you find yourself raising your own hand, too. Perhaps it’s the warm buzz of the beer settling into your stomach making you foolish, but it’s a warm summer evening and you feel… good. 

 “Ground rules—nobody leaves the block, understand? No hidin’ in strangers yards.” Joel delivers the rules sternly. “

 “We were thinking… we’ll seek. Time limit?” Sarah asks, suddenly all business as she leans back to consult her friends, now apparently her war-council. 

 “Thirty minutes.” Joel replies, holding out his hand. Sarah shakes it exaggeratedly, grinning at him. She holds up two fingers, gesturing between the two of them. “And you’ve got to find everybody to win.” 

 “Yeah, yeah, old man,” She calls over her shoulder as she jogs toward her friends. “You’re going down!” They’re all clustered around the side of the house, some of them already counting. You’re already thinking of the perfect hiding place, where the rosebushes meet on the left side of your porch—it’s impossible to see from the sidewalk. The participating adults are already splitting up, heading in different directions to try and outlast their children. 

 Giggling, you hurry back across the street, casting a suspicious glance around before you duck down behind your rosebushes. It’s silly, you know, but… it feels good too. Like you’re actually enjoying yourself instead of pretending to. Howard never would have approved of this—These are children’s games, come on—but he isn’t here, and you don’t need him to. The thought makes you practically giddy; Howard is gone, gone! 

 And he isn’t coming back.

 You lean back against the porch, ducking lower as you hear the sound of approaching voices. As you reach back to steady yourself, your hand brushes against another. You gasp, loudly, and whirl around to see Joel, looking equally surprised. It looks like he’s come around from the opposite side of the house, staying low underneath the roses, just like you. You open your mouth to speak, but he holds up a finger, pointing behind you. 

 “I heard something! I think one of the grown-ups is hiding over here.” You wait with baited breath to be discovered, but the gangly teenager on the other side of the bush doesn’t come all the way up the porch steps, stopping halfway. 

“Whatever, I don’t see anybody. Let’s look by the Simmons’ place!”

 The sound of your gravel crunching under sneakers gradually recedes, and you let out a heavy sigh of relief. 

 “Sorry. I didn’t know you were there,” you whisper apologetically, and Joel laughs. 

 “Well you know. Great minds, and all that.” He scoots closer. “Do you mind? I can risk finding another spot if you do.” 

 “No, no,” you say, shaking your head. Maybe it’s the beers, making you foolishly confident, but you… want him to stay. “There’s room enough for the two of us.” 

 “You’re damn right there is,” Joel replies. “Grass is tall enough that we could stand in it.” You pretend to be shocked, raising a cartoonishly offended hand over your heart. 

 “Oh, is that how it is, Miller?” You ask. “You come over here, barge into my hiding spot, and then insult my grass? I’m pretty sure them’s fighting words, around here at least.” He edges closer, close enough that when he settles down into a sitting position, his thigh presses against yours. 

 “It’s almost calf high, Sugar,” he says seriously. “That’s dangerous.” You try to look sufficiently scared, and Joel smothers a laugh behind one hand. 

 “Danger? Here?” You bring a hand to your cheek. “How dangerous are we talking?” He fixes you with a serious look, brows knitting together as he presses his full lips into a tight line. 

 “Very dangerous. Trip and falls, termites, biting ants—you know. Just to name a few things.” Joel is handsome, not a fact you’re unfamiliar with. But up this close… You can see the beginnings of salt and in his thick black hair, how his warm brown eyes are flecked with gold and green, the cinnamon spice of his breath—Fireball, he was drinking Fireball—

 And how soft his lips are when they brush against yours. 

 You’re not sure how long it takes you to realize that you’re kissing Joel Miller. Later, when you look back, you’ll realize there’s a gap in your memory, a skip, a blank space spanning from the moment his hip pressed against yours until you feel the warmth of his hand on your hip through your jeans. It’s a chaste thing, a simple press of his mouth to yours, but the realization of what’s happening makes you gasp, pulling away. For once, you’re speechless, the nervous ramble that usually accompanies these moments is notoriously absent. 

 Of course it’s Joel that speaks first. 

 “I been waitin’ to do that for six months.” He breathes. And then he leans forward, gently brushes a stray lock of hair from your face, and does it again. You release your death-grip on the latticework beneath the porch, and instead tangle your fingers in Joel’s t-shirt. He mumbles something against your lips that you don’t understand before deepening the kiss, sweeping his tongue into your mouth as you sigh against him. Joel tastes like cinnamon whiskey, hops, and faintly of tobacco—likely from the cigarette you’d seen him bum from Tommy in secret earlier. 

 He tastes so good you could cry. Like beer and warm summer evenings, like catching lightning bugs in jars. He tastes exactly like you thought he would. 

 When you part, you’re both panting, staring wild-eyed at one another as the rest of the world filters back in. Joel lets out a little laugh, resting his forehead against yours. You like how he smells, too, sandalwood and leather. 

 “Six months is a long time,” you say after a minute, and he laughs. Somehow, you feel both validated and incredibly stupid at the same time. “And here I thought you felt sorry for me.”

 “I did, being married to that prick,” he scoffs. “I hung over that fence every other day for six months, and you never thought—?”

 “No! I thought, you know, you… really wanted to mow my grass.” You answer defeatedly, and this time Joel’s booms in your ears so loud you fear the children will discover you. You laugh too, and when he pulls you close to kiss you a third time, you lean into it, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders as he pulls you practically into his lap. Your heart is pounding in your chest as you card fingers through his thick hair. You’re glad you’re sitting down, because the answering husky moan he releases would have brought you to your knees. 

 “Dad! Thirty-minutes!” The sound of Sarah’s voice shocks the two of you apart, and you scramble off of Joel, your cheeks burning. You peek through the rose bushes, pulling aside a bud to see Sarah, standing in the middle of the street. You snicker at the sight of her. She and her friends seem to have already rounded up the other adults, and, armed with water-guns, are escorting them back to the party. You can see that Tommy’s wet, and you wonder if he tried to outrun them. 

 “Time’s up,” she calls. “You guys win!” 

 “You stay here. I’ll go first.” Joel says with a wink. “I’ll see you back at the party, okay? And we’ll finish this… discussion.” He licks his lips. 

 You nod, not trusting your voice not to give out on you. You watch as Joel gets a very rules-illegal squirting with Sarah’s supersoaker, and you’re glad he took the bullet for both of you as they head into the backyard. Once you’re sure no one else is really watching, you creep out, brushing stray bits of grass and twigs from your clothes. Your face still feels warm, your lips tingling where Joel’s had met them. 

 There isn’t much “party” left when you let yourself in through the side gate, people cleaning up with trash bags. You begin helping, clearing the tables of plastic cutlery and paper plates. There isn’t really time to talk, not really. Every time he begins to, something, someone, needs his attention. As you’re tossing bags into the trash bin, Tommy comes up behind you with another load. You hold the lid open for him, and he ducks his head gratefully. 

 “Thanks. So, you and my brother, huh? Manhunt neighborhood champs.” He grins at you, and you feel your face heat. 

 “In my defense, it was my hiding spot first.” 

 “That tracks.” He laughs. ”And I’m not mad, even though you dethroned my cake.” 

 You grin. “Sorry. I was asked.” It’s easy to see that Tommy and Joel are related, you think as you chat. They have the same easy way of moving, the same slow drawl. You think of the way his lips felt against yours again and your face warms. It had felt so right to do in that moment, but now you can’t help but wonder if it had been a mistake. 

 “He’s droppin’ Sarah off at her friend’s place,” Tommy says suddenly. “In  case you were wonderin’.” His knowing look makes you wish the earth would open right up and swallow you into the resulting abyss. It doesn’t though, and you are forced to shoot Tommy a painfully embarrassed smile instead. 

 “I, um. Thanks.” You tuck your hands into your pockets to stop their nervous twitching. Somehow, this feels like a higher-stakes interaction than any of the others you’ve ever had with Tommy, and you aren’t sure why. 

 “No problem.” Tommy dusts his hands off of his jeans. “And he’s… Stupid. My brother. But he means well.” 

 “I think that makes two of us.” 

 You finish helping clean up, hanging around the yard awkwardly until Tommy asks you if you want to wait inside. You shake your head. Joel’s probably realized his mistake by now, you think to yourself, shaking your head as you make your way back across the street. Keys in hand, you head up the steps and unlock the door. As it swings open, the blast of a car-horn makes you yelp, jumping as you press yourself against the doorframe. 

 Joels truck swings haphazardly into your driveway, and he’s half out of it before it even stops. He hops the little gate in front of your porch steps, taking them two at a time as he strides towards you with purpose. 

 “Sugar.” 

 “Joel, I—” There are a thousand thoughts, all jumping to reach your mouth first. You want to kiss him again, you want to run inside and hide until he leaves, you really want to kiss him again—

 “I thought I told you to wait for me,” Joel says lowly, his fingers sliding through the belt loops on your jeans to tug you close against his chest. “Weren’t finished talkin’.” His mouth is against yours before you can answer, and he gratefully swallows your gasp of surprise as his tongue presses insistently at the seam of your lips. You are aware, on some level, that you’re standing on your porch, in full view of every watchful eye on your end of the street. However, your concern for your reputation is kept well in check by the feel of Joel’s hands passing hungrily over your hips.

 His fingers skate up underneath the hem of your t-shirt, and you gasp at the feel of them trailing up your sides and over your belly. 

 “I-inside,” you say, the word muffled by his lips. You feel the corners of his mouth curl up against your cheek as Joel loops his arms underneath your thighs. You gasp as he hoists you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you inside. Joel kicks the door shut behind him before pressing you against the wall, fitting the hard planes of his body against the softness of yours. He fits so well in between your thighs, his jean-clad hips slotting against you perfectly. 

 You want to be ashamed at the way your hips roll into his, your heels digging into the backs of his thighs. His hand fists in your hair, tugging your head back so that he can trail his teeth and tongue down the side of your throat.  

 “Fuck,” he mutters, teeth catching at the shell of your ear as one hand cups your swollen cunt through your jeans. You feel like you’re on fire, heat running underneath your skin, sparking where Joel touches you. Your head is swimming, like you’re drunk on more than just a couple of beers. Your fingers tangle in the short hair at the nape of his neck, and the throaty moan Joel releases makes your pussy clench down hard around nothing. 

 You drop your feet to the floor as his fingers play at the button of your jeans. He’s breathing heavy, hair askew from your attentions and eyes hungry. 

 “We can stop if you want to,” he says, his voice strained and husky. “You say stop, we stop.” You can tell he wants to do anything but stop, his thigh wedged between yours, and the half hard weight of his cock throbbing against you through his jeans. But you can also see he means it, that he’ll turn around and walk right back to his truck if you tell him to. 

 You hesitate, feeling Joel’s steady breaths against your lips as he waits for your decision. This is crazy, you reason. We’ll both regret this, and it’ll be awkward and we’ll never be able to talk to each other again—But what’s crazier is that you know you want him to stay. That you’re willing to risk it. 

 Maybe you’ll just be crazy for tonight. 

 “Stay.” 

 Joel surges, crashing over you like a wave. His hands—God, his hands—are everywhere, tugging up the rumpled hem of your t-shirt to cup your breasts through your bra, wiggling down under the waistband of your jeans to touch whatever skin he can—

 “Y’know, Sugar,” Joel’s voice is simmering honey, is burnt sugar—“I don’t think we’re gonna make it upstairs.” You don’t think so either, not with his eager fingers tugging open the button on your jeans. Not to mention that you’re pretty sure that if he stops touching you, you might actually die. You’ve never felt this before, the all encompassing need that drives you to grind down against his proffered thigh, your hands fisting in his shirt. 

 Definitely not making it to the bed. He kisses you again, sucking on your tongue as you feverishly work at the buttons on his shirt. You push them apart to touch his bare skin and he hums with pleasure. 

 He grunts frustratedly when there isn’t enough room for his huge hands in your tight jeans, tugging at them until they stick fast about halfway down your thighs. He anchors his hands underneath your hips, and you gasp as he hoists you up, taking a few wobbly steps towards the stairs.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

 He only makes it up three of them before he abandons the effort, setting you down. You let out a little giggle as your ass makes contact with the wood, and  Joel sucks his teeth. 

 “Goddamn house. S’got too many stairs,” he mumbles against the side of your throat. The raspy burn of his beard against your skin is delicious as he trails kisses down your neck until he meets the collar of your shirt. “Take this fuckin’ thing off, Sugar.” Joel’s teeth tug at the fabric. He chuckles lowly when your breath catches. “Or d’you want me to do it for you?” You hurriedly tug your shirt up over your head—with Joel’s eager assistance—and his mouth crashes against yours as before it’s even cleared your hair.

 Joel’s cinnamon and whiskey spiced kisses leave heat in their wake as he presses them between your breasts, pulling down the cups of your bra. He releases a pleased hum when your puffy nipples spill lewdly over the lace. The way he grins at the sight of them makes you want to combust, heat creeping up your chest and neck as he pinches them softly between his fingers. You whine, and he clucks his tongue at you, fixing you with a serious look. 

 “Don’t you rush me, Sugar,” he says, flicking his thumb against your nipple, and he grins when you wriggle. “Haven’t I been patient?” You’re hard pressed to disagree. His heavy lidded eyes go even darker as he laves his tongue across your nipple, and you whimper pathetically when he rolls it between his teeth. 

 “Yeah,” you pant as Joel taps his very patient fingers against the fleshy curve of your hip. You lift for him, and he hums with approval as he tugs them down your legs and flings them to the floor. “Practically a saint—ah, Joel!” Joel cups your pussy, clapping his hand against the fatty curve of it with a groan. 

 “If I were a saint, Sugar,” he drawls, pulling your panties tight until the puffy lips of your cunt pop out lewdly around them, “You know I’d never miss a day at this fuckin’ church.” He traces the shape of your swollen clit through the fabric with the rough pad of his thumb. “A-fuckin’-men.” The elastic band snaps against your skin as he pulls them off completely, your panties joining your jeans in an undignified heap at the bottom of the stairs. 

 Joel delivers a stinging little slap to your thigh that makes you yelp. 

 “Open.” You do, your cheeks burning as you spread your legs apart and let him see. He cards his fingers through his hair as a low “fuck” falls from his lips. He drags a thick, calloused finger up your slit, swirling the tip through your sopping folds. “Christ, Sugar,” he says, holding up his fingers so that you can see your own slick shining on them. You can’t look away as he lowers his head, his breath puffing across your heated skin. It’s only when he drags his tongue up your slit that your head falls back, and you curse at the ceiling. 

 “S’right,” he mumbles against your cunt, wrenching your legs further open. “Fuck, you taste good, baby.” Your fingers tangle in his hair, and you feel him chuckle against you before his tongue finds your clit and you loose a stream of curses and his name—

 “Fuck, fuck fuck, fuck, Joel—”

 “Say it, Sugar,” his beard rasps deliciously against your inner thighs. “Let ‘em hear my fuckin’ name.” 

 It’s impossible to think. You’re fairly certain the amount of electricity currently thrumming through you would be enough to light up a whole goddamn city. Your thighs tremble in his grip and you can’t stop the shameful push of your hips against his face. And then you’re cumming with a pitiful little whine, tears gathering in the corners of your wide eyes. Joel pulls away from you slowly, wiping at his glistening mouth with the back of his hand as he looks at you with dark, lidded eyes. 

 “Don’t cry yet, Sugar,” he rasps. You can’t help but stare as he looses the buttons on his jeans with nimble fingers. The heavy weight of his cock pushes insistently against the plaid fabric of his briefs before he hooks his thumb under the elastic and tugs it down too. “Oughta wait till the good part, at least.” 

 Oh my fucking God. 

 Joel Miller’s cock is thick. Like a fucking coke-can with veins. He palms it with one hand, and your traitorous cunt clenches wetly as you stare. The head is red, angry and leaking, and you find yourself with the sudden urge to swipe your tongue across it and see how he tastes. You can’t stop your eyes from following the movement as he strokes himself slowly, a low chuckle vibrating in his chest. 

 “Want a taste, Sugar?” He purrs, the accent dripping down every vowel. You don’t have enough working neurons left to lie, and so you nod meekly, licking your lips. “Say aah for me, baby.” You open your mouth wide, sticking out your tongue a little and he groans, balancing one hand on the bannister and the other against the wall as he leans forward. You nurse at his head, wrapping your lips around it as he thrusts slowly. You work your way down his thick, throbbing shaft, stopping when his head taps the back of your throat.

 “—gotta be fucking kidding me,” you catch bits and pieces of his mumbled praise, his fingers tangling in your hair as he holds your head still, enjoying the sensation before pulling out. You wipe at the spit on your chin as Joel pumps his cock, squeezing as his head falls back. 

 “If I wasn’t so determined to make a mess of that pussy, Sugar, I’d let you finish.” Joel sinks down to his knees on the stairs, cupping your chin with sure fingers as he kisses you, and you taste yourself on his tongue. You’re sure that tomorrow, you will find the time to be appalled that you’re here, like this, with your neighbor—

 But there is no space in your head for it now. 

 Now, Joel is settling himself between your thighs, the head of his cock sliding deliciously against you. And then fuck, he’s pushing inside, making your head fuzzy with that blissful, burning stretch. 

 “G-God,” you whimper, pressing your face against his throat, tugging at the skin there with your teeth as he seats himself all the way inside. 

 “Sorry, Sugar,” he mumbles the words into your hair, groaning as his heavy balls come to rest against you. “Best you got is me.” Joel draws out, taking all your air with him, before slamming back down, his hips meeting yours with a lewd squelch. You let out a choked gasp as he sinks his cock in to the base, his eyes rolling to half mast. His slow, steady pace is enough to make you see stars while your eyes are open, bright spots tattooing themselves against your retinas. 

 You don’t notice the hard bite of the wooden stairs into your back and the curve of your ass as you wrap your thighs around Joel’s hips. It feels so good, you’re drowning in it. In Joel. He knots a fist in the curls at the nape of your neck, tugging your head back. You let him, and are rewarded with his teeth and tongue scraping deliciously down the line of your throat. 

 “Where’ve you been hidin’ this pussy, Sugar?” The words are breathed hotly against the shell of your ear, followed by his teeth. “Why’d you hide her from me?” He punctuates his questions with a hard thrust that makes you bury your fingernails in the meat of his shoulder and sob. “Coulda been givin’ you your dick months ago.” 

 You’re not paying attention, not really, not when the white hot pleasure building at your core is all you can think about. You whine out an apology, not because you mean it, but because you think it’s what he wants to hear—and at this point, you’d tell him anything just to be able to crest the wave he’s been building inside of you. Fuck and you’re so full—

 Every slow, heavy thrust punches the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping and whining as Joel takes you to pieces.

 “H-holy shit,” the words stick to your lips and tongue as you struggle to get them out around the moans you keep trying unsuccessfully to swallow. It was never like this with Howard, this dizzying rush of pleasure that leaves you aching for more—begging for more, even if you’re not sure you can take it. 

“P-please,” you keen, lifting your hips eagerly to meet his thrusts. “Please!”

 “Please what, Sugar?” Joel asks teasingly, before dropping lis lips to yours. He sucks your bottom lip between his teeth before releasing it. “I’d tell you to use your big girl words but I know you can’t right now, can you Sweetheart?” 

 You cum with a sob, your back arching as you dig your heels into the backs of Joel’s thighs. They buckle, and he sinks down to his knees as you feel his cock throb inside you. Joel curses into your hair, both hands gripping the lip of the stair next to your head hard enough to drive the blood from his knuckles. You lay like that for a minute, panting on the stairs as you luxuriate in the sticky, warm afterglow. 

 Thank God for the pill. 

 All you can smell is the piney scent of his aftershave, tucked against his chest like you are. For a moment, you allow yourself to bask in Joel, your face pressed against his sweat-damp skin, the feel of his pulse thrumming beneath your cheek. You don’t know why, but it makes you think of mornings. Of waking up like this, tangled up in each other, of hot coffee and quick goodbyes over rushed breakfasts, of long nights—

 “You okay?” Joel asks, leaning away from you. His cheeks are flushed, and he’s wearing a dopey smile underneath his scruffy beard. He cups your cheek, and you blink it all away, squashing those thoughts back down into your subconscious where they belong. He slips from between your thighs, and you pretend you don’t feel something like a suspicious cross between longing and disappointment. 

 “Yeah, I’m good.” You offer him a weak smile as you sit up, wincing. There’s an ache in your back from where you’d been pressed against the stairs, and as Joel tucks himself back into his pants, he grimaces, rubbing his knee. You let out a little embarrassed laugh. “Probably should have tried harder to make it to the bed, though.” 

 Joel fixes you with a sly smile. “There’s still time.” Your face heats and you sputter. 

 “I—”

 “We can just sleep,” he says, chuckling. “Scout’s honor.” 

 It feels too natural to lead him upstairs, dodging stray hands as you fish a towel out for him from the hall closet. He starts stripping before you’re even out of the bathroom, and when he holds out a hand to you from the shower, you take it. Joel tugs you against his chest, tucking you beneath his chin underneath the spray. 

 “I thought you said we could sleep?” You say, peeking up at him through your lashes, a smile playing at the edges of your lips. Joel laughs, nosing along your jawline and pressing wet kisses to the corners of your mouth. 

 “Well we’re not in bed yet, are we Sugar?” 

 the end.

 for now. 

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel miller smut #joel miller x y/n #joel miller drabble #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us imagine #pre-outbreak #boxofbonesfic #Before | After series #fluff #smut

[ya-zz]

Ramattra Drabble

“Don’t come near me.”

Ramattra stops in his tracks almost immediately. “Excuse me?”

“Oh… it’s you.” A nervous laugh. “I still wouldn’t come near me.”

He noticed the change in voice. Lower and strained. “Is everything okay?”

“Do I sound and look okay?” A turn of your head to face the omnic revealed puffy eyes, tear stained cheeks and a sniffly nose. “I have a cold.”

“Omnics do not catch ‘colds’.” He states, sitting across from you.

“I know that.” Another laugh. “But germs are a thing and I don’t want you passing my sickness onto someone else through contact.”

“Well, I can assure you that I will not be touching any other human but you.” He chuckles at the startled reaction he got out of you.

“R-Ramattra!”

#overwatch #ramattra #ramattra x reader #ramattra drabble #yazzfics #after the week I’ve had a cold is the last thing I need #ugh

[lunar-years]

For the first sentence of a fic thing:

The first time Roy thinks nothing of it; the second he thinks it a coincidence – but the third time, and catching the studied nonchalance on Jamie and Keeley’s faces, he begins to grow suspicious.

The first time Roy thinks nothing of it; the second he thinks it a coincidence – but the third time, and catching the studied nonchalance on Jamie and Keeley’s faces, he begins to grow suspicious. "And neither of you have seen it?" he repeats slowly, staring at each of them in turn with his most intense, patented glare, waiting for one of them to break.

Jamie's face remains completely stoic--impressive, actually. Usually he's first to crack. Keeley shrugs innocently and murmurs, "Guess you must've misplaced it again, babe...."

Roy snorts. Yeah. He'd believed that the first time, when he'd found it buried on Jamie's shelf buried amongst his many, many hair products. Roy must've confused the shelves one night. His eyesight is shit in the dark, after all. Then when he next went to use it, the thing was fucking broken, so okay. Shit happened. Order another, no big deal.

This time, though, the trimmer was brand-fucking-new. And he knows exactly where he placed it once he'd removed it from the packaging. "You know that this is important, right?" he growls. "I've got be at the club in like two hours. Looking professional."

He glances past their heads to catch a sight of himself in the mirror. He meant to get a real haircut, but after a few rounds of putting it off, it's gotten long enough now for the curls to really be coming back, in desperate need of a trim, and his beard looks utterly unruly to match. Altogether, he looks like he's an aspiring caveman instead of the fresh new manager of a Premier League team.

"Your beautiful curls aren't unprofessional," Keeley says crisply, arms crossed and looking all put out like he's offended her talking about his own damn hair. Jesus Christ. "Actually, Jamie found--"

Jamie is instantly at his side, holding out a bottle of curl shampoo. "Bit of this to reduce the frizz, lad, and some beard oil to tame you up a bit in the front...very professional, that. And if it happens to make you look dead sexy, too, well--" He shrugs and exchanges a look with Keeley, who nods encouragingly like he's really selling it. They're both ridiculous.

Roy rolls his eyes. "So you mean to tell me I haven't been able to shave in days because my trimmer keeps disappearing mysteriously, and Jamie just so happened to go shopping for fucking..." he takes the bottle Jamie's holding, "curl-defining shampoo in that same timeframe? By total coincidence?"

"Exactly!" Keeley says cheerfully.

"You know, two hours gives us plenty of time to try it out," Jamie adds nonchalantly, waving the shampoo. His eyes are fucking sparkling. He's gorgeous. He's always so fucking gorgeous. "Probably best if Keeley and I help you out. Gotta really massage it in to get the full effect. It will take all three of us. We should shower together!"

Keeley's heads bobs up and down enthusiastically.

"And my trimmer is--?"

"Oh hush," Keeley says, edging closer, "You can search for that later."

"...or not!" Jamie adds.

Yeah, he thinks, letting Keeley's deft hands work at tugging his shirt over his head. Or fucking not.

#thanks for sending! #something deeply unserious after the last one hahaha #roy kent depression curls i'm always thinking about you <3 #royjamiekeeley #roy kent #jamie tartt #keeley jones #ted lasso #my writing #my fics #my fanfics #drabble #ship post #asks #ask games #writing games #first sentence of a fic thing

[monpalace]

LEGEND

Legend is reasonable, he’d consider, just not when he's presented with (almost) constant questions and concerns regarding his relationship status with his closest friend.

Any question along the lines of “so when’d you two start dating,” are quickly met with a snappy response with little second thought. “I saw you with your significant other not too long ago,” and any further ramblings are quickly put to an end when he sends a withering gaze their way.

At some point, Legend becomes tired of comments regarding his relationship with you. If it weren't for his aversion to dark magic, he’d drown himself in a curse of some sort that stopped any related questions entirely.

He’s never turned down acts of reassurance from your side. Whether they are words of affirmation or acts of affection, he never fails to be less inconvenienced about the event when you intervene.

Legend tends to hold his sharp tongue when you're around. He’s never rude to you, or (sometimes) to the other Links, when you're around because he always wants to be a better version of himself when you're around.

That doesn't mean he's good at biting his tongue.

He’s very much susceptible to rolling his eyes, groaning, and telling someone to shut up with a scoff. Legend might wind it down even further with a “please leave us alone,” or “can you just drop it,” if you don't seem pleased by his responses.

Despite his very obvious annoyance when it comes to misinterpretations of his relationship, Legend is quick to dispel any doubts you may have in your mind.

“Would you rather I tone down on the affection? I—” Absolutely not. You’re the only person he feels comfortable with when it comes to anything tactile; he's so used to it now, he’d rather die than lose it all because of some stupid rumor.

“Maybe we shouldn't share food or drinks anymore. It sends the wrong idea.” Okay? Who cares about an indirect kiss? What even is it? You either kiss or you don't. Besides, you have food that he wants to steal (or, he has food he wants you to try), where's the issue with that? Is sharing not caring?

One way or another, Legend is one of the less tolerant Links when it comes to his platonic relationship being taken the wrong way, only being rivaled by Wind and Four’s Blue.

“My Great Goddesses,” Legend groans under his breath. He folds his hands on the side of his temple, the beginnings of a headache working its way into his mind the longer he (forcibly) hears the group of older women coo over his supposed relationship. “Make them stop.”

A swift kick under the tavern table makes Legend’s complaints come to an end. The sharp glance you sent him reels him back in like a dog on a leash.

“Sorry,” he mutters just barely under his breath.

You laugh quietly, just barely audible over the afternoon rush. “I was trying to tell you to go after them,” you hum in an equally low voice. “I’m honestly a little tired of it too.”

“Seriously?”

“Naturally.”

There's a giddy feeling that fills Legend as he stands. It might have been the slight buzz that came with his drinks, or the more natural feeling that was released when he realized he wouldn't have to be nice anymore, but the feeling is there nevertheless.

“Will you cover my part of the bill if I manage to do it without making them leave?”

“Half.”

“Three-quarters.”

“Twenty-five percent.”

“You don’t love me anymore?”

Taking out your wallet, you shake your head at his antics while putting rupees on the table. “You forget the last time you pulled something like this; but I do love you, yes.”

“I love you too, then,” he hums, pressing a kiss to your cheek with a pat on your arm. “I’ll be sure to pay you back— eventually.”

TWILIGHT

This is not the first time he's been in a situation like this, shockingly. He and Ilia went through this same scenario with the villagers of Ordon, but it's the same twenty people with the same two rumors, so everything was squashed between them rather quickly.

But this isn't Ordon. It’s not the same twenty people; it’s everyone in different eras revolving endlessly.

Yet, Twilight doesn't mind.

Every question and comment is easily passed off with “oh, we’re just friends,” or “oh, no! I don’t see them that way,” with a light laugh.

Tactile responses such as hugs, kisses (to the forehead, cheek, hand, wrist), and hand holding are natural to Twilight. He never oversteps his boundaries (whether they're set or not), so his old habits are always fitted for them.

Being called your boyfriend be damned, Twilight is clingy. He's a wolf at heart, so being around those he considers to be a part of his clan. He gently pulls you out of the way from oncoming carriages with an arm around your waist, rests his chin on your shoulder or head while listening to whatever you’re rambling on about, and presses a kiss on your cheek in greeting and goodbye— but it's still strictly platonic.

Twilight holds more than enough respect to shut down anything like “I bet your wedding will be so beautiful,” and “your children will be the prettiest,” for the both of you. “We already agreed we’d be each other's mate of honor,” and “I already told them they’d be the godparent for my kids if I have any,” are almost always his responses.

Unlike Legend, Twilight genuinely finds it amusing everytime someone gets the wrong idea. He finds it easy to joke about when the person is gone or hours after the fact, but he will stop if he finds you don't find it as funny as him.

If, on the off-chance, you both visit Ordon (assuming you aren't from there), more rumors would pop up once more. Are you another Ilia? How long have you known Link? Do you treat him well, at least? Is that a ring on your finger? Are you wearing his pelt? When's the wedding?

Twilight is quicker to cut those off at the source before they spiral. No, he's known you as a friend for a long while (at least to him) and you’ve just so happened to grow close, he’d like to think you do, it's a family heirloom, and you just wanted to see the appeal in why he wore it all the time— now, please. Stop.

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s not?”

“No..”

“Yeah, alright.”

Twilight hides from the barely cracked door, hands cupped over the lower half of his face to muffle his laughter.

He can understand where the inn owner might have gotten the idea that the two of you were an item.

Upon first entering the establishment, he was pushing himself against you as though you shared the same body (the result of paranoia following a run-in with a particularly strong group of poes). He had insisted you get one room instead of two before you claimed one bed was fine when told there was no room available with two.

He supposes the final nail in the coffin would’ve been when he dropped his wallet on the counter when you started rummaging to get out your own, dragging you up their stairs once the key was dropped into his hand.

Twilight can see the beginnings of your laughter work its way through your body and face as you close the door. The owner’s inconvenienced “try not to be too loud; I’d like to not lose any more customers because of pairs like you,” rattling around in your minds when he stopped by to return Twilight's large pouch.

“It’s still not funny,” you say, trying to steal yourself as you stumble back to the bed. “It— it won’t. It’s mean.”

Denial and the urge to be the bigger person was slowly diminishing within you. It was undeniable.

Twilight joins you on the bed, shifting and ignoring the burning pain from his scrapes as you both become comfortable. The cramping he’d feel during the night was inevitable, but he could withstand it knowing he was right.

#loz/lu reqs open 👍🏽 #grim's scribbles #MATE OF HONOR USED IN THE AUSTRALIAN SENSE #no pronouns used #(i think i used they/them once but i'm not going through to check) #anyways if you can tell i wrote legend's drabble + the entirety of twi's last bc of how stale they are #shut up no you cant #not edited bc i put it thru grammarly after getting the sense to check everything and verbally told it to fuck off #its 12.30am #legend of zelda x reader #loz x reader #linked universe x reader #lu x reader #link x reader #legend x reader #twilight x reader #lu legend x reader #lu twilight x reader #linked universe legend x reader #linked universe twilight x reader #legend of zelda legend x reader #legend of zelda twilight x reader #twilight princess x reader #twilight princess link x reader #idr what games legend is from 🧍🏽

[starrystevie]

au where eddie is a classic motorcycle guy. he started with a hand-me-down harley, learned how to fix up choppers and opened his own shop once he had enough saved up. he has a disdain for the newer bikes, the loud sport bikes that zip through traffic like they don't have to follow the rules, the riders in blacked out visors and trendy racing suits that try to race him when they both get stopped at a light. they unnerve him, annoy him, get under his skin and have him rolling his eyes because they can't appreciate the classics.

steve is a sport bike guy. he's a proud suzuki owner with a dark blue suit to match his bike, likes to speed around the corners of the backroads no one goes on and feel the adrenaline coarse through his veins when he hits speeds he probably shouldn't. he knows it isn't a classic bike, knows that most bike shops don't take him and his fancy non-american made bike seriously. he expects shops to turn up their nose at him when he needs things fixed.

but then steve stumbles in eddie's shop. his accelerator is starting to stick and it's scaring even him, so he takes it to the first shop he can find when he's out for a drive in a podunk town and hopes they'll take him. and eddie turns up his nose and almost kicks him out until he takes the pretty bike guy's eyes into account, lets his own eyes trail over the way his dark blue suit clings to all the right places. matches pretty bike guy's smirk with one of his own and invites him into the office while his guys work on his bike.

eddie decides after, when steve's back on the road after a race around the backroads and more than a few purpling bruises on his neck, that he doesn't hate all the people who drive sport bikes, especially when they can kiss as well as steve can.

#do i know anything about bikes? no #do i want sexy motorcycle eddie and sexy sport bike steve to make out in eddie's office and then go for a race after? yes #like just imagine it! wind in their hair! laughter bouncing through the trees! fucking in a field when they decide they're tired of racing! #also i've been sucked into six of crows/wesper brain rot and am trying to get back into steddie brain rot #and work has been just the worst for the last month #so sorry for being incredibly inactive and only coming on here in spurts #steddie #steddie au #steddie headcanon #my writing #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet

[mega-aulover]

Tease

This is for the wonderful @gremlinddrawss who drew a wonderful Everlark This DRAWING Named the TEASE

thank you for your wonderful art...Rated T - unbeta'd - all mistakes are mine-

Katniss and Peeta’s first time was a few weeks ago, but since then they had been dancing around the other about doing it again. It wasn’t good. It was awkward, but the promise of more was there. The tension was thick between them. They exchanged shy glances. Anytime they brushed each other, Katniss would get goosebumps all over. Yesterday evening, Katniss felt flushed due to Peeta’s heated stare as she ate his flaky aromatic bread. Afterward, she’d poured water over her face to cool herself down. Cold showers were becoming the norm.

Katniss couldn’t take it anymore and she prepared.

Sunday morning Katniss couldn’t wait to spend the day with Peeta. He normally didn’t bake or paint on Sundays. It was their day to lounge about and do nothing. Katniss took a deep breath, as she dressed. It was chilly outside, and she wished for it to be warmer so that she could wear one of the pretty dresses that Cinna had designed. Instead, she wore a sweater her mother had knitted for her, on top of a crisp white shirt and comfortable pants.

She bounded down the stairs to find Peeta drinking his tea at the breakfast table. He had cooked a hearty breakfast of thick fluffy pancakes, and mounds of bacon and eggs. Typically Katniss would've devoured the food, but today she had a different breakfast in mind. She had a game in mind, something pleasurable.

“Morning,” Peeta said as he took a sip of his tea.

“Where are you ticklish,” Katniss blurted, she felt the way heat flooded her cheeks.

Peeta spat out his tea. “I’m sorry,” he said immediately grabbing a towel to dry himself off.

The situation made her want to laugh. A small giggle escaped her lips and it was followed by an unfeminine chortle.

Peeta began laughing.

“What was that about,” he asked when the mirth died down.

Katniss took a deep breath, “I want to…” Her cheeks burned, and even her hands looked flushed. “You know… upstairs.”

“Really?”

Katniss took his hand and gently tugged him forward as a way of answering his question. Peeta followed behind obediently. When they were both kneeling on the bed, Katniss noticed he shared her goofy grin.

“You first,” Katniss said biting her lip, glancing up at Peeta from beneath her lashes.

Peeta nodded and reached out and tugged off her sweater.

Katniss jovially raised her arms. Her head got wedged in the sweater, and he laughed when it finally came off. She began snorting like a pig and couldn’t help herself.

“That was graceful!” Peeta began laughing.

Couldn’t help but feel giddy and laughed a full belly laugh, as she said, “Capitol worthy!”

“You would make Effie proud with that level of etiquette,” Peeta said his blue eyes shining.

Katniss loved the fact that she could be her authentic self with Peeta. There was no pretension, no expectations, he loved her unconditionally. Her heart bee-bopped in her chest, as she leaned forward to take his sweater off. “You next.”

His muscular torso appeared slowly. Katniss was taking it slow, enjoying the show.

“Kanmifff,” Peeta said from behind his sweater.

Katniss suddenly became nervous and pulled his sweater off, dragging his head down. She could hear his laughter at her jerky movements. He then snorted loudly.

This caused her to smile uncontrollably. “I think you missed some of those classes on etiquette.”    

“I think you ripped my ears off,” Peeta said.

Katniss leaned forward and gently placed her hands on his face, giving him a teasing smile, gently cupped his face. “Real,” she whispered, as she gave him a kiss on each ear. Then she whispered, “Catch me if you can baker boy.” Katniss popped off the bed and ran.

Peeta sat there momentarily stunned, as she opened their bedroom door Katniss could hear him laugh-shout, “TEASE!”

She laughed as she ran out, anticipating the chase, this was one of the good games to play.  

#I've been loving your drawings for weeks. Thank you for sharing your art #big fan #mega-aulover writes #drabble #Everlark #Katniss Everdeen #Peeta Mellark #after the last chapter but not before the epilouge #T's rated #fan fiction

[angstyaches]

100 x 10

To commemorate this blog passing 1,000 followers, I wanted to write 10 new 100-word drabbles. (Because 100 x 10 = 1,000!)

Please don't send anything too elaborate; a sentence/dialogue starter/some keywords etc. + OC name(s) please! 🖤

#ask game #ask meme #drabbles #mini mental health vent incoming #I attempted starting this up last week but when the post got no interaction my brain attempted self destruction #and I deleted it because it was easier than dealing with the perceived ✨rejection✨ and 💅failure💅 #so if this disappears again after you've seen it - that's probably why! #I'm gonna try not to though and to be more patient #anyways today sucked and I need a distraction so now seems as good a time as any #Flickposting #blog stuff

[chateautae]

hi everyone 🥺

#IK IT'S BEEN SO LONG #HELLO HELLOOOOO LIFE JUST GOT SO CRAZY #it's so entirely different from when i was last on here! #BUT WHEW I;VE HAD THE SECOND CHAPTER TO 'TO TURN A BAD THING GOOD' FOR A WHILE #I JUST LOST ALL MOTIVATION AFTER LIFE GOT SO CRAZY #it legit needs another paragraph or two and it'll be done #i also have a tae pwp i wrote like two years ago and just never released stashed somewhere #i might release that too! #i wanna get back into maybe i do drabbles as well!! #sammy files

[elliesdin0saur]

Ellie leaves behind a letter for Dina....

[farmhouse aftermath]

Dear Dina,

I don't know where to begin. I'm sitting here in the farmhouse, surrounded by the memories we built together, and it feels like the walls are closing in. The echoes of our laughter, the warmth of our shared space, they all seem distant now.

I came back after finding Abby. After all that time, after all the pain and sacrifice, I confronted her. And you know what? I let her go. I let her go, Dina, and I thought it would bring me some closure, some peace. But all I feel is emptiness.

I walked through the door, half-expecting to see you and JJ waiting for me, your smiles lighting up the room. But the silence greeted me instead. The rooms are empty, and the air feels heavy with the weight of what's been lost. I searched every corner, called out your names, but there's no answer. Just the quiet reminder of a life, our lives, that's slipped away. I didn't want to leave bu And it's all my fault.

I understand, Dina. I understand why you left. My pursuit of revenge took me to a place you couldn't follow. I can't blame you for wanting something different, something safer for JJ. It hurts, though, realizing that I've pushed away the people I care about the most.

I'm writing this note because I can't stay here any longer. The farmhouse holds too many ghosts, too many memories that I'm not ready to confront. I'll leave everything as it is, the way you left it, and I'll take only what I need.

I don't know where I'm going, Dina. I don't have a plan, a destination, or a purpose. Maybe I'm running away from the pain, or maybe I'm running toward something I can't yet see. All I know is that I can't stay here. Not now.

Thank you, Dina, for everything. For being the light in the darkness, for giving me a reason to keep going. I'll always cherish the moments we had, and I'll carry them with me, even if the weight becomes too much.

Take care of yourself and JJ, he's lucky to have an amazing mom to take care of him. I hope you find the peace and happiness I couldn't give you. Maybe our paths will cross again someday. Until then, know that you were the best part of my life.

With love,

Ellie

.

#drabble #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams #the last of us 2 #tlou #depressing shit #letter #dina tlou #ellie x dina #tlou part 2 #tlou2 #fucking sad #going to cry now #shit #shit went down w/Ellie after Santa Barbara #imagine #angsty

[fbfh]

No bc Billy is such a fucking caring protective boyfriend. Once he decides you're - for all intents and purposes - part of his pack, he will always protect you. The party, the other teens, even Hopper and Joyce (along with Max and Susan obviously) are all part of his little circle of people that he will never let anything bad happen to. Any time you're having a problem, he can tell. You've just started going straight to Billy when you have a problem because he's so quick to tell when something is wrong. You know why he's so good at picking up on miniscule changes in someone's mood and behavior, and it breaks you heart. But now, like so many other traits and defense mechanisms he's developed, he's able to use them for good, to protect you and your friends. It's not perfect, but it's a huge improvement.

One time you ran up to him, he knew something was wrong just by the way you were walking before he even saw your face, and started telling him everything, trying to hold yourself together. Whether the guys you had bumped into made fun of you or just made you uncomfortable, you know Billy won't let it slide.

"I was just trying to walk my dog, and they won't leave me alone, and-"

He puts a hand on your shoulder, and you know he has this under control.

"Those guys over there?" He asks, voice low and calculated. You nod.

"Stay here." He states, giving your dog an appreciative scratch on the head for helping to look after you. He resolves the issue out of earshot and out of your sight. You don't know the details, but the next time you see those guys, they turn and practically run the other way. When you thank him for taking such good care of you, keeping you safe, he presses a kiss to your forehead.

"'Course. I always will."

Every day that you or one of the kids or even his friends feel safe enough to come and talk to him when you're feeling vulnerable, every day someone comes to him to feel safe is another day he knows he beat the statistics, broke out of the cycle. It's more and more proof that he did it, and he can keep doing it, for you guys and for himself.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove drabbles #billy hargrove x reader #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things drabbles #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things imagine #billy hargrove deserved better #billy hargrove antis dni #drabbles #also whoever said billy will do whatever el wants no questions asked was right #all El had to say to Hopper was that Billy's dad was like papa and Hopper FLEW out of his chair to hunt down and arrest the bastard #probably planted something as an excuse #jim 'im the chief of police i can do whatever i want' hopper #hopper ABSOLUTELY took billy under his wing after that #susan and joyce are now mom friends #also this may or may not be inspired by a dream i had last night #i was walking my dog and some weird guys invaded my lawn #i was like BILLY and he just showed up beksbfjd-

[kkcauseway]

Intoxicants

Pairing: Fiancé Joel Miller & f!reader Summary: You’re going out drinking on a well deserved night out with friends, your fiancé Joel Miller has dropped you off and is waiting on a call to to pick you up. When the call to get you finally comes you’re a little too drunk, but he doesn’t mind, he’ll look after you. It’s his job after all. Content and warnings: Fluff, so much fluff. Talks of naughty things, but nothing happens. Joel Miller being the cutest fiancé. Caring!Joel, Protective!Joel. Joel looking after a drunk reader. Joel being understanding that you need time away with friends and isn’t a controlling partner that needs to know where you’re at, at all times and sets a curfew. 🫶🏻 Authors note: Just a tiny drabble, the idea just came into my head whilst I was at work and then hey presto this was made. Hope you enjoy the endless amounts of fluff 🫶🏻

Main materlist

The drive to the bar is silent, apart from the hum of the engine and yours and his breathing. He’s focussed on the dark road, but has a hand firmly around your thigh, squeezing and stroking every so often. Gently moving it upwards taking your dress with it. But he’s only messing. Having his fill of touching you before you’re gone for a few hours.

Eventually he parks up outside of your destination, turns off the truck engine and turns to you. Smiling when his eyes meet yours. “Now don’t drink too much Baby, you know you’ll regret it tomorrow if you do.”

“I won’t!” you laugh.

“I’ll pick you up when you’re ready okay? Call me when you’re ready to go, don’t matter what time it is”.

“Okay, I will, thank you for dropping me”.

“No problem Baby, y’have a good night, stay safe, call me if you need me. And may I just say future Mrs Miller you look mighty fine in that dress, and I for one can’t wait to rip it off you later”. He growls leaning closer to your face before smiling adding “I love you, have fun!”

“Love you too” you kiss him before leaving the car. Blowing him a kiss as you walk into the bar entrance.

🥂🥂🥂🥂

A few hours later your friend calls Joel to pick you up, explaining you’ve had a little more to drink than you meant to and that it was just easier if she called you. Laughing about how you’re such a lightweight before ending the call.

He’s quick to come and get you. Laughing to himself because he knew this was going to happen; he knew he would be helping you home and into bed and more tonight for the usual reasons. He shakes his head at the thought of drunk you as he laces up his boots. The way you’ll be stumbling about, so talkative- more so than when you’re sober; everything about you is adorable. God, does he love you.

When he’s parked up outside the bar once more, he quickly enters, searching every corner till he finds your stunning figure standing out from the crowd.

“Hiii!” you slur running into his arms, hugging them around his neck after noticing him making his way over to you.

“Woah Baby, okay, you’ve definitely had a lot to drink haven’t you. Y’had a good time?” he laughs aloud slightly winded by the force in which you pounce at him.

“I knowww” you moan sincerely “I’m sorry but YES! I had so much fun! Like so much fun we haven’t stopped laughing and we were comparing our men and guess what, you won!”

‘He’s fit’ your single friend Lanni slurs pointing at someone on the dance floor.

‘He’s fitter!’ Your very taken friend Lisa replies pointing to another gross looking guy out at the smoking area.

‘Oooo what about him’ your other taken, but at the same time basically single (it’s complicated) friend Alison mutters.

The silence that follows is evident of their wanting you to join in on their game.

“You’re very quiet in this conversation ” all three of your friends turn to you when you don’t add your own sought out fit guy to the mix.

“Firstly, all three of your tastes are disgusting, I think y’all need glasses. And well secondly, I’m happy in a relationship I don’t need to be looking at other men!” you roll your eyes playfully.

Lisa utters excitedly ‘I’m in one too but I’m still playing!’

‘Ahhh, I know what it is’ Lanni adds laughing playfully.

“What?” you question as your other friends do too in unison.

‘I mean I know I’m not the only one thinking, she’s absolutely smitten with Joel Miller no wonder she doesn’t give a shit.’

‘I mean if I was with him I wouldn’t either’ Alison utters giggling.

‘He is gorgeous’ Lisa quickly adds.

You know they’re not wrong, that women constantly ogle him, want him, but he’s yours. All Yours! and always will be. So, you don’t mind joining this part of the conversation.

“He is absolutely gorgeous inside and out; the most amazing man ever. Why do you think I’m fuckin’ marrying him! He’s a literal God” you finally add.

‘Wit woo!’ Lanni jokes.

‘I mean I would’ Lisa jests.

‘Ugh and me.’ Alison sighs longingly.

“Okay ladies enough thank you haha, we’ve established he’s hot and he wins the competition on who has the hottest man, but enough ogling my fiancé, especially when he’s not here, he’s mine! Tell you something it’s a damn good thing I love the three of you the way I do!” You end on a fit of hysterics of which your friends join in. You must look like nutters in the bar, but you don’t care. Joel fucking Miller will always till the end of time be your happy place; your purpose.

“I won huh?” he grumbles keeping you close.

“Uhu, but you know the best thing about it, they might all think you’re hot, but” you lean into his ear adding whilst whispering “but I’m the only one who gets to fuck you.”

“You are aren’t you Baby” he mumbles back.

“Yeah! Lucky me” you giggle.

“Okay, well how about let’s get you home and into bed huh?”

“Okay but wait I need a wee first!” You jump out of his arms making your way to the bathroom stumbling embarrassingly so. So, he races to your side, holding you upright “Okay, come on Baby let’s go” he laughs, and you laugh with him mumbling “my hero.”

He helps you into a disabled toilet; knowing they’re larger and can fit more than one person, following you in and locking the door. He stares at you as you struggle to lift your dress holding it up whilst also pulling down your panties. Constantly losing your balance in your heels.

“Here” he chuckles as he quickly kneels “hold onto me I’ll pull ‘em down.”

You nod. Leaning on his shoulders as he curls his fingers round the lace and pulls them down to sit at your ankles. “Okay, stand up straight Baby” you do, he then stands, but you grab one of his hands holding it as you sit down on the seat.

He then goes to turn away but you yank his arm making him look back. Confused.

“Are you embarrassed Joel Miller?” you giggle “watching me on the toilet?”

“I no- I just thought you’d want some privacy.”

“Privacy” you laugh. “Joel this is one of - hiccup- of the least comising positions you’ve seen me in.”

“‘Comising’? Y’mean compromising? Jesus Baby you’re pissed” he laughs back.

“Meanie” you stick your tongue out at him.

“I’m a meanie? What for looking out for you? Hey you’re the one who’s gonna regret this in the morning not me.”

“Yeah well you’ll look after me you always do” you smile looking up at him from the seat.

“Yeah, you know I will. Love doting on you don’t I Babygirl.”

“Uhu”. You smile trying to stand yourself back up after wiping but to no avail. So instead, you make grabby hands at Joel like a toddler begging to be picked up. He hold your hands as he forces you up. Groaning as he does.

“Thankyou” you sing at him.

“That’s okay Baby, can you step outa them panties I don’t think we should bother trying to get them back up. Was hard enough gettin em down?”

“You’ll say it’s for that, but really you just want my knickers you perv” you laugh uncontrollably.

“Bita’ both maybe.” He grumbles shrugging, dirty smile on his face. “C’mon home time” he groans as he picks up your panties shoving them into his jeans pocket, before grabbing your hand and leading you both out.

He helps walk you to his truck, and to climb in, he even straps you in, forever a gentleman. He’s quick to round the truck jumping in himself and driving you both home in the darkness of the night.

“Joel” you mumble after a few minutes of silent driving.

He hums in response. Keeping his eyes on the road. When you don’t reply instantly he gets concerned “you feelin’ okay?”

“Yep, you’re just so pretty” you slur.

“M’pretty?” he chuckles lightly.

“Uhu, s’not fair” you whine turning in your seat to look at him. Stroking gently at his beard.

“Baby you’re plenty pretty. Men would line the streets for you if they weren’t so shit scared, I’d fuck em up.” He bends his head down slightly to kiss your hand as you brush just under his lips.

“Hehe, you’d fuck them up just cus you loveeeee me.”

“Course I would Baby, none of them fuckers are havin’ you. You’re all mine.”

You laugh and he joins you.

When you finally make it home, you’re super sleepy; on the verge of being asleep. Your body doing what it always does when you’ve had too much to drink. Joel lifts you out of the car closing the door with his boot before walking you to the front door. He has to put you on your feet to unlock it, but once inside he pics you up again taking you upstairs. You rest your head in his neck taking in his beautiful natural scent.

“Are you seriously sniffin’ me right now?”

“Uhu” you nod.

“You are one crazy girl” he chuckles.

“S’your fault you smell so good” you mumble shrugging.

He gently rests you on your bed once you make it to the bedroom. “Stay here Baby just gonna get a few things for you.” You don’t argue, you stay firmly where he put you so comfy on the edge of slumber. He’s quick on his feet grabbing you some paracetamol and a glass of water, with ice, just how you like it and he’s grabbed one of his t shirts for you to change into.

He peels off your heels making light work of the buckles you always struggle so much with. And then he helps you to sit up so he can pull your dress off over your head. Leaving you bare, having not needed a bra with this dress and of course the man had already pocketed your panties. “So beautiful” he murmurs straightening out your now ruffled hair. He grabs the t shirt and quickly puts it over your head, helping you to feed your arms through the holes and then there you are, in all your Glory; his favourite shirt buries you as you gleam at him with a smile so full of love. He passes you the water and pills next sitting on the edge of the bed, stroking a hand over one of your legs as he watches you take the tablets and then down the entire glass. “Good girl” he praises when you finish, you smile at him.

“I’m gonna quickly go top this glass up f’you, and get myself ready okay Baby, be back in a sec, you just get yourself all warm and comfy.”

He’s gone all of five minutes, but when he returns, you’re out like a light. Curled in on yourself, face squished into the pillow. He climbs in next to you and you instantly, instinctively in your sleep edge closer to him till your head is resting on his chest. He wraps an arm round you to pull you closer. “G’night Baby.” He murmurs kissing your forehead before he too finds himself encased in sleep. Content with drunk, sleepy you in his arms.

#joel miller #the last of us #no outbreak!joel miller #fluff #protective joel #Joel looks after reader #Joel looks after drunk reader #short drabble #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic

[camels-pen]

I'm still thinking about vampire Usopp w/sanuso btw, just like

Sanji insisting Usopp come to him whenever he's hungry, for multiple reasons, but primarily bc he's the cook, it's his job to keep his cremates fed above everything else. And Usopp going along with it, asking for blood around the same times he used to ask for food. Thinking Sanji would tell him if he ever took too much.

Sanji, however, is a fool. A very kind, but large fool. He doesn't tell Usopp when he's taking too much or too frequently. In fact their whole arrangement barely lasts a few weeks before Sanji collapses in the middle of food prep.

Like, just the idea of the guy who gives and gives and, yeah it feels nice to give, but can't fathom the idea that there are others on the crew able to do the same. That he doesn't have to give until there's nothing left.

Idk just. Physical manifestation of his problems with accepting unconditional love without having to give anything to earn it. As in, the more he gives without bounds, the more he's literally killing himself.

And then. And then.

Usopp coming into the galley, ready to sheepishly ask for a snack, just like before this whole thing, and finding Sanji on the floor.

And he yells for Chopper before looking Sanji over. Coming to the realization that this was him- this was his fault. He took too much. Asked for too much. Asked too much of Sanji.

And he's just kicking himself the whole time, telling himself it was stupid to ever think Sanji- Sanji of all people- would ever deny him a chance to fill his belly.

He comes to the conclusion he can't ask Sanji for blood anymore. He can't ask anyone for blood anymore. He couldn't risk this happening again. To any of them.

After Sanji got a transfusion and isn't at risk of falling over anymore, he and Usopp begin an agonizing back and forth routine.

Sure, Sanji can't give blood for a while- doctor's orders- but there are some rather big fish in the aquarium, and Usopp has always loved the taste of fish. He drains the blood out of a few, stores the excess in the fridge, and offers a glass to Usopp to make up for the lunch portion he never got.

Usopp says something or other about grabbing a bite from a sea king earlier and waves him off. Sanji frowns but doesn't say anything.

And this same bit continues and continues and continues, until Sanji puts his foot down. Literally.

Kicks Usopp's ass to the galley. Has an infuriating conversation with him. Continues to try and get him to drink. Ends up coming to a conclusion that Usopp only liked drinking blood from the source. A passing thought making him consider that there was only one source- one person he'd drink from.

Usopp- tired and fuzzy and hungry, so so hungry- is trying his damnedest to keep Sanji satisfied with lies he doesn't have the energy to make believable. He's trying and trying but Sanji is bulldozing through each one, not taking no for an answer and-

Is it me? Sanji asks, his voice far, far too hopeful. Do you only want to drink from me?

And if Usopp wasn't tired- wasn't literally starving and finding it hard to keep his thoughts from slipping away- he would examine that voice. That tone. Run through his own daydreams with different words, different contexts, being implied with those words.

But he is tired. And he is starving. And he needs to get a grip before he wavers even more in his resolve.

And so, it's surprising yet all too expected when Usopp declares Sanji's blood as the nastiest thing he's ever tasted. Says he never wants to get within smelling distance anymore, it's that bad. Too late, he realizes his smelling distance, now, covers the entirety of the ship and then some.

Sanji stays silent. Usopp contemplates taking it back. He doesn't.

Casually, Sanji reaches over to his knife block. Despite his current status as a member of the undead, Usopp fears for his life. He wonders if Sanji was just as skilled with a knife as Zoro was with his swords and desperately hopes that's not the case. Aloud, he tries to calm Sanji down while subtly trying to put distance between them.

Without any warning, practically without sound, Sanji tilts his head and cuts a thin line near the juncture from his neck to his shoulder. And all of a sudden, Usopp's filled with another, far more terrifying, kind of fear.

It's just like Boin, Usopp, he thinks to himself, eyes glued to the spot where dark red beads of blood well up on pale skin. Just like Boin.

#one piece #vampire usopp #sanuso #sanji #usopp #nemotime #ye this is related to the other drabble thing i wrote #i dont have explanations for chopper uhhh #maybe they both got embarrassed about being found by the crew like that and just kept it a secret that they kept doing it #like sanji would assure chopper that he had pigs blood or smth for usopp but in reality. foolishness #ohhh chopper is So gonna let them have it though #Sanji: i always have juice and bread after- #Chopper: YOU CANT FIX EVERYTHING WITH JUICE AND BREAD! #luffy and brook fixing themselves up with milk is different bc they're. hmm. theyre something else #i took out the last bit bc i couldnt find a way to end it nice but Sanji wipes the blood on his finger and sticks it in Usopps mouth #and Usopp is trying so damn hard not to give in but his knees are very much shaking at this point

[youphoriaot7]

Wrote a little hgduo drabble Monday night and forgot to post it before Bagi and Cellbit made up so um...take it now! ^^

"Hey, Cellbit, I just wanted to ask a question. Is now a good time?" Bad pokes his head around the doorframe of the castle just in time to watch the detective jolt backwards, startled. "Oh. Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you," he chuckles.

But then Cellbit glances up at him, and Bad immediately stops laughing. "What's wrong?" he asks, eyebrows furrowing.

"N-nothing," Cellbit stutters out, wiping his hands on his pants as he pushes to his feet. "Um…now is fine, Bad." He shakes his head, throwing his bangs out of his eyes. "What do you need?"

"No, c'mon, what's going on?" Bad peers around the man, trying to sneak a peek inside the chest.

Cellbit kicks the lid shut. "Nothing. It's fine, Bad, everything's…um. Everything's fine." 

"It doesn't look fine." Bad rakes his eyes over him: the way his hands are trembling uncontrollably despite the way he rubs them against his thighs, the way his gaze darts around the room, the way his breaths come quick and shallow. "You look…well. Terrified."

"What? No." He shakes his head quickly, the ever-present goggles on his head slipping slightly out of place. "Just, uh…just—you know. Busy."

"...if the Ordo stuff is what has you all shaken up," he starts slowly, "then you know I'd be more than willing to—"

"Yes, Bad, I know." Cellbit squeezes his eyes shut, scrubbing a hand across his face with a sigh. "Look, I-I'm sorry, it's just a…personal thing."

…oh, fudge.

Bad glances at the chest again. The pink chest. "...can I help with anything?"

Cellbit laughs bitterly. "Not unless you have a fu-lipping time machine," he replies, pressing his lips together.

Time to press a little harder. "...does it…have anything to do with…Bagi?" He tries to phrase the question playfully, giving the detective a grin, though all he gets in return is a startled glare.

"How did you know that?" he snaps, alarmed.

Bad nods to the chest. "It's pink." Only three islanders have that obsession with pink, and he didn't think it was from Tina. It could've been Mouse's, considering she was currently rooming upstairs—but from Cellbit's spooked demeanor, Bad already knew what the answer was.

Cellbit takes a deep breath, staring pointedly down at his hand. "...she's my sister."

Bad nods. "So the missing posters…they were of you?" Like I didn't know this already.

The detective nods, but it's small and hesitant, so different from the confident air Bad has grown used to seeing from him. The way he won't make eye contact, his fidgeting hands, the shell-shocked look on his face—he looks so much like the kid Bad knew on that battlefield all those years ago.

For the first time in months, Cellbit doesn't know what to do.

And Bad doesn't need to know him as well as he does to see it.

#technically meant to come after my other hgduo drabble #but you don't need to have read it to read this one :D #i'm so glad things went the way they did last night. even despite the angst #qsmp #qsmp cellbit #qsmp bbh #qsmp badboyhalo #qsmp bagi #qsmp fic #qsmp drabble