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davosmymaster · 1 year

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No Time To Die

TAGS AND WARNINGS - +18, Minors DNI, no explicit smut but sexual themes, whump, a lot of angst, blood, graphic wounds and procedures (?) probably not medically accurate, could be almost gore if you squint, hurt/comfort, two dorks in love, canon-typical violence, near-death experiences. Not based on the game, I don’t know anything about the game and I don’t want spoilers please.

PAIRINGS - Joel Miller x fem!reader

WORD COUNT - 9.6k.

SUMMARY - The main difficulty of being Joel’s closest friend is not falling in love with him, but you still do. Those feelings are buried until you join him on a mission to trade supplies with Bill and Frank. With your life now hanging by a thread, Joel is determined to get you to safety, but the clock is ticking faster than he can run.

A/N - I honestly don’t know what this is. I tried to look for angsty and whumpy fics and couldn’t find any that hit the spot just right; so I wrote my own. This story is set in some time between 2010 and 2020, or so. Bill and Frank are still very much alive. The only warning apart the amount of blood in this, it’s my own knowledge of the English language.

'Breathe'

With a shiver, you try to comply with your own command. The action itself confuses you, and you don't know where exactly in your mind that thought came from; or why. All you know is that a moment ago you were nothing, absolutely nothing, not even human. You forgot your own existence in a still ocean made of black thick ink. The ink is now backtracking, though, but the remnants of it stay in your foggy mind, clouding it as your consciousness comes back in waves.

Waking up from a dream is easy, you just come back into yourself from a nice trip to your own imagination. Regaining consciousness, however, is a little more difficult. Instead of going somewhere, you go inwards into yourself. Your overworked mind, already tired and busy with keeping you alive, doesn't care much about bringing you to any other place so you can die peacefully. No. And the awakening is not as it should be either.

Coming back into yourself is your body crawling its way to the land of the living, with your flesh drenched in tears, blood and sweat; and nails digging firmly into the dirt. At least that's how it feels as you go back and forth between the two worlds, rocked violently by the waves threatening to drown you in its heavy never-ending dream.

You wake up tired, and cold. The first sense that returns is touch; and with it, a pulsing pain radiates from under the right side of your collarbone and all the way down to your chest and back. The —obvious— wound is warmer than the rest of your body. It's like you've grown a second heart right at the borders of the wound; it throbs relentlessly. The second is taste. Your mouth tastes like salt and melted butter; despite not having eaten either in at least three days. Around the dryness of your tongue you feel a sticky liquid swirling around in your mouth, plastered to your gums.

Whatever it is, you cough it out of your mouth. The old blackened blood splatters on the wooden planks below your mouth. Then, a second later, you feel a sprawled hand on your back; and the rest of your consciousness returns with it.

He calls your name. And he, whose presence you'd have recognized even blindfolded, even miles away from there, doesn't appear in your mind for a few seconds. But even half-conscious and at death's gates, his name leaves your mouth with a sigh of relief.

Joel.

"I'm here," he says, his palm now pressing a bit harder into your back, trying to comfort you somehow. If you had been fully aware, you'd have been embarrassed at the relieved groan that had escaped your lips while saying his name. "How are you feeling?"

His voice sounds less muffled now, but the pulsing pain intensifies the closer you are to the surface. A second groan escapes your mouth as the warmth under your collarbone becomes impossible to ignore.

"I know, I know" he says.

Your eyes flutter open. From your point of view there's not much to see except torn wallpaper, your blood stains, and the shadow of a window. You're on the floor, your cheek pressed against the dusty carpet, your body very still laying on them, and Joel rubbing your back.

The room is dark. His fingers enter your field of vision, they dip on the wet blood stains and turn around so Joel can see the sticky fluid staining his fingers. He takes a breath, a gasp, really.

"Goddamnit," he mutters under his breath. His hand stops rubbing your back, and as black stains crawl from the corners of your vision, trying to take you under the waves again, he talks to you:

"I need to turn you around..." he says with a gentle voice. It's like the icing on top of a sour and burnt cake; he's trying to sound caring, but that doesn't change the fact that it's going to hurt like a bitch. "You hear me?" he says, and his voice breaks for a second. Your ears ring, the next thing he says your brain doesn't process it, your vision has been clouded by darkness again...

A scream tores your throat as a shooting pain lights your body on fire. It feels like lightning going through your backbone. Suddenly, the waves are very far away and you're feeling way too conscious for your liking. Despite your pain, Joel is still as careful as he can as he lays you on the floor, now facing the ceiling instead.

The throbbing pain continues, and you blink to get rid of the tears that distort Joel's face. His hand wipes the tears from your face.

"I know," he says. He has a crease between his seemingly angry eyebrows that you had never seen before.

Both hands are roaming your ribs now, before you can even say anything. His warm hands give you shivers as he touches your naked skin. The pain is so unbearable that all you can do to mitigate it is hold your breath. If you could move, you'd be right now curled on the floor like a pretzel. You are not crying anymore, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't close.

"Can you breathe?" he asks then, when he doesn't find any cracks in your ribs by touch alone. You don't respond because you can't find your own voice, and he sounds desperate at this point. "You coughed blood, I need to know if any of your lungs are collapsing."

"It-it hurts..." you wheeze, your eyes tightly shut. For a split second, you wish you were back to being nothing. Being nothing sounds way better than having a gunshot wound in your chest. The bandages, tight over your bones and shoulder, don't mitigate the pain either. If anything, they worsen it. It feels like a tight sock over a painful pustule on your heel.

Worst part is you know all this pain is for nothing; you know you won't make it. If you go back to the QZ, you will be executed. If not, there's nobody to help you except Joel. But even if there were doctors or hospitals, you highly doubted you could find the necessary tools to extract a bullet and stitch the wound. That is, if you manage not to die of blood loss.

"Where?" Joel asks. Even beyond all this concern and well-hidden panic, he seems to cling to an ounce of hope. "Tell me where it hurts."

Your fingers gently trace your skin until they reach the area under your collarbone, and you sign to your back too. There's a bandage there, but nothing else, and that's when you notice you don't have a shirt on, just your blood-soaked bra.

"Is it bad?"

"Not that bad. The bullet went through," he said. That explains the pain on both sides of your body; you have a literal hole in your chest. "And it clotted soon enough to stop the bleeding, but you lost too much blood anyway... Anywhere else?"

Your whole body hurts and this abandoned house suddenly feels like penance, but you don't want to scare him further, so you shake your head no very slowly.

"Alright," he mumbles. Joel nods once, and it looks like he is reassuring himself. His eyes betray him, he looks like he is very far away from here, very buried under all the scenes playing on his mind; but despite his stillness, his lower lip quivers.

You can't move your right arm at all, but with the other hand, your fingers lightly touch his knuckles still resting on your stomach. He winces, and your fingers are wet with his blood too. He must have beaten to death whoever shot you, that you are certain about.

Your voice, little more than a weak breath, whispers:

"I-I want you to do it."

The crease between his eyebrows deepens. He seems confused rather than angry; the reaction you were hoping for. You take a breath to repeat your own words, but he squeezes your hand.

"Don't," he says.

"Joel..."

"Don't even think about it," he snarls. "You are perfectly fine, don't be dramatic."

You don't know what hurts more; his pain or yours, but his denial makes your eyes wet with tears again. This is already hard, but he is making it even harder. All he will achieve by trying to keep you alive is either prolonging his pain or getting himself killed. You both know this is no world for the injured and the sick, not out of the QZ, at least. And in most cases, not inside either.

All you ask of him is to not leave you for the infected to find. Is that too much to ask?

You want to insist, but you know he won't have it. Joel has lost so much already that the thought of losing what little left he has is not even going to cross his mind. Not until it's too late, at least. Also, you don't want your last moments with him to be a fight. You are tired of fighting, of swimming against the current. You just want to let go for once, give in to the external forces, close your eyes and peacefully breathe.

What's more, you should have already known that he wouldn't do you that favor. He is too selfish for that.

He pats your cheeks gently with his large hands, and your eyes, already rolling back into your skull, get focused on him again with a few blinks. You breathe slowly, trying to focus on him, on the world around you slowly twisting and turning.

"...that's it," he says, it doesn't sound like his first sentence, so you guess he's been talking to you before. When you look back at him, his breathing is shallow, and you know he is trying to take a hold of himself too, trying not to give in to panic. "Good girl, that's it. Keep your eyes on me."

Exhausted and hurting as you are, keeping your eyes open it's like asking you not to drop a weight that you cannot, in fact, handle; but you try nonetheless. It's your fault, really, for letting yourself go, for trying to give up on your fight earlier than you should. Joel is here trying to keep you alive, mending all your broken ends and stitching them together —he has always been good at that— while you're just trying to give up on him —you are really good at that too—.

Giving up on Joel has been one of the hardest things you've ever had to do; and now you're letting him go for the last time. Part of you is glad you don't have to keep watching how he chooses Theresa over and over again. You are even relieved that fate —or whatever there is out there— is forcing you out of the equation. After all, you would never have given up fully on him.

He refuses to kill you, what he doesn't know is that you've been dead for a long while now. Him being your executioner would be the kindest act he could have with you, the most intimate thing you'd ever share; your last moments. You want it to be him, you want him to free you from this torment.

He refuses, though; and it feels like a punch to the pit of your stomach. You shiver.

He gets up from his place on the floor, where you are lying just over the carpet. You follow him with your eyes and see a fire cracking up in a fucked-up chimney. He stokes the fire, throws some more wood on it and then comes back to you, covering you with his jacket, the very same jacket you had on before he turned you around. It's warm, his, and you have to stop yourself from sinking your nose into the collar.

"I had to take off your shirt to patch you up," he says, but he doesn't say sorry. Ever. So you guess it's his way of apologizing.

You simply nod, aware that you had wished for this very moment to happen many times before. You had dreamt of his rough hands over your naked flesh, caressing the sides of your body. You had dreamt of him watching you with those chocolate eyes as you took your shirt off, deep black pupils spreading over the brown as he watched the lace fall like a helpless witness.

But now the bra was covered in blood and he was watching you anywhere but the lace. He had a frightened and concerned look on his face, rather than aroused. A look that would have made you feel guilty and ashamed if it had happened in the other scenario. And instead of undressing you, he was covering your body with his jacket as if you were his child.

"What's wrong?" he is asking now, instead of whispering 'I want you' and it hurts all the same to know he's not ever going to say it, and that Tess now will have all those words for however long their lives are.

You guess they were made for each other. And it makes all the sense, really, no one like Joel would ever look at you twice. You were grateful that he even allowed you to be his friend.

"Nothing," you respond.

It's always 'nothing' when it comes to Joel. It's always that nothing whenever he notices you are under the weather. It's always nothing when you are hurt, when someone tries to rob you and they leave an angry black eye on your face. It's always nothing; and he never believes you.

"I don't make promises, you know that," he says, taking your left hand in his. "but you will be fine, I swear."

You don't know what to say, how to explain that you are not scared of death, that you are just scared of not seeing him again. But you can't, so you say nothing and just nod.

Does he want to hurt himself? Okay. You can't do much while lying on the floor anyway.

After that, both of you stay silent. Joel seems to be avoiding looking at you. His eyes are stuck in the fire creaking in the chimney, but they are too restless to be present and conscious of the yellow and orange haze.

Your palm lands on his thigh, your fingers gently brushing the denim. You want to comfort him somehow, but, at the same time, you are scared he will reject your touch and reassurance. That's all you can do for him: no words, no further touching, just a featherlight touch that indicates you are still present. There, with him.

"I thought we couldn't make a fire."

"Don't be dumb. The windows are all broken, it's winter and you are in shock. How else would you heat up?"

"Got it. You're not in a talking mood," you huff. "Alright."

Silence settles between both of you. However, one of his big, rough hands travels to where your fingertips are gently brushing his thigh. At the touch, even if you don't want to let go, your fingers begin to back off. He's not in a good mood, and you seem to be pushing his boundaries a little too much. Except that, instead of letting you go, he catches your hand in his and puts it back over his jean. This time, it's him who brushes his thumb over your knuckles.

For a minute, the only sound in the living room are both your breathing patterns, the flames licking the air and the wind rushing through the broken windows.

"I'm sorry..." you start. And immediately, his brown eyes are all over you again. Your voice sounds exhausted, more than you'd have liked. "...I fucked up the mission. I know-"

"You haven't fucked up anything," he interrupts. That's Joel, all stoic, swallowing his feelings and denying everything that it is not up to his standards. "Would you mind to just rest-"

Your eyes well with tears.

"Joel, for once... Just for once, don't lecture me, don't ignore what I'm trying to say just because you don't want to hear it," you tell him. Then, he thankfully presses his lips together in a pained grimace, but stays silent nonetheless. "I fucked up the mission getting injured. I know it isn't my fault, but it doesn't matter whose fault it is. If you wanna go on without me, I won't blame you."

His fingers are now squeezing yours, but you know he is not even conscious of that. He leans in a little, his cheeks now reddened in anger. He looks like he is about to spit on your face.

"I'm not leaving you anywhere," he says. He looks offended that you even thought he was capable of that. "You and I are gonna get to Lincoln, either if you like it or not. There, Bill and Frank will help you. We have traded all kinds of things with them, and I know they are very well supplied."

"Why would they help me?"

"They are not just people we trade with," he says. His fingertips brush a strand of hair out of your face. "I know they will."

"What if they changed their minds?"

His pupils lock into your own, his jawline swells as he grits his teeth.

"I'm persistent."

The mission was supposed to be an easy one. Walk out of the QZ undetected, walk fifteen miles to the town of Lincoln, just outside Boston, get our things and come back. Our cargo were the two last spools of aluminum that Joel had promised to trade with them and two packets of seeds. Theirs? Two pounds of rolling tobacco and a gun. Tess couldn't make it, she had appointments with other smugglers, probably the ones who snuck the drugs in; which was more than half of their business. If it wasn't that important, she wouldn't have stayed in the QZ for anything in the world. But Bill and Frank were also important, and Joel couldn't go alone.

The two of you should be home by now, and you wondered if Tess was regretting her decision of asking you to go with him. Last night you had both snuck out of the Boston QZ; and it usually didn't take more than six hours to get to Lincoln. But just outside the city you had bumped into raiders; and a stray bullet had hit you. Now you were stranded in a small cabin lost in the woods, about seven miles away from Lincoln; and unable to walk a single step.

And to top it all off, Joel was enraged and neurotic.

Still with the same expression, he takes your wrist and squeezes two fingers into it. Even if you had preferred him not to, knowing that your heartbeat got wild whenever he was around. You let him check on you, hoping that if your symptoms got better he would let you have a quick nap. Your nervousness, however, doesn't improve despite your efforts of trying to calm yourself down.

"Since when are you a doctor?"

He lets your wrist go, then gets back on his feet and gets his rifle.

"You should rest. You'lll need it," he says, now heading to the entrance. He's gonna be standing on guard all night, you are sure of that. "We're leaving tomorrow morning."

That is when you lose it. You can't believe he is that blind, that caught up in his own world.

"I know in your perfect fantasy this is just a scratch, but I truly can't move, Joel. Even laying here awake is hard. How am I supposed to follow...? Joel!"

But he's out of the house before you even finish the sentence.

[***]

Joel doesn't keep his word.

A few hours later, not even near dawn yet, you get pulled back from a dream. Your eyes take a few minutes to register your surroundings; again. And the memories gallop back to your mind in a rush; accompanied by the burning and piercing pain on the upper right side of your chest. Your eyes shut tight, and you inhale a shallow breath. Even breathing hurts.

"We need to go," Joel whispers. His voice sounds muffled, especially over the sound of your beating heart. "C'mon, wake up."

He is once again rocking you rather than shaking you awake. Just to be able to fall asleep you had rolled back into your chest, cheek once again firmly pressed against that twenty-year-old dusty carpet. When he came back from checking the perimeter, not even five minutes after your argument, he placed his backpack right under your stomach so your right side was elevated. You wouldn't have been able to fall asleep if it wasn't for that. The pain was maddening, atrociously painful. Joel had found you gritting your teeth even in your sleep.

He had said you'd leave the next day, but you felt like not even minutes had passed.

"Morning," you complained, half a grunt accompanying your words. Joel shook you gently again when he saw you relax a second time, and your voice came back. "Y-you said...mor-"

"I know what I said but we can't wait any longer," he answered. "I'm gonna sit you up."

Fear pumped enough adrenaline into your system to wake you up. The ache from before rushed back into your mind, and your 'please' and 'wait' left your mouth like a prayer.

"I can do it," you said, but it sounded more like begging than an affirmation.

"I know you can," he lied. As your eyes opened and you saw his expression —eyes focused on you, trembling hands, half of his face hidden in the shadows, the other half gently licked by the orange-like haze of the dying fire— you understood that you had to be in a really bad condition for him to look at you that way, and feel the need to lie to make you feel better. But then, a second right after that, his shoulders relaxed, his eyes fluttered between your face and the surface of his jacket over your shoulders. His stoic mask was back on. "I'm just gonna help you, okay? But you do it."

He did not, in fact, let you do it.

You had managed to lift yourself barely an inch over the carpet, using all the strength left in your healthy arm, when both his hands curled around your side and pulled you up to his chest. Clenching your jaw, you allowed him to drag you a few feet back and into a seating position against the wall; your whole weight over the left side of your body.

"Don't lean on the other side, your shoulder blade is broken."

"Oh..." you almost chuckled. "Great."

For a second, Joel looks at you as if you were completely insane. He reaches for his backpack, crouching on the place where you were lying just seconds prior. Then takes his flask and doubts when passing it on.

"I'm not that desperate for water," you respond, reaching for the flask and drinking a gulp of the liquid. You swallow despite the soreness in your throat. "Next thing you'll do is spit food into my mouth."

"Not even getting shot shuts your fucking mouth, does it?" he says, grossed out at your comment. However, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. Relaxing him has a calming effect on you too.

You try to pass him the flask again, but he refuses.

"No," he says. "Drink it all. You'll need it."

You look at him with narrowed eyes, confused. It's hard to keep a single thought in your head other than the throbbing pain in your chest and back, but you still try. Rather than asking him how you are supposed to walk seven miles, with the aluminum and his pack, you try to approach the matter another way.

"What's the plan?"

He takes a deep breath.

"You're not gonna like it," he says, his deep voice almost slurring the words. It's barely a whisper. He looks into your eyes, then. "I'm gonna carry you."

"What?"

"You heard me."

There's not an ounce of doubt in his eyes. Joel has that look of determination, the one you only really see when he has his eyes set on something really fucking important for him; most times that includes his own brother or not talking about the times before the outbreak. And with that look on his face, you know there's nothing you could possibly say or do to make him reconsider his own words. He's stubborn like that.

You still try.

"It's seven miles, Joel..." you tell him on a thready voice, a whisper. And Joel sighs through his nose —as if he had forgotten. "And we have to carry..."

"We leave everything here," he says. "Come back for it later."

"They won't let us in empty-handed."

"You don't know them."

For Joel to be so certain about it, certain enough as to put both your life and his on the hands of strangers; you understand that their relationship goes beyond trading. Joel had told you about them, about their situation and the first time Tess and him had shared dinner with Bill and Frank. Still, you were suspicious of them, and you thought that he was too; up until now, at least.

"It's still seven miles," you tell him, and you know him, you know he's about to stop talking to you and leave the room if you don't, at least, partly give in to his reasoning. "...are you sure you wanna do it?"

His pleading brown eyes engulf you, then, with an emotion he had never showed before. His gaze diverts for a second to your wound, to the bandages that, as you look at them, you find they are once again covered in blood. They are soaked in it, the skin surrounding it has a large black bruise —internal bleeding, you guess. And when you try to take a full deep breath, you find yourself unable to, at least not at full capacity.

The understanding hits you, then. You don't have much time left.

"I don't have any other choice," Joel says, but what he means is 'I don't want to lose you'.

"Okay."

Not even a full second has passed from your reluctant acceptance, but he is already on his feet. Joel walks to the only table in the room, takes your gun and puts it in his hip, right inside the jean. The only other thing he takes apart from ammo is another set of bandages —and he silently thanks whatever it is out there that he put those there a month ago—. He doesn't have anything to clean the wound, though; and one of his biggest fears is that it might already be infected. Even bandaged it looks bad.

He approaches you, crouches down so he is facing the wound.

"I'm going to tighten the bandage, and I have to keep the pressure," he says, loosening the knot. His fingers are once again stained with you blood, and he has to fight the images of him pressing on your wound from a few hours ago, when he had found you and, with trembling hands, had tried to stop the bleeding coming out in waves. He looks at you, trying to forget the awful picture of your eyes closed, your body limp on the ground. "Bite something."

You reach for the sleeve of his jacket, the one hanging from your shoulders; and put the padded cuff of his jacket into your mouth.

Joel doesn't give you a warning; and you're not sure if that's a good or bad thing, either. He presses the heel of his hand right over the covered hole in your chest, with such strength that you wonder if he will end up breaking your clavicle in half. As he presses your body against the wall, you can almost feel the cracked bones in your back smashing against each other.

Needless to say, the pain is blinding. The view of the room, the feeling of his heat around you, the scent of him under your nose... all gone in a matter of seconds. Your vision turns white, all your senses stop functioning. Over the scream that falls from your lips, muffled by the jacket, you hear him say:

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

He lets go, and your vision immediately darkens, the shadows flowing from the corners of the room quick to reach you. With your last grip on reality you feel yourself melting against the wall, slowly slipping to the side. Joel catches you before you hit the floor.

Cold water is what brings you back. Your breathing quickens at the coldness of it, and the next thing you feel are his wet hands palming your cheeks, throwing water from his flask all over your face.

"C'mon," he mumbles. "I need you awake."

Your eyes flutter open, your whole body relaxed now that he's not applying pressure; but alert enough that your unfocused eyes make a single shape out of him.

While coming back into yourself, Joel does not have any time to lose. He takes his jacket over your shoulders and slips your left arm inside the sleeve, the other, where the wound is, he decides to leave it as it is; and buttons it over your chest so you're not exposed.

"You good?"

In any other situation you'd have said some joke, or just something to piss him off. But as of right now, nothing comes to your clouded mind; and even if something did come, you're too exhausted to even do the mental effort to say it. So you just nod.

"Okay," he nods too, talking to himself inside his head, then takes your face in his hands and looks into your eyes. "You're fine, you hear me? I'm gonna carry you and you're gonna be on my back; so I need you talking all the damn time, alright?

You nod again.

"Starting now."

"Y-yes... okay."

"Good," he says. His hand crawls to the back of your neck, and he joins both your foreheads. He takes quick breaths. He's terrified when he whispers. "You're doing so good. I'm so proud of you."

"Y-you... are?"

"Mm-hmm," he says. And as his words settle into your brain, you feel your chest warm. When you open your eyes and he separates, there's a tear on his cheek, but he's quick to wipe it off. "I'm gonna open the front door."

It's just an excuse, you both know it, but neither dares to say anything. None of you wants to talk about the elephant in the room, the fact that your chances are slim even if this works.

Joel returns quickly, with his lashes wet and reddened eyes. It makes you speechless, to know that all this effort and tears are for you. You'd have never, in a million years, thought you'd ever see Joel Miller cry; let alone for you. He had always been so quiet, so detached from everyone, even from Tess.

Without a word, his hands get hooked on the underside of your thighs. He lifts you up, seemingly effortlessly, and your inner thighs surround his hips. You take a deep breath, again —or at least try to— as you try not to blush and show those feelings you buried long ago. This is not the time, nor the place; so you allow your head to follow his range of motion; forwards. Soon, your nose is pressed against the lapels of his denim shirt. With your good arm, you grab one of his broad shoulders. The other falls limp, and even that little movement hurts like hell.

He freezes, his shoulders now stiff under your hand. His beard grazes your jaw as he tries to look at you, so still in his arms.

"You okay?"

"Yeah..."

Better than okay, you want to respond. Better than I've been in a long time. But you don't.

He leaves you on the table, on the edge, with your legs dangling. His eyes waver for a second as he leaves you there, his hands squeeze your knees in such a brief movement that you wonder if he was even conscious of that. He looks like he wants to say something, but he can't think of what, so he turns around and bends his knees a little to get you to a good height.

"I need you to push yourself up with your good arm," he instructs. "and keep the other still, okay?"

"Okay," you respond, fighting the urge to just nod instead.

Not even following his instructions to a t saves you from the pain. The effort, even with your arm limp in the air, makes your body shudder and an agonizing stab runs through your whole spine. The scream that tores from the depths of your throat is so intense that Joel hesitates to put you back on the table, his back trembles for a second as his body shivers in distress. But, in the end, he has you in the air with a good hold.

He waits, but doesn't hear anything except shallow breaths, doesn't feel anything but the weight of your head over his shoulder.

"You with me?" he asks. He is seconds away from aborting the mission.

"Y-yeah..."

Your arm surrounds his neck loosely. Your fist is closed tightly, grabbing the other shoulder, and he wishes he could touch you, give you some kind of comfort, but he can't let go from his grip under your knees.

Joel does not have the privilege of time, every second is precious, so not even giving it a try, he starts walking as if you weighted nothing. He crosses the front door and the freezing cold wind of the East Coast cuts your cheeks. If he notices —and you know that he has, wearing just his shirt in the middle of the night— he doesn't react.

"Remember what I told you?" he asks.

In less than a minute he has crossed the space from the cabin to the highway, where you were surprised by raiders. You look around, see the bodies of five men sprawled on the floor; lifeless, drowning in a pool of their own blood. One of them has his face mauled to nothing. The sight is so sickening —or maybe you are getting so ill— that a sudden dizziness takes hold of your shivering body.

"Hey..."

"I'm sorry..." you start, teeth chattering from the cold. "I'm sorry I screamed into your ear earlier."

A sound, half a relieved sigh and half a chuckle, leaves his mouth.

"I'm half deaf from that ear anyway."

A light chuckle falls from your lips too. Joel keeps walking west through the highway, and you keep yourself desperately clinging to him for dear life. The moon is your only other companion; without her, you both would be completely blind in the darkness of the night.

[***]

Joel probably hadn't thought about the possibility of taking breaks along the way. That's why, fourty-five minutes later, and under a beautiful sunrise of orange tones, he's struggling to keep going. His knees are screaming for him to stop, his biceps and hands tired of walking with a person's weight over his shoulders. And for the first time in years he remembers the times before the outbreak, when he was capable of lifting and moving huge pieces of furniture; often times on his own, other times with just Tommy.

He might have overestimated his own strength, assuming he was as strong as before. But it seems that not only his mental health has deteriorated after Sarah's death, no. All of him has become older and darker and more broken since then. He hardly recognizes himself in the mirror anymore.

"Joel?"

"Yeah..." he gasps, out of air. "Sorry, I got distracted. You were saying...?"

It is in moments like this that he hates not to be that same person he was before. He wonders if he is, finally, paying for his past sins, for all the people, infected or not, that he has killed.

It is unfair, the fact that you're paying for his piper.

"You should stop for a while," you tell him, your voice low like a whisper. The warm air from your mouth slithers across his skin, up his neck, over his ear, and almost sends a shiver down his spine.

"No."

"Joel..." you huff. Before speaking again, you take a big gulp of air. "We are not getting anywhere if you don't take breaks. You'll just wear yourself off before we reach the halfway mark."

His mind refuses to agree, but it's as if his body takes a relieved breath when he hears the words. Little by little, his body starts to listen to you before his mind does. His thighs are screaming, sore from the pain of exertion; and before he acknowledges, even, his body has stopped moving.

"Okay," he gasps, quick tired breaths quickly entering and leaving his lungs. "...but just a minute, we don't have time for this bullshit."

"Okay," you say, in the same tone he used earlier with you; when he lied and said he knew you could sit up on your own. "Just a minute."

He pulls to the side of the road, and with the last of his strength he kneels down and tries to lay you on the ground as carefully as possible. You fall on your ass on the wet ground, but at least you don't hurt yourself on the spot. He asks you for the millionth time in the last twenty-four hours if you are okay.

"I think I'm doing better than you," you respond, but your voice is so exhausted that Joel would love to just lay next to you and lull you to sleep.

He turns around, his whole weight sitting on the grass as he takes gulps of oxygen. His eyes shut tightly, he wipes off a tear of sweat from his temple and looks at you.

Wide-open eyes stare back at you, but just for a split second. He gets closer, his thumb brushing the shoulder of the brown jacket, his brown jacket. His eyes pierce yours.

"Are you sure?"

"That bad do I look?"

Joel doesn't look at you, not at your face getting paler by the second or the dark circles under your eyes, or your hair now dishevelled. He sees you on his memories and can barely recognize you; your skin and eyes always glowing under the sun, your hair always perfectly done. Your job was often to act as an HR for their clients, and very rarely took actual FEDRA jobs that stained your hands; you weren't like Joel, you didn't care about rations or money or whatever.

Expert fingers gently tug at the buttons, unbuttoning them so he could take a look to the wound. He had barely a glimpse of it when your fingers stopped his hands. Joel looks at you with those puppy eyes, as if you were about to faint in the next second.

"If you wanted to see me naked you didn't have to wait until I got shot, you know?"

You had said it in a playful manner, kidding, as a joke; but he saw beyond that. Part of you had only expected him to laugh, the other was dying —not pun intended— for him to kiss you. You'd have never said it if you weren't in this position, you'd have never gotten in between Joel and Tess.

However, he didn't laugh, didn't make any funny remark. The way he looked at you, from under his eyebrows, lit a spark of hope somewhere inside you. Deep, deeper than your conscious mind would have ever reached. Joel didn't say anything, not even chuckled. His eyes came back to the wound, and uncovered the full sight of it.

He had to fight a shocked gasp. His eyes fluttered, while holding his breath, between your own face and the wound. The bandage was still soaked in blood, that he had expected, but not the large bruise growing into your neck; or your right hand slightly paler than the other. He lifted, with trembling fingers, a corner of the bandage, and his action caused a trickle of dark blood to gush out, as if he had crushed a piece of watermelon between his fingers and it was now running down his arm. He looked below, inside his jacket, and saw a trail of blood that landed right into your navel.

This time, it was impossible for him not to react. Not only his face, but also his body. He tried to get back on his two feet again, but before he finished the action, your fist closed around his wrist.

"Joel..." he heard you call.

"We need to go, now."

Pressing your lips in a sad smile, you pulled him to the ground and he sat, mesmerised on that face he had only yet seen once; that time when he got too drunk on a Friday night and told you about Sarah at three in the morning. He felt his pulse quicken, his heart beating at the ends of his fingertips.

"It's okay," you told him. Your gentle touch brushed his palm, danced around over his tan skin. "You can rest."

Joel felt like he was in a fever dream. The setting certainly felt like it. You hadn't left the Boston QZ in a long while, and he had never pictured you out of those big silver walls either. He had not agreed to Tess' idea either, the dangers beyond the walls were almost impossible to escape. Still, Tess and him knew the city, they could get out fairly easily, had done that for a couple years to share stories over dinner with Bill and Frank. And Joel had loved the idea of seeing you sitting at that dinner table next to him, surrounded by a garden full of flowers, going through the dresses in the boutique that Tess had sworn you'd love.

He had not signed up for this.

"We need to go, please..." he tried a second time, but you just shook your head. He understood, somehow, what you meant.

"A minute won't make a difference," you told him. In reality, you wanted to tell him that you'd be dead when he got the both of you to Lincoln, anyway. "If you are tired we will never get there."

Useless and powerless as he felt, his only option was waiting. He took your hand, intertwined his fingers with yours and took a deep breath. You had never seen him so upset.

"What are you so scared of?"

At your words, his lower lip quivered slightly; it would almost have gone unnoticed if it wasn't because you had been watching him attentively for so many years. He looked at you, eyes barely half open, from under his eyelashes.

"You're very important to me," he said. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, he seemed to be even more breathless than he was before. Joel had a hard time admitting his feelings, even to himself. "I don't know if you understand to what extent you're important to me."

"I know..." you answered, nodding, your hand squeezed his for a second, trying to give him strength. "But you have Tess home, and your brother loves you... It will hurt for a while..."

"Shut. Up."

His eyes were tightly shut when he said it. It was a metaphor, almost, the way his eyes were closed not just to the physical world, but to the whole situation too that he couldn't escape from.

The tip of your tongue wetted your lips.

"What I'm trying to say is... it will pass..."

His chest heaved, his gaps the only sound that filled the space between the two of you. And you continued:

"People die all the time, Joel; and most times we can't do anything about it."

His body rushed at you, his hands locked perfectly on both your cheeks, like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle finally in place.

"Not you, you hear me? Not you," he almost growled, his face a mixture of anger, determination, and grief. "Never you. You're not allowed to leave me. I will never forgive you."

There was something hidden between the lines, something Joel wasn't saying. It was something you had denied yourself for a long time, for years, something you had insisted on not seeing because you didn't want to see it. Because, deep down, you were afraid that Joel would never love you back, that he would break your heart, that the only good man you'd ever known inside the walls of the Boston QZ would also be the one to abandon you to your luck.

Joel had been your family for so long, and you had unconsciously protected yourself from seeing him as something else. But now there it was, clearly, latent in his confession. Your punishment for years of silence was now time, or rather, the lack of it.

"I'm not giving up," he said. "and I need you not to give up either."

He's close. His hot breath smells sweet -so instinctively Joel- and it's all around your face. His flesh is warm over the freezing skin of your cheeks. His body around you is shelter, is home.

Joel is soon leaning in. He's all erratic breathing, rapid heartbeat and trembling hands; and as you close your eyes to allow his presence to swallow you like a black hole, he closes his eyes too.

He doesn't let go, not just yet. He breathes in into your quick breaths the same way you revel in his.

"I need an answer," he whispers over your mouth.

"I won't, either."

At first it's like a collision. He kisses you angrily for a split second, demanding and impatient; then, once he knows this is really happening, once he does understand that this is —finally— not a dream, he relaxes into your touch, your fingers delineating his jawline, caressing the beard there.

He's quick, quicker than you'd have expected him to be; definitely quicker then he would have liked. He separates, then; and looks down at his jacket and the drops of blood staining the insides of it. It's not enough blood to send you into shock again, but it means part of the wound is ripping. You need stitches, not just a couple of bandages.

"Enough resting then," he says.

[***]

Seven miles is usually nothing for Joel. In the first few months trading with Bill and Frank, Tess and him usually walked the fifteen miles that separated the city and the town at least twice a month. But this is all the more difficult, not just carrying you there, but knowing that he is running out of time.

And you seem hellbent on making the journey even more difficult.

"So...Tess?"

"Pass."

You huff, and the warm air sends a shiver down his spine; but he says nothing.

"Okay."

Your voice sounds so disappointed that he feels a pang of guilt. You know him better than to insist, and he knows that too. The guilt increases, though; and now he's inhaling a big gulp of air while still walking as fast as he possibly can without hurting his own knees.

"We fucked a few times, before," he says. "but that doesn't mean anything. She's my colleague. That's all."

If he was better with words, and feelings, he could say that he didn't feel anything for her. He could say that their hookups were nothing, just a fun thing they used to do before, before he realized that the one who he really wanted was you. A few months back he had realized that it never actually satisfied him, that those moments with Tess weren't as fun and innocent as they seemed to be before. They had talked about it, of course. He didn't want to play with her feelings, and that had been the end of it. She was just as fine without him, anyway.

"I thought you two were dating."

"If selling drugs for a living is what you call dating, then yes."

Without even looking at you, he knew you were smiling, he could almost feel your lips stretching over his shirt.

"I..." you said, then he heard you take another deep breath before talking again. "I'm sorry I asked you," another breath. "I... ran out of things to say."

His brow furrowed in confusion.

"You can say anything," he says. "Anything you really like, even a story."

Anything just to know you're there...

"Well..." you started. Then, a wheezing noise filled the air, followed by a gasp. "I... liked rock music-" silence. "...back in the day."

"You okay?"

Your fist tightened around his shoulder, your forehead pressing against his trapezius. He heard that wheezing sound again, followed by a pant. His hands squeezed harder the tender flesh under her knees.

Joel tried to look at her, but all he could see from his peripheral vision was the top of her head and one eye tightly closed. His throat turned into knots.

"Baby..." that was the most gentle tone you had ever heard coming from his mouth. "C'mon baby. Hold on, we're almost there."

His whole body felt paralyzed, and he had to force himself to keep walking.

What he didn't know was that your lungs were burning. They felt like a pair of balloons squeezing against your ribs, trying to expand beyond its cage. And it made all the pain in your back, from the shot, double as painful. The air you tried to swallow so bad, sounded like a whistle, like the breeze through an almost closed window. You were suffocating.

"Talk to me, c'mon."

With a painful drag of air, you complied.

"I can't..." your fist tightened around the fabric of his shirt. "I can't."

"Goddamnit..." he was panicking now. "Okay, that's okay baby. Just hold on to me, don't let go."

Unable to do anything else, you just nodded as best you could and kept on holding on to him. His eyes desperately looked for signs of the town, and far away, in the distance, the row of trees ended; and he walked faster, hoping that Bill had already seen the both of you through the cameras.

"J-Joel"

You struggled to find air, and, therefore, the words.

"Easy, easy" he said. "Just a bit more. You can do it, I know you can."

His words lingered in the air, unanswered, not even him fully believed them. Joel was starting to feel his own shirt wet with blood from your wound. The feeling made him sick, his own imagination as he pictured what Bill was watching through the cameras, made it all a hundred times worse.

He kept hearing the panting, the wheezing, becoming more desperate by the second. He realized, with horror, that you were suffocating righ there, on his back; from a collapsing lung, he guessed.

He shouted Bill's name as he saw the fence that separated them from the town. Joel wasn't sure if he could hear him, but tried anyway.

He felt your grip on his shirt hesitate, and he had to fight the instinct to squeeze your hand; if he had done it, you'd have fallen from his own grip. He heard you try and say his name.

"Save it," he responded, even if it came out not as reassuring as he would have liked. "Don't try to talk."

Before he reached the fence, it was already opening. Bill came out running, yelling something that he was too distracted to distinguish, Frank came behind him. Joel felt his knees wobble once through the gate. And now kneeling on the floor, he called your name, tried to turn his head to take a glimpse of you.

"You did it. We're here."

He noticed, then, that everything seemed all too silent. Everything that happened after that, happened very quickly. The hand that had been gripping his shirt slipped, limp over his shoulder.

His mind disconnected, completely unaware of the other two people approaching. He released you with all the care that a person could have had, and his arms immediately caught you in an embrace. The sight of your closed eyes made him panic, and not having even checked your pulse, he buried his face into your neck and sobbed.

Trails of blood ran through his forearms, and he threw up all the words that passed through his mind; a string of 'please stay' and 'I'm sorry'.

"Joel," Frank struggled with him, fingers digging into his shoulder. "Joel you have to let go. Let us help her."

He was too far gone, so much so that once your body hit the floor, Frank didn't allow him to touch you again. He sobbed, and, for a second, Bill saw himself in him. He would have never thought he would see Joel in this state, but yet there he was. He kept pressure on the wound, and saw himself in Joel, and Frank in you; and promised he would never let this happen to the two of them.

Never.

[***]

The sun comes out the next morning. As it always does, as it always has. Orange light and blue skies illuminate the room, the clouds shine a different color; and Joel blinks; absolutely exhausted, devastated.

His body is heavy, even if he's not holding any of his weight. He's sitting on the cold tiles, on the floor, his sore knees and thighs in the space under the bed, his head lying on the mattress, his whole body is bent over and it feels like jelly. His eyes are the only thing moving, they look at the window and see the night sky turn into daylight.

Joel couldn't possibly say that he slept in that position; because he didn't actually sleep. He hasn't had a second of sleep since you got shot two days ago. Lying on the bed, is you, dormant; and his thumb draws circles on the back of you hand even if he's not paying attention to it. It comforts him to a degree, at least.

Suddenly, pretty much everything has lost its meaning. Frank opens the door an hour later, almost tripping with the tray of food and water that he left the night before for Joel. He hasn't touched any of it. In fact, he forgot about it, but if it bothers him, Frank doesn't say anything. He takes it in his hands so he can take it to the kitchen downstairs.

"We played 'I will survive' in the radio" he whispers before leaving. "It's a 70s song, but Tess will get the meaning."

"Thank you," he mutters, his mouth pasty from barely speaking in the last twenty-four hours. Funnily enough, the only word he's said to them is 'thank you'.

"You're welcome, Joel," he says. After a few seconds, waiting, he makes a dissatisfied sound. Frank approaches Joel, his palm squeezing his shoulder. "You should eat something, at least. Is there anything you want?"

Joel looks at him, lifting his cheek from the mattress for the first time. His eyes are blood-shot and black circles adorn his eyes.

"Coffee."

"Not coffee, you need sleep."

He huffs, his eyes lost in the window again. Frank, knowing he won't get anything from him again, vanishes behind the door and into the kitchen. He will bring him warm food later, hoping the smell will make him eat something despite his unwillingness to listen to any signal of hunger from his own body.

A few moments later, your hand slips from his. As he loses your touch, a pang hits the pit of his stomach. But then, as he lifts from the mattress again, your fingertips lightly touch his chin, your thumb lovingly brushing his beard.

"Baby?"

Maybe he lost his sense of time, because he didn't expect you to wake up yet. In any case, when he sees your eyes open he practically pounces on the bed. He sits on the edge, and swallows the image of you looking at him.

"Morning."

He smiles at your words, feels his strength coming back into his body.

"You're here," he says.

Even beaten up as you look, he thinks you are gorgeous. Your face has regained its usual color, the bruising is coming down, changing colors little by little, the wound is stitched and bandaged, and the blood flow seems to reach your fingertips normally once again. Joel has no idea how Bill fixed the collapsing lung, he had said something about medical knowledge being necessary in the field too, but he hadn't paid attention. He doesn't care about the details, though. He just cares that you're safe and sound, and despite the close call, that has seemed to be the end result to this whole dilemma.

There's no blood in sight, not even in the bandages. Frank had washed the blood from your hair the day before, and Joel had helped with the rest. He wished he could have you like this everyday: happy, clean, safe...

In the last few hours Joel had discovered he was jealous. He wished he had a town like Lincoln all to himself, just so he could see you picking flowers in the front garden.

"I'm here," you told him. The words felt like strawberries in his mouth. "and I'm not giving up on you."

He released a breath he didn't know he was holding, leaned in for both your foreheads to meet, and kissed you.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #tlou fanfic #tlou spoilers #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x female reader #the last of us fanfic #pedro pascal x oc

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nerinefy · 14 days

Text

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A LIFE WITH HIM ; FT. some OVERBLOT BOYS .𖥔 ݁ ˖

★ synopsis: how will they be like as your partner?

★ details: you/yours | headcanon | too much fluff | 1,000+ words

✦ ┊RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

PHYSICAL AFFECTION (GIVING & RECEIVING)

★ not too big on PDA, so expect that the most skin-to-skin contact you two can have outside is the occasional hand-holding. he likes it when he's the one initiating the gesture whenever you two are out and about since he still can't help but have the need to be in control even after his overblot (like leading you to places and making sure ur still by his side).

★ he doesn't admit it but he loves when you link your arm with his and nuzzle your face into his shoulder (although he will still scold you if you do it) ESPECIALLY when he's in a mood and is almost about to off the heads of some rule-breakers OR maybe when you're giving too much attention to a rando because he may not admit it but he's greedy and wants your eyes on him only (but he's a gentleman and will never speak about it, only dismissing his inappropriate thoughts.)

★ in private though he's just a snuggly little cuddle bug, even more so if he's tired or stressed or most likely both. so many responsibilities are piled up on his plate just in his second year so the only thing that keeps his shit together is your warm and loving embrace. HE'S A SMALL SPOON. NO BACKSIES, okay maybe he's a big spoon if you're the one who needs a little more loving.

GIFT-GIVING

★ i mean from the name itself ROSEHEARTS, roses are his go-to (he's corny but we love him like that), but if you have a different favorite flower then he'll get those, and if you're allergic he'll try to make those handmade ones! although a little sloppy, pretty successful for his first try. overall he likes giving the traditional gifts like bouquets, stuffed animals, and chocolates :) but if he gets to know you more it might be more personal and intimate stuff that fits your tastes, and of course, should be of use to you too.

THE SIMPLE THINGS

★ whenever you're stuck on a study session late at night he likes inviting you to take a break and brew some tea for you. he'll even share some sweets that Trey gave him. although he won't leave you alone after he finds you like that, instead he pulls out some reviewers he has and helps you work on whatever you find difficult to understand.

WORD AFFIRMATIONS

★ "Our race is nowhere near finished, so please my rose, stay strong, I know you can and want to do so. I am always by your side okay?"

✦ ┊LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

PHYSICAL AFFECTION (GIVING & RECEIVING)

★ hugs, hugs, and MORE HUGS. just lots of hugs! doesn't matter if he's a big spoon or small spoon, he needs you by his side 24/7, 365. he just has to have his scent all over you u know, half-breed things. this man is just lazing around anywhere so might as well bring his favorite pillow with him. and no, he doesn't care if you have class and need to take a test worth half your grade, he needs you more! ★ of course, he doesn't have long-ass hair for nothing, go be his peasant and brush it, most preferably with your fingers if he's having a good hair day. your soft fingers massaging his scalp are quite literally going to take him to heaven, and he'll have no regrets tho so go pocket something if that happens. ★ he doesn't pick favorites when it comes to giving and receiving physical affection, he just wants his hands all over you and if the job is done then he's good.

GIFT-GIVING

★ honestly man, i don't know with him. he's raised right so of course he gives you stuff like flowers and so on. on the other hand tho he isn't the type to know what you like and will most likely just ask you what you want him to give you. maybe he'll just take you to go fetch them at the store itself if he isn't sure. but on special days like your birthday or your anniversary (assuming ya'll would last more than a week), he actually tries and it's pretty sweet and more elaborate.

THE SIMPLE THINGS

★ whenever he's forcibly on a call with his brother, which surprisingly is turning into a regular thing, if Farena asks about how he's doing, Leona likely ends up only yapping about you. i mean yeah he missed his last test and he spent his allowance for the month in a week but does Farena know about the time you were mumbling Leona's name in your sleep? he will deny it if he's called out for doing so. NO, HE DID NOT PERIOD. *hangs up*

WORD AFFIRMATIONS

★ "Whatever you're thinking of, don't. It's stupid. As much as I don't like admitting this, you're strong, and even more than most beastmen if you set your mind to your goals."

✦ ┊AZUL ASHENGROTTO

PHYSICAL AFFECTION (GIVING & RECEIVING)

★ man's busy all the time so it's hard to get your hands on him. even if he's not busy, he will sprint for his life just to get away from you. not that he dislikes your affection, the concept is just a little foreign to him. give him time to adjust, then you'll find out how soft his tentacles are! ★ when he's actually busy and working on stuff in his office (when the time comes and he's comfortable) he likes it when you flop yourself on his lap and nuzzle into his chest. he feels guilty that he can't give full focus to you since his schedule truly is packed but you inviting yourself into his office at late hours of the day just to snuggle comforts and assures him in some way. he'll definitely find more time for you, he's trying his best lol! ★ overall he isn't one to initiate the touching even if he's fully vulnerable for you. idk too ask him about it. he's just happy you like him enough that you cling unto him. but if you ask him he may favor hand-holding the most, it may be the least contact but feeling your hand on his is enough for him.

GIFT-GIVING

★ HE KNOWS EVERYTHING. i'm not even kidding, even when it's no special day he'd likely buy stuff just because it reminded him of you or when you coincidentally need it which is pretty cute but can be a little creepy.

THE SIMPLE THINGS

★ i saw a fic back then that said he gives you some coupons and by some i mean a TON in hopes that you visit the Lounge and that is absolutely true. though he forgets you two are together and he can ask you nicely to come over but who can say no to 30% off all menu items?

WORD AFFIRMATIONS

★ "My, how could I ever deny what that cute head of yours and those strong arms of yours can do! You are a valuable asset to me...what kind of asset? Well...it's up to you to decide."

✦ ┊JAMIL VIPER

PHYSICAL AFFECTION (GIVING & RECIEVING)

★ he's also busy, honestly might be one of the, or if not the busiest of all of these guys. when you two have time to be together tho, even if he's knocked out and drained, he'll never show it. but i can say that's only during the early stages of your relationship with him and depending on how you two met. he likes to present himself in his best state and he really can't do so with his schedule so eventually he just melts and the next thing you know he's hugging you from the back any chance he gets and you feel his heartbeat turn slower by the minute. ★ for those moments that he sees you out and about though he likes patting your cute lil head, no matter what your height is. though he is trying to be a little adventurous with you so he leans in to caress your hair gently and suddenly you're met with a quick smooch. (only when there's no one else in sight so yeah adventurous my ass) ★ like leona, he loves it when you play with his hair, and he does not like to admit it. just remember to keep it neat and use a brush while you're at it, plus a facial and maybe a massage because i know those muscles are TIGHT.

GIFT-GIVING

★ his gifts reek of HANDMADE. idk he has those vibes. handmade flowers, or some origami of cute animals, but he likes giving you handwritten letters the most. it can be hard to communicate his real feelings to you so writing is a way for him to freely and easily express those feelings.

THE SIMPLE THINGS

★ whenever he cooks for Kalim or just whenever he cooks, he suddenly has some leftovers that he decided he'd pack up for you. can't bring himself up to say that excuse so he just gives it to you and walks away.

WORD AFFIRMATIONS

★ "Whining is useless. Do the things you're good at, stop worrying about the things you can't. Oh, I'm sorry...did that come off too harsh?"

★ author's note: congratulate me for coming back. BASK IN MY GLORIOUS PRESCENCE. (i missed u guys too ig)

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yanderestarangel · 20 days

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So I saw a MSFW picture of Miguel and I had an idea.

Stepfather Miguel x FTM reader. The plot is that stepfather Miguel has been possessive and obsessed with his ftm stepson and the stepson actually enjoyed the older man’s attention.

The main smexy part is that Miguel asks his stepson to give him a pink desert. The reader thought Miguel meant a cake until Miguel pushes him on the kitchen counter and starts eating out his pussy (the pink desert was the readers cunt.)

- 🍒 anon. (You don’t have to do this request if it makes you uncomfortable! Love your works.)

TW: SMUT, EAT OUT, DIRTY THOUGHTS, CHUBBY/DAD BODY MIGUEL, FTM READER, BRAIN ROT, HANDJOB, STEPFATHER X STEPSON.

I think it's cute when anons use emojis to identify themselves (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠✧⁠*⁠。

art credit @/marmar0u on twitter (X)

Miguel was a man of forty-three years old, with a poorly groomed beard and some white hair in his locks ─ despite his tall stature he already had a "dad body" physique with a protruding tummy and some rough muscles in his arms and thighs... And now he had entered your family. You didn't like the idea of having a stepfather at first, but what was supposed to be a bad relationship became like a balm for your stressful days.

It was common for the older man to spoil you with expensive gifts like perfumes, clothes and everything you asked for or wanted; your desires were his desires too. Honestly, it seemed like he was more attached to you than his own wife. Miguel protected you from everyone who tried to go against you and you could always count on his soft lap and good hugs at the end of the day. Your stepfather loved having you in his arms, close to him... In his control.

It was obvious to outsiders that Miguel was a man obsessed with you, possessive and jealous. No man or woman could come close to his beloved stepson ─ he used manipulation, threats and even money to keep you all to himself, especially being the only father figure you had in your life. Bringing you close to him with praise for every little thing you did wasn't difficult, especially when you cooked for him.

In the distorted head of your dear stepfather, every dish made for him was a preparation for you to be his little husband one day, perhaps when he would have enough courage to ask for a divorce from your mother; but until then he liked to have control of his body and mind.

── That was supposed to be an ordinary night, the warm afternoon gloom still hung in the air as you walked around the house to prepare dinner since your mother had gone out to visit some of your relatives. You obviously preferred to stay in the company of your stepfather Miguel, who was drinking some beer in the living room armchair and watching every move you made around the kitchen.

He had controlled himself a lot in the last few days and gave you more personal space than he should have, making you even meet new people. Jealousy consumed every fiber of the tanned man's being, leading him to have a simple idea to put you in your place.

"You know boy, I wanted you to make a pink dessert would you give me?" His voice came out hoarse as you watched the older man stand up to his full height, as you saw him smirk mischievously, his adam's apple bobbed visibly, desire pooling in his voice.

You initially agreed innocently, already getting ready to get the ingredients and make a strawberry cake, but soon you felt thick calloused hands on your wrists as he bent you under the cold marble counter and pulled down your shorts along with your underwear ── exposing the pink flesh of your pussy, while you felt his breath mixed with expensive drink. Miguel savored the sight of your exposed little cunt, his hunger growing with each passing second. He lowered his head further, capturing your clitoris between his lips and flicking it gently with his tongue.

"Oh, you taste delicious mi hijo," he moaned against your flesh, suckling and nibbling at your sensitive bud. His hands gripped your thighs harder, spreading you wide open for his pleasure. He paused momentarily, admiring the pink folds of your sex before delving back in, eager to explore every inch of you. His tongue darted inside, teasing and probing, causing your hips to buck deliciously.

"I could eat you out all night, boy... Does it feel good? Is this what you wanted, baby boy?" His fingers dug gently into your thighs, seeking permission with his gaze. As you nodded regardless of whether it is right or wrong he dove back in, licking and sucking your clit with renewed vigor, savoring the taste of you. His tongue danced around, teasing your folds and driving you further into pleasure.

He growled low in his throat, responding to the dominance behind your request. His fingers bit into your flesh harder, claiming ownership as he devoured your pussy. Each thrust of his tongue was a claim, each suckle a promise. An intense heat surged between us, fueling the connection and burning brighter with every pass.

He thrust blindly, driven by a newfound ferocity. The sweetest sound escaped your mouth-your pleas for 'papi'-and he used it to feed his hunger. His free hand reached for his erection, stroking it through his boxers ─ "So you enjoy being ravaged by your papi, mi pequeño?" Miguel purred, his grip on his cock tightening as he watched your reaction.

Each stroke matched the rhythm of his tongue, mirroring the passion between you both.

Every time he swirled it around your clit, his shaft leapt in his hand, pulsating in sync. His tongue lashed at your most sensitive spots, eliciting fresh moans from deep within you.

The combination of stimulation left you gasping under his careful touch; Miguel was determined to send you high... A desperate need to please, to dominate, consumed him entirely. His beard scraped against your skin with each frantic movement, adding another layer to the sensations engulfing you.

His tongue lashed at your clit, twirling it one last time to push you over the edge. His hand pumped furiously, matching the intensity of your release. Watching you climax drove him wild, a surge of pure hunger coursing through him. He pulled away reluctantly, leaving your pussy wet and quivering from the attention. With a final, satisfied stroke, he came undone, splattering onto his stomach. A growl resonated in the air as he relished the view of your satisfaction.

His chest rose and fell heavily, his gaze locked on your flushed face. Victory and possession painted across his features, a silent declaration of his newfound control. Your stepfather leaned down to kiss your dripping slit, a quiet congratulations for reaching a peak only he could provide.

"Next time, it'll be my turn mi hijo... Thanks for the dessert."

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lookingformoondrop · 6 months

Note

OMG FINALLY SOMEONE WHO WRITES ABT THE COFFIN OF ANDY AND LEYLEY AAA

Honestly I'd take any writing about Andy LMFAO whatever you want to write, I'd just love to read something, be it headcanons or some short story <3

Absolutely! I was shocked when I tried finding content for TCOAAL, and there was none💀. For the sake of fluff Andy, the reader is the closest thing Andy has to a sister!

*Leyley doesn't exist*

P.S. Hopefully, this isn't OOC. This is also not proofread, so

I hope these meet your expectations <3

Andrew Graves x female best friend! Reader

TW: Everyone has a filthy mouth (swearing)... N/M = Nickname ♡

♡925 WORDS♡

Ever since Andrew was a kid, he was treated more as his parent's friend than their kid.

This often meant that Andrew was forced to miss out on childish routines like throwing a tantrum, making a mess, having fun the loud way, and making mistakes, simply because "he was so easy."

If he were to add to his parents' load of problems, he wouldn't be able to live with himself, let alone sleep.

But that was all before he met you.

Every Friday, Mrs. Graves would give Andrew money to go on a snack run for the weekend.

But no matter what he did, no matter when or how he entered the grocery store, this little girl (no less than five) would terrorize Andrew.

"She's so annoying, mom! She always snatches the snacks I go for and then bolts for the next aisle. Then she just giggles and runs away with MY TOMATO SOUP."

Mrs. Graves sighed and turned around to face her son, "Andrew, just because a little five year old girl is taking some of the same snacks as you DOES NOT MEAN I am letting you shop at a different store! 'Shop Shop Shop and Shop, with more Shop' is the best for low-deals and prices. Please don't be difficult."

With no other choices, Andrew was forced to continue shopping.

Every week, she did the same thing. She'd sneak up behind him when he wasn't paying attention. She'd snatch the poor snack out of Andrew's hand and would bolt out of the aisle.

And everytime she did this, Andrew would grow angrier and angrier.

Finally, when the little girl stole the hundredth can of soup from his hand, Andrew turned around and grabbed the little girl's hair.

"AHH! Get off of me asshole!"

"You little shit! Give me that can back!"

They'd fight over the can of soup in the middle of the aisle for the next 10 minutes before the store owner kicked them out for "public disturbances."

Now, without his can of soup, sitting at the curb outside the store, with new bite marks along his arm, Andrew was more pissed than ever.

"What the hell is your problem? Do you just find malicious torment funny, you borderline psycho?"

Andrew turned towards the girl. She turned her smile towards Andrew, "Nah, just you."

Annoyed and exhausted, he put his face in his hands.

She thought for a moment , "No one plays with me, so I figured I should play with someone who looked as miserable as me."

Andrew looked at her through his fingers, "What about me screamed misery?"

She put a finger on her bottom lip, deep in thought, "You just have this face,"

Andrew scoffed at the girl, burying his face in his knees. She giggled.

"You just naturally look like an asshole"

"Watch your language, you fucking shit!"

Andrew went to grab the girls hair, "You dont even know my name, and yet you're calling me an asshole!? No wonder you dont have any friends."

She slapped Andrew's hand before it could reach her, "Well, what's your name?"

Andrew hesitated, "It's...Andrew Graves. What's yours?"

The little girl smiled, "Y/N L/N, your new best friend, Aaaaandy."

Andrew sat lazily with Y/N, laying on his lap. He cringed when he thought about their first meeting.

Of all the things they could've fought about, it was a can of soup... God, they're fucking stupid.

Since that day, Y/N would beg Andrew for attention and fun. She'd stalk him when he was out and about and would drag him away from any errands he was requested to run on.

"Leave me alone, N/M"

"Make me~"

"Please?"

"Lame. Now I have to come with you! With that bitch ass attitude you'll get beat up."

"Great."

And when Andrew accidentally reveal his address? Andrew was permanently stuck with Y/N.

Every Friday, she'd follow Andrew home, and even when Mr. and Mrs. Graves questioned the foul-mouth girl Andrew would never offer an explanation better than, "Some stray I picked up that won't let go. I have to keep her."

"Aaaaandyyy, can you change the channel? I don't want to lift my eyelids."

Andrew sighed, "The remote is right by your leg, dumbass"

"So?" She scoffed, "reach it for me."

"It's closer to you than it is to me!"

"Andy change the goddamn channel!"

"i'm not getting up just because your ass wants to be lazy!"

"ANDREW"

"Y/N"

Even if that meant pissing each other off with meanless schemes.

Despite their bickering that has made local pedestrians' ears bleed, they still were there for each other in everything.

"Whatever, you dumb bastard," Y/N mumbled to herself.

Andrew played with Y/N's hair as he stared at the mindless TV.

"Veronica Steveson asked me out to the date."

"Aw, poor hussy"

"Ouch, you think so lowly of me?"

"No, I just assumed you said no," Y/N continued to watch the TV.

"Why would I...?" Before Andrew could finish his sentence, Y/N sat up and stared at him with intense eyes.

"Do you like her?"

"W- Well no, but it's not like any other girls are crawling to date me"

Y/N scoffed at Andrew, flicking his forehead, "That's because you're stupid to notice."

She laid back down on his lap, and Andrew secretly smiled to himself. "So...who aren't I noticing?"

"Your mom."

"Y/N GROSS!"

And even if no one admitted it out loud, and even if you blushed one too many times around each other, you belonged with each other.

"But seriously, Andy, pass me the remote"

"Eat shit, N/M"

Thank you for the ask <3

#the coffin of andy and leyley #andrew graves #andrew graves x reader #andy graves #andy graves x reader #x reader #y/n #y/n fanfic #headcanons #drabble #cussing #dem kids swear up and down #tw swearing #ooc #maybe idk #ughhhh #sorry

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miley1442111 · 1 month

Text

thank god for dr. spencer reid

a/n: this was written with a fem!reader in mind but imagine what you want, reader has a period (same girl) :) spencer us such a cutie in this :)))))))

summary: your shitty family is in town and spencer is away, what will you do?

pairing: spencerreid x reader

warnings: heavy family issues, mentions of stress and sickness, very brief mention of abuse (litch not talked about just referenced dw), kinda cursing (just realised i've never warned this before... opps) and i might've missed some!

My eyes are glued to the screen with a perpetual frown playing on my lips. It’s hard to try to care about my job when I have this looming feeling of dread hanging over me like a cloud. Spencer has been MIA for days now. He left in a hurry on Monday night for a case. It’s Saturday now and he hasn’t been responding to my calls. On top of that, I have dinner with my mother and father. Both of them make it abundantly clear that they’re disappointed in my career choice, which is ridiculous because I’m a lawyer. Not the right kind of lawyer they constantly say. I’m an environmental lawyer and I make good money. The only way to satiate their insufferable whining is with Spencer. They love him. They probably love him more than me at this point. Alas, I will just have to deal with them alone tonight. And today has already been one hell of a day. First, Morgan called me,asking where Spencer was, telling me that they finished and that they should be home soon. He had not come home yet. Secondly, I feel like shit, an allergic reaction, my period and some random nausea all add up to making me feel itchy, gross, and practically vile all over. Thirdly, a huge pimple has decided to pop up on my face and just know my mother will comment on it. My mother is one of those women who look effortlessly put-together 24/7. I am not one of those women. She does not like women who don’t look effortlessly put together. Aka, she barely tolerates me.

I sigh and close my laptop screen, unable to reread the same few sentences again and again, hoping that they would get into my brain. I’m defending a client, one of my firm's biggest clients, in court next week. They were accused of illegal dumping (dumping they did not commit) and now they’re being sued for 2 million dollars. I slump out of my desk chair and out of my home office, locking it behind me for the weekend ahead. If I have court next week and Spencer is coming home after a difficult case, then we’ll need a day or rest and relaxation together. That is, if he even bothers to come home. I busy myself with getting ready and try to push those thoughts out of my head.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The last hour of my life has been 60 minutes of absolute misery. Why did I ever accept this invite? My mother excuses herself to the bathroom and my father excuses himself for a cigarette, I nod along. Then it hits me… my dad doesn’t smoke anymore. I stare at the door and before I can stop myself my face contorts into a frown once again. Amelia, my sister. The sister that I haven't seen in years. The sister that bullied and abused me throughout our teenage years. Fuck.

“Amelia?” I question, looking at the blonde woman who looks… different. She’s obviously older than I remember, and a bit more… I don’t know how to put it. Her blonde hair surpasses her waist and she seems to be pregnant? Her blue eyes seem dull and lack a certain vividness they used to sparkle with. She’s the typical peaking in high-school mean girl who became a nurse girl. I honestly can’t believe I used to look up to her.

“It’s so good to see you!” She smiles, one of her fake-bitchy smiles and I grimace as she tries to hug me. “I just wanted to know how you’re doing, especially with the baby on the way, I’ll need all the help I can get!”

My heart drops. “Oh!” Is all I can manage. She sits in the seat beside me and I instinctively move further away. Just as I think this stupid dinner can’t get any worse, her pervy fiancé, Johnny, walks in.

“No Spencer?” He smirks. “What? Did you two break up? He was always too vanilla for you, you need a real man-”

“No, sorry. I was just late. I had to come straight from the jet,” Spencer smiles from behind him. My parents' eyes light up, as Amelia and Johnny’s faces fall. I smile appreciatively at him as he hands the flowers he brought over to my parents and sits beside me, a comforting hand on my thigh.

“How’s work, Spencer?” My father asks, his undivided attention on Spencer.

“It’s good, strenuous but good. Our cases recently haven’t been too difficult- though there was one that had a puzzle I thought you might enjoy…”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I walk inside our house behind him, a million thoughts at once flowing through my head. We walk to the kitchen, he sits me down and takes off my shoes for me, a true gentleman.

He presses a kiss to my cheek and smiles. “You look beautiful.”

I just nod back, a small smile on my lips.

“Is everything alright?” He asks, turning to me, his hands resting on my waist.

“Fine,” I tiredly smile. “Just… you know, it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“You know, saying that makes me worry more, right?:” He smiles softly, though we both know he’s serious.

“I just… I can’t believe she just showed up, like 7 years of not seeing her and she just shows up? Like it’s casual? And then asks for our help with her baby? Like she did nothing to me? Like she-” I stop myself, determined not to cry right now.

“Angel, it’s ok, let it out,” he soothes, a hand on my back, rubbing comforting circles.

“I don’t want to cry though, they’re not worth crying over.”

“Then how about we get ready for bed, yeah angel?” He offers, a tired look in his eyes. I nod and press a soft to his perfect lips. He smiles against my mouth, his hands finding the sides of my face. I run a hand through his hair. He pulls away softly, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” I smile. “Thank you for coming, my knight in shining armour.”

“I enjoyed it. Watching your father fail to solve a simple puzzle was amusing.” He smirks, a mischievous glint in his eye as I roll my eyes.

“We’re not all geniuses,” I remind him.

“You are.”

“And how am I a genius?” I chuckle.

“You’re dating me, you clearly have superior taste and intelligence,” he says matter-of-factly. I gigle at his antics and kiss him again. He pulls away and grabs my hand, leading me into our room. We both opt out of brushing our teeth and washing our faces, a makeup wipe sufficing for removing my makeup. He pulls me into bed with him, and finally, after a long week, I finally lie down in bed with him, his arms around me in a bear-hug of sorts. This is heaven. He’s my knight in shining armour. Thank God for Dr. Spencer Reid.

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #bau imagine #bau team #criminal minds x you #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #criminal minds imagine

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

Note

kind of stupid butttttttt- Koenig/Ghost with a cat girl reader? <3

Ghost & König’s Reaction to You Being a Cat Girl

Warnings: Implied Smut/Sexual Content, Scary Dog Privilege, Pet Names, Sadism, Masochism, Scratching, Mention of Objectification (Consensual), Collar Mentioned, Female Reader.

Ghost

Absolute menace.

The first time he found out, he was shocked, to say the least, given how you managed to hide your ears and tail so well.

But he adjusts fairly quickly.

Sometimes, to get your attention or to get you to come to him when he can’t find you at home, he’ll shake your favourite box of cereal or call “Pspspspspsps–” until you come clamouring round the corner for your food.

He’s always twitching to touch your ears. Just finds them so cute and soft, and while he would never touch them without your permission, he’s dying to.

Sometimes you tease him and bonk your head against his side, give a tiny, fragile purr, and disappear into the midnight corners of the house.

But, when you can see Simon’s had a difficult day, you’ll lay in his lap and let him stroke your head, snuggling into him.

Though it’s not that you don’t like having your ears stroked; you just know that, if you were to let Simon do it, you’d never let him stop.

You’re always really warm and purr a lot, so Simon calls you his “Little engine”.

“‘Cause I’m driving my love van into your heart :3 !” – You say, absolutely oblivious to the cuteness overload you’ve just subjected him to.

Whenever you intentionally (or unintentionally) act cute, it sends Simon feral.

He definitely has a thing for pulling on your tail and making you cry.

Sadist to the max.

“Don’t mewl like that, Sweetheart,” he tells you, your tail in one hand and the lead to your collar in the other.

“Or I might just have to make you cry louder.”

Has a collar with a pendant engraved with the words ‘Property of Simon Riley’ made for you. But he only uses this on a few occasions.

He’d never make you wear it if you didn’t want to; he doesn’t want you to feel like he’s forcing you into a demeaning position.

His names for you vary, but the ones he uses in private are usually cat-related.

Kitty, Kitten (he uses this one unironically – he’s not chronically online so he doesn’t understand the implications), Kitty Girl.

He loves you soooo much, it hurts.

Scary dog privileges for the cat girl he bagged by being quiet and mysterious (unable to talk to you because he thought you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen).

He genuinely cannot believe his luck; he thinks you must be some artefact sent from the heavens to compensate for the trainwreck his life has been up until he met you.

He’s never felt more alive than when he’s with you.

And he’ll break the minds, bodies and spirits of anyone who tries to take you away from him <3.

König

Has a tendency to talk to you like how any owner talks to their pets.

“Does my pretty little Princess want her dinner now ? Oh yes she does, oh yes she does !”

He doesn’t mean to, honestly.

But ever since he found out you were a cat girl, he just can’t help himself.

It’s second nature to him.

He also tends to treat you as if you’re much more fragile than you actually are, but that’s because he’s never seen you defend yourself (because you don’t have to. König’s immense size and stature has effectively made you the social equivalent of Chernobyl, in that everyone remains outside a fifty-metre radius of you when you’re with him).

If you sit in his lap, he’ll actually die.

And if you start purring–

He’s GONE.

The sound is enough to not only fry his brain, but send him to sleep.

Hence he cannot sleep without you. Which makes his deployment exceedingly difficult for him.

He looks for any and all excuses to pet you.

He’ll straight-up ask you if you want him to scratch behind your ears, and he’ll keep going until you start to feel raw and ask him to stop.

He loves you so much – he can’t bear to be without you for any period of time.

Which, given how you can be rather solitary in nature, leads you to seek out the most inopportune places to catch up on some sleep.

He’s found you curled up in the wash basket before now.

And on top of a bookshelf.

And rather than be offended, he was overwhelmed by how adorable you were, curled up into a ball of almost nothing.

Yes, he did take pictures. Yes, he does keep them under his pillow so he can look at them when you’re asleep or away.

When it comes to the saucy stuff, König tends to hold back. A lot.

He’s absolutely massive and he doesn’t want to hurt you, especially since there’s more of a risk of him doing so by standing on your tail or catching your ears.

But whatever fear he possesses vanishes when you show him how flexible you are. Which has led to some…interesting positions, to say the least.

Btw, he’s a massive masochist. Just a sucker for pain.

Definitely the type to intentionally push you over the edge so you’ll scratch his back.

You have much sharper nails than the average person, which means it’s easier for you to cut deeper without applying much force.

And König loves it.

He has a high pain tolerance so he can withstand the burning sensation of you dragging your nails down his back and get lost in the fact that you’re marking him as yours.

During moments like this, he calls you ‘Kitty’ more than your actual name.

Outside of the bedroom, it’s literally impossible for him to call you anything other than “(Y/N)-Baby, where’s my little (Y/N)-Pie ?”

And you always come running because you know there’s a big cuddle attached to the end of that pet name <3.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

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jester-lover · 1 year

Note

What about dorm leaders with Morticia-like s/o?

Friday, I'm in Love

the dorm leaders with a morticia-like s/o

cw- fem! reader, fluff, mentions of the boy's insecurities, reader being literally the hottest woman alive (author is a goth and loved this)

Riddle

He’s wrapped around your finger and he doesn't even know it

This man sees you for the first time, elegant and refined, and he comes barging towards you

Tries his best to maintain all the manners his mother taught him, but it's so difficult considering just how beautiful and smart you are

Loves dancing with you, especially if you end up guiding and taking the lead, he’ll be absolutely enamored with your confidence

His most favorite thing to do with you, however, is to show you how much power he has over other students, he thinks it’ll make you like him if he’s all big and strong

Honestly you couldn't care less

Tea parties certainly run smoother with you around, because the freshmen don't want to embarrass themselves around a cool and calm young woman like you

In terms of fashion, Riddle appreciates your monotone, sleek wardrobe, even if he desperately wishes you’d wear lower heels so he could appear taller

Riddle’s fiery ambition, and your cool, motherly personality is a combination no one expected

But the two of you know better, the differences in your personality only highlight your individual achievements, pushing you ever closer together

“Dear, you look absolutely exceptional, but perhaps refrain from adding spiders to your hair?”

Leona

Leona loves tough, strong women

(he also lowkey loves women who scare him)

He was first attracted to your confidence, how you turned heads just by strolling past, head held up high and heels tapping

He felt a sense of nervousness he hadn't ever felt before when he tried to ask you out

The two of you are both just so relaxed and aloof, with a hidden romantic side

He puts a considerable amount of effort into your relationship, more than he’s probably ever done for anyone, because you're the most special person in his life

Leona has a deep inferiority complex, and he wants you to know that he can provide for you and be the man you need

You have a natural deadpan sense of humor, and the casually dark things you say often make him laugh

He feels genuinely very calm around you, leading to a lot of afternoon naps

“Why don’t we continue our necromancy discussion after a quick nap?”

Azul

Azul is an appreciator of smooth, sleek and professional aesthetics like yours

By this, I mean he most likely cannot make eye contact with you until you approach him

Your first date is probably a ruinous meal at the Monstro Lounge where he spills his drink all over himself, he gets so humiliated, but you find it adorable

The way he stumbles over himself trying to impress you is so cute, you ask him for another date

The way that this boy worships your every step is noticeable, especially by the tweels, who consistently tease him

The similarity between your clothing is one of his favorite things about you, and he’ll always appreciate your sublime, elevated sense of fashion

“I decided to wear my black tie, to match your dress of course.”

Kalim

Sun x Moon couple, proving once again that opposites do attract

He definitely just saw you one day, thought about you for a week straight and asked you out straight up

Kalim had a bravery other boys didn’t possess, this deeply intrigued you

You tend to make deadpan and dark jokes around him, and he’s never once understood any of them in the moment

He gets it in about 3-5 business days

You give him a sense of order and peace, with your calm demeanor and relaxed attitude, while he gives you excitement, a rush of serotonin you can't find anywhere else

Kalim will complement any new accessory he sees on you, a big smile adorning his face

You two often do your makeup together before events, he usually finishes up first, and watches you because he loves to see the process of your look

“I absolutely adore the clips in your hair, I should buy a pair so that we can match!”

Vil

Power couple

Literally the both of you are so beautiful, everyone on campus turns their head around whenever you walk by

Vil thrives off of attention and compliments, so your affectionate and caring nature is much appreciated

He definitely asks to do your makeup and styling, but backs out when he realizes how iconic your look is, and how he really can't add much to perfection

He will however, help you shop

Anything you want, just tell him, he’ll buy it, he’ll just never admit he’s absolutely whipped for you

The sheer radiance and powerful energy is so much within you two

The jokes and humor you engage in almost break his perfect poised persona, he’s usually not a sucker for comedy, but you bring out his inner comic

“Darling, your red lipstick looks absolutely divine.”

Idia

Was the only one here genuinely afraid of you at first

I mean, you sorta look like one of the villains from his favorite mangas, and he all but avoids you

You find yourself intrigued with the quiet boy, and manage to find his room

Idia is literally about to cry why is a woman in his room??? This has never happened before??? The matrix is crumbling???

You two have a very hushed discussion, and he learns to fear you less

As a boyfriend, he still acts very reserved around you, he fears he might come off as annoying

Just gently ease him into talking about himself and his interests a little more, and you’ll have him ranting about his newest fixation in no time

The fact that you encourage him in his pursuits is something he’s never had before

Idia is actually so amazed by your beauty, he literally pauses and stares at you sometimes

We all know how cool his more formal clothes are, so when he’s inevitably forced to leave his room, he knows he has you to keep him a little more calm

“Everyone here is looking at us, c-can we go home now?”

Malleus

The two of you are an absolutely regal couple, and he knows you are absolutely fit to be his queen

Malleus is attracted to you because of your vast intellect, your cunning nature and your refined taste

(and also because you genuinely enjoy his late night talks about gargoyles)

He makes sure to treat you with the utmost respect and dignity, reserved only for a woman of the court, guiding you gently with his extended hand, dancing with you to slow music, and of course helping you trim your thorns

Our dragon boy knows how to treat a lady, but he might have some trouble picking up on your deadpan humor, and he often just thinks your being serious

Your aesthetics match completely, allowing for the two of you to swap clothing and trade accessories

He knows what he wants in a partner, and you manage to fit completely

Malleus knows people often find him creepy or unnerving, and he knows it's the same for you, there’s a bond formed through your societal isolation

Malleus also makes sure you know he’s in love with you every day, through his kind words and his kinder actions

“Keep me in your thoughts dearest, so that I may become yours forever.”

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charles-eclair16 · 10 months

Text

~The 5 times Charles talked about you publicly~

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x actress!reader.

Warning- it's my first time ever writing so please be kind. English is not my first language so please ignore it if there are any mistakes.

1. The first time Charles was caught talking about you was pure accident and it wasn't even him who brought you up. It was an overly competitive Carlos who couldn't keep his mouth shut. It was during a C² challenge of who knows your teammate better and it was all going pretty much in Charles favour because the questions were too easy according to him. So when the score was 6 to 4 he was feeling pretty confident about winning but what he didn't expect was the next question to throw him off.

"Who's your current crush?" Was honestly not a difficult question to answer and Charles knew he would nail it. He totally knew who Carlos was crushing on.

"It's Y/N! He watches her interviews and giggles because she's so beautif-oww mate stop hitting me!“ Charles knew he had to make his teammate stop talking before he spilled anything more.

"Is it true?" Now this was a question Charles didn't know how to answer, should he own up that he was hopelessly crushing on her and that it was true that he watched all her interviews. But then again who could blame him she was so beautiful and he honestly loved the way she spoke, something about the way she spoke made Charles want to listen to her for hours.

"Yeah it's true. I really like her as an actress and she's very pretty but I don't giggle watching her!" He thought that was a decent answer.

"He does! He does it! He even watches fan edits of h-" Carlos was cut off by a wildly flinging hand of Charles.

" I do not!" was what Charles could come up with as he tried to stop Carlos. The next day he woke up with thousands of mentions of fans telling him that they understood...he didn't knew if he should feel embarrassed or laugh at some of the memes. He even liked a few of them.

2. The second time Charles mentioned you it was after you had soft launched each other for two months without the fans knowledge. It was nice to share secret moments with each other and bask in the privacy of home dates. It had been 7 months of dating and Charles was on the moon. His car was great, he was leading the championship with 10 points and he had a wonderful women supporting him. The only thing which bothered him was him not being able to shout his love and show you off to the world. So a mutual decision was taken between you two to not hide anymore but what you didn't expected was Charles to come running towards you as he got out of the car after coming p2 in the Silverstone Grand prix. You weren't even able to utter a word before he was kissing you. It wasn't a peck it was Charles expressing his love and gratitude for your unwavering support.

" How does winning feels now? Much sweeter than before?" Was the teasing question he got as he went to the post race interviews. He wasn't surprised. He knew he was going to get questions after a public kiss.

"Yeah, it feels great winning here with Carlos coming p1. It's a great weekend for our team" he laughed as he answered the question.

" So I'm sure you have plans to celebrate tonight. Any special plans?" He knew what the interviewer wanted to hear so he gave it to him with a smile so big he knew his dimples were all out.

" Yeah there's a plan to celebrate tonight definitely, the teams been throwing different ideas but honestly I would just prefer to spend my time with my girlfriend and have a quiet night. She came directly from her shooting so I'm sure she would want to stay in. And we can party with the team next time!"

It was safe to say that they both were trending worldwide.

3. At first Charles didn't know why he was trending and before he could check it he was asked to hurry up and get in the car. It was the worst race of the season for him. He was leading the race with pole position in France but he lost traction in his rear tyres and crashed into turn 11 which caused him the race. He was frustrated and tired. He just wanted to go back and not think about the horrible way he got out of the race. He wanted to cuddle you and forget about the day so when he was told to to attend a group media pen he was annoyed. When the question came he was speechless at first his brain shutting down from the ridiculous question.

" It's a very bad time for you Charles with the dnf and your recent breakup so how do you seperate these things from your work? Did your breakup caused you maybe to lose?" He wasn't aware of his break up.

"My what?!" Charles was shocked he didn't knew he was broken up because he was not planning to break up anywhere in the future.

"You didn't tell me you broke up?!" Perrie was genuinely confused now. If it was true wouldn't Kika tell him that? He knew the girls were close and he was sure that Charles would tell him that, wouldn't he?

"What did you do?" It was Lewis who glared at Charles and he finally got his wits to answer.

"No! We are very much together and happy! Who told you that we broke up?! Is that why I was trending Today?"

"Yes there was news that you broke up with your girlfriend and that you were heartbroken." The interviewer nervously let out a chuckle which caused the drivers to laugh

"Oh my god! No! We are together and I plan to be together for a long time so there's no need to worry about that ...I don't think I would survive without her pasta to be honest and her too." He reassured.

When he finally got the chance to check his notifications later in the night he could only laugh as he looked at the memes and the threats he got for fumbling a baddie like Y/N. He showed her some too as she layed on his chest on their bed.

4. The fourth time Charles gets asked is the first time he felt nervous talking about you ever in the entire 5 year relationship. It was because he knew he was absolute shit at lying. So when all the fellow drivers continue to tease Daniel for throwing the wedding party of the year. He remains quite and laughs at appropriate times.

" Charles you're quite there! So now that your friends are settling down with Daniel and Max getting married is it safe to assume that you're next?" Oh shit! He was sweating. He didn't know how to answer that without revealing that he had already picked a ring and was going to propose very soon. He had even taken her father's approval last month on their family trip together.

"Yes mate when are you getting married?"

"He's definitely getting married next!"

"With how whipped he is for her how do have any doubts about that!“ Charles tried to tune out the teasing remarks of his friends to formulate words to answer.

" Uh yeah, I would very much like to but we are focusing on the present at the moment but there's no doubt that I plan to marry her because honestly I can't imagine anyone else by my side when I think of my future. I want to start a family with her and get old with her. She completes me in the true sense and is my piller of strength. I don't think I have ever felt this much love for anyon-"

"And this is why we don't question Charles because then he doesn't stop!" Charles laughed at that as if Max was any better when talking about his wife.

"So yeah marriage is definitely on the cards on the future " he concluded.

And after 2 months he knew why he was trending and he couldn't be more happier. He now laughed at the mentions and yes he knew how to fight for his fiance.

5. The fifth time Charles was asked about you he was smiling ear to ear and anyone who looked at him can see that he was glowing.Others would say it was because he was starting the new season as a world champion but he knew it was because of Y/N and what she had told him the night before and later to their closed ones. So he felt quite happy answering questions.

"How are you feeling for the new season? Excited? Nervous?" the interviewer couldn't stop himself from smiling too. Charles happiness was contagious.

"It feels good to be back to the racing. The car feels good and after last year we are quite excited for this season too. We are looking forward to the races and with new tracks added to the calendar the excitement levels have increased. Yeah there's nervousness too-ah only little bit but that's totally normal...But I am quite confident! Also now I have to be a little careful because now that we are going to have new addition to the family I can't risk it! I have to-"

"New addition?" He stopped talking eyes widened and looked at the camera.

"What?" He was fucked, so fucked. She was going to kill him. He knew.

"You told new addition? Is it true? Are you going to be a father? Congratulations!" He could only nod and accept the hug he was receiving. They were supposed to announce it with a cute insta post and he had ruined it. He was the one to suggest it, he had even thought about the caption.

"Tell us more! Is she going to come to the races now? I'm sure everyone would like that?!" The interview continued

"Oh yes! Yes she wants to come to the races but I think we'll keep it a little private and only between family to enjoy this moment together. It's a new beginning with my person so I want to be there for her at every step. Its- it's definitely a blessing for us and I'm so grateful for her."

The next thing he knew he was trending along with y/n as parents and he couldn't ask for anything more.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #f1 instagram au #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #f1 #formula 1 #fic rec #charles leclerc x female reader #f1 imagine #pierre gasly #max verstappen f1 #cl16 fanfic #cl16 imagine #cl16 x reader

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vacayisland · 5 months

Note

I would love to see your take on Trollex or Synth I love them so much. Maybe relationship hcs with reader? Thank youu~

@!; Starfish Wishes Trollex / Reader Synth / Reader

"Summary"! Unstructured headcannons on how Trollex and Synth would be in a relationship with the reader! "Tags"! Fluff and the two being literal dorks I love them sm. I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR A REQUEST ABOUT THEM FOR AGES PLEASE ILY SM (/p)

@storydays @chamille-trash @valvalentine69

@!; Being the lover of the Techno tribe leader is an experience like no other. I'm being serious, Trollex is a big doofus at heart and he knows it, and while he's more tame in public when he's alone with you it all comes out. And while Trollex has the biggest heart you've ever seen, it's a blessing and a curse.

Standing at the bottom of the ocean was defiantly something new for you, and something you didn't exactly expect to experience - like ever. Nevertheless, you never thought you would experience standing under the ocean in the middle of a Techno rave. Trollex always gushed about them, speaking with such energy you were sure half the time he was going to explode. Yet, whenever he spoke with you about the raves there was always a common denominator that made him pause and cause him to stand still. You both knew that it was harder said than done, seeing as you were neither a Techno troll or that you could breath under water. And yet, after months of talking (and a lot of trust building as Trollex tried to find some way to make this happened) he finally did it! "You alright Starfish?" Trollex shouted over the blasting music towards you, taking off an earphone as he did so. You nearly missed his voice, despite standing right next to him as you still felt a little uneasy to join the rest of the Techno tribe on their dance floor. "Huh?" You shouted back, taking a moment to process what he said, "Yeah! It's just- it's weird!" A chuckled followed after your words, "Standing at the bottom of the ocean, listening to unmuffled music, dancing?" Trollex beamed towards you, dropping his headphones around his neck, "Yeah! You have to get used to it, but if you ever need a break let me now. I'll get Synth to take over for a moment so we can go to a quieter area."

@!; Honestly he has the biggest heart, loves you to death and will do anything to make sure you're happy and well. Furthermore, he will do anything to protect you. Other than his tribe, you're his number one priority and he won't ever let you forget that and will remind you constantly. Mostly shows his love through spontaneous actions! Such as grabbing your waist and hugging you tightly while twirling around, making a CD that is a mash-up of all your favorite songs (or your own songs), or just deciding that today was going to be you and him day. I feel like he shows a lot of his affection through physical contact and quality: hugs, cuddles, kisses, swimming together, listening to music, spinning disks, having you next to him during raves so he can steal kisses from you. Loves to also make you flustered. It's the cheekiness instead of him.

@!; Defiantly a family guy! Expect him to be home with you, and the children, when he isn't doing his leadership gigs. Also, expect there to be kids and at least 3-4 of them, and expect him to love and spoil them to death. Those are his babies and he will not let anyone harm them and he will make sure they're raised not only right but also with everything he could possibly give them. Though is defiantly the type to understand if you want fewer or more kids, or if you need time between each egg catching. he knows it's difficult to raise kids without him there all the time. And while he tries to be there all he can, running the Techno tribe is a lot of work and he can't always be there. But you'll be damned if he misses something important for his kids. Never, ever, will this man miss something for you or his kids. First dj session? There and he's their biggest fan. First steps? There. First glitter ball game? You know he's rocking their colors. Birthdays? His schedule his cleared on that day for decades. Somehow finds a balance between life and work to keep the tribe happy and safe while also being the best dad he can be.

@!; Big prankster and goofball. The type who, when he sees your sad, cheer you up either through cuddles or a well meaning prank. He loves you to death, and I will say this time and time again because it's true, and he doesn't want to see you upset or sad. It makes him sad! So he'll cheer you up with his second best medicine, laughter and smiles! The first is obviously raving.

"Hey starfish, can you come here?" Trollex called you from the kitchen of your shared home, causing you to lean your head back on the couch. You tried looking at him, or tried to get a hint of what he was doing. It was one of those days were all you felt like doing was nothing. You just wanted to lay on the couch and completely space you, looking at the wall for any sort of inspiration that would never come. It made your nose scrunch and your head hurt to think that your boyfriend could possibly think beckoning you from your current place of hibernation was a good idea. Though seconds later, after not seeing you budge, he called again, "I promise, it'll be good!" So reluctantly, you mustered the strength to push yourself off the couch and onto your feet. Despite how heavy your body felt, you pushed through it to enter the kitchen where Trollex stood all too suspiciously; His hands were behind his back and this big grin was spread across his face. You knew he was up to something but you couldn't guess what it was. "So.. I know that you're having a bad day." He started, trying to contain his excitement. "So I decided to get you a gift!"

Did the gift happen to be something you absolutely loved, and had been ranting to Trollex about anytime it had crossed your mind? Yes. But was it also a bitch to get out because Trollex used every box and paper bag and gift wrap you two had laying around to wrap it? Also yes. You were so sure that the gift wrap and the boxes and the bag would never end, but it got you laughing and smiling at how ridiculous the whole thing was. Trollex and you literally spent 15 minutes on the kitchen floor unwrapping it all, then another 5 minutes laughing your asses off about it.

@!; Overall, he's an amazing lover and I love him so much. He will give you up, he'll never let you down, he'll never run around and desert you. He'll never make you cry, he'll never say goodbye, he'll never tell a lie and hurt you. But he will rickroll you as a prank while playing around with his turntables, giving you your own private concert. And this man will absolutely cackle at your expression like the gremlin he is and apologize later.

@!; Being Synth’s lover is getting to know the Synth behind “Synth”; which is much more complex than the outward, rave-loving and happy-go-lucky person Synth is always described and known as. And sure, while you fell in love with that version of Synth, you couldn’t help but fall deeper for him the more you got to know him, and in turn he fell harder the more he realized you accepted him and the more he got to know you.

@!; You first met Synth at a rave, which you had been invited to by Poppy as an olive branch to get to know some Techno trolls. At first, you weren’t sure why she would invite you to such a loud event, knowing you were rather sensitive about noise and iffy about meeting new people, especially people from different tribes. Yet, you also knew it would be rather rude to decline the invitation. Not only because Poppy had asked you personally, but also because it was a party for another tribe and you weren’t sure how they reacted to declined invitations. You had feared they took it horribly, like if you declined it would mean you hated them or something along those lines. So, to not make anyone upset you decided to go.

And, as you had expected earlier, you kept close to the edges of the party and watched everyone else; Having even taken a seat upon the disco floor out of tiredness of standing for too long. Yet, you didn’t want to leave encase Poppy wanted to introduce you to someone, or if it would count as rude to leave before a rave had finished. So you stayed, despite the overwhelming feeling you got from being in such a crowded and loud environment. “Yo, Bro!” Someone shouted, and you had thought it was towards someone else. Seeing as you didn’t know who the voice was coming from and you were just sitting in a corner doing nothing interesting, you had little reason to think someone was calling to you. Yet the voice shouted, this time closer, “Yo! Hello!” and then you saw someone waving their hands in the background, which caught your attention rather quickly. It was a Techno troll you had seen before around Poppy, and a few other Trolls. While you never spoke to him personally, you knew a few things about him. Such as, his name was Synth and he was quite loud. At times, you were able to hear his voice from across Trollstopia, and it always caused a slight fright in you at the sudden noise. “Bro you okay?” Synth swam over to you, hanging upside down with glow sticks in hand and some hanging around his neck. You hadn’t known at the time how much this first interaction would change your life, how much Synth would affect you. All you knew is that you wanted to run and hide. You were glad you didn’t.

@!; Synth wasn’t the most emotionally aware troll there is, while you were exactly the opposite and were way too emotionally aware for your own well being. As such, you two were able to balance each other out. Synth helps you calm down from the stress and emotional pressure of carrying everyone’s troubles on your back and you help Synth by pointing out social cues and things he was overlooking in his fun-seeking ways. You both helped each other get more in touch with your friends and with each other. Synth usually helps you calm down, not by raving with a large group of Techno trolls (though he used to before you exploded to Poppy, not wanting to hurt Synth’s feelings and she told Synth) yet by having dance parties at your pod. Dance parties meaning it was only you and Synth with your feel-good songs and you two would either dance together or do something else like scrapbooking, cooking, baking, etc. Something he tries to sit down and help you through your emotions. At first he tried giving you suggestions, but they weren’t the best and he learnt to just let you get it all out. Something you didn’t even need him to listen to, you just needed him there.

@!; Cuddling with Synth means there’s always a nightlight nearby! Poor Synth is terrified of the dark, and it really troubled him to be in a room without any sort of lighting (which is how you figured out why he always carries glow sticks with him). At first, Synth tried to be strong for you and cuddle at night… but he didn’t even last 2 minutes before he yelled out in pure terror.

“What? What?!” You exclaimed, jumping up from your place in bed as Synth was just freaking out. You were just about to doze off when he had begun to do so, and you were sure he didn’t have a nightmare because he hadn’t even fallen asleep… or closed his eyes for that matter. You could see the purple glow of his eyes through your shut ones. Though Synth didn’t seem too keen on answering you straightly, as he just blubbered out, “What what? What who? What where? And sometimes-” “Synth.” But you cut him off, cupping his cheeks to make him look at you. To which he drew back a little, his eyes widening in shock for a split second before he became a ball of nerves. He laughed, nervous laughter. And you seemed to realize instantly what was happening with how frequently his eyes darted around the room, trying to look for something. You didn’t know he was afraid of the dark! “Synth you should have told me.” You would mumble before scrambling to turn on your bedside lamp, much to Synth’s relief.

From that day on you had a nightlight in your room for Synth.

@!; Synth gave you a rave name the first 3 hours he knew you and now that’s the only thing he decides to call you. You weren’t sure why he did so and when you asked Trollex or Laguna they just said that’s how he is. Trollex even shrugged. You’re stuck with it, so get used to it because he means that rave name with the up most endearment!! <3

@!; He’s a little hard in the head. Didn’t know you liked him until you told him out right and even then he didn’t understand and said he liked you too. You gave up and Trollex had to explain to him what you meant, to which he paused and shouted to you as you walked away, “I LOVE YOU!” To which Trollex stared at him with the most bewildered look and you got absolutely terrified.

@!; Has taken you water surfing and urchin acupuncturing if you’re cool with it! And if you need he’s here to hold your hand and help you through it. Has also shot water at you with his water powers. Was his hands in the shape of little guns? Yes. did he also say “pew pew” as well? Yes. Did you then also purchase a water gun to be able to do it back? Yup. And was Synth so shocked the first time he got pew-pew’ed with water back? Mhmm. But then did it dissolve into a huge water fight anytime you guys pew-pew’ed each other with water? Of course!

@!; Other than being scared of the water and being an avid raver, Synth sometimes struggles with self esteem issues; mostly, he fears that he’ll let people down and disappoint them. Which, when you first heard him explain, you were shocked to hear! You always thought Synth didn’t really care what other people thought of him, despite caring about people and their well being. You don’t know why you thought that way, but you just did.

“So that’s why I’ve been acting so off the past few days, yo.” Synth explained to you the whole fiasco about his cheerleading side-gig, which he did more for fun than anything else. Though Synth expected a slightly more emotional reaction out of you than other trolls, he didn’t expect to see you almost crying. “Yo, are you crying?!” “No! No, I’m fine!” Yet you only sniffled. “Bro… don’t cry because then I’ll cry!”

You and Synth connected on a deeper level that day, as you explained you also tended to feel that way around people. You both decided to make a pinkie-promise to be able to tell each other anything since that day. @!; I love Synth so much, 10/10 lover.

.ᐟ this work is published and owned by @vacayisland. please do not plagiarize, copy, or steal this work; like, reblogs, and saves are appreciated :D

#trolls band together #synth x reader #trollex x reader #synth trolls #king trollex #dreamworks trolls #trolls fandom #trolls #trolls 3 #trolls dreamworks #trolls world tour #techno trolls #trolls trollex #trollstopia #trolls 2

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spaghettiposts · 1 year

Text

Language Barriers

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Requested: No.

Genre: Fluff

Wanda Maximoff was one of the most affectionate humans on earth. Whether it was handholding to full-on cuddling she had to be touching you in some way.

When you asked her about it she merely passed it off as her nature but something told you otherwise. She wasn’t nearly as affectionate with your other teammates. The last time you’d seen her show affection was the time she gave Tony a handshake after fixing her suit. It was a very awkward handshake.

So naturally, you were a little confused as to why she showed you more affection than the others. Maybe it was because of how close you both had become over the years together but some part of you hoped it was due to something else.

Either way, it didn’t surprise you to wake up to the feeling of her hair on your face. A feeling you knew all too well. Gently, you moved her hair from your mouth as much as you enjoyed her warmth. She had hair like a lion.

It was another one of those days where you’d wake up to her tangled into your body. Honestly, it was confusing, to say the least. You didn’t know what your relationship was with the witch but it was starting to seem more than platonic which you wouldn’t be complaining about.

Unfortunately, insecurity is a bitch so there was no way you’d be asking anytime soon. Instead, you’d just enjoy her company. Which were her soft snores, you thought they were adorable, Wanda denied snoring but you knew otherwise.

Brushing her hair behind her ear you admired the girl laying in your arms. It was so calm and you only wished it could be this way forever. You adored how close you could be with her, you had never got the chance to appreciate all the tiny details on her face.

Her freckles, her beautiful long eyelashes, and her resting face. She didn’t need the makeup she applied, she was just as beautiful without it and much more.

“Your thoughts are too loud detka…” Wanda mumbled, snuggling closer to your body.

Your face turned a bright crimson at the insinuation.

But that word, that five-lettered word. What did it mean?

Trying to distract your head from the fact the young witch had heard your previous thoughts, you gently wrapped your arms around her waist. Wanda hummed in delight, nuzzling herself into your neck. As if that helped control the still apparent blush quickly rising once again.

“I can feel you smirking…” You grunted in response “It’s not funny if that’s what you’re thinking.” You said, continuing to scratch the brunette's scalp. She adored head scratches, she melted as badly as butter.

“I have no idea what you mean moya lyubov.” Wanda sighed, melting further into your embrace.

As much as you tried to focus on the girl of your dreams. Those words she had spoken to you had a hold on you. Moya lyubov? Detka? She had called you those names daily but never given you an explanation.

It was clearly Sokovian for something you just didn’t know what.

———————————————————

You flipped the book pages in front of you skimming through each section. It had been hours and so far no luck in finding the words you were looking for. You had picked up a grand selection of Sokovian language books from the local library. The only thing left was reading them which by Odison was that easier said than done.

Out of all of the books placed in front of you, you were still on the first one. Not surprising considering it’s in a different language. The first choice was clear, use google but no. Sokovian was a written language not something plastered on the internet. So it wasn’t much help.

As you flipped to the next page a familiar pair of arms wrapped around your shoulders, interrupting your focus. Your shoulders tensed tightly under her touch, it was an effect the witch had on you.

The girl sighed placing her chin on your shoulder, nuzzling her cheek on your own. Her actions made it difficult to concentrate on your goal.

“What are you reading?” Wanda asked, her eyes skimming over the letters.

You quickly shoved the books aside, trying to play it off as cool as you could.

“Nothing…” You cleared your throat, ignoring the suspicious look Wanda gave you.

Although she knew it was nothing because as soon as she caught glimpse of the other book she knew. She let out a soft gasp it was a Sokovian dictionary.

“What is this? Sokovian? Why are you trying to learn Sokovian-”

“Because of you wands!” You shouted, startling the witch. Her gaze dropped to the book again, as she moved away from you. You regret shouting as it caused your crush to move away from you. You already missed her warmth. “Sorry…I didn’t mean to shout I’m just…” Your gaze dropped back to the piles of books in front of you “frustrated.”

She sat on the edge of your bed, fiddling with her sleeves “Learning a new language is difficult” Wanda chuckled, it was a sad one that had you confused, did your shouting really upset her that much?

“It’s not the language.” You swiveled your chair facing the witch whose eye immediately met yours.

Wanda leaned closer tilting her head “Then what is it?”

Either it was the way she questioned you or from the close proximity you shared but she had you nervous. Your eyes watched as Wanda’s gaze drifted lower, maybe you had seen wrong. Or maybe you didn’t, you hoped you hadn’t. It seemed like such an obscure possibility that maybe, yes indeed, Wanda liked you too.

“It’s the girl I’m learning it for.”

An intimate confession revealed from your lips. Wanda couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face along with the heat quickly rising inside her. Her heart warmed at your words. You didn’t have to say the girl's name in order for her to know.

Wanda smiled brightly at you, a smile you had never seen before. Something so personal hidden behind it, like that smile was just for you and you only. You couldn’t take the risk of her giving it to anyone else.

So with the last bits of remaining sanity in you, you gently grasped her hands.

“Maybe I’m reading this wrong, I’m not very good at reading…” You motioned your head to the endless piles of books on your desk, prompting Wanda to let out a laugh.

“But if I am…” You sighed building up the courage to say the words you’ve been wanting to say “would you want-”

“Yes.” Wanda interrupted

You huffed “I didn’t even get to finish…”

“I don’t care, my answer has always been yes detka.” The brunette hushed, pulling you closer.

Once again your focus drifted to that one word. That one word that had started this all. What does it mean?

Wanda smirked knowingly in front of you, loosely wrapping her arms over your shoulders, playing with the hairs behind your neck. She leaned in closer, lips centimeters apart from each other. One single motion would change it all.

“Don’t worry about it.” Wanda husked, closing the gap between you two.

And just like that, the word was quickly forgotten once again.

———————————————————

Bonus:

“It’s a term of endearment…”

Wanda snorted at your dumbfounded expression, watching as you dropped the book from your hands. Your girlfriend found it amusing, you did not.

“Yes, what did you think it was?” Wanda scrunched her nose, if you weren’t so annoyed you would’ve kissed it.

“All this time” you started “and it’s been a term of endearment.” You glared at the books.

“To be fair, I tried to warn you.” Wanda shrugged.

“I’m burning these books.”

“Detka- No.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x you #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda x y/n

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catboybiologist · 22 days

Note

Okay i dont talk about HRT with people a lot and i started E when i was a teen so i actually didnt know estradiol injections were a thing until i saw your posts. I thought injections where a T thing and that we all got E through titty skittles.

I want to ask what the difference actually is because its piqued my interest. It sounds pretty annoying compared to a pill. Is it cheaper or more often covered?

also ps i know youre not my doctor but is 44pgml too low?

So first off, yes, 44pg/mL is way too low by any standard. The usual standard you'll see is 100-200pg/mL, but this is starting to be considered very, very low. More modern standards of care try for 200pg/mL at trough (the lowest you should be- on sublingual this doesn't vary much though). Generally 200-400 pg/mL is the more typical modern guidance. Your T is also very important here. It's very difficult to get your E high without your T going at least a bit down first.

With that said, self injecting E seems very intimidating at first, but has a lot of benefits, including but not limited to:

The main benefit is medical. Injecting E bypasses the liver. This means that you're stressing out the liver less.

This has an added benefit: you can safely get a much higher effective dose with little to no health concerns. Eg, Oral and sublingual generally have a limit of 8mg sublingual per day, and most of that gets completely destroyed by the body via the liver before it acts on estrogen receptors. Sublingual injections come in different forms, and the dose numbers aren't directly translatable, but no matter what you do, the effective amount of estrogen you're delivering is much, much higher.

Additionally, this means that your estrogen can safely get high enough to suppress T on its own. Once your T is down, and E stops being suppressed by T, the reverse will start happening- E will down regulate T production (up to a limit but that's an additional detail). That means something awesome- no blockers. No Spiro, no cypro, no bica- all of which have some concerns of their own beyond just E.

Yes, it is easier to access. Generic, sterile, injection supplies are easily available online in large quantities from reputable medical supply sources, and the injectable medication itself is generally cheaper and more likely covered by insurance.

This also means it's uh. Easier to access when access to HRT is... Non-conventional.

Whiiiiich also means another thing. Injectable medication is always limited by expiration time and the sterility of the vial, not the quantity it's packaged in. Which means that IF YOU KNOW WHAT YOURE DOING, you have flexibility in your dosage if you so choose. Eg, I have personally talked with my provider about how to do this safely, but I've recently tried dosages of estradiol valerate ranging from 6mg to 8mg a week. Again, remember that this isn't translatable to 8mg sublingual a day- 8mg EV injected a week is SO much higher than 8mg estradiol pills per day.

It seems intimidating, but honestly, I find a ~20 min routine on a Friday morning much easier to keep track of than taking multiple pills multiple times a day.

In general, it's considered the best HRT option, although most people ease into it with a period of time on sublingual first. If you can, get trained by a nurse to self inject the first couple of times.

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pedropascallme · 3 months

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I love your professor damien fics so so so much!!!!!! you are feeding the damien girlies and it is MUCH appreciated

a damien x reader shower fic (😏) would be amazing if you were interested? 🙏🙏🙏 but no rush or pressure to actually do it unless you want to lol 💜

The Shower Scene

Pairing: Damien Haas x f!Reader

Summary: "Some hours later, after flicking through channels of near-unwatchable cable TV and spending more time than you probably ever had with the cats, you figured you had the time to take a shower—a nice one, long and steamy and relaxing. Maybe you’d even light a candle."

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI) p in v sex, very mild dom/sub dynamics, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), praise, dirty talk, cum play kinda, if I missed anything please let me know!

AN: First time writing for Damien himself and honestly this was somehow more difficult to write than prof!Damien?? I kept writing dialogue and then being like he would NOT fucking say that. Anyway I hope this is to your liking!!

“Stay.” You wrapped your arms around Damien, words coated in sleep as you tried to trap him under the blanket you had cloaked over yourself.

“I want to.” He didn’t brush you off, letting you linger next to him, arms around his waist while he sat on the foot of the bed tying his shoes.

“Then you should.” You didn’t whine, didn’t even really put much thought into the tired pleads you emitted; this is just what you always did when he went to work in the morning. You knew he couldn’t stay, you understood that he had a job to do and that he would be back later—you weren’t stupid, you just wanted to keep him in bed with you, selfishly tuck him away and keep him all to yourself.

He stood up, leaning over you and offering you a kiss on the cheek, and you hummed, turning your face quickly to capture his lips in yours.

“Stay.” Now you were whining.

“I’ll be back so soon,” he cupped your cheek in his hand before giving you one more kiss, “Won’t even know I’m gone.”

“Liar,” you quipped, and he shot you a playful scowl. You smiled back at him. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he made a show of fixing the blanket that had exposed your feet while you were trying to coax him back into bed, “Go back to sleep.”

~~~

You woke up a few hours later, puttering around and trying to keep yourself busy; it was always the worst when he had work and you yourself had nothing to see to—no work to do, no plans to attend, just a day completely to yourself.

In theory, it sounded nice, but there were only so many ways to keep yourself occupied in a way that didn’t make you feel semi-useless. You couldn’t just resort to doom-scrolling or napping, it just made you feel guilty for doing nothing of substance.

Some hours later, after flicking through channels of near-unwatchable cable TV and spending more time than you probably ever had with the cats, you figured you had the time to take a shower—a nice one, long and steamy and relaxing. Maybe you’d even light a candle.

You gently coaxed Zelda off your lap, getting up to walk down the hall and to the bathroom, turning the water on. You stripped yourself of the pajamas you still wore from the previous night.

With the water now running at the right temperature, you let yourself acclimate to the feeling of it hitting your skin, letting the warmth soak your hair and trail down your spine until the droplets circled the drain.

When you heard Damien call your name, you jumped a little. You hadn’t heard him open the front door, too caught up in the heavy feeling of the steam that had begun to surround you and the ricocheting echo of the water hitting the bottom of the tub.

“Showering!” You called out, and you heard him shuffle down the hall to find you. He peeked behind the shower curtain.

“Oh my God, you’re naked!” He feigned shock at the sight, and you flicked at him, letting the water on your fingertips fly towards his face.

“You look like you’re about to murder me, Psycho-style.” You wrung water from your hair, watching him blink off the water drops that had landed on him.

“Baby, don’t say that —you’re a final girl if there ever was one.” He backed away from the shower curtain, leaving you to your own devices.

“You’re not coming in?” You called after him, and you heard the sound of his footsteps come to an abrupt halt.

“I’m invited?” He called back to you from down the hall.

“Come.” You confirmed, moving the shower curtain out of your way to watch him come rushing back into the bathroom. You’ve never seen anybody undress so quickly, and you made a mental note to remind him to pick up his socks from the hallway when you were both less distracted.

Not even the silken water from the shower could compete with the feeling of Damien’s skin on yours; the heat that radiated off of him got under your skin and engulfed you with comfort as he pulled you close the moment he stepped into the shower with you.

“I hate leaving you in the morning,” he ran a hand down your side, watching how the water beaded and dripped down your skin, “but I do love getting to come home to you.” You anchored yourself to him when he kissed you, hands gripping his arms as they wrapped around your body. It was almost embarrassing how needy you were for him after only a few hours apart, but you couldn’t think of anything but him now that he was back in front of you.

His tongue licked into your mouth, occasionally catching drops of water that fell over your faces when you broke away just long enough. You placed a hand gingerly on his chest, putting no pressure on it so he wouldn’t part from you, and trailing it down his body until you could wrap your fingers around the base of his cock. He groaned quietly into your mouth, and you felt yourself break out in small goosebumps, the warmth of the water combating your building excitement and pride.

Your strokes were slow; you felt him stiffen in your hand, paying attention to the tip of his cock, jerking your wrist in a circular motion. His hands found purchase on your ass, squeezing and kneading the plush skin and earning a moan from you—something about letting him touch you like this, the water bouncing off your back, steam circling your feet while you leisurely jerked him off made you feel so eager for him.

“Missed you so much today,” you breathed out, and he dipped his head down to suck marks onto your chest. His hands guided you against the wall, and the cold tiles sent a shiver down your spine, arching your back. You removed your hand from his length, placing your arms on his shoulders and weaving your fingers behind his neck.

“Mm,” he released you from his mouth momentarily, licking the deep purple spot he had made on your skin, “I missed you, too.”

“I couldn’t tell.” You goaded him, earning a quick smack to the side of your thigh as he took one of your nipples in his mouth.

“No?” He straightened himself back up, looming over you now, and you felt completely at a loss for words, too enamored of him to think of a reply. His hand came up to your mouth, and you opened, letting him dip in two of his fingers to the knuckle. He removed them slowly, letting you coat them with your spit, before he dropped his hand to your cunt and rubbed gently over your clit. You inhaled sharply, trying to keep your composure when he pushed both fingers inside of you. Damien breathed deeply, fingers rhythmically pushing in and out of you, and he savored the way you pulsed around him.

“Can you tell now?” He smiled with his top teeth, and you felt your pulse pick up when he pushed against the spongy spot inside of you with precision. You managed a quiet moan, and he continued to curl his fingers gently. “I figured.”

You gripped one of his shoulders, your other hand limply grasping his wrist. “Damien,” you whined when his thumb ghosted over your clit, “fuck me.”

“Is that what you want?” He was having entirely too much fun playing with you like this, your wet hair sticking to your skin, bottom lip trembling—you looked so beautiful, he couldn’t help the urge he felt to watch your face contort with pleasure from just the short thrusts of his fingers.

You nodded, and he stalled for a moment, scissoring his fingers inside of you just to watch you squirm, before pulling them out and licking them off. When his hand fell back at his side, he leaned forward. He had you crowded against the wall, and you kissed him fervently.

“You taste so fucking good,” he groaned, reaching to get hold of your leg and pull it over his waist. “Jump.” He grabbed your hips, letting you hook both legs around him. He nipped at your collar bone while you both adjusted to the position.

“Comfortable?” He touched his forehead to yours, breath fanning your face.

“Yeah,” you mewled, “please.”

“Please?”

“Please, fuck me,” you squeezed your thighs around him, “need you. Don’t tease.”

“Wasn’t teasing,” he played innocent, shifting his weight to fist his cock, smacking it against your clit, “Just wanted to clarify.” He pulled his hips back, lining himself up with you before slowly pushing into your waiting cunt. You whined at the familiar pressure you felt in your stomach and tried desperately to push your own hips forward onto him, to feel him in his entirety. Fully sheathed inside of you, his head tilted back, relishing in the feeling of how tightly you squeezed his cock. His hair was soaked, and you watched water fall over his face and chest as he pulled back and began driving into you.

“Oh my God, you feel so good,” he groaned after a long stroke, pushing you further against the wall.

“There—so good, Damien, fuck, you feel so good,” you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, planting lazy kisses against his lips, unable to pay close attention to anything other than the stretch of your pussy around him and the way the hair of his happy trail brushed against your clit with each roll of his hips. “Deeper,” you begged, needy for more, “Harder.”

“Fuck,” he maneuvered one hand under your ass, allowing the other hand the freedom to roam down your body to your clit. He ground his hips against yours. “Deep like this, baby?”

You whimpered, pulling at his wet hair, your other hand scratching sluggishly at his back. He could take a hint; pulling out until just the tip of his cock was nestled inside of you, he gave your clit a bit more attention, rubbing tight circles, before ramming himself back into you repeatedly, never breaking the synchronous tempo of his thrusts with the patterns he drew on your clit.

“Fuck, you’re doing so good—is this what you wanted? Needed it rough?” He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing hard against your skin while he satisfied the both of you.

You were certain you were screaming, but nothing more than raspy moans could find their way out of your mouth. Your head leaning against the wall, you arched your back into Damien’s thrusts.

“Please, please, please,” you couldn’t form any more words, trying to catch your breath to think of what exactly it was you were pleading for; “Wanna cum for you.”

“You wanna cum for me, baby?” He growled, voice low and clearly feeling the same buzz of adrenaline you were, “Gonna be a good girl and cum for me?”

You nodded frantically, mouth agape and eyes closed when you finally teetered and fell over the edge; you felt Damien twitch inside you, paired with a loud moan and harsh shove of his hips as he spilled into you. He gave a final few thrusts, watching the way you convulsed around him, both of you sighing in satisfaction when he pulled out. He helped you find your footing, hand falling over your lower back and letting you cling to him as your legs trembled. He turned off the water and, pulling back the shower curtain, removed a towel off its hanger, draping it over you.

“Did so good,” he kissed the top of your head while he patted you down with the soft fabric.

You looked up at him, eyes heavily lidded, the crown of your head fitting perfectly under his chin. “Felt so good.”

He tilted your chin up, giving you a soft kiss before he picked you up and carried you bridal style to your room.

“I’m all sticky…and drippy,” you muttered.

“Oh, have you not had the talk?” He laughed at his own joke, and you rolled your eyes, letting your head loll back against his arm where it was tucked under your neck. He dipped you down onto the mattress, and you were about to get back up, wipe the excess from between your legs and grab something to sleep in, when Damien’s hands wrapped around your ankles, pulling you down the bed towards him.

You giggled, playfully kicking your legs at him, careful to not actually let any of the movements connect to his body. He kneeled down, putting your legs over his shoulders.

“Damien…”

“What? You said you were sticky. I’m helping,” he licked a stripe over your core, not wanting to waste any time. “You taste so good; can you blame me?”

You didn’t bother giving him a verbal response, opting to bury your fist in his hair and bring him back towards your cunt. Even as spent and tired as you were, you would never deny the opportunity to see him between your legs, cleaning up the mess you’d made together.

“So impatient,” he chided, before giving in to your physical persuasion and burying his face against you; you jumped at the friction of his stubble on your inner thighs, but the drag of it against you only added to the bliss.

He worked his tongue into your hole, licking into you as best he could and delighting in the taste of you. He kissed over your clit before taking it between his lips, keeping it sealed in his mouth while his tongue drew shapes over it. You moaned, hips rising from the bed, and he wrapped his hands around your thighs to hold you still, closer to his face, pushing himself in further to savor the pleasure that was the taste of your cunt. His own cum leaked out of you and onto his tongue, and he licked the remnants off of your thighs, thorough in his bid to clean you off.

You looked down, making eye contact with him between your legs, and you saw him smile with his eyes. His tongue darted over your clit, mercilessly overstimulating you, not letting up for even a moment to catch his breath, and he knew you were cumming when he felt your legs tremble around his head, your fist yanking on his hair, chanting his name softly while you shivered. He moaned against your sensitive cunt, obsessed with the sounds you made for him and the tangy flavor of your wet on his tongue. He licked down your entrance, letting your slick collect on his tongue, drawing out your high for as long as he could. Selfish as it may be, he loved watching you unravel for him, and he continued to tease your entrance, letting your cum paint his lips.

He crawled up the bed, perching himself above you, and his hand rested against your lower jaw, prompting you to open your mouth. You obliged, and he spit, letting it fall to the back of your throat. You swallowed, humming at the taste—your own and his, something so perfectly curated. He kissed you, slow and gentle, and just as passionate as always.

“I must taste so fucking good,” you joked, hand draped over his neck.

He smiled down at you. “Oh, you have no idea.” He kissed you again, before rolling over on his side to sweep you into him. “I wish I could’ve just stayed home with you all day.”

“Me too,” you mumbled against his chest, feeling tired and perfectly sated.

He kissed your forehead, “I don’t have to go into work at all next week.”

“Does that mean you’ll stay in bed with me all morning?”

“I plan on it.”

You closed your eyes, letting the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed next to you act as a sort of lullaby. You think you whispered something about how he needed to pick his socks up from the floor of the hallway, but you weren’t sure, and you didn't really care; you were just happy to be home with him.

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