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joelsmochi · 1 year

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Joel Miller — There You Go

Part 2 here.

warnings: post-apocalypse, pre-ellie, age change + gap (joel is 53, reader is 33), smut (minors dni), unprotected piv sex + creampie, outdoor/public sex, reader has a thing for joel’s hands, joel has a thing for reader being a pillow princess, joel also has a thing for praising reader, joel loves spoiling reader what more can i say, definitely ooc joel, pet names (baby, pretty girl, doll, etc.), dirty talk, vanilla sex (? should this even count as a warning LMFAO), possessive!joel (only a little it's kinda cute), fluffy!joel, probably an over-usage of the word “pretty”, i always lazy proofread so there may be some typos <3

wc: 4k

a/n: there are so many mean!joel or rough!joel smuts (don’t get me wrong i be eating that shit up!) so i thought i’d do something a lil different & give y’all a sweet and endearing joel smut <3 this is lowkey inspired by the scene from jason’s lyric + inspired by a comment i saw where someone said pedro/joel would definitely talk you through it .-.

“The sun feels so good,” I think aloud. “Come lie down! You should try it!” I glance over at Joel who is cleaning the pot that we just ate dinner out of.

“You’re gonna get sunburnt,” is all he says. I don’t respond, enjoying the warm blanket the sun is providing. A few minutes later I hear him sit next to me which makes him block the sun from my face so I open my eyes and smile up at him.

He and I aren’t that close, but it never hurt to try and grow closer with him—sometimes he’d give in and laugh with me, but most of the time it was like talking to a brick wall that occasionally grunted at you or rolled its eyes. I understand though. I’m sure he lost someone he loved so deeply and that kind of shit changes you. I’ve lost more people than I can count and no matter how much you try to prepare for it, you’re just never ready. That’s why I always try to get him to smile, I want him to know that someone still cares about him even if he doesn’t care for anyone anymore.

But I know he does. I know for a fact that he cares about me. He never let’s me hold him when we’re trying to sleep but the second I hear his breaths deepen I always wrap my arms around him and he shuffles his back deeper into my body. I loved the way he was too emotionally calloused to warm up to me because it makes me want to fight harder for him which reinforces the fact that I care about him.

“Thank you for dinner, you sure know how to whip up some twenty-year-old ravioli,” I joke.

He just nods and looks at the trees in front of us.

“How old were you when this all started? Thirty-two?”

“Thirty-three,” he corrects.

“Hmm, same age I am now.”

“Ain’t that a bitch?” He huffs, clearly exhausted from our hike. I sit up in front of him and grab his hands; he tries to pull back while giving me a dirty look so I just grip him harder. “What are ya doing?” He asks.

“Holding your hands,” I say with a cheeky tone and a grin.

“Why?”

“Because I think about touching ‘em all the time,” I tease.

He takes a few breaths, watching to see if I break my smile. “You think… About my hands?”

“Mm-hmm,” I hum, “I think about your fingers.” I hold one of his hands up to my face and analyze his digits, memorizing the cuts and bruises and wrinkles along them. Even though my words are true, I still played as if I were joking endearingly, but the more I looked at his fingers the more complicated it got. I feel my nipples perk up underneath my tank top from the cool breeze and… Well, from being horny. “I think you’re a cool guy,” I say after looking at him and dropping his hand.

“Why?”

Shrugging, I say, “Because you take care of me. You teach me a lot.”

His eyebrows rise and force wrinkles onto his forehead. “I teach you a lot?”

I hum again, nodding slowly and blinking even slower not able to hide my true intentions anymore. “Yeah, you… Taught me how to use a gun safely… You taught me how to get past an infected… You taught me how to hunt a buck.”

“Shit your parents shoulda taught ya when your were a kid,” he retorts, letting me know he doesn’t see my desperation.

“Maybe,” I whisper. I carefully move onto my hands and knees, slowly crawling closer to him. “Maybe I was just meant to have you as my teacher.” The look in his cold eyes shifted yet he continues to leave me confused. I may be overstepping here, but his lack of resistance only urges me to push further and further. I bat my eyelashes at him and reach my nose just in front of his. “You could even teach me how to fuck.”

His eyes bat shut and he exhales as if he were committing the worst of sins. His eyes reopen after a few quiet seconds and they flicked between both of my own eyes. His cold irises were now warm with dilated pupils and his pulse is beating so strong I could see it pump against the skin along his collarbones. I glance at his lips more than once and press one of my hands to his thigh.

“Is this okay?” It comes out shakier than I intended it to as my breathing feels much heavier than before. Joel makes me feel so small but in the best way possible. It’s as if he were my sworn protector and I could always count on him to be there for me. Like a lovestruck twenty-year-old, I cling to him in my most desperate of times even though he pretends to hate it. I could tell he likes having someone to take care of, and I love that he takes care of me.

Hesitating, he nods and carefully reaches for my forearms.

“You sure?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he whispers sounding more desperate than me.

I can’t help but simper at both his confirmation and touch, finally touching my nose to his. A knot twists deeply into my stomach, and my chest fills with waves of nervousness. “I’ve only done it a couple times,” I whisper.

“That’s okay,” he hums against my lips, his chest rumbling at the low vibrations from his voice. “I’ll teach you.”

I snicker and giggle at his words earning the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen on him in the time I’ve known him, then he presses his lips to mine so softly I thought I was imagining it. The smack of his warm mouth dazes me momentarily and I grasp onto his shoulders before completely falling into his touch. He lies back onto the blanket and encapsulates my body with his thick legs and firm arms. He whines into my mouth and holds onto my waist as if I would fall apart if he let go.

I pull away after a while to look down at him, wondering how we should start. It’s been well over a decade since my last time and I don’t want to disappoint Joel.

“Lie down,” he instructs while admiring my flustered look.

I do as he says and allow him to take my shoes off, which he does so carefully. I always pegged Joel to be a bit rougher, and eager for it, especially after a long time of waiting.

His fingertips nuzzle the hairs along my calves and thighs up until they reach the hems of my shorts and this is where my expectations become true; he wraps his fingers into the folds and tugs gently, probably trying to pace himself, but the rise and fall of my chest catch his attention and his patience runs out. He yanks my button undone and doesn’t even bother taking my shorts off, he just slips his hand inside to feel around. I prop myself up with my elbows to get a better view of everything. He strokes the stubble along my pelvis, then around my clit, dipping down to my entrance and slightly parting my lips to see how ready I am.

I inhale at the feeling of his warm finger coming into contact with my cool precum, locking eyes with him to watch the subtleties in his face change at every new feeling he notices. He just barely whispers, “Fuck,” when he rises his finger to my clit. He gives it a gentle stroke and watches me breathe slowly for him. “You’re doing so good, staying still like that for me,” he praises. I bite my lip and confidently smile at him. He starts to rub soft circles onto my skin, eliciting a gentle coo from me. The space between my eyebrows tightens at the relief and my eyes close softly. “Fuck, look at’ya… So eager for me already, huh?” I look at him and nod. “Tell me how bad you want it, doll.”

“Do you remember the night we first met?” I ask between moans. “And I had that cut on my arm that you had to clean and wrap? All I could do was stare at your fingers and—and imagine how good they would feel rubbing my clit the way you’re doing right now. It was the first night I had touched myself in almost a year.”

He squints at me sharing this information and rewarding me with more pressure from his fingers. “And how often do you touch yourself now?”

“In the past two years I’ve known you?” I sheepishly ask; he nods and halts his moving fingers. Desperately wanting him to keep going, I shout, “Almost anytime I get left alone for longer than ten minutes.”

“Since we’re being honest…” He leans down to my ears to whisper, “…Sometimes I leave you alone to touch myself as well.” He takes his hand out of my shorts to slide them off of me.

He looks around the trees, and I do the same to make sure no one living or infected is around; once we’re sure it’s clear he sits to remove his boots which I laugh when it starts to take a long time. I reach for his shirt buttons, undoing them carefully as a few were hanging literally by a thread. I push his flannel shirt off of his arms while he finally kicks his boots off, then he hovers his head over mine and just barely pushes his pants down to reveal his swollen cock. I reach for it despite my intimidation at the girth but he stops me, guiding me to lie down again.

“Joel?”

“Yes, baby?” He asks against the skin above my collarbone whilst placing lovely kisses all over my neck.

“It’s really big,” I say tensely, laughing at myself.

He gives me a juicy kiss and shares a winsome look with me. “I’ll be gentle if you want,” he promises. I barely smile, not realizing how harshly my nails are digging into his arm. I give him a slight nod and spread my legs slowly for him. “I promise I’ll be real nice to your pretty pussy.”

I lift my head up to kiss him again and he shifts to rest his body weight on top of me with his hand reaching between our bodies to line his tip up with my entrance. His tongue folds over my lips and into my mouth restlessly and I feel his hips push forward against me. I prepare myself for the discomfort, squeezing my eyes tightly and pulling away from the kiss to brace myself.

It’s difficult to breathe with my ribcage pushing against him and I feel him leave a trail of kisses along my jawline in an attempt to soothe me. I constantly squeeze around his thick cock, trying to ignore the slight burning and get used to the pain faster. He notices how long I remain tense and anxious, so he taps my cheek gently with his fingers and I open my eyes to look at him which relaxes almost every nerve in my body.

“Just relax, honey, okay? Can you do that for me?” My eyes roll to the back of my head as his raspy voice continues to beg me to relax. “Hmm? Can you relax for me, baby girl?” He pulls back a little and begins to slowly pump himself in and out of me, chuckling as he watches my body actively relaxing around and beneath him. “There you go… There you go… Here.” He adjusts his knees to be flush against the back of my thighs and moves my arms and legs to wrap around his back. “How’s this?”

I wait for him to start moving again, noticing the difference in closeness. “Yes!” I hiss. I feel his hand pop my boobs out of the top of my tank top and I look to his fingers to watch them rub against the sewn-in rose in the middle of the shirt, but soon enough his hand cups my boob and gives it a delicate squeeze. I notice my pussy get wetter at the steady pace he is going at, feeling the curve of his cock hit the deeper parts of me.

“That feel good, baby?”

“Yes, Joel,” I moan. I slide the straps of my shirt off of my arms to get a better grip on him making him smile at the now bunched-up fabric around my waist. All I can do is moan and roll my eyes back and forth at his cock filling me up repeatedly. With my thighs trembling around his hips, my nails digging into his back, and my back arching deeper into the ground, he lifts his upper half off of me more than likely to see me—all of me.

He drives his hips faster, not fully entering inside of me but using the curve of his shaft to his advantage. As my hands flail around either gripping the sheet or his arms, I accidentally dig my knees into his stomach, and I can tell it’s hurting him but he doesn’t stop.

“Come on, baby,” he grunts, somehow managing to go even faster, “cum for me, pretty girl, I can feel it—oh, look at’cha!”

I whine at the ticklish feeling of his tip rubbing against my g-spot, feeling sudden shocks in my nerves from my stomach to my feet. I feel my muscles stop squeezing around him and start pushing against him as my orgasm creeps up. Joel hunches over to pop one of my nipples into his mouth adding waves of electricity to swim through the rest of my body.

“Joel, I—“

“Shh, shh shh shh,” he mumbles against my breast. “Look at me, darlin’. Hold onto me.” My fingers wrap into his curls and I watch his eyes trail over my face. I feel myself fall over the edge and into my orgasm, and his words seem to only exist to intensify this burst of energy. “God, look at you cumming for me—oh, my God, I can feel it," he repeats. "I can feel you cumming, it feels so fucking good."

“Yeah?” I whimper. “Fuck, please don’t stop!” He grunts and gets a bit more sloppy with his thrusts which help ride out the rest of my orgasm. I release his hair and drop my legs down next to his, feeling soreness spreading throughout my thighs from them being stretched. “Do you want to switch?” I ask after seeing how tired he is.

He pretty much pouts and shakes his head, cupping my face in one of his hands. “No, baby. I wanna take care of you,” he says. “You look so pretty in the sun.”

I blush to thank him, then take his scruffy face into my hands and give him a few kisses until they turn into our tongues dancing together. I moan at the taste of his skin, pushing my hips down to get his shaft deeper inside of me.

He listens to my body and instead of thrusting he rocks his hips after resting some of his weight on me again. I feel the layers of sweat from both of us stick his skin to mine but we just ignore it. All I care to focus on are his groans and the way his cock fits so perfectly inside of me.

“I was made just for you,” I moan, reaching out to run my hands along the hair on his chest.

He shoves one of my legs up on his shoulder, bending forward to somehow fuck me even deeper. “You were made just for me?” He asks, kissing the inside of my knee.

I mewl out, cursing at how smoothly his hips continue to roll in between my thighs. “Yes, Joel!” I shout when he shoves his dick all the way inside of me, stopping once he presses against my depths. “My pussy was made just for you!”

I watch his pretty eyes roll under his twitching eyelids, and he whimpers. He actually fucking whimpers. I gasp at his shaft throbbing inside of me and cradle the back of his head.

He lifts himself to his knees again, forces my legs to spread apart, and pulls out. “Fuck, baby,” he groans with furrowed eyebrows. “You keep talking like that you’re gonna make me cum too fast.”

Grinning wide, I sit up and turn around to my hands and knees like earlier. I figured a change in position could help excite things a bit more, plus my ass is starting to hurt. I moan and giggle while I tauntingly wave my ass for him to grab. Instead, he yanks my knees back knocking me down to my stomach which admittedly hurt a little bit, but I didn’t care. I finally got to have Joel and that was all I needed.

He pushes my legs apart with his chest pressing against my back. I shudder at his warm breath on my sweat-covered cheek and ear, flinching when he nibbles on my lobe—not from pain, but surprise. He moves down to bite my shoulder, then my spine before I feel his hand push his thick cock back inside of me.

I kick my limp legs up to meet his wide thighs and lay my face against the ground. He fucks me like he’s desperate for me to know how strong he is, how weak he can get me. I arch my neck up for my lips to meet his chin; listening to his little whimpers has my entire body weak for him. I didn’t want the noises to stop, I don’t want him to stop.

“Oh, baby,” he whimpers some more, “you feel so good. S-oh good.” His breath is shaky as are his words.

“I want you to cum inside of me, Joel,” I beg before pecking his chin. I relax the arch in my neck to instead bury the back of my head into his shoulder. He stops for a few seconds to absorb my words, using this time to wrap his arms below and around my stomach. “I love the way you fuck me,” I whisper against his jaw. “You make me feel so good, baby.”

“That’s my job, honey,” he tells me, thrusting a couple of times. “Oh sh—oh my God,” he mewls. He bites my cheek which makes me giggle and turn my head to kiss him. He starts to drill in and out of me while our lips fold over each other, our moans and begs and whimpers falling out occasionally. I feel that bubble growing inside of me again just itching to be popped, and I completely crumble when he says, “You take my cock so good, princess, I know you got another one in ya.”

I can’t even speak whilst he wraps his strong hand around my neck to hold my head up rather than to choke me. I cry out his name shallowly and squeeze around him so tight I’m sure his cock started to ache. He curses into my neck, not letting up on my pussy one bit. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love it.

“You look so fucking pretty when I fuck you. Look at how helpless you are, fuck. You’re mine, pretty girl.”

“I love the way you fuck me, Joel,” I say breathlessly as my orgasm doesn’t let up.

“My sweet girl,” he coos in my ear. “Keep talking to me, mmm, I love hearing you beg for it.”

By this point, I am suffering from the pain of overstimulation, which I never thought could hurt so bad but feel so damn good at the same time. “You’re so good to me, Joel,” I tell him doubtlessly. “I want you to cum for me, please.” His body jerks a few times and it instills confidence in my tone. “I want you to use me… Use me to cum, please…”

“You want me to cum in that pretty pussy a’yours? Hmm?” He cuddles his face into my shoulder blade, striving to reach even deeper inside of me. “Turn around. I wanna see you,” he whispers; I turn around and he lifts me onto his lap, still standing on his knees. His burly forearms manage to hold me up enough for him to keep doing all of the work, but by this point, I was thankful for it with how much he’s worn me out. “You take my cock s’good. Look at your pretty face, your pretty little helpless face.”

I watch as he takes his lip between his teeth into his weeping mouth, breathless gasps leaving my own. He looks so majestic with how the sun casts subtle shadows along his face; his vulnerability coats the look in his eyes as his face begins to relax which tells ms he is close. His nails dig into my spine and he looks to me for reassurance.

I run my fingertips over Joel’s broad shoulders and blink slowly, drawing my tongue out to lick his lips briefly. “Can you cum for me, baby?” I ask softly.

“Yes,” he says, heavily nodding his head. “Anything for you, honey.” He kisses me swiftly, smiling at me and stroking my thumb over his cheekbone. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

We both moan out little praises against each other's faces and lips and sometimes kiss roughly. My chin burns from his stubble but I don’t pull away from him. I don’t want to. I just want to feel all of him.

He tells me he’s going to cum once more and I say, “Look at me, baby. Look at me when you cum.”

I hold his head still in my hands and rock my hips against his, but he stops me by pushing my hips into him and holding me there. I whine but allow it, cockily grinning at him when I feel his warm cum paint my walls. He is a whimpering mess, cowering his face to my chest. His body twitches underneath my legs and his hands fall to my ass, squeezing it enough to lift my hips up and back down a couple of times. Grunting when he finishes, he peels his face from my skin to smile down at me after lying me down carefully. He looks around for a moment before pulling out and laying next to me.

“Sorry, I got a little carried away,” he says, still out of breath.

I look over at him and twist to my side. “It’s okay. I know you like taking care of me.”

“Do I now?”

I nod and hum. “You’ll never say it, but I know you do.”

Joel also turns onto his side to stare at me. “I like taking care of you,” he admits with a hoarse voice. He reaches to pull my shirt straps back over my arms before covering my boobs, then grabs my panties to slide them up my legs but stops when he gets to my vulva just to place a kiss on it. He half-dresses himself before pulling my warm legs onto his lap; I sit up to get more comfortable and stare at his hands massaging my legs. “Your face is sunburnt,” he tells me.

I touch my cheekbone and flinch when I feel it is indeed sunburnt. “Dammit.”

“Doll, I want ya to know that this doesn’t mean nothing to me. It isn’t nothing, I mean… It’s something… If you want it to be.”

“Something?” I question with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah…” He shrugs, looking back down at my legs. “If you want.”

I crawl into his lap, responding to him with a loving kiss. “I want you. Not something.”

“Oh, pretty girl…” He moves some hair from my face and bashfully smiles at me. “You already got me.”

#joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #tlou smut

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sofs16 · 6 months

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us first

thank you for this request:)))

++ added hate to reader because ………..

(after writing this i realized it’s kinda angsty oops im sorry lmk if u want me to redo this 😓)

with busy days apart and the media digging into you, sometimes there were more downs than ups in a week. charles had been off racing and being a singer, it isn’t easy to always attend.

there was a particular struggle for a while at the passionate tifosi who worshipped charles. of course you understood them, but it got to a point your faith in whether you were good enough for charles was wavering.

charles was amazing on and off camera and track. he made sure to take the relationship at a pace well for both of you. he always defended you against such comments even when he wasn’t asked to, often his pr team even scolded him for being too aggressive.

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari, and 6,799,696 others

yn nd that’s the end of our life support tour 🥹🫀🌠 thank you for being lovely, monaco!

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sharl55 🤮🤮🤮 Horrible wag. You never show up at races and are never there for Charles. He deserves better.

⤷ charles_leclerc Please stop commenting horrible things about Yn. She does support me and likewise, I support her music. I don’t deserve her.

⤷ yn i love you charlie 😭

it’s nights like these where you and charles get to see each other not through face time. your schedules aligned finally when you got to spend nights under the same comforter.

with the monaco gp this week, and the tour ending today, these were nights where you and charles stayed in.

you bought face masks and food on your way home while charles bought some wine and ingredients for baking and cooking.

you set your keys down on the table when you made it into yours and charles’ shared apartment.

“baby?” you heard from the kitchen “hey charlie” you slipped behind him and kissed his neck as he smiled, shaking his head. “you’re late” he scolded lightly.

“i know, i know! but- i was deciding if we were goijg for strawberry or cucumber face masks” you held the bag up. “you got both, didn’t you” he raised a brow “..yeah” you laughed and made a beeline to the bedroom “‘m gonna change and we can start!” “take your time!” he replied

you giggled, changing into charles’ pajamas since they were always so comfortable. you ran to the kitchen and helped charles in making the ravioli you both wanted

“that comment was so infuriating like- did you see that? the one under your post today?” he asked, stirring the pasta in the pot while you hopped on the counter top, something he always scolded you for.

“yeah… it’s okay. you didn’t have to reply but i appreciate it” you looked at your slippers as you swung them around. he sighed and walked over to you, holding your chin lightly.

“do not listen to them, okay mon amour?” he looks into your eyes “mhm” you smile, getting lost in them.

“besides…” he walks back to the pasta “they are not the ones who get to taste my amazing pasta” he holds it up proudly and you laugh, shaking your head as he puts it in your plates.

you go to the bedroom and move the blankets over to the living room as you light the candles and turn the television on. charles sets the plates on the table and you sit on the couch, waiting for him already holding your plate.

he comes back with two glasses of wine and you put on harry potter on the tv but it’s playing at a volume less than 10.

you both face each other and laugh, talking about random things going on. he talks about his nerves for the gp, especially that it’s his hometown, but he’s glad you’re coming because you haven’t been able to go to the last 4 races. charles brought ninetnedos and you both raced each other at some point.

you both eventually fall asleep on top of one another on the couch.

charles.jpg

liked by pierregasly, and 73 others

charles.jpg i love my girlfriend

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carlossainz55 sending this to yn

⤷ charles.jpg No! This is so I can obsess over her quietly.

liked by charles_leclerc, and 11,191,201 others

yn a weekend well spent with myyyy loveeee 💌

view all 2,696,606 comments

charles_leclerc That last video was not necessary😊

charles_leclerc

liked by yn, and 10,579,708 others

charles_leclerc Ma belle! My talented and beautiful girlfriend 😘

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charles_leclerc Send her hate and I will send you 10000 photos of her and you will love her and you will stop.

yn my scrumptious, handsome, cutesey, fatherly, talented, fast, racer, amazing, cool, chill bf who helped me fulfill my grumpy x sunshine trope dream. loveu

⤷ charles_leclerc So much to unravel but I am NOT grumpy. ⤷ landonorris yes you are

ynchar YN AT THE PADDOCK. WE WON!

liked by charles_leclerc, and 20,282,585 others yn bet that person who called me a bad wag has never attended a gp like me 😉

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charles_leclerc You should talk like this more.

⤷ yn anyone comes for my man I WILL FIGHT. I CAN FIGHT.

stcharles I love how Charles comments in every post of yn 🥹 ynsbabe petty yn is so iconic😭😭😭😭

0ferrari0_ love my queen

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagines #formula 1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x you #social media au #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc 16 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc one shot

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youwouldntdownloadapizza · 3 months

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The Gates of Jackson | Joel Miller x F!Reader - Chapter 3

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You showed up at the gates of Jackson with hands covered in blood and no memory of how you got there. That was two years ago. Since then, you've become Maria's right-hand woman and the person in charge of Jackson's logistical backend. Patrol schedules, inventory—all your purview. When a patrol gone wrong forces you to get to know Joel, memories of your past begin resurfacing—along with their consequences.

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pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+, minors DNI

word count: 1.1k

tags: no use of y/n, eventual smut, no beta we die like sarah, jackson era, other additional tags to be added, slow burn, ellie needs a hug, joel lives, good parent joel, reader-insert, reader insert, forced proximity, only one bed trope, nightmares, childbirth, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, soft joel, cuddling & snuggling, fluff, masturbation, pining, joel falls first, possibly demisexual reader (tbd), ptsd, ptsd flashbacks, panic attacks, amnesia

chapter warnings: canon-typical violence, violence towards children, nightmares

Chapter 3

By the time you descended the ladder, Joel had everything set up. A clean, if dusty and threadbare, blanket was spread before the fireplace. He’d managed to get the fire going, and while it hadn’t reached a roar, it was plenty hot enough to heat some cans for dinner.

“What are you in the mood for?” Joel asked, gesturing between two cans with a pilfered can opener. “I’ve got alphabet soup or beefy ravioli.”

“Ravioli, please,” you said decisively, taking a seat beside him on the blanket. It took a second of him staring at you expectantly for you to realize he was holding out your selection. You took it and dug in.

“Holy shit,” you nearly moaned, the zing of 20-year-old marinara a delight to tired taste buds.

“That good, huh?” Joel asked.

You nodded–yeah, it was really that good.

“Maybe Ellie’s onto something,” he chuckled, digging into his own dinner. You cocked an eyebrow. He elaborated, “She’s big on Chef Boyardee, too. Who knew he’d have so many fans in the apocalypse?”

“I don’t know,” you joked. “Fungal pandemics come and go, but pasta is forever.”

He laughed mid-chew, snorting so effusively a J-shaped piece of pasta landed at your feet.

“Huh,” you said. “J for Joel.”

You ate the rest of your food in relative silence, the levity of the first few bites subsiding once you realized how hungry you truly were.

A few minutes later, you set your empty can on the hearth with a clatter. “I’m gonna turn in.”

Joel nodded. “I’ll take first watch. Good night, Doe.”

“Night, Joel.”

Upon further inspection, the puke-covered couch appeared to convert into a mostly unscathed bed. It felt almost wrong to tuck yourself beneath such cozy bedding in your filthy patrol clothes. Especially since you had to be ready to spring into action at any moment, which meant your shoes stayed on too. But it’s not like there were other options. You lay your head atop the impossibly fluffy pillow, and let your eyes fall shut. Before you knew it, you were asleep.

* * *

You only ever saw Steffy in your dreams anymore. Your baby sister had been there for the collapse of the Salt Lake City QZ, escaping alongside you. But somewhere between fleeing and finding yourself at the gates of Jackson, you’d lost her. You’re not sure what happened exactly, but the dread in the pit of your stomach left no room for wondering: Steffy was dead.

She was alive right now, though. You were little again, sitting on the terracotta tiles of your Aunt Suzie’s back porch. It was summer, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the magnolia tree above you.

While the adults grilled, you and Steffy had a tea party. All the best dolls were invited, teddy bears too. Even Steffy’s favorite, a bedraggled rat plushie named Ratty.

“Ratty wants Earl Grey,” Steffy said, holding out a tiny teacup and saucer.

“Why, of course,” you replied in a bad British accent, pretending to pour him a cup.

Steffy made Ratty drink the whole cup in one gulp. “Dee-licious.”

You giggled. She giggled. It was contagious, the two of you devolving into downright guffaws when you noticed the adults’ chatter had stopped. Looking over your sister’s shoulder, your face fell.

“What’s wrong?” Steffy asked with a tilt of her head.

You wanted to tell her to run. You wanted to tell her to get behind you, that something was wrong. But you were frozen.

That’s when the clicker sunk its teeth into her neck.

You woke with a start, flailing wildly, arm connecting with something hard, something that let out an ‘oof’ in response. Joel. You had hit Joel. Based on the proximity, you guessed he was trying to wake you.

“Sorry,” you panted, heart still racing from your dream. “Time for my watch?”

“No,” you could barely make out the shake of his head against what was left of the dying firelight. “It’s only been a couple hours. You were flailin’ about, looked like you were having a nightmare.”

“Oh,” you said. “Thank you. I’m fine now.”

“If you’re sure,” he said. “I’m here, y’know. If you want to… talk about it, or anything.”

You were still shaky. Your heart was still going so fast. But you weren’t about to discuss your dead sister with Joel Miller.

“I’m fine.” You doubled down, softer than you meant to.

“Okay,” he backed off, returning to his spot leaned up against the fireplace, eyes on the door.

Minutes passed, and your heart was still racing. Your hand throbbed, and you wondered how hard you’d hit Joel. Hopefully not hard enough to leave a mark.

“I’m sorry I hit you,” you said softly through the darkness.

“It’s fine, Doe. You were dreaming.”

You hated the way he brushed away your concerns, the way he gave you grace. In your experience, people rarely let others off the hook, not really. There was always some resentment that lingered.

If you were going to owe him, you might as well really owe him.

“Joel?” you asked.

“Hm?”

“I can’t sleep,” you confessed.

“I don’t know what you expect me to do about that.”

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself to ask for what you wanted. “Will you cuddle with me? It’s not you, it’s just…I need another person. We’re safe here, we don’t need a watch, not really. And I need you.”

“Thought you said it wasn’t personal.”

“It’s not,” you bristled. “But I thought it would be nice.”

“Never said it wouldn’t be, sweetheart.”

You lay there expectantly for what felt like ages. Then, finally, you heard the squeak of old floorboards under his boots, and felt the squish of the mattress as he climbed onto it beside you. You found a position easily, one arm beneath your head, his other loosely draped across your waist.

Your heart slowed marginally, but your breathing remained fast and light.

“Relax, sweetheart. You gotta breathe.”

“I can’t–” you started. He cut you off with a hand to your stomach.

“You can.” He pulled you back against him gently, not so tight you were crushed, but just enough for you to feel the expanding and contracting of his own breath against your back. “Breathe with me, alright?”

You nodded with a shuddering breath. He tapped your stomach lightly with his thumb. You matched his inhale, breathing deeply and resenting the fact that this shit works every goddamn time. Within a few minutes, you were calm. Or as calm as you were going to get, anyway.

“I get them too, you know,” Joel admitted.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You were still pulled close against him, neither of you having made a move to scramble apart once your breathing returned to normal. At his admission, you relaxed into him fully, taking his free hand in yours.

Before you knew it, you were asleep once more, dreamless and deep, held safe and secure in the warmth of Joel’s embrace.

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller series #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou #joel x reader #joel x you #no use of y/n #joel miller x f!reader #jackson era #joel lives #ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction

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themculibrary · 2 months

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Tony Takes Care Of Sick Peter Masterlist

Am I A Dying Man? (ao3) - Odd_I G, 5k

Summary: Peter Parker didn’t get sick, not any more. He hadn’t been really sick since before the bite, and that was what? Three years ago?

He was pretty sure it had something to do with his super healing, but he wasn’t completely sure. They never really had to test it out, after all. But he healed fast, so it generally made sense that his weird radioactive spider system also fought off any infections and illnesses.

— OR —

Peter gets sick, is a dramatic little shit, and Tony is just done with everything.

Appendicitis (ao3) - tommyparkerr T, 15k

Summary: In which Peter doesn't realize until too late that the flu shouldn't be this painful, and Tony Stark is right there to both lecture and comfort him (and accidentally call him his kid in the process).

Blankets (ao3) - kiwifeather G, 1k

Summary: Tony cares for an under-the-weather Peter the best way he knows how (which is pretty good, because he's a Dad™ now).

et tu, brute? (ao3) - turtle_bean G, 3k

Summary: Peter rounds the corner and gives a half-hearted hop. “All ready for the mission, Mr. Stark!”

Yeah, no.

“FRI, give me a read.”

“What -”

“101.7 degrees Fahrenheit, Mr. Stark,” Karen announces from Peter’s suit.

or, peter is sick, ned’s worried, and tony is... well, tony.

Extra Noodles (ao3) - duskblue G, 4k

Summary: Peter is staying with Tony while May is out of town. Unfortunately, Peter doesn't feel the best, so Tony is on a mission to figure out what's wrong so he can take the best possible care of him. He enlists his good friend, Bruce Banner in this task.

flushed away (ao3) - underpassgraffiti G, 2k

Summary: "I'm dying," he decides, flushing the toilet and resting his forehead against the rim. He feels disgusting. "I'm dying, I'm gonna die. Spider-Man dies to ravioli."

"Should I alert Boss?" Friday chirps, and Peter groans, waving a hand uselessly.

"No, m'fine," he grumbles. "WebMD will save me."

or: peter gets food poisoning & tony takes care of him.

Into the West (ao3) - ChocolateAndRedbull G, 1k

Summary: When a feverish Peter lets himself dwell on the past, Tony makes sure that he’s there to talk him through it

it's in the job description (ao3) - iron_spider_suit G, 8k

Summary: Peter gets sick just in time for movie night with the team. Tony does his best.

lessons in the metric system (ao3) - akapeterman G, 2k

Summary: “Pete,” Tony said slowly, “You’re sick.”

“No!” Peter said more urgently. “I’m hyp’thermic.”

“Trust me, you are the opposite of hypothermic right now, kiddo.”

or; Peter and Tony decide to road trip to Canada. Unfortunately, a peppermint air freshener happens to be Spider-Man's kryptonite. Confusion ensues. And honestly, Peter blames the American school system. They really should be more clear about the difference between Celsius and Farenheight.

Of Chicken Soup and Brooklyn-99 (ao3) - AnnabelleBlack20 G, 2k

Summary: Peter hadn’t gotten sick since the spider bite. But then again, his rotten Parker luck had a mind of its own. Lucky for him, he’s got a superhero in his corner. Nothing but pure fluff between IRONDAD and his SPIDERSON!

shaken up realities (shaking up reality) (ao3) - lemonlillybee M, 5k

Summary: This takes place after Endgame, and it’s a bit angsty, but everyone lives!

Written for the following Sicktember 2022 prompt: Cold Sweat

Sick Puppies (ao3) - OllieCollie G, 7k

Summary: Tony has been through a lot in his lifetime—from being kidnapped by terrorists to saving the world multiple times and just about everything in between—but he may be facing his toughest challenge yet: taking care of two kids with the flu.

Since I Have You (ao3) - lunasquared G, 2k

Summary: He didn’t register the fact that he started falling until he was caught by a pair of arms right before he hit the floor.

“Whoa there kiddo,” Tony said, helping Peter over to the couch. “What’s going on?”

“‘s hot.” Peter mumbled as he laid down on the couch thankful to finally be off his feet.

Peter gets sick and Tony helps take care of him.

we all have a hunger (ao3) - MotherKarizma G, 6k

Summary: “Morgan,” he croaked, throat afire, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Hey – hey, it’s okay, I’m just…”

“You’re sick.” She mustered up something like bravery, using it to straighten her back and plaster a very grown-up look on her face. “I’ll get Daddy!”

“No!” Morgan jumped, eyes wide. Peter fought to calm his voice. He offered her a smile that couldn’t have been convincing, not even to a five year old. “No, you don’t have to. I feel better now. You don’t have to tell him.”

Morgan’s lips wobbled. Peter knew what her fake pout looked like well enough to know this wasn’t it. “Petey…”

Peter had a lot of reasons to feel guilty. He felt guilty for scaring her. He felt guilty for forgetting to lock his bedroom door, for making scaring her a possibility. He kind of, in a way, felt guilty for doing it in the first place, though not nearly enough to stop.

But more than anything, he felt guilty for this: “Morgan, promise me you won’t tell him. He…he won’t let us swim anymore if you do. And I’m not sick, my tummy just hurt a little bit, but I’m all better now. Promise me you won’t tell him, okay?”

“But…”

“Morgan. Promise.”

When I'm Sick Or Suffering (I'll Still Call You) (ao3) - l_u_c_k_y_c_l_o_v_e_r G, 2k

Summary: Peter comes down with the flu, but a certain superhero makes sure he doesn't have to deal with it on his own.

Wingman (ao3) - Sahiya G, 4k

Summary: Holy shit, Rhodey thought. Tony’s a dad.

#themculibrary #marvel #mcu #irondad #masterlists #irondad masterlist #sick!peter #sick!peter masterlist

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neverniko101 · 7 days

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woo I'm finally here ready to halp

I've got plenty of supplies including: food, cuddle buddies, blankets, moneys, your mom, BOOKS, puppies, kittens, a snake,

Featuring the great and powerful @ravioli-randomness

Who is apparently my mother

And simultaneously a plate of pasta

Don’t question it

Side note: Ay, I’m getting asks again! As always, it may take me a bit to answer because of drawing and life, but I love getting asks! Please be sure to specific who they’re to^^

- - - - - - - - - -

Masterpost

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sisters-sideblog · 2 days

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And my other fill for Ravioli ship week, for that most classic trope of "Only One Bed!" Read it here or on Ao3.

△△△

Link wasn’t home much for a while. After his recovery and agreement that Ravio could use his house while he was away, he promptly found himself halfway across the country chasing clues for several weeks straight.

He did make it back home eventually. Shaking off the dungeon dust, he staggered back to rest and resupply, so tired he’d forgotten Ravio would be there and nearly drew his sword at the enthusiastic greeting that waited for him in what he was used to thinking of as an empty house.

In fairness, his abrupt return seemed to startle Ravio as well.

Now he slumped over dinner, already eyeing the corner where his bed had been shoved aside. It looked like there was just enough room to push one of Ravio’s added tables out of the way and crawl in.

…In fact.

Yes.

There were scuff marks on the floor. New ones, as if someone had been doing exactly that for several nights.

Link realized he’d stopped chewing, spoon dangling precariously from limp fingers. At his back, the sounds of Ravio enjoying his own meal fell suspiciously silent.

It occurred to Link. Finally, belatedly. That he perhaps should have thought of this sooner.

He hadn’t seen any of Ravio’s possessions aside from the stuff he sold. Wasn’t honestly sure he even had any. But the bag was obviously magical, so maybe…?

Link cleared his throat. Ravio twitched at the sound, spoon clattering against his bowl.

“Where have you been sleeping?” Link asked in the most neutral tone he could manage.

“Um. Well. You see.”

When Ravio didn’t continue, Link waited. But aside from clearing his own throat in a distinctly nervous manner, Ravio didn’t continue. Link finally turned to look at him. From the way Ravio dropped his spoon entirely, there was some kind of expression on his face.

“You’ve been sleeping in my bed.”

“I’m terribly sorry, Mister Hero!” Ravio immediately returned in a loud but not terribly sincere tone. “I had to leave home so quickly, you see, and I was sleeping on the ground with all those dreadful monsters around before you so graciously lent me your home. It isn’t very comfortable down there. As, ah. As you know. since you’ve probably been sleeping on the ground, too.” He faltered to a stop rather than try to dig himself back out of the hole he’d talked himself into. His hands were wringing together, his posture hunched in a way that made Link think he might be about to throw himself back down on the ground like he had when he was begging for a place to stay. Link couldn’t see the extraordinarily sad puppydog eyes, but he could feel them aimed right at him.

He had spare blankets and a bedroll. The space in front of the fire would be perfectly warm.

But Link wouldn’t get any sleep himself if he made Ravio sleep on the ground while he enjoyed the comfort of a bed mere steps away. If the guilt didn’t keep him up, the sounds of Ravio shifting around certainly would.

He sighed. “Fine.”

Rounded shoulders immediately straightened. Link swore the fake ears on the hood perked straight up. “Really? Oh, thank you, Mister Hero! I promise you won’t even notice I’m there!”

Link doubted that.

△△△

The problem of logistics returned once, after much arguing, they had cleared sufficient space around the bed for them to both now be standing on either side of it. The dying fire cast a dull orange glow through the room, the door locked and the shutters closed for the night. Link was halfway through trying not to think too hard as he stripped down to his nightclothes before he realized Ravio had pulled his boots off and stopped, reaching to fold back his side of the covers with the bunny hood still on.

“Are you going to sleep with that on?” Link didn’t really want those giant embroidered eyes staring at him in the middle of the night.

“I usually don’t,” Ravio said, which wasn’t an answer.

“I don’t care what you look like,” Link tried.

It didn’t seem to help. Ravio faltered, wringing his hands and just standing there awkwardly. He finally cleared his throat. “Could you turn around?”

Eyes narrowed, Link gave him a suspicious visual sweep. “Why?”

“I’m going to take it off.”

“I might roll over in my sleep,” Link warned. He still didn’t have the faintest idea why Ravio didn’t want him to know what he looked like, but obviously he cared quite a bit. It was only fair to warn him.

“I know, friend, I didn’t mean you had to stay facing away all night! I have this!” He pulled something from one voluminous sleeve; after a bit of squinting, Link first thought it a mask, then a blindfold. But it had no eyeholes to be the former and looked too padded and comfortable to be the latter.

“I’m not wearing a blindfold!” he said hotly.

Ravio, Link had noticed, seemed to almost fluff up and out when he worried he’d angered someone against himself. Like a frightened cat with puffed out fur trying to make itself bigger than it was. “It’s not for you, it’s for me! And it’s a sleeping mask, not a blindfold!”

They stared at each other from across the bed. One beat. Two.

Feeling red in the cheeks and more than a little foolish, Link turned around. Rustling sounds behind him; the covers folding back. He heard Ravio sit, then near silence for several long moments, save Ravio hissing a brief curse to himself.

“You can turn around now,” he finally said. When Link did, he found Ravio sitting upright in the bed, hugging the far side, his hood traded for some kind of silk wrap that completely covered his hair and ears and the “sleeping mask.” Between the two, he was still nearly as covered as with the hood alone. Unlike with the hood, it was obvious he could no longer see, the direction of his head aimed somewhere more towards the middle of the room than Link himself.

“Well. Good night, Mister Hero,” Ravio said, sounding as awkward as Link felt.

“Good night,” Link echoed. He watched Ravio lie down and roll onto his side, facing away.

Climbing into his bed with someone else already in it was… odd. Link tried to lay on his back, since that seemed the safest way to not actually touch his bedmate. But he’d never been much of a back sleeper. It didn’t take long for things to start to ache, and no amount of fidgeting was making it any better.

Ravio politely didn’t mention Link’s shifting, but his shoulders drew up under the covers.

This wasn’t going to work. Time for Plan B.

Trying hard to roll over without pulling any of the covers off of his bedmate, Link gave in and flipped to his side.

This presented a new problem. His bed wasn’t terribly large. When he tried to curl up it pressed their backs together; a feeling startling in its intimacy. But more importantly, drawing his feet up meant he encountered Ravio’s own.

“Your toes are cold!” Link yelped.

“So are yours!” Ravio lied.

“They are not!” Link yanked them further up regardless to get his poor innocent calves away from Ravio’s freezing toes, but that just pressed their backs more firmly together. Grumbling, he flipped over again. Onto his stomach now, head turned to the side on his pillow so he could breathe, one arm hugging the pillow and the other curled up against himself; a position Gully had found him in more than once when he was sent to see why Link wasn’t yet awake and working at his apprenticeship. He’d turned his head habitually to the left, and so now faced Ravio, his nose nearly tucked all the way up against the back of his neck. He thought he saw Ravio shiver when he exhaled.

Link liked the way he smelled.

“Is this okay?” He felt the need to check.

“Perfectly fine, Mister Hero!” Ravio returned in a pitch that could accurately be described as a squeak. Link didn’t have the mental energy left to check whether he meant it. The past few weeks had been long, and now that he was finally comfortable they were catching up to him. Incoming slumber weighed down all his limbs.

It felt nice. To fall asleep next to someone. It felt really, really nice.

Not falling asleep on a hard dungeon floor helped, too. Ravio was right. Sleeping on the ground sucked.

Even if he did wake up in the middle of the night to find that Ravio had stolen all the covers. Ravio put them back when he rose before Link did in the morning; Link woke to the warmth of someone else’s lingering body heat in the blankets heaped up over him. It was a feeling he thought he could very quickly get used to.

#raviolishipweek #ravioli #albw #ravio #link #raviolink #myfic

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hylianmewmew · 2 months

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burnt toast: ravio x link (ravioli)

Today was going to be just great. Link huffed as he let his body thump back down on the bed with a painful thud. His joints were on fire and his muscles throbbed from past injuries. The gentle patter of the rain outside only made the deeply embedded pain hurt more. Deep breaths Link. He rummaged on his nightstand in the still dark room for his rings, hoping that the small amounts of magic would help ease the pain. Tears encroached the edge of Link’s vision, being forced to spill over from the amount of pain he was in.

A hand snuck around his waist from the opposite side of the bed, Ravio pressed a cool hand to Link’s skin who rolled over to Ravio’s side and clung onto the merchant. He wanted nothing more than to melt into his partner and not have to feel the oncoming chronic pain episode. He sobbed softly into Ravio’s shirt, today was going to be a particularly bad episode apparently. Ravio got up without a sound, causing Link to whine and reach for him.

“It’s ok bunny, I’ll be right back. I’m going to grab a potion and make you some food and tea. You need to keep your strength up to cope with this episode. Do you want one of the muffins I made yesterday or toast?” Ravio paused and held a hand out for Link to tactile sign his request on. Link signed the word for ‘toast’ on Ravio’s hand and buried himself in their blankets once more. “Toast it is! Have Sheerow yell for me if you need me, I’ll be as fast as I can.”

Ravio scurried off, leaving Link alone with his pain and Sheerow curled up in the crook of his neck, acting more cat-like than bird. Being left alone in the silence of the bedroom was a fate worse than death to Link’s overly dramatic pain-addled brain. Downstairs he could hear Ravio rushing around the kitchen, humming as he clanked around. The smell of burnt toast and almost too strongly steeped tea wafted upstairs as Ravio yelped and let loose a string of profanities to which Link couldn’t help but snicker at. Ravio’s one talent in the kitchen was the ability to burn almost anything despite his best efforts.

A particularly nasty wave of pain hit Link leaving a bitter taste in his mouth, coating his joints in mind numbing pain. He hissed, “Fucking shit that’s bad.”

His head rang, the darkened room spinning. Link wanted to scream, rip and tear at his own flesh, to bash his head in until the pain receptors ceased to work. But he knew better than that, he knew to ride out the pain, to wait until his body returned to that dull, aching, nagging sensation that plagued his waking hours. The kind that not even a fairy or strongest healing potion could solve. Link was used to this, he could get through this again.

Again.

That was it. Hot, acidic tears burned on his skin threatening to tear his body apart limb from limb. He’d saved worlds innumerable times, anything Hylia threw at him he handled. He was a fucking hero, a legend to the people, the kind of person who small children looked up to and used as a character in their play pretend games. Link had to be stronger than this; it wasn't an option.

“Oh bunny, it’s gonna be ok. Here, let me help you sit up a bit so you can drink this.” Ravio had appeared by Link’s side, tray of food and drinks in hand. He set the tray down on the nightstand and helped scoot Link up in bed and tried to hand him a potion.

Link shook his head, boring holes into the glass of the potion bottle. “Never helps enough, don’t wanna.”

Clicking his tongue Ravio cupped Link’s face, brushing the tears away with his thumb. “Does taking a potion help at least a little bit?”

Link nodded slowly, knowing exactly where this was going.

“That’s good, now can you please take the potion? Any little bit of relief is worth it. Don’t punish your body further.” Ravio’s voice was gentle and soothing as he coaxed Link into taking the potion.

Link grumbled before finally caving and downing the potion, tingles spreading through his body as the potion did its job. He hated the way potions felt, the pins and needles sensation made Link want to peel off his skin. It was almost worse than experiencing the pain alone. It was a little dramatic of a statement but that wouldn’t make him change his mind on how much he hated potions. He chased down the potion with his tea, heavily sugared with lots of cream still grimacing at the sensation the potion left behind.

“I deserve a kiss and a day’s worth of cuddles for that.” Link signed as he pouted and puckered his lips playfully. He yelped slightly when Ravio followed through with his playful demand, climbing into bed carefully and pressing a kiss to Link’s lips. Ravio scooted closer to Link, squeezing him gently but firmly holding him close.

“I love you so much bunny. You’re being so strong right now, kick this pain flare up in the ass.” Ravio rested his chin on Link’s shoulder, “I believe in you.”

Link couldn’t help but cry even more, those words meant so much coming from Ravio meant the world to him. He flipped over to face Ravio and buried his face in the merchant’s scarf, inhaling his scent of cinnamon and cloves. The pain hadn’t subsided nearly enough but the potion did take the edge off enough for Link to finally relax and melt into Ravio’s embrace. Somehow that made everything better.

#legend of zelda #the legend of zelda #tloz #loz #ravioli ship #raviolink #ravio x link #albw #ravio #link #mew fics

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i-justreally-like-cats-okay · 1 year

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This is my croissant, Ravioli, and I'm wondering is this the equivalent of sticking a foot out of the blanket when too hot?

#cat #kitten #cute #adorable #submission

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mainlysarcastic · 3 months

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River was supposed to have a run with the 10th Doctor?!??!!

Oh how I would have loved to see that

I want to see their dynamic through the 10th Doctor will all the crazy complexities it would bring

Their dynamic would be top tier

#doctor who #echo rewatches doctor who #grassfed moon #blanket ravioli #blanket ravioli thoughts #river song #10th doctor

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socialmediasocrates · 18 days

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MITZIE AND THE THINGS SHE FOUND IN THE RIVER; a wip intro

(intro graphics by @veneritia)

Genre: new adult, urban fantasy

Tropes: Cloudcuckoolander, But for Me, It Was Tuesday, Her Boyfriend's Jacket, Non-Linear Character, Red String of Fate, Necromancer, Child of Forbidden Love, Anthropomorphic Personification, Revenant Zombie, Interactive Narrator

5 Song Playlist: Inkpot Gods, Bulletproof Heart, The Last of the Real Ones, Call Your Mom, Breath of Life

TL;DR: Keyesville, PA's got a serial killer, and it's up to "undergrad" witch Mitzie Morse and yoga instructor Khalil Bashir to stop them.

Summary:

For six months, Mitzie Morse has been pulling murder victims out of the river.

She gets them fixed up, so she figures it's not really a big deal, but there's definitely a serial killer on the loose. One who's ramped up their activity lately, a pattern of escalation in both violence and frequency of killings that would give anyone other than Mitzie some pause. Necromancers have a dysfunctional relationship with reality. Someone has to remind them that death is scary for most people, or they forget. Luckily (for Keyesville, not Mitzie) the latest victim, burnt out physical therapist turned yoga instructor Khalil Bashir, is happy to remind her that she has the power to stop these killings once and for all. Unluckily (for Keyesville, for Mitzie, and mostly for Khalil) a quirk of fate and magic has bound the two of them together. Doubly unluckily (for Keyesville, for Khalil, and mostly for Mitzie), the killer has set their sights on a new target: Mitzie Morse.

Characters

Mitzie Morse

like all necromancers, mitzie has a sense of style kindly described as "macabre" and accurately described as "fucking gross." dir en grey, gazette, and my chemical romance posters war with gruesome anatomical diagrams of creatures ranging from humans to unicorns to, somehow, dodo birds for wall space. her kitchen cabinets are home to a collection of mismatched thrifted cups, plates, and bowls, an ancient, somewhat decrepit, rice cooker, and an array of body parts preserved in mason jars. the colorful ones your least favorite high school classmates use for drinks in their instagram posts.

[…]

"i think he might need a new left eye." she takes a step back to survey her handiwork. "maybe a couple toes and fingers, too. do i still have toes and fingers?"

unfortunately, the answer to that is yes. they're in the pantry, next to the box of gushers. the one that's already open, not the unopened one on the top shelf. kind of wedged between the gushers and the canned ravioli. yep, she's found them. she's never explained why she keeps them in there, to me or anyone, at least not in a way that i'm willing to accept.

"i told you, there's not enough space in the cabinets."

there would be plenty of space if she got rid of all the novelty cups.

"i don't want to get rid of my novelty cups."

she should, they're grungy in the gross way.

Khalil Bashir

"who are you?"

anyway, the yoga instructor, khalil, is up.

he's still sitting on mitzie's kitchen table, the blanket she threw over him folded over itself in his lap. he's twisting around, trying to figure out where he is (you're in mitzie's apartment, i just said that) and where i am (everywhere all at once, but i'm incorporeal so you can stop looking).

"who are you? who the fuck is mitzie?" he's got that high-pitched edge to his voice that people get when they're panicking. unfortunate.

"hello?"

oh. right. i'm stevie.

[…]

"what is this?" he holds the gift card out from himself like it's going to bite him.

"a twenty five dollar gift card!" mitzie stares at khalil. khalil stares back at mitzie. this goes on long enough that she decides to elaborate, "you know, for your trouble."

he looks like he'd like to say something but isn't fully certain what he wants to say or how he wants to say it. this is a common reaction to mitzie. she does tend to just open her mouth and say things. khalil opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens his mouth, then closes it. he looks at the gift card. he looks at mitzie. he looks at the gift card. he sighs, shakes his head, and stuffs it in a pocket.

"why did you settle on twenty five dollar gift cards?"

"i dunno, it seemed fair."

"right."

khalil's been having the longest day known to man for two and a half weeks.

Fatima Bashir

fatima is one of those unspeakably fashionable people that makes everything she wears look good. even, more than occasionally, dog vomit.

see, much like her brother burnt out on the whole "living in philly and fighting the demon in the homeless man outside the wawa for his life every time he wanted a hoagie" life, fatima got tired of having to sit through putting people's dogs to sleep for eighteen dollars an hour and no health insurance. so khalil's a yoga instructor, and fatima owns keyesville's first doggie daycare. somehow, her perfect manicures never get too fucked up.

"any news on khalil?" asks the office worker, passing a tupperware container of cookies across the counter. this is the fifth time today that someone has asked this. it is seven in the morning.

"not yet, but we're staying optimistic. thanks for the cookies; mom loved the last ones." it's true that her mom loved the cookies, but it's not true that she's thankful for them.

Johnny ???

"so, what's up with the mcdonald's napkins?" khalil is sitting extremely inadvisably unbuckled in the back of the van.

"no clue." two sharp turns and a hard stop at a red light. johnny sips his cucumber water placidly while everyone behind him climbs back into their seats. "gotta take 'em somewhere in oklahoma, though."

"how do you know that?"

"no clue."

johnny is a mystery wrapped in an enigma lodged in a mound of horse shit. you'll recall that his previous identity was cursed or something, so he turned it over to edna in exchange for the first of many mcdonald's napkins and a broken magic guitar. some garage sale special of unknown make, black paint flaking off the wood everywhere, strings curling around the pegboard like medusa's snakes. it doesn't matter how many times he changes the strings, or what he does when he changes them, they will always break as soon as he plays them, and the only song the guitar will reliably play is the mysterious one written on the mcdonald's napkins he keeps finding everywhere.

@seasteading ; @writinglyra ; @asablehart ; @zorya-km ; @silent-creed ; @cheshawrites ; @thewritersplace

#wtwcommunity #writeblr #writers on tumblr #urban fantasy #does this qualify as weird fiction #moth the hack writer #mitzie and the things she found in the river

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em-writes-stuff · 2 months

Text

"please don't"

day 20 of @febuwhump

caretaker and whumpee

1095 words

warnings: implied past abuse, young whumpee

Caretaker jumps up when someone knocks on the door. She trips over her feet to get to the door and nearly hits her head on the handle when she gets there. She takes a deep breath and looks through the peephole, not expecting her little brother to be standing there in a bundle of thin blankets.

She unlocks the door and looks at him. His eyes are unfocused, trained somewhere on the ground. Bruises litter his arms, legs, and what she can see of his torso. His hair is caked in mud and the curls that she took so much time to care for are dull and lifeless. His lip is split and his cheekbone bruised. Basically, he looks like he’s been thrown off a cliff.

“Whumpee?” She asks, taking a step out onto the porch.

He steps back on reflex, eyes focusing when he looks at her. For a second, he doesn’t recognize her. Then his eyes light with relief and he slumps forward, falling into her arms. “Caretaker.”

She catches him, hand coming around his back to support him. “What happened?”

He shakes his head and leans closer to her, arm wrapping tightly around her waist. “I’m fine.”

“Ok,” she says. “We don’t have to talk about it. Let’s go inside, alright?” He nods and lets her lead him into the house. “Are you hungry? I’ve got a few microwave meals in the freezer or we could order take out.”

She stops in the living room and peels him off of her, holding him an arms length away. “That blanket is filthy,” she says without thinking. She takes hold of it and tries to unwrap Whumpee from it, not seeing the terror in his face.

He swats her hand away and pulls it tighter around himself. “Please,” he says, looking at the ground. “Don’t.”

Caretaker nods and backs away, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

She clears her throat and shifts her feet. “So…dinner?”

Whumpee looks up from the ground and nods. Caretaker smiles softly and turns into the kitchen. “Ok, I’ve got white cheddar macaroni and cheese or beef ravioli. Which do you want?”

She walks out of the kitchen, both boxes in hand and holds them out to him. He looks at the boxes and shrugs, “Whichever you don’t want.”

She laughs and turns the boxes toward her, “I bought them both, so I want both of them.” Whumpee’s face falls and she quickly comes up with a solution. “How about I cook both of them, see which one I want then, and bring the other one out to you. We can eat on the couch like we used to when you’d stay home sick from school? Maybe turn on an old movie?”

He forces a smile and nods, “That sounds nice.”

She beams and turns back into the kitchen. “I’ll put these in now. You’ve got enough time to go and change if you want to. I know it’s been a while…but you’ve slimmed down so you might fit in your old clothes again.”

He stands there for a second before walking down the hallway to his old room.

There’s dust on the handle when he turns it and the door squeaks open. He walks into his room and turns the lamp on, then turns it off when he sees the dust covering it. The door doesn’t quite close, so he does his best before walking over to the window and opening the blinds, letting the afternoon sun filter in.

Caretaker tiptoes down the hallway and peeks into Whumpee’s room. He’s standing in front of the window with his eyes closed. He’d dropped the blanket and Caretaker turns around, guilty that she would invade Whumpee’s privacy like that. She takes a deep breath and knocks softly on the door. “Hey, there’s about two minutes left. You almost ready?” She can hear him shuffling around in the room and nods to herself. “Just come out when you’re done, ok? I’ll pull a movie up and be on the couch.”

There’s a sound of confirmation from him and she turns back down the hallway and into the living room. She picks up the remote and scrolls through the channels before finding something that she and Whumpee used to watch all the time. She clicks on it and turns the volume up.

The microwave beeps and she hurries into the kitchen to take it out before it beeps again. It burns her hand and she drops it, cursing softly to herself.

The red sauce splatters all over the floor and nearby cabinets. She curses and picks up the ravioli with her fingers, dropping them back in the bowl. Her fingertips burn by the time she’s done, so she runs her hand under cool water for a minute while she digs through a drawer with the other hand, looking for a washcloth. She runs the cloth under the water and wrings it out in the sink.

The sauce didn’t have time to dry, so it comes up easily, only staining the rug in front of the sink. She rinses the rag out and hangs it on the faucet, then pulls two forks out of the sink to wash.

She can hear Whumpee’s footsteps in the living room and yells over to him, “I’m almost done! Just need to wash silverware and I’ll be out! Get comfortable, I think there’s a blanket in the cabinet!”

He doesn’t respond, but she can hear the cabinet open and something fall out.

“You ok?” She asks, tilting back to look into the living room.

Whumpee’s stood in front of the cabinet, eyes locked on whatever fell. He’s in long sleeves and sweatpants, both of which pool around him.

“Whumpee?”

His head snaps up to look at her and he nods, “Yeah, just…scared me is all.”

She smiles and dries the forks off with a towel, then sticks them in the bowls and walks to the living room.

“You get macaroni tonight.” she says, holding the bowl out to him. “Careful, it’s hot.”

He takes it and picks up a blanket from the floor. Wrapping it around himself, he sits on the couch and scoots back into the corner of it, knees drawn up to his chest.

Caretaker looks at him and bites her cheek, debating what to do. She decides to pick up a blanket and sit on the other side of the couch, leg extended so it’s almost touching Whumpee.

For a second, he stares at it, but then turns his attention back to the food.

#febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday20 #whump #whumpee #caretaker #family whump #young whumpee #please don't #em writes #em writes stuff #my writing #whump writing #whump fic

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arueternity · 1 year

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If possible, could you write about where the reader gets burned while cooking, and they act like it's no big deal but the Sleep Token boys are like "you are fucking bleeding" how would each of them react?? Love ur writing sm btw <333

Helllooo! Here's that request... I enjoyed writing it because honestly, I'd burn myself too. <3 Vessel

You’re trying to cook some soup for him, thinking maybe since he sings and screams so much it’ll help his throat.

Somehow, while transferring it to a bowl, you spill some on yourself.

You hiss and put the pot down, of course, your sound of pain alerts Vessel.

He’s quickly sprinting into the room to turn you around and look you over.

Once he noticed you favoring your hand he rolls his eyes.

“You’re not supposed to burn yourself”

Being the guarded off softie he is, he takes your hand to the sink and runs cold water over it.

He lets out a soft and shakes his head before turning the water off and looking at you. Through the mask, you can see his glaze is gentle, it has you melting and forgetting about the pain in your hand. Vessel brings said hand to his face, eyes locked with yours the whole time. He places gentle kisses on the burns and shakes his head once more. “Don’t hurt yourself for me”

The two of you had been relaxing after a night of partying.

Cuddling up in his “high corner” a place piled high with blankets and pillows.

Your stomach growling annoying no matter how much you tried to will it away.

II laughs and suggest you make a frozen pizza.

You had set the oven to preheat and everything. Once it beeped you attempted to slide the pizza into it.

In the process your forearm touched the hot rack, burning the fuck out of you.

You yelled, probably loud enough to wake up the whole house.

II, through his cloudy high rushes to you.

“Babe! Shit what happened?!” He grabs at your arm holding it in his grasp gently. He looks at the oven and glares at it before slowly pulling you away from it. Even in pain, you laugh at him softly, his antics making you forget the pain you were in. “It’s a demon baby... A demon I tell you.” You kiss his nose over his mask while reaching to grab the first aid. He takes it from you as though you had offended him. II gently applies the burn cream to your arm while mumbling about the “demon oven.” You roll your eyes and sit back enjoying the gentle treat.

III

Your creature had walked to you after practice, looking extremely pitiful.

He always did this, go to practice, get hungry but be too tired to cook, come to you and beg for a grilled cheese.

He had always said it tasted better when you did it, which of course it did.

You had finished the grilled cheeses and began to clean up.

Being tired and forgetful, you touched the still on stovetop.

Your scream alerted him and before you could even get to the sink to cool the burn, your creature was hovering over you confused and scared.

“What’s wrong! Holy shit what did you do! Why did you scream!” He was panicking, frantically looking for the first aid kit. You couldn’t help but laugh at him while you cooled off the burn on your fingertips. “Where is it! Where the fuck is it!” III was tearing up the kitchen in his panic. He finally finds it in one of the cabinets and he quickly grabs your hand. He looks at you with so much concern and love. “You’ll be fine… right?”

It was your first time cooking ravioli, wanting to make him something nice after what he’s done for you.

It was difficult to say the least, following the recipe to make everything homemade.

At one point you got frustrated and weren’t paying attention.

The knife ended up cutting your finger, the pain not really hitting you till the blood was clearly visible.

You let out a harsh Fuck! Before dropping the knife and running to find the first aid.

The clattering of the knife and your startled noise caught IV’s attention from the livingroom.

He looks at you stunned before standing the first aid kit from you

IV forcefully points for you to sit on the barstool by the kitchen island. He lets out a small huff when you refused then gently guides you to the sit. You let him work on tending to the cut, the two of you in quiet peace. The cooking in the background having been turned off while you had searched. IV looks at you slightly disappointed after applying the bandaid, the bandaid had small versions of them as cats on it. You smiled and leaned forward to rest your forehead against his. He hums softly and nuzzles into you. Voice raspy from barely speaking, “Be careful… We don’t need your blood this time…”

#sleep token #sleep token vessel #sleep token ii #sleep token iii #sleep token iv #sleep token headcanons #sleep token x reader #vessel x reader #sleep token ii x reader #x reader #headcanon #imagine #sleep token iii x reader #sleep token iv x reader #purrtoken

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