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softlyspector · 6 months

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Grays

Summary: Joel likes to be read to and held and have his hair stroked. He would never dare admit it, though. Based on this lovely ask.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Word count: ~4k

Warnings: Joel being insecure about his looks, age, gray hair (idiot 🙄 affectionate), Joel being a nuisance by sweating and chopping wood, Joel's bad attitude, reader is implied to be from the south/Appalachia (and has an accent), food as a love language, food mentions and eating, minor internal angst, Joel character study?because I'm insane, very domestic, fall vibes

A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you like this and thank you to the anon who sent that ask. I wrote this in just a few hours because you inspired me so and a price can't be put on that. Thank you all for always being so lovely and letting me write whatever comes to mind/inspires at the time💕

“Are you almost done with that?”

The ax arcs through the air again, splits solidly through the log and then thumps down onto the stump beneath. Two halves of split wood go flying in opposite directions, and you set about gathering them up for Joel, who pauses, one hand on his hip as breathes heavily through his nose.

There’s a tendril of sweat snaking down his temple; the ax hangs loosely from one hand like it weighs nothing.

“What?” He snaps.

You smile and repress the urge to laugh, turning your back so he doesn’t see. “I said, are you almost done?”

He makes a disbelieving noise, an indignant half-squak. “This has gotta be done before winter sets in, in case it slipped your mind.”

“I didn’t say it doesn’t,” you agree, rounding the stump to prop up one of the halves back onto the ax scarred stump. “It’s just that you’ve been at it for a good long while. Ain’t you tired?”

You step back and Joel straightens his shoulders, fingers tightening around the handle of the ax again. He lifts and swings, muscle straining in his arms, shirt lifting just enough that you see a thin line of his skin. The log splits, and you step forward with the other piece, ignoring the flutter in your belly at the sight of him. “Would go faster with help,” he grouses pointedly.

“Mhm, or you could come get some dinner. It’s gettin’ dark.”

Grunt, lift, swing, slice.

No answer.

You roll your eyes and instead sweep the fallen pieces of scattered wood into your arms and start toward the growing pile of firewood along the back side of the house. You don’t get very far with your burden. “Hey,” he says, tugging you back by your shoulder. “Quit that. C’mere.” The firewood is out of your arms before you can protest.

He shoulders past you, heat radiating off him in dizzying waves. The autumn air is chilly and growing colder, the day dunked in a gray, dusky fading light. The sky is that late autumn purple it sometimes gets to be, rosy like blush and lavender, the fingers of the trees sharp and black against the horizon. “If you want help,” you comment, following closely behind him. “You do actually have to let me help.”

His shoulders pull taut, the wide cut of them straining at the red flannel he’s outfitted in. “Uh-huh.” He drops the wood on the top of the pile and turns back to you. His eyes flicker over you, chin tucking down, head tilting as he assesses you. “You eat?”

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes at him.

Typical Joel.

“Might be what I’d come to fetch you for. Supper’s on.”

“That so?”

“Chicken and dumplings,” you say by way of explanation. “And gravy.”

“Sounds good.” He says it with a note of surprise in his voice. “Real good.”

“‘Cause it is. Come eat. The work will be here tomorrow. You’ll even have my help that time around. If ya happen to let me help that is.” You beckon him with a jerk of your chin toward the open back door.

He swipes the back of his hand over his forehead, then runs it down his face, palm cupping his chin. The thick tendons outlined in his throat tighten when he clenches his jaw and considers the mess of the backyard. Warm yellow light is starting to unspool across the lawn, over long dead grass and the whisper of browned leaves. “Ellie eat?”

“She’s with those friends of hers tonight. Suppose she’ll eat with them.”

He makes another vague noise in the back of his throat, still looking at the stack of logs he’d yet to split.

Joel does this sometimes. Works himself like a dog, gets grouchy and sharp, forgets to eat.

Sometimes it takes a firm hand and hard pressed coaxing to get him to give it up.

If you weren’t there, you wonder how long it’d last, that rise and fall of the ax, the strain of his body, already well past its limits.

He must be exhausted and hungry, not that he’d ever rightly admit to that.

That’s another thing you wonder after — did Joel even feel those things anymore?

Yes, you think. Since Jackson, yes. He just had a way of ignoring his own needs. He’d run on empty for days if he had to.

But he hesitates, makes a show of surveying the work he has left for him, the last dregs of the dying sun spilling weak across the yard. Or, maybe it's not a show. With Joel, things rarely are. He’s earnest, feet rooted firmly to the ground.

You watch him while he deliberates. One huge hand is still fisted around the handle of the ax, the bulk of his forearm straining, muscle and vein twisting prettily beneath flushed, damp skin. His sleeves are rolled to his elbows, the top few buttons of his shirt left undone. His chest and neck are tinted the same color, dappled in the same sheen of sweat.

His hair is starting to go properly silver, a dark attractive gray that extends to his beard, the chest hair that just pokes out against the top of the flannel.

It’s unfortunate, really, how he seems to get more beautiful each year. Age shouldn’t look as good as it does on him.

When your eyes flicker back to his, he’s already watching you. An unreadable expression is tangled over his features, complicated and unknowable. Just as quick as it’s there, it’s gone, his expression cleared. You aren’t sure what he’s seen on your face that makes him fold inward, shut the door closed on you.

“All right,” he agrees, leaning the ax against the stack of wood, seeming reluctant about it.

Still, he follows you up the back porch stairs and through the door, wipes his shoes on the mat and then toes them off as you close the door to the encroaching night.

There’s something about socked feet, bare feet, that is painfully domestic, painfully homey and full of a feeling you don’t know how to articulate anymore. Something that reminds you so starkly of life before. You’d both gone months, once, without ever taking your shoes off, aside to tape them and switch socks, too afraid you might not have a moment to put them back on.

Joel glances at you as you shuffle past him, a hand placed gently between his shoulders for just a second, before you trek further into the house. “Smells good,” he compliments, following close on your heels. “I ain’t had chicken n’ dumplings in years.”

“That so?”

“Mm.” He moves toward the stove in what you’re sure will be an attempt to serve both of you.

“Nuh uh, sit,” you intercept him bodily and direct him into the chair at the breakfast table.

He huffs at you and sits, only mildly annoyed.

“Crabby,” you comment, spooning out a sizable portion. You always feel that he doesn’t eat enough, that he tries to leave too much behind for you and Ellie, especially after hard work. Joel still ate like he expected rations to run out. It’s unconscious, but it still worries you.

“I ain’t crabby,” he gripes.

You roll your eyes, sit the plate in front of him, and press the back of your hand to his cheek. The sweat is drying tacky on his skin, the strained rose color fading from his cheeks in the warmth of the house. He should have been wearing a jacket; his skin is a clammy kind of chilled, even sweaty and warm as he is. “You’ve actually never not been crabby, and it’s worse when you haven’t eaten,” you inform and hand him a fork with your other hand. “Ellie would agree with me.”

His hair curls at the base of his skull with the evaporating humidity of his skin. Like his socked feet, it feels painfully domestic to witness. Incredibly human, which Joel seemed more than, sometimes. “Guess she would,” he agrees. You lean your hip into his side and wait for him to take a bite, moving your hand away from his cheek to rest on his shoulder.

Joel might show his love through killing himself chopping wood for the winter, but this is the way you do it. He can’t cook, anyhow, and it makes you feel good to give him something good. It reminds you of better times.

When he swallows, eyes fluttering closed at the taste, you pat his shoulder and start to pull away to get your own plate.

“Hey,” he catches at your hand. His fingers tangle briefly with yours. His thumb sweeps over your skin, soft about it, though he doesn’t say anything else for a long moment. “It’s real good.”

“You’re welcome, Joel.” You lean in and press a kiss to his cheek.

When you’re both done eating, he does the dishes, builds a fire in the grate in the living room so the room is warm when you find your way there, book in hand with the intention to complete a nightly ritual that he’s never raised complaint at since it was quietly started.

You alternate between words and music, and last night Joel had played the guitar for you in the chilled air of the back porch, a blanket tucked around your legs.

Joel would never dare admit it, not in ten thousand years, not in the pits of hell with a knife at his throat, but he likes to be taken care of, too.

It’s just so often that he bristles at it, feels guilty and faulty over it.

After dinner, with a full belly, and a stiff drink in him, he’s better about it.

Better about letting you shove him down onto the couch to thread your fingers through his hair, tugging at those delightfully gray locks. It’s longer now, too, and you like that too. You hope he forgets about getting it cut.

It’s such a nice look on him. Handsome. You should probably tell him that, but the words never come out.

He lets you do as you like, easy about it, eyes closed, breathing even and slow as you settle beside him, pressed tight to his chest, ass hanging off the edge of the sofa. You mean to open the book lodged somewhere between your bodies, but you don’t. You just look at him, sleepy, between the fire and the heavy food.

Maybe he’d never admit it but this is one of the many little ways he can accept it. He lets you feed him food that reminds you of your childhood, lets you read to him on alternating evenings, lets you bring him in from the cold when it starts to get dark.

“Should I add chicken and dumplings into our rotation?” You wonder aloud, tracing the lines by his eyes carefully, the vein in his throat, the hollow at his clavicle, the slope of his broad shoulders.

He only grunts and doesn’t open his eyes. “It was good.” And that’s the closest you’ll get to an admission that he would like to have it again.

“Glad for it, Miller,” you say and tuck yourself under his chin. You hear the book fall to the floor and make no move to get it. “You need a shower,” you complain instead, nose pressed to his throat.

He does, but he doesn’t smell bad. He smells like himself, sweat and sawdust and cedar, the faintest whiskey. It’s a human scent, almost comforting. And Joel has, frankly, smelled much worse.

He just locks one thick arm around your waist, the wide flat of his palm against your spine. “In a minute.” But he’s breathing deeply already, halfway to a place you can’t reach. His arm tightens, his head tips down heavily against yours, solid and comforting, mostly asleep.

“In a minute,” you echo.

Joel wakes to a dark living room, a chill creeping in around the edges of the room. You’re still pressed tight against him, though he can’t see how with the way you’re practically halfway onto the floor. If he loosens his arm even a fraction, you’ll go tumbling down.

He considers doing it for just a second, suppressing a chuckle at the unimpressed reaction it would garner, the wet cat look of anger and indignation that would pull over your face.

Instead, he nudges you awake, rubbing your back until you start to stir. The bedroom would be warmer for you, now that the fire had burned down. He hates the thought of you cold, always has. “Let’s go to bed,” he says in your ear.

He doesn’t know exactly where you came from before. It doesn’t really matter anymore, doesn’t hold any weight or meaning, since most places are just empty graveyards that can’t really be returned to. But wherever you came from gave you a pretty little accent, a twang in your voice that’s different from his.

It’s something he loves about you, sounds like home.

“Joel,” you complain, brow scrunching. “You just go on and leave me be.” It’s almost funny, how much twangier it is when you’re close to sleep.

“Can’t do that, honey. C’mon now,” He pats your hip and keeps a steady pressure on your back until you grumble and start to sit up. “Go up to bed. I’ll be there in a minute.”

You’re rubbing your eyes, leaning back against his legs. “Why?”

“Fire,” he nods to the still glowing embers as he sits up. “Don’t want the house burnin’ down. Wanna make sure Ellie got home all right, too.”

“Okay.” He keeps a hand on your waist until you’ve got your tired feet under you, still mostly asleep, he thinks, as you balance with one warm hand on his bent knee until you stumble away towards the stairs.

He sighs and tends to the fireplace, then checks out the kitchen’s back window to see the glow of Ellie’s lights on, before following you up the stairs. He expects a dark bedroom but you’re propped up against the headboard with the bedside lamp on, changed into sleep clothes but definitely still awake. “It ain’t that late,” you say when he arches a brow at you and leans against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. “And it’s my turn,” you hold up the battered copy of the book you’ve been slowly reading to him.

“It’s all right—”

“Uh-uh,” you interrupt. “Go shower. Then come here.”

He holds up his hands. “Yes ma’am.”

“Mhm,” you hum and flip idly through the book, no longer looking at him.

There’s a hope lodged in his heart that you’ll fall back asleep while you wait. It ain’t that he doesn’t want to hear you read. He’s invested in that story now, and he loves your voice even if he didn’t. The cadence and shape of the words, the rumble of your voice against his ear is a nice balm to drift off to.

What's more is that you deserve the sleep, that he shouldn’t have fallen asleep on you downstairs.

There’s a lot of things about you that scare him. How much he cares for you, for one. But the thing bothering him most now is the one that stares back at him when he looks in the mirror.

Jesus, it’s like everyday there’s more gray in his hair, his beard, even his chest hair is starting to go white and gray. It’s like everyday, he looks and gets a little bit older.

It’s goddamn embarrassing the way he worries about it, the way it bothers him. He doesn’t remember aging, isn’t really sure when it happened. Maybe he spent so many years avoiding the mirror he missed it.

And, well, it wasn’t important before. But now that he has time to think beyond the next day, the next meal, he thinks about it. About how fucking old he looks, especially next to you.

You aren’t younger than him, not but maybe a couple years, if you are at all—another thing that doesn't matter anymore, birthdays and age and counting the years—but you don’t look your age. Your hair has retained its color, aside from the very artful looking gray starting to creep in at your temples, just barely there. Your face isn’t lined, not like his anyway, delicate, graceful little lines by your eyes, instead of the deep creases that crack up his. You don’t seem to ache in the same way he does, either. You don’t seem to feel old.

Maybe that’s why he’s so set on working himself down to the bone over chopping that wood, to prove he was still worth something to you, worth keeping around. Proof that he could keep up with what needed keeping up with.

He watches himself in the mirror, the lines under his eyes and across his forehead, age creeping in around the edge of him like a slow poison. The way you look at him sometimes. . .he knows you think about it too, know it too. You had been in the yard before dinner, eyes locked on him, a look on your face he couldn’t quite get a read on.

It worries him. Makes him sharp with you when he should be the opposite.

It’s embarrassing, really, the way he thinks about it, hates the way your eyes linger on him and feels too fucking self-concious about it to just ask you what you’re thinking. Maybe he just doesn’t want to know.

He glances away from his reflection, a sigh heavy in his chest. He needs a damn haircut, if nothing else.

He makes quick work of the shower, dressing in something warm because he’s always cold, even if that's just another thing he won’t admit to and that is an aversion that gets worse as the years go by.

You gave him a scarf recently, blue and soft, and he wears it because he likes the way you look at him when he leaves in the morning with it on.

When he pushes the door open, you’re still awake, curled up on his side of the bed, book held open with one hand. “Thought we were supposed to do that together,” he says mildly.

“I’m just re-reading where we left off.”

“Mm,” he sits down at your hip. “Scooch.”

You move over just enough for him to lie down, which he does with a huff and a groan. “You got that whole other side there, you know.”

“I like being close to you.”

“Well it ain’t like I’m far. Now c’mon, move it.”

“Cranky.”

“Thought it was crabby?”

“Ha ha,” you deadpan. “Real funny. Y’know sometimes I don’t even know if y’like me at all.”

The way you say it makes something sting in his chest, a sharp little barb wedged between two of his ribs.

You start to move further away, like he asked, when he hooks an arm around your waist, props himself up over you, tangled up in the middle of the bed like you’d end up anyway. “Like ain’t exactly the word I would use.”

A wicked smile pulls the corners of your mouth up. “What word would you use then?”

“Hm,” he looks you over, feels the curve of your thigh, the hook of your knee, press against his hip. “I think you already know what word I’d use.”

You reach up to cup his face between hands that have seen too much violence. The skin of your palms is softer than he remembers it being just a few years before, calloused thumbs sweeping in a tender arch over the apples of his cheeks. “Mm, I think I do.”

“Yeah, y’do,” he agrees, and then lets you pull him down against your chest. The comb of your hand slides through his hair, against the back of his neck and the tops of his shoulders. It’s nice. It’s the kind of affection, attention he’s not sure he’s ever had before.

Not since he was a kid, at the very least. He’s never been the one that got held, just the one doing the holding, and he hates that he likes it.

And he does like it, craves it.

Things like this, they were so easy to get used to, and the hardest thing in the world to adjust to. The mix of it, the easiness and the hard knot of disbelief and potential rejection, make for a disarming cocktail.

You’re so warm and soft under him, the scent of you wild and homey, like cooking and chilled air and soap.

“You smell better,” you tease and pinch his bicep. “You awake?” He feels you shift, book cracked open over his shoulder. “Or am I reading to the ghosts?”

“You got me,” he mutters, curling his arms around your waist, behind your back, and you arch just a little to accommodate him. The material of your shirt rucks up under his hands, soft, scarred skin warm where he touches you. “I’m listenin’.”

You rub the back of his neck again but don’t start reading. He waits a few minutes, listening instead to the sound of your breath, even and slow in your chest, the tap of your heartbeat against his ear.

“You forget how or somethin’?” He asks eventually.

You shake your head, and the paperback comes to rest against his spine. “Have I ever said—” You stop and he waits, but nothing more is forthcoming, just your silence and the kind way you touch him.

“What?”

When he picks his head up, your brows are tilted down over your eyes; you’re frowning at him. “Nothin’,” you dismiss, massaging two fingers against his temple, not quite meeting his eyes.

“Said what?” He tries not to have a bite in his voice about it but he does anyway. Just a little bit of a snap, because he worries whatever you might have not said are all the things he thinks about himself.

You shrug. “I just think the gray looks real nice on you.” You twist a strand of his hair around your finger and tug gently.

He huffs, expecting you to grin at him so he knows you’re just teasing him. But you don’t, your gaze is reverent, adoring where it’s focused on him. “It just makes me look fuckin’ old,” he disagrees and sounds bitter about it.

“No, it means you got to get older, Joel. Not everyone gets the privilege.”

That takes the wind out of his sails. He doesn’t say anything else, words collecting in the back of his mouth like a little ocean he can’t seem to make drain away.

“It makes you look. . .rugged,” you decide, tracing the curve of his jaw. “Handsome.”

“You like it?”

“Yeah.” Another tug. “I love it.”

“Mm.” He clears his throat, tips his head down against your body again, the trapped wing of your heart fluttering faster than it had been before. “All right. Get to readin’ now.”

It makes it just a little bit harder to hate, if that look in your eyes was appreciation, affection. Maybe that’s what he’d seen in your face earlier, and couldn’t quite recognize it.

You tap the book against the back of his head. “Idiot,” you sigh, and then start to read.

It’s some kind of thriller, something you’d started at the beginning of October and still haven’t entirely worked through. The plot is a little ridiculous, all things considered. After all the horrors he’s seen, this book doesn’t do much to thrill him, though it is entertaining in its own way, maybe a little funny.

He’d have to find something new when you’re done with it. Something seasonally appropriate, if he can help it. Some kind of Hallmark holiday romance ordeal. He’d like to hear you giggle through reading something like that out loud.

Yeah, even if it keeps him up, he’d find you something like that.

When your voice fades, each word cottony and long in your mouth with fatigue, he reaches back to pluck the book from your hands, and then flick out the light.

“Baby,” you coo, and it’s nice to hear, nice to have you reaching for him in the dark, kissing him goodnight, because he’s yours, and you like him fine.

What’s the other word? The one that’s decidedly not like?

“Love you,” you say against his mouth, the edge of your lip sticking wetly to his. “Even though you’re always crabby.”

He loves you, too, even though he’s cranky about the whole goddamn world.

💕 Thank you for reading! I would love to hear any thoughts you might have! 💕

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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perceivedgodliness · 2 years

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Gna wear lolita tomorrow :D (unless its too hot :/)

#the bin #finally gonna wear my newest dress. unfortunately i cant wear the shoes i have for it cause the straps unbuckle a lot and im walking #so my mary janes will have to do. they are black and dont match but are less ugly than my sneakers and they are docs so they confy #i havent worn any since october of last year so im very excited!!!!#so sad that the whole summer time is no lolita since ive only got long sleeve ops and a dress i dont have a working petti for #its gettin chilly though! ! ! !

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flightlessangelwings · 2 months

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Could I Have This Kiss Forever?

Joel Miller x fem!reader

Important Note: This blog supports Palestine and does not condone or share the views of the creator of TLOU. Please interact with tlou critically and be aware of the zionistic views of its creator.

Word count-4.5k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), Valentine's Day fic, fluff, mutual pining, set in Jackson after the first game/season, reader is a baker/cook, reader can remember life before the outbreak but no age specified, food mention, oral (f receiving), praise, unprotected, soft pleasure dom Joel, squirting, feelings, no use of y/n

Notes- Happy Valentine's Day @saradika I'm your secret Valentine!!! I loved the prompt you gave and the idea came to me almost immediately! And I tried to fit as many things as you mentioned in this as I could! I hope you like it! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on when I post new things!

Joel could see his breath as he walked down the street. There was a nip in the air, and it stung his face as the cold hit what little exposed skin he had. Wrapping his jacket a little tighter, Joel huffed as the light layer of snow crunched beneath his feet. It wasn’t unusual for there to be cold and snow in mid February in Jackson, yet the glistening white in the trees always made its residents awestruck. The setting sun illuminated the land in a way that made the surrounding look like a painting. Even Joel had to appreciate the beauty of it all.

It reminded them of a simpler time, a more peaceful time. It reminded everyone of a time before the world collapsed, before there was the daily worry for their lives. Joel used to push those thoughts down. He used to try to ignore the sting of Sarah’s absence. But, the longer he was in Jackson with Tommy and Ellie and others who he would soon call friends, the more he allowed himself to think about his lost daughter and how much she would have loved the snow.

But, a tantalizing smell broke Joel out of his thoughts. As he passed the little building on the corner which had become a bakery slash bar, his thoughts turned to someone else: you.

You brought a new light to Jackson the day you arrived, and Joel was immediately taken with you. From the way your eyes captivated him to the way your smile made his heart flutter in a way no one else did, Joel was a goner from the moment he laid eyes on you. He kept it a secret, though. Life was hard enough as it was, even for those lucky enough to find their way to Jackson.

If Joel only knew you harbored the same secret he did…

Inside the building was the complete opposite of the chilly outside. It was warm and bright and the smells of various cakes and desserts permeated the space as you worked. You actually felt hot enough to shed your outer layers and rolled up your sleeves. You were so focused on the task in front of you that you didn’t hear the door open until a gruff voice cleared his throat.

Jumping up with a gasp, you looked up and locked eyes with… “Joel,” you breathed as you relaxed, “You startled me!”

“Sorry,” he helped his hands up in mock surrender, “I just wanted to check in on ya,” he continued, “It’s gettin’ late and you’re still here workin’ hard.”

“Oh,” you replied in a daze as you noticed the lack of sun from behind where Joel stood in the doorway, “Lost track of time, I guess,” you murmured, “I wanted to finish all these tonight for the big Valentine’s dance tomorrow night so I can enjoy the party too.”

Valentine’s Day… Joel didn’t even realize that was tomorrow. “Want a little help?” he offered, “I ain’t much good in the kitchen, but you can tell me what to do.”

You smirked as your mind ran with the thought of telling big strong Joel what to do, “Go wash your hands and you can help me with these last few cakes.”

“Yes ma’am,” Joel replied with a smirk of his own and both of you felt like the room just got a lot warmer.

Joel shrugged off his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his flannel shirt before he went to the sink to wash his hands and made his way back to you. He was positive Ellie would give him a hard time if she caught him like this- working with little sweets and desserts, following your orders instead of taking the lead. But, Joel also found he didn’t mind. He enjoyed the feeling of domestic bliss, even if it was only for this one evening.

“You’re really good at this,” Joel commented as he watched you meticulously decorate the various cakes you spent all afternoon baking.

“Thanks,” your heart fluttered at the compliment from Joel Miller, “I’ve always been creative since I was a kid. I liked making things… art and stuff. I actually wanted to be some kind of artist when I was younger, before…” you trailed off as you stopped and raised your eyes to meet his.

Both of you froze for a moment as you gazed into the other’s eyes. Time stopped, as did your breathing. The roughness around Joel’s eyes framed the softness that lay hidden there. Scars on his face told you he had been through a lot, but then again so had you. As you looked at him, studying his face, you completely forgot to breathe, losing yourself in his features.

Joel felt himself tense as he stared back at you. The warmth that surrounded him felt like it came from you, not the heat in the room. He wasn’t too good with the whole comforting thing, but Joel wanted nothing more than to take you in his arms and hold you close, protecting you from everything around. Normally, he was good at burying his feelings, but he slipped when his eyes flashed down to your lips for just the briefest moment.

Clearing his throat right away, Joel leaned back, breaking the trance you both were in, “Yeah,” he finally said, filling the silence, “You are an artist that’s for sure. You’re certainly better than me anyway,” he muttered as he held up the messily decorated cake in his hands.

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, “Joel,” you covered your face with your hands, “I’m sorry, I…” you wheezed as your laughter became uncontrollable.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Joel rolled his eyes. It didn’t bother him though, he knew he had many strengths and even before the outbreak, he couldn’t decorate a cake to save his life. Plus, the sound of your laughter was music to his eyes, and Joel loved to hear it whenever he could.

“Here,” you took a few breaths to gather yourself, “Let me show you a trick.”

You moved over to sit next to him and took the spatula from his hand, brushing it ever so slightly as you did so. A chill ran up your spine at the slight contact, but you swallowed hard and fought to keep your composure.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Joel asked, noticing the slight change in your demeanor.

“Fine,” you replied back right away, “Here,” you used the spatula to scoop some icing and ran it along the cake, “Just like painting a picture.”

“Beautiful,” Joel mumbled under his breath, completely ignoring the cake you were decorating.

Luckily, or unluckily, for Joel, you didn’t notice as you became too enthralled with what you were doing.

“There!” you sounded triumphant as you put the finishing touches on what cake Joel had worked on, “Ta da!” you held it up with pride and beamed at him for a moment before you set it down and turned to the far table, “Now just a few more to go…”

“I ain’t going nowhere,” Joel said, “As long as you won’t shit on my decorating anymore, I’ll stay and help… If you’ll have me.”

A mix of emotions ran though you. You wanted to laugh at him again for his poor decorating skills, but you also didn’t want him to leave your side. So, biting your lip to stifle a giggle, you replied, “Ok I promise I won’t laugh at you again.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” Joel smirked, sending a wave of heat through your body.

Hours passed and it was well into the night before you and Joel finally finished. You enjoyed his company, and the two of you filled the time shooting the shit while you worked. It took some time, but Joel finally let his guard down around you, and you loved that he trusted you enough to relax. And you trusted him too, and felt safe around him.

“Well I think that does it,” you sighed heavily as you wiped you face, “That was the last one!”

Joel looked at you with pure admiration on his face, as if he were a lovestruck teenager and the world was normal again. Then as he studied your face closer, he couldn’t help but let out a single soft laugh.

“What is it?” you asked, puzzled.

“Ya got a little…” Before he realized what he was doing, Joel reached out and brushed your face with his hand, wiping a smudge of frosting off your cheek, “There.”

You gasped softly as you stood there stunned, frozen in place as you felt a tingle where Joel touched your skin. Absentmindedly, you touched your cheek with your fingers, relishing in the lingering warmth of his touch.

Joel was about to apologize, but he also found himself in a trance. You just looked so beautiful, and he wasn’t sure what to make of your reaction to his touch.

But, before he could say hating, you broke the silence. “Hey Joel…” you started, suddenly feeling nervous as your skin warmed so much that you were sure the reminanta of the frosting on your face were about to sizzle.

“Yeah?”

“I uhh…” you fumbled over your words, your gaze dropping to the ground as you felt his eyes on you, “Thank you,” you breathed as you looked at Joel again, “I would have been here all night if you weren’t helping me.”

A flash of disappointment showed on Joel’s face before he glanced over your shoulder and noticed the hint of sun in the horizon, “It looks like we still did,” he muttered as he motioned toward the window.

You let out a heavy sigh, “Well fuck I guess we did,” you chuckled nervously, still feeling the lingering tension in the air between the two of you.

It hung in the air unspoken between the two of you: It’s Valentine’s Day.

You fiddled with your fingers nervously as you weren’t sure what to say. The air suddenly felt thick between the two of you, as if there was so much you both had to say. Yet, neither of you had the courage to break what you already had.

Joel cleared his throat as he closed the gap between your bodies and mumbled your name, “Listen I…” he rested a hand on your shoulder.

“Yes?” you looked at him with a hopeful expression, your lips parted as you breathed heavily.

“I uhh,” Joel stuttered. He scanned your face, taking in every inch of your beauty as the words were right on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he said, “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”

A brief flash of disappointment showed on your face before you gathered yourself, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Joel,” you replied in a hushed tone.

“Why don’t we go get some sleep before the big party tonight?” he offered, “I’ll put this all away for ya.”

“Yeah, ok,” you sounded distant, “See you tonight then?”

Joel smiled, “I wouldn’t miss it.”

That lifted your spirits, “See you tonight, Joel.”

The Valentine’s Day dance was a huge success, as were your cakes. Everyone made sure to stop and compliment you before they went back to dancing and enjoying their time. Some even asked you for a dance themselves, but you turned them all down. No, there was only one person you wanted to dance with, and he stood on the other end of the room.

“Go on, ask her to dance,” Ellie nudged Joel, “Or are you too fuckin’ scared?” she added with a tease, “Chicken!”

“Ellie,” Joel sighed as he rolled his eyes, “Just stay out of it, alright.”

Knowing when to back down, she raised her hands in surrender, “Alright, alright,” she slid her hands in her pockets and started to walked away before she glanced over her shoulder, “But don’t come crying to me when someone else asks her to dance cause you were too chickshit to.”

“Ellie!” Joel snapped, but she ran off and disappeared into the crowd, presumably to find Dina. Joel knew about Ellie’s little crush on her, but he decided to let her come to him on her own terms about it. He just wanted his kid to be happy after all…

Joel’s thought turned from Ellie to you as he scanned the room and found you again. You had moved slightly, but you still stood at the edge of the crowd, not dancing with anyone. You looked stunning as you found yourself right under a light as if it was a spotlight just for you. Your smile lit up the room as yet another person came up to compliment you, and Joel’s chest tightened as the person was obviously asking you to dance.

“Shit…” he mumbled under his breath, thinking he missed his chance.

But, Joel was surprised to see them walk away with a disappointed look on their face while you stayed in that same spot. You fiddled with your fingers for a moment before you scanned the room and locked eyes with Joel. Freezing in place, your mouth parted to let out a deep exhale.

“Fuck it,” Joel muttered to himself, thinking it was now to never. He crossed the room, greeting his brother on the way before he walked up to you. Joel tried to act calm and smooth to hide the nerves he secretly harbored, “Howdy ma’am,” he nodded his head once in a greeting as you giggled, “May I have this dance?” He extended a hand to you.

“Joel Miller,” you breathed, “I thought you’d never ask,” you grinned as you slid your hand in his.

You knew he didn’t usually dance, and your heart pounded in your chest as you wondered why he broke his streak. And the warmth of his large hand in yours radiated throughout your body, making you a little dizzy. But, Joel was there to catch you, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you close as the tune changed to a slower ballad.

Leaning against his sturdy chest, you swayed with Joel to the rhythm of the song. But, you could barely hear it over the pounding of your heart. You barely even heard when Joel said something to you, or said your name when you didn’t respond.

“What?” you blinked as you focused your eyes.

“I said them desserts seem to be a hit,” Joel repeated himself as he adjusted his grip on your body.

“Yeah,” you replied, “Even those messy looking ones,” you smirked.

“Hey you promised,” he quipped back with no malice in his tone and a soft grin on his face.

“I know, I know,” you laughed softly, “I’m sorry. They still taste good though.”

“They do,” Joel’s tone dropped, as did his gaze.

“Joel…” you breathed as you felt the burning heat of his gaze on you.

“Listen, I uhhh,” he murmured your name in a low tone, “I wanna kiss you so fuckin’ bad right now,” the moan you let out went right to Joel’s cock, “But I don’t wanna share ya with all these people.”

Another moan escaped your lips and time felt frozen around you and heat rose from your pussy all throughout your body, “Joel…” you whined his name again as desperation took over you.

Joel leaned in closer to you, his lips hovering over yours as the slow sway of your bodies slowed down. He wanted to kiss you so badly. He wanted this for so long. But, Joel was also secretly a romantic, and he didn’t want his first kiss with you to be witnessed. He wanted to selfishly keep that to himself. So, instead of closing the gap, he murmured in a low tone, “Wanna get out of here?”

“Yes,” you breathed immediately as you pulled away enough to look into his eyes. You gasped softly when you saw the deep need that burned behind his eyes, and you knew exactly what he was thinking. “Let’s go, Joel.” you slipped your hand into his and let him lead you out the door and away from the party and wandering eyes.

From the other side of the room, Ellie grinned widely as she watched the two of you slip away from the party.

The moment the door to Joel’s house closed, it was like a flip switched in his head. “Can I kiss you now, baby?” he asked in a low tone as he backed you up against the door.

“You better,” you smirked back as you grabbed his collar, “And call me that again,” you groaned as you bucked your hips against his.

Joel grunted as he grinned against your cheek, “Baby…” his low grumble went right to your core as he took your lips with his in a heated kiss.

His beard tickled your skin as his lips warmed yours. Joel’s strong hands gripped you tightly as he pulled you against his body. You clung to his shirt as his kiss warmed you from the inside while his chest warmed your own as you felt yourself pressed flush against him. Despite the dizzying feeling in your head, you knew you were safe in his arms and that Joel wouldn’t let you fall.

“Shall we take this to the bedroom?” you purred against his lips between kisses.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Joel smirked back.

You erupted into giggles as Joel yanked you enthusiastically down the hall. Hands roamed all over each other’s bodies as you each tugged at the other’s clothing. Joel closed the gap between your lips over and over again, desperately kissing you between shoving clothes off.

A trail of clothing led the way to Joel’s room until neither of you had anything on. You felt like you were in a whirlwind as you allowed Joel to guide you though his house until your legs hit the edge of his bed. A gasp escaped your lips as you realized where you were, but you quickly gathered yourself. Grabbing his broad shoulders, you flung yourself back onto his bed, both of you exhaling sharply as you landed with Joel on top of you.

“Shit, baby,” Joel muttered as he took a moment to study your naked figure beneath him, “You’re so fuckin’ pretty.”

“So are you, Joel,” you breathed as you cupped his face, burying your hands in his hair.

Joel let out another sharp breath, “Well don’t you know how to make a man feel special?”

“Just like you know how to treat a lady,” you smirked back.

“Oh you ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” Joel’s tone dropped as he dipped his head down and took your lips once more. He swallowed the moan you let out and bucked his hips against yours, relishing the feeling on your skin against his after so many nights imagining this.

Joel broke away from the kiss to make his way down your neck, licking and nibbling your sensitive skin along the way. Your mouth dropped open as your mind swam in the pleasure that was Joel’s kisses. But, the sensations only heightened when he reached your breast and wrapped his lips around your nipple.

The cry you let out went right to Joel’s cock, and every moan from you only made him need you more. Joel’s tongue swirled around your nipple as he kneaded your other breast with his calloused hand. You arched your back to allow him more access to your body and buried your hand in his hair, tugging slightly every time he sucked at your nipple just a little bit harder.

“Joel… Fuck…” you whined as he kissed his way to your other breast with a low groan and gave it the same treatment.

He hummed against your skin, rocking his hips against your already soaking wet pussy as he showered you with devotion. As much as Joel wanted to take his time and savor the moment, savor you, his need was too great.

“Shit baby,” Joel breathed as he kissed his way down the front of your body, “You taste to fuckin’ good,” he growled as he eyed your pussy and settled between your parted legs, “But I bet your pussy tastes even better.”

Before you could laugh at his antics, or even appreciate his humor, Joel’s tongue swirled around your clit and licked up and down your folds, shoving every other thought from your body. You cried out in pleasure as your body already trembled under his touch.

“Fuck!” you screamed as you gripped the sheets tightly.

“Fuck me, you do taste good, baby,” Joel groaned as he came up for air for a moment before he dove back into you.

You cried out even louder as you moved your hands to his shoulders for support. Joel growled into you as he hiked one of your legs over his shoulder, opening your body up to him more. Tears filled your eyes as his tongue hit your clit perfectly, and you knew you weren’t going to last.

Especially then Joel pushed two tick fingers inside of you while his tongue contoured tracing patterns on your clit.

“Joel! Fuck!” you screamed, “Yes!”

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” he murmured, his lips hovering over your pussy just for a moment.

“Yes, Joel,” you whimpered, “You’re gonna make he cum if you keep doing that,” your hips bucked on their own as his fingers pumped in and out of you in a steady rhythm.

“Good,” he grinned before he covered your cunt with his lips once more and sucked harder.

The moans you let out echoed in the room as you felt your climax quickly build. Your core tightened as you gasped when his fingers hit that sweet spot inside of you. And before you could warn him, you came hard into Joel’s mouth. You gushed as your body felt like it was floating in the pleasure Joel gave you and you screamed his name loudly as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your body.

Joel kept going until he heard you whimper, determined to pull every punch of your claim from you and lap up every drop of your release. When he finally broke away, both of you gasped loudly. You flopped down flat, limp from exhaustion, and Joel sat up to admire how beautiful you looked.

“Shit, baby,” Joel groaned, “That was better than them cakes.”

You blinked your eyes open and met Joel’s gaze. The two of you froze for a moment before you burst into laughter, “I never knew you were so funny, Joel.”

He leaned forward, covering your body with his own, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, sugar,” he hummed in amusement as his lips hovered over yours.

“Then I want to learn them all,” you whispered against his lips.

“Me too, baby,” he murmured before he took your lips in a slow kiss.

You moaned into his mouth as you wrapped your arms and legs around him, “Joel,” you breathed, “I need you to fuck me now.”

“Yes ma’am,” he replied with a huff as he positioned himself at your entrance.

Both of you gasped as the tip of his cock poked at your pussy. Joel broke away just enough to watch your face as he slowly started to push in, feeling the warmth of your wetness around him. Your eyes snapped shut as you savored the stretch of his cock as you clawed at his back. Joel tried to keep his own eyes open, not wanting to miss a moment, but you felt too good that he couldn’t help but close them.

Joel mumbled your name as he bottomed out inside you, “Shit you feel so fuckin’ good, sweetehart.”

“Joel…” was all you could say, too lost in the bliss to form any coherent thought.

The bed creaked as Joel started a slow rhythm, rocking himself in and out of you. Once again, your moans filled the room in a beautiful melody as Joel fucked you. Only this time, his own grunts and groans harmonized with yours, creating an all new song.

Heat rose in the room despite the chilly air outside as Joel picked up his pace. Feeling you engulf him made him forget about the ache in his back as he thrust his hips back and forth over and over again. Joel was just as lost in you as you were in him, and he was sure neither of you were going to last much longer.

After so long of wanting you, finally having you almost made Joel cry. He murmured your name over and over again as he mumbled how beautiful you looked on his cock, “So fuckin’ pretty, baby,” he grunted, “Fuck…”

“Fuck… Yes… Joel…” was all you could form as you felt another orgasm quickly approach, “Gonna cum…”

“Show me how pretty you are when you cum on my cock, sweetheart,” he growled as he picked up his pace, his hips slapping against yours as he chased his own climax.

“Fuck!” you screamed as you tightened your grip on Joel and trembled under his body as your second peak hit.

“That’s it baby,” Joel groaned, “That’s my girl,” he gasped as he felt your inner muscles squeeze him tightly.

Your climax triggered his own and with a moan of your name, Joel spilled himself deep inside of you, filling you to the brim. Chills ran up your spine as you felt him cum in you, and you moaned softly as the aftershocks of your own climax pulsed through your body at the same time.

Joel kept his pace as long as he could until he pulled back once last time, pulling out of you, before he collapsed on the bed next to you. You gasped as you felt a sudden emptiness, but Joel immediately wrapped you in his arms and pulled you close.

No words were spoken as the two of you came down from your highs. But this time, it was a comforting silence in the air. The tension from the day before was gone now that the two of you finally showed your true feelings for the other. Joel breathed deeply as he stroked you back comfortingly, and you smiled against his chest as you felt the beat of his heart.

You stayed like that for some time before you broke the silence, “Hey Joel,” you wriggled out of his embrace and straddled him, “Can I ask you something?”

“Shit, lookin’ like that you can have anything you want, baby,” Joel joked as he admired your naked form on top of him.

You grinned back at him as you rested your hands on his chest, “Will you be my Valentine?”

Joel’s face lit up as he grabbed you and yanked you down, crashing your lips together, “Always, baby,” he murmured between kisses. When you broke away for air, Joel gazed lovingly up at you, “Now why don’t you show me how pretty you are when you ride me?”

The moan you let out went right to both of your cores and it began a second sleepless night in a row for you and Joel. But, neither of you would complain at all.

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watermelonlovershigh · 5 months

Text

A Chilly Nights Sleep ❄🛌 /blurb/

AN: i wanted to write something that had to do with the weather getting cooler outside so i came up with this little blurb. i hope you enjoyyyyy!!!!! please remember to leave your feedback. much appreciation.

This story contains: pure fluff

{ youngish dadrry - husbandrry - soft!harry - dunkirk harry era - Masie-(May-z-e) }

word count- 703

Your daughter Maise wakes up to her room being cold and decides she wants to finish her night of sleep in-between her parents so they can keep her warm.

It's currently three in the morning on November 2nd and little miss Maise just woke up in her big girl bed, shivering from the cold. Maise is your four year old daughter and for the most part has no issue sleeping in her own room which is just down the hall from yours and Harry's bedroom. Unless she's sick or had a bad dream she'll usually stay put in her room until the morning sun peeks through her curtains and wakes her up. But now, her issue is that she's cold.

Of course Maise has blankets on her bed but the air around her is fridged. So the only logical thing to do in her four year old mind is go in her parents room to wake them up and ask to sleep in their bed.

Maise climbs out of her big girl bed and quickly walks down the hall into the room you and Harry are fast asleep in. Harry's on his tummy with his face facing the outer edge of the bed and you're cuddled up to his right side. You both somehow stay asleep when your daughter opens and closes your bedroom door and it isn't until her tiny hands come to gently pat Harry's face that one of you arouse from your sleep.

Grumbling, Harry can vaguely feel something touch his face. Then once he comes to a bit more, he realizes its his four year old daughter. That has him quickly sitting up in bed, now in dad mode. Worried something had happened. "What? What is'it, baby? Somethin' the matter? Are you sick?" He's really just rambling at this point which is something Harry does when he starts to worry.

Though it's pretty dark in the bedroom, there's just enough light from the street lights outside the window for her to look up at her father and shake her head no while answering, "No daddy. My room got cold and I wanted to sleep with you and mummy. So you could keep me warm." All the stress leaves Harry's body and his heart expands twice its size.

Reaching down, Harry scoops Maise up from under her armpits and lifts her in his lap. "Course you can, my little love. We'll keep you nice and warm." She leans forward to embrace her daddy in a hug which he takes a moment to hug her back. But then it's time to lay back down and go to sleep so he helps situate her in the middle of the bed and lays down again himself.

Maise quickly scoots over to give you a cuddle. You somehow stayed asleep through all the comotion. You are a pretty deep sleeper. But once you feel the familiar embrace, you flutter your eyes open and see your daughter now in bed with you. "Hi, baby," you croak out, "what'r you doing in our bed, hm?"

Keeping her voice in a whisper, your daughter says, "My room was too cold and daddy said I could sleep here so you both could keep me warm." Just like Harry's, your heart nearly explodes from how much love you have for this little girl beside you. The little girl you created with the love of your life.

Looking over her small body, you see Harry looking at the both of you, a sleepy smile on his face, and reply, "We will keep her warm, won't we, Harry?"

Harry scoots over as close as possible towards the middle of the bed so that you both are nearly squashing Maise between your heated bodies. He leans down to kiss the back of her head and then leans over to peck your lips. "Mhm hm, keep her all nice and toasty, we will. Can't have our little girl gettin' cold on us. That'd be a shame."

All the sudden Maise lets out a loud, "Shushhh!" followed by her muttering, "Sleepin' now. Quiet, mummy an' daddy." Harry and you just giggle at her sassy attitude and fall back on your individual pillows to actually get some sleep again. For the remainder of the night, you and Harry keep your daughter between your bodies to make sure she stays warm and never gets cold.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @itfeelslikemytherapisthatesme // @damnasstyles // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet // @meetmyblondemuffins // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles // @skyangel57 // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss // @kissmyaxe140 // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom // @swiftmendeshoran

// @luv-flor7777 // @alohastyles-x // @tenaciousperfectionunknown // @sleutherclaw // @siredtohybrid // @whoscamila // @a-strange-familiar // @golden-elodie // @mrspeacem1nusone // @goldenkhae // @lntwithhrry // @shadowygladiatorlight // @manifestrry //@mendesblurb // @sunshinemoonsposts // @depersonalizationsucks // @academiaghost // @zendayassimp // @reveriehs // @vsnnstuff // @dancinsunflowerkiwi // @quinnsgrapejuice // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @justlemmeholdyou // @hsonlyangelxo // @luvonstyles // @howdey

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My Masterlist Masterpost

#harry styles #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fluff #fluff #fan ftiction #dadrry #dad!harry #husbandrry #husband!harry #softrry #soft!harry #youngdad!harry #harry styles fic rec #harry styles blurb #blurb #blurbs

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die4swag · 5 months

Text

something to bond over

pairing: ellie williams x reader, abby anderson x reader

warnings: dom!ellie&abby, threesome, strap on sex, brief spanking, oral, fingering, orgasm denial

u don’t know how u ended up in this situation.

ellie grunting and drilling her cock into ur twitching hole, her bangs sticking to her forehead due to all the sweat. abby held u nice and steady, ur head on her stomach as she watches what ellie is doing, waiting for her turn with ur poor body.

u may not memorise how it started, but u do remember what u were doing before this. or u would if u weren’t so fucked out. anyway, lemme remind u.

if u knew nothing, there was at least one thing u were sure of. abby and ellie could not stand each other. and it wasn’t only u who was aware of it, all of ur mutual friends knew, as each and every one of them rolled their eyes whenever they started bickering.

it was a cold night, the chilly autumn air slowly morphing into a cold, bitter winter one. u invited them over for a movie night, in hopes they would maybe talk it out or make peac- whatever the fuck they had to do to finally stop going at each other’s throats. u were all nestled on ur bed, u in between them, watching- actually, u don’t even remember what u were watching. half the time u were texting the groupchat little updates about how it’s going so far, if they talked or something.

u felt ellie’s hand rubbing ur thigh. u didn’t really pay attention to it, as u were pretty used to her getting touchy when she gets comfortable. on ur right side there was abby, who was glaring at ellie’s hand like a hawk. she also started rubbing ur thigh, going from ur knee up to ur hip and back. u felt their breaths near ur ears. from ur peripheral u saw abby smirk at… ellie? what kind of a fucking fever dream was this? why are these bitches smiling at eachother? no, yeah time to call the cops, murder is about to happ-

“what’s wrong, pretty? gettin’ a little red there, aren’t we?” ellie whispers. her raspy voice sends a shiver down to ur cunt “oh what, do u not like it when we touch ur thighs? we can stop if u want” abby says. all u do is shake ur head frantically, too turned on to care about anything else. ellie grabs ur hand, guiding it to her crotch. u feel something hard and thic- yeah no lemme stop with this goofy ass shit, it’s her strap wohoo what a fucking surprise. u look down at ur thighs, abby’s hand still resting there. she only moves it away to toy with the hem of ur oversized shirt that u wore for the movie night. y’know, to be comfy. she whispers into ur ear again, “can i take this off, baby?” and u don’t even wait for her to do it as u pull the shirt off. ellie smirks, eyeing ur body as u were not wearing a bra. she pushed u to lay down, pressing kisses to ur neck as abby kisses ur collarbone, all the way down ur chest. they start ridding u of the rest of ur clothes until u are completely naked. ellie’s eyes hungrily gaze at ur dripping pussy. “can i?” she asks, laying between ur thighs. u just nod, which earns ur ass a slap from abby’s firm hand. “fucking answer her question” abby hisses. “y-yes.. fuck, yes ellie to- touch me please” u whine. the words come out pathetic from ur mouth, but it’s enough for ellie to latch her plump lips onto ur clit, harshly sucking. u let out a moan from the sudden feeling. abby positions herself so she is sitting behind u, ur back to her front, or more like ur head to her firm stomach as u are slumping, too weak to sit properly. ellie continues licking all the way from ur hole to ur clit and then back as abby whispers small praises into ur ear and keeps a firm hand on ur tummy to hold u down. as u start getting close, u start pawing at abby’s forearm. ellie’s eyes shoot up and when she notices this, her mouth leaves ur cunt, licking ur juices off her lips. u gasp and buck ur hips to desperately search for friction, but no avail as abby keeps ur lower half pinned with just her hand. ellie smirks, shoving her sweatpants down to pull out her cock. u eyed the purple toy, as if it were to attack u. u look up at abby desperately, but she only coos and kisses ur forehead “u can take it baby, can’t u?” she gently says. ellie aligns her cock with ur hole “y’ready baby?”. u nod, but then immediately correct urself, not wanting another slap on the ass “y-yes ellie” u mewl weakly. her cock slides in, slow and steady. u let out a moan from the back of ur throat at the burn of the stretch. when she stuffs her full length in, she finally starts moving, slow and calculated at first, but animalistic a second later. u are a moaning mess, being held down by abby and stuffed by ellie. u claw at abby’s forearm yet again, tears rolling down ur cheeks from all the pleasure. ellie’s movements don’t cease, she continues grunting like a bitch in heat, drilling her dick into u. abby scoffs, grabbing ur limp body under the armpits and lifting u up so ur head lays on her broad chest. “can u fuckin’ slow down with her? i want my turn too, williams.” the name rolls off bitter from her tongue. but ellie doesn’t stop, fucking u even harder if it’s even possible. “a-ahh.. fuu— mmphhnn!” is all that can come out of ur mouth at the moment. ellie notices it all, the way ur eyes roll back, ur hands pawing at abby’s forearm, ur moans getting more high pitched. u are getting close again. ellie stops. u whine, trying to move ur hips into her cock more but abby doesn’t let u. ellie pulls out, petting ur cheek and kissing the pout off ur pretty lips. she nods at abby, switching places with her as abby settles between ur thighs, immediately latching her mouth onto ur cunt, as ellie sits behind u, rubbing ur tummy. “oh—nnn” incoherent babbles leave ur lips again as abby’s tongue works on ur cunt. her thick fingers join, thrusting into ur sopping hole. suddenly, ellie whispers into ur ear “cmon baby, tell me, who fucks u better? me or abby? hmm” u can’t even answer. u let out a pathetic moan, bucking ur hips into abby’s mouth.

abby’s lips leave ur cunt “oh baby. am i not the one who gets u there faster?” she says before latching her mouth onto ur cunt again. u squirm, moan and buck ur hips, wanting the release so bad. ellie whispers into ur ear “cmon baby, let it go. cum for me and abby” and so u do.

#ellie williams x reader #abby anderson x reader #ellie williams #abby anderson #abby anderson smut #ellie williams smut #ellie x reader #tlou2 #wlw #wlw smut #tlou smut #my work

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jobean12-blog · 2 months

Text

In It for the Long Ride

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader (Biker!Joel AU)

Word Count: 1,656

Summary: Joel is out for the night and when he returns early and wants you to leave work and come home you know something isn't right.

Author's Note: Just because I love him and missed him and this seems like something that could really happen when you're with a biker. PS our sweet little black kitten Ink is here too- she's getting big and just loves Joel of course! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: soft and sweet fluff, little angst sprinkled in here and there, mentions of blood but very light

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

“Joel just text me that he’s here.”

You look at your friend Jade with worried eyes.

“What’s wrong? Isn’t he going to come in?” she asks.

“He said he can’t come in. He wants to know if I can leave now.”

“Of course you can babe,” Jade says quickly. “Dan and I will be fine tonight.”

“Are you sure…I don’t know what’s goin…”

“Don’t worry,” Jade assures you. “Just go to him. I’m sure everything is fine.”

You nod with a hard swallow and rush to the back to gather your things, texting Joel as you go that you’ll be right out.

Your legs are slightly shaky as you approach the door, a feeling of dread weighing you down with each step.

At first you don’t see him but then you hear the rev of his engine and your gaze is drawn to his bike. He’s parked across the street with his headlights off.

“Joel?” you question when you reach his bike.

He holds his arms out for you and you rush into them, burying your face in his neck.

“What’s going on?” you mumble into his skin.

“Let’s go home,” he says quietly.

You pull back to look at him and let out a gasp.

“Oh my god, what happened? Are you ok?”

“I’m fine darlin.’ Really I am. Just need a little help gettin’ cleaned up.”

Your eyes instantly well with tears and you lift your finger to gently brush it across his bruised cheek.

“Aw angel, no tears. I promise it’s nothin’.”

“But Joel…you’re bleeding and bruised…”

The tears roll down your cheeks, hot and wet, and his hands cup your face, thumbs sweeping across your skin to wipe them away.

“Are you ok to drive? Should we take the car? Do you need a doctor?”

Your questions come out in a rush and your voice is high pitched with worry.

He shakes his head no and the side of his mouth twitches with a smile.

“No. Just need you.”

You study him, your eyes lingering on his face until you whisper, “ok, let’s go home.”

He takes his helmet from the handlebars and secures it on your head before unzipping his leather jacket and draping it over your shoulders.

“Let’s zip this up. It’s chilly tonight,” he says.

“Shouldn’t I be taking care of you?”

“You always do darlin’.”

He kisses you softly on the side of the mouth and then helps you onto the back of his bike.

The ride home is short, less than ten minutes, but in that time the wind picks up and sky opens up with rain.

As you near the house the headlights from his bike reflect off the growing puddles on the street and you shiver against his back.

He pulls over and kills the engine, holding out his hand for you to hop off. He tucks you protectively under his arm and walks you to the door.

“I hope you didn’t get too wet angel,” he says.

“I’m fine,” you say as you walk in and turn on the light.

You turn to him and fresh tears fill your eyes.

“Let me just get us towels and the first aid kit. Don’t move.”

You rush off to the bathroom just as Ink hops off the ledge of the front window. She meows at Joel and then starts to rub between his legs.

“Hey, you,” he says as he picks up the small black cat.

Her tiny pink nose delicately explores his chin before she reaches up with a paw and softly presses it to his cheek.

“Don’t be worried like your mama. I’m fine,” he tells the cat.

“She knows you’re hurt,” you say when you return and find the two of them standing by the door staring at each other.

You take his free hand and walk him toward the couch.

“You might have to set her down for a minute. I want to get your wet shirt off.”

He puts the cat down on the couch and then grabs the hem of his shirt.

“Wait,” you say quietly. “Let me. Please.”

He drops the material and looks at you with big brown eyes.

“Ok angel. Whatever you want.”

“Lift your arms,” you instruct him as you start to peel his shirt up and off.

Inch by inch his wet skin is revealed, his tattoos along with it and you find yourself inspecting every inch of him for more injuries before gently pressing the towel to his chest. You do nothing to hide your shameless perusal of him and he’s clearly enjoying it, his eyes sparkling and his lips turned up into a boyish smirk.

“Anything else hurt?”

“Nah, but you can keep checkin’ all ya want.”

He winks at you when you look up at him with narrowed eyes.

“Ok sit and tell me what happened.”

He sits with a plop and extends his arm to pet Ink while you start to work off his boots.

“I can do that angel, it’s no…”

When your eyes meet his he clamps his mouth shut, only opening it again to explain that some out of town biker gang had started some trouble with him and the boys. No of the boys were hurt more than some bumps, scrapes and bruises but the other guys weren’t as lucky.

“Thank goodness it wasn’t any worse,” you sigh. “I got so scared when you said you wanted me to come home and all. I figured you would come in and have a drink…”

“I know darlin.’ I’m sorry I scared you. I knew I couldn’t go in the bar lookin’ like this though.”

“It’s ok. Just promise me you’ll always be careful.”

“Always,” he whispers.

After you have his boots off and dry socks on you stand and straddle his lap, settling your knees on either side of his waist and taking a smaller towel to run through his hair.

You then comb your fingers through the wet strands and give it a slicked back style. He raises a brow when you smirk and drag your teeth over your bottom lip.

“What?” he asks.

“Looks really good.”

“Yeah angel? Even with the blood?”

“Somehow it makes it even hotter…but I’m still so upset you’re hurt.”

“I’m ok.”

“You keep saying that.”

“But I am darlin.’ Honestly, couldn’t be better at the moment.”

His hands slide along your thighs and then settle on your waist. He pulls you closer and runs his nose along the column of you neck to breathe you in.

“Don’t you dare,” you gasp. “I have to patch you up first.”

“Mm hm,” he murmurs as his lips press to your skin and his fingers dance higher.

You flatten your palms on his chest and give him a light shove, giggling when he looks at you with pouty lips.

After a soft kiss you get the first aid kit and start to clean the cut above his eye and the one on his lip. When you press the antiseptic to the wound he winces, leaving his eyes closed as you continue to carefully wipe each spot.

You inspect every area of his face, especially focusing on the skin beneath his beard, lovingly caressing the gray spots as you go. He relaxes into your touch and you let your fingers gently trace his features.

“All clean,” you whisper.

You hand him the small ice pack you got from the freezer. “Hold this on your cheek.”

“But my hands are busy,” he sighs.

His hands graze the skin beneath your shirt, calloused thumbs caressing the softness before they inch higher.

“You only need one hand for this,” you lightly chide.

His eyes pop open and he gives you a stern look. “Fine.”

You bat your lashes at him and wait until he has the ice pack pressed to his cheek.

“Just until I finish up.”

You put medicine on the cut above his eye and one butterfly stitch then clean up the dried blood on his knuckles.

“You must have gotten a pretty good punch in.”

You can see his muscles tense when you press the pad to his bruised knuckles.

“You bet I did angel,” he boasts. “And that’d be plural…punches.”

When you meet his eyes he winks again and throws you a smug grin.

You kiss it right off his lips then smudge some medicine on his knuckles. He immediately puts down the ice pack and places his hands back on your body.

“That could probably stay on a bit longer,” you tsk.

“Later,” he murmurs.

Ink walks along the back of the couch and sits herself down right behind Joel. She blinks at you several times then starts to swat at the curls of hair at the back of his neck.

“She likes them almost as much as I do,” you tease.

“She’s just wantin’ attention,” he grumbles. “Gets that from you too.”

You shoot him an incredulous glare and then give him one more once over.

“Think I did a pretty good job,” you state.

“I feel brand new,” he says as he drags you closer and smooths his hands along the curve of your back.

When your lips meet you’re mindful of his cut but he doesn’t seem to care at all and dances one hand higher until he grabs the back of your neck and kisses you harder.

He moans into your mouth and tugs at the hem of your shirt. Your hands delve into his damp hair and then slide down to his shoulders. His bare skin is warm and when you feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingers you ease away and battle with the reminder of what happened, your eyes glassy.

His large hand cradles your cheek and he smooths his nose along your jaw, bringing his lips to your ear.

“Darlin’,” he coos. “It’s all right. I’m fine…let me prove it to you.”

@hiddles-rose @lorilane33 @littleseasiren @blackwidownat2814 @kmc1989

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #biker!joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #biker!joel x reader #biker!joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #pedro pascal #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x female reader #biker au

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laangdonn · 4 months

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not anymore pt2

summary: y/n tries growing in her grief at hilltop.

pairing: carl grimes x female reader

a/n: ya’llllllll thank you so much for loving the first part!!! i’d actually written pt1 a year ago and never rlly planned to ever make a pt2 but ask and you shall receive lolol, hope you like!!

*read part 1 here*

*************************

“todays the day rick n carl should be gettin here,” maggie said, sending a spoon with tomato soup into her mouth, “you ready to see him?”

i released a shaky breath, playing with my own bowl of food as my starved appetite vanished. i stared at the red, swirling liquid. “i don’t know.”

“a month wasn’t enough time apart?” she asked, eyeing me cautiously.

i hadn’t wanted to repeat myself, but i had no other answer. “i- i don’t know.”

it hadnt seemed like a month apart. i would’ve sworn it had been yesterday i walked out of alexandria alone, two duffel bags in my hand and a gun, ready to fend off anything or anyone that crossed my path.

but it had been a month, the longest we’d ever been apart. and i missed him more than anything.

it still didn’t shake my hesitancy, my worry that the moment we spend time alone we’ll go back to disagreements and fighting and perhaps, i’d never go back to alexandria again. and that’ll be the end of us. till one of dies and the other is forced to reconcile the fact that we’d never made up.

it scared me to see him. to see death again.

“well,” maggie swallowed again, her short hair bristling in the chilly air from the open window, “i think when you see him, that’s when you’ll really know.”

i nodded slowly, my eyes still trained on my soup.

she stood up out of the chair, “i need to find greg, talk to him ‘bout a few things.” she eyed me again, noticing my static, unmoving position. “you’ll be alright while i’m gone?”

i looked up at her then, not wanting her to worry, “i’ll be fine, mags.”

she gave me a small, reassuring smile and a kiss on the crown of my head before she went off, and i was left in my thoughts.

luckily, maggie’s trailer provided a lot of privacy, and knowing the tenants at hilltop, i wouldn’t be disturbed.

i stared off to a chip in the paint, thinking.

——

“i can come with you.”

“carl-“

“why can’t i just take you to hilltop and leave?”

“because, carl, don’t-“

“it’s dangerous, y/n, and reckless-“

“carl-“

“and stupid-“

“would you stop interrupting me!”

he went quiet then, his burly arms crossed over his flannel chest, eye staring daggers into my figure.

we stood by the door to our house, two duffel bags leaning against the wall i so desperately wanted to pick up and run out.

i knew despite him saying he wouldn’t stop me going, it wouldn’t eliminate the imminent last ditch effort fight from occurring.

“you told me you’d let me go.” i said slowly, as if reprimanding a child, “don’t go back on your word.”

he rolled his eyes, “god forbid i don’t want you out there by yourself! have my dad take you for fucks sake just don’t-“ he pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling stressfully, “don’t go by yourself.”

“i can take care of myself, carl.” i spat, feeling anger surge through me at his distrust in me. “i’ve survived this long.”

“you never know what can happen out there.” he threw his hands up, “or here! yesterday, that dick’s gun was to your head in this fucking room!”

i felt his rage, i voiced his yells. it made my head spiral that i were still trapped in alexandria, suffocating in this broken reflection of my relationship that could barely withstand some independence.

but, bringing myself to reality, i also knew his fear, knew the dread at the unknown. knew the loss he was experiencing even while i was still standing in front of him, alive and breathing.

i shuddered out a breath, walking over to him to put my hands sturdily on his shoulders.

i looked up at him, watching his anger dissipate when we locked eyes.

“i know you’re scared for me,” i said softly, talking quickly before he’d have a chance, “but i need you to trust me.”

“y/n-“

“no,” i put my finger to his soft lips, “let me finish.”

i brought my hand down, his eye watching my finger fall from his flesh.

“i’ll send a letter the second i get to hilltop, so you know i’m safe,” i swallowed, “i’ll have my gun loaded and extra ammo, anything i could scavenge up from the armory.”

his eyebrow relaxed, listening to me talk.

“this is what we’re made for now,” i shook him a bit and sent him a weary smile to ease his tension, “we’re made to do these things on our own.”

he exhaled shakily, nodding to fool himself into thinking he’d allow this, that he’d watch me walk away from him into trees of undead and alive.

i leaned up to his face, our noses brushing every so slightly. my heart boomed in my chest, beating so hard i swore he could hear it himself. maybe it was both of our hearts, desperate to intertwine again.

“do you trust me?” i whispered softly, so our lips grazed.

i heard him swallow, and the breath from his nose fan my face.

“yeah,”

i pulled back at that, knowing if we kissed, for the first time since…, i knew i’d lose the battle to my heart and stay.

i grabbed the two duffel bags and locked my palm around the doorknob.

looking over my shoulder, i sent a reassuring smile, “i’ll see you when we’re okay.”

he didn’t respond, and while it sent a jolt to my gut of disappointment and guilt, i turned back and opened the door.

“y/n,” i heard him say, just as i left.

i barely looked over my shoulder.

“i love you.”

i bit my lip, finally, tears stinging the corners of my eyes.

“i love you, too.”

and the door shut.

——

crossing the lines to hilltop and realizing who i’d be seeing almost sent me running the other direction.

fear of maggie’s state of being gave me a headache as i drew closer to the entrance, and once i was close enough in view, could see her faint outline on a lookout post illuminated by the bright sun behind her.

i knew she saw me when i heard a voice scream my name.

she disappeared from the post and soon the large, wooden doors opened. i ran the rest of the way, dropping my bags and falling tiredly into her expectant arms.

as much as i told myself i’d stay strong for her, the smell of her hair and the memories of that night came sweeping back and i sobbed, wet and noisily, into her chest that shook with her own cries.

i didn’t realize we’d fallen to the floor till i felt my exposed knees sting from skimming the rough dirt.

“what-“ she sniffled, a sob breaking through her, “what are you doing here?”

i took a shaky breath in, trying to compose myself, “i came to see you.”

she frowned, burying her face back into my shoulder.

we cried a few more moments, let ourselves drown in glenn’s absence, in front of all the onlookers who just watched silently.

i pulled back, dread creeping into my stomach when i looked at maggie’s

“the-“ i swallowed, “the baby-“

“fine,” she answered quickly, stroking tears off my cheeks and sending me a faint smile, “just fine.”

i breathed a sigh of relief, nodding at the scarce good news before standing and helping her up, too.

she looked healthier than the last time i saw her, fatter in her face and her arms. her stomach barely bulged as a reminder a part of glenn resided there.

behind her i saw sasha standing, her arms folded. even from far away, i could tell she just looked even worse, instead of better.

i sent her my best sympathetic smile, receiving one back but knowing deep down, it was just another lie to comfort me.

i looked to maggie, gripping her forearms, “take me to him.”

seeing glenn’s grave, surprisingly, comforted me more than disturbed me. to know we had him, safe under dirt and bugs, but still, safe. better than laying out in the gravel, for prying, evil eyes to view him.

he was returned back to us in less than one piece, but his soul was whole with us.

i held maggie’s hand as we looked down, a few flowers resting over the raised patch of dirt.

i swallowed harshly, “what would he think now?”

“of what?” she asked softly, our eyes never wavering from the ground.

“of carl and i. of what’s been destroyed.”

i felt her squeeze my hand, “you and carl aren’t destroyed.”

i shook my head, feeling tears blur my vision and my nose sting.

she continued, “you’re right for the time apart, to grieve separately if that’s what you need.”

“is it enough?” i asked brokenly, finally looking at her.

she gestured our intertwined hands to glenn’s grave.

“ask him.”

and so i did.

i spoke to glenn’s grave everyday. sometimes scattered stories of our memories, from the prison, from on the road. sometimes i cried so hard i couldn’t breathe under the empty dusk, sometimes i laughed so hard my stomach hurt. sometimes i sat in silence.

but mostly i talked about carl.

——

if i stared hard enough at that paint chip, i could’ve sworn the wall tore a bit more right before my eyes.

i knew who i had to see, to remind me this absence was for something, that i’d grown in my grief.

my feet carried me to his grave, hidden away behind maggie’s trailer. i sat down comfortably in front of it, hugging my knees to my chest.

“are we okay?” i whispered to the air. “will i see you in him?”

“was all of this for nothing? will it always be this way, glenn?” i wiped my hand over my nose.

i let out a shaky breath at the thought, “can we overcome this?”

“yes.”

my head whipped around, and i saw carl, standing with his arms at his sides, tears filling up his ocean eye.

it gave me whiplash how fast i stood up and launched myself into his unexpecting arms. they rested limp for a moment, but quickly moved to hug my torso tightly, lifting my feet slightly off the grass as i wedged my head between his neck.

we pulled back slightly to stare at each other, and i searched his face for the blood, for the black line, for the axe.

i smiled softly when i realized all i saw were glenn’s memories.

happy memories, of the hot days at the prison when we sweat so hard playing tag, of playing a dusty board game in alexandria the first night when we were too hesitant to sleep, of watching his love with maggie and seeing it reflected in carl and i.

“why’re you smiling?” he whispered, his own face pulling to reveal a grin. he knew.

i leaned in closer, tipping his sheriffs hat up so our noses could brush.

“because i don’t see it, not anymore.” i finally let our lips touch, a kiss that sent flames bursting in my stomach and my fingers to shake with anticipation.

he leaned into the kiss, and i felt the breath on my face at his sigh of relief.

i knew he knew what i meant when i saw the tiny twinkle in his eyes reappear looking at me, knowing he felt the same.

i pulled back ever too quickly, evident in how he leaned in again.

but before i gave him the chance to kiss me again, i let my smile burst through.

we all had a long way to go, people to kill and more people to lose, but in this moment, right in this moment:

“i see you now.” i said.

and that was enough.

#carl grimes angst #carl grimes #carl grimes imagine #carl grimes fluff #twd #the walking dead #maggie greene #maggie rhee #twd angst #glenn rhee #carl grimes one shot #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes x fem!reader #twd season 7 #twd carl

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bimbobaggins69 · 3 months

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𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞.

⋆ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 (readers nickname is goldie)

the air in the maroon bmw is thick, an indescribable tension that has been building for what seems like weeks now. You continue to play with the hem of your floral dress as the car rolls along, heading to a surprise location per your best friend’s words. The grassy fields zip past you as your hair whips from the chilly spring breeze.

“We’re gettin close. I promise Goldie, you’re gonna love it.” Steve says with a beaming smile on his pretty face.

“You know how much I hate surprises, Stevie.” You can’t hold back the grin that graces your face as Steve begins to sing along to crush on you by the jets, over your words. The off key notes have you giggling before you decide to join in. The two of you a smiling, laughing, terrible singing mess.

After the car karaoke had ended, you’re pulling up to a gravely road, surrounded by the greenest greenery you had ever witnessed. Before you have a chance to ask your best friend where he’d brought you, he’s swiftly grasping your hand in his and pulling you behind him with excitement.

Your breath hitches when you spot a beautiful lake, the pink sky from the sunset mirrors off of the still water creating a beautiful hue that now surrounds you both. Steve doesn’t let go of your hand for a second, he intertwines your fingers making your belly swoop from years of longing. He continues to drag you, your feet working on autopilot as he guides you to a blanket that had already been laid out, sitting only a few feet from the water. As you take in your surroundings and the realization that your best friend had put together a picnic, on the lake, for you.

In all your wondering and curiosity, you hadn’t noticed the bag flung over Steve’s shoulder. He plops down on the blanket before he’s unzipping it and unpacking sandwiches, chips, fruit and drinks; setting them down on the linen in preparation to be eaten. “Sit down, pretty girl.” The pet name is a shock to your heart and possibly to your system as well, because before you know it you’re sitting down on the plush blanket.

“Made your favorite, honey ham with extra mustard.” Steve states proudly, passing you the plastic wrapped sandwich.

In all of the years you and Steve had been friends, he’d never done anything like this for you, and it wasn’t your birthday or some special day where you passed an important exam. So you couldn’t get a good read on why your best friend had brought you to one of the most romantic places you’d ever been. It was too out of character.

You unwrap your sandwich as your eyes never leave Steve, he takes a bite of his food and sets it down before rubbing both palms on his jeans. You knew that was a nervous tick of his so the questions continued to rack up in your mind as nothing seemed to make sense.

“Steve, what’s going on?” You gauge his face, before scooting in closer towards him; feeling as though you needed to be as close to him as possible for this conversation.

“I um, I wanted to eat and hang out a little bit before I did this, but I just can’t focus on anything else, so…” he murmurs as he rubs a hand through his brown locks.

“Do what, stevie?” You question, as your stomach now alights with a frenzied flutter.

“I- I uh, fuck.” He huffs, his cheeks a cherub pink as he hangs his head in disappointment.

“What is it Steve? Just say it, please.” You practically beg as your voice slightly shakes, every possible negative thought runs through your mind; maybe he doesn’t wanna be friends anymore, so he brought you hear to end your 10+ years of friendship, or maybe he has a new girlfriend he’s serious with and wanted to spend one last weekend with you before he becomes her lap dog, this wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened.

“Goldie, I love you.” His hazel eyes bore into yours as the words fall from his pink lips.

Your eyes water and your heart races from his confession, it’s as if time stops and now you’re the one who can’t seem to form words.

“Y-you, you love me?” You stutter, looking at his face for any trace of a cruel joke; but all you find is a look of pure adoration.

“Yeah, I’m in love with you. I have been for so long, but I guess I just couldn’t keep going without finally making you mine. That is if you want that, too.” He says with a shy smile.

“Steve Harrington, I’ve been in love with you since I was six and you told me that eating a watermelon seed would make a tree grow in my belly, and the only way for me to stop it was by kissing you.” You both chuckle at the far away memory.

“Yeah, I was real smooth with that one,” he scoffs at his younger self. “Why’d you even believe that?”

“I didn’t, I just wanted you to kiss you.” You tuck your legs behind you before propping yourself up on your knees and moving in towards him. “You think if I eat one of these cherries and just so happen to accidentally swallow the seed, you’ll kiss me?” You say with a cartoonish bat of your lashes.

“Baby, you don’t need any excuses to kiss me anymore.” He insists before pulling you into his lap and kissing you with a greedy passion. “I…love…you.” He says between kisses.

“How about we eat now, sweet girl and then I can hold you in my arms while we watch the sunset?” He asks as he delicately rubs your upper thigh.

“As long as you promise not to let me go.” You say with one more kiss.

“Princess, I’m never letting you go.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ for the lovely nonnie that requested a fluffy blurb <3

#— 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington moodboard #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve stranger things #steve x reader #steve #steve harrington smut

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yuukimiyas · 8 months

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໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა hi!! i'm all nice & cozy from workin a long shift but overall i had a v good day!! & i'm takin all of the extra love from my good day & givin some to each of you for a good nights rest & an even more amazin tmrw ˚₊‧꒰໒꒰ ´ ˘ ` ꒱ა꒱ ‧₊˚ everybunny have the best night ever <33

#i had a v good hair & makeup day today & wore a pair of my fave tunnels!! they're lil plague dr masks!! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა s'cute for spooky time!#sigh today was the only chilly day we're gonna have for a few wks but its gettin me so so stoked for cooler weather!! ૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა #work went by so v fast bc we were so busy but we did a v good job w everyth!! :3 i'm always so proud of my dept!!#& the blood drive that was at my buildin today left some extra snackies in the break room!! i got some mini oreos & a lil granola bar!!#lots of lil things that made me so happy!! i hope that you all get that same feelin now & forever!! i love you so much!! nighty night!! <33 #ᕱ⑅ᕱ.* journals!

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jezebelletauralene · 6 months

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zosan / sanzo coffee shop au

It's gettin' chilly where I live. time for some sweet seasonal coffee shop au <3

#fanart #my art #one piece #vinsmoke sanji #zoro roronoa #blackleg sanji #zosan #sanzo #zoro x sanji #coffee shop au

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argisthebulwark · 9 months

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One Bed Trope

summary: Oh no, there's only one bed. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. feat: Cicero, Farkas, Vilkas, Tedryn, Mercer, Arnbjorn warnings: none

Cicero is very touchy. As he’s the Keeper you’re no stranger to his touch. It seems his unconscious urge to care for you is strong - nimble fingers untangling your hair and offering blankets to keep you warm. He just wants to help his Listener. Even when he drifts off to sleep he keeps a protective hand on you, needing to be alert if anything happens during the night. “You need your rest, Listener. Loyal Cicero will keep you safe, don’t fret.”

Farkas is quick to share your bedroll when a snowstorm blocks your path home. You taunt him for forgetting his pack while he shimmies into your blankets. Part of you wants to kick him out; the sheer size of him leaves you cramped in your own bed roll, but he’s warm. You succumb to the heat radiating through his thin tunic when he wraps an arm around your waist. He’s somehow just as large without all that armor. “It’s just for survival, right? We might as well make the most of it.”

Vilkas goes silent when the innkeeper informs you there’s only one bed left. You avoid eye contact, following him to the room and Vilkas swiftly offers to sleep on the floor. Your heart’s in your throat when you coax him into the bed, acutely aware of his every movement. Much to your chagrin he vows to keep out of your space. He’s a man of his word - even when you hear him snoring he hardly moves, leaving a mass of blankets between your bodies. After the best night of sleep you can recall, you wake with your head comfortably resting on his chest. You sneak a peek at his face and find a rare, relaxed expression there. “We should keep this to ourselves. If Farkas hears rumors of us sharing a bed he’ll never let us forget it.”

Teldryn is accustomed to roughing it, he assures you he won’t mind sleeping on the couch. He’s surprised when you urge him to join you. Cracking a joke about his old bones he hopes to break the tension. He’s careful to give you space despite your hand creeping across the bed to find his. He’s a light sleeper, waking every time you inch closer to him. He’ll remember to tease you about it in the morning. “I could get used to this, remind me to bribe the next innkeeper we come across to reserve only one bed.”

Mercer threatens to take the entire bed, sneering when he reminds you of the bed roll in your pack. The inn only has one open room and you aren’t making it back to Riften before the storm rolled in. He begrudgingly scoots over when you threaten to kick him off, laughing when you cozy into his side. It’s only hours after you’ve fallen asleep that his gaze softens, unsure fingers brushing some hair off your cheek. “Best keep your hands to yourself. Don't want word gettin’ back to the others about you sleeping with the Guild Master.”

Arnbjorn grumbles at you to keep your distance. Even if there’s only one bed left he isn’t cruel enough to force you to sleep on the floor - not in this weather, anyway. The snowstorm raging outside leaves the room chilly and the stone floors are downright frigid. He’ll never admit to draping an arm around you when he hears the wind whistling outside, nor the way he secretly revels in your hands creeping up his body. "‘Course I won’t let you freeze. Say a word of this to the others and it’ll be the last you speak, got it?”

#skyrim #skyrim fanfic #skyrim x reader #x reader fanfic #writing #cicero #farkas #vilkas #teldryn sero #mercer frey #arnbjorn

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xwritingdixonx · 6 months

Text

To Rot With You | Daryl Dixon |

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Masterlist

Summary: The reader and Daryl take a stroll through the forests, contemplating what it truly means to die. And to do it together. (Purely written based on the Hozier song, In A Week.)

Warnings: mention of death, no use of y/n (yay)

Word Count: aprox. 1.5k

Era: hinted at Alexandria, established relationship

Song Recommendations: In a Week - Hozier

A/n: This is pretty simple and short but hopefully still enjoyable!

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The morning air was fresh, chilly, and slightly damp from the rain that fell throughout the night.

The morning was early. It is too early for any creature to crawl from its sleep and begin withering its way around the forest. Or perhaps it was too wet for any creature to begin their everyday lives, still hiding in the safety and warmth of their enclosures. Or perhaps they were bathing in the fuller ponds and slurping from puddles. Or maybe, they were like you. Drudging through the forest in search of their first meal, the pads of their feet slick with mud.

The moist soil squelched beneath your steps. Wet bits of green grass stuck themselves to the textures of your boots. A layer of mud painted itself to the sole of your shoe, lodging itself into whatever print had been carved there.

Though you didn't own a calendar and probably would never again, you could feel it in the air that Winter was ending and Spring was blossoming. The mornings were still chilly but always sunny, the warmth coming in the later hours of the day. And the rain was frequent but it did not bother you. It softened the frozen ground and plumped the trees and flowers so they could grow full of life and beauty. It provided drinking water and filled the natural water resources with even more water.

Daryl, however, was always bothered. He complained about not having seen a rabbit or a deer on your morning hunt. You poked at him and told him they were still resting like you should be. He complained when he slipped in the mud. And he complained even more when he saw a fox saying, that's the reason we ain't finding no rabbits not because they're gettin' some extra shut-eye.

But he never complained about you. Not a word slipped his lips when you distracted him by holding his hand or standing too close. What was wrong about enjoying the presence of your partner? He had woken you up so early to drag you along, he might as well enjoy you.

When it came time to rest, you set up just on the treeline of a wide field. Wild with uncut grass, weeds, and flowers. The both of you sat on a fallen tree, attempting to avoid the wet ground that would surely ruin your clothes. Daryl had particularly picked this spot to keep an eye on anything wandering into the field for a nibble at the grass.

The sounds of the woods fell upon your ears as silence settled. A slight wind disturbed the greenery. Bending the tall grass, making it dance with the wildflowers. It moved the freshly grown leaves on the branches of the trees, flowing around like hair in the wind. The birds chirped their morning songs and the squirrels scattered from one tree to the next. You liked to joke and say they were hiding from Daryl. And truthfully, you couldn't blame them. You also had no desire to be shot with an arrow, skinned, and then thrown on a grill or tossed into a soup.

"Ya alright?" Daryl broke you from your daydreams, his voice gentle and smooth. You turned to catch his gaze, replying with a gentle, “Yeah.” Followed by a reassuring smile. His hand reached for yours, pulling it to rest in his own. You were already at peace in the sounds and scenes of nature but his touch calmed you in places you didn't even know were tense. Every moment you were able to bask in the love you felt for him, you cherished.

Waking up beside him, falling asleep beside him, showering with him. There was nothing you wanted to do without him by your side. And that included death. You had thought about it...many times. How could you not in a world like this? Death was always right around the corner; peeking, creeping, and waiting. You and Daryl had had your fair share of scares over the years and those thoughts haunted your mind every time. How could you go on without him? How could you fight every day if the thing you're fighting to go home to, is no longer there?

Daryl had the same gloomy thoughts. Losing you was, as clique as it sounds, his worst nightmare. He ran from the thoughts as much as his legs would let him but eventually his legs wore out and it caught up to him in the worst of times. When you got hurt, even the smallest scratch sent him tumbling down. He’d grasp onto you, repeating the same words again and again; Are ya okay? Can I do anythin’? M’sorry. But the gloomiest time came at night after you'd fallen asleep, leaving him alone to succumb to the dreading feeling that was always chasing him. He’d lay beside you, watching your gentle features finally be at ease and always making sure your chest rose and fell with gentle breaths.

“We should just stay here.” You didn’t turn to look at Daryl when you spoke but he looked at you, admiring your silhouette as you looked off. “What do ya mean?” Daryl answered. He wasn’t entirely sure if you were actually talking to him or if the thoughts in your mind were just slipping from your lips. “We come to sit here all the time and no matter the weather, it’s always just…” Your words trailed off as your mind searched for the word to describe the scene before you.

“Perfect?”

An airy laugh came from your chest at Daryl’s word choice. You turned to him then. With your hand still in his, you brought it to your lips and planted a kiss. Almost as a way to say, thank you for the effort. “Comforting. But yes, also perfect.” In your mind it was warmth when it was cold, it was a breath of fresh air in a world of rotting corpses, it was the hope of a future in a world of early death. But he was right…in simple words it was perfect.

“We can build a little house-”

“We?”

With only one word his tone was thick with sarcastic disbelief. You playfully rolled your eyes and gave his hand a squeeze. With your free hand, you pointed to a random spot in the clearing as you rephrased your previous sentence. “You could build me a little house right there.” Daryl liked the sound of that better. A house he was to build, with his hands, just for you to live in. “We’ll fill it with all our things, steal some furniture from home, and scavenge the rest…We can build a fence around so we’re safe.” Your words were a daydreamy gleam and you were far from finished. “We’ll light fires in the Winter to stay warm and open the windows in Spring…” This was obviously a daydream you had put quite a bit of thought into, one you’d laid up at night pondering about, and Daryl would not rob himself of the indulgence of your words.

"I'll start a garden and you’ll hunt. We’ll always have full tummies,” You looked away from the sky to meet his equally blue eyes, “And even fuller hearts.” Your gentle smile rested upon your face and your eyes were filled with the longing of a home that only existed in your whimsical daydreams. Though it did not exist and there was a possibility it never would, Daryl felt himself melting into this world of what-ifs. Daryl had never associated the words home and love together before. But…what if it could exist? What if he could build a home. A home just for him. A home of comfort…a home where he could just simply love and not be afraid.

“W’bout everyone back home?” He questioned, “They’ll never find us.” You responded quickly. Daryl shook his head and scoffed, “Nah, they’d find us in less than a week.” Daryl’s ears perked up at the sound of your soft laughter. “Yeah, yeah they would.” Daryl’s eyes never left you, even when you turned your head to look around the wooded area. He could practically see the way you were editing your story. “Fine, we’ll uh-” Motioning behind you, you continued, “We’ll clear a path through the woods all the way to the road. So they can always come visit.”

Then, as you looked at him, the dread crept upon you. Wrapping its clawed mangled hands around your perfect bubble. “And when we go…we’ll go together.” This caught Daryl by surprise. The fate he so deeply feared was no longer chasing him. It was sitting on that tree with him…and in the form of the words that came from your tongue. “C’mom..don’t talk ‘bout that.” He tried to defer but you would not let him. Whether you went from a bite, from a bullet, from a freak accident, or if you were lucky enough to go naturally, it was and always will be the inevitable truth of fate. “Once we’ve lived in our home long enough and full of love, we can lay in the grass and go.”

Everyone went back to the earth anyway, right? You had no desire to be thrown in a hole and covered in damp cold dirt. If you had to decay, you wanted to be on the soft grass, under the sun, even under the rain. You wanted the wildflowers to eventually grow through the cracks of your skeleton, just as you had seen done with other animal carcasses. You’d let the bugs find shelter in your bones and you’d let the foxes nibble at you. Maybe it would stop them from eating all of Daryl’s rabbits.

“I mean it…I don’t wanna go alone. Never mind how it takes me, I just wanna go with you.” The hope that your eyes once shined was now overshadowed by the tears that formed in your waterline. Daryl swallowed the lump that formed in the back of his throat. “C’mere.” He opened his arms to you, providing you the comfort you desperately needed.

Now with your rambling seemingly done and your body against his, Daryl thought.

“Alright.” Was all he said. Though it wasn’t a typical alright, it was serious. You pulled yourself up from his chest and looked to him with a cocked eyebrow, “Alright?” You questioned. “Yeah.” His demeanor confused you, seconds ago you were spewing words of fantasy, words of love and death, but now he seemed a little too serious on the matter. “What do you mean?”

“Means I wanna do it.” He spoke with his face close to yours, eyes locking into your own, so so close. “Imma build ya a home. Might take a little bit but I promise I will.” With his promise, you closed the sliver of space between you. You had kissed him many times before but there was a new feeling to the gentle urgency his lips met yours with. You could feel the fear of fate melting away in the softness of his kisses and you felt the desire for a peaceful future replace it. And that peaceful future tugged at your lips and ran its fingers through Daryl’s hair.

But most of all there was now a promise. A promise that you’d build together, love together, be full together, and eventually…you’d rot together.

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