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fortheloveofleon · 6 months

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So, what if reader as spider person do smth WRONG like bad wrong, miguel got pissed (an understatement) and they run from miguel, they manage to hide from miguel for a good while but miguel eventually catch them, some fight happens and miguel has had enough he broke some bones and made sure the other spider person also couldn't do anything (the venom thing). The rest is up to you!

WICKED GAMES

⊱ Pairing: Yandere!Miguel x Spider!Reader

⊱ Summary: You decided to test Miguel’s limits and took something that didn’t belong to you. So, what’s the obvious response when the most terrifying Spiderman finds out? You hide. Unfortunately for you, Miguel enjoys the “seek” part a bit too much.

⊱ Contents: 18+, Yandere!Miguel, Dark Content, Scary? Content, Jealousy, Dub-Con, Non-Con, Dom!Miguel, Hate-Fucking, Face Slapping, Orgasm (M+F), Primal Kink, Biting, Creampie, Choking, Man-Handling, Hair Pulling.

Heavy footsteps fall to the concrete with each stride you take, lunging forward in a panicked haste. Soft breaths tremble in your lungs. The tightness in your chest grows and grows as you head further through streets.

Iridescent lights flicker above your head, and the smell of metal is making your eyes glass over. Even whilst slinking through these dingy streets and crooked alleys, you still haven’t entirely made out where you actually are.

And it’s all your fault.

Is it that bad you wanted to be treated like an adult?

You’re a grown woman. A Spider.

But Miguel refused to see you as such, always keeping an eye on you “just in case.”

You were sick of feeling like glass, and you were determined to prove yourself, so you made a wrong decision that just felt so right at the time;

You stole a portal watch from his lab.

Your naïve belief of thinking Miguel wouldn’t find out only made matters worse, and made him fucking livid when he did.

Thanks to a tip from Hobie back at Headquarters, you’ve managed to get a head start. So here you are, jumping from universe to universe, world to world, trying to escape the consequences.

After what seems like hours of running, you’ve arrived in some sort of warehouse, dead and silent. Dripping pipes and crunching glass are the only sounds accompanying your heaving breaths.

But just when you thought you’re safe, a sudden whirring noise rings through the air, echoing around you.

There’s a hovering gash, pulsing and glowing, omitting a flurry of blue particles. A burst of sparks, red and orange, rip open this cosmic, hexagonal wound to reveal a vacuum of time and space.

You make out a burly shape slipping out of it.

The portal leaves as quickly as it came, disappearing in a flash of light. A masked figure stands on the deserted warehouse floor, unmoving.

Using your webs, you pull yourself up to the beams of the roof, hiding and looking down.

You already know who it is.

Pulling the navy mask from his face, wavy hair ruffled and eyes dark, Miguel looks around the seemingly vacant room — you’re nowhere to be seen.

“I know you’re in here,” he drawls out, voice heavy. “It’ll be a lot quicker for me, and easier on you, if you just come out now.”

You say nothing, waiting with bated breath.

So does he.

He clicks his tongue, eyes rolling in irritation.

“Fucking…fine!” the brunette tuts, teeth gnashing together, chest heaving as he sighs. “You want to play a little hide-and-seek? Be my guest.”

Right now, you’re barely paying attention to his rambling; your gaze remains locked on a chance of escape.

Embedded in a wall across the room, is a vent.

You might get to it. If you’re quick enough.

Doing your best to stay quiet, perched on the balls on your feet, you slink across the metal beam, using only the webs of your palms to move with haste.

Shuddery breaths slip through your lips as you pull yourself closer to freedom.

“Oh, I forgot to mention one thing,” Miguel‘s voice echoes out from somewhere down below.

But, stupidly, you pause.

You take the chance to peek down, and the sight makes your heart fall — Miguel is stood by a light switch, one sharp finger resting against the button.

He’s looking straight at you, eyes crinkled in a humourless smile.

“We’re playing by my rules.”

And suddenly, the room flickers into a sea of black.

You manage to bury your scream somewhere between your chest and throat. One hand remains slapped over your mouth, tears pouring silently. You cling to the rafter, pressing your whole body down, swallowing wordless pleas.

Cold metal grunts beneath your nails. The sounds of creaking and shuffling echo around you, calling out in the dark.

Then, it’s eerily silent.

Hallowed breaths shake from your ribs. Your throat burns, and you blink rapidly, trying to find some sense of direction in this surrounding inky abyss.

But it’s no use; you need to get out here now.

You muster up the courage to drop to the floor, perching on the balls of your feet. Droplets of water splash around you, and force back a squeal, fists clenched, adrenaline rushing.

You swivel around, waiting for the reach of a clawed hand.

Still, nothing.

Unbeknownst to you, Miguel’s fighting back to urge to pounce on you right now, forcing his hand away from his crotch. But the look of pure anguish on your face has his cock harder than ever.

You’re pivoting on your feet every second, trying to make out where he can be.

It’s like he’s everywhere.

“Y’know, I had to force LYLA to show me your location on the Quantum Map?” his voice travels.

Gasping, you turn, swinging at the dark. White, hot thrill pulses through veins, pulsing through your body, tempting you with a high you can’t find anywhere else.

“Threatened to dismantle her software,” Miguel chuckles. You can hear the smirk in his tone. “It was funny, you should’ve heard her beg.”

“See?” you breathe out, head swivelling. “Even your personal AI knows you’re a fucking psycho,”

“That’s a pretty ballsy thing to say for someone who’s scared of me,” the dark calls out. The sound of deep laughter chimes around.

You swallow hard, blinking — it’s not a secret.

You are scared of him.

A majority of people, in the Spider Society or not, are scared of Miguel. He’s used to the looks of agitation, the fleeting glances, the scurrying.

But for some reason, he takes great pride knowing he can make you twitch.

“Do I scare you?” he whispers, humming your name. He sounds so close, words brushing your ear.

Behind you, a heavy claw reaches out of the dark, running gently up your spine — a warning.

The movement has you rushing forward, scrambling away, hiccuping out a scream.

You start to run, panicked.

Where to, you don’t know, but you’re running, fast and blindly.

Shoes hitting the floor with each step, you stumble and drag yourself forward, staggering through this maze of black, feeling the walls for any sign of exit.

Miguel follows your movements, waiting for his moment to strike, hard and true.

He watches the way you pull the mask from your face, breathing heavily in frustration, nimble hands tugging at the bolted doors and windows.

He smiles, seeing the panic settle in on your features when you realise you’ve run out of web fluid, leaving you stranded on this warehouse floor.

Suddenly, he hears nails scratching the concrete. He watches on as you grope the floor blindly, feeling out for something.

“No,” you whisper to yourself. “S-shit, fucking shit!”

Then, it clicks. Finally, the last domino has fallen.

Miguel grins in the shadows, eyes resting on the puddle by his feet. A soft glow shimmers against the water, revealing something digital and sunken.

You’ve dropped your portal watch.

How could you have lost it? It was just on your wrist. How could have been so careless, so stupid? Now, you’re trapped.

No longer relying on your silence, you begin to kick hard at the chained doors, grunting and groaning as the iron jangles.

Right now, you don’t have the time to fucking critique yourself, you need to leave.

“Fucking. Open!” you breathe out, booting at the metal. The head of the lock begins to bend, the doors shaking under the weight of your blow.

But just as hope begins to beam, a sudden crackling thud booms above you.

You turn.

The end of the warehouse is flooded in light, fluorescents humming. As you peer down, a tall figure crouches, and stands, facing you.

Miguel’s grinning hard, fangs and claws on show.

Your stare, eyes wide, and begin to kick harder at the door.

Bang.

The second light follows, illuminating the ground with a musky yellow. That figure in the distance grows closer and closer.

You can hear his feet pounding against the floor.

Bang.

Just as the third light shines down, the door shatters out, and a scream crawls up from your throat.

Miguel lunges at you, fangs bared, tackling you to the ground.

Heavy hands wrap around your throat, crumpling your shrieks to mere cries as the pair of you topple.

You’re cursing, kicking, flailing as much as you could, pummelling at his chest, arms, anything you can reach.

The larger man has settled himself between your legs, pinning you to the floor.

“C’mon, tú zorra, keep hitting me,” he grunts, goading you with a grin. “Fucking see what happens.”

In the tussle, you manage to punch him hard in his ribs, releasing an audible crack.

Miguel sucks in a breath, cold through the teeth as his brows . His jaw is set, tense and square. Rich brown eyes growing ever darker.

Before you can even think, a fist locked in the tresses of your hair, yanking hard. Pain burns at your scalp as Miguel tugs your head to the side, exposing the flesh of your neck.

A flash of teeth, a shining wink of a blood-tinged fang. Then he bites down.

Hard.

The world blurs for a quick second.

You feel flesh tear, and the smell of hot, wet metal fills the air. Miguel is almost growling against you. Canines shift beneath your skin.

Something, warm and sticky, is dripping down your neck. The room feels so clammy all of a sudden.

Vision softening, everything is a wave of colours and sounds. You can barely slur out your confusion as Miguel’s hands run along the shape of you, ghosting your clothed cunt.

“Y’wanna act like a bitch, huh?” Miguel hisses — you feel fabric tearing, pulling against your skin. Goosebumps decorate your body as you lay half naked on the ground.

“Looks like I’ve gotta remind who fucking owns you.”

Two fingers push against your mouth, and you’re too weak to fight against them. Saliva escapes from the corners of your lips and covers your chin as Miguel’s digits press against your tongue.

He tastes like blood and salt.

Your eyes flutter shut as you moan around his fingers, blinking out tears.

“You pathetic little slut,” Miguel’s huffing out a laugh, grasping your face, thrusting his middle and forefinger back and forth, grinning as you choke.

Miguel feels your fingers careening against the stiff muscle of his forearm creeping along his shoulders to find home in his hair, ready to pull again.

He jolts, moving quick to pin them against the floor with one heavy hand— despite the Rapture flowing through your bloodstream right now, he wasn’t dumb to let you even attempt to get a hold on him.

He tears his fingers from your mouth, slamming his lips to yours, tongue pushing past your teeth.

You couldn’t even find the strength to fight back right now — all you can feel is him. His body on you, hands groping, his mouth melding against yours.

Miguel finds your futile efforts quite cute. But your struggling isn’t helping you at all, and it’s only turning him on.

He’s grinning against your skin, pressing soft kisses against your jaw, down your neck. The sudden switch has you tense, wary, like a deer in headlights.

“Turn over.” The sentence wasn’t a request, but a demand.

One that he wasn’t patient enough to wait for.

Within a second, he’s got you flipped over, face pressed against the cold flood, arms pinned behind your back. Your bare ass sticks up in the air, and Miguel strikes the skin hard.

Choked pleas fall from your lips, but that doesn’t stop him. One, two, three more times you feel the roughness of his palms against your ass.

Your skin is singing in pain, every nerve set aflame at each swat.

“Ngh, God! I’m sorry! ” you squeal out, “I’m sorry!”

Miguel’s jaw is set once more, eyes steely as he stares straight at your glistening cunt.

“Oh, you’re sorry?” he breathes out, each word dripping in ridicule. A rough finger presses against the hot wetness building between your legs, sticky and sweet.

“No, you’re not. Not yet.”

A loud cry escapes you as Miguel plunges his cock, swollen and hard, deep in the sweltering heat of your cunt. Sharp pain throbs within you for a brief second, pulsing between your leg.

Fangs bared, Miguel groans at your grip. “Fucking hell.”

Tears drip down your face, darkening the concrete as each drop falls with every surge of his hips, the fat of your behind smashing against his abdomen.

“Oh, my G-God,” you stutter out sacrilege, nails biting in your palms. “Fuck, Miguel.”

As much as you want to hate this, hate him, you can’t control how your body feels. Your hips appear to have a mind of their own, pushing back in his grip. The tip of his cock kisses your cervix with each move, walls hugging his length with a tightness he’s never felt before.

There’s a sweltering mix of pain and pleasure, sweetness and salt, swirling inside of you as he’s hitting every goddam spot. Right now, you’re in limbo, on edge, just waiting for that one moment to push you into bliss.

And Miguel knows it. He can feel it. Smell it. Taste it, practically.

Yet, he’s seething.

How dare you enjoy yourself after making go to all this trouble? How do you have the fucking gall to find joy in this?

Heavy grunts escaping through his gritted teeth as his stray hand releases abandon your clasped wrists, only to grip at the back of your neck and push your face further into the ground.

“Dumb. Little. Slut,” he spits, emphasising on each word with a further thrust of his cock, drilling faster, harder, in the hot, wet mess of your cunt. “‘Course y’fuckin’ enjoying this. Never known a girl more hungry f’dick than you.”

You could only hiccup out small pleas as the taller man berates you with scorching insults, accompanied with a mocking laugh that melts into a moan.

Miguel wants to last longer - truly, he does. Nothing is more a sight for sore eyes than the pleading, whimpering mess you are.

But the sounds you’re making and the feeling of your walls tightening in on him, pulls him closer and closer to release quick than he intends.

He can’t help himself.

“Take it, hah, you…fuck…mi corazón.”

You whimper, eyes slinking shut as you breathe out a choked, “A-anything for you.”

With those last three brazen words, Miguel gives one final thrust, leaning over you to bite down on the curve of your neck as he comes — you’re both seeing stars.

It feels like you’re melting, from the inside out.

You can barely comprehend anything but these ebbing waves of sweet pleasure humming from between your twitching legs as you come, your plumped lips caught between your teeth so hard, you can taste blood.

Miguel’s rolling his hips in time with yours, panting, whimpering in your ear as he rides out this high for as long as he can, whispering sweet nothings and broken promises against your body.

You can feel this white mess sticking to your thighs, smeared against your abdomen, dripping with small plinks onto the cold concrete.

Miguel presses open-mouthed kisses down your back, running his tongue over the indents his fangs left in your skin.

“Don’t think I’m done with you yet.” A hand returns to the nape of your neck, clutching at your hair.

A familiar wave of dread washes over you.

“Just wait till we get back to the lab.”

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thetravelingtyper · 1 month

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Our Shattered Heart (Part 1) (GN! 'Heart' Reader x Taskforce 141)

After an injury and recovery, the men of the force find themselves acting a little differently towards you.

Inspired by the Smiths and Cage the Elephant.

Warnings: a building falls, use of song lyrics, protective 141

Part 2, Part 2.25, Part 2.50, Masterlist

SO I POPPED OFF at like 1 am with three shots of brandy lmao

The strings of a bass echoed into the open night. Electric steps, iron bridges, the river. Central town spinning away into the flurry of the night. You were running from phantoms, what had you done but cried into the night? Your phone long since turned off you were afraid to return to the safe house. Made up as a civilian you blend smoothly in, but the oppressive nature of their stares made your eyes water so you took your chance and bailed.

Even in your distress, you admired London proper. You wipe your tears and stop your swift walk. You could hear music? There was a well-lit area a dozen or so yards, (Metric Sergaent) You frown as your Lieutenant’s voice echos in your head naturally. You grit your teeth. Nothing you did was right. In training he’d catch every little mistake, poking out your weaknesses without telling you how to better your stance.

What of Soap and Gaz? Your fellow Sargents and supposed friends. One moment they had your back then after your injury they joined Ghost. Soap would pull you aside and scold you for using your ‘bad leg’ or your hits were too low or high. Gaz just commented after you healed up against you even serving. It took three weeks for you to have enough.

You turn on your phone to check the time, and it rings with a skull icon, you answer it as you can pick up the music.

“Fucking hell Sergeant where are you.”

“Doesn't matter Ghost, Fuck off”.

“Wait, Lo-”

You hang out and toss your phone into the river. You smirk, a sense of relief flooding your tense body. What had your valiant captain done about your concerns? Immediate relocation to a safe house for surveillance, with said team. Nothing of “I’ll talk with Simon” No you got the “You could be a liability so let us have three grown-ass men babysit you in the middle of the city.” You went to protest but he shushed you with a disappointed look that made you reel back.

You weren't British, maybe you didn't meet his standards. He's the one who requested an outside operative all those months ago. You performed top of your class and threw your body and heart into the job working your way into being the face of the team. It was you whom they sent to comfort those who lost loved ones as collateral. Everything changed when you broke orders to save a child.

“Heart, Ghost, Soap Clear Out Now! That is a direct order!”

The building rumbled and air support had’nt arrived. You had about a minute until the whole place collapsed.

“Affirmiative, Sergeants move out!”

Ghost ushered you in front of him and Soap was already running through the dust to get out. But as you turned to run you caught movement.

“Ghost there is someone in there!” You try to trace the movement but Ghosts gloved hand yanked you back as he started towards the entrance.

“No Heart-”

You gasped, there was a girl pinned under rumble! Your instincts take over and you shove out of his gasp with more strength then you ever though you could muster, Ghost stumbles and you book it back as he yells after you.

“GHOST, HEART OUT NOW THE BUILDING IS COMING DOWN!”

He had no choice but to leave you as you threw yourself over the girl. There was a loud rumble then black.

You huff, odviously you had survived and the little girl you pulled out from the rubble survived as well. After the dust cleared the next day, you had lugged a beam off her and you and hobbled her out to seek medical attention. Once the mission had finished Price and the others had rushed back to find empty rubble, it was a joyous mother who led the foreigners back to their Heart. And there you were, in some small village a hero treated to the best they could. All you could offer despite the pain of your leg was a small smile towards to girl who clung to you like a baby.

Soap had about given out before he rushed you with curses, poking and prodding like a mother hen. Gaz laughed, a wholehearted sound like melted caramel and quipped about surviving the sky falling. It was Price and Ghost who were not too keen, but you had a back up. The leaders of the village, who’s daughter and grandaughter you had saved, had what turned out to be excellent intel that you handed to Price with a smirk on your face.

“Fucking Hell.” Was all you gotten from Ghost and his head in his hands with a deep sigh.

What you didn't realize was how big of a deal it was to the Captain and Ghost. Once you got back to base and were put on a 3 month leave was when things soured. You were able to use connections in the village to work intel, something Laswell was grateful for, But Ghost took this personally, giving you almost a disapproving sneer when he would see you out of bed. Price was silent. No yelling, no scolding just silent. Some storm brewed and once you fully healed and went back to training it seemed Ghost tainted Soap. The Scot became overbearing, making less hurtful comments. A Gaz, once level headed, turned into Price’s little shadow, you could tell from their glances they were communicating.

After three weeks of being stationed with them, fully healed mind you, you had enough of walking on egg shells, being the subject of Ghost’s anger and Gaz’s twists and turns. You didn’t snap until Soap had risen his voice after your pacing.

“ENOUGH HEART.”

It caught Ghost and Gaz off guard in the small apartment as you turned wide-eyed. His eyes were stormy, set off by something you couldn’t identify.

“Johnny-”

“No LT. They need to learn their place”

Your hackles rose, you tried to calm the rage, how dare he?

“And whats that MacTavish? You four have been acting like I’ve been a virus since the day I came back! I worked my ass off to help you and this is how you asses repay me? Im not a fucking toddler you can drag around.”

Gaz went to speak but the glare you shoot him is venemous,

“No you don’t get say anything Kyle. You’ll just go running back to Price and prolong this little ‘vacation’ Im sick of being treated like a child.”

“Sergeant”

“Oh rich from you LT” You feel your nerves bristle as Ghost steps forward in challenge. Despite him towering over you, you bite back

“You can take your Sergeant and Stuff it. You have acted like an asshole through these past 4 months and I’m sick of it! You three are grown ass men acting like children. Run back to Price and bully someone else I'm sick of this shit.”

And with that you grabbed your bag and stormed off, disappearing into streets of London the three men stunned at your outburst.

---

You enter the lit area to find a band and civilians listening to, was that the Smith’s? You relax to the familiar music. The main singer is a handsome man, dark eyes raking the crown with a calm smile before you lock eyes and he winks. Unexpecting, you blush and turn into the crowd. He begins to sing with a voice of silver and honey.

Take me out tonight

Where there's music and there's people

And they're young and alive

Driving in your car

I never, never want to go home

Because I haven't got one

Anymore

There is a little irony as you take a seat at the bar. Over the past two years, before your four odd months the taskforce had become home to you. You settled in quite fine, either bickering along side Soap, joining with Ghost or helping Price and Gaz with their reports. Seeing your personal skills Laswell insisted on you staying.

She smiles when you enter in under the arms of Gaz and Soap.

“Hey kid, good to see you.

You nod at here before Price enters, he passes you three a look before ushering the three of you out of the office.

“Come on you two, the parents gotta meet now.”

You giggle as Price rolls his eye as you turn you catch a knowing look from Laswell to Price and as you head out the door, but being dragged to lunch, you miss the fond look he shoots you.

You order a bourbon neat, as you take a sip the chill of the night hits a little deeper and you frown behind your glass watching couples get up to dance. You remember that mission with a fond sigh, the bourbon reminding you of your tall and often mysterious Lieutenant.

Take me out tonight

Because I want to see people

And I want to see life

Driving in your car

Oh, please don't drop me home

Because it's not my home, it's their home

And I'm welcome no more

You tilt your head down, that mission oh. Something in your chest ached.

You entered the room in a shuffle, the trails of your outfit not what you were used to, but a mission like this called for finery. You stumble but pale hand’s catch your arm and tucks it in under his. You turn to the perpetrator but find dark eyes quietly regarding yours and you jump.

“Ghost!”

“Call me Simon at this point Heart”

You manage a quiet yes sir. He watches you with softer eyes before there is laughing down the hallway.

“He’s a lucky bastard is what he is, getting to take Heart all dolled up.”

Johnny’s voice has your eyes rolling. After a few months of your service the Scot had accepted you with open arms, and the flirting, my god the pick up lines. You sigh fondly into your drink.

“I mean you could just ask them-Lt! You’re early.”

Simon doesn’t offer more then a raised brow as he and Soap meet eyes and Soap turns away.��

“Kyle please can you help me with this,” You lift the tails of your outfit in a huff.

The man chuckles and nods, it was his idea anyway. His dark eyes meet yours with soft smile that makes you swoon. He offer you a hand and you go to take it but find resistance.

“Simon?”

“Hurry Love. We ship out in 10.” And with that he lets you go. Kyle’s hand is warm and rough and he twirls you to adjust the back of your outfit. Soap turns to Simon,

“The mask?”

And to your surprise, Simon looks to you and nods before slowly removing the balaclava. Soap and Gaz seemed unfazed but you were surprised. A year in you had yet to see more then his lips from a smoke or a drink, but the soft blond hair and scars found you staring at him. He watches you but when you meet his eyes you give him a soft encouraging smile. And his lips quirk up as Soap fusses with his mic and collar. Simon just grumbles at him and you laugh, a chiming sound that has all the men smiling.

You peer back through the crowd, how long had it been since you’d been out? You tip back the the rest of your bourbon and set the glass down feeling the sting. Fuck it. You drop your back and relax into the seat, the singer’s eyes meeting your with a smile as he continues to sing. You sway in your seat to the music.

And if a double-decker bus

Crashes into us

To die by your side

Is such a heavenly way to die

And if a ten ton truck

Kills the both of us

To die by your side

Well, the pleasure, the privilege is mine

You and Soap tumble together, hitting the ground before rolling. The impact steals the breath from your lungs as you grasp at him making sure he was alive.

“Never though i’d get ye like this Heart.”

You sigh, he was fine, despite just saving his ass. He rolls over so his weight isn’t on you more then it needed to be. You are sitting almost on his hips, he grins at you cockily with a raised brow.

“Stuff it Johnny, I just saved your ass.”

“Aye and I gotta thank you for it.”

And in a sudden sweep he pulled himself up and presses a soft kiss to the side of your lips.

“Thank you Love.”

Your face lifts a little at the memory and your heart skips a beat. Your eyes close an you bask in the warmth of the crowd. Following that moment the taskforce changed.

Take me out tonight

Take me anywhere, I don't care

I don't care, I don't care

And in the darkened underpass

I thought, "Oh God, my chance has come at last"

But then a strange fear gripped me

And I just couldn't ask

You hop off the stool and head into the crowd, heart aching for comfort and the hands of others.

First it was soap, falling into your shadow, after the kiss your heightened senses saw his eyes on you everywhere. With other soldiers? One of the members of 141 was there, or he was, hands across his chest, standing guard.

You were training with members of KorTac. The largest fellow, König had taken a keen interest in you due to your language skills and you found a calming friend in the man. Masked like your Simon you felt more comfortable with him. So when he had you pinned you squirmed and broke free.

“Good”

His voice is soft, pale eyes meeting yours as you roll up onto your feet. You run at him before he can get up, but he shoots up and grabs you with a little yelp escaping from your mouth as you are then thrown a few feet onto the soft mat. You roll onto your back, the breath knocked out of you and the ceiling spinning slightly.

“That’s enough!”

Garrick’s sharp voice surprises you as his form appears in your settling vision. He’s quick to kneel down and check you out.

“I’m fine Kyle, just a bit of the rough and tumble.”

His soft lips frown disapprovingly,

“I don’t like you wrestling with him.”

He helps you up and you see König’s form looking out for you. You give him a small wave.

“Sorry Schatz” The nickname pauses you as you stand, Kyle’s arm around you guarding.

You blush a little and smile at the tall man before a gruff ‘Sergeant’ calls from the edge of the room. You find Ghost leaning against the wall, arms crossed, glaring at König before he calls you to him. You nod a little dumbfounded and before you can pull out of Kyle’s grasp the man presses a kiss to the side of your head. Then lets you stumble into the waiting grasp of the Lieutenant.

You shake off the memory and your heart murmurs, but you ignore the hurt. For one night you were free from the confusion and rejection from your team. The crowd, seemingly sensing this welcomed you into their sway. A few single ladies sidled up you with wide smiles and pulled you into their group. You knew how to dance, you learned young, this skill pulled you into some interesting missions. As you sway with the ladies you recollect as the singer watches you.

Take me out tonight

Oh, take me anywhere, I don't care

I don't care, I don't care

Driving in your car

I never, never want to go home

Because I haven't got one, la-di-dum

Oh, I haven't got one

Oh, oh

Simon’s arms were steady around you, Price’s voice in your ear letting you know about the target. You had gone undercover as a couple to infiltrate a drug smugging ring. The leader was hosting a gala at a large mansion in the mountains. And seeing as Kyle and Johnny were on a mission that left you three on your own. You nod silently to Price. Simon pulls you closer and then spins you out on your heels.

“Who knew you could dance?”

You quip up at him, but he only nods, umber eyes taking in your form. You looked breathtaking and it stole the words from his lips.

FIrst Johnny then Kyle. You wondered as you looked up at Simon, handsome as ever in a dark black suit.

“Are you ok Simon?”

He hums, the sound deep in his chest, then in a moment he pulls you flush against him.

“Target on the move lovebirds.”

Price’s voice sound in your ears in a chuckle.

“RIght Captain.”

You sigh but Simon pauses in his movement, and you look up at him in confusion, you call his name but he just stares at you.

“We need to move Lt.”

Nothing, but his hand raising from your side to your face as he leans down and kisses you. After a few seconds he pulls a way and finishes with a

“Affirmative.”

Before leading your frozen self away.

You lose yourself in the music for a moment, rotating partners in innocent sways, just treasuring being lost in the moment, But this song of course must end.

And if a double-decker bus

Crashes into us

To die by your side

Is such a heavenly way to die

And if a ten ton truck

Kills the both of us

To die by your side

Well, the pleasure, the privilege is mine

The voice is much closer and you soon find yourself face to face with the mysterious singer. He smiles as he sings and it reminds you of the final piece of the puzzle.

Price had fallen asleep at his desk, again. You sigh fondly and set a cup of warm lady earl grey aside. You move over to him as he mutters something in his sleep. You felt bad waking him but you knew you needed to before he slumped over.

“Captain”

Nothing, even as you call it 3 times. Finally desperate,

“Johnathan Price!”

He shoots awake, eyes darting around tensely before he finds you and softened immediately.

“You can’t be doing that to a man love.”

“You were falling asleep again, how many times do I need to get on you about that Cap? “

The man regards you and chuckles before he sees the tea. You notice this and turn to grab and hand it to him. When you you turn back around the man is standing regarding you. The moment then feels intimate and you flush a little, stepping back.

“Sorry I’ll just leav-”

“No love it's fine, and please if it's just us call me John.”

He reaches for the tea taking a sip while his ocean eyes watch you. There is something there and you can sense it. After nearly two years of serving under him you grew to know him pretty well, there was fondness in his gaze for all his soldiers. But this was something softer.

“John, I…”

He finishes the cup and sets it down, listening wholly to you and you find the attention has your heart stammering.

“The others have-”

“I know love.”

There it is again and you find yourself pausing as John leans forward, taking your hand in his, rubbing comforting circles into.

“What do I do?”

“Up to you love. I am here for you regardless. You need to get some sleep.”

With this he presses a soft kiss to the palm of your hand and lets you go.

The next day your deployed to the small village and the following four months are hell.

You shake off the feeling. After your injury they treated you like a child, like a burden to be kept locked away. You sigh, pausing, feeling alone in the middle of everybody again.

Oh, there is a light and it never goes out

There is a light and it never goes out

The singer finishes with a frown. The crowd cheers then standard music plays and the moment is broken. The singer passes the mic to his member then turns to your pondering self.

“Are you alright Love?”

His voice is soft and he stands a respectable distance away. One of the members of his band takes the mic and begins with Heaven knows I'm miserable now, continuing the Smiths theme. You almost want to laugh a smile lighting up your face at past (bad very bad) Karaoke attempts with Soap and Gaz.

“There’s a smile.” He smile down at you and offers a hand, you take it introducing yourself. He raises a hand to the crowd and your new girl friends cheer you on as you allow the stranger to pull you into a dance.

The next hour passes with another drink with your new friends and opening up about yourself. Nothing about missions nor sensitive information, but finding yourself in a strange position with the four men of the 141. A little looser you describe them all with a few giggles in response as you recount their crazy tactics. It was nice and you settled into the easy arm of the singer. His arm laid only on the back of your chair but under the watchful eyes of the girl group you got comfortable. At the end of the hour, approaching 3 in the morning the singer was called back on to stage.

A new base line and you swooned as something a bit more American played. The singer nodded his acceptance to the bassist and began to sing.

Sun went down, sun went down over Pompeii

On both sides, the vow was broken

Oh my my, I'm the one, tryin' to hide this damage done

One day, all our secrets will be spoken

He looked at you and gave a wink and the girls cheered as you threw back a beer. Fuck it. You allowed them to pull you into the ever thriving crowd. Your group drew into the heart of the crowd right up in front of the stage.

As we slow danced, I became your statue frozen

Times I wonder, are we just a puff of smoke? Yeah

Underneath this bed of ashes, still withholding everything

Like we were never close

The singer surprised you and under a breath he hopped down from the stage to join the crowd. He approached you with a sway and a open offered hand. You looked into his eyes with a twinkle in yours. The girls cheering you on, you took his hand and swung into the music.

Don't you worry, baby, no sense tryin' to change it

I'ma strike these matches, never had control

I'm ready to let go, no, was I foolin' myself?

I'ma spread these ashes, never had control

I'm ready, I'm ready

I'm ready to let go

Here you were free to experience life, a break from the bullets, free from the heated stares of the 141. Well, at least for a while. You would go back eventually, you bag had enough supplies for a few days. As you spun in the singers free arms flashes of green, blue and brown spun through your vision. You were a little under but still alert, but with the music you let it all go.

Sun went down, sun went down over Pompeii

On holy ground, our vows were broken

We met up, we broke bread, I was blue, your dress was red

Ain't it strange? We both knew this day was comin'

As we slow danced, I became your statue frozen

Times I wonder, are we just a puff of smoke? Yeah

Underneath this bed of ashes, still withholding everything

Like we were never close

He pulled you closer in then, even if for a fleeting moment you felt your heart skip a beat. His eyes were obsidian, reflecting the lights like stars and he sings until he’s breathless. You wondered for a moment what could happen.

Don't you worry, baby, no sense tryin' to change it

I'ma strike these matches, never had control

I'm ready to let go, no, was I foolin' myself?

I'ma spread these ashes, never had control

I'm ready, I'm ready

I'm ready to let go

But as you dance the more of alert of the ladies elbows another, her head tilting subtly towards the entrance of the outdoor bar, where a familiar new set of men appeared. The girl went towards getting you but her friend stopped her as four sets of eyes found you then split up. She sent the girls a look.

Let’s see what happens.

Meanwhile you know the song is finishing and you find yourself taking the hand of the singer and he pulled you into a light embrace and spun you out as he finished breathlessly

Don't you worry, baby, no sense tryin' to change it

I'ma strike these matches, never had control

I'm ready to let go, no, was I foolin' myself?

I'ma spread these ashes, never had control

I'm ready, I'm ready

I'm ready to let go

He stops with a hum as the music continues for a few paces then goes out with the cheering of the crowd. You spin on the pads of your feet with a whooping feeling light in your chest, but you then bump into someone. But before you can apologize you are turned around in their arms and your breath hitches as Simon is staring down at you with dark eyes. It is then you sense another presence behind you and between you and the singer (whose hands are up in surrender) is Johnny.

The sounds of the band drown out with the depths of Simon’s eyes. There is too much there for you to comprehend. His sudden appearance breaks up the alcohol burning in your system and you stand up straighter. Emotions swirl underneath his balaclava, that alone a straight giveaway to his identity. There is anger yes, that much is evident, but you see the stinging presence of worry and something much deeper you dare not name. You turn your head away, the weight of the emotion pulling your heart back from the sky.

The singer shifted looking a little concerned, but Soap was a wide wall of muscle and kept himself close enough to brush your back from within Simon’s arms. The girls however outnumbered the men and give you a knowing look, you nod and they pull the singer away as he nods. You see Soap loosen immediately before turning and forcing your eyes into his.

Stormy blue oceans, the depth of which scare you as he nods to Simon towards the empty bar. You sigh and force yourself to loosen in Simon’s arms. He passes you to Soap and the men pull you gently to the bar where you are especially ashamed to see not only Kyle with your stuff, but a in the corner of the venue, out of noting eyes was John. Gaz with your bag, drew towards you and the four of you reached the awaiting Captain.

Johnny stood at your right, Kyle moving to your left and Simon towering over you like a vengeful wraith, and Johnny still had not let you go. You move to pull your arm from his, but he gives you a stern look, something of a overprotective mastiff.

“MacTavish”

“Captain-”

“Johnny.”

Simon’s deep voice rumbles from behind. Johnny hands trace down yours slowly before he takes your hand with a sigh, the tension finally releasing as his pinky takes yours in a final embrace before he finally lets go of you. He huffs and turns away in a slight pout that warms your heart and you find yourself taking his pinky back with yours. It’s a small show but the way his eyes light up behind the worry makes your heart melt. The other men trace the action, Kyle’s eyes meeting Price’s in silent communication. You all stand for a moment longer, not daring to speak, but when the wind causes you to shiver, alcohol in your system reddening your cheeks, its the weight of Simon against your back that surprises you, his arms, minding Soap’s hand, come under yours and wrap around you, his warmth melting into yours.

“‘Were worried Dove.” He leans down over you until his chin rests in top of your head and you can feel the rumble of his voice in your soul. It’s Kyle that speaks next.

“That was one of the stupidest things you’ve ever done Love.” The man frowns, but his eyes move back to the singer and the group of girls, then he eyes you again sharply.

“What if something had happened?”

Its hard to move with Simon's weight on you but you shot Kyle a withering look.

“Nothing happened, I happened to be having fun.”

“But he had his arms-”

“Kyle”

John’s voice finally speaks up and the man turns away to glower at the crowd, then he reaches a hand for your free one and meets your eyes. There you see a storm of concern, a deep fondness and a bit of protectiveness.

“We need to talk Love, about the past months.” John takes command again, something deep in his soul calm again seeing his team together. But there was time in the morning to talk. He could see the exhaustion of the day creeping into as did the other men.

“In the morning, John” SImon’s voice rumbles feeling your form sway.

“Right Simon” he nods but before turning John steps forward and presses a kiss to your forehead. The action jolting your heart awake and leaving you flushed.

“John?”

“It’s ok sweetheart, sleep, we’ll get you home.”

With that he turns as Kyle and Johnny reluctantly release your hands. This leaves you and Simon as the men wait.

“Si-?” You are suddenly lifted, strong arms finding your back and under your knees to lift you bridal style. You look up at him with wide eyes and he chuckles,

“I think I like the sound of that Love.”

And with a final turn to the crowd you manage a wave to the girls and the singer who shoots you a wink that causes a huff from simon before the man turns to follow the others.

Time to go home and as they walk, joking amongst each other with Simon’s soft voice luring you to sleep, You feel the loving eyes of the four men on you as you fall asleep.

----

End Part One!

Taglist! @ghostlythots

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idyllcy · 5 months

Text

easter lillies

word count: 2.6k

summary: you thought he wasn't too big on the soulmate thing.

"OW," You hiss as you jolt awake, a sting in your ribs. A flurry of flowers blooms where your soulmate's wound was, making you grimace as you look in your mirror. It's the fifth bruise this week. It really makes you wonder what kind of nonsense your soulmate was up to. It was almost as if they were one of those vigilantes your friends were screaming over. To be fair, you like them too, and he was technically one before.

You like them a normal amount... whatever the hell that means.

You pop a painkiller as you go back to sleep, the rest of your night going undisturbed.

You wake up with seven more flowers sewn across your upper back. But you've grown used to it, the flowers all treated as some tattoo on your skin, your skin showing where it needs to be, hidden where you don't want it shown. You would prefer that your soulmate didn't have bruises all over his skin, but it made him easier to identify. Well, it made you easier to identify. The flowers all over your skin are more eye-catching than any clothes you wear.

The flowers have been a part of you for as long as you can remember.

At seven, you shrieked when you woke up with flowers all over your legs and skin, sobbing as your parents tried explaining that it was just marks from your soulmate's skin and not some magical demon who had tattooed flowers all over your body.

Somewhere on your soulmate, they have a red flower on their ring finger, a mole you grew up with.

"Iced latte with oat milk!"

You reach for the cup, pressing the cup to your lips as you head off.

You hiss as a flower blooms on your finger. Seriously? A papercut?

You grimace, exhaling slowly as you press the coffee back to your lips, agitated.

Truth was, you knew who your soulmate was. He was a dead man. Your mother brought home a photo of a young boy around your age, Bruce Wayne's second son, an autopsy done on his body, scars matching your flowers, and you begged her to see him. His funeral wasn't open to the public, but you had shown them the flowers all over your body and how you heard his body was wounded beyond repair, and then finally the autopsy scar you had on your own body, and they let you in. You didn't feel sad that he died. You didn't know him.

but you mourned over what the two of you could have been.

just.

a little.

You didn't ask for anything from Bruce, just a couple of moments to stare at him through the open coffin, checking his ring finger for your red flower, expression falling when you remembered how many flowers were scattered across your body. His name was Jason— Bruce told you. He liked reading books and talking to his teachers, he liked tinkering with cars and his older brother. You were told everything about the boy, his diary given to you as a memorial.

"Jason would have wanted you to have this." Bruce had said.

You doubt Bruce would have given it to you had he known Jason was documenting all of his adventures as Robin in it. You didn't tell Bruce, you didn't tell your parents, you didn't tell anyone. The boy was dead and you knew it.

At seventeen on a random morning, a new flower bloomed around your ankle. A green one on your heart, and a blue one on your ankle.

You would have passed it off as an error in the universe had you not been screaming in pain when the green one bloomed. You were rushed to the hospital and sedated in tears, the burn too much for you. When you woke up, a blue one on your ankle had formed too, and you were told that your soulmate must be alive. Whether it be from this universe or another, your soulmate was back.

It made you sick to no end.

That meant that Jason, that poor boy, was resurrected like some science experiment.

Nowadays, you spend your time sorting through papers in Bruce's company, drinking expensive coffee, working a job that you got through connections. Bruce had given it to you without second thought. No one likes sorting through legal documents and risking getting fired because of a single mistake without some sort of insurance. You just wanted a house to live in. You get bored these days. Sometimes when you see a worker's soulmate visit them, you wonder what it would be like if Jason were still alive.

Well, alive legally.

It's kind of hard to find a man that's legally dead but technically alive.

Bruce hasn't told you shit either, and according to Jason's diary... he probably wouldn't tell you anything unless you dragged yourself down to the Batcave yourself.

and that? you don't plan on.

You settle with working on papers until it's 5, pausing when you notice something that definitely did not belong with the rest of the pile. You don't want to know what the paper was doing in a pile of business documents, but it's not your problem. You should probably get them to Bruce.

You find the rest of the document in the pile and mumble to yourself, dialing the home phone.

"Hello?"

"Alfred." You exhale in relief. "Bruce left um... papers in the office that don't belong here and I don't think they can be shredded... could I send it to the mansion right now?"

"Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"Oh, no. I'll head home after, but I appreciate the thought." You smile. "I'll head over right now."

"I shall bring you some cookies, then."

"Oh... I won't say no to that." You laugh. "See you in twenty."

In retrospect, showing up to Wayne Manor right before sunset was probably not the smartest thing you've ever done, but it isn't exactly the worst thing you've done either. You ring the doorbell and blink in surprise at the sight of... who is this?

"You are?"

"I'm here to hand Alfred some personal files that Bruce got mixed up into the business ones." You tilt your head. "You are?"

"Just call me Jay." He nods. "Alfred's in the kitchen. Should I take you there?"

"Please do." You nod.

"So who are you?"

"Um, I sort through files in the office. Are you one of Bruce's kids?"

"You're really close with the old man, huh?"

"Not really." You mumble. "You use the connections you have in life when you get lazy."

"Why not just have him fund you?"

"I'm not holding his dead son over his head for something like that." You grumble. "How are you related to him?"

The man's lip quirks up in amusement. "I'm one of his dead sons."

"One? He has more than one dead son?"

He shrugs. "Alfred. The little aide is here."

"My apologies for not greeting you at the door. I shall take the papers from you." He nods. "Here are your cookies."

"Thank you, Alfred." You smile.

"Master Jason, could you take them back?"

You freeze, staring up at him. "You're Jason?"

"In the flesh." He smiles. "Nice meeting you, soulmate."

You blink at him slowly. "Wow, for a zombie, you look real good."

"Thank you."

"If someone sleeps with you, does that make it necrophilia?"

"I wouldn't go that far, doll." Jason raises a brow at you.

You shrug. "Thank you, Alfred. I'll get going now."

"Will we see you around?"

"Not unless Bruce gets his papers messed up again."

Jason sends you out, but neither of you really talk to each other. He doesn't ask, so you don't give. Besides, it's not as if you could date someone... dead, or something. You're not quite sure what to make of Jason. Well, not like you had to live with him. If your soulmate died once, you're sure you can live another day without seeing him.

Except he can't.

You wake up at 2 with a giant flower in your stomach area, and you shove a painkiller down your throat, heaving as you down as much water as possible to try and speed up the pill's effect, your head spinning. Jason probably got stabbed or something. You don't want to know, but you find that you don't have much of a choice when Dick shows up at your door with Jason in his arms, and you grimace.

"Sorry for abusing your care, but—"

"If I had a dime for each time I've had to wrap up a bleeding man, I'd be as rich as B." You grumble. "What is it this time? Does he need stitches? Is the mansion too far?"

"Too far."

"I'm fine." Jason coughs. "I can make it back."

"Yeah, with a wound like that? I think the fuck not." You wince as you peel his jacket off, revealing a large gash. "I thought you wore armor?"

"Stabbed through. Human inventions do nothing against foreign forces." Dick mumbles, finding your kit.

You catch as Dick tosses you the first aid kit. "You're paying rent for me this month." You deadpan, resting Jason on your knees as you sterilize a needle. "Any pieces inside the wound?"

"Nothing."

"Scream if you need to." You start on the wound, making haste as Jason throws his head back, gasping as you pierce through his skin to sew it back together. The feeling has long been normalized in your skin as you finish and tie the thread. You wrap the wound, helping Jason sit up when you're done. You look up at Dick, and he sighs.

"We'll cover costs for this month."

"Thank you." You get up. "Anything else?"

"B said you can skip work for the rest of the week." He pauses.

Right. It's not like B would tell it to your face, but his kids were not slick when it came to crashing your place to get wounds fixed up. You don't know how the word got to them that you had taken a mock-surgery class in high school, but they did not spare you when it came to wound dressing. You don't even know how Robin had managed to find your address when you moved out. Sure, Dick was older than Jason and probably found out somehow, but Robin? Seriously?

"Alright. Now get out."

"What would your coworkers think if they saw you like this?"

"Um... I don't care." You smile. "out."

"Jaybird, aren't you glad your soulmate knows how to close wounds?" Dick sighs. "We're crashing the couch."

"Then don't be loud." You give him a thumbs up. "I'm sleeping. The wound hurts."

"Will do." He nods.

You lock your door as you go back to bed, turning off your alarms as your back hits the mattress, knocking out.

The sun hits your eyes in the morning when you wake, and the smell of butter flutters through the room as you sit up, slightly confused before remembering Dick brought Jason to your apartment last night. You appreciate that they at least get rid of the suits before knocking on your door. Besides, you think Dick only brought Jason to you and not a safehouse was because you're his soulmate. Soulmates be dammed, you want at least one week where you aren't patching up someone from the Waynes unmasked.

"Good morning." You mumble.

"Morning." Jason nods. "I made breakfast as a thank you."

"Thank you." You mumble. "You'll need a couple of days with a wound like that."

"Did it hurt?"

You raise a brow at him, pressing your mug to your lips.

"What?"

"The wound."

"No. It didn't." You deadpan. "No shit, of course it did."

"I saw... painkillers scattered across the apartment."

"Yeah." You answer him as if it's the most normal thing in the world. It isn't. It's not supposed to be. Jason knows that much. It's not. You know it too. No average person has painkillers scattered across the apartment like decoration. "Why?"

"Is it because I get injured so much?"

You snort.

"No. It's obviously because I got beat to death by a crowbar and had to get sent to the hospital because I didn't die from it, I only felt every single wound inflicted on my body and had to live with it since I'm immortal and all." You roll your eyes. "Oh, not to mention that I frequent the hospital so much that the workers there all know me by name. Oh, don't even get me started on how the pharmacists don't even need me to hand them a prescription anymore. And!!! I'm not even going to think about the fact that almost every inch of my body has been covered in flowers at some point. Though, the autopsy pattern is a great conversation starter at raves." You trail off.

Jason's eyes trail down to your stomach peeking through your shirt.

The guilt. The guilt eats him alive.

"Can we start over?" He blinks slowly. "I... I'm sorry."

"If you're really sorry, you can pull out of the vigilante business." You shrug. "I don't want a sorry. I want less tattoos and less painkillers consumed."

"You seem used to this."

"I woke up with twelve flowers across my back when I turned seven." You pause. "since then, it's been normal to wake up with a couple of new ones... save for the years you were dead."

"Ah." Jason blinks slowly. "I'm sorry. I can't stop."

"I know." You mumble. "Just... stay safe."

"I'll keep that in mind."

But it bites you in the ass as more flowers bloom across your skin, even if they're no longer painful. Small bruises, doses of pain that you've grown used to, doses of pain that no longer affect how your day goes, doses of pain that no longer matter to you. You appreciate that he isn't breaking bones anymore. You sleep through the night much more these days.

But you don't see Jason.

You wonder...

nope. not possible.

WRONG!

You tilt your head as Dick smiles sheepishly at your door again. This time, he's the one bleeding.

"Sorry, too far away from the mansion, and Dickhead insisted on visiting." Jason explains. "He's not dying. He just needs some ice."

"You'd think he's impossible to be harmed, huh?" You let the two in. "So? Are you leaving by car?"

"We'll figure it out."

You lay Dick on the couch as you wince at the bruises on his body. "You must really hate your soulmate."

"She hates me too. We're even." Dick smiles.

"I don't doubt that." You mumble. "Seriously." You dress his wound, sighing.

There's an elephant in the room. Now you forgot whether or not Dick knows you know he's Nightwing.

Maybe he does..? You don't remember, and you're too tired to ask.

"I'm kicking you out after this."

"You let us stay when Jaybird was hurt but not when I am?" Dick gasps in faux offense.

"You're not my soulmate. Shoo."

Dick sighs dramatically as Jason takes him out, and you toss Jason your car keys.

"Drive him back."

"Will do. I'll get it back to you tomorrow."

"Take your time. I don't need to get anywhere anyway."

Jason is... strange. You're not used to his presence around you.

He drops by your place with every single excuse in the book— he's got a bruise, he's out of eggs, he's hungry, he got a free drink from the store and thought of you. You don't know. Quite frankly, the fact that Jason dropped by so often was concerning. What the hell was he even doing? You thought he didn't like soulmates.

"I brought—"

"I set the table already." You sigh, letting him in. "I thought you didn't like soulmates?"

"It may have..." Jason goes quiet, last word coming out as incoherent mumble.

"Hm?"

"May have grown on me." He whispers.

You blink at him slowly, eyes wide as you stop to stare at him.

"What."

"The whole... soulmates thing." He swallows, suddenly feeling shy. "Grew on me."

Your cheeks grow warm as you stare at him with wide eyes, heart racing in your chest. "It grew on you?"

"It grew on me."

"Yeah?"

Jason smiles. "So I'd like to..."

"Better be worth it, corpse boy."

"I promise." Jason whispers. "I promise."

#jason todd x reader #jason x reader #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #jason todd imagine #fighting for my life i finally finished 1/4 requests from 500 #☾.events #☾.fics

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soulofapatrick · 4 months

Text

Falling Into You - Stiles Stilinski x Female Reader

Summary: you and stiles finally give into your unknown crush on each other

Words: 2.6K

Warning: Heated makeout session; if you squint there's dry humping

Y/N’s POV

Living with Stiles has been far from boring. Ever since my dad was killed and my younger brother - Isaac - went to live with Derek, Sheriff Noah Stilinski graciously opened his home to me. That meant living with Stiles too, and let me tell you, it has been anything but dull. Stiles has this knack for turning even the most mundane day into a storytelling session filled with the antics he and Scott get up to.

I’ve grown to love it here. The Stilinski house is like a second home, and the sheriff is like a second dad to me. He’s been incredibly supportive, especially during the tough times. And then there’s Stiles. He’s… well, he’s Stiles. Quirky, witty and always wearing that mischievous grin.

Lately, though, something’s shifted. I’ve caught myself stealing glances at Stiles when he’s not looking. His passion for solving mysteries, his loyalty to his friends—there’s something undeniably endearing about him. Maybe it’s the way he cares for everyone around him, or the way he throws himself into every insane situation without hesitation. But it's more than that. There's a warmth in his laughter, a genuineness in his concern, that makes my heart flutter a bit faster. And as much as I try to ignore it, I can't deny that a crush has been slowly blossoming.

Living under the same roof, it’s hard to keep these feelings under wraps. I find myself wanting to spend more time around him, hoping for moments where it’s just the two of us, away from the chaotic everyday that is Beacon Hills. Yet, I’m also terrified. What if he doesn’t feel the same way? What if it ruins our friendship or makes things awkward while living with him?

Stiles is currently sat cross legged on my bed, looking so engrossed in whatever supernatural mystery he's delving into. His dedication is admirable, even if it means sacrificing proper posture for the sake of research. I can't help but steal glances at him every now and then, admiring the furrow in his brow as he concentrates.

I wish I could tell him how I feel. But the fear of ruining what we currently have, the fear of changing the dynamic between us, it’s suffocating. So instead, I go back to focusing on my assignment, the words blurring on the page as my thought drift back to him.

The room is quiet except for the clicking of keys and the occasional muttered comment from Stiles. As I sit at my desk, trying to concentrate on the assignment in front of me, my mind wandering again—this time an entirely different scenario and it’s one that feels both exhilarating and terrifying.

I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to set aside the fear and uncertainty, to sit next to Stiles and lean in, closing the distance between us. What would it be like to press my lips against Stiles’? Would they be as soft as they look, as warm as his laugh? My heart races at the mere thought, a flurry of emotions dancing within me.

I picture the moment vividly: closing the space between us, feeling the warmth of his breath mingling with mine, and the anticipation before our lips meet. I imagine his hands, tentative yet steady, finding their place on my skin, maybe on the curve of my cheek or the small of my back. How would it feel to have his touch ignite a thousand sparks, to feel the electricity between us?

There’s a mix of longing and hesitation, the desire to experience that connection, yet the fear of disrupting the comfortable equilibrium we've found in our friendship. But in my mind's eye, it's a beautiful chaos—a leap into the unknown, a chance to explore something deeper, something that might exist beyond our late-night conversations and shared moments.

Before I can continue imagining me and Stiles the said boy breaks my thoughts, “Hey Y/N! Come here,” He speaks, excitement in his voice but his eyes never once leaving the screen.

I force myself out of the reverie, blinking away the vivid daydreams as Stiles called out to me. His excitement is palpable, contagious even, and I push aside the rush of emotions to focus on the present.

I rise from my chair, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and nervousness as I make my way to where Stiles is seated. He’s still hunched over the laptop, his attention entirely captured by the screen. With a careful step, I settle on the bed behind him, leaning over him enough to rest my chin on his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of what’s got him so intrigued.

His warmth seeps through the fabric of his shirt, radiating against my chest, a sensation I try desperately to ignore. The scent that envelopes me—a blend of old books, faint traces of motor oil and a lingering hint of coffee—should be distracting, but it’s oddly comforting. It’s quintessentially Stiles, a unique combination that feels inexplicably familiar and reassuring.

I glance at the screen, feigning interest in whatever supernatural phenomenon has grabbed his attention. But truthfully, my focus wavers between trying to understand what he’s showing me and the proximity between us. His presence feels magnetic, drawing me in, yet I fight the urge to let my thoughts drift into forbidden territory.

“Look at this,” He exclaims, pointing to a section on the screen. His enthusiasm is infectious, and for a moment, I forget the inner turmoil, getting lost in his excitement.

Stiles is engrossed in explaining something on the screen, his energy palpable. I try my best to keep up, nodding along as he talks, but the proximity between us amplifies every emotion within me.

Suddenly, he turns his head, excitement lighting up his russet eyes as he tries to make a point. His words trail off mid-sentence, and in that suspended moment, our faces are unexpected close. I feel his breath, warm against my skin, a sensation that sends a shiver down my spine.

As if in slow motion, I notice every tiny detail—the freckles scattered across his pale skin, the way his eyes dart down to my lips for the briefest moment before meeting my gaze again. My breath catches in my throat, and I’m sure he can heart the erratic beat of my heart. There's a shift in the air, an unspoken tension that crackles between us. His cheeks flush with colour, a shade of red that matches the intensity of my own emotions. I can't tear my gaze away from him, from the way his eyes flicker between mine and the way his lips part, as if searching for words that elude him.

For a moment, time seems suspended, our silent exchange speaking volumes. I feel a surge of courage and vulnerability intertwine within me, a silent plea for something more, a leap into the unknown.

But just as quickly as the moment arrives, it slips away. Stiles blinks, breaking the trance, and clears his throat, shifting slightly away. "Um, sorry, got carried away there," he stammers, his voice a tad higher than usual.

The air feels charged with an awkward tension, heavy with the weight of unspoken words. I try to ease the discomfort by standing up, intending to head back to my desk and salvage what’s left of our usual camaraderie. But before I can even take a step, Stiles’ hand shoots out, wrapped around my wrist in a swift motion that catches me off guard.

Caught off guard by the sudden proximity, I stumble and practically find myself in Stiles's lap. His warmth envelopes me, and for a moment, our heartbeats synchronise in a chaotic rhythm that seems to echo the unspoken emotions between us.

Stiles’ eyes lock onto mine, a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability swirling within their depths. His tongue darts out to wet his pretty pink lips, a nervous gesture that betrays the intensity of the moment. Before I can fully comprehend what’s happening, his hand finds the back of my neck, drawing me closer.

In that heartbeat before our lips meet, the world around us seems to still. His touch sends a surge of electricity through me, igniting a fire that I didn’t know was simmering within. And then, finally, our lips touch in a kiss that feels both anticipated and inevitable.

As our embrace intensifies, the laptop becomes a mere afterthought, pushed aside to make way for the burgeoning heat between us. Stiles's movements are deliberate, his hands finding my hips with a confident touch, guiding me to straddle his lap as our bodies mold together.

The kiss deepens, the connection between us sparking a newfound intensity. Stiles’ hands, warm against my skin, slip under the fabric of my teeshirt, sending shivers cascading down my spine. His touch is electric, fingers tracing patterns along my hips, a gentle yet possessive hold that ignites a fire within me. I tangle my fingers in his messy hair, feeling the soft strands between my fingertips as I tilt his head back slightly, deepening the kiss. There’s a dominance in his action, a confidence that surprises me but also excites me in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

His lips move with purpose, fervent and seeking, a silent demand for more as our breaths mingle in the shared space between us. Each movement, each touch, feels like an unspoken confession of desires long kept hidden.

My heart races as I lean into him, relishing the sensation of his lips against mine, the way his body responds to my touch. And as I lose myself in the passion of the moment, it becomes clear that Stiles, despite his usual playful demeanour, possesses a commanding presence that takes my breath away.

As the intensity of the moment heightens, Stiles’ touch remains both from and reassuring, his hands guiding me with a tenderness that contrasts his newfound dominance. With a gentle yet firm pressure, his long, nimble fingers press against my back, coaxing me to lower myself onto him. There’s an undeniable pull in his touch, drawing me closer until I’m lying atop him, our chests pressing together in a shared rhythm. Our breaths mingle in the small space between y=us, the heat of the moment making the air around us feel charged.

His chest rises and falls with each breath, syncing with mine, creating an unspoken harmony. The sensation of our bodies pressed together sends jolt through me, an electric current that ignites every nerve ending.

As I rest against him, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat against mine, a rush of emotions floods over me—desire mingled with a newfound intimacy, vulnerability meshed with a sense of comfort in this uncharted territory.

Stiles's gaze holds a mixture of passion and tenderness, a silent understanding passing between us in the shared silence. His fingers trace gentle patterns along my back, a gesture that speaks volumes, conveying a reassurance amidst the fervour of the moment. His lips part as if to speak but instead, in a very Stiles fashion, a torrent of words spill out in a hurried stream.

“I-I've wanted to do this for so long, and I'm sorry, I should've asked, I mean, I wanted to ask, but then this moment happened, and I just... I didn't want to ruin it, but I should’ve—" He babbles, the words tumbling out faster than I can comprehend. His apology mixes with an admission that he’s wanted this as much as I have, and amidst his rambling, I can’t help but laugh softly, finding the sudden flood of words endearing.

Before his apologies and explanations can continue, I decide to silence him the best way I know how. With a gentle yet decisive motion, I cup his face in both hands, capturing his lips in a kiss that speaks volumes, stealing away his words and replacing them with the silent language of our shared desires.

The kiss is deliberate interruption, a way to convey everything I’ve been feeling in a single moment. It’s a tender yet firm assertion, an assurance that words are unnecessary amidst the eloquence of our connection.

As our lips meet, I feel a shift in the air, the nervous energy dissipating into something more serene. Stiles’ initial surprise melts into a reciprocated warmth, and soon, the kiss becomes a dance of shared affection and unspoken apologies. In that suspended moment, the kiss becomes a story of its own—a narrative of unspoken emotions conveyed through the gentle meeting of our lips. Stiles's initial surprise gives way to a newfound ease, his lips molding against mine with a familiarity that feels surprisingly natural yet exhilaratingly new.

His touch, tender yet assured, ignites a cascade of sensations. His hands explore, tracing the contours of my back, sending tingles racing along my skin. There’s a delicate balance in his touch, a mix of reverence and longing that speaks volumes about the dept of his emotions.

As our kiss deepens, I’m enveloped in a whirlwind of emotions. Stiles’ lips against mine feel like a discovery—a blend of softness and fervour, an unspoken language that surpasses any verbal communication. Each movement of our lips is a revelation, a testament to the unspoken connection between us. His closeness has a gravitational pull, drawing me in and enveloping me in a sense of security and desire. In this moment, I feel cherished, desired, and seen in a way that goes beyond mere words.

The intensity of our kiss, a universe of emotions contained within, is abruptly interrupted by the jarring ring of Stiles’ phone. Startled, we break apart, a shared groan escaping both of us as the moment fractures, replacing by the intrusion of reality. Stiles fumbles for his phone, his expression a mix of frustration and resignation. With a sigh, he answers and puts it on speaker, revealing Scott’s urgent voice on the other end, asking if Stiles had found any leads.

As Stiles responds to Scott’s inquiries, I take the opportunity to sit back up, adjusting my position so that I’m straddling his waist. The shift seems to catch Stiles of guard, his breath hitching slightly, and I can feel the bulge pressing against my ass. I watch as Stiles bites his lip, a subtle attempt to suppress any involuntary sounds, his focus divided between the phone call and me, shifting on his lap. His eyes meet mine for a fleeting moment, and I can see a hint of frustration at the interruption, mixed with a smouldering intensity that sends a thrill through me.

Leaning closer, I offer an apologetic smile, silently acknowledging the disruption but unable to resist teasing him but grinding my hips against his, pretending to get more comfortable on his lap. I notice the way his breath catches again and his hands dart for my hips unsure if they want to stop my hips or help me roll them against that growing bulge.

“Sh-shit,” A moan escapes him and Scott falls silent as Stiles’ cheeks bloom a pretty shade of red, “Fuck, I gotta go, talk later.” And with that Stiles is hanging up, practically throwing his phone on the floor and in one quick moment has us flipped over so I’m laying underneath him.

“Hi.” I breathe quietly, an ache between my legs.

“Don’t you ‘hi’ me you little tease.” He grumbles, leaning on his elbows either side of my head.

“What you gonna do about it?” I challenge, loving the gleam in his eyes.

Stiles chuckles softly, his eyes dancing with mischief as he leans closer, his breath brushing against my lips.

"Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea what you've started."

Teen Wolf Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

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rachalixie · 17 days

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a/n: eid mubarak! i hope this reaches the people that i want it to :) i tried my very best as i don't celebrate personally, but i think that eid is an absolutely beautiful holiday and deserves to be appreciated by all. special thank you to @astraystayyh and @lino-nyangi i love you two so much i hope your celebrations are magnificent and that your tummies are full of good food and you eat lots and lots of sweets <3

chan arrives in a flurry of excitement, giggling as your younger cousins and siblings flock to him and hang off of his legs. he ruffles their hair, telling them how much they’ve grown since he last saw them, and finishes it off with folded bills that he presses into their hands along with a gentle kiss to the crowns of their heads. one by one, he gains their favor and they squeal about how he’s their favorite uncle - a thought that makes him blush and intertwine his fingers with yours.

minho helps you cook dish after dish, porcelain and ceramic serving plates stacking up as you cook together. the air in your kitchen smells absolutely divine, spices and saffron and nutty rice steaming away as the two of you flirt around each other and exchange kisses over the sink. he always enjoys learning how to make new recipes, but learning the foods you used to make with your mom as a child is something dear to him.

changbin takes the time to learn things - asks your father what he’s supposed to do because he wants to make sure he’s doing things perfectly. he cares less about the formalities and more of the hidden things he can do, wanting to surprise you just to see that pleased look on your face. you’re making that look now, as he approaches you after having coffee with your father and uncles, and he hands you his empty cup. it’s full of gold chocolate coins, and he sheepishly admits that he didn’t have real gold but he thought it would do. the way you lean up to kiss him, keeping his body between yours and the door so no one can see, tells him that he did just fine.

hyunjin revels in your beauty; though he thinks you’re gorgeous all of the time, something about seeing you in traditional clothes with threads of gold woven into colorful fabrics makes you glow in a way he can’t get enough of. he puts on the finishing touch, sliding intricate jhumkas into your ears, the weight of them a comforting reminder of his fingers brushing against your lobes. he tells you how beautiful you are countless times, whispering it to you so only you can hear, but everyone knows from the blood that rushes to your cheeks in turn.

jisung spends weeks after weeks in secret learning arabic, or rather trying. he stumbles upon his letters, syllables that make no sense to his tongue, but he practices over and over until he can say one thing that he whispers to you just as the clock strikes midnight. eid mubarak, he mumbles as he brushes his fingers across your brow, his eyes shiny in the moonlight as he keeps his gaze fixed on you. he’ll repeat the phrase to your family and friends later, but his clumsy pronunciation and small smile make this first one so special to you.

felix revels in the act of charity always, but sharing it with you brings a lightness to his heart that he can’t get enough of. he’s more motivated than you are, dragging you to homeless shelters and daycares and wherever he can find to volunteer and give back. on the last day, he shyly shows you a list of charities he’s donated to all month, in your name, and you tackle him into a hug with tears in your eyes.

seungmin fits in like he’s been celebrating with you for years. he stuffs his belly full with delicious food, chats with your parents with a wide grin on his face, plays with the children like he raised them himself. he does everything perfectly, knowing when to greet people and when to participate in prayer and where to go. it surprises you in a delightful way, in the same way that he always does when he knows something about you that you don’t even know yourself. you discover later, when you unlock his phone to take photos of him laughing across the room, the extensive research on eid traditions that he has open in his browser.

jeongin is so nervous to meet your extended family for the first time. he fiddles with his hair for an hour, making sure that not a single strand is out of place. he smooths down his clothes when he gets out of the car, and stares at the front door of your parents’ house with wide eyes and an open mouth, and you have to press his jaw up with gentle fingers as your mother opens the door. you watch the nervousness fizzle out as he’s greeted with warm welcomes from everyone, treating like he’s part of the family already.

#stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids #bang chan imagines #skz fluff #lee know imagines #changbin imagines #hyunjin imagines #jisung imagines #seungmin imagines #felix imagines #jeongin imagines

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suashii · 10 months

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୨♡୧ TREAT YOU BETTER — bakugo x reader. sfw. hurt/comfort. fluff.

jumping to conclusions and making assumptions without all the facts is rash, you know, but you’re starting to think you’ve been stood up. what else does it mean when your date is fifteen minutes late and has left three of your texts unanswered?

a flurry of emotions whirls around inside of you as the realization dawns on you; embarrassment, anger, sadness. the last one pisses you off even more because you shouldn’t be sad. that poor excuse of a potential boyfriend certainly didn’t care about you, so why should you place any weight on his actions? if anything, you dodged a bullet.

that’s the logical, rational way of thinking, but ignoring the pang in your heart is harder than you think. you can’t help but get caught up by the wave of disappointment that washes over you. the plastic straw between your teeth is almost chewed beyond recognition as you contemplate whether you want to swallow your pride and stay to eat alone or admit defeat and just pay for your lemonade.

on the other side of the window, where city lights gleam as the sun begins to dip below the horizon, bakugo is walking home from patrol. his eyes wander, taking in the scenery with each of his steps. it’s by chance that his gaze turns to the very restaurant you’re in, and even more of a coincidence that he notices you with the way your cheek is smooshed against your hand.

he had planned on going straight home after finishing up for the day but the mere sight of you has him making a detour to join you inside.

you’re just about to consider flagging down a waiter when a commotion erupts at the entrance. if it had been ten minutes ago when you were still eager about your date, you would have turned around to see what everyone was clamoring over. instead, you sigh, hoping that it won’t be too long until you see someone who can give you your bill.

you squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to drown out the noise but your effort is for nothing as patrons and staff alike continue to animatedly “ooh” and “aah” at the person’s arrival. the cherry on top of your already forming headache comes in the form of a chair scraping across the floor; much too close for it to be anywhere other than your table.

thinking it’s your overdue date by what has grown to be twenty minutes, a bitter protest bubbles up in your throat—something about how he’s already wasted enough of your time and you don’t have any more to spend on him. although, it dies on your tongue when you open your eyes and see a familiar head of sandy blonde hair and a set of piercing scarlet eyes. you breathe out a breath you didn’t know you were holding upon seeing the man across from you.

“someone’s awfully dressed up to eat unaccompanied,” bakugo starts, propping his elbow up on the table to replicate yours. he takes in your outfit; more formal than anything you’d usually wear but less than what he recalls you putting together for any of the UA dances when the two of you attended. if he had to guess, bakugo would conclude that he interrupted a date.

“yeah, well, i wasn’t supposed to be here alone,” you tell him, flicking your straw.

you’re dressed for the occasion, that much is sure, but something about your air is off to bakugo. he watches quietly as you aimlessly play with your straw. your eyes are turned down, like if you look up and meet his, he’ll see something you’re trying to hide. it clicks only a second later and the lax expression bakugo’s wearing is traded in for a frown. “your date didn’t come?”

“nope,” you pop the p and give your straw one final flick before pushing the glass away and sitting back in your chair. now that the cat’s out of the bag, you finally find the courage to look the man in the eyes. it’s strange, you think, that all of those negative emotions that you were drowning in only a moment ago don’t feel as suffocating now. the only thing that’s changed since is bakugo’s presence. you can’t put your finger on it, but him simply being here has made you feel a little better.

“asshole,” bakugo mumbles under his breath, though it’s loud enough that you can hear it. it almost makes you smile.

bakugo crosses his arms. he had originally come in to poke fun at you and maybe get a look at the guy you had come with but he’s glad that he missed the punk, and for more reasons than one. he’s sure that if he saw him now, his name would be making headlines for assaulting a civilian. although, somehow the thought of seeing him with you happy and joking—having a good time is even worse to katsuki.

there’s an itchy feeling in the back of bakugo’s throat as he thinks about why that is. it’s something he’s known for a while, at least since the two of you graduated, but something he has yet to confront; at least with you. he’s acknowledged these feelings that venture beyond friendliness himself, though, and he finds this part a bit pathetic, he hasn’t come clean about them to you.

maybe that’s because he isn’t as courageous as he paints himself out to be or maybe it’s because there’s a little piece of him that feels as though he isn’t good enough for you. but his glimpse of how poorly you were treated tonight is all it takes to convince him that he could do so much better, and you deserve as much.

with a newfound resolve, bakugo clears his throat. “have you looked at the menu?”

your eyes flit to the menu at the center of the table before that dart back up to your companion’s face. he doesn’t look upset like he had earlier on your behalf. you had scanned over the menu a few times during the delay but instead of saying so, you ask, “why?”

“because, i’m going to give you the date that prick couldn’t.”

whether it’s the declaration itself or the person it’s coming from, you aren’t sure, but your heart skips a beat with katsuki’s words. it’s a gesture you can’t see him doing for many others and that fact alone warms your cheeks. still, you can’t be positive that he meant in a romantic sense, the way you had taken it. as embarrassing as it is to ask, you’d rather be on the same page than get your hopes up over a chummy attempt at cheering you up. “um, like a date as friends or…”

“an actual date,” katsuki clarifies. he can’t quite tell if your eyes are widened in pleasant surprise or partial horror. the last thing he wants to do is make you uncomfortable, even if that means humiliating himself. so he adds, “if you’re okay with that.”

for the first time since you sat down, a genuine smile pulls at your lips. you were sure this night wouldn’t turn around but you’re starting to think this is a better outcome than you could have hoped for. because, unbeknownst to katsuki, each of your failed dates have been placeholders for the one you’ve truly wanted—him.

“yeah,” you nod, “i’m okay with that.”

thanks for reading! consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed ❤︎

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bakugo fluff #mha fluff #bnha fluff #bakugo drabble #mha drabbles #bnha drabble #mha imagines #mha scenarios

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xluverihu · 2 months

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flurry heart grown up

#flurry heart #mlp #alicorn

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monocaelia · 2 years

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lingering touches

their touch, softer than the petal of a rose, grazes your skin; a silent "i love you." aka intimate moments shared with them.

feat. childe. diluc. kazuha. thoma. xiao. zhongli.

genre : fluff

note : this is for you kitty <3

❀ CHILDE

it's rare for childe to stay in for the mornings as fatui business is always calling for him. he's a busy man, what can he say? being a harbinger isn't all fun and games, especially when all of his free time is taken away from him and he hardly gets any time to visit home or visit you.

so mornings like this, where childe gets to sleep in with you, are something that you cherish as much as you can.

you're up before your lover, a rather rare occasion considering how light and little he sleeps. the birds sing their morning tunes and the gentle crashing of the waves against the harbor fill the silence in your shared bedroom.

your tired eyes gaze at the sleeping man in front of you. it wouldn't be long before he noticed that you weren't sleeping as well and would wake up, but you hope that he stayed asleep for just a while longer. he deserves it.

his lashes are long and rest against the skin underneath his eyes, hiding the deep blue ocean that hold so much love and adoration for you. freckles dust your lover's face, showering his pale skin in faint spots across his cheeks and nose and to his bare shoulders. if you could, you would kiss every single one of them in hopes that he could finally feel the love that blossoms from your chest for him.

subconsciously, your fingers trace the scars that line his muscular arms; a reward for every single battle that he has won. you remember the early days when you had just met him when he would come to you all bloodied and bruised. you had scolded him for being such an idiot for fighting until he was nearly on the edge of death, but he had simply stared at you with a triumphant smile on his face.

childe is an idiot, really, who acts without ever thinking about the consequences when it comes to his body and his endurance. but you suppose that's part of his charm... or lack thereof.

your lover stirs beside you, causing you to pause your fingers on his freckled skin. the deep blue ocean stares back at you, sleep evident in his gaze and in his fatigued smile.

childe mumbles a sleepy "morning" to you before leaning forwards to steal a morning kiss from you, much to your dismay. your finger blocks his lips from nearing you any further and you feel the pout pressing into your skin.

"sorry, lover boy, but i don't want to kiss you when we both have morning breath," you tell him, holding back your laughter when he visibly deflates. "instead, how about this?"

you gently press a kiss onto childe's nose, watching in delight as he brightens up from your affection. fits of laughter escape your lips when you feel the harbinger kiss the tip of your nose in return followed by a flurry of kisses that dust your cheeks and the side of your head. your hand buries itself into a sea of orange when your lover nuzzles himself into the side of your face.

the remainder of your morning is spent buried in each other's arms, neither one wanting to move and ruin the peace that remained in the safety of your shared bedroom.

❀ DILUC

despite the rumors floating around about how the uncrowned king of mondstadt had grown colder throughout the years, you refused to believe so. it's easy to be swept up in the thoughts of the general public, their hushed, gossiping whispers flood the streets regardless of where you go.

but you know diluc. you know how socially awkward he really is and how much idle small talk makes his skin crawl. sometimes, you purposefully initiate small talk with him just to see his frown deepen. it's funny knowing how something so harmless can bother the wall of stone that you hold close to your heart regardless of how many times he denies it in public.

it's especially hard to agree with those rumors when every night, when your lover has finished his nightly routine of surveying the grounds of mondstadt, diluc comes home and nearly collapses from exhaustion into your arms.

your fingers skillfully undo his ponytail and slip the mask off of his face before they delve into his fiery strands. his hair is surprisingly soft and the smell of his shampoo wafts into your senses, herbal and earthy with a hint of grapes, though you suppose that comes from his line of work.

you nearly coo when your lover melts into your touch.

"long night, huh?" you ask, brushing your finger against his cheek. he buries his face into the crook of your neck, causing a soft chuckle to escape your lips. "that bad?"

diluc doesn't answer and instead tightens his grip around your waist. you laugh again, but ultimately decide to push the topic to the side. there's no use in forcing him to talk.

"i'm glad you came home safe, dear," you whisper into his hair and press a gentle kiss to the top of his head. "i love you so much."

again, he doesn't reply. but you feel the soft, loving press of his lips against your neck; a silent way of telling you that he shares the same sentiment.

❀ KAZUHA

although kazuha was a rather new addition to the crux, nobody seemed to mind his presence on the ship. rather, his help to the crew has been greatly welcomed and captain beidou had become even more boisterous when he slowly began to open up.

the soft glow of the moonlight casts the crux in a gentle, silvery glow. you gaze out into the open sea at the horizon where the cerulean waves meet the twinkling stars.

"i thought i'd find you here," kazuha's soft voice is carried with the wind, startling you. the wandering traveller steps beside you, leaning against the railing and meeting your gaze.

there's a moment of comfortable silence that settles between the two of you, neither making a move to say anything and choosing to enjoy each other's company in the silence of the night. the gentle rocking of the boat eases your mind.

"are you sure you're ready to return to inazuma?" you ask, shifting your gaze from the sea to his. solemn ruby eyes meet your gaze, and although he was smiling there was a hint of sadness to it.

"nobody is truly ready to face their traumas, but the wind always guides me to my next path," kazuha shifts his gaze up towards the moon. "besides, my friends are calling for me. they need me, and who am i to deny their request for help?"

your heart leaps to your throat at his selfless words. truly, the wandering traveller is filled with surprises that render you speechless.

"kazu-" your words are cut short when the crux is hit with a particularly big wave, shaking the boat and causing you to lose your footing. the railing is just a bit too far for you to hold on to, much to your dismay, and you close your eyes, preparing to meet the wooden floor that makes up the crux's deck.

however, the scent of maple surrounds you and an arm quickly wraps around your waist. instead of the hard flooring, you're met with a warm chest and kazuha's shocked expression a mere inches away from your own.

he's beautiful up close; such a dainty and pretty face that contrasts the muscular arm holding you close to him and the firm chest that you're held to. his eyelashes are long, you notice, and his eyes are widen open, much akin to a small white rabbit that you've seen before in the woods.

it is then that something clicks inside the traveller's brain and he steadies you back onto the deck. he pulls away from you and you already miss the warmth that was shared between the two of you just moments before.

however, you don't miss the way his hand lingers around yours; the ghost of his touch brushing against your skin every now and then for the remainder of your time shared on the deck of the crux.

❀ THOMA

the bustling streets of inazuma city aren't ideal for having a brisk walk through, especially when it's time for the morning markets and all the aunties are rushing through the city streets to get the finest and freshest produce before they're too late.

...which so happens to be why you're here this fine morning. you had wanted to go shopping with your lover for some time now, but this wasn't exactly what you had in mind. you suppose spending time with him regardless of what you two were doing would be fine... if you hadn't gotten separated by the swarm of people rushing to shop in the morning market.

you huff, tracing your finger against the wooden table outside komore teahouse. trying to find him amidst the swarm of the elderly folk would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack; a really handsome and lovely needle in a haystack of old people, and it would be nearly impossible for you to shove through a sea of old people.

you've tried it before and it didn't go well. all you can remember from the last time you tried to do that was nearly causing a scene and having to fistfight an elderly auntie because she thought you were cutting in line for the freshest vegetables in the stand in front of you.

you sigh, eyes looking up ahead in hopes of seeing your lover come and rescue you from the komore tea house.

"oh! there you are!" the familiar timbre of thoma's voice perks you up immediately and your eyes quickly find your blond boyfriend jogging towards you with groceries in his hand. "i've been looking everywhere for you, i'm sorry we got separated."

"i'm just relieved you found me. i don't know what i would have done if you left to the kamisato estate without me," you joke, but the both of you know you would have cried if he left you behind.

"luckily for you, i know how to solve this problem so we won't ever have to be apart again," thoma announces. soon after, his free hand slips down towards your own. the warmth of his palm encases your own and his fingers intertwine with yours, squeezing your hand slightly.

your lover sends a warm smile your way before pulling your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss along your knuckles. he lingers there for just a moment before pulling away, much to the dismay of your erratic heartbeat hammering against your chest at this moment.

❀ XIAO

the distant chirping of birds fills the space surrounding the lone yaksha and his lover. the sun shines brightly overhead, its rays hidden in between the leaves of the gingko tree they rest underneath.

eyes of gold peer down at your sleeping face, taking in every detail of the peacefulness that lies on your visage.

he finds it funny, really. your original plan had been to force the lone yaksha to take a nap after overhearing that sleep hardly ever comes to him. the determined look on your face never wavered, not even when your hand encased his wrist and dragged him towards the elevator of the wangshu inn.

"sleep is useless for an adeptus like me," xiao tried to argue with you, but you weren't having any of his excuses.

"oh hush, you. even gods need to rest once in a while," you bicker back, sending your boyfriend a stern glare. "besides, liyue isn't going to end up in flames because you decided to rest this one time."

and yet, despite your efforts in trying to get xiao to rest, you ended up being the one to succumb to slumber underneath the swaying gingko tree. your head rests against xiao's lap, lips slightly parted as peaceful dreams drift behind your closed eyes.

you're beautiful, xiao muses to himself, even when you're past the realm of consciousness.

he finds himself smiling at the mere sight of you, at the mere thought of you possibly dreaming about the two of you. was it selfish of him to hope that you were? did he deserve to have a place beside you in both reality and the world in your subconsious?

the yaksha doesn't know the answer to that, but he knows where you stand in his own heart and how important you are to him. you, the few who showed him compassion despite his many attempts to push you away to ensure your safety. you, who welcomed him with open arms and tended to his wounds when he nearly succumbed to the sweet embrace of death after the tolls of his karmic debt was too much to bear.

xiao's hands carefully move to cup your sleeping face in his hands. his hands that you love to hold and kiss despite the blood that has tainted him. his thumbs gently rub at your cheeks, caressing the skin with so much fragility.

he loves you so much, sometimes the weight of his heart overwhelms him when he is with you. the heart is a heavy burden and it's one he doesn't mind bearing if it's with you.

❀ ZHONGLI

excitement flutters in your chest as you slip on the attire you've prepared for this evening. there has been a play that you've been dying to see for ages now and luckily the heyu teahouse was hosting the event for the showing of the play, rather they were going to perform it themselves.

and fortunately for you, your doting lover had reserved a spot near the stage just for the two of you to enjoy.

when zhongli had given you the news regarding the reservation for it, you nearly kissed that man to death. leaping into his arms, he barely had enough time to catch you before you were smothering his face in the kisses he deserved.

your fingers smooth the fabric of your top before reaching behind you to fasten the remaining buttons of your shirt.

however, your lover beats you to it. his gloved fingers gently nudge your fingers away, then begin to button them for you. your skin flushes when his fingers brush against the skin of your back.

"there, that should do it," the low timbre of zhongli's voice rumbles against his chest. warmth fills you from head to toe when you feel his lips against the shell of your ear, a soft kiss pressed onto your skin and another to the side of your head. "are you ready?"

you turn around and face your lover. he's handsome, more so than he usually is. his hair is tied back in its usual ponytail, but he has a hairpin made of pure cor lapis that ties a part of his fringe back; a gift from you months ago on your anniversary. he's smiling at you with the warmth of a thousand suns.

"before we leave, how do i look this fine evening?" you ask him, showing off the outfit you chose for this specific night.

you had expected him to just laugh and compliment you, as he usually does. but his lips part slightly, then close as he changes his mind on what to say.

zhongli takes a step towards you and one of his hand comes up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. however, his hand lingers beside your face and instead cups the side of your face, gently cradling your jaw in his palm. his thumb brushes against your cheek, pulling you forward to press a light kiss on your forehead.

"you're just as beautiful as the day i fell in love with you, my dearest," zhongli coos. "even the brightest ore fails in beauty when compared to you. should there be a day we part ways in this lifetime, your light will guide me to you once more in the next, my sweet dove."

#genshin #genshin impact #childe x reader #childe drabbles #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia drabbles #diluc x reader #diluc drabbles #thoma x reader #thoma drabbles #kazuha x reader #kazuha drabbles #xiao x reader #xiao drabbles #zhongli drabbles #zhongli x reader #genshin x reader #genshin drabbles #didi writes

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d1xonss · 5 months

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About Masterlist:

~ Currently I am only writing for the character Daryl Dixon from The Walking Dead. But I’m likely to write for others later on down the road.

~ Genres very from fluff to angst

~ My main focus right now is the story I’m writing called Desert Rose which, as of now, is still incomplete.

~ New updates will (hopefully) be weekly.

~ I never have any good ideas for oneshots so I’ll be taking any requests people send me!

~ Most oneshots will be mainly female readers unless requested otherwise.

Fluff ~ 🧸

Angst ~ 🖤

Suggestive ~ 👀

Smut ~ 💋

Series!!<3

~ Desert Rose (ongoing) 🧸💋🖤👀

Series Masterlist Seasons 1-5

Series Masterlist Seasons 6-11 (coming soon)

Oneshots (coming soon…maybe??)

Oneshots!!<3

~ Enchanting 🧸

Summary : After Daryl meets you at a dreaded get together in Alexandria, his mind is constantly flooded with the thoughts of you. When months go by and he still hasn’t made a move, someone gives him just the nudge he needs.

~ Potions 🧸

Summary : One night when you’re in the middle of your skincare routine, your boyfriend Daryl suddenly becomes intrigued.

~ Chicken Soup for the Soul 🧸

Summary : When Daryl returns home from a longer run, you notice quickly he had come down with something. It takes a little convincing, but eventually, he allows you to take care of him.

~ Don’t Go 🖤

Summary : After returning from a run, Daryl quickly finds out that you had been severely injured while he was gone. The sight of you was heartbreaking, but the thought of losing you forever was even more painful.

~ Older 👀

Summary : When confessing your feelings for Daryl after keeping them bottled up inside for so long, he ultimately rejects you. But you somehow find a way to make him regret it.

~ Older | Part 2 💋

Summary : Things only grow more tense between you and Daryl as you meet for dinner to “discuss” what’s been happening between the two of you.

~ Sunshine 🧸

Summary : Daryl has always been somewhat of a serious man, taking everything going wrong around him to heart as he stewed over them constantly. But lucky for him, you’re always around to cheer him up.

~ A Friend 🧸

Summary : Working and dealing with the walkers outside the fences one day had grown to be too much as you desperately needed to get away from the noise. When you found something else to occupy your time, you slowly realize how boring it became. But luckily, Daryl’s able to keep you company.

~ Bedtime Stories 🧸

Summary : You and Daryl stumble into a library after being chased by a herd of walkers, forcing the two of you to stay hidden in the building for a long while. Though amongst the chaos, a sweet moment seems to unfold between the two of you.

~ Pretty When I Cry 🖤🧸

Summary : From the very start you had been struggling to have a decent relationship with the Dixon brothers. Trying your best to show your kindness since they arrived. But one day Daryl seems to snap after an incident, sending you spiraling in a flurry of emotions. However, he manages to venture back and pick up the pieces he’s broken.

~ Forever 🖤🧸

Summary : For months now, Daryl has found himself going down a deep rabbit hole of the thoughts in which he cannot escape. His insecurities about his age and your relationship is all he’s able to ponder over. But in the end, you make a promise to stick around forever.

~ Sticks and Stones 🧸

Summary : After arriving in the brand new community, you quickly find it’s not exactly what it chalked up to be. An incident occurs, causing you to snap. But Daryl just so happens to be at the right place at the right time.

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mikareo · 5 months

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“ ࣭⸰ ★ WHEN SPRING COMES . . . ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀呪術廻戦 ; megumi fushiguro x fem reader

⊹ ⠀⠀ your love for megumi can be compared to a snowflake; delicate and beautiful, stunning and unique. however, spring is coming— and eventually, all snowflakes have to melt. (1.2k)

contains; hanahaki au, rejection, angst, implied death author's note; this is 2 years old pls forgive me,, n hanahaki used to be my favorite trope IM SORRY I POST IT SM ajskl

it’s been over a decade, fifteen years really, of the never-ending winter that you’ve grown so accustomed to. the settled snow has been your comfort zone, a weighted blanket tying you down to his presence since primary school, freezing the ribbon that tied your heart to his for eternity— though only now, you realize that ribbon is a chain, shackling you to a hopeless series of unrequited feelings that could never be returned. you’ve imprisoned yourself to an idea of love that never was. love that you viewed as your personal one-of-a kind snowflake between the two of you; something special and passionate with no barriers or boundaries, which softly flurried around you for your entire lives...

...but snowflakes melt when they touch the ground.

the soft powder is nothing but water now; dirtied water on the blood-ridden pavement, speckled with pink petals of a flower that you used to love. the snowflake is dying. it’s dead. and spring has come.

“tilt your head up,” megumi murmurs with the softest, most lovely voice you’ve ever heard. “you’ve still got some on your chin.”

he’s being generous with his words. you know your skin is stained red, dripping with blood and broken leaves that refuse to be wiped away. luckily for you, he tells you that red is his favorite color— that the scarlet shade compliments your complexion and makes you look beautiful— but you know he’s lying.

the deep clots and black chunks would send anyone into a nauseous fit, he’s too kind to you.

you wish he would be horrible. that he’d hurdle insulting comments, awful remarks, and unforgivable curses— but he’d never.

— and you love him for that.

it’s too bad that he doesn’t feel the same.

he never has.

he never will.

“does that feel alright?” his washcloth is cold and damp. it’s a muddied mahogany after previously being a gorgeous forrest green. “it’s still warm, right?”

you nod, believing that one more lie won’t hurt your already dreadful situation. “i think you’ve got it all,” the reflection before you is one you recognize, a person of the past that you can’t seem to let go of no matter how many hours you spend wishing them away. “thank you, really.”

despite the normal appearance you now display, with rose-tinted cheeks and swollen eyes, there’s a garden growing in the sink. vines slithering their way down the drain as the water stream attempts to rid them from view. torn tulip petals are strewn across the bathroom floor, and in another life perhaps it would have been romantic to see a flower petal pathway leading towards the bedroom— that’s not your life though. you’ve been left with emptiness and a void of feelings with no return.

“i’m always here to hold your hair back, i hope you know that.” he smiles with kindness, a genuine goodness that can only be portrayed by him. he’s the best person you know. there’s no mystery as to why you fell for him all those years ago, and why that love has followed you through adulthood. “it’s almost pretty…y’know, in a morbid way.”

hm, funny. morbidly beautiful.

“yeah,” you reply in a snap. “maybe they can be my funeral flowers.”

you've made him angry.

“don’t even joke about that, what the hell?” megumi always gets upset when you say those type of things. his vision turns red and he’s blinded by his own sadness that he forgets that he’s the cause— he’s the calamity that uprooted your formally blissful life. he’s the one who fell in love with someone new.

winter could’ve lasted forever had he not gone to class that day.

it could raged onwards had he not met her.

you could’ve been hand-in-hand dancing beneath the moonlight on a snowy eve if she hadn’t asked for directions to the library. his kisses could’ve been peppering your face rather than hers if only you’d been more fun, more outgoing, more persuasive, more everything, then maybe he would’ve stayed.

but megumi didn’t stay...

...he left.

he left as the leaves grew on the barren trees and pollen drifted through the breeze. he said his brief goodbyes to your heart while his chased her’s in yearning. he didn’t so much as glance your way as the hanahaki roots planted themselves in your heart— only choosing to show concern after they’d already grown terminal. he disappeared from your point of view before you could even acknowledge his absence— which was and continues to be unfair.

megumi was yours and now he isn’t. it’s as simple as that. as awful and simple as that.

“we both know i’m dying.” you murmur, hands folded together as if they're the only things you have left to hang onto. you wish one of those hands could find their place in his warm palm, but the black marker ink etched onto his skin in the shapes of mini hearts and smiley faces are more than enough to drive you away. “there’s no point in denying it anymore. i can barely breathe.”

he shakes his head, backing away from you despite your obvious need for physical comfort.

you thought he knew you better than that. you thought he’d know exactly how to ease your pain, but he doesn’t. he’s very clearly not your soulmate, but for some reason your heart tells you otherwise.

“you’d be able to if you’d just get the surgery,” he says. “please.”

he's begging for something he could solve.

megumi's eyes look dark under the overhead light. “please don’t make me have to see you in a casket.”

the surgery in which the roots are removed from your heart is a tricky one. a procedure that many endure and survive, where they get to continue living their lives healthy and happy— though, are they truly living if they’re void of the love that once consumed them?

“i wouldn’t be able to live with myself, you know that.” your voice is firm, after having had this conversation many times before, “i’d know a part of me was missing. you’re too important for me to just…erase.”

if you’re being completely honest with yourself, you’d rather remain in your eternal winter for the rest of your soul’s existence. yes, it’s cold and dreary, with little to no sunlight and hope of a new love or progression in your relationship with him— but it’s familiar. you find it comfortable and there’s no fear in the feelings that you’re already so accustomed to living with everyday. the thought of spring is terrifying. the season following your beloved winter that represents rebirth and new blossoming love is one that you’ll never come to know— which is completely by choice. there’s no point in limping yourself towards spring when there’s no one you’d rather love than megumi.

these hanahaki tulips won’t see the sunshine they yearn for when the grass regains its color. they’ll simply wither away with you and the lock that refuses to fall, holding your feelings for him in an eternal slumber that will never be woken.

“i love you.” you say, whilst knowing that that’s the last thing he wants to hear. “i love you so much.”

your confessions of love are a reminder of your little time left, and he hates it.

he wishes it would all stop; but it can’t and it won’t.

perhaps he should’ve given you a chance when the opportunity arose. then you may have been happy. however, he knows that there’s no forcing love.

you’ve been doomed since the moment you’d laid eyes on him.

love isn't your happiness.

“i’ve only ever loved you.”

it's your demise.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⊹₊｡ reblogs are greatly appreciated! ˚₊⊹

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strawhbrrries · 11 months

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Three gifts and a kiss

pairing: reader x softish!joel miller

summary: three gifts and a kiss is all it took for you to break the walls around Joel Miller’s heart.

warnings: implied age gap (never mentioned), use of pet names (darlin’), straight fluff, no use of Y/N *please let me know if i forgot anything*

author’s note: this is my first real writing piece, outside of fanfic i wrote on wattpad when i was twelve, so please be kind with criticism! as much as i love smut i was too nervous to write it for my first post so i hope the fluff does justice. i really do hope you enjoy it! *not proofread*

word count: 2145 words

“Shh. Stop your fussing. I am just braiding your hair.” You teased, separating the three strands of hair you were overlapping into more organized strands to work with.

“It hurts!” Ellie whined, laying her head back in your lap to emphasize her point, bringing one her hands up to rub the side of her head to soothe the pain she swore up and down was the worst thing she ever felt.

Ellie was sat on the floor in between your legs reading whatever she had picked up off the end table when she came barging in your house demanding for her hair to be branded, something about how she had never learned and needed to be taught. Which was a big load of bullshit, as proved by the fact you were just braiding her hair and she wasn’t learning shit, well only half a load of bullshit as she truly had never learned.

Jackson wasn’t necessarily a boring place for you before Ellie and Joel showed up, but it wasn’t the most entertaining either. Bartending has its perks but outside of it, all the days blended together and were a never ending boring hell. The foul mouthed child made your days way more interesting, finding every excuse under the sun to find her way into your home. Not that you minded, but a knock would be nice every now and then. You enjoyed her company more than you expected when Tommy informed you that the empty house next door would be filled. You had actual friends your age, but most had adult responsibilities that started earlier in the day than yours did, besides Ellie being over occasionally meant Joel visiting to bring her home. Those were your favorite days.

The first time you ever met the infamous Joel Miller, is forever ingrained in your mind. His footsteps rattling through the house and the deepness of his voice as he called out for Ellie, you mentally noted that he was the reason she never knocked.

“In here Joel!” Ellie called out from your bedroom just up the stairs, giving you a look that expressed all her frustration of him just showing up.

“C’mon, dinners ready.” His voice carried through the house, not once had he really raised his voice since he showed up. His footsteps on the stairs sent her into a flurry to grab her things and go.

The two finger knock on the door captured your attention, never in your twenty years of living had you seen a man so attractive and he became so much more attractive the second he nodded his head in your direction. You knew it had been a long time when such a simple action made warmth flood your body.

“I’ll see you later, Ellie, hopefully the garden will be a bit more grown in soon so we can mess around in it !” You smiled, smoothing out the shirt you were wearing to try and make yourself more presentable for your unexpected handsome visitor. “It’s Joel, right?”

“Yeah, sorry it took so long to meet.” He spoke back, no emotion present. You added to your, short, mental notes about the man that he seemed almost robotic.

“‘s okay. Ellie said you’ve been pretty busy, I enjoy having her around. It was nice to meet you!” You spoke enthusiastically to try and elicit a response from him but all he did was nod his head out the door and left with Ellie trailing behind him. A frown and disappointment soon took over the warmth he had originally brought.

Joel never went out of his way to acknowledge you, sure he nodded his head every time you served him at the bar but unlike your other regulars he had no interest in your stories and new recipes. However, you always went out of your way to acknowledge him in subtle ways; always sending some leftovers home with Ellie, leaving a brand new guitar on his porch after Ellie told you he had broken his other one (admittedly, not your most subtle move), and a record of Linda Ronstadt with the words “I don’t need this back :)” scribbled on a piece of paper taped to it.

The leftovers he appreciated, not that he ever expressed his gratitude to you about it. They were nice after a long shift on patrol, especially so because he didn’t have to cook nor did he have to interact with people at the mess hall. He spoke more to you, kinder to you, after you started sending leftovers home with Ellie. You found him, much like Ellie, barging in more often and on one occasion found him in your garden inspecting the produce you had planted for the season.

“You’ve got weeds.” He’d mumble, as if he was genius of the year for that observation. “Prolly some bugs too.” Joel placed a hand on his knee and got up off the ground, standing awkwardly as he had previously planned to have been gone before you caught him here.

“By all means, if you can find insecticide that won’t cost me a fortune I would be forever indebted to you.” A chuckle slipped out at the thought that THE Joel Miller was in your garden going on about weeds. Life was weird sometimes. Your words earned you the first smile you’ve seen from the man, you thought about it every night from then on out. Joel, unbeknownst to you, thought of your giggle and the pretty blue sundress you had been wearing when you stumbled upon him every night.

The guitar, that one stirred up some trouble in the imaginary relationship you thought was going on with you and Mr. Miller. Ellie had come to help you cook and also gossip about Joel, you didn’t mind either, when he came storming in the house. You and Ellie exchanged a knowing look, but neither could’ve predicted the storm that was going to brew.

“Ellie. Go home.” His voice was low and his face mean. Everyone knew Joel Miller was a mean man but to be the person it was directed at, even worse.

“Wha- I’m just helping!” Ellie tried to plead her case, motioning to the half cut vegetables she was cutting.

“Go.”

Ellie, reluctantly, left which left you with the seething older man standing in your kitchen. Instead of speaking, you simply turned around to the vegetables Ellie just left and started chopping in hopes that maybe he would leave and you didn’t have to be the brunt of whatever anger he had about something you didn’t even know about!

“What did you trade.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement and he expected an answer about point five seconds ago.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.” Also not a question, also a statement, most certainly a lie. You knew exactly what he was asking about, it was an act of kindness and you didn’t want to be scolded for caring about him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, leaned over the kitchen table that sat in between the two of you and let out a sigh. “Let's cut to the chase, darlin’. What the fuck did you trade. Don’t fuck with me either ‘cus I know you’re smarter than that.”

“What I did or did not trade for the guitar is not your business, I was being nice, Joel. Hard for you to get used to, I know.” Your words came out a bit harsher than intended, you weren’t trying to be rude all you had intended to do was give him a new guitar after his had broken.

Instead of a rebuttal all you heard was his boots hitting the floor and the slam of your front door. You were too angry to cry, all you had tried to do was be kind. Had he been embarrassed? Embarrassed about what, that someone cares for him? You were too angry to chop, the fear of accidentally cutting off a finger was a bit too real at the moment, so you settled for half the usual vegetables.

You still put leftovers on his porch. No amount of anger, and sadness for what occurred, would stop you from caring about him.

He didn’t speak to you for eight days. Never showed up to coax Ellie home. Stopped playing his, new, guitar on the porch. For eight days he gave you the cold shoulder, it sucked. He only caved on the eighth day when he overheard your boss mention you had called out of work three days in a row, he couldn’t figure out why he cared but he did. He knocked on your door four times before you opened it.

“You look like shit.” His words robotic as ever.

“If you came to be rude, leave.” Your response was weak and quiet, your skin pale and visibly clammy. You had stressed yourself sick.

“What happened?” He brought his hand to your forehead and immediately felt the heat, surprised you hadn’t melted yet.

For the first time in over twenty years, Joel had taken care of someone. He slept in the uncomfortable chair that sat in the corner of your bedroom, refusing the bed or the couch. He reheated meals and even made some of his own to make sure you were fed, and hydrated. For the first time since you met, you felt that he truly cared. He even let his guard down enough to, begrudgingly almost so much he could’ve convinced someone he was forced to do it, lay with you when the blankets weren’t enough to fight off the shivers. Ellie teased him in the privacy of their home that he was developing a crush, and he was.

The Linda Ronstadt record was your most genius idea. When you had first met Ellie, she mentioned a cassette her and Joel listened to when they were first driving out here. You asked for the artist and her exact words were “I don't know. Linda blah blah blah.” The guitar incident was long forgotten so you figured gifts were pretty safe now. A coworker had mentioned trading a few records for some home cooked meals, and the stars aligned so perfectly that one of them happened to be the exact record Ellie had spoken about (or so you hoped).

Joel frequented your place more often, he found your company more appealing than his own, and you enjoyed it more than you let on. You had Ellie leave the record somewhere in his room to find after his patrol shift.

The now familiar sound of Joel’s boots hitting the floor as he took them off filled your living room. However, he was supposed to be on patrol and definitely not here in your house holding a Linda Ronstadt record.

“Darlin’ what’s with the gift?” He asked softly, or as soft as he possibly could. His body finding comfort next to yours on the couch, plucking the note you wrote off the record and tucking it away into the pocket of his flannel.

“Ellie said you liked her, someone at work was gettin’ rid of it. Figured you might like it.” A smile making itself home on your face, he thought it was the prettiest smile he’d ever seen. He’d gone soft.

“I don’t own a record player sweet girl.”

“You’ll have to visit more then. Or! Let me give you one!”

“I’ll just let you have it, hopefully the lyrics haven’t left my brain just yet and I can teach ‘em to ya.” He placed the record on the end table next to him and placed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Can’t believe I was such a hard ass on you, sweetest thing to ever grace my life.”

“I knew you’d come around eventually.” Looking up at him softly and caressing his cheek before placing the gentlest of kisses to his lips. “Thought you were supposed to be on patrol anyway.”

“Got someone to switch with me after I saw the record, had to come see my girl.” Joel responded, placing a kiss on your lips before trailing his thumb along your bottom lip.

Three gifts and a kiss is all it took for you to break the walls around Joel Miller’s heart. The leftovers no longer found their way onto his porch, as eventually it became your porch and the leftovers found themselves in a new fridge. The guitar was played and used to teach Ellie how to play, you often spent evenings on the porch listening to someone strum it. The record was always on repeat when Joel was home, until he accidentally dropped it on the floor consequently covering it in scratches unable to be played. As for the kisses, they never stopped and each one filled your body with butterflies that could burst out at any moment.

#joel miller #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #joel miller fluff #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #pedro x reader #pedropascal #maddies fics

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