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cherriesformatt · 3 months

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waiting || chris sturniolo

chrisxfem!reader

summary: when reader and chris are about to become parents

warnings: fluff

word count: 2k

a/n: My first story for Chris who cheers 🫢 I did not proof read yet! I hope you like it ❤️ Thank you for the request.

🍒

I was nervously checking the test every second sitting on a closed toilet seat. Chris was staring at it too while sitting on the bathtub edge. We had some scares before, but this one? This one felt a little too real.

We were in Boston for few days now and his mom made her famous shepherd's pie that I loved so much. But it just made me sick and I just have been feeling very weird lately and with my period late it just could mean one thing.

And let me tell you, both of us just looked like we saw a ghost. We have been laughing when Matt and Tilly had an accident - that oops great it wasn't us. Their daughter was born few weeks ago and we are here because they brought her to meet whole family.

But here we fucking go. Two red lines on both of the tests I was holding.

"Fuck...." I heavily breathed out.

I looked at Chris and he looked at me and also let the air out of his lungs as he held his breath for a little. He took his hat of to fix his hair and he put it back on. He put his hand on my thigh.

"I cannot believe this.. I wanna say it's karma but that would be a little mean" He said.

His tone was so calm that it actually made my crazy because I wanted to scream.

"We were teasing them for whole nine months so there we go hun.... our time to shine" I said and hid my face in my hands.

"y/n.... We got this, okay? I know I am a fucking big baby...and you had different plans but... we got this. Anything you decide to do....we got this" He hugged me tight to his body.

Of course I wanted to keep the baby. It was no other choices for me. We have been together for almost two year. I love Chris so much but we just came to the path that we were very happy just two of us. We had a rocky first year awith both of us having trust and commitment issues it wasn't easy and now I will have to share him with our baby.

"I know we do..." I said into his neck.

We didn't tell anyone on this trip because we waned this time to be only Matt's and Tilli's attention spot. But we did tell them right after we came back to LA. Jimmy and Marylou were with us because they wanted to help out with little Noa.

Me and Chris were both lazy souls and we were too overwhelmed to come up with like a cute idea to tell everyone. We just decided to do it.

"So...Noa is going to be a big cousin...surprise!" Chris said when we were all at the dinner table at Matt's house.

"What the fuck are you saying bro?" Matt looked at him with wide eyes.

'I am pregnant" I said looking at him and smiled a little.

"Was that like planned? Is it my turn too? What is this?" Nick laughed.

"Believe me it was not...."I said quietly.

"y/n honey... thats why you were so under the weather in Boston... sweats congratulations" Their mom hugged my tight.

Jimmy hugged Chis too and we just answered all the questions they had before Tilly took me and gave me all the advices and have me her pregnancy stuff she had packed to give away.

Other than the first few weeks the pregnancy was very easy on me. Chris was there for every appointment and he seemed to be really exited. I knew how he loved watching his brother becoming a father but I didn't know he is going to be that much happy about being one as well right now.

I was happy too, we made a space, we were stable, we could make the best for the baby. But we were also very young and that was just scary.

"Nick... I am not doing anything weird, can we just like.. go to the beach? On sunset... I do not need any dresses or flowers. I just need Chris and we should take Matt, Tilly and Noa for the photoshoot" I said to the oldest triplet.

"Okay, okay I knew you will going to say that.... You and Chris are just so basic... " He said.

I asked him to take our pregnancy photos, so we could have it for ourselves.

"If you would ask Chris I am pretty sure he would want our pregnancy photo shoot on Summer Smash stage with Lil Skies" I laughed.

He did as well because he knew I was right. Nick and I were alone at his house because Chris and Matt were gone to the festival. It took me and Tilly two weeks to convince them to go. They were very overprotecting of us. Matt said he would go when they will go to Chicago with him so Tilly did. But I had a lot of work to do here so I couldn't. So Chris said yes but only if I would stay over at Nick's so he will know I am safe.

"You are actually impossible you know?" He said when he walked in to our apartment and saw me painting walls in our son's room.

I was 7 months pregnant. My belly was really big already but I was feeling great. We just had a little gender reveal party for our friends and family. We waited for so long because we didn't know if we want to know but then both of us couldn't wait so we let Tilly organize one for us. We were going to have a boy. Chris was over the moon.

"I was bored and I am fine Chris" I said from the ladder..

"Get down here bro...I do not care you're giving me hart attack. I would you I will do it" He helped me down.

"I love you Chris but I am literally not made of glass" I hugged him and have him quick kiss.

"Yes you are...I missed you both today..." He put his hands on my belly and smiled.

"We missed you too" I said and smiled.

That night we were laying in bed reading. Yes, reading. Both of us were reading parenting books from Tilly.

"This is bullshit it is making me very anxious and I feel like the birth school is enough" He put the book down.

"Me too... honestly I have been thinking the same... everyone keeps telling us what to do and how... and it doesn't help. I mean, sure I take all the advice but in the same time I feel like we need to learn by ourself when he will be here" I said pitting book down.

"We should...You should rest and have the last months of this pregnancy for you...without any stress. And it is our last months just two of us...I wanna spend nice time with you without all of this" He took our books and put them down.

He took my hands into his and gave both of them a kiss.

"Come on a baby moon trip with me? Just two of us..." He asked looking at me and I smiled.

"Chris... this is so sweet" I said.

"Of course..." I aded and leaned in to kiss him.

We both decided that we felt the most comfortable and happy on Cape Cod in the cabin. That's also were we met so we wanted to go there. We rented our own cabin just in case his family wanted to use the other one. It was summer time so they were coming a lot. And also because we just really wanted to be alone. We spend everyday on the beach if it wasn't too hot for me. If it was we would just stay in and watch tv or play games together. I couldn't be more happier than I was with him there.

"You do cheesy sometimes...That I think my eyes are watering" I said when I saw him putting seashells in heart shape on my belly.

"Shut up.... it is cute" He said and made my pose to pictures.

"You're cute....youre such a dad already" I laughed looking at him.

"No I am not...youre just really beautiful" He laughed while laying down next to me on his stomach and on his the towel.

"Thank you Chris.... for that and for taking me here..." I said.

"Anytime mama" He kissed my nose and I scrunch it.

"Calling me mama is crazy" I laughed at him and he only wiggled his eyebrows at me.

And all the tiktoks about how you always thought your partner was hot but after seeing him carrying your baby home it is just something else? Well....seeing Chris with our son in his carseat on our way from the hospital to the car. I was ready to have another one right there.

He was so natural already. He was there for whole process panicking, but he was there. We both cried as hell when they put our baby on my chest. He cut the cord and he couldn't stop staring at our little man.

Our son was healthy and really loud. Thats how we knew Chris was the father. I am joking but for real little guy was a copy of Chris. He looked exactly like the triplets when they ere born.

We decided to name him Cali. We both were struggling with name and when we were watching tv one day someone used it as a name and we just looked at each other and we knew that this is going to be the name. I wanted it to start with C like Chris's name which he was happy about and said that if we have a daughter one day he wants her name to start with my initials.

As we brought Cali home he was a different baby. He was calm and we slept and ate well. I couldn't stop taking pictures of him and Chris. He was such a boy dad. All the stories he was telling him and they both napped together. He was doing everything equally with me. The changing, the feeding, bath time. Everything. I was very proud of how we handled it all.

Noa was Cali's biggest fan. She was almost one. She was walking already and every time they were over here she couldn't stop just sitting next to Cali. She was giving him her binky and just hugging him. We even took a picture where it looks like she is holding him by herself.

"Now tell me... isn't this the hotter thing ever?" Tilly asked me when we were watching Chris and Matt from the kitchen.

"Tilly...it fucking is I swear to god I am ready to have 5 more" I said and sat on the kitchen island next to her. We were having some wine and Chips.

Matt and Chris were playing on xbox while Cali was asleep on Chris's chest and Noa was asleep on Matt's. Nick wasn't here because he had some kind of event going on.

"Just bunch of dads" she laughed and took a sip from her glass.

"Dilfs if you ask me" I added and put my empty glass down.

"Alright... you know that we can hear you, right? I am going to confiscate the wine... I swear" Matt looked at us.

"Oh shut up you love it...."Tilly said and he just shook his head.

"Also 5 more is crazy baby...But I am fluttered" Chris looked at me. and winked.

I laughed and me and Tilly cleaned up a little and went to seat next to them.

I couldn't believe that we had two babies in the family and one of them was mine. I was a mother and it honestly was the best thing that happened to me. My missing piece.

My little family was all I needed right now.

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo

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alltheirdamn · 3 months

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Give Me Tonight | Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel has to leave. Rating: 18+ Word Count: 2k Warnings: a fuck ton of angst (sorry) A/N: This is a tiny one-shot for the lovely @janaispunk and their 1500 Kisses Challenge ... Thank you for giving me the inspiration and the ability to celebrate your milestone!! xoxo

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Things between you and Joel were strictly physical. You fulfilled each other's needs and parted ways at the night's end, no questions asked—no kisses exchanged. That was an unspoken rule both of you had decided: you didn’t kiss. Kissing was romantic. Emotionally charged, if you wanted to be more specific. Nothing about your relationship with Joel was emotional; you were okay with that. For the most part, at least.

There were times, however, when Joel had his body pressed against you that you so desperately yearned for his lips on yours. When his face twisted up in pleasure, and the beads of sweat rolled down the curve of his nose…that is when you wanted to kiss him the most. Amidst the carnal need driving the force of his endeavors, you noticed a hint of softness in his eyes. It was most prominent when the moon crested over the sky and you were saying your goodbyes. Joel lingered a few moments too long at the door when you turned to leave, almost hesitant to see you go. If he asked you to stay, the answer would always be yes.

But the question never came, and the answer was never given.

One night in particular, much later than expected, Joel showed up at your small apartment. Given the circumstances within the Boston QZ, it was run down and rather barren, which is why you favored Joel’s place over yours. You could only count a handful of times Joel appeared at your place, and that night had been a shock. After a sharp knock on your door, you opened it wearily, scared it was to be a band of raiders coming after you. God knows it was bound to happen at some point. But luck was in your favor, and your time hadn’t run out. Joel stood before you, a plain denim button-up stretched across his sturdy frame and his hair disheveled.

“What are you doing here?” You asked. There was something unreadable in his eyes, a swirling emotion swimming in the chocolate pools you hadn’t seen before.

“Can I come in?” He asked.

He was halfway over the threshold before he asked the question, inviting himself in like any other time. You closed the door soundly, following him into the living room—if you could call it that. There was only one dingy sofa against the wall, along with a half-broken coffee table and a radio that sat near the window. Joel stood in the middle of the room, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“Joel,” you cautioned. “What is it?”

“I’m leavin’ tomorrow.”

He didn’t even turn to look at you as he said the words—three words shaped into a weighted knife that slid right between your ribs. You couldn’t articulate why it hurt, but it did. It was the end of whatever this was between you, the end of warming each other's beds, and the constant need to fill a void left inside both of you. Joel wasn’t a man of many words, but you knew the grief he harbored from losing his daughter twenty years ago. You had lost people you loved over the years, as well, and you craved the connection only Joel could give you.

“Leaving where?” You asked.

“Marlene’s asked me to do somethin’.”

“Are you going to tell me what she’s asked you to do?”

Finally, he turned to you, an amalgamation of emotions swimming across his features. You’d never seen him so conflicted, as though the weight of the world balanced on his shoulders. Whatever Marlene was asking of him, the price must be high. Joel wasn’t one to give his help freely, yet here he was, tormented by a nameless job he could not reveal.

“I can’t,” he admitted.

Static buzzed between your bodies, a teether vibrating in the wavelengths of denial that neither of you sought to unfurl. Too many nights had you spent under his body, mapping the constellation of scars that marred his skin. He could argue it all he wanted, but Joel had also memorized yours. The deep understanding of each other's bodies had become something rooted further than just physical. You couldn’t hide from that truth, nor could he.

“When will you be back?” You asked.

You saw the answer so plainly on his face: the clench of his jaw, the averting of his gaze. He didn’t know. Or worse, he knew and didn’t want to say. Saying it aloud meant it was real.

“I only came to say goodbye.”

“Oh.”

What else could you say? Truthfully, you didn’t want to say anything at all. You wanted to stay in this moment and savor the time you had left. Even if it meant standing feet apart and staring at each other helplessly. He’d go, and you’d stay. You had no place in his life, only the purpose of warming his bed and giving him release.

“You didn’t have to,” you offered. “I would’ve figured out you were gone. You don’t owe me anything.”

“That ain’t fair to you. Y’deserve a goodbye.”

You looked down at your hands, your nails digging into the skin of your palms. You weren’t used to Joel speaking so much, let alone in such a solemn way.

“And I wanted to see you,” he added. “Just one more time.”

Under the weight of your eyelashes, you tracked the shadow of his body growing closer. He would swallow you whole if you let him—and you would. Whatever emotion this was that you refused to acknowledge, it had latched itself so tightly to Joel you feared it would never come undone. You’d live your days without seeing him again and learn to be okay with it. You survived this long with the loss of your loved ones; you could do it again.

“You’ll be okay, right?”

You lifted your head, though you were afraid of the truth staring right at you. He nodded, but you saw through it. He was lying.

“I don’t—.” You swallowed your words. Try again. “I don’t know what to say.”

Joel stepped forward, his calloused and rough hands molding around your face. Never once had he touched you so carefully—never had you realized how desperately you ached for it. He tipped your face up, your eyes steady on his.

“Then let’s not say anythin’,” he whispered.

You stared, wide-eyed, as Joel dipped his head towards yours. A slight tilt, an exhaled breath, and his lips were colliding with yours. You froze under his touch, letting the movement of his lips on yours guide you through your uncertainty. You didn’t trust yourself not to fall apart in his arms. If you cracked under the weight of your emotions, would he catch you?

Joel’s fingers flexed around your cheekbones, coaxing you silently to give way to your control. Keeping your distance would at least save you the massive heartbreak in the end, but he was gifting you this one moment. Why would you deny yourself that?

Parting your lips, you welcomed Joel’s tongue into your mouth. A slow, languid kiss that deepened every time your lips met. You melted into one another, consumed by a heavy grief that wrapped around your bodies. It was just you and Joel, locked in each other's embrace while the world tore itself apart around you. Your trembling fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt, fumbling over each as they popped open. Joel’s hand came to rest on yours, halting your exploration.

“Not tonight,” he muttered, breaking from your mouth.

Crestfallen, you pulled away. What were you without your body? That’s what Joel wanted, wasn’t it? It was all you had left to give, and even at that moment, he turned you down. Joel curled a finger under your chin, tipping your face up until you swam within the stormy chocolate waves inside his eyes.

“I just want this,” Joel confessed. “Just give me this. It’s all I need tonight.”

Words failed. They evaded you, though you searched for them and came up empty. Joel took your silence as an invitation to continue his feverish search for solace upon your lips. A broken cry stifled your breathing as you let Joel slip his tongue over yours. Tender strokes overlapping with pitying cries, you resolved to nothing but a heap of devastation.

Joel tangled a strong hand in the tendrils of your hair, guiding your head in whichever way he chose fit. Control fell to the wayside, and you allowed him to overtake the moment. Whatever he wanted, you’d give him. He could ask you to break apart your ribs and rip out your heart, and you’d ask him for his hand to hold it.

This kiss was your undoing.

“Joel,” you whispered.

“Hmm?”

“Promise me you’ll come back.”

He pried away from your swollen lips and rested his forehead against yours. You looked up through tear-drenched eyelashes to see the crease between his brow furrowing deeper. He carried so much pain in his expression.

“I can’t make promises like that.”

Honey-sweet tones of his voice were replaced by an emotionless staccato—a monotone-sounding blade slicing through all hopes you harbored inside your chest.

“Stay with me,” you pleaded. “Just for the night.”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” You argued.

“It’s better if we leave it like this.”

Joel broke from the cocoon of denial you both had built, the walls tearing down and crumbling around your feet. He strode toward the door, his fists clenched and his back hunched with tension.

“Joel!” You called out.

Your body moved on its own accord, crashing into his large frame the second he twisted around at the sound of your voice. He wrangled you into his arms, hauling your body up until your legs strained to wrap around his hips. His hands found their place against your body, one gripping the back of your neck, the other pressed to the base of your spine.

Joel brushed his nose against yours, his eyes drifting shut as he inhaled your aroma. You tempted him into a soft kiss, a subtle coax of your lips hovering over his.

“Kiss me goodnight, Joel,” you whispered, your words spoken over the curve of his mouth. “Kiss me goodnight and give me hope there will be more. I can’t accept that this is it.”

“I can’t give you hope,” he lamented, his mouth moving against your skin.

“Then give me tonight.”

Joel crushed his lips against yours, a ferocity awakening inside him that hadn’t been there all night. You shaped yourself into his form, arching into every hard ridge of his body; no space between you was left unfilled. Joel’s fingers flexed around the curve of your neck, his hand sliding over its shape until his palm rested against your throat. The familiarity of his possessiveness sprung into place, a simple reminder of what you meant to him.

Whatever that may be.

The room spun around you as Joel walked you both toward your bed. He laid you out gently, piecing apart your clothes until you were bare beneath him. His clothes followed, and you returned to his heavy embrace once again.

He took you slowly, every thrust and moan shared between you becoming the only noise inside your small apartment. Terminal moments faded away into the late hours until you both lay side by side in morbid silence. You expected Joel to leave when he finished, yet his body stayed glued to the bed.

Rolling onto your side, you traced a path down his arm, allowing your brain to catalog every inch of his skin and the marks he bore. Years of pain ingrained themselves into his body, and he would collect so many more as time passed. Time that did not include you.

Joel eventually turned his head in your direction, his tired eyes barely holding their weight. You hummed softly, hoping to guide him to sleep. Reaching for his hand, you lifted it to your mouth and kissed each of his fingers, tears rolling down your cheeks as you made your way over each knuckle.

“Goodnight, Joel,” you whispered.

You stirred awake, turning over to see the dent in the mattress beside you.

He was gone.

Joel wasn’t coming back.

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel x f!reader #joel miller #post outbreak joel #tlou #joel miller one shot #1500 kisses challenge #angst angst angst

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sameheart-sameblood · 2 years

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Love in the Time of Cordyceps

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: when the world ends, you promise you'll never love again. joel miller makes that rule hard to stick to

words: 7.1k

warnings: mentions of gore (pretty tame but still), swearing, sickness, angst, fluff, two dummies not realizing they love each other until one of them almost dies 🙄

a/n: this was supposed to be more angsty but then i remembered life is hard enough already. and i just want soft joel soooo here we are. also i meant to write 2k at most but boy do i love to ramble

read on ao3!

After the world goes to hell, you promise yourself you’ll never love again. A person, an animal, a place, nothing. Only a fool would choose to make themselves that vulnerable, needing every fiber of your being one hundred percent devoted to your survival and nothing more.

Was a life without love worth living? Every time that question enters your mind, you swat it aside. It’s like a nagging fly that buzzes around you until your persistence finally drives it away completely. Of course you could live without love. You’d been doing it just fine these past fifteen years.

Living without attachment proves useful in the new world you find yourself in. It makes the countless people you lose along the way easier to move on from. In the early days, your heart still twinges as the people around you drop like flies. Most fall victim to the bites of clickers, some to raiders’ gun, a few by their own hand.

The first group you had travel with is filled with Midwesterners who see the terrors of the new world and still somehow have a smile and a joke for you. Their joviality can’t save them, though. Clickers swarm you one rainy night two years after the fall of civilization. The sight of Gail, a woman who reminds you of your grandmother, having her stomach ripped out by an especially voracious clicker cures you of your need for any connections to the living.

Over the years, you make your way to the East Coast. Smiles, defiant in the face of adversity are replaced by permanent grimaces etched into the faces of everyone you meet. It seems as though every survivor has lost the ability for happiness of any kind. Good, you think, they’re finally learning. You wonder what took them so long.

Tales of peace the Canadian wilderness has to offer reaches your ears. In your heart you know it is most likely a tall tale spread by desperate survivors. But the good thing about a zombie apocalypse is you now have nothing but time on your hands. Working your way north, if all goes well, you’ll reach Saint John by May, continue to Port Elgin and then decide if you’d try for Prince Edward Island or turn east to Nova Scotia.

Plans are made to be broken, though, and yours, along with your ankle, break clean through one day as you make your way through Boston. It would have been over for you if not for the two survivors that find you nursing your injury in a department store that will most likely be swarming with clickers by nightfall.

The woman, after she puts her gun away, introduces herself as Tess. The man doesn’t offer his name, preferring to keep the barrel of his shotgun pointed at you. As they argue quietly over what to do with you, you observe their faces. Both are etched hard with years of loss and worry. Even harder than your joyless face. It’s impressive albeit in a sad kind of way.

Tess had somehow persuades the man to help you back to the Boston QZ. Joel. You hear her call him Joel. “Fine,” he had grumbles as he places your arm over his shoulder for support, “but if she scans red, I will not hesitate to put her down.” Oddly enough his threat somehow makes you almost like him. You sense a kindred spirit. Another follower of the “no love, no attachment” way of life.

You do not, in fact, scan red and are allowed to enter the QZ. An apartment is assigned to you, a crappy little studio with faded lime green paint. The old you would have adored it, called it quirky and planned out how best to decorate it with your meager funds. The new you just appreciates a safe place to sleep.

After your ankle heals, Tess invites you to join her smuggling scheme. Thoughts of Canada flee your mind for the time-being and you gladly welcome something to keep yourself occupied.

“But what about the cowboy?” you ask.

“Joel? What about him?”

Your eyebrows arch, “He threatened to shoot me.”

“Only if you were infected. Just don’t get infected.” She says it like you’re discussing the weather.

Joel allows you into the group begrudgingly, probably because he thinks they can use you as bait or a distraction if needed. Fine. Let them label you bait. You’ve been called worse before.

The first few months working together are tense. Joel reprimands you for the smallest mistakes and warns Tess you’ll get them all killed. At first, you bite your tongue, reminding yourself of the part he had in saving you. But one night after he scolds you for the millionth time about not checking your blind spots for clickers, you snap. “Fuck off, Joel! I survived the clickers for fifteen years. I think I know what I’m fucking doing!.”

He holds up his hands in surrender, wandering off with a hurt pout like he wasn’t the one who was just being the asshole. You wonder why your victory leaves you feeling hollow.

After that, Joel keeps his mouth shut around you. No nagging, no “helpful” tips. Just the bare minimum of whatever he needs to convey. You’ll never admit that it hurts. You don’t have to, though. Tess, at the end of her rope, explodes one night as the three of you eat dinner in awkward silence. “Couple of fuckin’ babies I’m working with,” she seethes. “If you don’t grow up I’m finding a new crew.”

It’s decided that you and Joel will do the next supply run to Bill’s. Alone. No Tess there to act as buffer between you and him. Joel grunts at that but doesn’t argue, always deferring to your leader. The trip to Bill’s goes as well as you can ask. There are no arguments between the two of you at least. You’re sure you even see Joel crack a smile. Of course it’s when you clumsily tripped over a raised tree root…But hey, progress is progress.

With the supplies in tow and Frank’s compound behind you, you actually think this trip might be a success. A gang of raiders lying in wait to sabotage you dashes your hopes of that. They had seen the two of you lugging your supplies and thought it would be an easy win. At first, they are correct. They outnumber you and Joel in size and wickedness. The four of them aren’t content to kill you outright. They tie you up and discuss what to do with you next.

Of course their attention quickly falls on you. The man with an ugly gash across his face leers at you. “Maybe we should keep her around awhile. She looks like fun.” Try as you might to act tough, that sends the blood rushing through your ears.

You almost don’t hear Joel snarl at them. “You lay one finger on her and it’ll be the last thing you ever do.” The venom in his voice snaps you back to reality. While their attention is on him, you discreetly start ripping at your bonds with the little pocket knife you thankfully decided to stow in your back pocket.

They beat Joel senseless by the time you get free. You honestly think you’re too late as you stab the goon nearest to you in the thigh, by some miracle hitting his femoral artery. The others turn to you, blindsided as you go wild at the sight of your bloodied and broken companion. Gash-Face comes roaring at you, all brawn no brains. The look of surprise as you lodge the knife in his neck makes you smile with sickening glee.

The remaining two corner you, murder in their eyes. Your gun is just beyond them, taunting you to come retrieve it. The only “weapon” you have is the belt you’re wearing, it’s clasp heavy and silver. You undo it and swing it at the nearest man. He grabs it, cackling victoriously as he uses it to pull you closer. In their grasp, you become the target of their blows. You curl into the fetal position, angry that after all the near death experiences you’ve had, this will be the way you go out.

A shot rings out, then another. Two thuds on the ground next to you make you open your already swollen eyes. As you look up, you realize your savior is Joel. Back from the dead. His face is covered in blood, like some kind of ghoul. But in that moment, you have never seen someone look more like an angel. The two of you limp back to the QZ where Tess nurses you as she simultaneously curses the deceased thugs.

Joel corners you in the bathroom the next day as you study your bruised face. “You could have run,” he hisses at you, making you jump. You don’t know what he wants so you just shrug. He invades your space, making you back against the counter. “Why didn’t you run?” His voice has gone low, anger simmering just beneath the surface.

Faces inches from each other, all you can muster is a weak, “We’re a team. I wasn’t going to leave you.”

Several emotions flicker across his face in quick succession. Anger, fear, worry and something you can’t quite put your finger on. Pride? Maybe that was you projecting but you hope you were right. Joel studies you for a moment longer, then reiterates, “Next time, you run.”

******

After that, things change. Joel is still a man of few words but the ones he does grace you with are softer and more intentional. Instead of berating you for the knowledge and skills you lack, he takes them time to teach you. He shows you how to identify fake ration cards and to spot the kind of guard you can bribe. Nights are spent with you following behind him like a shadow as he shows you all the secret ways in and out of the QZ. When your hands shake during target practice, he places his calloused ones over yours. It steadies your hands but frays your nerves, threatening to awake a feeling long thought dormant.

It goes both ways. Joel lacks attention to detail in certain situations and you show him how to read people and ascertain their flaws that can be exploited. During your runs you point out the flora that can be consumed safely or used as medicine. At Flynn’s, the only bar in the QZ, you teach him how to play pool. An essential to survival? No. But it sure helps you win a huge stash of ration cards from your fellows survivors. It also gives you an excuse to sidle up behind him and mold your body around his, all in the name of helping him get the “proper pool stance.”

Your excuses to fleetingly touch one another became more and more common. They are all perfectly innocent but carry the weight of something elicit, at least to you. Joel is never one to give away his innermost thoughts, happy to wear a permanent poker face. For all you know he couldn’t care less about you. Maybe he just knows keeping you alive is good for business and that’s why he takes a particular interest in making sure you’re safe. Whatever the reason, you hope he never stops.

******

During one supply run, a torrential thunderstorm forces you to spend the night at Bill and Frank’s. You know it makes Joel nervous to be indebted to anyone for such hospitality but you can’t hide your glee. A night there means a cozy bed and a hot shower, something hard to find in your home where the water runs tepid at best.

Afterwards spending way too long in the bathroom, you curl up in your bed, toasty and content, only to find sleep won’t not come. Your hosts are dear to you, even the grumpy Bill, but their snoring through the wall you share makes hopes for a deep sleep impossible.

After an hour of tossing and turning, you decide to go make your bed on the couch. As you tiptoe down the stairs you run into Joel, on his way up . “Going somewhere?” he drawls, exhaustion making his voice deeper than usual. You shrug, “Couldn’t sleep. There are two buzzsaws in the room next door.”

Joel chuckles, “I’ve had that room before. Can’t say it was the best night of sleep I’ve ever had.” You lived for these little snippets into Joel’s life before you came around, always eager to hear more. But the trek to the house through never-ending sleet and over the turbulent river left you more tired than you had felt in years. Right now all you want is to get where you could pass out immediately. “I’m just gonna make camp on the couch,” you say, stifling a yawn.

Joel shakes his head. “You take my room. The couch is good enough for me.” This man. Hadn’t anyone told him chivalry is dead. You sigh tiredly and beckon for him to come back up the stairs with you. “It’s a big bed. We can share.” There is silence behind you where there should have been footsteps. Joel’s smile disappears as his forehead creases in thought. “Please,” you pout, “I can’t sleep in my room and I won’t get any rest knowing you’re crammed on that dainty little loveseat.”

It takes far more coaxing than it should but finally Joel gives you a little nod and follows you into his - your - room. You gesture to the bed, “Care which side you get?” Joel thinks, then shrugs. “Left is good.” You flop onto the right side, eyes immediately drooping shut. Once again, there is no movement from your companion. Without opening your eyes, you chide him, “If you’re gonna be weird and watch me sleep all night then you can go sleep on the couch.” That got him moving again.

The sound of the shower turning on lulls you to a sleep that is disturbed only when you feel the dip of the bed several minutes later. You watch through barely opened eyes as Joel does a strange shimmy under the covers. It’s clear he’s trying his best not to wake you. The sight makes you laugh softly and his head whips to you.

“Thought you were asleep,” he murmurs.

You hum, “I was. You woke me up.”

It’s meant to be a joke but Joel grimaces. “Sorry.”

The sight is sweet and your heart flips, his frown making him look almost boyish. “It’s ok. It’s your bed.”

As you burrow into your cocoon of blankets, Joel props himself up, a pillow behind his back. He looks from you to the bedside lamp and back again. “You mind if I read for a few minutes?”

That surprises you. In all your time together you had rarely seen Joel do something just for the pleasure of it. There was usually no time. But Bill and Frank’s is a sanctuary and even the hyper-vigilant Joel Miller is able to slow down here. You nod enthusiastically, perking up. “What are you reading?”

It’s like you had asked him what his darkest secret was. He reddens, then finally grabs a book from the table. Pride and Prejudice. He stammers, “It’s just…I never had a lot of time for reading before and this was a favorite of…it was a favorite of somebody I knew.”

“You can read out loud to me if you want,” you offer with a grin. Honestly it was half in jest and half a serious hope. It had been decades since anyone had read aloud to you. Joel, always thinking you were making some sort of fun of him, smirks sarcastically. “Not a chance.”

Your glower slowly melts away at the sight of him putting on his reading glasses and settling in. Silently you curse as you feel your hardened heart crack just the tiniest bit. Idiot that you are, you try to talk yourself out of your own feelings. You aren’t attached to Joel. How could you be? He’s just a handsome, rugged man who keeps you safe and reads Jane Austen in his spare time. Maybe some lesser fool would fall for him but not you. No, sir.

The next morning, you find yourself curled into him, chest pressed against his back and arm draped over his side. Like a bomb diffuser, you carefully try to extricate yourself from the position, every movement slow and precise. Joel, still asleep, lazily grabs your hand, keeping your arm around him. He sighs contentedly as you settle back down and you swear under your breath, nestling your head at the crook of his neck. You are so that lesser fool.

******

The thunderstorms of summer give way to the pleasant days of autumn. Those good days don’t seem to last long enough. You should have appreciated them more while they were there but so is the way of being human.

Winter in Boston isn’t fun. Ok that’s an understatement. It makes you long for the soul-sucking, never-ending Midwestern winters you had lived through for most of your life. There is something about being next to the ocean that makes everything feel colder.

The nights are especially hard, the wind seeping through the cracks in the walls of your apartment. No matter how many blankets you tuck around yourself, your body never truly feels warm. Runs to Bill’s or anywhere outside the QZ become less frequent and more difficult. Only those deemed truly necessary are attempted and even then there is always a long discussion beforehand weighing out the pros and cons.

Runs between the months of November and January are too risky and after much debate, it is decided you three would lay low in the relative safety of the QZ. In the meantime, you’d assess your stockpile, make connections over the radio and wait for the spring thaw. With less food smuggled in from the outside, you decide to put your energy into earning ration cards. Even though no one could argue you don’t pull your weight in the group, you often feel like the weak link. Making sure Tess and Joel have a hot meal every night is the least you could do.

Joel had always told you to stay away from sewer work. It paid double what the other jobs did but at a high risk. Besides not being able to wash the stink off for days, the tunnels under the city were treacherous. Many had gone down there only to be blindsided by a stray clicker or jumped by a loner who made their home away from society up above. Some just got lost in the labyrinth, never to be heard from again. Or at least you had been told. You hoped those were just myths.

You and three other desperate souls are sent down to the sewers with the task of clearing the rubble from a recent cave in. A hard day’s work definitely but you were optimistic that you could get it done in a few hours time and be on your way.

The first few hours go well, the biggest pieces of the concrete being cleared easily enough. Your back aches and callouses quickly form on your palms. But still, all of that you can deal with, mollifying yourself with the thought of the stack of ration cards you’ll proudly gift to Joel and Tess.

Maybe if you hadn’t been daydreaming you would have heard the shouts of your fellow volunteers sooner. Finally coming back to reality, you move just in time to avoid another piece of falling rock. You save yourself from being crushed but lose your footing, coming down hard on your shin.

A stream of bright blood instantly trickles from the gash and you swear as you try to keep the tears that spring to your eyes at bay. Wanting to prove yourself, you brush off your group’s insistence that you go get it checked by the doctor. It doesn’t matter if you complete ninety percent of your shift. You still don’t get your payment if you leave early. So you suck it up for another hour, slogging through the muck as you finish the job. It’s fine, you tell yourself, it’s just a scratch. You’ll wash it off when I get home and be good as new.

With the job done and ration cards tucked away in your pocket, you hobble back towards your apartment. The thought of a shower, as lukewarm as it will be, is the only thing keeping you upright. That is until you feel someone putting your arm around their shoulder. Joel helps you the few blocks to your house, his icy silence hurting you more than the cut that now throbs with every jostle.

It’s only after you get inside and are deposited on the couch that Joel speaks. He rolls up the leg of your jeans, cursing as he sees the already festering wound. “I told you to stay out of the sewers.”

You suck in a pained breath as he starts wiping away the dirt. “I’m fine. It’s just a little cut. Besides, it was worth it,” you pull out the stack of ration cards and present them to him proudly. The sight gives him pause. But the look on his face isn’t one of gratitude, it’s worried exasperation. His signature grimace returns, “It’s not worth it if you lose your leg.” And people claim you’re dramatic.

Pushing him away with a shoo, you rise, limping to the bathroom. “I just need a shower. Then I’ll be right as rain.” As you peel off your now ruined clothes, Joel hovers on the other side of the door. “I can hear you pacing,” you call over the sound of the warming shower.

Even through the almost closed door you can hear Joel sigh. “I just think we should take you to the doc. Make sure you’re alright.” The water hitting you makes you audibly moan, the filth on your body washing down the drain and with it, the memory of the hard day. You appreciate the concern but all you want to do know is forget about the day. You call out to a still pacing Joel, “I’m fine. You worry too much!”

******

It turns out Joel worries the right amount. Of course he does. As eager as you are to forget about your day, it’s not long before you can’t ignore your leg. The wound is an angry red and the area around it has swollen, leaving it tender and throbbing. Thankfully you have Joel there to dress it because, honestly, you can’t stomach the sight of it. These past years have been filled with much blood and gore at your own hands. But there’s something different when it’s your own blood.

In any other circumstance you would have reveled in the feeling of Joel holding your leg so tenderly, his fingers brushing against your skin as he wraps the bandage around you. It would have driven you insane seeing him crouched in between your legs as he is now. But at the moment all you can think about is how you much pain you’re in.

You try not to show your discomfort, but your poker face is nonexistent. Joel’s eyes flick up to yours as you slowly exhale, trying to keep calm. Avoidance has always been one of your favorite tactics when dealing with uncomfortable situations so you pipe up, overly perkily, “See? All better. Now about those ration cards, I was thinking for dinner-“

Joel rolls his eyes, standing with a groan, his knees audibly cracking. “The only thing you’re gonna do tonight is rest.”

You slowly turn your body to prop your leg up on a pillow as he watches. Pouting has never worked on Joel but you figure it never hurts to try. “I still have to eat,” you mope.

“You will. I’ll open a can of soup or something.”

The disappointment is real and bubbles to the surface quicker than you realized it would. “I just wanted us all to have a nice dinner. You and Tess do so much and I feel like…” Thinking how you feel is different from saying it out loud and you have to psych yourself up. Joel’s softening gaze helps you continue. “I feel like I’m useless. I just thought this was one thing I could do to really contribute.”

The silence between you feels heavy as you avoid his stare. Finally, he speaks, confusion contorting his features, “Of course you contribute. We wouldn’t have kept you around if you hadn’t.” It’s meant to make you feel better but it doesn’t, especially in your current laid up state.

“So are you going to get rid of me if I’m no longer useful?” you gesture at your leg, feeling your eyes beginning to sting with tears.

Joel sits down next to you. Your fear has made you defiant and you meet his gaze, wanting to fight. But Joel speaks in a soft, level voice, as if teaching a child a lesson. “First of all, you’re going to get better. You just need to be patient. Second, you’re thinking there’s only one kind of way to be useful.”

“I can’t shoot like you two can. I can’t fight. I can’t threaten people into getting what I want. I can go on runs and earn ration cards. That’s it. I’m too soft for anything actually important.”

Joel frowns, “You say that like it’s a bad thing. ‘Being soft’ in a world like this is an act of defiance. It’s brave as hell. What you consider important? I don’t want that for you.”

Warmth spreads through your chest as you observe him. He’s trying so hard to find his next words, to make you believe his truth. “Me and Tess, we let the world harden us more than it needed to. It was easier that way. But having you around reminds us there’s still innocence and good out there.”

The angry tears have turned to ones of gratitude. The sentiment is too much for you, unused to such vulnerability from Joel. You give him a small smile and he returns it, leaning over to wipe a tear off your cheek. “You’re useful just being you.”

While you still wish you matched Joel and Tess’ levels of badassery, the conversation helps ease your mind. You might not think much of your survival skills but you remind yourself that you’ve stayed alive in a world that wants you dead. Fifteen years you’ve been fighting and surviving and that’s nothing to look down on.

“And for what it’s worth, “ he adds, “you scared the hell out of me the first time we met.”

You grin at him, shocked, “Really?”

He nods, smirking cheekily, “Really. Still do sometimes.”

******

Joel heats up a can of tomato soup for you to share. You try not to think of how old it must be as he prepares it. But actually, it’s not bad, the taste reminding you of your childhood.

It also helps that you’re sharing it with someone you care about. A part of you hates that how easily you’ve let him into your heart. The one thing you swore off all those years ago is now all you can think about as you watch him sitting across from you, ladling out the steaming liquid.

He catches you staring and breaks the silence, “Were you even going to tell me you got hurt today if I hadn’t run into you.” The fuzziness of your feelings for him makes your brain a little mushy and instead of having a grownup conversation, you reply with a childish, “No, I thought I’d let it be a soup-rise.”

Joel rolls his eyes in mock annoyance. You chuckle and continue eating your rapidly cooling dinner. You sober up a bit and add, “The extra ration cards will be good, though. Right?”

He nods, “Yeah. I think it’s soup-er.” His eyes flick up to yours as they crinkle, the only sign that he finds himself amusing.

After dinner, Joel excuses himself to go work his overnight shift. When he leaves and you’re left along, the throbbing in your leg returns with a vengeance along with a mild fever. Your usually chilly apartment now feels stuffy and you have to remove all of your layers except your t-shirt to be even somewhat comfortable.

Worry creeps in as you sit there, alone and increasingly unwell. You long for the company of Joel or Tess, anyone to reassure you that you’re fine. But you’re alone and the dark thoughts creep in, whispering in your ear that whatever is brewing is not good. Unsure of what else to do, you slip in to bed, hoping that whatever this is will be better by morning.

******

You don’t wake for two days. Or at least, you have no real memory of the past 48 hours. Later, when the worst is over, Joel will tell you the details of that lapse in your memory. He’ll recount how you faded in and out of consciousness, sometimes submitting to your fever for so long that he wasn’t sure you were coming back. His voice will waver as he remembers how bad it got and how fragile you looked…

But for now, he stays by your side, foregoing his own health to make sure you stay alive. The first thing you remember is waking up to the sounds of Joel and Tess arguing in hushed tones.

“We need to get her to a doctor. Now.” Joel’s voice sounds strained, like he’s trying desperately not to lose it.

Tess still maintains her signature composure. “We can’t, Joel. It’s too late for that.”

Joel must make some kind of face because Tess sighs and re-words. “It’s too late to take her in because if we bring her to the hospital all they’ll focus on is her fever. They’ve put people down for way less. You know that.”

In your addled state, you wonder who they’re talking about. Your throat hurts to much to speak up though and ask.

“The doc will give us the meds. We’ve bribed him before.”

Tess shakes her head, “Antibiotics are on lockdown. Shipments have been delayed because of the weather. No one gets any without FEDRA knowing. Breaking in guarantees we get caught. We’re no good to her dead. ”

Joel scoffs, “So what do you suggest we do?”

“She rides it out.”

“She’s been ‘riding it out’ for two days. Look at her,” Joel’s voice gets closer as he peers down at you, “she’s fighting but she’s losing.”

Oh. Fever may have taken hold of you, making your brain fuzzy and concentration near impossible, but you understand now that you are the subject of their argument. For Joel to sound so forlorn you must look bad.

If you’re dead soon, you want to let them know to leave it and just let you slip away. Your well-being means nothing if it puts them in unnecessary danger. Rule be damned, they’re your family now and you care about them. If you’re being honest, you’ve cared about them since you met them. It breaks your heart thinking you won’t be able to tell them that now. It nearly kills you right then and there to know you won’t get the chance to tell Joel you love him…

Opening your mouth to articulate all of that takes great effort and when you do try and speak, all that comes out is a strangled groan. The two rush over, Tess sitting down beside you. She takes your hand, an uncharacteristic show of tenderness. Yep, you’re dying.

“You’re ok, kid,” she whispers, “you just have to hang in there.” It would be easy to ignore reality and blindly trust her. But you’ve always been stubborn and so you shake your head and continue trying to speak. Again, nothing comes out but garbled nonsense as you writhe around trying to make your limbs do what your brain wants.

You must look a sight because Joel lets his anger overflow. “Maybe you can sit here and watch her die, but I can’t.”Heavy footsteps and Tess yelling are all that you can focus on as you fade back into oblivion.

******

Living is hard and unconsciousness is addicting. Peaceful and cozy are feelings you can scarcely remember having. It would be easy to stay in that enveloping darkness but the feeling of the back of someone’s hand on your clammy forehead pulls you back to the realm of the living. You grumble weakly as you’re made to come to.

Everything is painful. Stabbing jolts of electricity radiate up your leg from the cut. Your chest is tight, making breathing troublesome and your eyes can barely stand the dim, watery sun coming through the shades of the window. Someone places a damp cloth on your forehead to keep the fever at bay. Still out of it, you try and swat it away.

A gentle hand grabs yours, shushing you. “It’s alright. It’s only me.”

Joel. Maybe you have died and this is heaven. The man you love by your side, nursing you so tenderly. It’s more than you could have ever hoped for. This might be the afterlife believers talk about if only you weren’t in so much pain. The neurons in your brain begin firing more rapidly as your fever dies down. They remind you that you and Joel aren’t lovers. Your cowardice, disguised as intelligence, has kept you from telling him how you feel.

“What’s happening?” Your voice comes out croaky and soft but at least it’s intelligible. The bed dips as Joel moves closer to you. As you peer up through barely opened eyelids you can see him leaning over you. His tired eyes look down at you as he caresses your hair.

“You got real sick, honey. That cut you got festered and turned into a fever. We thought we were gonna lose you.” The slight falter in his voice makes your already tight chest contract.

“How long was I out?”

“Three days. We got you some meds, though. You’re gonna be ok.” He says it firmly, which does some good in easing your worry.

Trying to open your eyes a bit more you continue your questioning, “Where did you get the antibiotics from?”

Joel hesitates, “Bill and Frank had some.”

You try and sit up, angry that he made that trip and put himself in danger. Even now, you can see the snow whipping around outside your window. Knowing he made the trek there and back through that storm makes you curse. Joel tuts and puts a gentle hand to your chest, keeping you down and resting.

“It’s done. No use getting angry about it now.”

You glare up at him even though you’re really just upset with yourself. “Why would you do something so stupid?”

His smiles peacefully down at you, exhausted but eyes bright. “We’re a team, remember?”

It’s too much for you to handle. You cover your face just in time to hide the angry, relieved and grateful tears that spring to your eyes. Silent sobs wrack your frame, making you seize with pain.

Joel pulls you into him, shushing you as he resumes stroking your hair. You hide your face in his side, trying to regain your composure. Crying shouldn’t be something you feel the need to earn. But you’re all sorts of broken, so you take this rare opportunity to not judge yourself and weep with abandon. You almost died, for Christ’s sake. Surely that warrants some show of emotion.

After a few minutes, the tears stop and your breathing calms. Peeking up, you see Joel has his eyes closed. His face is the most serene you’ve seen it in ages, most of the worry lines softened. There’s still a few that refuse to relax, though. The crease in between his eyebrows remains stubbornly indented. You gaze up at him as he continues to run soothing patterns along your back.

Feeling the weight of your stare, he opens his eyes. Coward that you are, you glance away. “Thank you,”is all you can mumble out as he gazes at you. After a moment, you add a shy, “I would do the same for you. You know that, right?”

Joel pulls you gently into him, almost to remind himself you’re still here with him and that the danger has passed. He nuzzles into your hair, murmuring an affectionate“I know, honey. I know.”

******

After a few more hours and another dose of antibiotics, you begin to feel more like yourself. Joel still won’t let you get out of bed yet, except for a trip to the bathroom for a quick shower. Even though you’ve been dead to the world for much of your ordeal, you’re quickly getting bored with bed rest. But you’ve learned long ago that resistance is futile with Joel. So you shower like a good patient, scowling as the water hits your scabbing cut.

Once you finish, Joel hops in and washes the grime and worry of the past three days off. As you settle back in bed, you can hear him singing softly to himself. Through the patter of the water you can hear his soft rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s Songbird. It’s one of your favorites, too, and you hum along as you settle back into your pillow.

After a few minutes, sleep still won’t come. You toss and turn as Joel finishes getting ready for bed. He comes in to find you still awake. “I thought I told you to get some sleep.” He says it like a loving mother gently scolding their rebellious child.

You flail as you try and get comfortable. You shoot back a moody, “But I’m just not tired.” Joel chuckles as he sits down into the arm chair next to your bed. He smooths back his wet hair and gives you a faux stern look. “Your body’s been through a lot. You need rest.”

“What are you doing?” you ask.

Joel looks confused, wondering what he did wrong. “Sorry I just thought I’d sleep here tonight in case you need anything. I can leave, though.”

“No!” you yell out, completely abandoning any hope of looking cool. You give him an apologetic smile, “I want you to stay but you’re not sleeping in that chair one more night.”

Joel glances to the spot on the bed beside you, then looks to you for confirmation. He sighs, a smile playing at his lips. “If I stay will you promise to go to sleep?”

You nod very seriously. “Of course.”

Joel grins, knowing you too well to believe you. “Liar,” he chuckles but still gets up and makes his way to the other side of the bed. You pull back the blankets so can get in, then cover him up. Settling on your side, you watch as he suddenly looks lost, unsure of what to do now. It’s cute, this powerful man rendered helpless by something as innocuous as sharing a bed.

You can’t help but laugh at him and he looks down at you, eyes wide. Taking pity on him, you make a suggestion. “If you’re not tired you could read to me.” Joel opens his mouth to refuse but you blurt out a quick, “I did almost die, you know.” He glares at you but his lip quirks up. He grabs the book from the other room then flops back down in bed, opening to a spot in the middle.

Frowning, you reach out to touch Joel’s arm. “Do you mind starting from the beginning?” He rolls his eyes but flips back to the first page. You grin triumphantly as you settle into his side. Joel places his arm around your shoulder as he begins to read. “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife…”

His southern drawl mixed with the Romantic Era style of writing makes for an amusing but pleasant combination. After a few chapters, your eyes get heavy and Joel feels you nodding off against him. Jane has just been invited to Netherfield Park but even that can’t keep you awake. Joel puts the bookmark in to save your spot and places the novel on your bedside table.

You grumble in weak protest as he tucks you in and turns off the light. “We can keep reading tomorrow. But right now you’re going to sleep.” Joel lies down beside you and with the pale light of the moon through your curtains you can see him studying you. He caresses your face and you close your eyes, delighting in the sensation.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he whispers.

You force your eyes open, needing him to see the truth of it when you pledge a soft,“I won’t. I mean it.”

Joel nods gratefully and you reach out for him. He slides into your arms and you rest your chin on the top of his head. He’s watched over you for long enough. It’s your turn to take care of him and reassure him that, in this moment, you both are safe.

For most, an outright admission of affection is needed to understand how you feel about the other person. But you and Joel are cut from the same cloth, stubborn and slow to reveal your feelings. In this world, for people like you, ’I love yous’ are rare and replaced with actions and deeds.

You realize that even though you've never told Joel that you love him, you’ve shown it. Joel has been showing you all this time too and you were just too dull to realize it. While you know you’ll long to say the words to him soon, for now it’s enough to have him in your arms.

Joel’s breathing deepens and you feel him completely give himself over to sleep. Looking at his face bathed in the moonlight he looks like a new man. His edges soften and his vulnerability brims to the surface. It tugs at your heart and you understand how rare of a sight this is for Joel to allow anyone to see.

Smiling sleepily, you close your eyes and nestle into him. This feeling coursing through you is something foreign but familiar, an old friend you thought you had said your final goodbye to long ago. The love you have for Joel will leave you vulnerable. But it’s a price you’re willing to pay a thousand times over.

******

#im on a mission to make joel as soft as possible lol #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #tlou #tlou hbo #pedro pascal #allie writes

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sitp-recs · 3 months

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livvvv my rec goddess. i’ve recently developed an insatiable knack for draco doing little muggle things, like being obsessed with soap operas, or learning how to bake, or playing board games, or painting a house (??) etc etc. any recs as such perchance?? my eternal thanks x

Love this ask anon, “Draco in the Muggle world” can be such a fun trope! I tried to include a bit of everything but I feel like driving and cooking are very popular in fic, so there’s probably a lot of it here. I hope you enjoy these!

magic in the making by getawayfox (G, 2k)

I didn’t see Malfoy for a year after the trial. When Gin told me that, according to Pansy, he had opened a little posh bakery in Mayfair, I thought she was joking, so I went to see for myself.

Market Saturdays by iota (M, 3k)

In which Harry is an accidental part-time cheesemonger, Draco is an organic farmer and they fall in love.

Muggle 'Drug Store Items' by loveglowsinthedark (E, 4k)

Malfoy's interest is caught by a certain Muggle drug store item. (Hint: Flavoured Condoms)

To Make A Way by cavendishbutterfly (E, 5k)

When Harry finds Draco in the back row of the cinema, he doesn't mean to accidentally befriend him. Or fuck him. Or catch feelings. The thing is, Draco only does casual.

How We Throw Our Shadows Down by thistle_verse (T, 14k)

Draco has finally found the perfect, rare piece to complete his collection. The only problem is that the item belongs to Harry Potter, the last wizard on earth Draco wants to ask another favour from.

The Tapestry of Kinship by khalulu (T, 15k)

Harry is at loose ends, Draco is good with needles, and Draco's young daughter wants to see a certain tapestry repaired. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black will never be the same.

Tuesday Nights by firethesound (E, 15k)

The absolute last place Harry expected to see Malfoy was in a rundown Muggle cinema on a Tuesday night.

Rich Friend by iota (E, 18k)

As far as Harry can tell, Draco Malfoy is still rich as hell. He’s just not a wizard anymore. Featuring: Draco Malfoy trying to make it as a Muggle pop star, Harry Potter as our confused and horny hero, bad driving, good music, and the mysterious magic of falling for someone.

Harry Potter and The Bisexual Awakening by Writcraft (E, 23k)

Harry is perfectly content being single, heterosexual and living in Godric's Hollow with his very clingy rescue dog, Snitch. When Draco Malfoy turns up on Harry's doorstep demanding that Harry teach him how to drive, things quickly become a lot more complicated.

I Bet That You Look Good on the Dancefloor by birdsofshore (E, 28k)

Harry felt lit up from inside as soon as he entered the bar. There were blokes dancing together, their bodies close to one another, not keeping a wary distance as Harry was always careful to do when he was near another man. God, he wanted this – wanted it so much he could taste it, a metallic tang of heat and desire. He suspected nothing would ever be the same again – especially when he saw who else was in the room.

Around You Moves by ignatiustrout (M, 29k)

Harry knew Draco was gay when he invited him to move in. He’s never had a problem with this. So why does he feel so weird about Draco bringing men home all of a sudden?

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Draco Malfoy is the last person Harry expects to turn up in Boston, Massachussetts. But now he's here, and he won't stop requesting books from the library where Harry works.

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Ginny's pregnant, then she's not and Harry's single. Harry, again with no family, doesn't know what to do with this turn of events, or how to find a new life—post-war, post-Ginny, post-abortion—in which he belongs. He doesn't expect that life to include dancing to the Backstreet Boys with Hermione and Draco Malfoy. A story of finding belonging in the unexpected.

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Zacharias Smith writes a tell-all about the D.A. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are not happy about it.

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There's a DJ on RareFM with a secret. Or: the one with all the ABBA in it.

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Draco is mortified when moments prior to departing for the most anticipated destination wedding of the year, he is cruelly dumped. But when he learns that Harry Potter has, at long last, split with his horrible boyfriend, Draco is certain his luck has changed. Never a man to squander an opportunity for revenge (and what would probably be a spectacular shag), Draco vows to make Potter his for the weekend. Now all Draco has to do is convince him.

Salt on the Western Wind by Saras_Girl (M, 60k)

When the war isn’t quite as over as it first appears, a guilt-ridden Harry is sent to a mysterious safe-house. Among sandwiches, insomnia, and Mills & Boon, he discovers something quite unexpected.

Modern Love by tackytiger (E, 61k)

Harry Potter, of all people, knows that life isn’t always fair. And no one gets to be happy all of the time. But surely there’s something more—something better—than a rubbish Ministry job, and a lonely old house, and that feeling that everyone out there is doing a better job of living than Harry is.

Running on Air by eleventy7 (T, 75k)

Draco Malfoy has been missing for three years. Harry is assigned the cold case and finds himself slowly falling in love with the memories he collects.

#asks #anon #Drarry reclist #Draco in the Muggle world #Draco with Muggle hobbies

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sidekick-hero · 7 months

Text

"He probably thinks I don't love him, Robin. Which is... ridiculous. I do! I really, really do. I just can't say it." Steve is pacing around the blissfully empty Family Video Store, his hands making a mess of his hair as they run through it in frustration.

"This is so stupid. I* am* so stupid, it's just four stupid letters, even a preschooler can say it," he rambles, his eyes wild as they look at Robin. "Why am I like this, Robbie?" His voice breaks, along with his heart, at the thought of Eddie doubting Steve's feelings for him for even a second.

Robin walks over to him and grips his shoulders tightly, her blue eyes boring into his as she says in her firmest you-listen-to-me-now voice. "You're not stupid. This is my best friend you're talking about, so watch it." That earns her at least a half-smile, which counts as a victory considering Steve was already pinching his nose to hold back tears.

"I know you love him, Steve. Everyone knows it. One look at you when he's in the room, or even when you're just talking about him, is enough to know you love him. And I'm sure Eddie knows it too. He has to."

Robin's words soothe some of the fear in Steve's heart, knowing that she would tell him if she really thought he had messed up. But even though it's okay now, Eddie won't wait forever for Steve to say those three little words. No one would. Steve knows that his heart couldn't take being with Eddie, loving Eddie and telling him that, only to never hear it back from him.

"I don't know. Even if you're right, I feel like I'm losing him. That something in me is broken, and one day he'll realize that too, and then he'll leave." With an even smaller voice Steve adds: "I can't lose him, Robbie".

They don't hug very often. Robin shows her affection in many ways, but most of them aren't overly physical. That's Eddie's job, clinging to Steve like a koala most days, always touching Steve in some way, even if it's just his shoulder nudging Steve's. Robin pulling him into a tight hug now means a lot to him, but it's also a testament to the gravity of the situation.

With their arms around each other between the horror and action movie sections, Steve takes a moment to just soak in the comfort she offers. What happened at Starcourt messed them both up, caused them both more trauma than any teenager should have to deal with, but on a very selfish level, Steve can't help but be grateful that it happened. A life without Robin Buckley sounds like the greater horror to him.

After a few minutes, Robin gently pulls away from Steve to look at him. He's reluctant to let her go, even though he knows this is an even longer hug than the one she gave him when Nancy told him they weren't getting back together after defeating Vecna. She wanted to go to Boston, make a career, see the world. And Steve? Steve wanted a home, a place to belong, and someone to share that home with. They wanted different things, he realizes now.

That doesn't mean it didn't open old wounds, memories of how it felt to be rejected by her, his love for her thrown in his face like it was worthless. Bullshit.

As attuned to him and his thoughts as ever, a true testament to the fact that they share a brain cell, Robin says, "I think it's understandable that you can't say it. The last time you told someone you loved them, you were hurt, badly. Your heart is probably just trying to protect itself. Like a kid who touched a hot stove and got burned wouldn't touch another stove, you know?"

Steve nods, because in a way it makes sense. It just doesn't help him to know.

"But what am I supposed to do, Robin? It's not Eddie's fault that I'm broken."

"You, Steve Harrington, are not broken. Just a little bruised. There is nothing wrong with you just because you got hurt and have the scars to show for it. Like Max, because of the injuries to her leg, she cannot walk like she used to before Vecna, so she uses her crutch. She's not broken. Is she?"

"No, of course not. If anything, she's even stronger now, I saw her hit Lucas with the crutch and tell him to hurry up on the way to the movies," Steve says, smiling at the memory.

"See!" Robin waves her hand at him in excitement, almost bouncing with it. "All you need is a crutch!"

They look at each other wide-eyed before matching smiles break out on their faces, Robin's giddy at having found a solution, Steve's reflecting the tentative hope blossoming in his chest.

His talk with Robin certainly helped, but as Valentine's Day approaches, the fears and insecurities start to creep back in. It's not even like Eddie is giving him any indication that he's not happy with Steve or their relationship. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Eddie tells him he loves him almost every time they see each other, at the most random moments. Some days he whispers it in Steve's ear to wake him up, other days it's his way of saying good night to him with his arm around Steve's waist and his hand over Steve's heart in a protective grip. He says it casually when Steve brings him breakfast in bed or lunch to the record store where he now works. Just yesterday he said it while Steve was buried deep inside him, their hands intertwined beside Eddie's head and brown eyes looking softly up at Steve.

It's not meant to make him feel bad about himself, he knows that.

He still does.

So when he opens his front door to the sight of Eddie standing on his doorstep in his nicest jeans and a forest green button-down Steve has never seen before, clearly having put some real effort into his appearance, Steve almost crumbles.

He's a shitty boyfriend, isn't he? There's this amazing guy who goes out of his way to look nice for Steve, even though he doesn't even like Valentine's Day, just because he knows it's important to Steve. And he can't even tell him he loves him.

Some of what he's feeling must be showing on his face, because Eddie's cheerful smile falls and he hurries into the house to pull Steve into his arms, slamming the door shut with his foot.

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry, I told Dustin green wasn't my color, but he insisted. I look hideous, don't I?"

That makes Steve snort wetly into Eddie's neck before muttering a fond "Idiot" into it.

Eddie just hums, obviously pleased with himself for making Steve laugh. "You can tell me. You know I don't mind getting naked for you."

"You're getting a little ahead of yourself, aren't you?"

Eddie grinned wolfishly at him. "I don't know, the tear in my Hellfire shirt from when you ripped it off me begs to differ."

Steve blushes at the memory, even as he laughs at Eddie's words. Instead of saying anything else, Steve pulls him back into his arms and Eddie goes willingly.

"Hi, baby," he says, his nose brushing behind Steve's ear.

"Hi." Steve breathes him in, the smell of cigarette smoke and his shampoo strong where his nose is buried in Eddie's hair.

They don't let go for a long time.

It's Eddie who pulls back first, and Steve does his best not to read into it. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

The Steve from before the Upside Down would have just shaken his head and told Eddie that everything was fine before pulling him into the bedroom to reassure them both that it was. Not talking about his feelings, fears, and needs might have worked for hookups, but he learned the hard way that it doesn't work when you want to be in a relationship.

So Steve takes Eddie's hand and leads him over to the couch where they both sit facing each other. They don't let go of each other's hands.

"I know you're probably wondering why I haven't told you... why I haven't said it yet."

Eddie's eyebrows disappear behind his fringe. "It?"

Sighing, Steve watches his fingers run over Eddie's knuckles. "You know. That I love you."

"Oh."

It's hard to place Eddie's tone, and even harder to place the silence that follows, but it makes his knee jiggle with nerves and his stomach churn. Usually it's Eddie who tends to fill the silence between them when it feels too big, too heavy, but today it's Steve.

"It's not because I don't want to, I swear. It's just," another frustrated sigh, the hand currently not held by Eddie's rubbing over his face, "I just can't say it. And I am so, so sorry, because you deserve to hear it. Every day. But I can't... I can't. So I understand if you don't want to do this anymore. You deserve better, Eddie. You really, really do."

Eddie lets Steve's words settle between them, aching and raw, but he never lets go of Steve's hand.

"You're right," he finally says, and the sound of Steve's heart breaking is deafening to his own ears. Pinching his nose, he tries to take his hand back from Eddie, but his boyfriend (if he can still call him that) won't budge. "You're right about me wondering, Steve. But that was before."

Looking up, a frown forming between his eyebrows, Steve asks, "Before?"

"Before I realized that you do tell me that you love me, every day. You say it when you tiptoe around the trailer in the morning to make breakfast without waking me. You tell me every time you pack an extra blanket or sweater when we go to the quarry because you know I always get cold. I hear it loud and clear every time you bring me lunch, even though it means you waste most of your own lunch break driving around town. It's in the way you try so hard to make Wayne like you because you know how much that means to me, and in the way you hold me after another nightmare, and in the way you kiss me sometimes like there's nothing in the world you'd rather be doing, without it having to lead anywhere, just because you like kissing me."

Eddie scooted forward and bridged the gap between them by taking Steve's face in his hands.

"Steve, you've been telling me you love me for months with everything except words. I don't really need them. It's just a four-letter word."

And, fuck, now Steve is crying. Eddie wipes away his tears with his thumbs, and when that's not enough, he kisses them away with his lips.

Steve is so in love with him that he has no idea how the feeling even fits in his body.

"Damn," he chuckles wetly, "that means I didn't even have to find a crutch?"

Now it's Eddie's turn to look at Steve in confusion, clearly worried that his boyfriend might have lost his mind. "What crutch? Is this a sex thing?"

Laughing and shaking his head fondly, Steve raises his free hand to his head, palm facing Eddie. Then he brings his thumb, index finger, and little finger up, keeping his ring and middle fingers down, before moving his hand back and forth slightly.

"Robin came up with this. She said if I couldn't say the words with my mouth, maybe I could say them in a different way. I thought of trying sign language," Steve adds sheepishly.

Before he knows what's happening, Eddie is on top of him, pressing him into the couch with his body weight and showering his face with kisses.

"You're so smart," kiss, "and beautiful," kiss, "and wonderful," kiss, "and I love you so much." The last part is accompanied by a lingering kiss on his lips and Steve melts under it.

Even though he obviously didn't have to tell Eddie this way, Steve is glad that he did.

He also thinks it won't be long before he can say those words, too. If anyone can help him walk without a crutch, it's Eddie.

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #steddie fluff #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddielovemonth #day 27 #love is just a 4 letter word #my writing

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sleepyangelkami · 1 year

Text

COLD HANDS e.williams

☆ WORD COUNT - 2K

ELLIE WILLIAMS X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - a drabble of the wintery christmas' spent with you and your girlfriend, ellie williams, in jackson.

☆ WARNINGS - none, pure fluff :) (that felt weird to say) petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

"for god sake, angel." ellie tutted as she cupped your hands in hers, ignoring the light tone she used with her almost harsh words. "what have i told you about wearing your gloves?"

you smiled, a ditzy, dumb smile at her as you tilted your head. she rolled her eyes and yet her lips curved up. it was hard not to grin at you when you smiled at her like that. but you couldn't help it either, she was so sweet when she fussed over you, it made your heart melt and your knees almost give out.

it was mid-december and jackson was covered in snow and frost. you adored winter and everything about it. even when it was just rain, no snow, you couldn't help but absolutely adore cuddling up in front of the fire with your lover, making hot coco that you had found on a run and using one of the old dvd players to watch some sappy christmas movie that again you and ellie went scowering for on a run.

you remembered blissfully, the very first one you had found.

it was merely approaching november, but you were a christmas finatic so naturally, you were already humming little christmas jingles that joel had showed you and ellie on the guitar. you dreamed of a normal christmas, without the apocalypse, with a santa clause and elves, with everyone dressed in red and green with little santa hats on their heads. you dreamed of putting up a christmas tree that you had bought, then again, you did adore the pine trees tommy and joel always found for the community of jackson, just as you adored putting it up with ellie in your shared living room.

upon seeing everyone elses christmas trees, you realised you and ellie had sort of failed the task. everyone chose set colours, whether it be red, or silver, maybe even black and gold whereas yours and ellie's tree was covered from head to toe in many different coloured baubles, green, purple, pink, red, yellow, you name it, it was stuck on the tree. along with the beeds and tinsel you had both found together, wrapping it all nicely. and of course, ellie always lifted you to put the star on the tree because she adored your excited giggle just as much as you adored christmas.

while you didn't have a santa clause, you still heard stories of the old saint nicholas from joel miller. sure, you knew he wasn't real in the real world anyway, but the thought of parents struggling to pretend to be a make-believe man in the sky just so they could see the happy smiles on their childrens faces, it was beyond admirable, the thought too made your heart swoon.

ellie never understood your fixation with the big fat man who fell down chimney's, but she always shared stories with you on what her friends used to tell her when she was younger, the older people of the boston quarantine zone would tell her all kinds of folklore and fairytails of the man, so of course she just had to share them with you too.

you were both on patrol, searching the area when you came across an old dvd store, so, of course, you both dived in as fast as you could. you were always one for movies. "careful." ellie muttered, lifting a large branch out of your way so you could enter the run down building. it looked desperate from the outside, as though it was merely remains of what a dvd store used to be. but upon entering, you and ellie both realised that the only damage was to the outside, for the inside was... ethereal, unlike anything you had ever seen before.

it was massive, so large that when you glanced up, you almost felt queasy of how high the building was. your eyes as big as saucers, your mouth hanging open, ellie just had to chuckle at your face. but you paid no mind, turning to grasp her hand. "c'mon, let's look!" tugging her along as she shook her head, still chuckling.

"okay, baby, just calm down." though, she knew you would indefinitely not calm down any time soon, and she didn't really want you to, for that pretty look on your face was enough to make her own heart melt, eyes boring into your face, gazing at you with eyes filled with so much love and acclamation, she truly wished to spend a million more days, a thousand more christmas', she wished to spend the rest of her future with you and she would. one day, she'd ask the question, one day. but you were both still young then, as you were now. so she'd wait, because she knew you would too.

it didn't take long for you both to become engrosed in the dvd's, flicking through as many as you could find. you had a pile, ones in which you would bring home today. of course, the dvd store was beyond huge, you surely wouldn't look through everything within a month, let alone a day. "oh my god!" ellie turned, brows knitted together at your loud yell. "look, ellie, look!" shoving a dvd in her face.

"what is it?" she laughed at you, taking it into her hands so she could push it down, away from her face and gaze at the cover. the title read 'the muppet christmas carol.' you and ellie had watched a number of the muppets, never had you thought there was a christmas version. the cover showed a picture of cermet the frog, another little frog sitting on his shoulder and standing next to them was miss piggy along with gonzo, swinging from a pole, all covered in snow.

she lowered the dvd to see your face, big bright eyes staring up at her. "Isn't it amazing!" you were over the moon. "can we watch it tonight?!"

ellie chuckled once more, hand reaching out to tuck some hair behind your ear, she loved when you were excited, so much so that it made her beyond dumb. "of course we can." she'd just about agree to anything you asked. pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head, watching as your face heated up in a pink blush. "now c'mon, we need to get back before maria thinks we're doing something else." wriggling her brows. that didn't just make you go pink, you went an insane red colour.

and that very suddenly became you and ellie's 'thing.' you'd constantly be looking for dvd stores on your patrols, always circling back to that one, taking a dig at boxes upon boxes. sure, you were both looking for any kind of dvd, but you knew it had been a good day when you found a christmas dvd. and very suddenly, your supply closet was overflowing with boxes.

however, not all days of december were filled with such joy.

"you need to listen to me more often." the girl stated as she kicked the front door closed, dropping her bags so she could cup your hands again, rubbing her own off yours so she could heat them up with friction.

"i do listen to you." you claimed and ellie couldn't help but purse her lips for she knew you did listen to her but sometimes that warm and fuzzy feeling inside of you when she told you what to do simply got too much for you to handle and you found yourself listening but not listening. "jus forgot."

a blanket of snow had fallen upon jackson at this time of year, so the cold nipped just a little harder, and the sicknesses bit a little rougher. she knew how prone you were to sicknesses, just as you were to accidents due to you being just so clumsy. she told you this morning to wear gloves and yet you left your gloves, hat and scarf at home, the only thing you actually showed up to the stables with that would help was a long jacket. she kept one enlarged hand over your two small ones, the other coming up to tuck hair behind your ear, thumb tracing the line of your jaw. she loved you but oh, how you'd be the death of her. "you go upstairs and get on some fluffy pijama's okay, i'm gonna light the fire 'n i'll be right up, alright?"

"okay, ellie." big grin on your face as you reached your face up, pressing a kiss to her soft lips. it wasn't a long sensual one, a small peck and yet so much passion was pushed into the little way your lips pressed against her own. her hand smacked your bum on your way causing you to turn and playfully glare, hands coming to cover your behind as you made your way up the stairs, ellie could only laugh.

the girl knew you took downright forever to get ready so she didn't have a care in the world as she found herself placing sticks into the fire, loading it up with coal and so on. by the time she was finished, you still weren't down so she made her way up to the shared bedroom of yours. she could hear you getting dressed in the bathroom, so while you were busy, she too decided to get into comfortable clothes. a grey baggy-ish sweatpants along with a white long tee, sort of tight but loose enough. she rolled her eyes with a smirk when you still were not ready. no matter how many times she told you hurry, you never did, always getting distracted by the little things, whether it be the little droplets of condensation on the mirror, or tying something on your top. your thoughts ran too fast, you'd get distracted, fail at tying it. stop, try again, think too fast, fail, stop, try again and again and again until finally, you yelled ellie's name and asked for her help. but she never got mad at you, on the contrary, she simply smiled and laughed while you stared up at her with big puppy eyes.

you found yourself ready soon after ellie headed back downstairs. you were in, as told, a fluffy pijamas. tommy miller had gifted it to you one chirstmas, it was a grey pijamas with three polar bears sitting on the front of the jumper. you loved the clothing dearly, always slipping it on in december, you loved the feeling of being cozy in the cold. it was one of the many reasons why you'd pick winter over summer over and over again until your last breath.

when you came down from the stairs, you spotted ellie sitting in front of the dvd player, between the now lighting fire and the coffee table in which two mugs of hot coco was sitting upon. you couldn't help the way your face lit up, that massive grin on your face as your eyes began to crinkle. the girl turned around, controller in her hand as she too matched your smile. "took your time." she joked, a soft look etched to her face. "can you grab the blanket, baby?"

you nodded your head, muttering a small 'okay' before making your way towards the couch and picking up the checkered brown and green blanket that reminded you of how close christmas was.

it didn't take long for the movie to start. ellie decided on the muppets christmas carol again, just as she always had, stating it was her favourite. you too loved it, so who were you to deny? ellie wrapped the blanket around her back, sitting up against the lit fire as you sat between her legs, your back to her stomach as her arms enveloped you, wrapping the blanket around you too.

the feeling made you drousy, the room was supposed to be dark, however, the lit fire, the tv playing the movie and the little christmas lights that danced on the trees made it hard not to alluminate the entire room. however, with your head falling on ellie's shoulder from behind, the taste of hot chocolate in your mouth and the feeling of her arms, enveloping you as if you were a baby.

well, you couldn't help the way your eyes began to close, your lips pushed together into a pretty pout as you slowly succumbed to sleep in the embrace of your lover.

main masterlist/ellie's masterlist

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berryhobii · 4 months

Text

Class In Session PT 2(jhs x reader)

Pairing: DanceInstructor!Jung Hoseok x Stripper!Black!Female!Reader

Word Count: 2K+

Warnings: Smut(18+ but I don’t control what you consume), a sexy pole dance to Chris Brown’s Take You Down because that 3J performance still haunts me, a little nipple play, oral(f receiving), eating it from the back, dumbification, dirty talk, size kink, begging, BigD!Hoseok, Hoseok goes from shy and kind of nervous to daddy and in control, pet names(pretty girl, pretty), reader is called tiny by Hoseok but I didn’t really specify much, doggy style where reader is standing but bent over, reader is flexible, ankles behind ears position, a little clit play, clothed s*x?, unprotected s*x(don’t do this unless you’re sure and clean), creampies

A/N: This is pure filth with a little sugar sprinkled in🩵🩵Read Part 1 here. This can be read as a stand alone

“I always assumed you never invited me over because your house was a mess or something but this is a pretty good reason too.”

Hoseok marveled at the vertical pole that stood smack dab in your living room. He hadn’t even had a chance to really acknowledge any of your other furniture or the home cooked meal you were preparing him. His attention was immediately taken by this eye catcher.

Sheepishly chuckling, you turned off the stove and walked over to stand next to him.

“I thought it would be a little too…..hard to explain.”

“You know, I honestly don’t think I would have asked about it.” He grabbed the pole, yanking on it a little to check its sturdiness. “I probably would have just pretended not to see it.”

“Oh yeah? Why?”

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t have wanted to overstep. I think seeing this pole before we were official would have been too much.”

Tilting your head and crossing your arms, you stated, “You’ve literally seen me pole dance a bunch of times.”

“Yeah but that’s in a more professional setting. In private would have been a different story.”

At that moment, an idea struck you. One that should stamp your name in the history books. A Cheshire grin that matched your devious eyes spread on your face, unbeknownst to Hoseok who was still studying the pole.

“Do you want to see a routine I prepared for my next class?”

Hoseok’s heart could have leap out of his chest and ran the Boston marathon. It took everything in him to keep a straight face and not get down on his knees and praise you like the angel you were.

Swallowing, he tapped into his professional side, slowly turning his head to look at you before croaking out a, “sure.”

You could see right through him but decided not to pressure it.

“Awesome. You wait here. I’m gonna go change.”

He didn’t even have time to react before you were already gone.

Change?

Hoseok was sweating. He know he looked crazy from how he kept sitting on the couch, getting up, pacing, and then sitting back down. You’ve been in your room for less than 5 minutes and he felt like Jigsaw was about to come out of nowhere on that tricycle. This had to be some sort of game, right? You were just fooling around with him. Teasing, that’s all this was.

Then the clicking sound of your platforms rang in his ears, his entire body stiffening and and he knew this wasn’t a damn game!

His back was facing you but don’t think his rigid reaction had escaped your sharp eyes. Like you said before, Hoseok has seen you pole dance a bunch of times and a few of those times had been when you were alone. However, this would be like giving him his own personal little strip show.

Truthfully, after that fateful night where Hoseok found out everything, you didn’t stop being a stripper. You thought about it. Was your job more important than Hoseok? It payed the bills which was a necessity and Hoseok was your partner which was also important. He insisted that your job really didn’t bother him that much. While he still wasn’t super comfortable with the idea of his girlfriend flaunting her body in anyone’s face that wasn’t his own, he understood that it was still your job and he didn’t want to be that guy who told you how to make your money.

At least you only went twice a week and he accompanied you everytime just to keep an eye on you and any brazen drunkard who was stupid enough to cross the line. You assured him that the club’s security was very protective and there was even a barrier between the stage and the club goers. That reassurance still didn’t stop him from sitting off just to to side of the stage during your sets.

Don’t worry though, you always made sure to flash him a little extra whenever you rounded the side he was on. That let him know that all these people could look(ugh) but you were going home with him at the end of the night.

Once you were close enough to him, your hand reached out to run across his shoulders. “You okay, baby?” The low purr of your voice made him shiver, goosebumps pebbling across his skin.

“Y-yeah.”

“Why don’t you sit down?”

Yes. He should sit down because your touch and voice were about to take his knees clean out the frame.

Gulping in an attempt to quench his dry throat, he stiffly moved to the couch.

And the sight that met him when he finally turned around was enough to make him want to pay all of your bills for the rest of your life. Fuck that job. He’d throw money at you right now if it meant you’d be his personal stripper.

Clad in a light purple nylon romper that was practically see through with all the purposefully placed cut outs that allowed him to see practically every inch of your skin, same colored platforms on your feet and probably the tiniest white thong that he’s ever seen in his life.

He’s never gotten hard so fast. Thank goodness he was wearing sweats because he could have split the zipper on a pair of jeans from the hard on he was sporting.

Smirking, you walked over to the coffee table to retrieve your phone and hooked it to your Bluetooth speaker. From that first guitar riff of Take You Down, Hoseok was about ready to explode.

Placing your phone back down, you sauntered over to the pole, grabbing it with both hands before starting your routine.

Hoseok’s eyes followed your every movement; from the dip of your spine when you bent over to the ripples of your ass and the curves of your breasts. And whenever you bent over, he’d get an HD view of how your cunt practically suffocated against that sorry excuse for a thong. And you were going to be teaching this to a class? He’d be damned.

The thud of your platforms when you touched the floor after spinning in the air for a little sounded incredibly loud in his ears. The song had drawn to a close meaning the end of your routine, right? He could finally breathe, right? RIGHT?!

Like a lion stalking its prey, you strode over to where he sat, your devious and cat like eyes staring him down like you were about to devour him.

His fingers twitched when you finally reached him, a light sweat had broken out at the back of his neck and his heart was thudding a thousand miles a minute. Your feminine perfume blinded his senses and the touch of your hands on his shoulders made him feel hot all over.

Your fingertips lightly trailed down his jawline to his bobbing Adam’s apple, eye contact never breaking as you leaned closer to where your lips were just a breath away.

“What’d you think?”

What did he think?! Was that a rhetorical question? You looked like sex on legs and just spun around a pole to a song that people made babies to and you want to know what he thought?!

“Don’t teach your class that.”

You teasingly smiled with a tilt of your head. “Why not?”

With a quickness, Hoseok was yanking you down on his lap, your warm body pressed right against his. He wasted no time in pulling you in for a breath stealing kiss, a rough one that had you heating up like a pot of boiling water.

He released your lips with a ‘pop’, your chest heaving and eyes slightly glazed over from the arousal that had been simmering in your belly since you started.

“Because I only want you to perform it for me.”

Running your hands up the back of his neck and through his hair, you whispered, “private dances are extra.”

Fuck it.

Your giggles were boisterous when he hoisted you up, your feet locking behind his back. His lips attacked your collarbone and neck, hands gripping your ass like his personal stress ball.

Tossing you down on the bed, he was all over you, kissing and touching any piece of skin he could reach.

“You’re so pretty. My pretty girl. So small and cute.” He whispered lovingly against the skin of your neck, hands trailing up and down your sides.

A flutter of heat burst in your tummy under the endearment, your response just a wide smile and a tender caress of your fingers up the nape of his neck. Was this how falling in love felt? If so, you wished you could have it forever. Only with him….

Nimble fingers traveled from your sides to your barely covered breasts, velvety brown nipples peeking out through the material of your romper. A pleasurable sigh fell from your lips when his thumbs ran across them, the stimulation progressively hardening them to stiff peaks. His kisses went from your neck, across your collarbone and down to your nipples to suck one into his mouth.

He made sure to give the other attention, pinching and rolling the bud between his thumb and index finger before switching sides. You couldn’t stop squirming under his ministrations, part from the tingling pleasure of him playing with your nipples and the other part from the throbbing of your pussy as arousal boiled in your belly.

“Hoseok….”

Hoseok chuckled lowly at your whiny tone. Releasing your nipple with a ‘pop’, his glittering eyes zoned in on your beautiful face; your pouting lips and almond shaped eyes that were practically begging for him.

Getting up, he backed up off of the bed. You sat up on your elbows, eyebrow raising in curiosity.

“Stand up.” He demands, holding out his hand for you. You took it, standing on your high heeled feet. Suddenly, you were turned around, a hand pushing your shoulder blades down until you were bent over. He groaned at how easily you moved, mentally sending praises to the flexibility gods. Dropping to his knees, his warm palms met your hips and smoothed over the curve of your ass. His thumbs dug into the skin of your inner thighs, eyes taking in the imprint of your cunt and the patch of wetness that soaked your tiny thong.

“How much did this romper cost?” He randomly asked.

You were confused but answered regardless. “Uhhhh like $30?”

“I’ll get you another one.”

Now it was your turn to be shocked as Hoseok gripped your romper and pulled, ripping it off with a loud sound. Your surprised gasp melted into a moan as his hands pulled your panties to the side to suck your clit into his hot mouth .

Your body shudders, that burning feeling climbing and climbing as Hoseok’s tongue becomes more firm and precise on your already needy clit. You don’t think you’ve ever gotten this close so fast. Hoseok must really have an affect on you.

He would probably be thinking the same thing the way he was moaning and slurping up every bit of wetness your cunt offered. He’s been wanting to get his hands on you for weeks but he’s been taking it slow as it not pressure you. But now that he’s had a taste, he’s never letting you go.

Cock straining in his jeans, he pulled away from your pussy, lips and chin shining with your slick. He slapped you on the ass a few times for good measure, your hips wiggling side to side and enticing him even more if possible.

“Fuck, put it in, Hoseok.” Your desperate voice begged.

A part of him wanted to tease you a little more but considering he was just as needy as you, he decided to pocket it for another time. He didn’t even bother taking his pants all the way off, just yanking them down until his cock was freed. Hand gripping his cock, he lined up with your waiting entrance.

The stretch burned in the best way, the air getting squeezed out of your lungs as he pushed past your tight ring of muscles.

Honestly, you already knew Hoseok was packing when you met him. He was wearing sweats the first time you met him and you definitely caught sight of the way his print pressed against the material when you had walked in on him practicing. There were also those few times you’ve caught him adjusting himself in his jeans. You tried hard to ignore it, not wanting to be seen as thirsty especially once he found out what your job was but that was easier said than done. Hoseok was smoking hot; fit, handsome and he had a big dick? It was like all of your prayers had been answered and now you were about to get your back blown out by him? It almost felt too good to be true. Way too good.

Gritting his teeth at the way your pulsing walls constricted around him, he paused, “you gotta relax, baby or I won’t be able to stretch this little pussy out like it deserves.” His dirty talk only made you tighten up more, his voice scratching your brain just right.

You tried to regulate your breathing, hands gripping the sheets as a way to keep you from floating away.

“Y-you’re so b-big….ahhh. I can’t….”

“Does it hurt?” He asked and you shook your head in response.

Readjusting his feet, he gripped both sides of your waist and took a deep breath before yanking your hips back. A scream ripped from your throat as his cock filled you all the way up, the head pressing incredibly close to your cervix and against every hidden spot in your clenching heat.

Mouth dropped open, you tried to form words but nothing would come out but airy gasps and strangled inhales.

Hoseok was barely holding on himself—your tight walls made it almost hard to move and he could feel your wetness already leaking down his balls. It was embarrassing how close he was to busting his load and you’ve barely done anything.

Pulling back halfway, he gave you a few experimental thrusts, your leaking arousal improving the fluidity of the glide through your walls. Even these half strokes were throwing you for a loop, pleasure burning across your skin and stirring in your belly until you felt ready to cum already.

Hands digging into your hips, Hoseok started up a fast pace, his hips clapping off your ass with a resounding smack. Your hands bunched up the sheets, face buried in the bed as you let out moans and calls of his name.

Hoseok’s head hung low as he stuffed you full, trying so hard to hold himself back but the way your cunt was trying to break his cock off was making it difficult. Paired with your moans and the visual of your bent over for him and he was ready to ascend.

Weakly turning your head, you looked at him your watery eyes. “Hoseok, ‘m gonna cum.”

Fuck.

Pulling out of you, he roughly maneuvered your body until you were on your back. His cock throbbed at the sight of your heaving chest and spit soaked lips—ripped up romper and high heels just adding to the visual. He grabbed your ankles and bent your legs back before instructing you to, “hold them”.

Deciding to take it a step further, you bent your legs even further, bringing your arms behind your knees until your ankles were effectively locked behind your head.

Hoseok swore he heard angels singing. Your glistening cunt and winking ass were on display for him like a fucking full coarse meal and he was about to dig in. Kicking his pants the rest of the way off, he climbed onto the bed, lifting you up a bit so that your ass would rest on the tops of his thighs.

He grabbed his stiff cock, slapping it against your wet pussy a few times. You moaned at the sharp sting against your clit, greedy hole spilling out more slick in anticipation. With your hands free, you could reach down, spreading your slippery lips open for him.

With a flutter of your lashes, you begged again, “Seokie….please put it in.”

With a smug grin, he lined up before slowly pushing inside. You gasped, mouth dropping and eyes focused on how your tiny hole stretched to accommodate him. The sight was enough to send you head first into a body shaking orgasm.

Hoseok felt the way you clenched impossibly tight, your head falling back against your feet only to return upright.

Squeezing the meat of your thighs, he sank the rest of the way inside. “Did your little cunt just cum, hmm? Just from me filling you up, my pretty girl?” Pulling back, he thrusted inside once, twice, three times knocking staggered moans out of you with each push and pull. With this position, he seemed to reach even deeper to the point where you swore he was rearranging your guts.

His hips sped up a bit, stroking you long and deep for you to feel every inch he had to offer you. Everything was so wet and hot, the squelching sounds of your cunt spurring him on until you were cumming again.

Drool leaked out of the side of your mouth to trail down your chin, tears finally spilling over as Hoseok sent you spiraling. You felt like his cock was all the way in your throat, invading every space in your body until you could only think of him.

Hoseok’s grunts and moans clashed against your whimpers and cries of his name, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with every push of his hips. The sight of your blissful and fucked stupid face making him want to devour you.

Grabbing your face with one hand, he squeezed your cheeks until your lips puckered, your unfocused eyes staring up at him. “This tiny cunt is squeezing me so tight. It’s all mine, isn’t it? Those fuckers at your job can watch but who gets to fuck you? Answer me.”

“Y-you! It’s yours!” You babbled as your body shook with yet another orgasm. The sheets were definitely ruined by now but you could worry about that when Hoseok was done knocking your brain loose.

His hips sped up again, carving his cock into your stomach where you’d never forget. “That’s right. It’s mine. A-all mine.”

Bringing your hand down, you began to rub at your clit in fast circles, alternating rubbing and slapping it a few times and propelling yourself into yet another orgasm but this one was so strong that your vision actually went black for a second.

Hoseok wasn’t far behind, thrusting his hips a few more times before burying himself all the way inside your luscious walls and emptying his cum into you. He weakly thrusted a few more times before pulling out and collapsing next to you.

You untangled yourself from your contorted position, legs falling limply as you both struggled to regain your breaths.

After a few moments, Hoseok spoke up. “Oh my god. That was…..amazing.”

Your giggle made him smile. “That was so cliche and cheesy.” You moved around to grab his hand, lacing your fingers together.

“Just being honest.”

You hummed, turning over on your side to face him. He turned his head to the side, captivating brown eyes locking with yours.

“It was really good for me too.”

He brought your hands up to place a kiss on the back of yours, that dazzling smile lighting up his face. Those flutters you had earlier breaking out into full blown butterflies, heart pounding in your chest as you gazed upon the man who had stolen your heart. Now you knew, this is was falling in love felt like and it felt so wonderful and light and….

Perfect.

#bts #bts x black reader #bts smut #bts fic #bts imagines #hoseok x reader #jung hoseok #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader

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corroded-hellfire · 2 years

Note

Eddie Munson who doesn’t have a filter and probably blurts out whatever he’s thinking and accidentally says something that hurts the readers feelings and he feels awful about it especially bc he doesn’t notice right away and is super sweet in his apologizing 🥺

I love this so much because it literally lines up with something I was just thinking about yesterday! Thank you for sending this ❤

Words: 2k

"Really?" Mike asks, raising his eyebrows at Gareth. "You think Sara Hawk is going to go to prom with you?"

"Why not?" Gareth responds, puffing out his chest. The entirety of the Hellfire Club lunch table snickers and Gareth glares at each person in turn. "What's so funny? I don't see any of you having dates."

“Hey, my girlfriend lives in another state,” Dustin says.

“Mine too,” Mike adds.

“You two aren’t even old enough to go,” Eddie says, reaching over and knocking Dustin’s hat off his head.

“Then where’s your date, Dungeon Master?” Jeff asks.

Eddie shrugs and lifts a handful of pretzels to his mouth.

“Don’t want one,” he says through the mouthful. “Prom is dumb.”

“And you?” Gareth asks, turning to you. Your laughter at the possibility of one of the prettiest girls in school accepting his invitation to prom didn’t escape his notice.

You open your mouth to respond but Eddie speaks before you get the chance.

“Please,” he says with a snort. “Like she’s going to prom.”

The table goes silent as your face pinches up in a frown. Eddie is oblivious to your reaction, though.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask.

“Oh, come on,” Eddie says with a chuckle. “I can’t imagine you getting a fancy dress or wearing high heels.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you let out a scoff.

“I am a girl, you know.”

“Yeah, Eddie, she -.” Dustin gets cut off by Eddie’s laugh and booming response.

“Yeah, but not like that.”

Trying to come up with a retort is a failed effort as the bell rings, signifying the end of the lunch period. Dustin and Jeff give you sympathetic glances as everyone gathers their things to get to their next periods. Luckily, you wouldn’t see Eddie until the last period of the day, which would give you time to cool off.

But when Eddie strolls into Mrs. O’Donnell’s class casually, as if he didn’t offend you in multiple ways, you feel your rage still going strong. So what if you typically wore T-shirts and jeans with sneakers? So what if makeup wasn’t usually your thing or you hung out with guys most of the time? It didn’t mean you weren’t a girl and that you didn’t want to be treated as such. Eddie was oblivious to the fact that that had hurt you enough as it was, never mind the fact that it hurt doubly because you were in love with him. The guy you had been harboring the biggest crush on for years didn’t even see you as someone who would go to prom, let alone want to go with him as his date.

The eraser of a pencil jabs you from behind and you roll your eyes. You know he’s not going to give up, but you choose to ignore him anyway.

“Pssst.”

The temptation to put your hand behind your back and flip him off is strong, but you manage to restrain yourself and take a deep breath to keep your composure. But he wouldn’t be Eddie if he wasn’t a persistent, annoying man child at times.

His shoe knocks against the bottom of your seat and you spin around to face him, eyes blazing.

“What?” you ask through gritted teeth. How this man is even now unable to tell something is wrong is beyond you.

“Did you get the answer to number four?” he asks.

“No,” you tell him before turning back around. That wasn’t true, of course. You’d finished that number a while ago and were now on question number nine. Glancing back up to number four, you decide Eddie can figure out the date of The Boston Tea Party on his own.

Eddie finally figures out that something is up when you bolt out of the classroom once the bell rings, not waiting for him to walk out with you.

“Wait!” he calls as you exit to the hallway, but you keep going, pushing your way to the school’s exit. “What the hell,” he mumbles to himself as he does his best to follow.

Eddie is still stuck in the sea of students when you finally get to the parking lot. Eddie was supposed to drive you home, but you were damned if you were going to be stuck in the van with him. Your eyes scan the people walking to their cars and your eyes fall on a familiar redhead.

“Vickie!” you call as you jog up to her.

She turns around and smiles as she sees you approach.

“Hey! What’s up?”

“Do you think you could give me a ride home today?” you ask.

Vickie frowns and she looks behind you, presumably for Eddie.

“Yeah sure,” she says. “But what about-.”

“He’s pissing me off today,” you interrupt her.

“Boys,” Vickie says with a knowing sigh and a sympathetic nod.

“Tell me about it.”

“Well,” Vickie says. “If you want to avoid him, we should go. He just came out of the building.”

Without looking behind you, you follow her over to her car and climb inside. You peek over as you’re buckling your seatbelt and lock eyes with Eddie. He looks confused and you selfishly feel a little happy about that. Let him figure out what’s wrong.

Eddie stares as he watches Vickie’s car leave the parking lot, you in the passenger’s seat. He couldn’t remember the last time he wasn’t the one to drive you home.

“Hey, Eddie,” Dustin says, coming up behind him. No response, Eddie just stares ahead. “What’s going on?”

“Did I do something?” Eddie asks, rounding on the freshman.

“What do you mean?”

“I just…” Eddie trails off and turns back around to where Vickie’s car had exited the student lot. “Why is she ignoring me? I always drive her home.”

It clicks together in Dustin’s brain, and he lets out a sigh.

“Dude.”

Eddie turns back to Dustin, putting his hands on his hips. He raises his eyebrows in question.

“You basically said she’s not a girl,” Dustin says.

“What?” Eddie shakes his head. “I never said that.”

Dustin groans and rubs his hands over his face. “Yes, you did.”

“No,” Eddie reiterates. “I said she wasn’t like those girls who go to prom.”

“Seriously?” Dustin asks. “Do you hear yourself when you talk?”

“Listen, Henderson,” Eddie says, leaning in towards him. “You better get to the point and start making sense.”

“Okay,” Dustin says with a sigh. “How would you feel if,” he pauses, thinking of someone he could use as an example, “Nancy. How would you feel if Nancy wanted to go out on a date but said you weren’t that kind of guy?”

Eddie’s eyebrows scrunch together in confusion.

“I don’t want to date Nancy.”

“Jesus Christ,” Dustin whines. “Just say you did! Say, you have a crush on Nancy, yes? With me so far? Okay, so say she was looking for someone to go on a date with and you’re right there. But she says you’re not the kind of guy who dates.”

“That would suck,” Eddie says with a shrug. “I’d be offended.”

“So, that’s basically what you said at lunch today.”

“No,” Eddie says, but he sounds less sure now.

“Yes,” Dustin argues.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s how it came out.”

“Well, shit,” Eddie says. He runs his hands over the top of his head and squeezes his eyes closed. “What do I do now?”

“Apologizing would be a good start,” Dustin says.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, nodding his head. “Yeah, okay.” He claps Dustin on the shoulder before digging his keys out of his pocket. He climbs in the van and pulls it out of the parking lot, tires squealing as he does so.

“Ugh, what the fuck do I do?” Eddie asks himself as he drives. “Flowers? No, she doesn’t like flowers. Shit, what do girls like?”

The brakes squeal as he pulls up to a red light and Eddie tightens his fingers against the steering wheel. He stares down at his hands and the idea hits him.

At home, you’ve changed into your most comfortable pair of sweatpants and hoodie. You’ve prepared your favorite snack and are about to settle in on the couch and watch a chick flick – which the guys would totally make fun of you for. If they thought of you as a girl at all, you think bitterly. Settling a blanket on your lap and reaching for the remote, you’re interrupted by the doorbell. You groan at the piercing ring and pull yourself up off the couch.

Yanking the door open, Eddie stands on the other side, out of breath and clutching a shopping bag.

“Um, hi,” you say, though it sounds more like a question.

“Hi,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You are a girl. You’re my favorite girl,” Eddie says. “I didn’t mean to hurt you before.”

You nod at him, not trusting your voice.

“I got you something,” he says, opening the bag.

“Eddie,” you sigh. “I don’t want you to buy my forgiveness.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m not trying to. This is something I’ve been meaning to get you anyway. And it felt like the right time. To show you that I think of you as the best kind of girl there is.”

He reaches out and offers you a small black box. You look at it skeptically before taking it out of his hand. Eddie watches you with careful eyes as you open the box and pull out the small silver piece of jewelry. It’s a slimmer, women’s version of the cross ring with the skulls that he wears.

“You’ve always said that you like it,” Eddie offers with a shrug. “And you know I was going to give you mine, but your hands are too small. And I guess that jewelry is kind of seen as a girly thing, but I wear a ton of it. So, fuck what people think is for guys and girls. We can have the same ring. We can like the same things. But I can still be a guy and you be a girl. Or did I make that sound really stupid?”

“No, Eddie,” you say, never taking your eyes off the ring in your hand. “It didn’t sound stupid at all.”

“Good,” he says through a relieved breath. He tentatively reaches forward and takes the ring from you. Your head snaps up to look at him in question, but you feel him gently slide the ring into place on your finger. The feeling of his hands so warm on yours and the stark contrast of the cold ring gives you goosebumps. Or maybe that was just the fact that Eddie was slipping a ring on your finger.

“Thank you,” you say. “I love it.”

“Are we okay?” Eddie asks quietly, looking at you from underneath his eyelashes.

“Yes.” As if you could ever say no to that face.

“Are you sure?” Eddie asks, reaching out and holding your ringed hand in his own.

“Yes, Eddie,” you say. “I’m sure.”

“Good.” Eddie grins, an infectious sight at any time, but even more so at this moment. “Because I want to ask you something and I don’t want you to think it’s part of the apology.”

“Eddie,” you say with a sigh, already knowing what he’s going to say. “You hate prom.”

“How would I know for real?” he asks with a shrug. “I’ve never been.”

“You hate dressing up,” you tell him.

“It’s only for a few hours,” he says. “Besides, it would be worth it to see you all dressed up.”

You duck your head shyly, hoping to avoid Eddie seeing the heat that’s come to your cheeks.

“You really think I’d look good in a fancy dress and heels?” you ask.

“Are you kidding me?” he asks, raising his eyebrows. “You look fucking gorgeous in those sweats right now.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #request

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missredherring · 8 months

Text

A Flower in February

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rating: T

Word Count: 2k

Summary: When he’s finished cleaning the scrapes on your face his thumb swipes tenderly over the curve of your chin once.

“I'll take care of it.”

Contents: Boston QZ!Joel. mugging. hand-to-hand violence. whump. wound cleaning.

A/N: This is a my Secret Valentine gift for @hoeruiner.

I hope you like this, Sarah! I tried to keep it in line with the info you gave.

Thank you @covetyou for reading over this. <3

You only notice the date because you glance at the calendar to check when your next shift is on your way out of work. The calendar is old and yellowed, from before when holidays were still celebrated as special occasions and not memories. The red of the “14” is faded too, but the color still draws your eye and sparks recognition in your brain.

February 14th. Valentine’s Day. Huh. It’s depressing that your plans haven’t changed after 20 years and an apocalypse: going home after work with a good chance of spending the night alone.

The ration cards stuffed in your jacket pocket cheer you up a little. Payday hasn’t changed either, and the ability to trade for questionably fresh groceries at the market tomorrow is something to look forward to. You head out into the dark streets of the QZ towards your apartment.

It’s fucking cold this time of year. The temperature barely rises even with a full day of sun, and it’s windy tonight too. There are piles of snow caught in the nooks and crannies of buildings and alleyways, radiating even more cold air. At least it isn’t tinged the same dirty gray-brown shade from before, with car exhaust and dirt kicked up by tires discoloring everything it touches. You’ll still find some of that on the main road, but not here in the backways that twist around the city.

A gust of wind blows through and goes right through the heaviest jacket you own, chilling you to the bone. You grit your teeth and hunker down, trying to cover as much exposed skin as you can. That’s the only way you see it: the flash of vibrant color so out of place in a city that only has faded colors available.

There, sticking through a chain link fence bordering what must have been a parking lot at some point but has grown over into a meadow, is a purple bloom of a flower. You take a few steps closer to get a better look. You’d crouch down, but with this cold seeping into your joints you might not be able to get back up, so you bend over awkwardly and try not to lock your knees.

It’s dark, but there’s just enough light from a streetlamp in the distance that you can make out the shape of the petals. They’re too sharp and close together to be a pansy, and facing up instead of down like a snowdrop, not to say anything of it being purple and not white. So… most likely a crocus, you think. Being able to identify the small bloom brings a happy feeling, with the bittersweet memory of when you had time to indulge in a frivolous activity like flower gardening. You could pick it and bring the spot of color into your apartment. It’s a happy thought that dies and quickly as the flower would.

“Idiot.”

It’s the only warning you get with the wind howling in your ears masking the shuffled steps behind you. They’re right: you’re an idiot for standing in an alley looking at a flower alone at night.

You aren’t the only one happy about payday.

At least they’re quick about it. You don’t know how many there are, but one grabs you from behind and another delivers a fast, brutal punch to your middle. While you heave and gasp they rifle through your pockets and take your ration cards. They give you a few more hits for good measure, and it’s not the blows to your face that does it; it’s the momentum with which they send your head smacking back into the brick wall that makes your vision swim and dim.

At first all you can make out is ratty shoes and pants with more holes than them, but then you force your eyes up up up when all they want to do is close and you catch glimpses of their faces in the same weak light that had bounced off the crocus and caught your attention. The QZ is a contained area with a small population, and they aren’t even wearing anything to cover their faces, just worn beanies tugged down low. You don’t know their names, but you recognize the faces of the group of thugs who like to crowd people at the market and intimidate them into giving up whatever they have to leave them alone. You still can’t hear them when they run away, the ringing in your ears is loud until you finally give in to it and pass out.

You don’t know how long it takes for your body to shake itself back to consciousness. Taking stock of your body as you get up is easy: everything hurts, but nothing hurts more than everything else. You don’t give the flower another look as you start to drag yourself home.

The wind is quiet now and you hear the heavy footsteps coming this time. Fear zips through you, freezing you in place; had they come back to take even more from you? But then your name is called out in a voice that makes your body start moving again. That voice means safety and warmth and you’re stumbling towards it on shaking legs until you crash into Joel Miller’s solid body.

He grunts as he absorbs your impact and his hands come up on your shoulders to keep you standing.

“What’re you still doing out here?”

You open your mouth to answer him, but your teeth are chattering too much to get anything out. Great clouds of hot breath steam out of him as he jerks his head back towards your building.

“C’mon.”

Joel’s dark form is easy for your aching eyes to focus on. It’s a mindless act: following where he leads. Your feet could follow his lead in your sleep, so being cold, beaten up, and maybe concussed is no problem.

The lights are on in your apartment when you get in. You’re pretty sure everything had been off when you left, and wonder how long Joel had been here, waiting for you. You sit down at the kitchen table and close your eyes, safe in this room with him.

The sounds of Joel moving around the kitchen are nice. You play a little game, trying to ignore the throbbing, painful points on your body by guessing what he’s doing based on the sounds he’s making.

Water from the faucet filling the dented kettle and the clank of setting it on the burner. The click of the stove knobs as he turns it on. The creak of his weight on the floorboards as he waits for the water to boil. His hum at the creaking cabinet door when he reaches in for the bottle of alcohol he keeps there. The slosh of the bottle as he takes notice of how much has been emptied since he last poured himself a drink. If he asks, you can account for every swig you’ve taken on the nights when you want to dull your senses, on the nights when he’s not with you.

The noises are domestic and soothing, but the kettle’s whistle is like another blow to your temple and you can’t smother the noise of discomfort you make.

Joel’s footsteps pause, but then the noises of him pouring you a mug of the hot water continues and those footsteps continue until you can feel him in front of you.

You let yourself have the few extra seconds it takes for him to set the mug on the table before you force your eyes open and look at him.

He’s already frowning, suspicious about the entire situation, but he gets his confirmation when you have to tip your head back to make eye contact and your face is illuminated in the harsh overhead light.

His big hand is on your jaw before you can blink, but his grip gentles when you wince and he gently turns your face this way and that to see the extent of the damage. His eyes trail down your neck and across the stretched out neckline of your shirt, all the bare skin he can see, and his jaw rocks hard enough to capsize a boat on a turbulent ocean.

“What happened?”

There’s no getting out of this. The demand in his voice and the anger sparking in his eyes makes you feel warm for the first time that night. It stokes dark emotions, the ones you don’t like to dwell on too much, and the first thread of satisfaction unfurls in your belly. You know giving him names will mean bad things for those men, but you can’t find it in you to care. Maybe they knocked it out of you with their fists.

So you tell him, giving him the identifying features you remember. He’s quiet as he lets you talk uninterrupted, but the emotions that cross his face are enough to give you an idea of his thoughts. He snatches a clean washcloth from somewhere and wets it with the alcohol, the fumes curling into your nose when he presses it to your cheekbone.

His brows furrow when you mention the flower, and you’re thankful that you can use the firm press of the washcloth on scraped skin to camouflage the wince at the reminder of how unsuited you are for a world like this.

When he’s finished cleaning the scrapes on your face his thumb swipes tenderly over the curve of your chin once.

“I'll take care of it.”

You don't even have the urge to protest, to tell him he doesn't have to. You want him to take care of it, to take care of you. You want someone to care. And while it’s not bouquets of flowers and candies that melt in your mouth, the warmth from the mug is seeping into your hands and his touch wipes away the violence that clings to your skin. He’ll take that violence and return it tenfold, you know it.

His movements are filled with purpose and he only pauses with his hand on the door to give you a stern look.

“Lock up behind me.”

The next day is just like the one before it. Unable to do anything else without a fresh supply of ration cards, you go to work and try to ignore the pain that has settled in your body. You don’t even mind it that much, it’s nice to feel something else.

You’re not stupid though, so when your shift is over you make sure to leave from the front entrance when a few others are heading out as well. It’s a small group, but they scatter and go their separate ways, their steps quickening after they notice the figure leaning on the corner of the building. From that spot he’d be able to see both exits, and when he sees you he pushes off to stand tall, waiting. Your feet move on their own before you completely register the surprise of his presence, falling into place beside him and matching his uneven stride.

A nudge at your hand snaps you out of your whirling thoughts and makes you look down. His hands are always ruddy from the cold, but now dark purple joins the red and there’s a couple of places where the skin broke over the hard bone of his knuckles. The stack of ration cards trembles just once in his grip, maybe from the wind or a movement of his muscles, but you take it from him and stare down at it. There, tucked into the string securing the cards together, is the crocus blossom. A droplet of moisture that had clung to the snapped stem transfers to your fingertip when you touch it. He must’ve done it while he was waiting.

“Thank you, Joel.”

Joel is watching you when you look up from the cards. His dark eyes are calm, his jaw moving as he takes in your expression. He chews on the sentiment he sees there as if working it over will make it more palatable, something easier to swallow, and you hope he doesn’t spit it out.

#Joel Miller x F!Reader #Joel Miller x Female Reader #x Reader #Joel Miller fanfiction #Pedro Pascal Character Fanfiction #SpaceSistersSecretValentine

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