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littlelou22 · 1 year

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you’re my sunshine | joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you and joel are polar opposites. you are sunshine while he is cloudy. but you’re his sunshine and he doesn’t quite know how to handle that.

warnings: insecure!joel, undefined age gap (reader is in 20s, joel is canon age), judgy ass jackson people

word count: 2.5k

divider credit: @saradika

requested: yes by the lovely and inspiring @pedgeitopascal 🫶🏻 find it here

a/n: second fic, lets gooooo. requests are open, so drop one if you would like (i'm still new at this so i may not do all of them, just trying to get back into writing first)

The people of Jackson were stumped by the three newcomers.

Well, more specifically, they were stumped by you.

They didn’t understand how someone like you came along with the man and the girl.

There was Ellie. Even though she is only fourteen, the girl was wise beyond her years. A young girl that possessed the vocabulary of a sailor. Rough around the edges. Strong willed, incredibly witty, and as sarcastic as one could possibly be.

There was Joel. A man hardened by the cards that life seemed to have dealt him, emotionally stunted, and just plain grumpy. Borderline rude to the members of the community, apart from his brother and sister in law. Over cautious of each and every person in the community.

And then there was you.

A woman who embodies the word sunshine. An optimist. The type to always lend a hand whenever needed. Smiles constantly adoring your face. You can find good in any situation, even during the apocalypse.

So it came as a surprise when the community found out that you were dating the grumpy old man.

If someone had asked when you and Joel had gotten together, you wouldn’t know what to tell them. You don’t know how or when it happened, it just was. It had always been.

The two of you met a few years prior. Tess insisted that they needed another partner, a younger woman to attract a different type of customer. At first, Joel didn’t care. If that’s what the girl would do, then that was that. But when Tess brought you home, it shifted for him. He couldn’t stand the thought of the men in the QZ doing business with someone as sweet as you. As pure as you.

So he looked out for you and in turn, you did the same. Quick hellos turned into small talk which turned into conversations. A pickup turned into a hangout which turned into you going to sleep in his bed every night. It just happened.

You were Joel’s and he was yours. It was simple.

Simple to you, at least. You loved him, it was obvious to anyone around you. You looked at him as if he was the center of the universe. You told him as much, as frequently as he would allow you to. It didn’t bother you too much that he never said it back. Regardless of the small and doubting voices in your head, you knew he felt the same.

Joel, even after years with you by your side, still didn’t quite understand how someone like you could be with someone like him. How someone like him could deserve to be with someone like you. After everything he had done before you, everything he had done to protect you.

But you were. And it isn’t that Joel is complaining, because he is not, he just doesn’t know what to do about it. How to act around you in public with the prying (and equally as confused as him) eyes.

Everywhere the two of you went, the eyes followed. The thoughts of the community consumed Joel’s mind. He knew what they thought of him, hell, what they thought about Ellie. And while he couldn’t stand how they viewed his surrogate daughter, he understood why they viewed him.

He wasn’t kind like you. He didn’t acclimate like how you did. He didn’t offer his skills to better the community. He avoided going to the movie nights unlike you, who embraced the chance to mingle with the community.

Joel didn’t miss the way the people would shy away from you whenever he would approach. How their conversation would abruptly end with a forced goodbye, as if Joel was an intruder to his own relationship.

As the time went by, Joel began to doubt himself. How could someone like you want to be with him? With a past like his? He wasn’t worthy of your attention. Of your time. Of your love.

Hell, Joel couldn’t even bring himself to tell you that he loved you. Even after all the years you’ve spent together. He did, he loved you more than he ever thought was possible after Sarah died. He just didn’t know how to tell you.

Joel wasn’t a man of words, he was a man of action. He showed you that he loved you. Whether it was fixing you your favorite tea in the morning or building bookshelves for the many books you’ve found on patrol, he showed his love through acts of service.

But he was beginning to doubt that it was enough for you.

It started at the Tipsy Bison. Joel had promised to help Tommy repair one of the decks to a house. You weren’t much help with a task like this, to your dismay, so you had wandered off to town with the promise of meeting the brothers when they had finished for the night.

Ellie opted to stay back at the house, feigning sickness. You could see right through her act but knew how the girl had been struggling since arriving in Jackson. How she had been struggling before the three of you even got here. So, in spite of Joel’s obvious displeasure, you granted her the solace that she was silently requesting.

You were sitting at the bar with a group of women, discussing the upcoming holiday and how the town would celebrate it, when the Miller brothers made their appearance in the establishment.

And while your smile grew at the sight of your man, the women around you seemed to tense. As Joel approached you, the conversation faded into quiet murmurs.

“Hi babe,” you greeted as he stopped in front of your stool. You watched as his cheeks flushed at the pet name, the smile you wore only growing. “You and Tommy finish the deck?”

“Not yet,” Joel responded, hand rubbing at the back of his neck. He nodded to the women surrounding you, only receiving a tight lipped smile back in response. “Got too dark and Maria needed him home.”

“The girls and I were just talking about how we could convince Tommy to dress up as Santa for the kids this year. Wouldn’t that be sweet?” You were excited about the idea, evident by the happiness lighting up your face.

“The sweetest,” Joel replied, shifting foot to foot under the watchful eyes of the women around you.

As you filled Joel in on the other plans for the upcoming celebration, the three other women that you had been planning with watched the interaction. It was almost comical to Joel – he was labeled as the rude one, yet these women were looking back and forth between the two of you with obvious confusion. Suspicion towards Joel. And, if Joel was reading it right, one of them was wearing a shade of disgust.

Joel knew he wasn’t the best type of person in the world but to be looked at with disgust seemed a bit too far for him.

“Joel?” Your voice startled him from his thoughts. You had slipped your coat on before beginning to rise from the barstool you had been perched upon. “You ready to get back home? I want to make sure Ellie is okay.”

With a smile and a wave, you bid the ladies a goodbye before turning to your boyfriend. You watched as he forced a nod at them before he began to make his way towards the exit. Falling into step with him, you slip your hand into his coat pocket, lacing your fingers along his with a squeeze. Eyes on his face as you watch him let out a shuddering breath, shoulders tensing even more than they usually were.

You may be an optimist that sees the best in not only every person that you encounter but in the world as well, even if it is a fucked up mess thanks to the cordyceps. You may be a cheerful person with a smile on your face more often than not, even in the face of danger. But you weren’t stupid.

And you certainly weren’t blind.

You saw how the people in Jackson treated Joel. How they looked down upon him. He may not be totally involved in the community, but he helped where he could and when he could. The people of this town operated on favors, but it was hard to fulfill one for someone when you were on patrol as much as Joel was.

Everyone took rotations, yourself included. But Joel took it a step further. Maybe it was his incessant need to protect Ellie and yourself, maybe it was his nature. Or maybe it was just what he thought he could best provide to the community for. Joel was outside the wall more than he was inside of it, patrolling new and old areas alike to ensure the community’s safety. Going on what seemed like endless supply runs to restock any medication, materials, and other things that anyone could potentially even need.

Not only did you see everything Joel did for the community, even if they couldn’t share that view, but you saw how Joel treated Ellie. How he treated you.

How he wasn’t good with words or how he didn’t know how to show affection. But you knew, regardless of if he put it into words, how much he loved his two girls.

You knew he loved the two of you through the surprises he would bring back from patrol for the two of you. Whether it was a book you had mentioned liking in your childhood or hunting down every last remaining can of Chef Boyardee for Ellie, he showed you. Whether it was the old guitar he had traded to get for Ellie on her birthday or the singular flower he would pick for you ‘just because’, he showed you.

But regardless of the bountiful thanks you both had given him, you can see the doubt pooling in his eyes. The disappointment eating away at him at the thought of not being able to give the two of you more. The constant guilt of his past actions. You knew what he thought of himself and you knew that he didn’t think he could ever deserve you.

You just didn’t share that opinion.

So when you hear the women you were previously conversing with snickering about your boyfriend as you walk towards the exit, something snapped within you.

Slipping your hand from his, you practically march your way back to the women, leaving a perplexed Joel behind, watching from the door of the restaurant. Watching as your hand smacks onto the bar top in front of them, leaning over to sneer at each of them. You didn’t get like this often, preferring kindness, but when you did, Joel couldn’t help but gawk at you.

“You may think you know him,” your voice is as cold as your glare. “But you couldn’t even begin to understand the type of person that Joel is. Might I remind you that none of you have been on the other side of that wall, so you truly have no idea what he does every damn day to make sure that you can sit here on your asses and gossip like small town bitches.”

The women before you go silent, jaws dropping at your words. They hadn’t expected someone like you to snap. But the people of Jackson, especially those that were not on patrol rotation, had no idea what it was like on the outside. You had to do what you had to do, regardless of your sunny disposition. Just because you were usually radiating positivity didn’t mean you wouldn’t bite back when necessary.

You take their lack of a response as an answer. “Next time you want to judge someone based on their first impression, maybe try to understand what they’ve been through to get to this point first. If you went through even a fraction of the shit that the three of us went through to get here, you’d actually think before you spoke.”

“That’s not what we meant–”

“Then what did you mean by the constant glares? The whispering when you think no one can hear you? Running away the second you see him?” You raise your eyebrows at them, challenging them to respond. “Please tell me what you meant, I’m sure you had a great reason.”

Their mouths opened and closed, searching for the words but found none. Still in shock over your outburst.

“That’s what I thought. Let’s keep this from happening again, yeah?” With that, you turn and head towards the door. As you pass Joel, you grab his hand and tug him outside. Once outside, you take a deep breath of fresh air, halting in your steps in effort to calm down your racing thoughts.

“W-What was that?” He asks, equally as stunned as the women that got told off by you.

You shrug. “I don’t like the way they talk about you. Or about Ellie.”

Joel shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest as he stands in front of you. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” you answer simply. “I know how it affects you. How you think about yourself as is. They only make it worse and that’s not okay with me.”

“You can’t blame them,” Joel sighs, rubbing his gloved hand down his face. “They aren’t wrong.”

“They are wrong, baby,” you tug his hands from his face, replacing them with your own by cupping his cheeks. “You have no idea how far from the truth they are, how far you are.”

You thumb his cheeks, a small smile playing on your lips as you think about him. “I know you don’t view yourself in the brightest light, Joel, but you are everything to me. You and Ellie are the best things in my life, I wouldn’t trade the two of you for anything in the world. I would do anything, say anything to make sure that you know how much you mean to me.”

His eyes are glassy as his hands slowly make their way to your wrists, swallowing hard at your words. You know he struggles to hear it, to hear any sort of praise that would go against his thoughts.

“You’re a man of action, not a man of words,” you whisper. “Let me show you how much I love you.”

Leaning up on your tiptoes, you press your lips to his. Joel stiffens, not used to the public display of attention. You hold firm, sliding your hands off his cheeks to wrap around his neck in an effort to pull him closer to you. After a moment, you feel him relax, hands shifting to your hips as he molds his lips against yours.

The two of you stay entangled in each other for a few more moments, lips dancing with one other. With one last peck, Joel pulls back, eyes shining as he takes your swollen lips and flushed skin. He looks at you in wonder, thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

“I love you too,” Joel whispers. “My sunshine.”

And for the first time in a long time, the smile on your face is mirrored on his.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #insecure joel #still getting used to it #joel the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #m writes

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hheaven-sentt · 10 months

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devotion

summary: because love doesn't quite capture it | leon kennedy x partner!reader

word count: 2.4k

warnings: depictions of injuries, angst if you squint, mentions of alcohol consumption, yearning, mutual pining, partners to friends to lovers

notes: BACK FROM THE DEAD W A VENGEANCE. my semester has finished and my second one doesn't start until january so i will be posting for once. college is kicking my ass like all the time so it puts everything else on pause for me anyway ily all | ao3

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The dress feels itchy against your skin. You don’t want to go to this event, so you can’t imagine how Leon feels. He doesn’t even like when you thank him for doing the dishes, so you wonder how he might behave up on a stage to receive a medal. You stretch behind you, reaching for the zipper. Wordlessly, Leon turns to you and zips it up himself. Of course he does; that’s just Leon.

“This is weird,” he says. It’s barely a whisper, breath dusting over your shoulder as he says it. You nod with a sigh.

“I wouldn’t say weird,” you return. You watch his eyes in the mirror. They hover somewhere on your forehead. “Not normal, but not weird,” “I think it’s weird,” he says, and steps away. You nod again, because what else can you say?

Working with Leon has its ups and downs. He’s too quiet some days, and you have to fill in the gaps yourself. Or he’s too loud–sometimes without even saying anything–and you have to figure out how to deal with it. Or he’s just Leon; he laughs and jokes, he helps cook dinner, he doesn’t talk about work. You like those days the best. Had you seen these versions of Leon when you were assigned to him almost ten years ago, you would’ve laughed. Ten years ago, you couldn’t imagine being this close to someone, to care as much as you do about someone you’re paid to be around.

You suppose there’s layers to it, layers you haven’t fully unraveled yet. You know only a few things for certain: Leon is your partner, he is also your unofficial roommate, and you care about him more than you care about others.

“Are you ready?” he asks. He’s standing in the doorway of the bedroom, the light from the hallway making him look like an angel descending to relay a message from God. You swallow and nod.

“Just need my shoes,” you say, moving to the bed and sliding your shoes across the floor to be in front of you. Leon bends down without a word to help you fasten them.

When he looks up at you, he looks less like your partner and more like someone you’re meant to love. An ache resonates within you, a need to reach out a brush your fingers through his darkened hair. He shifts his gaze to your upper arm. Gingerly, he runs the tips of his fingers over a scar that spans from your elbow to your clavicle. It’s ugly and red, courtesy of the nasty burn you’d sustained there a few years ago. The ridged skin is unfeeling as Leon skirts his hand across it, tracing it from your elbow to your shoulder.

“I remember when you got this,” he says absently. His fingers dance across your skin, and you wish the scar didn’t run so deep so you could feel his ministrations. “Thought I’d lost you,”

He says nothing more, just stands up and offers his hand to you to help you off the bed. You take it, and he hauls you up with ease. He twists out of the room like a ghost. You follow him, like you always do.

The scar is one of a few you’ve come to own. You remember the day you got it, too. For whatever reason, you replay the moment in your head over and over in the taxi on the way to the gala. It makes your skin burn.

It was supposed to be a normal day, a normal mission. Go in, extract, get out. Three simple steps that you had done a hundred thousand times before. Leon stood beside you, always offering to enter a room first. You’ll admit, years removed from the situation, you should’ve been more careful, should’ve listened to what he was saying. But you were so angry at him. You felt weak, unnecessary. You remember shoving past him and through a door you hadn’t known was connected to a trigger. Almost as soon as your boot touched the concrete on the other side of the threshold, your hearing went out. It felt like you were standing miles away from a nuclear blast, and you had felt the effects of the delayed shockwave. You were knocked to the ground in an instant, but you didn’t feel pain–not yet at least. When you woke up in the hospital a day later, Leon was asleep in the chair beside you.

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” he’d said. You vowed not to.

“Do you think they’ll at least have an open bar?” he says now, drawing you back into the world. You turn away from the window of the cab to look at him. He’s staring at his hands, forcing a small smile.

“They better,” you say, reaching over and settling a hand on his shoulder. He looks at you. “It’s the only reason I’m going,”

This turns his smile genuine, and he even offers an eyeroll. You squeeze his shoulder, bracelets jingling with the motion. His eyes are on you, and you feel as hot as fresh sin. You hate this; hate that he makes you feel this way, hate that he is so beautiful, hate that you can’t seem to shake this deep seated love you harbor for him. You miss him when he looks away and you remove your hand.

The gala is overwhelming. Leon stays near you, hand hovering near your own. You wish he would reach out and take it. You debate the consequences of doing it yourself.

Breath hot on the shell of your ear, Leon whispers, “You think our taxes went into this?”

You suppress a laugh, tightening your lips into a thin line to fight a smile. “I wouldn’t be surprised, but I’ll pretend like this was all donated,”

“You can consider taxes a donation if you really think about it,” he says, gliding across the floor with you toward an empty table. You snort.

“I think that depends on what your definition of donation is,” you say. He pulls out your chair for you before pushing it in, then takes his own seat beside you. His legs are angled toward you like he only plans on talking to you.

“I think you underestimate my ability to bend definitions to suit my needs,” he says. You laugh again.

You like this version of Leon, and you know that it won’t last very long so you should hold onto it while it’s here. An old jazz song rings out from the speakers across the hall, and the lights catch his eyes just right. They’re really blue, as true blue as blue gets. They’re your favorite shade of blue. If you could paint your living room that color, you would. It’s a soft blue, like the crest of a wave blue, like the sky just after dawn blue, like two perfect oceans set into his skull. There’s a hairline scar that runs between the crows feet of his left eye, one you ache to reach out and trace.

That’s the best way to describe how you feel when you look at Leon: aching. It’s desperation, an aching need to touch and hold. It’s not exactly love, but you don’t have another word for it. Maybe devotion? Looking at him feels like the first time a child sees a kitten. You’re like me, soft and lovable, and we should stay together.

“Have you listened to anything I’ve said in the last few minutes?” Leon asks, putting a hand on your knee that brings you back to the gala. You suck in a breath and shake your head. He smiles wide. “Quit staring at me, makes me feel like I’ve got something on my face,”

“You’re pretty,” you say before you can stop yourself. Maybe pretty is the wrong word, but you don’t know what the right one would be. He’s handsome, sure, but handsome doesn’t encapsulate the way his lashes flutter against his cheekbones or the way he blushes when you smile at him. “Sorry,”

He’s grinning now, giving your knee a squeeze. “You flatter me,”

An hour later, and he’s being called up on stage by your director, who intends to decorate him. You’re beaming with pride, even though you know Leon is dreading this moment. He stumbles across the stage. Cameras are flashing, and you can almost see Leon cringe between photos. He’s off the stage a few minutes later, heading straight for you. You grin more, knowing that he’s choosing to seek solace in you, in your company. He wraps you in a stiff hug that loosens as it endures. You laugh into his shoulder.

“Don’t let me do anything heroic ever again,” he mumbles, burying his face into your neck. You bark a laugh.

“Yeah, okay,” you agree. “I’ll make sure to step in next time,”

In an act that surprises you, Leon tugs you toward the dance floor. You must look wildly confused because he explains, “Just this once. Just one dance,”

You agree, not that you could deny even if you wanted to. He’s looking at you like you’re someone he’s meant to love, like you’re more than just his partner. His hand slots against the curve of your waist like it was made specifically to be there. He’s warm and smiling, and you think maybe he’s had a bit too much champagne. But you like him like this. Who knows when you’ll see him like this again? You stare at him, intent to memorize his features and the way the light catches on the bridge of his nose.

“You’re staring again,” he whispers. You smile sheepishly.

“Never seen you like this,” you reply. He bows his head to chuckle. “Not sure I’ll ever get the chance to again,”

“I’m sure you will,” he says. “You’re the one who brings it out of me,”

You roll your eyes. “I’m more convinced it’s all the free champagne we’ve been drinking,”

“You can believe whatever you want, sweetness,” he says, spinning you. “I’m telling you the truth,”

You’re both giggly and joking the whole way home. Leon has you wheezing about something you can’t remember as you step into the apartment. Tears rest at the corners of your eyes. You shove him playfully. He follows you from room to room like a puppy, making you giggle and flash a smile as you clean up for the night.

You crash onto the bed, warm and light from the night, and reach to take off your shoes. Leon stands in the doorway, watching you. The light from the hallway gives him a halo. Your feet ache as you release them from their prisons, and you glance up to see Leon smiling at you. You return it with the cock of one of your brows.

“You’re pretty,” he says by way of explanation. You feel heat snake up your body. His hands are stuffed into his pockets, hair slightly messy from where he’s run his hands through it, and the first few buttons of his shirt are undone. If you weren’t as shy as you are, you’d probably move to touch him.

Instead, you huff a laugh and toss your shoes to the floor. “You flatter me,”

When you stand and begin to move around him, he grabs your elbow. “I mean it,”

Perhaps, in another life, you would see this as a win. The man you’ve spent most of your life following around and yearning for seemingly returns your affections, and you are about to deny him. Admitting it out loud makes it real, makes it mean something. What happens the next time something goes wrong out there? The next time he does something heroic? Everything will be much too real, and much harder to bury. You blink at him, looking at him for what feels like the very first and last time. He’s still Leon; scruffy stubble, blue eyes, and warmth. He’s still Leon, teetering on being your Leon, and you’re not going to let that happen. You, again, are going to deny yourself from what you want.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. You take in a shaky breath. He’s still holding you, but his touch is a ghost on your flesh.

“Leon, I don’t know-”

“You know that one Frank Sinatra song?” he interrupts. You gape at him.

“Why did you ask if you won’t let me answer?” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. He returns his hands to his pockets.

“Predicted where it was going, figured I’d circumvent it,” he admits, the corner of his lips turning upward slightly. “The song he sings with his wife?”

You shrug. “Maybe? What’s your point?”

“I love you,” he says. Your body goes cold. “That could be the stupidest thing I’ve ever said, but I feel like you should know that before you make whatever decision you’re about to make,”

Your face breaks out into a grin, and you laugh in spite of yourself. “I’m sure you’ve said stupider,”

Whatever worry was on Leon’s face dissolves, and a real, full smile splits across his lips. He takes your face in his hands. He holds you delicately, like you’d break under the slightest pressure. To be fair, you feel like glass at the moment–if glass could have legs made of rubber.

“This makes it real,” you say. He swallows. “No going back, no forgetting, no pretending. When something happens, it will be real,”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he whispers. “It’s worked out for us so far,”

You’re not sure who closes the space first, but it matters little after it’s happened. His lips are gentle and giving against your own. Your hands splay against his sides, using his suit jacket to pull him closer. His hands wind into your hair. There’s a desperation behind his movements, one you’re all too familiar with. After what feels like hours, he breaks from you, leaning his forehead against yours. His breathing is labored, you can feel it in his strong chest beneath your hands.

“This is real,” he says.

“We take risks for a living,” you say. He opens his eyes to peek at you through his lashes. “What’s one more right?”

He grins and kisses you again.

#leon kennedy x reader #my fics #m writes #resident evil #x reader #partner!reader #resident evil fanfic #leon kennedy #id leon kennedy

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arithmonym · 2 months

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Rated T | 3k words

“I’m going to die alone,” Gideon lamented. “God hates lesbians. Hates me, specifically.”

Harrow didn’t look up from her homework, but she stopped chewing on her pen for long enough to reply. “God wouldn’t take time out of His day to torment you, specifically,” she told her flatmate.

or: t4t griddlehark, mary oliver, and a conversation on the floor of harrow's bedroom.

#i’ve been stuck on my harrow nova AU for agesss but i wrote this in two days because i was craving t4t griddlehark fluff #they compel me greatly :’)#the locked tomb #tlt #tlt fic #gideon nav #harrowhark nonagesimus #griddlehark #m writes

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snugglyducklingbrewhouse · 5 months

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we play with fire because we like the way it burns

a mob boss!Nico and nurse!fem!reader au

Masterlist

Moodboard

Chronological order, not in order of posted date

Warnings are on each individual installment

Request guidelines - instructions

Know before you read - headcanons

Movie night, ruined - 1.2k words

Nico’s got a crush - 0.36k words

You’ve got some explaining to do - 1k words

I know this bar - 2.35k words

Luke, Lilly, and the Tree - 0.5k words

Coming soon (also to keep me accountable):

Me without us (working title - may change)

No sleep (working title - may change)

Bad Santa (title will change - this is just named after the inspo - not Christmas related whatsoever)

Taken (working title - may change)

Dancing with the devil

Need someone

#m writes #snugglyducklingbrewhouse nav #mob boss Nico au #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier au #nico hischier imagine

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dadjokesbutgay · 13 days

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Ava hcs p2 (The Coffee Incident)

Another mercs one!!!

ok so. In the Rocket Corp building, there is absolutely no coffee. In fact, there are no sources of caffeine within 200 meters of the Rocket Corp building. In the early weeks after The Incident, after coffee was removed from the building, a few new worker sticks might still bring in a cup. They weren't around long enough to have been there on... that day. If any brown liquid was detected, whoever saw it would delete it IMMEDIATELY, whether or not they were authorized to use the appropriate tools to do so. Whoever brought the coffee would either be warned by other, older employees not to do it again or caught by one of the higher cups and lose their job. Victim would personally punish anyone who dared let caffeine enter the company (the stronger the coffee, the more likely the poor stick was to be fired). However, this proved too inefficient and all cafes in the surrounding towns were quietly removed for small health violations not even the most detail-oriented lawyer would remember offhand until they were brought up in court. Caffeine was banned from all Rocket Corp institutions, but that wasn't what stopped the second coming of the incident. Agent, by some miracle, was what cancelled that apocalypse. Now, every stick employed by Rocket Corp has signed a contract at some point swearing off the consumption, handling, and/or possession of any form of caffeine. Victim will use any means necessary to stop another supplier from sneaking coffee into Rocket Corp and causing another Incident, as will the mercenaries.

Well, most of the mercenaries.

Unfortunately for the rest of Rocket Corp (and everyone, really), Ballista will never forgive Agent for prying that espresso from his hands, even if it was to prevent another Incident, even if the sheer amount of gratitude Vic showed Shady McSimps afterwards got his otp 5,000 steps closer to becoming canon, even if drinking that coffee would have made the world end (which it actually might have; Ballista and espresso is never a good combination).

He WILL obtain coffee again.

No matter how long it takes.

No matter the cost.

He WILL complete his goal.

And if that causes another Coffee Incident, so be it.

#avm #animation vs animator #ava mercenaries #ava victim #ava ballista #ava agent #ava agent smith #ava vicagent #ava rocket corp #M writes

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sauron-kraut · 2 months

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Summary: Mairon enjoys the new position he finds himself in with Melkor. Some reflection ensues. I'll stop with the puns now.

After writing his not-so-ideal mirror experience in Sugar I wanted to give Mairon another, more enjoyable one. Thus, catch me writing some Angbang.

Pairing: Melkor x Mairon

Words: 480

Warnings: explicit content, just a bit rough but everyone's enjoying themselves, pwp

As always: If you like this little piece, comments on AO3 are appreciated! 🖤

Not beta read!

Find the smut under the cut.

On Power

Mairon has never felt more powerful.

Might ripples through his entire being, enters him with each thrust into his body, which is alight, ready, and thrumming with thrill.

“Your legs.” Melkor’s voice reaches Mairon from behind him, like growling grey thunder in a summery vale, and Mairon spreads them wider. He lifts his chin to look at himself in the vast wrought iron mirror sitting above the bed, here in the Vala’s sleeping quarters, where the very walls pulse with his presence. No need for composure where power upholds. Mairon beholds his luscious red curls in disarray, dancing about his face, his cheeks flushed pink. He looks beautiful. On hands and knees, Mairon takes Melkor’s harsh thrusting, takes, takes, takes, with open thighs and open-mouthed as the mounting pleasure in his lower body wrenches ragged moans from his throat. Mairon whimpers, Mairon gasps.

Melkor hadn’t bothered to undress him properly, and neither had Mairon himself. He arches his back as Melkor drags the hem of his red and golden robe further up, his large hands wandering over Mairon’s backside, his thighs, his hips, more skin, more skin. A single low, rolling moan from Melkor. He must be close. Ravenous hunger rips through Mairon, seems to eat at his very bones. He feels stray warm droplets of his own arousal on his skin where his swollen flesh has brushed against his inner thigh. Mairon brings his hand to his lips, half covering his mouth, half biting. In the mirror, he watches as Melkor leans over him, until his bare chest is flush against Mairon’s back, wrapping his arm around his waist. “No, I want to hear you.” With his free hand, he removes Mairon’s fingers from his mouth, pushes his hand back onto the covers. Melkor slows the motions of his hips, makes them shallow, almost gentle. When he kisses Mairon’s earlobe, the Vala’s breathing trembles. Melkor’s raven hair curtains them both as he takes Mairon in hand, index finger stroking him with featherlight touches, smearing some of the liquid from the tip of Mairon’s length over his skin before he resumes taking him with what are now snapping, deep thrusts. Melkor’s hand moves faster.

Mairon whimpers, Mairon pants. A wide grin forms on his lips. He watches as he reaches for the Vala’s face with one hand. Melkor kisses and licks his palm with abandon. Then, Mairon’s world narrows to the slickness between his legs, Melkor inside him, burning nerves, oil, heat, need, and Mairon lets go, tenses under Melkor’s hands, moaning obscenely, spilling himself over the Vala’s fingers and the bedding.

Melkor pushes Mairon down by the neck. His face is pressed into the pillow, and Melkor’s thrusts shove his cheek across wet spots of his own release. Mairon twists his neck to look up at himself in the mirror.

Mairon smiles, for he has never felt more powerful.

#mairon #sauron #melkor #angbang #melkor x mairon #mairon x melkor #my writing #m writes #silmarillion #the silmarillion #tolkien fanfiction #silmarillion fanfiction #silm fanfic #tolkien fanfic

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imabillyami · 2 months

Text

OR: 5 times Jey acts like a jealous prick and 1 time Sami finally gets it

-> @who-do-you-want-to-be requested: Samijey with jealous!Jey, feelings realization, happy ending

-> M/M, Teen & Up Audiences, 8.7k words, additional tags: enemies to lovers, mutual pining, first kiss, angst with a happy ending

-> additional characters: Damian Priest, Jimmy Uso, Solo Sikoa, Rhea Ripley, Dominik Mysterio, Finn Bálor, Paul Heyman, Roman Reigns (mentioned)

-> also available on AO3

-> my requests are open, additional info here

-> Hope you enjoy! 💖

(1) The first time it happens Sami is caught off guard.

He’s chatting with Damian backstage. Damian is one of the few people who’s still respectful towards The Bloodline - genuine or out of self-preservation he doesn’t know - but it’s nice to have someone to talk to from time to time. Someone who’s not his newly acquired brothers or his Tribal Chief, or a part of their family bubble at all.

They’re standing next to the door leading into catering, Damian with one shoulder casually leaned against the wall, Sami’s hands fiddling with a bottle of water that he’d just grabbed from inside.

He knows there’s always water in their locker room, but Roman kicked them out earlier, tired of his and Jey’s constant fighting. And honestly, he can’t blame him. He would’ve done the same probably, if he was the one suffering through third-wheeling their constant bickering.

While he was still mulling over how to finally get on Jey’s good side, Damian had caught him and roped him into a conversation.

They don’t really have all that much in common, so their conversations usually consist of Damian chewing his ear off about one topic or another, usually something about where he and the rest of Judgement Day are going to party later, or what they’re going to do on their days off. And they always end the same - with him inviting Sami along and Sami politely declining.

Damian never seems too upset about it, usually just ends up giving him a little grin when they reach that part of their familiar routine, almost like it’s a fun little game to him.

It’s nice to have someone’s undivided attention like that, especially someone who values family just as much as he does and understands all the complex problems that come attached to it. They have that in common, at least.

Damian’s good at distracting him from the latest Jey-drama and that’s something he can appreciate. Above all else though, their chats pass the time until he can leave.

It’s harmless. It’s frequent. It’s familiar.

That’s why he’s so surprised when this time around, Jey suddenly materializes next to him, eyes several shades darker than usual and face drawn into a threatening scowl “We got a problem here?” Even his voice is a lot sharper when he spits the words venomously.

Sami feels his eyes widen in response to Jey’s over-the-top hostility. He’s used to being treated like an enemy, an outsider, an intruder the Uso can’t wait to get rid of. Only this time around Jey’s hatred isn’t directed at him at all. No. And if Sami didn’t know any better, he’d say it feels like Jey’s being protective over him with the way he keeps shooting icy glares in Damian’s direction.

But that’s impossible. Jey hates his guts. Jey has no good reason to act like he does. So more than anything else, Sami is weirded out and a good bit mortified by this weird one-sided pissing contest.

Damian though? He doesn’t look very impressed.

“No, I’d say we’re fine here, uce.” he says with the most casual grin, eyes sparkling with glee as though he’s thoroughly entertained by the Uso’s tough guy act.

Sami’s not sure how much of an act it is though.

Jey looks tense, like he’s just about ready to pounce and lay a few solid punches on the taller man.

And that’s the exact kind of chaos they absolutely don’t need.

Putting a hand on Jey’s chest, he utters “It’s fine, uce. We’re good.”

Sami’s words seem to finally snap him out of whatever the hell is going on and he shrugs off the palm on his chest quickly and quietly, directing his scowl, albeit a slightly softer one (or so Sami imagines), back at his usual target.

“Whatever. Chief’s lookin’ for you.”

Sami gulps. That doesn’t bode well. “Okay. Alright. Let’s go.”

He offers what he hopes to be an apologetic look in Damian’s general direction and moves to get them out of there.

Anything to get away from this weird tension.

But it was never gonna be that easy, was it?

They’re halfway down the hallway when Damian’s voice booms loudly from behind them. Dammit. “Hey Sami! You wanna hang out with us after you’re done?”

His arm instinctively shoots out and locks around Jey’s waist, holding on tightly. Shooting a quick look at the man in his grasp, he sends up a prayer and a quiet thank you for his phenomenal instincts.

Cause judging by the look on the Uso’s face? His hold might very well be the only thing standing between Damian Priest and certain death right now.

“Uhm, no thanks.” he utters politely and then continues to haul a very pissed off Jey the hell out of there.

He’s seriously out of his depth here.

Cause what the hell was that?

What ends up catching him even more off guard than this entire exchange though?

Finding out that Roman wasn’t looking for him at all.

(2) The second time it happens Sami is confused.

The Bloodline is on Raw again a couple of weeks later when Damian catches him on his way out of Gorilla after a promo segment. The guy definitely has a death wish, approaching him the second Roman and Paul are out of sight, but not waiting for the Usos or Solo to follow.

At first he honestly thinks nothing of it, the last catastrophic encounter involving a certain Uso almost forgotten.

At least that’s what he keeps telling himself.

(In truth, he hasn’t forgotten about it one bit, he just likes to pretend he has. Cause there’s no reasonable explanation as to why the moment has been playing on the forefront of his mind for weeks, costing him more than one night’s worth of sleep.)

So yes, he absolutely has forgotten about it and carefully tries not to think about how any further interactions with Damian could make things even worse.

Jey is not his keeper, after all. If anything, he’s the one responsible for keeping Jey’s outbursts in check these days. So technically that makes him Jey’s keeper. Right?

His face scrunches up in distaste at the mere thought. The whole thing must feel so humiliating to Jey. And while Sami would do anything to keep the peace and his place in The Bloodline, he has to admit that he doesn’t think this was Roman’s brightest idea. Not that he’d ever dare to say that out loud.

Jey’s been acting even more hostile and snappy lately though, and whatever little common ground they previously shared is completely gone now.

He’s been on the receiving end of sharp words and blazing eyes and hurtful dismissals for weeks and he has yet to figure out a way to navigate this new assignment. Not that he thinks of Jey as such. No, Jey is a person. A flawed one, but a person, still. And he deserves some respect. Even if the others don’t seem to think so.

When Damian steps up to them, Sami notices Solo eyeing the taller man, his face somewhere between unreadable and unbothered as always.

But looks can be deceiving, especially when it comes to their youngest. Sami sees the tension in his muscles, the flex of his hands. He knows that Solo is ready to attack at any given moment, if provoked. He shudders at the thought.

His eyes wander over to Jimmy, who isn’t looking back at him either. But instead of glaring at the intruder like his younger brother, his eyes are firmly fixed on his twin.

Sami spots the clear apprehension in his eyes and he can’t blame him. Cause Jey? Well, surprising absolutely no one, Jey’s face hides absolutely nothing. His signature scowl is etched deeply into his face, his eyes are dark and furious where they shoot sharp daggers Damian’s way. If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under with zero chance of return.

Sami stays perfectly still and silent, too scared to upset the careful balance of the moment.

Damian however, doesn’t seem to share his concern.

“Hey Sami! How’s it going?”, he inquires, completely ignoring the rest of their group. Sami gulps and feels his voice get stuck inside his throat.

“The fuck do you want, huh?” Jey asks darkly, dangerously. Solo takes a threatening half-step forward, making himself taller than he is.

Their guest holds up his hand defensively. “Hey, whoa, easy there. I’m just trying to catch up with my friend.” Four sets of eyes snap over in unison to land on him and Sami blanches.

This is great. Just great.

Jimmy, ever the life-saver, decides to take pity on him and dissolve the impossible tension. “Well, ain’t nothing wrong with that, aight? C'mon boys, let’s go get some food!” He waggles his eyebrows and clasps his baby brother’s shoulder, slightly pushing at him until he turns away from them and starts walking in the general direction of their locker room, Jimmy following closely behind. “Hey Jey, you comin?” He throws over his shoulder, expecting his twin to follow their lead.

Jey doesn’t budge.

He just stands there, arms crossed over his chest and huffs “Nah, I’m good, uce.”

“C’mon, uce, just leave them be!” Instead of answering, Jey just stands a little taller, puffing out his chest, not moving an inch otherwise, never once taking his eyes off his target.

Jimmy gives an exasperated sigh and an eye-roll “Fine, suit yourself.”, before he turns and disappears around the corner. They both know there’s no arguing with Jey when he gets like this.

Sami eyes him warily. He honestly doesn’t know what to think or feel here. He’s mostly just confused by Jey’s insistence to stay behind and be part of their conversation, when usually, he can’t get away from Sami fast enough. But fine. If Jey is so dead-set on staying, he knows there’s nothing much he can do. Not without another nasty fight.

He sighs. Well, at least he’ll have a witness in case anyone ends up asking questions. Though he’s not entirely sure that’ll do him any favors.

“So uh. Hey! What’s up?” He decides to simply focus on Damian for now and ignore Jey’s general existence the best he can. Which means not at all. Because despite his best efforts, he’s acutely aware of every minor shift of muscles, every eye roll, every little noise coming from the Uso.

But hey, he thinks to himself, fake it till you make it, right?

Damian however, isn’t the slightest bit deterred by Jey’s presence or his constant scoffing.

“Nothing much. Just wanted to check in on you. It’s been a while.”

“Oh uhm, that’s really nice of you. I appreciate it.” The words tumble out way less relaxed than they usually would, his tone doing nothing to hide how on edge he feels. He stiffens when a snort rings out from next to him. His eyes drift over to Jey, momentarily distracted, before he focuses back on their conversation.

God, what is Jey’s problem?

It continues that way for a couple of minutes, Damian and him exchanging their usual friendly small talk, sharing updates and anecdotes, while Jey huffs and puffs and does everything in his power to make this encounter as painfully awkward as possible.

Sami catches his mind drifting away from their chat a couple of times and focusing on the Uso instead, so much so that Damian keeps having to repeat himself.

He takes it in stride, way more patient with him than Sami deserves.

But at some point, even the most patient guy has to admit (temporary) defeat.

“Look, Sami, I see you’re… otherwise occupied. I don’t mean to keep you. But hey! We’re all going bowling tomorrow night! Wanna come?” For the first time his eyes leave Sami’s face and land on Jey instead, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he finds the whole thing absolutely hilarious.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sami sees Jey’s stare turn murderous.

And listen, he’s not gonna be the one responsible for any deaths here, okay?

“I already have plans, sorry.” They both know it’s a lie the second the words leave his mouth.

Damian’s dark eyes dart back and forth between him and Jey, contemplating. A beat passes. Then, a familiar easy smile on his lips, he replies “Of course. See you around, Sami.”

They both pretend to ignore the “You fuckin’ wish.” Jey mumbles out not so subtly under his breath.

The taller man waves as he walks away, disappearing in the opposite direction of their locker room.

Figures. Paul usually tends to pick an area as far away from the ‘peasants’ as humanly possible’, even more so if their Tribal Chief is around.

Sami closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, trying to shake the dreadful moment.

He’s also mentally preparing himself for yet another confrontation with the younger twin that he isn’t particularly looking forward to.

But when he finally opens his eyes and turns towards him, a million questions on his mind, Jey is nowhere to be found.

It’s as if from one second to the next he’s decided to vanish into thin air.

Sami just wishes he could understand why.

(3) The third time it happens Sami is angry.

The next time around, Sami doesn’t even get a chance to speak to Damian at all.

He’d planned on apologizing for their last dreadful encounter, but the second Jey (who’s dutifully stayed by his side all night as though they’re suddenly somehow permanently attached by the hip), spots Damian make his way over to them, determined and not the slightest bit intimidated by Jey’s presence, he roughly grabs Sami’s upper arm, fingers digging in to the point they feel almost painful, and drags him along, not stopping until they are all the way back in their locker room, Sami’s loud protests going unheard.

Thankfully for them, no one is around.

Roman isn’t here tonight, taking some well deserved time off to be with his children. The rest of the family are off to somewhere else in the arena. But even if they were here, he doesn’t think he could hold back his anger any longer.

He doesn’t know what's been going on with Jey lately, but either way, Sami’s had enough. And he’s glad they’re alone, because he doesn’t need any witnesses for his impending outburst.

The second the door falls shut behind them, he whips around to face Jey, pure venom in his veins, fire in his gut.

“What the hell is your problem, Jey? I know you’re unfamiliar with the concept, but Damian is a friend! Judgment Day are my friends!” He’s yelling at full volume, for whoever happens to walk by their locker room to hear and he knows it. He’s way past the point of caring though.

Jey doesn’t even flinch. Instead he meets Sami head-on, his eyes dark and unforgiving.

“Oh yeah, Sami? You wanna go see what the Tribal Chief thinks about that?” It’s a ridiculous threat, seeing as Roman isn’t even here tonight, yet it hits its intended target and makes Sami feel strangely insecure all the sudden.

Jey’s been getting really good at that lately. Hitting him where it hurts. Though he isn’t sure why it bothers him so much more than it used to back when he first started hanging around them.

Jey has always been mean to him, but for some reason his words cut a lot deeper these days.

His next words come out a lot shakier than intended. “I don’t think Roman has a problem with me scouting potential allies.” At least he thinks he doesn’t. He never asked. But Roman would be okay with it, right? Or would he think that Sami was looking to leave them behind? Or worse - betray them? Huh. He’s never truly considered the possibility before. Maybe it is a problem.

Jey’s looks unnerved for a split second, something akin to regret flickering in his gaze, but ultimately, his face settles back into the usual angry scowl. “If you love ‘em so much, why don’t you go join their family instead, huh? Will you do it? Means I finally be rid of your ass!”

Sami feels his heart clench painfully inside his chest.

How dare he? How dare he say that? As if Sami hasn’t taken bullet after bullet for them. As if he hasn’t protected Jey specifically from Roman’s wrath more times than he can count? How. fucking. dare. he?

He’s on Jey in a flash, grabbing him by the collar, yanking him across the room and shoving him up the wall, rage taking over and controlling his actions. He’s never felt this angry before. Ever.

Jey stares at him in wide-eyed shock, taken off-guard by his reaction. Sami keeps him trapped with his hold and his stare in equal parts. He couldn’t run if he tried. His next words come out in a low, dangerous tone.

“Oh you’d like that Jey, wouldn’t you? I bet you would. But, guess what? This might be news to you, but I’m part of your family. Whether you like it or not. Nobody has a problem with that. Nobody but you. So I’m not going anywhere. And you better get used to it.”

He isn’t sure if his mind is playing tricks on him, but for a short moment there’s this weird tension between them, that’s completely different from their usual hatred. They stare into each other’s eyes unblinkingly.

Then, unprompted, his eyes flick down to Jey’s lips, a weird and unfamiliar feeling raging inside of him. He thinks he can see Jey’s eyes do the same once or twice, but that’s impossible, right?

They stay perfectly still for a long moment, neither of them daring to move or breathe.

And then Jey violently shakes his head, pushing roughly against Sami’s chest, and the moment is gone.

Jey’s insistent pushing makes him loosen his grip, allowing the Uso to escape and put some much welcome distance between them.

“We’ll see ‘bout that, Sami. We’ll see ‘bout that.” Jey replies in a solemn voice that he’s never heard before. A shiver runs down his spine at the obvious threat.

But before he has any chance to come up with a rebuttal, Jey bolts out of the room, slamming the door behind himself.

Sami is left behind. Stunned. Appalled. And maybe something else too?

He tries his hardest not to follow that particular train of thought. Instead he decides to focus on the important questions.

How on earth does Jey hate him this much?

And why does it suddenly bother him so much?

He has a strong feeling that the answers to both questions, as well as to the ones he’s still unwilling to ask, will eventually come back to bite him in the ass.

(4) The fourth time it happens Sami is foolishly hopeful.

It takes him another couple of weeks to finally get there, but eventually Sami figures out what the hell is going on with him, even though he’s mostly in denial about it, still.

And who wouldn’t be, given his situation? Cause the guy he’s deeply sexually attracted to (He isn’t quite ready to admit to more than that. At least not yet. He needs some time, okay?), just so happens to be the guy who’s been treating him like a mortal enemy for months.

The realization, when it finally arrives, doesn’t hit him out of nowhere either.

Instead it slowly creeps up on him and takes its sweet time sinking in, until one day he just knows. And isn’t that quite the surprise? As if things between them aren’t complicated enough already.

Sometimes he can’t help but feel that his life is mocking him. Especially when the antiquated radio in his car decides to deliver the perfect soundtrack to match his current struggle.

He ends up with that stupid Alanis Morissette song stuck in his head for weeks and hums it under his breath every time Jey does something that inevitably makes his stomach swoop and his heart pound a little faster in his chest.

🎶 And isn′t it ironic? Don't you think? 🎶

To some degree Sami’s always been aware of his general attraction towards men. Carefully sculpted beards framing plush lips, soft tummies spilling over tight waistbands, straining lean muscles bulging from effort in loose tank tops, happy trails leading down to soft bulges and meaty thighs.

Yes, he’s always been somewhat aware that men hold some sort of appeal for him.

Jey though - Jey is in a different category altogether. A category of his own, if you will.

Not only does he tick all of Sami’s boxes physically, he also brings out a passion and a fire in him like no one else has ever done before.

Sure, most of that passion and fire stemmed from complete and utter irritation at first (and still do to this day), but it still makes him feel alive in a way that he usually only feels while he’s fighting an opponent in the ring.

Whatever he feels around Jey - it’s the same thing that made him choose wrestling all those years ago. It’s the same thing that made him stick with it too.

And isn’t that a scary thought? That he could… like… someone the same way he likes wrestling?

That he could need someone in his life that way?

Being around Jey is a constant adrenaline rush, in both the best and the worst ways. And while he isn’t sure that it’s the healthiest thing for him long term, he can’t deny that he wants it. Desperately. Anger and irritation and all.

The day his stupid feelings finally come to bite him just so happens to be the day of their WarGames match at Survivor Series.

He stumbles into Gorilla, a shirtless, sweaty mess, still riding the addictive high of finally earning Jey’s trust and acceptance and the hug they shared. He knows he made the family proud tonight in more ways than one and it makes him feel like he’s on top of the world.

While the rest of The Bloodline quickly make their exit, ready to shower and relax and wind down together after a successful night, Sami isn’t quite ready to let the heady feeling go yet.

So instead of following them right away, he lingers a little while longer, accepts hugs left and right, despite his messy state, and rejoices when even people who usually despise him congratulate him on his impressive performance tonight.

They’ll go back to hating him tomorrow, but tonight is his and so he doesn’t even care.

He’s still right there when Paul comes rushing back to tell him “Your Tribal Chief has bestowed upon you the honor of representing The Bloodline at the official Survivor Series Press Conference.” and ushers him out of Gorilla with an impatient “chop-chop!”

And getting to do the press conference? Roman putting that much trust into him? That’s just the cherry on top of his already perfect day. And during the press conference Paul just so happens to add a second one when he unabashedly sings Sami’s praises in front of an entire room of reporters.

Practically floating on air afterwards, he makes his way through the backstage hallways, finally ready to shower and wind down and get the hell out of here before anything or anyone attempts to ruin his perfect night. He stated during the press conference that nothing could ruin his night, but he isn’t willing to take that theory to the test.

He spots Damian and the rest of The Judgment Day in a side hallway, hanging out, chilling like the cool kids they undoubtedly are, licking and nursing their wounds. He knows their night hasn’t gone according to plan at all, with both Finn and Rhea losing their respective matches earlier in the night. He feels for them, he truly does, so when Rhea spots him and beckons him over, he goes willingly.

They all offer him excited pats on the back and boisterous congratulations and he takes it all in, welcoming it happily and willingly. Damn does it feel good to be the MVP for once. To have all the spotlights on him. To be the one everyone is looking at with envy. He doesn’t usually allow himself to be this vain, but tonight is different. Tonight the rules don’t apply. Tonight is all for him.

Damian is last to approach him and when he does, he offers him a tight hug, not caring about his now obvious stench or the people around them. He holds on a little longer than is considered appropriate for ‘just friends’, but seeing as he’s breaking all his own rules tonight, Sami doesn’t mind - until he hears something clatter behind him, followed by a hushed “oh shit” from Dominik.

And of course when he turns around Jey is there, tag titles in a heap by his feet at the end of the short hallway, his face closed off and unreadable.

Seriously, Sami’s life is such a cosmic joke sometimes. He shouldn’t have jinxed it at the press conference.

But instead of coming closer to confront them like Sami expects him to, Jey takes off running, leaving the tag titles behind.

Sami is momentarily stunned by the odd turn of events.

He should be doing something though, right?

“I should-” he starts, turning to address his friends and pointing to where Jey had been standing only moments ago. He doesn’t hang around long enough to gauge their reactions or wait for a reply. Instead, he rushes to pick up Jey’s titles, the straps heavy in his hands, and hurries after him.

The Bloodline locker room would be the obvious choice, but he doesn’t think Jey’s headed there, not when he expects Sami to follow him and not if he doesn’t want to explain the missing tag titles either. So instead of heading back there, Sami scouts the surrounding areas, trying door handles, apologizing whenever he encounters someone who isn’t Jey.

He finally finds him hidden away in an empty office, pacing a hole into the carpet and tugging at the short strands of hair on top of his head, leaving them to stand up in every which direction.

When he enters quietly, the other man doesn’t notice him at first, too caught up in whatever it is that occupies his mind. The minute he spots Sami however, he stumbles to a halt in the middle of the room and stiffens, his eyes wide and unguarded for once.

They show his hurt, his frustration, his anger. They also show fear. Fear of what exactly, he doesn’t know. But he’s determined to find out.

When he speaks, his voice is surprisingly soft even to his own ears. “Why did you run?”

And that’s apparently the wrong thing to ask, judging by the way Jey’s eyes harden, his guard flying up and shutting Sami out again. “Looked like you was busy,” he snarks, “didn’t wanna interrupt you ‘n the boyfriend.”

Instead of the familiar anger, Sami only feels hurt bubble up inside of him. “He’s not my boyfriend and you know it.”

“Funny. That makes one of us.” Jey’s rebuttal feels like a punch to the gut.

“Why do you even care? It’s none of your damn business anyway!” So much for not being angry.

“Fuck Sami, you deserve better than that guy, okay?” Jey presses out.

Yeah. Fuck this. He was having a good night and now that was ruined entirely.

Stupid feelings. Stupid Jey.

“And who do I deserve, huh? Do tell! Cause from where I’m standing, Damian’s a really good guy. He treats me well, he makes me laugh, he supports me! He actually cares!” And I feel absolutely nothing but friendship for him, but you’re being an ass, so you don’t get to know that, goes unsaid. “It’s not like there’s a long line of people just waiting to date me, Jey. And it’s not like I’m seeing anyone right now. And either way, nobody gets to tell me who I can and can’t talk to, okay? Especially not you! You’re not my fucking keeper!”

Hurt flashes over the Uso’s face, his carefully constructed mask slipping. He starts tugging at his already messy and unruly hair again in a way that looks borderline painful. And Sami can’t watch.

Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s in Jey’s space, grabbing both of his wrist and locking his fingers around them tightly where he pulls at them. The mindless action makes them both freeze up, a startled gasp leaving Jey’s lips, his doe eyes staring up into Sami’s, before flicking down to his lips.

It brings him back to the moment they shared a couple of weeks ago, the one back then fueled by pure rage, whereas this one was created by care and genuine concern.

It’s funny how some things can change so drastically in only a matter of weeks. How romantic feelings can pop up out of seemingly nowhere and change your entire perception of another person and their flaws.

Where Sami was previously irritated, he’s now endeared, where he was frustrated, he’s now concerned and where he was indifferent, he is now intrigued.

And to his knowledge only love can do that - and there! - he can admit it, alright?

He’s in love with Jey Uso.

Holy shit.

He is in love with Jey.

Jey whose dark eyes are still locked in on Sami’s lips and who still hasn’t made a move to walk away or say something. Jey who’s just standing there, with wrists locked up inside Sami’s firm hold and his plush lips the tiniest bit agape - lips that look so damn inviting.

Sami doesn’t quite know what possesses him to do what he does next - or maybe he does. It doesn’t matter, really.

He simply leans in and presses his dry lips to Jey’s in a whisper-soft kiss that turns his entire world on its head.

He barely has a chance to enjoy the feeling or the moment, before the other man is stirred back into action, breaking the redhead’s hold on his wrists and shoving him back roughly, just like he did the last time.

Sami stumbles back, still dazed, and trips, falling straight on his ass, the bump to his tailbone sending a painful jolt through his spine.

Jey stands over him wide-eyed. Panicked. Arms stretched out as though he was trying to catch him.

They stare at each other, not saying anything. He doesn’t know how much time passes.

A loud banging noise just outside the door startles them out of their stupor.

Without a word, Jey moves to grab the discarded title belts off the floor. And then he runs.

Again.

(5)The fifth time it happens Sami loses all hope.

For days, after what Sami only refers to as ‘the incident’ inside his own head, he feels terrible.

Terrible about the way he basically forced that kiss on Jey, when the Uso had never even acted the slightest bit interested in him nor given him any indication that he was into men whatsoever.

Someone staring at your lips doesn’t equal an automatic invitation to kiss them. He learned that the hard way. Though the pain in his aching tailbone isn’t nearly as bad as the one in his heart.

The kiss shouldn’t have happened, simple as that. And it won’t happen again. No matter how much he wishes for a repeat performance, Jey has made it abundantly clear that Sami overstepped and that he’s not interested.

They haven’t talked about it. Hell, they haven’t been alone together in the same room long enough to have any kind of meaningful conversation.

Jey isn’t exactly avoiding him, but Sami gets the strong feeling that it’s more than just mere coincidence that there’s always someone else in the room with them.

He hates to admit it, but he’s getting frustrated.

All he wants is to apologize to Jey and tell him he doesn't expect anything from him, so they can move on with their lives and possibly, maybe even become real friends one day.

The thought of just being friends makes his heart ache painfully inside his chest, but he’d rather have Jey as a friend or brother than not have him at all.

He has to accept that Jey simply isn’t into him that way. Shoving him off, running away and avoiding the topic altogether after sharing a one-sided kiss is a pretty good indicator of that.

Still, that doesn’t keep Jey from hovering the next time they bump into Judgment Day. And apparently it also doesn’t keep him from shooting daggers at Damian.

When he confronts him about it later - with both Jimmy and Solo in earshot - all he does is shrug. “Just looking out for you, Sami. You’re my brother.”

And wow, if that isn’t a one way express ticket straight into friendzone country, he doesn’t know what is.

He decides he has to move on. Desperately.

That’s why, later that same day when Damian asks if he wants to come along and join them on their day off, he says “Actually, I’d love to.”, catching both himself and the other man by surprise.

Instead of a little grin, he receives a bright and pleased smile this time around.

(He pretends not to notice the way Jey’s head snaps up in surprise at his answer, nor the way he keeps moping and glowering at everyone for the rest of the day. And he absolutely ignores the way he mockingly wishes Sami “lots of fun with his boyfriend” once they part ways.)

Two days later, he finds himself on a yacht trip with Damian and the rest of TJD. Knowing Damian and his wild stories, he’d expected (and feared) some kind of crazy party with a bunch of strangers, but surprisingly it’s only them and their skipper for the day, though the guy vanishes as soon as they reach their destination for the day and the anchor is dropped.

Now it’s just the five of them.

Rhea is mixing drinks - non-alcoholic for Sami she’s quick to assure him - behind the small bar, Dom and Finn are lounging and sunbathing a few feet away from him, and Damian keeps eyeing him carefully from where he’s sat next to him.

It’s nice.

It is.

But despite everything that happened between them, he somehow knows that all of this would be way more fun for him if Jey were around. If things weren’t so complicated between them right now. If he could just tell his stupid heart to stop longing for Jey and be okay with being his friend instead.

Everything would be a million times easier.

They’ve been friendly and at ease with each other in front of the cameras and around the family, ever since Jey embraced him at Survivor Series. Deep down he wishes, no, he longs for that same level of comfort and ease when it’s just the two of them with nobody else around.

“Hey, what’s with the long face? C’mon we’re here to have fun!” Damian’s voice rips him away from his spiraling thoughts.

The taller man is holding out a large hand in offering and the second Sami takes it, he finds himself being thrown over a broad shoulder, his body dangling like he weighs nothing.

He’s sputtering, protesting, but to no avail. The rest of the group eggs them on when Damian steps up to the ledge of the boat, giving Sami a good idea of what’s happening next.

And before he knows it, they hit the cool water with a splash, all noise disappearing when they go underwater.

It’s oddly serene down here, and for a moment he’s able to forget about everything else and simply enjoy being in the moment.

His lungs quickly remind him of his need for oxygen though and so he propels himself back to the surface, greedily sucking air into his lungs once he gets there.

He finds Damian waiting for him with a cheeky grin and next thing he knows he’s being splashed.

And oh! This means war!

Soon enough the rest of the group joins them in the water and then it’s well and truly ON.

They end up having a fun afternoon full of teasing and joy and laughter, the members of Judgement Day way cooler and way more chill than people usually give them credit for.

Sami likes that they’re a real family just like his own, and whether they’re bound by blood or mutual hardship, they prove that it doesn’t make a difference at all. The connections and the love are exactly the same.

He lets himself enjoy the rare quality time with his friends to the fullest, and yet, despite everything, Jey is constantly on his mind.

And that’s why, when Damian leans in for a kiss on the docks at the end of the day, Sami turns his head sideways, so that it lands on his cheek instead.

When he pulls back, Damian doesn’t look disappointed though, nor does he look surprised. He just chuckles and his mouth pulls into that knowing little grin he always seems to wear around him and Jey lately.

The rest of their group wears matching expressions and somehow Sami feels like he’s missing out on the joke here. His shoulders grow tense on their own accord and his stomach drops to his knees.

What the hell is going on?

It’s Damian who breaks the silence, an easy arm coming to rest around his shoulder. “Relax Sami, we all know.”

“Know what?”

“That you’re A over T in love with the Uso boy, mate.” Rhea rolls her eyes at him… almost fondly?

“Still no clue wha’ yer see in t’at asshole.” Finn mutters under his breath, just loud enough for the rest of them to hear.

“He does have a great ass.” Dom muses. That earns him a sharp slap from Rhea. “Ow! What? Have you seen that dude's backside?” They all seem to contemplate that for a moment, and ultimately no one objects.

They do, however, say their goodbyes and make their way to the parking lot in a subtle attempt to give Damian and Sami some privacy.

He watches them leave, confusion clouding his brain when he turns back to look at the other man. “So if you knew all along, why still invite me? Why try to kiss me?”

Damien smiles and shrugs in response. “You’re sweet, Sami. And anyone who can’t see that is a fucking fool. And since Uso can’t seem to get his head out of his ass, I thought why not? Look, we had a cool day. You had fun, right? We’re still friends. No harm done. And I got my answer now.”

Sami feels weirdly touched by that. He thinks that in an alternate timeline where Jey doesn’t exist, they’ll probably end up together. A timeline without Jey Uso really isn’t one he wants to imagine though.

“Thanks Damian, really.” He means it.

“Don’t worry about it. But hey! Promise me you’ll think about it if Uso doesn’t shoot his shot soon, yeah?”

That makes him snort. “Hah, nice try. But Jey doesn’t like me that way, trust me. Hell, he barely even likes me at all!”

The other man’s face changes, a mysterious expression taking over his face “I wouldn’t be so sure about that Sami. I think you have a pretty good shot. Do you trust me?”

In all honesty, Sami doesn’t believe him one bit.

Still, he nods his head, slightly intrigued.

Cause at this point?

He'll take all the help he can get.

(+1) The next (but most definitely not the last) time it happens, Sami (fucking finally) understands.

Jey has been silently suffering for weeks and months and he’s just about done.

Sure, a lot of it was entirely his own fault, but that doesn’t mean it hurt any less.

Watching Sami flirt with that prick Priest all this time had been one thing. Watching Sami agree to hang out and possibly go on a date with that very same prick? That’s another thing entirely.

The flirting had looked harmless enough, at least from Sami’s side, so running a few quick and painful interferences under the guise of simply aiming to be a giant pain in the Honorary Uce’s ass, had been enough to temporarily calm Jey’s jealousy.

The intense stare downs and fights that followed every new encounter had been enough to get him his much needed fill of Sami’s undivided attention.

Things had been good. At least for a while.

He doesn’t know what changed that made Sami agree to the invitation he usually declined (he absolutely does know, thus far he’s just been a coward about it, looking away every time the redhead unleashes his sad and dejected puppy dog eyes on him), but he knows that he needs to do something about it, before it’s too late.

If he wants to shoot his shot, if he ever wants to let Sami know how he truly feels, he has to do it now.

He’s scared though. Real scared.

He isn’t even entirely sure how it all started. Cause for real - Jey couldn't stand Sami at first, alright?

The second Sami joined their family he had betrayal and rat written all over him.

Jey hated his fucking guts.

But surprisingly enough, his family liked him. Jimmy liked him. Roman liked him. Wiseman liked him. Hell, even Solo liked him - and Solo never liked anyone - half the time Jey isn’t even sure if Solo likes any of them. And they’re his blood. He likes Sami though.

Point is: His family liked Sami. His family accepted Sami. And Roman’s word was what counted, so he accepted it with a scowl and kept quiet.

Okay, maybe not that.

He probably wasn’t as quiet about it as they would’ve liked him to be. But somebody had to do something, alright? It was their family after all. And someone had to protect it.

And so he was mean and confrontational and brash and loud-mouthed, kicking and screaming and trying everything in his power to get Sami the fuck out and keep his family safe.

But Sami kept trying. And trying. And trying.

And funnily enough he fit. Not in the obvious ‘mean guy’ kind of way. No - he fit with them in all his bumbling idiocy.

Sami was loud and brash, in many ways just like Jey, but he was a lot more diplomatic and also a lot more endearing about it. His idiocy and his comedic timing proved to be his secret superpowers. And despite never knowing when to shut the hell up, that particular quality of his was exactly what ended up saving Jey’s sorry ass from Roman time and time again.

In many ways, Sami felt like magic.

As if he knew exactly what to say and when to say it to keep Roman’s temper from boiling over.

Lately, more often than not, Jey suspects that that might actually be the case.

For all that Sami liked to pretend he was an absolute idiot with no filter, Jey remembered that Sami liked to call himself ‘master strategist’, for all he liked to pretend to be a helpless deer in the ring during his matches, Jey knew Sami could outwrestle pretty much everyone on the roster - him and his family included.

Just because no one else could see it, doesn’t mean Jey couldn’t.

Sami was a perfect fit for them. No matter how much it originally pained him to admit it.

And before he fucking knew what was happening to him, the boiling anger in his stomach turned into a soft flutter whenever he was around their Honorary Uce, his scowls turned into smiles and laughs without his permission, and he had to work even harder to hide them.

And his dreams of ousting Sami from his family? They turned into dreams of drawn-out lazy kisses, his hands holding onto a pale waist and pulling at strands of messy red hair.

More often than not his dreams were filled with scenes of intense lovemaking that made him jolt awake in the middle of the night, sticky with sweat and the mess inside his boxers.

And later on a different sort of dream joined. He dreamed of shared moments filled with sweet intimacy and trust, so much trust that it made him wish that they were reality. That they were a possibility.

So yes, before he fucking knew what was happening, Jey was falling in love. And there was nothing he could do about it.

Well, except for acting like a jealous prick and fending off other suitors while also keeping Sami at arm's-length apparently. He proved to be a professional at that.

At first he didn’t even mean to butt in. But once he did, his temper and jealousy kept getting the better of him time and time again. Not that that worked out for him very well, unless he counted the kiss that he so cowardly ran away from, not because he didn’t wanna kiss Sami, but because he’s scared of his family’s reaction.

Which brings him back to his current predicament.

He’s silently watching Sami and that prick Priest (Damian, he corrects inside his head, Sami calls him Damian.) from across the room, the former standing with his back to him.

For safety reasons Jey has parked himself next to a bunch of large crates, ready to leap and hide behind them like the coward he is, the second Sami makes any move to turn around.

From over here, he’s taking in the way Sami’s large pale hands keep moving and the way his back muscles keep contracting under his shirt, where he animatedly talks to the other man.

He’s pretty sure Priest spotted him a while ago, but he hasn’t alerted Sami to Jey’s presence just yet.

Instead the guy keeps shooting him curious yet calculated glances over Sami’s shoulder from time to time, before his eyes settle back on him, an almost bemused smile making the corners of his mouth twitch every time it happens.

If he’s being perfectly honest, despite knowing that he has to make a move eventually, Jey isn’t really sure what to do next. All he knows is that they can’t keep going like this. Something’s gotta give. Though he’s not entirely sure what that something is.

He’s still scared of his family. Of what they would think, of what they would say and do, of what their reaction would be if he pursued Sami romantically. The thought of things not going well, of losing his family, even temporarily, frightens him.

But at the same time, the thought of losing Sami to someone else frightens him just as much.

Lately he keeps thinking that even if things go badly, his family would eventually come around and accept him, just like they always did. But even if that’s the case, the thought of putting a (temporary) dent in their relationship, still scares the living shit out of him.

He can’t for the life of him make up his mind about what he wants more. He wants to make his family proud. Always. But he also wants Sami. Always.

And so he stands there like an idiot, his shoulders tense, his hands cramping where he’s balled them up into tight fists, his nails digging into his palms, and watches on while the man he loves gets chummy with another guy. A guy, Jey reminds himself, he’s pretty sure Sami went on a date with earlier that same week, and apparently a good one too, after all they’re still talking to each other.

The minutes tick by, the flow of conversation between the two men never once stopping and now that Jey isn’t busy with making an ass of himself, he can see bright as day what Sami meant when he called Damian ‘a good guy’.

His adoration for Sami is written all over his face. It’s in the way his eyes crinkle around the corners. It’s in the way his lips curl into a soft smile whenever it’s Sami’s turn to talk. It’s in the way he laughs whenever Sami says something particularly funny and the way he rests an easy hand on Sami’s shoulder when he moves to turn them sideways, the profile of Sami’s gorgeous face now perfectly visible to Jey.

Jey is ready to leap into hiding, but despite the new angle, Sami doesn’t seem to notice him at all and he’s perfectly fine with keeping it that way. For now.

That is, until Damian reaches out, huge toothy grin in place, and starts toying with a strand of Sami’s unruly hair. He twirls it between his fingers, before carefully pushing it behind the other man’s ear, trailing his hand over the Honorary Uce’s cheek and neck, before it settles back on his shoulder.

The casual intimacy of it makes Jey sees red.

How fucking dare he-

Jumping into action, he darts across the room in a few quick steps, barely catching Sami’s faint and hopeless “I don’t think that’s gonna work.” followed by Damian’s smug “I think it just did.”, before he’s grabbing their Honorary Uce by the collar and hauling his ass out of there.

All Sami can do is stagger alongside him as he swiftly walks them down the long corridor in search of some semblance of privacy.

As soon as they’re out of sight, he shoves and pushes at him until he’s pressed up against the closest wall, Jey’s body effectively trapping him, just like Sami has done to him before, and catches his lips in a fiery passionate kiss.

This one isn’t like their first one at all. No. Instead of staying perfectly still like a statue, Jey lays it all on the line, puts all his unspoken feelings into it and straight up devours Sami’s pliant mouth.

The other man takes a minute to catch on, but when he does they’re off to the races, pushing and pulling at each other, hands wandering and helplessly clawing, hot breaths mingling as their tongues slide together and their teeth clack.

This kiss leaves no doubt. It feels like a love confession and a heated fight all at the same time and Jey honestly can’t say if that bodes well for whatever is to come once they pull apart.

He tries to draw out the moment for as long as he possibly can, latching onto Sami’s neck when they both need to come up for air, drawing some wonderfully sinful noises from the other man’s throat and sucking a mark into his pale skin.

When he finally draws back, satisfied with his work when he sees the dark purpling spot he’s left behind, Sami blinks at him owlishly, almost dazed and Jey can’t help but feel his worry dissolve, a hint of smugness taking its place.

“You done flirting with other people now?”

He brings up a hand to Sami’s neck, fingers probing and pushing at the lovebite teasingly.

Something in Sami’s gaze shifts once the puzzle pieces finally click together. A big smile spreads across his face, before his eyes turn dark.

He flips them around effortlessly, now pressing Jey’s back into the wall, so that he’s the one trapped by Sami’s warm body against his.

This time around, he one hundred percent doesn’t mind, already turning into putty in the other man’s hands.

“Huh, guess I am.” Then. A sigh. “Took you long enough.”

With that he reclaims the Uso’s mouth, Jey’s thoughts already drifting to all the ways he wants to be devoured by this man later, once they have some real actual privacy.

Yeah, he admits to himself, it did. But he has it on good authority that in the end, it was well worth the wait.

FIN

#my fic #my fics #samijey fic #wwe fic #samijey #sami zayn #jey uso #jeysami fic #jeysami #writing updates #fic requests #m writes #trying to step up my game by making my own banners and dividers (I'm a newbie at this pls be kind lol)#🐨

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onbeinganangel · 3 months

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lmfao guess what was NOT on my bingo card for the year? i mean, F U C K — this wasn't even on my bingo card three days ago kjdgjkhkldj @fluxweeed i'm sorry i can't let a good idea rest!! thank you for the theo brainworms, i thought about him really hard and then got drunk and then there were sooooooo many words on the page already i thought i may as well let the world see it. happy belated solstice!!

o fiery sun | harry potter/theo nott, 3k words, explicit

#idk what i'm doing here i'm going to be so serious #if this is bad just don't tell me just ignore it just scroll past #we can pretend it never happened #nottpott #m writes

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thisantithesis · 2 months

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something i wrote based on this art because i can’t help myself / jegulus, 594 words

It’s a rainy day when it happens.

James is at his favorite bakery, eating his favorite cake, mourning the loss of a beautiful sunny day that would’ve found him spending all his time outside.

As it stands, though, the skies are pouring out harder than they have in months, immediately soaking anyone who chooses to step foot outside. It’s on days like these that James usually finds himself hanging out with friends, all of them gathering together in one place and spending their time laughing themselves silly.

Today wouldn’t have been any different, but James has asked every single one of his friends, all of them giving him the same answer: sorry, I already have plans.

So, that’s why he finds himself at his favorite shop, eating away his sorrows and cursing the rain for ruining his day. He’s mildly upset, not really with his friends because it’s not their fault, and more with the situation as a whole.

James is able to spend time by himself, but he finds it’s always better to be with other people. The silence around him when he’s alone feels oppressive, to the point that it becomes unbearable. So really, finding himself in a public space when he could’ve used his free time to clean any part of his flat that desperately needs it is par for the course.

James is sitting at the window, watching people run along the sidewalks while trying—and failing—to shield themselves from the rain, when he sees him.

He’s the only one not running, covered by a simple, large black umbrella. While everyone else is rushing to their destinations, he’s walking, albeit at a brisk pace, but with a calm air about him.

The sight of the man takes James aback, where he has to blink once or twice more to make sure he’s really seeing this him, because there’s something about his aloof demeanor and piercing blue eyes that causes a wave of déjà-vu to crash over James.

This single moment in time stretches on forever when the man’s gaze flicks towards James’ through the window, a brief flash of emotion bursting through the pale blue. Their eyes meet and lock in place, and if James didn’t know any better he would think they were the only two people left on earth.

Meeting the man’s gaze feels like profound loss and extreme happiness, like home and hurt all rolled into one. The sheer strength of these unknown emotions hit James right in the chest, leaving him breathless and aching. The burst of emotions in the other man’s eyes expands and takes over, momentarily causing a misstep in his gait.

Everything comes crashing back down around James when the man turns his gaze away as he rights himself, breaking whatever connection they had. Time speeds back up to normal and the sound from the shop rushes back in, leaving James stumped as to what he just experienced.

The stranger never turns back around to the window, continuing his brisk walk in the rain as if nothing happened, as if they didn’t just share a very real moment. He has the strongest urge to go and run after the man, to stop him and ask if he felt whatever that just was too, but his thoughts are interrupted when he feels his phone vibrate.

James answers the call, absent-mindedly listening to the person on the other end, all while looking through the window and watching the black umbrella slowly fade away into the distance, inexplicably feeling like he just lost something significant.

#regulus black #james potter #regulus x james #jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #jegulus fic #marauders #marauders era #m writes

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formula-hamilton · 1 year

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The Favorite Duo | Lewis Hamilton x reader

Summary: Everyone thinks that Lewis and his best friend are dating. Face claim: Anna Lin A/N: I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think

yourusername

Liked by lewishamilton, spinzbeatinc, and 16.571 others

yourusername Life lately

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lewishamilton 🔥

yourfriend Slaying as always 🥵

hamiltonsworld I don't know if I wanna be her or be with her

44grid Be with her, no doubt. Lewis is one lucky man hamiltonsworld Ermm sorry to break it to you but they're just friends...

lewishamilton

Liked by yourusername, pierregasly, and 1.254.156 others

lewishamilton Paris with bestie

Tagged yourusername

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yourusername 🫶🏼 best city with the best friend

mercedesamgf1 Fave duo 🤩

roscoelovescoco Mums and dads 😃

yourusername

Liked by lewishamilton, yourfriend, and 20.678 others

yourusername Summer days with you

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lewishamilton ❤️

stillwerise I still don't believe that they're just friends

yourusername added a story

yourusername

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yourusername Birthday celebrations with my boo

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yourfriend Couple goals

lewisarmy No Lewis?

mercerdesupdates She always posts Lewis on her birthday. Wtf is going on?

lewishamilton

Liked by landonorris, roscoelovescoco, and 1.381.169 others

lewishamilton No time for distractions

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mercedesamgf1 👊 let's go

yourusername

Liked by lewishamilton, spinzbeatinc, and 17.871 others

yourusername I'm doing good I'm on some new shit

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hamiltonsworld Lewis in the likes!!!!

yourfriend Baddie no 1

lewischampion You are GLOWING

lewishamilton Looking good

lewishamilton

Liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, and 1.691.163 others

lewishamilton Never letting her go again

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yourusername Best day with the best boyfriend :)

spinzbeatinc Finally! Thank you lord for hearing my prayers

roscoelovescoco Mums and dads 😃

#f1 imagine #lewis hamilton #instagram imagine #insta au #m writes #insta edit #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fic #social media au #lewis hamilton social media au #f1 social media au #lewis hamilton insta au

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littlelou22 · 1 year

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pretend | joel miller x fem!reader

summary: joel ends things with you, leaving you in the dark as to why. will the two of you get back together or stay apart?

warnings: angst, hurt, mean!joel, insecure!joel, eventual fluff, age gap (reader in undefined age but young, joel’s canon age), language, men being TRASH, violence, y/n used like twice, probs shitty writing, idk let me know if I miss any

divider credit: @saradika

word count: 6.2k

author's note: my first post, let me know what you think :)

requests open!

The two of you stood on opposite sides of the bed in your – his – room, chest heaving as you stare at Joel. You didn’t know what had gotten into him, the two of you were fine when you returned from patrol a few hours earlier. Joel had gone to help Tommy with something and you had taken Ellie to see whatever movie was playing tonight.

“I don’t understand why you’re being so cold with me,” you spoke, shaking your head.

And you truly didn’t. You and Ellie had stopped at the Tipsy Bison to pick up dinner for the three of you after Joel was helping Tommy. Ellie had run off while you waited for the food, seeing Dina stationed at one of the tables. You passed the time at the bar, occasionally making forced small talk with the other patrons. Even though you had been in Jackson for a few months, you still didn’t feel quite at ease with most of the people here.

After you got the food, you ventured off home with Ellie to wait until Joel was done. But he never showed, not until after you and Ellie had eaten and the younger girl had gone off to bed. Joel had stormed in, kicked off his boots, and immediately went upstairs, not sparing you a single glance. Obviously, you had followed him, but you have no idea how you ended up here.

“I’m done with this,” Joel says, eyes everywhere except on you. “I’m done with you.”

“What?” You take a step back as if his words had physically pushed you.

“I needed you for her. That’s it,” Joel snapped at you. “Now that it’s over, I don’t see a reason to pretend anymore. Understand?”

You felt as if the air had been sucked out of you, as if Joel had kicked you right in the stomach. You thought you finally had a grasp on Joel, that you could finally read how he was feeling. But as you stared at him from across the room, he felt more like a stranger than the man you fell in love with.

You wanted to scream, to cry, to plead with him to not do this. To not leave you like everyone else did. But you didn’t – you couldn’t. Before you could even process what was happening, you were nodding.

“Okay,” you breathed, nodding your head. You felt the tears burning behind your eyes, begging to be released, but you refused to crack in front of him. Refused to let him see how much his words had made your heart ache. “If that’s how you feel, then okay.”

So, you left. Out of his bedroom and down the hall, passing Ellie’s door where you knew she was inevitably listening to the fight. Down the stairs and out the front door, letting it swing closed behind you. Your feet carried you down the dark street until you couldn’t go any further. The tears burned behind your eyes, a sob escaping you as you stumbled into the stables, barely making it to one of the hay bales before collapsing in on yourself.

You didn’t understand what happened, what had changed since you got back from Salt Lake City. Since the three of you tried to integrate into the community. Since Ellie started at school. Since you and Joel started to patrol and help wherever you could in Jackson.

Did you do something that upset Joel? That made him rethink whatever it was between the two of you? The two of you weren’t officially together but your relationship wasn’t nothing. At least, you didn’t think you were nothing.

Clearly, you were wrong. What you thought was a relationship was actually just a means to get by, a way to pass time for Joel. You get it, you really try to. The road was long, it was tough, and it was lonely. The three of you had seen, and done, unthinkable things to get Ellie to the Fireflies. Obviously, that didn’t go as planned, landing the three of you back in Jackson. Where it felt impossible to return to some semblance of normalcy. So, how could you blame him for using you as an escape?

You just wish he would’ve told you from the beginning what it actually was.

It was morning by the time you dragged yourself out of the stables. Thanking whatever higher power there was that you didn’t have morning patrol, you made your way to Tommy and Maria’s. If Joel didn’t want to pretend, then neither could you. You couldn’t pretend to be okay with being around him after what had happened, so you decided to avoid him at all costs. But, you couldn’t abandon Ellie, not after everything the young girl had been through. Even if she was more distant after Salt Lake, you couldn’t bring yourself to up and leave her. You wouldn’t.

With a deep breath, your knuckles rapped against Tommy and Maria’s front door. You knew it was early, the sun barely just peeking over the horizon but you couldn’t wait. You and Joel were assigned second patrol, and you’d rather not be subjected to that after last night.

“You look like shit,” Tommy said after answering the door. You knew you did, sleeping on a rectangular stack of hay could only offer so much.

“Good morning to you too,” you force a smile at him. You liked Tommy, you had become close with him and his wife after settling in Jackson but you didn’t want to see the younger Miller brother right now. You knew it wasn’t his fault, but you couldn’t help the deepening pit in your stomach at the sight of him. “Is Maria up yet?”

“She’s out back, hanging laundry on the line,” he answers, eyes scanning over your puffy eyes and pale face. “You okay, bug?”

“M’fine Tommy, thank you” you grimace at the nickname. Joel had gifted you the name when the two of you met and upon arriving in Jackson, Tommy took up to calling you that as well. You make your way to the back of the house where you found Maria, true to Tommy’s word. Sighing, you grab one of the shirts in the basket, joining her at the laundry line.

“Good morning,” Maria muses, a playful smile on her face as she turns to you, wiping her hands on her jeans before resting them on her hips. “What can I do for you?”

“What makes you think I need something?” You can’t help but respond. Maria was the closest thing to a friend you had in Jackson, it was hard not to feel as though you could be yourself around her.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you up and out this early in the morning,” she says, glancing back at the house to see Tommy in the window, watching the women through the glass. He shrugs, answering her silent query. “What’s wrong?”

You sigh heavily, pinching your nose between your fingers after hanging the shirt on the line. “I need you to switch my patrol partner.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Maria asks, voice gentle as if you were a frightened deer.

“No paradise to have troubles in,” you mutter, shaking your head. “I don’t want to talk about it. It didn’t work out, I just need you to switch my partner.”

Maria stared at you, narrowing her eyes as she, like Tommy, surveyed your condition. You knew she saw right through you. Knew there was more to the story than you were letting on to.

“Okay,” she nodded after a minute, looking at the watch on her wrist. “There’s still fifteen minutes before first patrol, go let Alexander know he’s with Miller now. You can patrol with Marcus now.”

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, relief filling you to the thought of not being around Joel. The relief soon left at the mention of your new partner, but you couldn’t be picky here. “Thank you Maria, I won’t let you down.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she replies, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “You better get going if you want to make it.”

“Right,” you say, turning on your heels to start the walk back to the stables, knowing the morning patrol people would be there by now.

Maria watches you leave, only making her way inside once you are out of her sight. As she enters the kitchen, Tommy appears before her with raised eyebrows.

“What was that about?” He asks, passing her a cup of warm tea.

Maria sighs, shaking her head. “I’m not sure, but your dumbass brother might.”

“Joel?” Tommy questions, confused as to what might’ve happened between his brother and the woman he is obviously infatuated with.

“Do you have another brother that I don’t know about?” she raises her eyes at her husband, shaking her head. “She wanted to switch patrol partners, wouldn’t tell me why or what happened.”

“Shit,” Tommy sighs, leaning back against the counter before muttering. “What did you do, Joel?”

“I have no idea,” Maria shrugs before setting her mug in the sink. She pats Tommy’s shoulder before making her way towards the stairs, turning to face her husband before she climbs them. “But have fun letting him know!”

“That was fun,” Marcus smiled at you as the two of you rode your horses through the front gates after patrol. Eyes zeroing in on your hips as they rise and fall with each step of your horse.

You force a smile at him, half listening to him as your eyes dart back and forth in search of Joel. You knew he was due to head on second patrol and the last thing you wanted to do was see him. “It sure was.”

“Alex never looked that pretty when taking down Infected,” Marcus continues, not picking up on your disinterest in him. “Glad there was a change up, I was beginning to get bored of watching him.”

You don’t offer him a response as you continue towards the stables, preoccupied with hoping and praying that Joel and his new partner had already left for patrol. For once, whatever higher power out there was on your side as you find the stables vacant.

“Thank God,” you mutter to yourself, sliding off your horse, Luna, to guide her towards her stall which was thankfully far away from Marcus’. Once you got her in her stall, you began to take off her saddle and get her ready for the night. As you did so, your mind wandered to your new patrol partner.

You weren’t oblivious, you knew what Marcus was doing. It wouldn’t be the first time that he tried to sweet talk you. The man had been adamant to gain your attention since you stepped foot in Jackson after the Firefly incident. Whether it was at the stables, the Tipsy Bison, or at movie night, Marcus tried everything to engage you in a conversation.

Any chance he got, Marcus would try his best to make an impression on you. To ask you out on a date. None of his advances ever made it far, you weren’t interested in the men of Jackson and had made it clear. At least, you thought you did, especially after yesterday’s event at the Tipsy Bison.

While you were waiting for the food, Marcus and his friends were putting the ‘tipsy’ in Tipsy Bison. When drinking, Marcus liked to get a little handsy and his previous rejected advances did not seem to deter him trying again. In good Marcus fashion, he attempted, again, to get you to go out with him. You rejected him, as you had many times before, by sliding his arm off your shoulders before moving to a different part of the bar. Luckily, your food was ready soon after so you didn’t have to endure his stares any longer.

“Penny for your thoughts?” A voice rang out in the stall, causing you to whip around to find the intruder.

Ellie leaned against the opening, arms crossed over her chest as she watched you catch your breath, clearly you had not heard her enter the stables.

“Jesus, Els, you can’t sneak up on people like that,” you breathe, shaking your head at the young girl. You eye the backpack she throws onto the ground before she flops down onto the stool you had brought in earlier. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school right now?”

“It’s boring,” she answers as if it was an acceptable reason. “You gonna tell Joel I’m skipping?”

You stiffen at the mention of his name, glancing at Ellie before answering. “Nope.”

“You want to talk about what happened last night?” She presses, confirming your previous suspicions of her eavesdropping tendencies.

“Nope.” Exiting the stall, you make yourself appear busy to avoid further questioning from the girl.

Ellie follows, picking at the end of her sleeves, shifting from foot to foot as she watches you flit around the stable. You spare a glance at her, knowing that her mind is running a mile a minute as it gears up before speaking.

“You okay, Bellie?” You ask, halting your work.

“You aren’t gonna leave, right?” Ellie asks after a moment, eyes avoiding your face.

You sigh, setting down the pail of food you gathered before walking up to the girl. You place your hands on her shoulders, giving her a gentle shake. “Of course not, I promised you that I would never leave you, remember?”

The girl nods, “I remember.”

“Good,” you smile at her, ruffling up her hair before giving her a gentle push towards the stable doors. “Go back to school before you get us both in trouble.”

After Ellie leaves, you putter around the stables for a few hours before you hear the clopping of horses approaching the stables. Peeking out of the window, you see Joel and his new patrol partner.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You think, immediately running back to Luna’s stall. You frantically grab your things and hightail it out of the back entrance of the stables. Leaning against the back of the barn, you wait until you hear the men enter before making your way back to town. You had no idea how you were going to avoid Joel for the foreseeable future, but there was no way you were ready to face him.

The next few weeks went by similarly. You left the house before the sun rose, before anyone in the house was awake. You would go on patrol, endure several hours of the torture that is Marcus and his antics before returning to the town. You’d wait to watch Joel leave for patrol before going to the house you shared or going into town. Once he was back home, you’d return to the stables where you would spend your evenings, only returning home in the late hours of the night. One day while he was on patrol, you had moved all of your things into the third bedroom that was now your own. It worked, you rarely ran into Joel. When you did, you would turn and go the opposite direction or retreat back to your room.

It worked until it didn’t.

You were at the Tipsy Bison, leaned against the bar with a drink in your hand as you listened to Maria. She had to practically drag you out here after days of begging for you to socialize. To be a part of the community. You partly did it to get her off your back, but as you listened to the conversation around you, you felt happy that she managed to get you to come out. It had been a long time since you stayed in one place for longer than ten minutes without constantly checking over your shoulder.

Maria had been recounting a story about Tommy from early on in their relationship when you felt it. Felt eyes burning into your back. Stares that felt like ice water spilling down your shirt, sending vicious shivers up your spine. It felt uneasy, putting you on edge. The longer it lingered, the more uncomfortable you grew.

Turning to give the establishment a once over, you noticed two things. One, Joel was in the corner with his brother, hands full with glasses of neat whiskey as they conversed with one another. Eyes on Tommy, not on you. And two, your oh so lovely patrol partner making his way over towards your group.

“Maria,” you start, turning to your friend, attempting to say your goodbyes before booking it out of the bar when a rather large and heavy arm is slung around your shoulders.

Marcus steadies himself on your shoulder, the smell of alcohol seeping from his pores as he surveys your group, eyes lingering on you for too long. “Ladies! Looking fantastic tonight!”

“Why thank you, Marcus,” one of the women, Fiona, in your group respond, smirking at the obviously drunk man. She bats her eyelashes at him and you feel sick. “How can we help you?”

“Just wanted to talk to my patrol partner here,” Marcus turns to peer down at you, offering you a smile as he squeezes you to his side. “Tommy told me we are patrolling a new area tomorrow, so I figured the two of us could talk strategy. Maybe over a drink or two.”

You grimace, trying to shrug his arm off your shoulder but he is gripping onto you impeccably tight. “It’s late, Marcus, and I was just about to leave. We can talk about it tomorrow.”

“How about he walks you home?” Maria suggests, raising her eyebrows at you. You throw her a look, hoping she picks up on the obvious disapprovement you have over this idea. But she doesn’t, the other women in the group joining in on the idea. “The two of you can discuss it on the way back.”

“It’s the least you can do,” Fiona nods at you, cutting you off when you go to protest. “You did force him to change partners, you can’t blame the man for wanting to make sure he’s safe tomorrow.”

Sending Fiona a hard glare, you push Marcus’ arm off of your shoulder to slip on your coat. “Fine, let’s go.”

You wave off the group’s goodbyes before beelining for the door. The faster you get out of here, the faster you can get home and away from Marcus. On the way out, you glance at the table that Tommy and Joel were residing at, finding it vacant. At this point, you didn’t care if you would run into Joel at the house. Anything was preferable to spending any more time than necessary with your insufferable patrol partner.

After exiting the building, you start towards home at a quick pace, hoping to shorten the usual ten minute walk into a five minute walk. You don’t feel Marcus at your side, hoping that you lost him in your haste out of the bar. Your thoughts are silenced when you feel his hand wrap around your wrist, yanking you to a halt and into one of the allies in the town square.

“What’s the rush, sweetheart?” Marcus smirks, pulling closer to you as his grip on your wrist tightens.

“Got the kid waiting up for me back home,” you quickly lie, tugging your wrist back in an attempt to free yourself. “QZ schools weren’t the best, she needs help with her homework.”

He chuckles, shaking his head at you before backing you into the brick wall of the alley behind you. “I’m sure her dad can help her with that. We have some things to discuss.”

“It would be best to discuss whatever it is in the morning,” you gulp, pressing closer to the wall to create more space between the two of you. “When we both haven’t been at a bar for the night. With clearer minds.”

“Baby,” Marcus breathes, “My mind has never been more clear.”

He ducks his head, pressing his lips forcefully against yours. His hands move to your hips, pressing himself into you. You desperately try pulling your head back to avoid him, but the brick wall behind you prevents you from moving away. Panicking, you sink your teeth into his lip, biting down until you taste the metallic tang of blood. Your hands move to his chest, pushing him off with all your strength. Marcus stumbles back, hands dabbing at his lip to feel the damage.

“What the actual fuck are you thinking?” You seeth, wiping the taste of him away with the back of your hand. You stare at him for a beat, bewildered, before pushing off the wall to make your escape.

You make it a few steps before Marcus surges forward, arms encircling your waist to pull you off the ground. All attempts of your struggle are thwarted when he throws you onto the pavement, hands wrapping around your throat as he straddles your stomach, your arms pinned to his thighs.

“You disrespectful, little bitch,” he spits, hands tightening at your throat. “Your daddy ever teach you manners as a young girl? Like all girls need to be taught?”

You gasp at the lack of oxygen as you try to squirm your way out of his grasp. Your constant struggle only seems to agitate Marcus more as he pulls you off the ground before slamming you back down. The back of your head bounces off the hard pavement beneath the two of you. All efforts to fight cease as dots begin to swarm your vision.

“You respect men that want to talk to you,” Marcus growls, smirking at your dazed face. His hands continue to tighten around your throat. “You’re lucky to even have my attention.”

Your vision is starting to go dark when his weight is suddenly pulled off of you. Coughing, you roll onto your stomach, attempting to gain your bearings. You hear fighting next to you, propping yourself on your hands and knees to try to see what’s going on.

“So help me god,” Joel practically snarls, one hand gripping Marcus’ collar while the other delivers a nose shattering punch.

“If you ever go near her again, I will kill you.” Punch.

“If you look at her again, I will kill you.” Punch.

“If you even so much as breathe in her direction, I will kill you.” Punch.

“Do I make myself clear?”

You watch from your hands and knees as Joel delivers punch after punch until Marcus is whimpering under him, gasping for air like you were only moments earlier. Once he believes the message has been received, Joel drops his hold on Marcus and backs away, chest heaving.

You must make a noise as he turns to you, eyes quickly scanning your face before his gaze settles on the hand prints adoring your throat. He’s rushing to you before you know it, gentle hands helping raise you to your feet.

“Can you stand, bug?” Joel whispers, softly turning to check the spot where your head had kissed the payment. Today must be your lucky day, no blood appearing on his fingers after he gently ran them through your hair.

“M’fine, Joel,” you rasp, embarrassment pooling in your stomach. While you were thankful that he came by when he did, you couldn’t help but wish it happened to be anyone else.

Joel sighs, running his hand down his face. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I said I’m fine Joel,” you pull yourself out of his gentle grasp, wrapping your arms around your midsection tightly. You take a few cautious steps back, stumbling but steady enough to walk.

“Let me get you home, angel,” Joel steps forward, hands reaching out to help you. “Ellie’s been askin’ bout you.”

Shaking your head, you continue to take tentative steps away from him. “I can take care of myself, Joel. You don’t have to pretend anymore, remember?”

And with that, you turned on your heels and began to make your way back to the house. You knew he was trailing some feet behind you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care at the moment. All you wanted to do was crawl into your bed and forget that the night ever even happened.

“It looks like the bruising should heal in a few weeks,” Rick, Jackson’s one and only doctor, assesses, fingers gently pressing against the prominent hand marks on your neck. “The petechiae should clear up within the next few days.”

You nod, readjusting your collar whenever the doctor leans back to scribble down some notes. In the corner of your eye, you see Tommy and Maria share a glance before whispering, as if you weren’t even in the room.

“Any new loss of consciousness? Confusion? Dizzy spells?” Rick asks, pen pausing on the paper.

“Nope,” voice still scratchy but nowhere near as bad as it was a few days ago. “Can I go back on patrol now?”

With a sigh, Rick sets his clipboard down. “Sweetheart, what you went through was a traumatic event. You need to let yourself have time to recuperate mentally too, not just physically.”

“I take that as a no then,” you deflate when the doctor nods.

After answering the rest of Rick’s questions, you’re finally able to leave the infirmary. It seemed like you were there for hours, so to feel the sun on your face whenever you exited felt like sweet relief.

“Y/N,” Maria starts, guilt practically dripping from her.

“Maria, if you apologize one more time, I think I might implode,” you interrupt her, turning to face her. “You didn’t know, I didn’t tell you what he had been saying on patrol. This isn’t your fault.”

“But –”

“No buts,” groaning, you grab her shoulders, giving her a playful shake. “Some drunk asshole’s actions are not your fault. There was no way you could’ve known what would happen.”

“Darlin’, she’s right,” Tommy intervenes. “It’s no one’s fault but the man that did it.”

You hum in agreement, rolling your eyes at the way Maria practically pouts. “Just don’t give me another shitty patrol partner and we can call it even. Okay?”

Maria nods, pulling you into a tight hug. You gently pat her back, knowing the hug is more for her sake than yours, so you allow yourself to enjoy it, just this once.

You’re about to walk away but Tommy stops you, hand gently on your wrist. “Ellie wanted me to tell you to meet her at your house, said she needed help with somethin’.”

“Little shit skipped school again?” You groan. “What would be so important that we have to do it now instead of after dinner?”

Tommy shrugs, smirk playing on his lips. “You really think I'm privy to how she operates?”

“I wish I was,” you mutter, waving your goodbyes before trudging back to your house.

You were going to have to talk to Joel about this. Ellie skipped at least twice a week and you thought the last discussion you had about it got through to her, but apparently not. You understood why she struggled with it, being one of the only outsiders in a building full of kids that had never been outside the walls of Jackson. People looked at you guys funny, you and Joel got it too. Even in the apocalypse, school was important.

After what seemed like an eternity, you crossed the threshold of your home. “Ellie?” you called.

No response.

“Ellie Bellie?” You called again, hanging your coat on the hooks by the door. You knew Joel was on patrol so you began to wander to find the girl.

After checking the entire upstairs, you began to worry.

“Ellie!” You yelled, thundering down the steps and into the kitchen.

“In the basement!” The girl finally responded.

With a breath of relief, you descended the basement steps and found the girl sorting through boxes, various tools of Joel’s spread around her.

“What did we talk about?” You approach, tugging on her ponytail. “No more skipping school, kid.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she waves you off, pointing to the door behind her. “The water heater is in there, right?”

“How am I supposed to know?” You shrug. “The old man takes care of that stuff.”

Ellie rolls her eyes, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards the door. “Well the stupid fuckin’ thing stopped working and I want Joel to be able to have a hot shower when he gets back from patrol.”

“So call Tommy, Els,” you resist her tugging. “I can’t fix it.”

Pouting, the young girl bats her eyelashes at you, putting on her best puppy dog face. “Please, please, please?”

After a few more seconds of her insistent begging, you cave in. “Fuck, fine. Just stop with the face. Promise you won’t skip school again and I’ll see what I can do?”

“Promise!” Ellie smiles in victory, holding out the worn owner’s manual to you.

You grab the dusty book from her before shouldering the door open, wandering into the room. It’s pitch black and you can’t seem to find the lightswitch.

“Els, where’s the light?” You ask, blinking to try to adjust to the lack of light.

“Don’t be mad, okay?” You hear the girl plead before the lights flicker on and the door slams shut, lock clicking.

A tired looking Joel sits in front of you, one hand handcuffed to the gas line of the water heater. You gape at him, part of you impressed that Ellie was able to get the one up on him.

But then the reality of the situation sets in and you start to bang on the door. “Ellie, open the damn door!”

“You can come out when the two of you work out whatever shit happened,” Ellie’s voice is muffled through the door but her message is loud and clear. A key slides in from under the door. “Unlock him if you want to.”

“Great, just great,” you mutter, forehead resting on the door. “Looks like we’re never going to get out of here.”

You can hear Ellie stomp up the basements and slam the door, off to do god knows what with both of her guardians locked in a room. Turning, you look to see Joel, his eyes watching your movements. You take in his appearance – right hand cuffed to the flimsy gas line of the water heater, left hand resting in his lap, both legs extended in front of him with crossed ankles. Under different circumstances, you would have laughed.

“Would you mind givin’ me that key?” Joel asks, motioning to the key resting on the ground by your feet.

Nodding, you kick the key to him, praising yourself that it slides within reach of him. You watch as he uncuffs himself, rubbing his skin where the cuff adored his wrist. Joel slowly stands, exhaling as he stretches himself up right. Once he’s upright, you take into account his bruised knuckles, undoubtedly from the other night.

The two of you are silent. The tension is palpable – too thick to cut with a knife, maybe even a chainsaw. You watch as Joel awkwardly shifts foot to foot. You can tell that he has a lot on his mind, but you aren’t sure if you want to know what he’s thinking.

You clear your throat, already regretting your next words. “Thank you, by the way.”

Joel nods, staying on his designated side of the small room. “I’d never just let that happen to you, y’know that.”

The awkward silence lasts a few more beats, neither of you know what to say to the other.

“You don’t have to avoid the house and town,” Joel breaks first, clearing his throat. “We can be friends, can’t we?”

“Speak for yourself,” you mutter, turning around to see if the door is actually locked. It is, to your dismay.

“Bug…” Joel starts but the nickname sets you off.

“Can you, like, not call me that?” You snap, whirling around to glare at him. “You lost any and all privilege to that the second you decided to use me for your own personal pleasure. Without regard to how I would feel, may I add?”

Joel scoffs, shaking his head, “I didn’t use you for my ‘own personal pleasure’.”

“Really?” Laughing, you feel insane with how worked up he has got you in one sentence. “Then what exactly did you mean by, and I quote, ‘pretend’.”

Joel opens his mouth to respond, but you cut him off.

“Or what about ‘I’m done with you’?” You step into his space, practically chest to chest. “Because being done with someone doesn’t really leave room for friendship, now does it?”

“That’s not what I meant, y’know that!”

“Do I, Joel? Because it doesn’t feel like it!” You can feel your hands shaking as you shove him back. “You are so hot and cold. You give me fucking whiplash. I can’t stand it! You–”

His lips press against yours, hands settling on your waist to keep you in place. You freeze, the feeling of his mouth moving against yours is a foreign after not feeling it for so long. You feel yourself melting into his arms, your own wrapping around his neck as you kiss him back, lips fusing together as if they were made for each other.

Until you realize what’s happening.

“What’s wrong, bug?” Joel whispers after you throw yourself back, chest heaving.

“You can’t just do that,” your voice shakes and you feel small under his gaze. “You can’t fuck with my feelings like this.”

Joel lets out an aggravated sigh, hands running through his curly locks. “I’m not tryin’ to, sweetheart.”

“Then what are you trying to do, Joel? Because I can’t do the back and forth.” You desperately try to blink away the tears pooling at your eyes. “One minute you want me, the next you don’t. I don’t know what you want from me.”

A tear slips down your cheek.

And all of Joel’s resolve breaks.

“Baby,” he breathes, hands cupping your cheeks as he thumbs away your tears. “I…shit, hold on.”

You wait. You wait as his eyes squeeze closed. As he inhales and exhales deeply. As he shakes his head before looking at you again.

“I love you,” Joel admits. “But I’m no good for you.”

“Joel–”

“Please,” he begs. “I can’t protect you, or Ellie. You saw what happened with the raiders at the university, I almost got the two of you killed because I’m not as young as I once was. I’m not a good man, bug, I’ve done so many bad things that I will never deserve someone like you, no matter what I do now.”

You listen to all of his reasons why he doesn’t think he deserves you. You watch the pain of his past hold him back from ever realizing how much he is worth.

“Is that why you did that?” You ask quietly, hands coming to rest on his chest. “You pushed me away because you think you’re too old for me? Too much of a burden on me?”

Joel nods, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“But, Joel, those are your reasons,” you breathe. “Your thoughts, your opinions. Not mine.”

He shakes his head. “But–”

“But nothing,” you interrupt. “I love you because of all of that. I love everything about you, your past included, Joel. There is nothing that you could do or say that could ever possibly change that. Why do you think I avoided you for weeks?”

“Because you hated me?”

“Because I couldn’t be around you thinking that I loved you when you hated me.” You laugh, leaning up to briefly press your lips against his. “Next time, how about you talk to me before you make all the decisions?”

Nodding, Joel leans forward and slots his lips against yours. You wrap your arms around his neck, locking your hands together. You feel Joel smile against your lips, a feeling you had missed, before pressing yourself as close to him as possible. Your kisses become more feverish, Joel backing you up against the door as his hands run down your sides to your hips. His hands snake around your waist, lowering themselves to your butt, groaning at the way you react to him.

A loud bang on the door startles the two of you apart.

“As much as I love that the two of you figured it out,” Ellie yells through the door. “I don’t want to hear those noises. Ever.”

A giggle escapes your lips as you hide your face in Joel’s neck, a smile spreads across your lips when you feel his arms encompass your waist.

“Are you decent? Can I let you out now?”

“Yes, Ellie.”

“Thank god,” Ellie unlocks and swings the door open. She smiles seeing the two of you wrapped up together. “I was beginning to think you’d never figure it out.”

Joel shakes his head. “Shut up.”

“You mean ‘you’re welcome’,” Ellie teases before escaping up the stairs, pausing at the top. “Just don’t suck each other's faces around me, got it?”

“Yes ma’am,” you salute her goodbye before turning back to Joel, who is pretending to look annoyed at the teen.

“By the way, how did she manage to handcuff you?”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel #the last of us #m writes

2K notes · View notes

hheaven-sentt · 8 months

Text

healing

summary: healing wounds you couldn't even see | leon kennedy x reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: yearning and pining, depictions of injuries and first aid, leon being weirdly chill, softness

notes: i like dis one | ao3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sense the knock before you hear it. You’re curled up on the couch, a few files spread out on the coffee table that you’d been pursuing for the last few hours. You’d grown bored with them, opting to stare out the window as the traffic down below on the street began to disperse and disappear. It was growing close to half past two in the morning. Which is why you almost expect the knock. It comes at exactly 2:18, and you practically jump off the couch to answer the door. Eagerness oozes from your skin.

He’s leaning against the wall, propped up with a single arm while the other cradles his stomach. With a sigh, he looks up at you, bright blue eyes looking a little more glassy than normal. A breath gets caught in your throat.

“Leon?” you ask, reaching forward to help him into the apartment. He grins up at you from his bent position.

“Sorry about the mess, sweetness,” he chokes out. He’s hurt, badly. You haul him into the apartment and set him up on the couch.

“I need you to count to ten and back out loud while I look for the first aid kit,” you say. He huffs a laugh. “I mean it, Leon. I need to know you’re still awake,”

Rolling his eyes, he says, “One,”

You smile as he continues counting, and begin your search for the kit. You find it just as he hits six for the second time, and you’re back in front of him as he reaches three. Crouching between his spread knees, you hoist the hem of his shirt up to see where the blood is seeping from. You grimace as you take in the injury. It’s a red and angry slash from his hip toward his sternum. You’re unsure of how deep.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” you ask, digging through the box for something to wipe away the excess blood with. He groans when you lay your hands on him the first time, and you have to remind yourself that he’s hurt and not enjoying this.

“Wasn’t paying attention,” he hisses between teeth. You’re threading the needle for his stitches. “Guess I should’ve been, huh?”

You shake your head. “You’re not reckless, Leon. What happened?”

He lets out a low whine as you sink the needle beneath his flesh. “Got distracted, thought I saw something I didn't,”

You know you won’t get a more direct answer out of Leon, so you don’t press for one. Instead, you continue sewing up his wound. “You see a medic, a doctor, anyone other than me?”

He laughs. “No, sweetness. No one’s as gentle as you,”

You try to fight the blush on your cheeks, and you’re thankful for the half dark room. He groans again as you tighten his freshly finished stitches. You spread an alcohol wipe across the suture, and you hear him let out a strained breath. Gingerly, you run your fingers over it.

“If it’s not better in two days, I order you to go to a real doctor and get antibiotics,” you say. “I can’t guarantee it won’t get infected,”

Slowly, he nods and lowers his shirt. You take the bloody part of it between your thumb and forefinger, contemplating on whether or not you should offer him another shirt. When you pull away your hand and see the transfer of red on the pads of your fingers, you frown.

“Need another shirt?” you ask. He grins. “I’m sure I’ve got something for you,”

You help him off the couch carefully, eyeing the way he favors his right leg. You draw your brows together, but don’t press him on the matter. Instead, you lead him to your bedroom where you force him to sit on your bed while you dig through your drawers for a shirt from a long forgotten boyfriend or something your brother left when he was last here. You find an old shirt you’d stolen from your dad at the bottom of a random drawer. It’s black and huge; when you wear it, it goes past your knees. It’ll do, you decide.

“Here,” you say, passing the shirt to him. He takes it. “You’re more than welcome to shower, but call for me if you can’t reach somewhere. Do not tear those stitches because I won’t redo them, Leon,”

Heat creeps up your neck as you say it, and you see the faintest amount of pink coloring Leon’s cheeks, but he nods and attempts to stand. It’s a slow process, but he does it on his own. As he passes you to head into the bathroom, he stops for a second, looking at you in the dim light illuminating half your face. He half smiles and takes your hand in his. He gives it a quick squeeze before dropping it, and then he goes to shower.

It’s more than a want, the feeling you have for him. It’s an odd sort of craving. An itch you long to scratch and tear away your flesh at. In any other story, he’d be the villain. He’s mysteriously beautiful, ethereal in his ways. In any other story, he would break you down to your barest essentials and make you pick the pieces back up. And maybe you’d let him. He’s someone you shouldn’t share your secrets with, someone you shouldn’t care about this deeply.

Maybe he’s still the villain in this story, your story. But he’d only be the villain to everyone except for you.

You hear the water running in the bathroom. You anxiously bite your nails, pacing the living room. After a few moments, you hear the bathroom door squeak open, and you busy yourself with something to look more natural. He emerges a second later, hair still dripping as he runs the towel over it. Something lurches in your stomach, a breath catches in your throat.

He lays the towel over the back of a dining table chair. There’s something unholy about the way you look at him, something sinful. You attempt to school your features.

“Alright, sweetness?” he asks, voice low timbred and honey sweetened. You feel it in your bones.

You nod, swallowing thickly. “Really worried about you,”

He smiles at this, that sort of half smile that only lifts one side of his mouth and crinkles the apple of his cheek. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll heal,”

“Hopefully,” you chide, matching his smile. He shrugs. “Seriously, Leon. You have to swear to me that you’ll get that checked out by someone actually qualified,”

He raises his hands in surrender. “I swear,”

He takes a seat on your couch, and you move to join him. There’s something sacred about the time you share here, between the four walls of your apartment and the dust accumulating on your shelves. His arm is slung across the back of the couch, inviting you into his space. The other hand fiddles with the hem of the shirt you’ve lent him. Without thinking, you seize his hand, examining the splits and cuts surrounding his knuckles. They’re beginning to heal on their own, crusted over with scabs and skin. You run a gentle brush over them, and he twitches as you sweep across the tender skin.

“Does it hurt?” you ask, looking up to meet his eyes. You see something in them that you can’t place.

“Yeah,” he says, watching you. Then, with a breath, “Nothing I can’t handle,”

You frown. “Maybe we should get you a desk job. Come to work with me,”

He laughs, a bright sound to counteract the dim room. “If you could make that happen, I’d take it,”

You wonder if he’s telling the truth. From what you understand, he’s been doing this for a long time, longer than you’ve known him, and you’re not sure he would walk away given the opportunity. You hope that he would, but you’re not confident that he’d give it up. You’re not sure he knows how to do anything else. He squeezes your hand, bringing you back to the present.

“Sorry that I only ever seem to show up when I’m half dead,” he whispers. He phrases it like a joke, but you know he means it. You wave a hand.

“I’m getting pretty good at patching you up,” you say. “Maybe I’ll run away and become an EMT,”

He smiles softly. “You’d be good at it,”

“Don’t know if I could handle all the blood,” you say, shrugging. “It’s different with you,”

Even when he’s fully healthy, you look at him like a fresh open wound. He’s something that should scare you, make you faint, but adrenaline kicks in and you need to fix it, need to mend.

“You should get some rest,” you whisper. His mouth sets into a line, but he nods.

“I take it I’m on light duty for the foreseeable future?” he asks. You roll your eyes and move away from him.

He says a hushed goodnight, and you disappear into the dark hallway. You hear him shuffle as he gets comfortable on your couch, and a weird sense of guilt washes over you. He’d deny you if you were to offer your bed to him, you know him well enough to scratch that idea before it’s even born. Instead, you allow him his ego, and settle between the sheets.

You’re surprised that he’s still here when you wake, even more so when you see him still asleep on the couch. The blanket is pulled up to his chin, his face bent inwards so that he’s almost in a fetal position. It makes warmth radiate in your chest and you smile. You resist the urge to join him.

He wakes while you’re making coffee. You hear him shuffle around, the creak of the couch as he moves to sit upright. He lets out a low groan. You halt your work on the coffee and rush to help him. He’s about halfway to sitting when you find him, grimacing against the pain and stretch of his stitches. Gently, you pull him into a sitting position, and he looks at you with something you can’t place.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say. He frowns. “You took a hard hit. You’re not going to heal overnight. I’m not magic,”

“I know,” he responds. You sit beside him. “Thanks for trying, though,”

You laugh. “Keep it up, and I won’t stitch you up next time,”

“We both know that’s not true,” he says, looking at you like you’re an angel. “I know you too well,”

You could kiss him, right here and now. You think, for a moment, that he might just reciprocate. Flush creeps up your neck at the thought, and you remember that he’s still looking at you.

“Where do you go?” he asks. You blink at him. “When you stare off like that. Where do you go?”

You shrug. “Just get lost in thought, I guess,”

He doesn’t pry further, just accepts the answer and remains silent. You can’t tell if you’re satisfied by that.

“What made you come here?” you ask quietly. He looks at you, studying your features. You wish you could snatch the words from where they linger in the air. Clearing your throat, you add, “The first time, I mean,”

He shrugs. “Figured you wouldn’t ask questions,”

He’d been right. You hadn’t asked questions. You’d tried to, thought about what you could possibly ask, but the idea was too daunting and he was bleeding out in your doorway. You’d hoped that stitches were as easy as they seemed.

“I’m good at keeping secrets,” you say. He smiles. “Can I share something?”

“Anything,”

“I’m glad you showed up that night. For a while, I was angry. Felt like I couldn’t wash my hands enough to scrub away the blood. But I’m glad you came,” you say, feeling short of breath. He’s staring at you, and you worry that you’ve said the wrong thing. You worry that he’ll get up and bolt. Instead, he brushes a few stray hairs from your eyes and smiles.

“If it’s any consolation,” he says. “I didn’t stick around for your stitching abilities,”

The apprehension wipes from your bones and you let out a laugh. “You’re so corny,” you say.

He rolls his eyes and kisses you like it’s something he does every day. It’s sweet and soft, plush against the jagged beat of your heart. It doesn’t last long, but you don’t need it to. You’re breathless anyway.

“What was that for?” you ask, starry eyed and far away.

He shrugs, as if this wasn’t the single most important thing you’ve ever experienced. “Figured it was making you anxious, so I got it out of the way,”

His cheeks are pink as you look at him. “What do we call this?”

“Healing,” he says, and kisses you again.

#leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #x reader #resident evil fanfic #leon kennedy #fanfic #m writes #my fics

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