#☾⋆⁺₊⋆ {ooc} out of this world | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

viperify · 14 days ago

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oneshots | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ X ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

☾₊⊹ To The Moon n’ Back.

Short Summary: This year you’ll spend another ordinary Valentine’s Day, all by yourself. Or that you think—until you receive a mysterious letter.

Warnings: 18+ only! soft impact play, brief fingering, semi-public sex, unprotected p in v, also this is kinda ooc!Tom bc how do I make this man engage in Valentine’s Day activities.

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day!!! 💋🩷

wordcount: 2,4k

Tom Riddle does not do love.

So why is it that every time you walk past him, his heart beats just a little bit faster?

He’s done everything to distract himself—drowning himself in books, studying more than what is usual, even for someone called Tom Riddle.

Yet, you never fail to leave his mind. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t seem to get the thought of you—specifically your lips on his—out of his mind.

By sweet Merlin, that’s the worst part of it all.

──

It’s Valentine’s Day.

Safe to say—you aren’t interested in a relationship.

So it shouldn’t bother you that all of your friends are out with their partner. But it does, your chest tightening at the thought of spending another night alone on a day that’s meant to be celebrated with your loved ones. It’s always been like this though, they’ve had their fun, and you—well, you stayed behind.

You decide to head to bed early. Right after dinner, which was awfully boring with none of your friends around, you make your way back to your dorm. Or try to, at least. Because as soon as you turn the corner, someone bumps into you.

Not just anyone—Tom Riddle. Head boy, former prefect, top student in every class, teacher’s favourite, award winner… you could go on like this for hours. There is probably nothing in this world that he hasn’t achieved—except for finding a Valentine’s date, it seems.

“I am sorry,” you mumble as you crouch down to pick up a piece of paper he has dropped. And it’s really not that you wanted to know what was written on it—it must have been the familiar number that caught your eye—the number of your dorm to be exact.

Though slightly taken aback, you hand him the paper—or better—he rips it from your hands. For a moment when his lips part slightly, you think he might want to say something in return—maybe apologize for bumping into you—but nothing ever comes.

So you leave, shooting him a weak smile.

It’s not like you expected an apology from him. He has his close circle of friends, all of whom are from renowned pureblood families. Even if you wanted him to like you, look at you the same way you’ve looked at him for years, it wouldn’t change a thing. Tom Riddle was unreachable. Any girl that has ever been interested in ended up getting rejected, and you wouldn’t be one of them.

Yet, the rich scent of his perfume lingers, the way his eyes flickered to your lips for a brief moment imprinted in your mind. His hands brushing over yours briefly, feeling his warmth, the warmth you’ve been craving to feel on your skin—

You shake your head. You’re interpreting too much into it.

──

Tom curses himself for almost blowing his cover.

After hours of contemplation, hours of sitting in front of a blank piece of parchment, he finally writes something down.

My dear—

He scoffs. Pathetic.

Scrunching up the paper, he discards it on the wooden floor of his dorm.

I hope this letter finds—

Definitely not.

Please meet me at the Astronomy Tower tonight at—

Please? Who is he to beg? You should be the one begging for— fuck.

Twenty crumpled-up pieces of parchment later, Tom’s had enough.

He opts for something shorter.

Astronomy Tower. 9pm. Don’t be late.

Perfect.

──

You are tucked under your duvet, putting the romance novel you had started on the nightstand. It was only 8pm, but with nothing else to do, sleep didn’t seem like the worst option. Soon enough, your eyelids flutter closed, and you drift off to sleep.

Though, it isn’t too long before a sharp knock on the glass of your window wakes you. It’s your owl, delivering a letter. Quite an unusual time for you to receive something, yet curiosity gets the better of you, and you open your window to get it.

No sender.

Reluctantly, you tear the envelope open, and your eyes skim over the words written on the parchment.

“Astronomy Tower. 9pm. Don’t be late.” You whisper, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. You don’t recognize the handwriting as anyone's you know, and as soon as you wipe over the words, the ink smears, vanishing, leaving you with an empty parchment.

At first, you are quite unsure whether to go. There’s no name on the letter, and especially on a day like today, there will be stricter enforcements of the curfew rules. Though, knowing yourself, you would have probably gone anyway. Even on a day like this, the moon and the stars are the only company you crave.

So you change, folding your PJs neatly on your bed, putting on the first skirt you find—though as soon as you step out of your dorm, you regret your decision. Tonight is cooler than usual, a soft breeze brushing past your skin, having you shiver. It’s too late to turn around, though. So you make your way, walking the route you normally take when you sneak out past curfew.

As you ascend the stairs to the tower, a figure leaning against the railing catches your attention. Only when you take a few steps closer do you recognize who it is. The brunette curls are unmistakably Tom’s, and for a moment your breath catches in your throat, halting your movements. Knowing that he is most likely on his patrol, you turn around to return to your dorm, but as you do just that, his voice stops you.

“You came.” He remarks quietly, without turning around.

It is him.

“You wanted to see me?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “Riddle, if this is some kind of—“

“Come closer.”

You walk forwards then, though reluctantly, and lean against the railing next to the brunette. It’s silent between the both of you for a while before he speaks up again.

“They fascinate you, don’t they?” He asks subtly, staring into the distance of the night sky. You follow his gaze, taking in the stars and moon on the otherwise pitch-black horizon. “You watch them each night when you can’t sleep.”

You turn your head then, looking at him briefly. You want to ask how he knows, yet you decide to keep it to yourself. Instead, you answer honestly.

“It’s a rare constant in my life. They help me calm down, especially after a long day.”

He gives you a soft nod in return, and silence returns between the both of you, left with owls howling in the distance. There’s still snow on the ground, and it must be below freezing temperature, because when another cool breeze brushes past you, you shiver, scrunching up into yourself.

“Why am I here, Riddle?”

Tom finally turns towards you then, a spark of something softer shimmering in his otherwise so strict chocolate-brown eyes, and he takes a measured step closer.

“You didn’t have any other plans tonight, did you?” He asks, in a way that’s implying he already knows the answer—because what does he not know—and you shake your head no.

“Then that is why.”

You part your lips to question him but are interrupted by his hand reluctantly reaching out, fingertips ghosting over your cheek, trying, testing, before his hand wanders to your neck. His thumb draws small, soft patterns on your jaw, and you tense slightly at the contact. He stops then momentarily, watching your softened expression, but when you don’t complain, he continues.

His gaze flicks to your lips, the air between the both of you growing thick with tension as he slowly leans in. Your surroundings fade into a blur, and before you know it, his lips are on yours.

Tom Riddle is kissing you.

The kiss isn’t what you’d expect of someone like him—it’s soft, tender, your lips moving in sync as his second hand rests on your lower back, pulling you closer.

Soon enough, he has you pressed against the railing, lips only parting from yours when a soft moan falls over your lips. A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, then he goes back to kissing you as his fingertips trail up the soft skin of your thighs, stopping at the hem of your skirt.

“Okay?” He murmurs, waiting for a verbal agreement before turning you around, adjusting your position with a firm grip on your waist. He bunches the skirt around your hips, delivering a soft smack to the round curve of your now exposed ass.

A soft whimper falls over your lips, and you slightly lurch forward at the contact, but he is quick to reposition you, pulling you back to him.

It is most likely the choice of your underwear that has him go silent, fingers softly tracing along the lace of your burgundy thong, though he is quick to rid you of the last piece of fabric covering your lower body. Tom makes you step out of it, crouching down to lift your leg. You only faintly notice that he puts it in his pocket, and time to complain is sparse because his hands are back on your exposed skin within a second, cutting off your thoughts.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispers, drawing a soft mewl from your lips, “even more so than I thought.”

Another gentle smack, and you feel his hand gently massaging your thighs before they wander up further. He doesn’t proceed—he waits, lingering there for just a moment.

“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart.” He instructs, his voice soft, and you obey, parting your thighs to allow him better access. A whimper escapes your lips when Tom fully presses himself against you, making you feel the problem you’ve caused him.

His hand leaves your thigh, traveling up until he reaches your already soaked heat, humming as his fingers swipe through your folds, collecting your arousal. One finger slips inside of you, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit, and you can’t help but buck your hips into his touch.

A second finger enters you, stretching, preparing you for him. You appreciate it—but all you want is to finally feel him.

“Riddle, please— I need you.”

His fingers withdraw then, hand wrapping around your throat instead, tilting your head backwards as you feel his hot breath ghosting over your ear.

“What’s my name?”

“Tom, God— please let me feel you, Tom.” You croak out, whimpering in defeat.

He lets you go then, the sound of him undoing his belt cutting through the night. “Good girl. Sounds so good when you say it.”

He casts a warming charm on you, a pleasant heat spreading through your body, and the next thing you feel is his tip nudging against your soaked entrance, slipping inside of you with a single, slow thrust. He groans when he’s inside of you completely—and it might be the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

He’s told you to stay quiet—though that order is quickly forgotten when he sets a steady rhythm, fingertips pressing hard enough into your skin to leave bruises. He stretches you perfectly, filling you completely with every snap of his hips, knuckles turning white from how hard you are gripping the railing. The sound of your skin colliding with each thrust fills the air, accompanied by your moans and whimpers and occasional low groans from the man behind you.

“Spread your legs a little further for me, love.” Tom breathes, hand slipping between your legs once more as you do. Again, he finds your sensitive bundle of nerves, rubbing the bud in slow, circular motions.

As your moans grow louder, walls clenching around him, he angles his thrusts slightly differently, his tip brushing over your most sensitive spots inside of you.

“Oh— Tom, don’t— don’t stop, fuck—“

His palm lands on your ass once more, but this time you arch your back into his touch, thighs trembling at the electrifying sensations shooting straight to your core.

With one of his hands on your waist, pulling you back into the sharp snaps of his hips, the other wraps around your throat again, pulling you flush against his chest. Like this he is able to reach even deeper, tip brushing against your cervix with every thrust, providing you with the perfect mix of pleasure and pain.

“Fuck— squeezing me so tight. That good?”

You only manage a nod in return, eyelids fluttering close as you near your climax, walls fluttering wildly around his invading length.

“Open your eyes and look at the sky when you come, darling.”

So you do.

With one last high-pitched moan, you tumble over the edge, hot, white pleasure rushing through your veins as your cunt clamps down around him, his hands on your hips as they stabilize you when your knees are about to give in.

Soon after, your mind still hazy with the aftereffects of your own orgasm, he empties himself inside of you with a low groan, hips stuttering as he is buried to the hilt, making sure you take all of him.

Both of you stay like this for a while, catching your breath. Only when the warming effects of the charm he casted on you wear off does he pull out of you slowly, drawing a soft whimper from your lips at the loss. He fixes your skirt for you, takes care of his appearance before his arm wraps around your waist, helping you stand upright.

“I will need that back,” you say, pointing to the lace half hanging out of his pocket.

He tucks it away completely then. “Don’t know what you are talking about.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes, leaning back against the railing.

A slight smirk plays at the corner of his lips but fades as he studies you in the faint glow of the moonlight, his expression turning more serious.

“Did so well for me,” he says after some time, voice soft again, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

You blink in confusion. Surely he didn’t—

“I wish you could see yourself the way you see the stars and the moon.” He goes on, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You are worthy of love.”

You shake your head. “Tom—“

Before you can protest, he presses his lips on yours, cutting off whatever words you were trying to form.

“I want you to teach me,” he exhales then, wrapping his coat around your shoulders, “how to love. Teach me how to love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

this was requested by my lovely @riddleswhcre 🩷 thank you so much for requesting baby!! you already know I am not particularly happy with how this turned out, but I hope it was still somewhat alright. <3

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captainheartcollector · 6 months ago

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Doubts

Alastor x Reader

A/N: Hello, everyone! Here is my first (and probably only since I’m not really a writer) attempt at an Alastor x Reader. I don’t know why, but I got inspired to write a scenario involving the day after having relations with Alastor the very first time. It doesn’t go into detail. Being on the ace spectrum myself, maybe this was just my way of coping with things. This was very self-indulgent. Story is all from Reader’s POV, whom I kept gender neutral. I’m sorry if Alastor is super ooc. I don’t have any clue on how to capture his personality. But I hope that you can enjoy the story nonetheless!

CW: suggestive themes, excessive use of pet names

Word Count: 1,144

Last night was the first time Alastor and you made love. Why he decided to be so generous, you couldn’t say. But you weren’t going to complain. When you awoke the following morning, you awoke to an empty bed. His spot beside you was cold. He had undoubtedly been up hours before you were. Realization set in. Did last night really happen? Was it a dream? No. The evidence riddled all over your aching body proved it. You eventually found the strength to sit up. Was he upset with you? Did he regret his decision to go all the way? Is that the reason he didn’t stay? You hadn’t pressured him, but you were the one who really wanted it after all.

Brushing those dangerous trepidations aside, you washed up and got ready for the day as usual. It was your day off, so you took things easy. However, you couldn’t help but notice that Alastor was nowhere to be seen within the hotel. Was he avoiding you? Surely, he was out on business, attending to his duties as an Overlord or brainstorming ideas for his next radio broadcast. Maybe he was just taking one of his daily strolls, chatting with Miss Rosie. Would he tell her?

Sure, Alastor was a schemer, but at this point, it felt far too late to start doubting him now. So, you tried your best to push those feelings away and keep yourself preoccupied, aiding as much as you could with the daily tasks around the hotel.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

It was hours before he finally returned. You glanced at the clock—it was nearly midnight. He sauntered through the front doors like all was right with the world. Once he detected your presence, he ambled across the lobby over to you smoothly. “Good evening, (y/n),” he chirped melodically with a flourish and a gleam in his eye. “I trust that you’ve caught up on your beauty sleep?” He sounded as pleasant as ever. So, you were clearly on speaking terms. Maybe that meant he wasn’t angry, or…

Despite your reservations, you couldn’t contain the eager smile creeping its way onto your face as you admired him. “Sure did,” you answered casually. “How was your outing today?”

“Frightfully illuminating, I must say. Thanks for asking!”

He acted like he was in a good mood. Therefore, you weren't going to sour it by prying further on the matter—especially when you could discern that he didn’t want you to. However, you needed to know the answers to the questions plaguing your mind. “Alastor,” you murmured, “do you think that we could talk…privately?” The last word was a whisper.

“Certainly, sweetheart.” That was easy. “Meet me in the library in ten.”

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

And that’s where the two of you were now—in a secluded, quiet corner of the library. You made sure no one else was around beforehand. Though why would there be at this hour. He sat next to you on the plush camelback sofa. You stared down at your hands which were fidgeting in your lap nervously as you spoke. “Alastor…you’re not upset with me, are you?”

He studied you silently for a moment before responding. You could never tell what was running through that demented head of his. Suddenly, he chimed, “Not at all, dearest. What reason would there be for that?”

Did he really not get it? Was he just pretending to be oblivious? Or was he truly unbothered by what happened?

“You know…Last night. You’re not mad?”

You felt his slender, clawed fingers cup your chin, forcing you to look at him directly. His smile was genuine and warm.

“Of course not, darling. It was consensual, was it not?”

“Yes, but I would never want you to do those things if they make you uncomfortable…or, if you just plain don’t want to.”

“I did want to. I wanted to because I knew you wanted to.”

What? That was so uncharacteristically thoughtful to hear him say. His thumb caressed your cheek in reassurance while his lidded gaze never faltered. It felt as though he was completely unperturbed.

“Wow…That’s so sweet of you, Alastor.” So sweet, you almost didn’t know how to process it. “But,” you interjected, “I want you to be able to enjoy it, too. Otherwise, I can’t—”

One of his fingers grazed over your lips, effectively shushing you.

He let out a low hum as if in brief contemplation before continuing. “I did enjoy it… More than I thought possible,” he admitted, seemingly in spite of himself.

You couldn’t fight back the hopeful smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “So…you don’t regret it?”

“Au contraire,” he beamed as he leaned in closer, mischief glinting in those gorgeous crimson eyes of his. “One could easily grow accustomed to seeing all those pretty faces you make while chanting my name more often.”

Immediately, an intense heat began to scald your cheeks as you hid your face in embarrassment, swatting him away playfully. “Don’t tease me!”

He chuckled heartily at your expense. “No sense in acting shy now, darling!”

“Ah, Alastor, stooop!”

His laughter continued briefly before he wiped a gleeful tear from his eye and conceded, “Very well.”

As soon as the silly little incident died down, you mustered the confidence to behold his eyes once more. He appeared absolutely pleased with himself. And yet again, you couldn’t help but return his contagious, everlasting smile. He was so beautiful—beyond just his face or form. You knew he was a menace, but there were beautiful aspects to his personality, too. Well, when he wanted there to be. Being able to make you smile—sincerely smile—was just one of them.

“Y’know,” you said finally, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between you, “I’m glad.”

Alastor’s toothy grin somehow grew even wider as he leaned down close to you like he had before. His hand crept along the back of your neck affectionately as he placed a tender kiss gently upon your forehead. Even after he carefully pulled away, his deft fingers continued to brush lightly through your hair and along your scalp. You could have melted right there and then.

“That’s wonderful news, (y/n.) Let’s try and keep it that way, shall we?”

You nodded in agreement as you happily slid into his arms, wrapping your own around his lithe frame, never taking for granted how freely and frequently he allowed you to touch him during these soft and confidential moments. “I love you,” you sighed contentedly, nuzzling against his chest.

However, it was his unexpected reply that left you feeling giddy for the rest of the night.

“I know, my dear. I am…quite fond of you, too.”

And that was enough for you.

#alastor #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor x you #alastor hazbin x reader #x reader #alastor imagine #radio demon #acespec

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witchnordemon · 3 months ago

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@frozenfischer

potential characters dynamics 2/???

#'random child that just shows up and wont eff off and becomes an ally because of it' Is that a trope. if it is its one of my faves #see; frisk. chara. isha. collector. luz.#'gdi why is that little kid spelunking around my backyard with their dog whoS NOT ON A LEASH a g a i n'#'ooooh and now they're using my garden hose to spray it down for a bath. aaaand now they're feeding it rocks'#☾⋆⁺₊⋆ {ooc} out of this world

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junimosity · 8 days ago

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｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆Frostbitten｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

pairing: Harvey x F!Reader

summary: amidst a nasty winter storm, Harvey has to make a home visit on his birthday when his car breaks down. he finds his way from the highway to your farm where you take him in and warm him up

w.c: 7.8k

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), mentions of alcohol, friends to lovers, harvey is yearning, fluff, poorly written smut, missionary, oral sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up y'all), harvey’s glasses stay ON, some ooc harvey (he literally just has rizz) bc its my first fic for him (pls be gentle), first fic i've written in years,

divider by @uzmacchiato

Winter was never gentle in the valley. From the dry, frigid bite of the Calico Desert, to the wet and miserable state of Pelican Town, the race to springtime never failed to feel sluggish. As a farmer though, however miserable the lack of daylight may be, this was the perfect time of year to sit back and relax. With just some simple hay rounds, minimal mucking, and nary a crop in the field, this was the only time of year you truly were able to decompress. The little work available kept you going, and the time off prevented the heat of burnout from a successful summer. So despite the slush, frozen soil, and seasonal affective disorder, you put on your mud boots every morning and made do with many layers and a smile on your face.

Usually done with winter chores by the late morning, it wasn’t unusual for you to spend most of your days in town itself. The walk from your grandfather’s home to the town square wasn’t always ideal with the weather, but you never stayed out too late, especially with the consistent storms.

Today was no different, snow falling gently into your home as you barged in just after your chores for the day. With wisps of cold damp hair stuck on your face over your mouth, you eagerly removed your hay covered layers and rubber thermal boots. Your body relaxed immediately as heat radiated from the fireplace just across the room. As comforting as it was, you wasted no time basking in the resplendence of the antiquated living room, instead opting to head straight for the shower, where your clothes for the remainder of the day waited.

Patiently and folded, as if intentional, your outfit glared at you from the counter. Not that you’d admit it to yourself, but it was definitely serving a purpose. With all the time in the world on your hands, you finally put an effort into your appearance when venturing into town. The few clothes that never saw the field made their way out of the depths of your closet and straight into Pierre’s, the library, or, most often, the saloon for two cups of coffee, followed by a trip to the clinic. The thought of the warm cup of java in your hands fuelled a quick bathing session, and before you knew it, you were right back out your door once again.

The nip at your nose was unnoticeable over the mile and a half into town, boots scuffing with divine purpose on the snow-packed cobblestones of the square. Everything had its usual pale glow about it, magical and quiet. The bright blue panelling of the clinic suited it beautifully, with a warm yellow light gleaming from the top floor. No clients today, you noted. Averting your eyes from your final stop, you scurried into the saloon, the bell ringing at noon sharp.

“There she is!” Gus laughed, a clean rag thrown over his shoulder. “Same as usual?”

“Farmer’s special, we decided, right?” Emily chirped from the other side of the bar, cleaning an already polished spot. Staying busy was just as hard everywhere else in the valley, it seemed.

“One for here,”

“And one to go!” Gus and Emily sang together, your head shaking with a light laugh as you shoveled out 600 gold for two cups of coffee. Emily made quick work of the drip machine, finished just on time for your punctual arrival. Gus took your money gladly before making himself busy with his rag, wiping at nothing on his pristine glasses. Emily brought your coffee over quickly, one in a ceramic diner mug, the other in a cardboard to-go cup with a little winter themed thermal sleeve. You chuckled at it as you picked up the mug, bringing it to your face, finally thawing the redness on your nose.

“Is he expecting you today?” Emily asked, learning over the bar with crossed arms. “Or is this more of a walk-in appointment?”

“Hilarious, really,” you smiled into your cup.

“Yer lucky it’s cold out, sweetheart. Gives you an excuse for all that flushing.” Gus said over his shoulder. “Can feel those cheeks from over here.”

“That’s just your lunch special burning, Gus,” Emily laughed. Gus let out a little yelp before darting back into the kitchen, a few expletives following faintly behind.

“What would he do without you?” You asked, relaxing a bit as you heated back up.

“You just got a preview,” Emily sighed. “So, you didn’t answer my question.”

“Ah,” you placed down your cup, looking down into the black coffee, steam obscuring your reflection. “Walk-in, I suppose.”

“Flu season, right?” Emily winked. “Joking aside, I know he appreciates it. On the days he can actually get himself here for a cup, he’s usually past the point of exhaustion.”

“I hope that rings true today. He didn’t seem to have anyone in the clinic when I passed by.”

“All the better, if you’re not interrupting anything.” Emily pushed herself up, arms extending over the bar. “It’s his birthday, so you better not let it get cold.”

With that and a couple large swigs of your own cup, you headed right back out into the cold with the extra coffee in hand. No time to waste building up courage, you headed around the corner, and straight into the clinic.

The bell rang out, echoing off of the walls of the empty foyer. Not even Maru was in today.

You pushed the swinging doors back into the hall, eyeing the stairway that led up to that warm yellow glow you saw outside. You could hear it, faintly; his little bookshelf radio playing some seasonal jazz. Clinic tile turning into hardwood at his door, you knocked three times rhythmically, opening it yourself after the third.

“Harvey?” you called out, peeking into the studio apartment filled with low light. “I brought you some coffee-”

“Oh, thank yoba-” the familiar voice called, just as incandescent and cozy as his apartment. “Please, come in!”

You shuffled in slowly, closing the door behind you softly and peeling off your rubber boots once again so as not to ruin his floors. It was hard to attempt being delicate, but you couldn’t fathom being a disrespectful guest. Especially not for him.

And there he was, turning around the corner from his kitchen, where most of the light was coming from. His hair was shaggy today; disgruntled. His tie was half done, and two mismatched socks sat scrunched around his ankles.

“Y/N, you must be freezing!”

“I warmed up a fair bit at the stardrop, but thank you for your concern.” You responded politely.

“I should be thanking you!” Harvey walked hastily to his sofa, almost stubbing his toe on it. There laid a briefcase, papers and minor medical supplies strewn about. “I’ve got a last second countryside home call halfway to Calico. Pneumonia, it seems. I have to be there before dark but my stuff is all-”

“Hey, chill out!” You soothed, finally moving into the apartment. You handed Harvey the cup of coffee and pushed him aside, taking his files into your hands and straightening them out. “You go and warm up your car, and take that with you. I’ll get this sorted and you’ll be out of here in five.”

“But what about-”

“No buts, and change your socks!”

“Okay…” he submitted, heading right for the door.

“Keys, Harvey,”

“Right!”

He ran down the stairs of the clinic without hesitation, grabbing his keys off the wall in a rush. You smiled to yourself, happy you could get to him just before he made a mess of a stressful day. It was the exact reason you kept coming back. You loved to give him a hand, even with something minor. He always accepted it with open arms, though he’d never ask. It had become quite the routine.

Assorting his files quickly, you packed his briefcase tight, placing it by his boots that he’d run down without.

“Right, socks,” you said aloud, eyeing the pile of clean laundry on the chair next to his aerial radio station. It seemed he was perhaps the only person in town being kept busy. Grabbing a pair that you could notice easily, you stood by the window, looking down to see Harvey scrambling to scrape the ice off his windshield. With the socks already in hand, you grabbed his briefcase, coat, and boots, heading downstairs behind him.

“Need another hand?” You laughed, putting his belongings in the passenger seat.

“Darned defrost isn’t heating up," Harvey grunted as he scraped at the ice. “Could you spray some wiper fluid?”

“Sure thing,” you respond, reaching into his old sedan to spray the windshield. “It’ll take a minute to work.”

Harvey sighed shakily, forgetting his frosty situation. You threw his jacket at him from across the top of his car, watching him fumble and grab it.

“Seriously, thank you, Y/N,” he relaxed a bit, coming around his car to grab his new socks and boots. “You seem to always show up at the right time.”

“Winter gives me the time to do that, y’know. Just the season for it.”

“Sure,” Harvey replied as he changed out his footwear in the passenger seat. “It must be nice to not feel rushed in this kind of weather.”

“It’s a plus, for sure.” You sighed, leaning against his finally defrosting car. “You make sure to drive slow, even if you’re in a rush. Here,” you pulled him out of the car once he was laced up, straightening out his jacket and grabbing his tie. “Can’t care for others without caring for yourself, y’know.”

“You’re right. I’ve been extra clumsy lately.” Harvey admitted as you tightened his neckwear. You flattened it out, patting his chest, locking eyes with him for a quick, quiet second. Thank Yoba Gus was right, you did have an excuse to be so red. Reaching around your neck, you pulled off your velvet scarf, throwing it over his head.

“Just get some safely. I’ll see you around.”

“Thanks again, Y/N.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

You stepped aside, letting him move back to the driver's side before he took off, the wipers removing the now slush from his windshield. You smiled as he drove towards the bus stop and away from town, heeding your advice. Looking further up into the valley, and the mountains, your smile dropped a bit. That was one hell of a storm coming in. Your mind moved quickly to your animals, and you raced back home to get them settled for a rough night.

Ruminants tucked in, poultry packed tight, the farm was ready for the wintry tempest that billowed through in the early evening. You’d made it back just in time to take some extra steps in ensuring the insulation of the coops and barn, and without any worry on your mind, you were making yourself busy at home.

Well, without much worry. You hadn’t heard from Harvey since he’d set out into the valley towards the storm. It's not like he was obligated to; you were only there to lend a hand now and then. You hadn’t even asked him to reach out. Instead, you made yourself an evening of tasks; clean the farmhouse, do the laundry, open some of the blueberry wine you’d been aging in your cellar. Surely that would do a great job at taking your mind off of Harvey and his dangerous day-trip.

Night pressed on, and the storm furthered its temper. You couldn’t even see your barn’s light through your window, let alone the field beyond it. Still, you looked onto the path outside your door, as far as you could before the blizzard blurred its image. The howling wind did nothing to settle your stew and wine filled stomach, but you removed yourself from the window sill regardless. Just as you peeled back, however, you could’ve sworn you saw a figure within the flurry. Looking out once again, you could definitely see movement. Fearing the worst for the structural integrity of your barn, you grabbed your jacket and boots and threw open the door, walking slowly towards the movement in order not to scare off one of your animals. If they’d escaped in this storm, surely they’d be flighty.

As you walked further out, however, your vision became clearer. Animal turned to figure, and - that was no cow.

Walking slowly, trudging through the snow towards your home, was Harvey.

“Oh my Yoba!” you yelled, voice distorted by the violent winds. “Harvey, what the hell are you doing out here?”

You raced towards him, his hands wrapped around himself as he moved ever so slowly against the wind. You grabbed his side and guided him to your porch. He was soaking wet, his jacket and hair frozen, nose redder than a ripe salmonberry. Shivering and unresponsive, you lugged him inside your house and immediately grabbed his shoulders.

“Hey! Are you okay?” You yelled, making him look at you in the eyes. He nodded his head with a shiver, and you relaxed your shoulders slightly.

“J-jacket…” He shook, straightening his arms out at his sides in an attempt to get the ice encrusted coat off.

“Oh, yeah!” You walked behind him, shimmying the frozen fabric down. Even his shirt was wet and cold. “Harvey, what the hell happened?”

“Car… broke down… exit before the bus stop.” He sputtered, kicking off his soaked boots.

“Shit! Did you walk here?”

“Hmm…”

“Oh my god, that’s at least a mile from here…” You put your hand over your mouth, getting a better look at him. His shaking hands were reminiscent of a wild plum, tightened fists at his side. You stared at him - deer in headlights. This was significantly past what you were used to aiding him in. He was the one with the knowledge here, all of what to do was inside his icy mind. You took his frozen fists in hand, and with a furrowed brow met his daze. “Tell me what to do.”

“Clothes… warm…”

“Okay, I'll get you some warm clothes. Follow me,” you led him into your bedroom, stopping at your dresser. “Here’s some flannel pajamas - that's all I have for you. Towels are in the bathroom just right there - there are blankets by the fire in the living room when you’re done. I’ll put on some tea or something.”

“Th-thank you.”

“You can thank me when you’re warm,” you added sincerely, heading back into the living room.

In a daze of your own, you stepped out the front door, grabbing some wood from the shelter on your porch. Breath shaky and grip firm, you hoisted it under your arm and inhaled deeply. This was not how you expected his first night at your house to go. Then again, your first at his was after a brutal serpent attack in calico. How he found you, you hadn’t a clue, but you weren’t expecting to wake up in the clinic with a broken ankle and a concussion. This was far less of a professional experience, but there was no getting to the clinic in this blizzard.

Kicking the door open with your foot, you lugged in the extra wood, letting it fall from your grip by the strewn boots before kicking your own back off. You picked Harvey’s up, unlacing them as you walked back towards the fire to stuff them with some newspaper. You placed them a fair distance from the flames before heading to your bedroom. Harvey was in your bathroom still, and you approached with a knock.

“Are you okay in there?”

“Hmm,” Harvey called, the doorknob rattling as he let himself out. The large blue pajamas fit him perfectly, well, would, if he could’ve buttoned them up evenly. His hands, only a deep pink now, were still shaking as he tried to give you a thumbs up. You offered him a half smile of relief before reaching behind him, grabbing the towel he evidently neglected. You threw it over his head, rubbing it on his hair before bringing it back down to sit on his shoulders. His glasses skewed, and a little steamy, he let loose a small laugh. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

“Mhmm,” you responded, a soft smile on your lips contrary to the concern on your brow. “Let’s get your clothes washed. You should go sit by the fire.”

“Alright,” Harvey weakly breathed, grabbing at his soaking clothes from your sink.

“Uh uh, enough of that,” you patted at his cold hands. “You sit by the fire. You’ve done enough to help around today.”

“I could say the same of you,” he countered, although submitting to your efforts to grab his clothes away.

“I didn’t drive through a record breaking snow storm to ‘lend a hand’. Please, give yourself credit.” You continued as you turned around, Harvey following closely behind. You lead him back out into the living room, crossing into your kitchen and throwing the clothes into your washing machine. “Go sit!”

“You have a nice home,” He began, staring around half tired into your house.

“Harvey,” you sighed as you fumbled with the detergent and buttons. “You can admire all you want by the fire.”

Harvey hummed in response, shuffling towards the fireplace.

“Can I get you anything, warm water? Tea?”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” he began to decline out of politeness, putting his hands by the fire.

“Wine?’

“Wine, please.”

You chuckled and grabbed a glass, relaxing a bit as he knelt by the hearth.

The sound of crackling wood took over as you brought the glass to Harvey, sitting next to him on the persian rug. You grabbed your own from the coffee table behind you and poured both glasses generously.

“I’m sorry your birthday’s been rough.”

Harvey’s back straightened slightly, pausing as he was about to take his first sip.

“I didn’t know you knew,” he breathed, facing the fire again. “I appreciate it,”

“Of course I knew, I’ve brought you coffee every year since I moved in.” You immediately took a much more generous gulp of your own glass as you heard yourself speak.

“Y-Yes! I guess so. I don’t know why I thought otherwise…” He fumbled with his words, readjusting his grip on the stemware a few times.

“Don’t sweat it, please,” you turned to him on one knee, “Are you feeling alright now?”

“Yeah, just fine, actually. Thank you,” he laid back on one arm, shakiness subsided with the sip of courage. “Yoba, I didn’t know if I was gonna make it. Or if you were awake, or if you were gonna come out with a shotgun-”

“A shotgun?” you guffawed, smile brightening. “Do I seem like that kind of farmer?”

“You’ve got a vague unregistered firearm aura to you,” Harvey jested with a smooth demeanour you only got to see ever so often. Usually after a glass of wine or two at the stardrop alongside Elliot or Maru, but rarely on your own.

“Do I really?” You played along, bringing your knees up to your chest as you faced him fully. “A healthy bit of ‘get off my property’?”

“As your doctor, yes, just the right amount.”

“Hmm,” you sang into your next sip of wine. “I guess I’m doing alright then.”

“Perfect.” Harvey responded quickly, taking his next swill. Your eyes caught as he said it, breaking away swiftly to look in the fire together. Cracking resumed, the burgundy walls closing in as you felt your face grow even warmer.

“You made the right call coming here. I don’t know what I-” you caught yourself, feigning a cough. “Yeah, you did the right thing.”

“Are you okay?” Harvey leaned forward, placing his glass on the table.

“Yeah, it’s just something caught in my throat.”

“Are you sure?” He moved quickly, one hand removing your wine glass and the other gently landing on the small of your back. After setting the glass down, he placed the back of his hand against your forehead, his brow furrowing. He moved it down to your cheek, plump and reddened by-

“I can’t tell if it’s the fire, but you don’t seem too bad. You didn’t overdo it today, did you?”

You couldn't respond soundly until he leaned back, your knees brushing one another.

“No,” you choked, “just some plain old winter chores. It’s probably just the fire.”

“Should we move to the couch?” He reached out his hand, beginning to stand.

“If you’re warm enough,” you grasped it and joined him, getting another glimpse of his mismatched buttons. With significantly less concern than earlier, you let out a stifled giggle, pointing to his torso. He looked down and gave a breathy laugh, shaking his head while tackling the befuddled buttons. You plopped yourself onto the couch as he walked over, taking his time with the task. He stood in front of you, undoing and redoing them one by one. Your breath hitched as you looked up at him, eyelids lazily pondering his busy hands. You reached for your wine promptly as he sat down, abandoning the bottom button in defeat and laying his hands across his stomach.

Harvey rolled his head back, letting it rest on the top of your couch with his eyes closed. You allowed yourself, just this once, to take him in. Jawline alight by your fire, auburn hair tousled against your sofa, broad shoulders beneath your pajamas. How many times had you wished for this exact situation? Imagining it seemed so impossible then; something in your mind wouldn’t let you quite grasp the unrefined details. It was hard not to imagine his green suit jacket and the pens in its pocket when you would daydream. You always wondered what he appeared like without his mustache trimmed or his shirt tucked in. Here he was in all his unkempt glory; you could feel your own heartbeat against your neck. This allure, the one you’d felt since your first appointment those years ago, felt unlike any attraction you’d had before. Maybe it was the professional relationship or the fact that he took very good care of his mustache, but something about the way you felt towards him seemed so grown. Evolved past anything you knew of desire, a tenderness so new yet intrinsically old. The way you brought him coffee on Sundays and Mondays like clockwork, it was as natural as your frontal lobe forming.

“(Y/N)?” Harvey snapped you out of your stupor, only his head facing you, the slightest of contortions between his brows. His lips parted ever so slightly as he awaited your response, firelit hazel eyes subtly squinting as they scanned yours. All you could do was pull your leg onto the cushion and rest your weight into the back of the couch while offering him an earnest, relieved smile. He returned it, chin slightly elevating in approval of your beam.

You stayed that way for a while, just gazing at one another, unable to say a word, until you let out a long sigh and once again placed your wine down.

“You must be exhausted. I have a guest room upstairs. The bed’s made, I can show you to it if you’d like.”

“I’m not quite, if you aren’t,” Harvey stopped you, hand reaching yours in an attempt to ease. “I, uh, want to make sure you aren’t sick.”

“I’m supposed to say that about you,” you smiled, eyes catching the jukebox in the corner of your living room. “Music?”

“What have you got?”

You made quick work of standing, stepping past Harvey’s legs to the corner on the right of the hearth, stopping to pull him along with you. It lit up as you approached, a bright yellow from beneath the two of you.

“Let’s see, it’s a lot of older things, as these usually are… you like jazz, right? I’ve got Charles Mingus, Chet Baker,”

“How’d you know that?” Harvey asked calmly, taking his eyes off the flipping records to observe you. You straightened your spine as you looked down, flipping through the genre.

“It’s always playing on your radio when I come by-”

“On Sundays. Yeah, it is.” He finished with you, adding his gentle affirmation. “Any Wes Montgomery?”

“Solo or Trio?” You softly asked, flipping to the options.

“Trio.”

“ ‘Round Midnight it is.” You selected the song, watching the machine place it on its side and begin the track.

Gentle guitar began playing amongst the fuzzy static of the old record, both you and Harvey taking a step back to gauge each other's reactions. You were searching him for an inch of affirmation, as if he hadn’t just given it to you. Something in his perspective shifted; he was scanning you with much more curiosity than on the couch. Well, maybe not curiosity. He knew you, and you knew that. It seemed more like he was acknowledging something.

“You sure know me.” He huffed, a relaxed grin spreading from beneath his well trimmed mustache.

“I like to think we’re, ah,” you caught yourself, suddenly aware of your choice of words. “Well acquainted by now.”

“Well acquainted?” Harvey quirked a brow and slid his hands to find the back pockets of your spare pajamas. “I would say so, yes.”

“You, uh, you missed a button,” you gestured to the base of his torso, a small sliver of skin with a trail of dark hair atop it peaking through the unbuttoned portion of the flannel set.

“Ah, I couldn’t quite-” Harvey lifted it up slightly, his very apparent happy trail greeting you in the combined glow of jukebox and fire. Your eyes widened in a flash before you jolted forward, grasping at his shirt to prevent him from pulling it to a territory from whence you’d lose composure. He broke his own hands away as you grasped the shirt firmly, staring up at him with a fierce embarrassment.

“Um, here,” you offered with a pathetic attempt to play it cool. You let go of the fabric and instead held the button, a loose thread wrapped around it connecting it to the one above. “I see.” You gently unwound it from the thread, looking up through your lashes to find Harvey staring down at you, an even greater part in his mouth. You almost pouted, focusing a little harder on the thread. In your periphery, you could see his hands floating just an inch from your sides, fingers almost brushing up against you. The thread gave way and you stepped back, standing up straight to see Harvey take a deep breath. Was this really happening?

“I’ll go grab some scissors to cut the thread,” you stated robotically before darting up to your craft room, leaving your doctor in your flushed wake.

Harvey was aghast at his lack of action. Pressing his fingers on the bridge of his nose, he turned back to your sofa, grabbing his glass of wine and topping it off before drinking it whole and filling it again. You ran out; darted, even. You took him in, warmed him up, served him his favorite drink and played one of his favorite songs; and then, you ran out. But before all that, you came outside. You found him, you met him out there before you even knew he was there. Yoba, you were clever. Unbelievably intuitive. What he had in booksmarts he lacked in your charisma and instinct. And by some stroke of faith, or maybe just your discernment, you found him just before he collapsed. He’d just managed to run you off.

His hand slipped down to wipe the wine off of his mustache as his gaze followed your steps to the dark stairway to the left of the hearth. He could hear you going through drawers and taking short steps. It was only a matter of time before you’d be back.

“Casual, cool,” Harvey muttered to himself, spreading his arms along the back of the couch and trying to kick up a foot onto his other knee. Emphasis on trying, as he knocked the table with his foot, causing your near empty glass to tumble over. He cursed to himself, wiping at it with the towel he’d forgotten on the couch before scrambling to fill it back up to the same amount as before, superseding it greatly just as you walked back into the room.

“I thought I’d go ahead and fix the button so the loose thread doesn’t just make it fall off- oh, thank you!” you chirped as Harvey poured your glass almost to the brim. Placing your sewing things down to take a sip, he handed the glass to you as if it were all part of his master plan.

“I just need to tie it off and cut it, really. No need to take it off.” You added quickly, a twinge in your brow Harvey couldn’t really identify.

“Okay,” he complied, holding the shirt out a little as you sat yourself on the coffee table to face him. “Is this alright?”

“Perfect,” you spread your legs beside his to get a little lower, resting your arms on your thighs. “Maybe come a little towards me.”

He scooted forward, his knee brushing your inner thigh. You didn’t budge, instead threading a needle you’d brought down and tying it off. You fed it through the buttonhole a few times before tying it around itself and grabbing the small scissors behind you, snipping it cleanly.

“Good as new.” You leaned back, smiling at him with closed eyes.

“That was fast,” Harvey noted, shrinking a little to get a closer look at the button.

“Had to make a repair or two in my time. Why don’t you keep those? I never wear them, really.”

“I- ah, sure, thank you!”

And there you were, sitting before him, almost in his lap. You turned around with your torso to grab your glass and his, handing it to him with a smile.

“To your birthday.”

“And my well acquainted.”

Your eyebrows raised as your glasses clinked; and you both sipped, eye contact unwavering.

Yoba, you were beautiful. Divinely backlit by the fire you created, keeping him warm in more ways than one. Your head tilted, letting some of the light shine through, reflecting off his glasses and back onto you.

“You’re something, you know?” Harvey stated, a little quieter than before. He watched your head flick back upwards, the light leaving his lens and showing you clearer.

The wine was settling in.

“Tell me about the coffee.”

“Oh, yeah,” you responded, looking down at your glass.This really was happening. “I was having a coffee at Gus’s when he wanted to finish a pot off, and he gave me two cups. I’d heard from him that you were his only other regular customer for coffee, so I thought I’d stop by.”

“And he just happened to need to finish a pot every time?” Harvey questioned further, leaning a little further back on the couch.

“Well, not exactly. But it seemed like that was a good time to drop in that day, so it worked out with my schedule…” You pushed on, leaning forward as you tried to explain.

“What a coincidence…” Harvey laughed light heartedly.

“What do you mean?” you feigned. “I mean it, it really did work out, and it was nice that I had someone to share it with.”

“I mean, what a coincidence that I happened to clear my schedule out after that.” Harvey stopped you, holding up his glass. He leaned forward, brushing past you as he placed it down and far out of reach. “At that time, each Sunday and Monday.” He pulled back, face coming awfully close to yours.

Your lips parted as you realized it; he’d been putting just as much intention into your visits as you had. Looked forward to it, ensured it.

“1:30 in the afternoon,” you finished, eyelids faltering. “Harvey…”

He’d had enough.

Years in the making of coffee and music, conversations that felt so effortless, yet he’d never even questioned if you were in it the way he was. It was never a possibility. He’d figured you’d been making friends that way- he’d seen you offering daffodils to Caroline and your forageables to Linus, even gemstones to Emily when he’d sit with you at the stardrop. You seemed to just know these things about people, where they were and when, what they liked and disliked. He never figured for a moment that you had any ulterior emotions attached, let alone for him. He was your doctor.

The doctor you saw at least twice a week by coming to his doorstep with one of his favorite things and spending an entire afternoon with him.

He took your glass and placed it near his, far, far away from where you sat. He brought his attention back to your hands, looking down at them from where your foreheads nearly grazed.

“Your hands get so soft in the winter,” he whispered, tracing a finger over where he knew your calluses to usually be. “I remember the calluses you had when you first brought me a cup.”

Your breath hitched as you remembered the day; a warm monday in your first summer after you’d finished harvesting. The calluses probably hadn’t even formed fully by then.

“They were more like blisters. You told me not to give you anything because you needed to build up the strength in your skin.”

“You looked mortified when I said it.” You added, relaxing your hands as he gently caressed his finger pads into your palm. He remembered exactly where they were.

“Five ounces of over-the-counter Bacitracin. Didn’t let you leave without it.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Harvey slid his knee outwards, opening your legs a little more, making you sit up a little straighter and further forward. He sat straight as well, intertwining his fingers with yours. You could feel his breath on you, hitting your jawline and creeping down your neck. Looking up from your hands, you found him with a heavy lid and a little concern. He scanned quickly from your eyes to your lips, and when his gaze found them, it cemented.

“Can I kiss you?”

You didn’t respond, opting to instead press forward, placing the gentlest kiss you’ve ever given upon his lips. You took a moment, furrowing your brow before leaning back and gauging his response.

His glasses were fogged, cheeks alight, lips slightly parted. Right where you’d always wanted him.

Caution thrown to the wind, he leaned in towards you, letting out a soft moan as he kissed you with more fervor, releasing your hands and softly placing one behind your head and the other on your back, leading you up and onto him. You left the table and allowed your weight to fall on his thighs, the two of you gliding onto the back of the couch. He controlled your movements as he opened his mouth and slid his tongue over your bottom lip. You gave in without hesitation and placed your arms on his chest for support. It was so much firmer than his usual clothing led you to believe, acting as a solid wall for you to paw at.

Your movements turned animalistic as his hands began to explore your upper body, up your back and down your arms, through your hair and on your jawline. Your kisses grew more frantic as he found and matched your pace, bodies beginning to ebb and flow like the gusts of snowy wind outside your front door.

“Harvey,” you beckoned against him, hips greeting him, both exuding more warmth than the fire behind you.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he cooed, his thumb finding solace on your jaw. “I’m yours.”

His kisses left your mouth, trailing to where his hand was, placing tender messages of affection on your jaw and neck, breathing in deeply where he could feel your pulse beneath his lips. You whimpered as he burrowed his face into you and arched your back, torso pressing up against the blue flannel.

You smelt of the fire and the same detergent he could smell on his clothes. His regular clothes would soon smell like you, too. Harvey’s grip on your waist tightened at the thought of carrying it home with him.

“Please,” you breathed into the open space above you. Your hands found his hair, gently pulling his head back to look up at you. “I-”

You were at a loss for words at his crooked glasses covering those lust-filled eyes.

“I need you,” you hummed, his head turning to place a kiss into your palm.

“As you wish.”

Your lips met again as your hands fell down to the buttons you knew so well, making clumsy work to undo them and expose his well haired chest. He found the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head and discarding it somewhere behind him. You both found your breath as your bare chests faced one another. You were already in your sleepwear, bra long since in your laundry hamper, nipples perking at the exposure to the dry air inside your home. Harvey didn’t question it for a moment, his hands sliding up your sides to place themselves atop your breasts. He found your neck again and you leant into him as he massaged you, his muscles memorizing the feeling of you against him.

Beneath you, Harvey was already rigid, the feeling making you groan back into the air. Your hips dug down, the weight of you grinding against his solidity with a slow and intentional tug. He let out a guttural groan, the rumble sending a shiver down your spine that made your nipples stiffen further and your core radiate with a wet warmth. His hands left your chest and slid down the small of your back, ducking underneath the hem of your sweatpants and tugging them down. You eased your ministrations and let him bring them as far down as he could before you realized you couldn’t from where you sat.

“Fuck,” he whispered, the first proper expletive you’d heard from him. In a swift motion, he guided you onto your back beside him, towering over you as he worked your pants the rest of the way. His chest heaved at the sight of you bare beneath him, bringing his hands over your thighs. “Are you sure you want this?”

You couldn’t stomach a response at this change in demeanor from him. He’d never so much as commanded a patient, needing your help at times to place firmer instruction on his most stubborn clients. But he truly was towering over you, his pants pulled slightly down from the sudden change of positions. The happy trail you so deftly noted before darkened greatly, thickening into a bush above his- you nodded very quickly.

He relaxed his shoulders, situating himself lower and lower until he found himself level with your warmth. He looked up to you with a gaze of one more question of consent, but your permissive nodding and lazy smile sent his focus back into you. Hands cascading beneath your thighs, he worked them up gently and placed them over his shoulders before situating one arm over your pelvis. He placed a supple kiss to your inner thigh and trailed to your lower lips before finding your clit.

“Yoba,” he whispered against your most sensitive place, kissing it once, twice, thrice before licking from your entrance up to the nub.

“Oh, Harvey,” you whined, head falling back into the armrest. He furthered, making soft sounds of moisture sing above the fire. He licked firmly without the need for searching, as if he knew exactly where you needed him. Licking turned to sucking, and his free hand found its way beneath his mouth, a warm finger brushing against your folds in pursuit of your entrance. He circled it softly before testing the warm spring waters, wading inside you. His tongue quickened as he felt your hips try to move. He held you down over your pelvis, and you groaned out louder than before. His finger curled gently inside you, massaging the tender spot that truly yearned for his touch. He could feel you clench over him, sending in a partner finger to further your divine stimulation.

Yoba, you were soaking. He moved his fingers with ease against your pulsating walls, tongue ravaging your clit until you let out a whine he hadn’t been able to imagine, not even in his dreams. You found your climax, riding as much as you could onto his fingers and tongue, squirming up against his nose.

“Good girl,” he hummed against you as you clenched uncontrollably onto his fingers. Your chest rose and fell as the electricity wound its way through you, hands loosening their grip on the upholstery.

You rose your head, eyes foggy as you found him kissing your thighs once again. You didn’t have to ask as he sat up, working himself out of his pants and letting loose what you really wanted, his hardness springing up against his chest. Bringing your thighs up, he positioned himself in front of you, thighs meeting yours as he laid himself above your puffy pussy. Something inside him shifted, though. You could see it as he fixed his glasses and caressed your thigh.

You adjusted your arms behind you, lifting your torso to meet him halfway.

“Harvey?” you asked softly. He breathed for a moment as he held your gaze, licking you off of his lower lip.

“I don’t want to push you,” he spoke, running his thumb up and down from his grip over your leg. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Your head relaxed to the side as you admired him, still so nurturing in his relations.

“You couldn’t if you tried.” You reached for him, pulling him down for a soft kiss before whispering against him. “I want this, if you want this. I want you. ”

He kissed you again, a smile breaking across his unsure expression. You held his gaze as you reached down to his cock, sliding it over your wetness before guiding it to your wanting entrance. He shuddered mildly at the feeling, eyelids fluttering and lips parting in awe. You let go of him and reached for his cheek, placing it there for reassurance. Without a break in your shared gaze, he pushed in slowly, both of your mouths reacting to the feeling of him filling you. He pulled out partially before sheathing fully again, breaking a hum out of your mouth as he found himself brushing up against the spot his fingers found.

“I-” Harvey’s breath hitched as his brows fluttered upwards. He was hesitating again.

“Don’t hold back, baby,” you cooed. The pet name sent his hips against yours, awakening him like a sleeper agent. “Oh, fuck,” your head fell back.

Harvey set a pace quickly, thrusting into you with zeal as you leaned back on your arms. His grip on your thighs tightened as he pulled you as close to him as possible, hips hammering into you with a force you didn’t know he was capable of.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he whimpered, eyes closing as his head reeled back. “I’m so sorry.”

His pace grew unfathomably, making your body shake with the sofa. You let out a groan as he had you, cock jackhammering with sharp intention. He repeated himself, fucking you and himself silly, as if he’d never had a taste of something so intoxicating in his life. No amount of your blueberry wine could make him as drunk as he was on your pussy, wrapped around him so tightly and rhythmically. You found yourself staring up at him in fascination as he pleased you greater than you’d ever dreamed of. Uncontrollable lust took over him as he found your gaze again, looking up to him with the expression he’d so desperately hoped to see on your face one day. He pushed your thighs back up against you as he knelt forward, finding himself somehow even deeper in you as he brought his face to tower over yours.

“You’re so fucking, ah,” he moaned, “feel so fucking good.”

“Baby, please don’t stop,” you beckoned further, “I’m so close.”

“Oh fuck, sweetheart, come for me,” Harvey begged, his pace unyielding as he brought one hand down to your clit, rubbing it in rough circles. You yelled out as he stimulated you, grinding your teeth down at the overwhelming sense of pleasure.

“I’m gonna,” you choked, needing to gasp for air.

“Come on my cock, baby,” he coaxed further, desire taking the reins.

“Fuck!” you groaned out as your core clenched, a wave of pleasure breaking so strongly over your shore that your ears almost began to ring. Harvey choked back a whine as you clamped on him repeatedly like a rip tide pulling him out to sea.

“Sweetheart I’m- I’m so fucking close,” he almost squeaked.

“Inside,” you gasped as you continued to ride out the swell.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispered, his rhythm becoming rocky on the jagged coast of his release. Within a moment, the waters stilled, and he let out a low and slow inaudible string of expletives. You could feel him release inside you as you still convulsed, sending you back into the ocean of bliss one more time.

Your breathing hitched as Harvey’s slowed, his hands finding themselves over your chest as he steadied himself. Together you rode down from the tidal euphoria, breathing heavily and eyelids fluttering lazily. He slowly pulled himself out, placing his mouth over yours without the constraint of your bodies. Your hands found themselves in his hair once again as he pulled you up and onto his lap, straddling him like once before. He pushed your hair out of your face as you readjusted his glasses, an expression of pure adoration across both of your flushed faces.

“You are unbelievable,” he whispered, his head shaking slightly.

“How so?” you teased, resting your arms on the sofa behind his head.

“I just,” he lost himself in your eyes for a moment, a small smirk finding its way beneath his mustache. “I’ve known you for only a handful of years, yet I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Hopefully not freeze to death,” you poked leisurely. “I can’t have you getting frostbitten.”

“Not with you to keep me warm,” he placed his hands atop your hips, rubbing them softly. “Not a chance.”

“It’s warmer in my bedroom, you know.” You whispered into his ear, feeling him jolt slightly beneath your hips.

“Can we bring the wine?”

“I have a cellar full, you don’t have to ask.”

#harvey x reader #sdv harvey x reader #stardew fanfic #sdv harvey smut #i blushed so hard writing this #totally self indulgent #harvey whimpers and that's what matters most #harvey stardew valley

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6feathered6siren6 · 3 months ago

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Overworking till sickened

Tigger warnings

Death near the end

Ooc??

ཐི❤︎ཋྀ

For this past week, it seems like almost everything is after you. First, your boss is giving you so much more work, making you work overtime to just complete them. It’s been pouring constantly, and just today, you forgot it as it said that it would be clear by the time you left your job. Feeling your clothing stick onto your skin as you walk over to the convenience store. You sighed as you felt your back crack along with the breath in. You really just want to grab an easy dinner and go to sleep.

As much as you wanted to annoy Ronin back with revenge, that could be saved another time. You honestly felt too tired to do much after you got home. And after getting yelled at so many times, you were glad you have tomorrow off. As you got to the food isles, you got a text from your boss.

Boss: <Need these files worked on by midnight, I know you left but get them done at home.>

You immediately wanted to bash your head in. This was the third time this week. You did not want to do this. Like you wanted him dead… wait no, you’re not a killer… not yet, at least. And you know that you won’t make a hit for Misaki to pick up, as much as you would want to see her in person for the first time. You did not want your boss dead yet. You still have to be paid for your work.

As you grab some frozen dinner and walk over to cash out for your items. Tying the bag to make sure your food wouldn’t be wet, you walked out back into the dreadful rain. As you walked your way back home, you were in thought, not paying attention to where you were walking and bumped into someone.

“Watch where you are going, Dumbass— Well, well, well. If it isn’t you, Darlin’?” Speak of the fucking devil. As you looked up, it was Ronin, drenched in the rain as well. When he saw you, the smirk you always associated with Ronin was on his face. As much as you would like to bother him like any other day, you so much wanted to leave and finish up the work. “Damn, Darling. You looked like you just died and came back to life.”

You wanted to roll your eyes, but it must have been the fatigue setting in. All those late night workings and energy drinks must be kicking in. You watched your world almost black with a figure trying to catch you.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

As you open your eyes, you see a white ceiling and red walls covered in slashers and knives. At first, it felt foreign to you. You swore you didn’t fall asleep here. Heck… You know that Ronin hasn't invited you to be at his house yet. As you sat up on his bed, you felt like your head was splitting into two.

As you groaned, holding your head, a chuckle was heard from the door frame. “Mornin’, sleeping beauty.” You tried to look at him but with your headache, the light from the hallway felt like it was stabbing you. You groaned in pain when you looked away from him. “Damn… that's bad, huh? But what do you expect walking in weather like that. Or, working for corrupted capitalism and not giving the devil any attention. Could result in you being stuck on my bed.”

“What… what time is it?” It hurts to speak out just a few words. With your sore throat and splitting headache, you regret walking in that storm, and those overtime hours you put in with your boss. You absolutely felt like shit.

“Witchen hours, Darlin’.” So it was 3 am… wait… Your work! The assignment that was due at midnight! You tried to climb out of Ronin’s bed, but your limbs felt too heavy to move. As you shakenly stood up, your vision went black again, feeling hands on you, helping you stand for a bit as your vision went normal. “You already fell once, don’t need you to fall for the devil again. Now you need rest, no way, a snowflake in hell, letting you go. Knowing your hellborn stubborn mind, you are just gonna work while you’re like this until you drop dead.”

You were about to speak, but as you tried to say the first word, your throat rumbled into pain. Ronin sat you back down on his bed, and crossed his arms.

“Serous, darlin’. With the way you seem right now, might as well kill your boss to make you take a week off.” You gave him a glare, and he knew what it meant. He just gave you that smug look you always received when you are peeved. Looking down at your lap, you were somehow in your own clothing on his bed, which was dryish. But you could feel the wrinkles on it.

As you pulled your shirt, feeling uncomfortable, a hoodie was thrown onto your head. “Those can’t be comfortable, ain’t it?”

You pulled the hoodie off of your head, seeing the black hoodie in your hands. A soft sickly smile was pulled onto your lips. Then some light pink sweatpants were thrown onto the bed. Must have been one of Angel’s. At least she was closer to your size than the over 6 foot man. “Go and change here. I got some meds around here to help.”

He shut the door behind him. Leaving you alone in the red dimmed room. Changing swiftly, now out of the wrinkled clothing, you sat back on his bed. As he walked back in with a knock, he put meds into your hand, a cup of tea in the other. “Drink up and rest, Darlin’. The moment you are better, we are gonna talk. Don’t need you dying just yet.”

He put his hand onto your head and shifted some of your hair out of your face. Then sat into his desk chair, staring at you as you took the meds and drank the tea. It was able to soothe your throat.

“Thank you.” You looked at your cup. Knowing that if you fall, you have a devil to catch you and bring you back up.

⋆༺⸸⛧⸸༻⋆

A week after you got better, you were at your desk, working on you novel once more. You see a notification on the server. Specifically, “killer chat”, with your boss’s dead body there. He apparently didn’t take ‘No killing my boss’ seriously. Well, at least the email you got the next day said you had a few weeks off to mourn his death since you worked under him.

The butcher got you the break you needed. Even if you told him no.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Alright, after like a few days, I got stumped and had to rewrite this. But I finished the overworked saga with a sick reader. I'm probably gonna work on oc x Ronin or Misaki next unless I get a request. Anyway, don't be like reader and overwork yourself. Get some rest, drink smth, eat smth.

Words: 1,133

#killer chat #killerchat #fanfic #gender neutral reader #x reader #canon x reader #killer chat ronin #ronin beaufort #ronin killer chat #ronin beaufort x reader #killer chat vn #killer chat game

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blondiexbiites · 1 year ago

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Maddie: Humans are so predictable and easy to manipulate! I'm the smartest person in the room and so much better than them--

Human: *Sees through her act and calls her out*

Maddie: *Surprise Pikachu face*

#∘⡊ ☾ ˚⊹lights out⊹ — ooc #she's just a big silly #maddie you are smart but there are other people in the world smarter than you #you're not special sweetie #I just love it when my muse gets rightfully put in their place

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yuebinnie · 10 months ago

Text

Atlas

☾ Pairing : Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x F!Reader

☆ Warnings : hurt/comfort, emotional breakdown, disassociation, depression, ooc Alastor, established relationship

☾ WC : 1.5k

☆ A/N : Using writing as a coping mechanism. I hope you guys enjoy this, writing it helped me get through a breakdown haha. Love, always xxx

You never understood why it happened. Everything would be great—amazing, even—and with no reasonable cause, within an instant, tears would fill your eyes and the weight of the world would fall upon your shoulders. It was like peacefully walking on the beach only to suddenly be sucked into the water, where no amount of fighting against the current would let you reach the surface; you could only accept your fate and let yourself sink, breathe in through the burning feeling and let water fill your lungs.

This time, though, you knew exactly what had triggered it.

You had been chatting with Angel Dust at the hotel bar, gossiping about meaningless things, when you reached to grab cashews from a bowl sitting close to him. He had slightly nudged your hand away, tsking, saying those were his. You had known it was friendly banter from the tone he had used, but you felt the familiar burning feeling behind your eyes appear and your composure fall. Nonetheless, you had forced a small laugh out as you looked at your almost empty glass, clenching your jaw slightly as you tried your best to fight back the tears that were beginning to fill your eyes.

You had excused yourself quickly, mumbling that you were tired and going to bed under your breath, leaving Angel Dust confused as to what just had happened. The walk to your room had been quick; the inside of your cheeks was bleeding from how hard you had bitten down, attempting to keep a somewhat neutral look on your face.

Now here you were, your back against your bedroom door, alone in the darkness. You felt the tears flow down your cheeks as you closed your eyes; your arms folded up to rest against the back of your head, hugging it, as you muttered to yourself, “He was joking, why the fuck are you crying.” But your body had a mind of its own, and tears started to flow in greater numbers as a heavy weight settled in your chest. You sighed loudly, slowly making your way to your bed.

You sat down and stared into the obscurity, your bottom lip trembling from the sheer effort of trying not to break down over something so stupid. You failed to control the rhythm of your breathing and knew you were done for; this was gonna happen whether you wanted it or not. You lifted your legs on the bed, shuffling to lay on your side, grabbing a pillow to hold against your chest and bury your face into. You welcomed the tears, the ragged breaths, the sobs, the shakiness, the heaviness of your very existence; you let them take over you, not a single fighting bone left in you. You were dragged to the seafloor, your body numb but your consciousness still there, despite being muddled.

You lost track of time; fully aware you were having an exaggerated reaction to something so silly. You knew your body was not done; it always lasted an embarrassingly long time. You could hear your pillow-muffled sobs as if they were coming from someone else, and you already felt exhaustion dawning upon you.

From far, far away, you heard a voice, “Oh, mon amour.” Even though you felt disconnected from your body, you knew you were being moved. The person did not try to remove the pillow from your grip, and instead dragged you upwards, so your side was resting against their chest instead of the mattress. Two arms wrapped around you and a hand was placed on the back of your head, petting your hair slowly.

It felt warm and secure, and just by the gentleness at which you had been handled you knew who it was, and so you permitted yourself to dig into the seafloor, your body shaking harder from the strength of your sobs. The weight of it truly befell upon you, every single repressed emotion resurfacing like a tsunami wreaking havoc. It hurt, everywhere and nowhere all at once, and you were, oh so tired. Of what exactly, you did not know, but your very soul felt exhausted, like a candle running out of wax.

Wave after wave you let the feelings wash over you, Alastor holding you close and making sure to ground you to this realm of existence with his touch. All you could focus on was the ache, spreading all over from its epicentre in your chest. You could hear a faint hum and felt a soft vibration coming from under you enter your being, slightly soothing your nerves.

Your eyes opened under the water, and you saw the surface above become lighter; you swam up, reaching the surface as your mind slowly reconnected to your body. You tossed the pillow you were holding away and turned in his grasp, burying your face in the crook of his neck as small sobs still left your mouth. Your breathing was irregular, a mixture of pants and gasps as your body desperately tried to get oxygen. Alastor snaked an arm around your waist, his other hand still in your hair as he said softly, “Breathe with me, my dear.”

You struggled, at first, as you tried to copy the rhythm of his breaths, your lungs not letting you inhale properly. He kept breathing, his chest rising and falling slowly, and after a few minutes, your body felt calmer, and despite being shaky, your breaths were matching his. You felt your body melt against him, bodily exhaustion weighing on you like a weighted blanket. Your tears had also stopped at some point; only the trembling remained. He ran a hand up and down your back in a comforting manner, humming a tune as he let you take all the time you needed, not in a rush to get you to talk. The beating of his heart thrumming against your cheek that was pressed against his neck was trying to lull you to sleep, but you slowly detached yourself from his body to look up at him.

He observed your face, smiling softly as he kept running his fingers through your hair; you looked like a mess. Your eyes and lips were puffy, your face blotchy, and your flushed cheeks were covered in smudged mascara. You gave him an attempt of a smile and he leaned over to press his lips against your forehead; despite looking like a mess, you were still the prettiest little thing in his eyes. You sniffled as he pulled away, meeting your gaze once again, “Do you know what triggered it this time?” You bit down your bottom lip, as you nodded once, feeling extremely silly. He moved his hand to your cheek, stroking the soft skin, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Your mind started running wild; shame, anger, and annoyance all tried to take over but with a deep sigh you pushed them away and hesitantly spoke up, “I was at the bar with Angel.” Alastor’s eyes narrowed at the name, but he let you continue, “We were talking and joking around; nothing bad happened, really. He teased me and it just… Hit me. I left and came in here.” You bit the inside of your cheek, cringing at how sensitive it was from being wounded earlier. Your head slightly cocked to the left, “How’d you get in? I locked the door.”

His smile dropped for a second before reappearing, “I knocked, ma chérie, and called out for you but you would not answer so…” He dragged out the last word, quickly leaning in to smack a small kiss against your lips before saying just as quickly, “I used my shadows.”

You groaned and let yourself fall back against him, pressing your cheek against his chest as you mumbled, “Of course you did.” He chuckled, his fingers finding their way back to your hair as his other ones traced invisible shapes on your back. You sighed again, and brought a hand to his chest, enjoying the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat underneath your palm, “Thank you for coming in, Al.”

“My, what kind of partner would I be if I let my girl cry herself to exhaustion all alone?” A bright smile spread on your lips as you hummed, agreeing with him. You closed your eyes, enjoying his warmth and the feeling of his presence as you felt your breathing slow down, calmness dawning upon you.

You turned your head to press a small kiss against his clothed chest, returning to your original position a second later, murmuring, “I love you.” His hands halted their motions, and you felt his heartbeat accelerate a little; you only ever rarely told him those three words.

He hummed, his fingers returning to what they had previously busied themselves with, “I… Am quite fond of you, too, my dear.”

A giggle made its way past your lips, the heavy feeling and ache that had weighed you down now a forgotten thing. As always, Alastor had been the one to help you come down from it, grounding you so you would not get lost in your mind. Although he was feared by most and came across as judgemental, he was nothing of the sort with you; instead an understanding and doting partner who made sure you stayed as content as you could be. In all honesty, that was all you could ask for, and you were, oh, so grateful to have met him.

#alastor #alastor fanfiction #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #yueyan writes...#alastor fluff #alastor x you #alastor comfort #hazbin hotel fanfiction

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