#I don’t typically do part twos so I hope y’all like it

[starsreminisce]

Lucien Week

Day Seven: Free

Mask Part Two

The question loomed over them like an opulent, dazzling chandelier, casting a shadow of uncertainty.

But Elain's response transcended mere words; it manifested in myriad ways, leaving an indelible mark.

It was discernible in the puffiness that clung to her eyes the morning after, as she resumed her stoic facade.

It manifested in the unspoken chasm that had taken root between her and Azriel, a silent testament to the shifting dynamics of their relationship.

It was apparent in the gradual inches she surreptitiously moved closer to him, seeking solace and connection.

It was conveyed through the subtle turn of her head when Lucien discussed Princess Sigrid with their inner circle, a gesture that betrayed her concealed emotions.

It was evident in her wholehearted engagement in the mundane sessions and frivolous arguments, driven solely by the desire to hear Lucien's voice, her attention unwaveringly fixed on him.

It resonated in the rapid cadence of her heart when he turned his gaze toward her, a symphony of emotions playing out in the rhythm of her pulse. In moments of solitude, her heart retained a calm, unwavering beat.

It was unmistakable in the subtle slipping of her mask when Lucien continued to play the gracious host to the captivating Princess Sigrid, and in the princess's flirtatious responses to the charming courtier.

It was embodied in the raw, profound jealousy coursing through their bond, unrivaled by any emotion he had ever known, whenever Princess Sigrid placed her hand on him, or when she bestowed slow kisses on his cheeks, a rage as fierce as a forest fire surging within them.

Above all, it was reflected in the pain etched in Elain's eyes each time Lucien declined their invitations to dine with the princess, all in accordance with the princess's persistent requests.

Lucien longed for clarity, his hope no longer reliant on subtle cues and body language. As long as she remained silent about the question that loomed, his answer would forever be a resounding no.

"Would it not trouble you?" Lucien finally ventured as they lounged in the library after a taxing day of finalizing the treaty.

"That I must present this to my father, who possesses no interest in eradicating slavery?" the princess contemplated.

"That I am bound by a mating bond," Lucien sighed.

The princess regarded him, and he had to concede that she was not only beautiful but also brilliant, forward-thinking, and compassionate. Her concerns about the institution of slavery stemmed from her fear that not everyone would readily embrace its abolition.

He had sworn never to marry for anything less than love, especially as the son of a High Lord, but perhaps he had been looking at it all wrong. Being married to someone who enjoyed his company seemed far preferable to being mated to someone who did not.

"Both of us find ourselves in a precarious situation," Princess Sigrid remarked evenly. "Love may not be a luxury we can afford, given that we are commodities in the political alliances of our respective courts."

He furrowed his brow. "Did Beron approach you with this proposition?"

"Anyone seeking an alliance with Vallahan has made their overtures," she replied with a nonchalant shrug. "My own brother had his mate coerced into breaking their bond because my father deemed the match unsuitable."

"Do I resemble a prized stallion to you?" Lucien quipped wryly.

Princess Sigrid met his gaze with unblinking directness. "Rhysand certainly knows how to leverage your talents. I've heard that the human lands are thriving, the Spring Court is flourishing, and the Night Court's reputation has transformed from unfavorable to coveted."

Lucien chuckled. "So I am, it seems."

"If your mate fails to recognize your worth," Princess Sigrid said, returning to her book, "then seek companionship elsewhere. A mating bond does not equate to love."

"And what if she were to accept it eventually?"

"Then she can join us," Princess Sigrid shrugged, her smirk undeniably mischievous. "After all, I'll need both your assistance in ensnaring Eris as a husband."

Lucien burst into hearty laughter. "I must admit, I'm quite fond of you."

Their private moment was abruptly interrupted by the soft, almost inaudible footsteps that announced Elain's entrance into the library. Her gaze was cold, a stark contrast to the warmth of the room, and Lucien could practically hear the anger and frustration brewing beneath her calm exterior as she observed their closeness.

"Ah, Lady Elain," Princess Sigrid chimed cheerfully. "I was eagerly anticipating a chance to speak with you."

Elain's smile reached her eyes, but their bond betrayed the turmoil within her. "Rhysand would be delighted if the two of you could join us for dinner tonight, given that it's your last evening here."

Sigrid, not one to shy away from tension, turned to Lucien and ran her hand through his hair in an intimate gesture, her voice dripping with sweetness. "I suppose I have been somewhat selfish in monopolizing Lucien's time."

Lucien could feel the electricity in the room intensify, his heart pounding as he witnessed the silent clash of wills between Elain and Princess Sigrid. Elain's civility barely concealed her true emotions, and the air crackled with unspoken rivalry.

Maintaining her composure, Princess Sigrid responded to Elain's invitation with honeyed words. "How gracious of you, Lady Elain. I would be honored to dine with you this evening."

As she leaned in to kiss Lucien on the cheek, she whispered, "Do you think she'll poison me or stab me for touching you like that?"

"Enough," Lucien said, leaning in closer to her.

Princess Sigrid giggled and gracefully left the room, sauntering past Elain. "I need to freshen up. I'll meet you there."

Lucien closed his book and rose from his seat. To his surprise, Elain finally spoke. "I'm surprised you didn't follow your betrothed, especially when I have yet to provide you with an answer regarding our bond."

"You misunderstand me if you think I will wait indefinitely for you, like a helpless fool," Lucien retorted.

"Is all of this just a ploy to pressure me into giving you an answer?" Elain inquired, her eyes probing his.

Lucien reached her, their faces mere inches apart. "No, Elain. You've already given me your answer through your silence."

"She doesn't love you," she whispered, her lips parting ever so slightly.

It was challenging for Lucien to meet her gaze, especially when her vulnerability was laid bare. It was difficult to resist the urge to hold her, to reassure her, as the jealousy transformed into nervousness and her heart beat erratically beneath her icy facade.

“I don’t need her to,” came Lucien’s reply.

Elain's eyes bore into Lucien's, and she paused for a moment, considering his response. After a moment of silence, she finally spoke, her voice filled with an earnest, almost reluctant sincerity.

"Lucien," she began, her tone soft and contemplative, "will you truly be happy, knowing that you're not loved in the way you deserve to be?"

Lucien's gaze softened, and he took a deep breath, contemplating her question. He understood the weight of her concern and the depth of her feelings.

"Does it scare you?" he asked her once again, his voice gentle and searching. "That you'll never see me again?"

The silence hung heavy between them, an unspoken acknowledgment of the painful crossroads they had reached. Elain's eyes searched his, filled with a mix of sadness, longing, and a growing sense of resolve.

"I can't keep living like this," Lucien finally confessed, his voice tinged with weariness. "One of us needs to make a decision, and if you want to change it, then change it."

Elain's gaze didn't waver, her emotions laid bare. She hesitated, wrestling with her own inner turmoil before she spoke, her voice trembling slightly, "So, you'd rather never see me again than hold out hope?"

"Yes," Lucien replied, the word heavy with the truth that had been festering within him for far too long. "And if that scares you, then please let me know. But, Elain, I am leaving to get the treaty signed, and I'll be there for as long as it takes."

A heavy silence hung in the room, and Lucien's heart sank with the weight of uncertainty. He couldn't bear the thought of never seeing her again, but he also couldn't continue living in this agonizing limbo.

Lucien watched as Elain's eyes shimmered, resembling delicate dew-kissed petals basking in the soft, golden light that filtered through the library's grand windows. Her fingers, as fragile as spun gold threads, quivered with anticipation, reaching out to bridge the chasm that had separated them for so long.

In a moment of raw vulnerability, she closed the remaining distance between them. Her lips met his with a tenderness that spoke volumes, as if each kiss held an unsung note in their unfinished symphony. The taste of salt from her tears lingered, adding a bittersweet melody to their connection.

Their kiss was a desperate plea, a silent cry, and an intimate confession all at once. It was a plea for him to grasp the depth of her feelings, to understand the intricate web of emotions that had ensnared her heart. In that fleeting moment, they wove a tapestry of longing and love, with each kiss acting as a golden thread binding their souls together, strengthening a bond that transcended the boundaries of time and circumstance.

As their lips finally parted, she looked into his eyes, her voice trembling. "Please, return. I don't want to lose you, not like this."

Lucien's response was an unexpected twist in the melodrama of their entangled emotions. "Come with me," he urged, the words sincere and hopeful.

Elain blinked in surprise. "What?"

"You know the treaty," he pressed. "Come with me."

She hesitated, her thoughts racing. "I don't… It's too short of notice."

Lucien's eyes held a compelling blend of determination and longing as he spoke. "We'll figure it out together," he assured her, his voice laced with a quiet, unwavering certainty.

But Elain's reaction was far from what he had hoped for. Crushed, she pulled away from him, shaking her head, and without another word, she made her way to the dining room, leaving Lucien behind with a heavy heart.

Regret gnawed at him as he sighed, chastising himself for pushing her too quickly. In the wake of Elain's departure, Princess Sigrid appeared, her frown revealing her understanding of the situation. "I heard. I'm sorry. I did want her there too," she offered sympathetically.

Lucien, ever the master of his own emotions, concealed his inner turmoil behind a practiced smile. "Well," he said, slipping back into the role of the courtier who could never have his heart broken, "it was worth a try. She is my mate, after all."

The dinner proceeded unceremoniously, marked by Azriel's absence. Laughter and banter filled the room, with Rhys and Cassian playfully teasing Lucien by addressing him with variations of 'your highness' and 'your majesty.' Feyre attempted to hide her sadness at her friend's impending departure, while Nesta, true to her character, made a cheeky request that brought blushes to a few faces.

Yet, beneath the facade of cheer, Rhys's reminder that Lucien remained under the Night Court's employ until the treaty's finalization cut deep, grounding them all in the complexities of their situation.

A flicker of hope fluttered through their bond, only to be swiftly extinguished when Princess Sigrid playfully mentioned a 'deadline' in a way that hinted at secrets and unspoken agreements.

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence, all eyes turning to Elain, and it was Nesta who posed the unspoken question, "You do know Lucien has a mate, right?"

Princess Sigrid answered first, her smile unwavering. "I do," she confirmed.

Lucien chimed in, "She's aware."

Elain's concern was evident as she voiced her unease, "That doesn't bother you?"

As the challenge hung in the air like an unspoken duel, the room brimmed with tension. Lucien watched, torn between the desire for a future with Elain and the reality of his situation with Princess Sigrid.

With a serene smile, Princess Sigrid responded, "No, it doesn't bother me."

Elain's brow furrowed as she pushed further, "But it should. He will never truly be yours. He has a mate."

Princess Sigrid's reply was filled with wisdom and calm determination, "Love and possession are not the same, Lady Elain. I understand the complexities of his situation, but I choose to cherish the moments we will have together. If you don’t like where it’s going, change it. Take a leap of faith. Cauldron knows we live far too long to be confined in situations that define us."

The dinner continued, marked by quiet contemplation and a sense of understanding. The night concluded, and the following morning, the inner circle gathered to bid farewell to Princess Sigrid.

Finalizing the treaty took just a few days, and Lucien's departure date was swiftly set. He and Elain had not spoken since their last encounter, and he had come to terms with her unspoken answer. He knew that he wanted all or nothing, and her silence signified 'nothing.'

The day before his departure, he penned a heartfelt letter to Elain. In it, he expressed his gratitude for the moments they had shared, his hopes for her happiness, and an understanding that their paths had diverged. He gently suggested that she reject the bond two days after he had left, to avoid any turmoil that might ensue.

His final words conveyed his longing for happiness and his prayers that she would find hers too. The night before he left, there was a small dinner in his honor, but neither Elain nor Azriel attended.

As he prepared for his journey, sleep eluded him. He wondered whether the distance and the distraction would be enough to mend his aching heart, without the burden of hope. He relished watching the dawn break over Velaris, feeling the thrill of a new adventure ignite within him. The inner circle didn't want to say goodbye, hoping that his departure was only temporary, and Lucien preferred it that way.

As Lucien approached the dock, his heart pounding in his chest, he couldn't help but notice a small figure standing there, waiting for him. Elain looked up as he neared her, their eyes meeting once more, and in that moment, the air was thick with unspoken emotions.

She waved his letter and spoke with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, "I think if I were to reject the bond in two days, it'll be a pain dealing with you when we are on that ship together."

Lucien's brows furrowed in confusion. "What do you…"

But before he could finish his sentence, she kissed him. It was a soft, sweet kiss that held the promise of something more. He responded urgently, his desire and longing finally finding release in their embrace.

"I would have done neither stabbing nor poisoning," Elain whispered, her voice barely louder than a breath. "I would have ruined her in court with rumors."

A surge of hope coursed through Lucien's veins as he dared to ask, "Does that mean you're coming with me?"

In response, she pulled another letter from her pocket, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "It's hard to ignore when a Princess summons you. But she said that she was worried you'd be too distracted missing me to pay attention to making sure the treaty would pass. And she misses my murderous glares."

Lucien couldn't resist the urge to kiss her once more, a fervent and passionate kiss filled with the promise of forever. He thought to himself, "I'll have this forever. I'll have her forever."

She turned around and handed him an apple muffin, a sweet gesture that touched his heart. "I made this for you."

With a playful glint in his eye, Lucien teased, "I don't know, Elain. I mean, I did get a marriage proposal from a Princess."

Elain's frown deepened, and she urged him, "Lucien, stop playing around."

With a mischievous gleam in his eyes, he leaned in close, whispering against her neck, "I've waited two years," his lips brushed her skin, eliciting a small gasp, "you can wait until we're on the ship."

[ambrosiagoldfish]

I've never sent a request before, but I'm fiending for more adam, like anything, anything at all

Benefit of the doubt

Adam x 3rd Spouse! Reader

Viewer discretion is advised

Warnings: Angst(?), Not exactly fluff at the end but it gets better, typical Adam TW’s, reader low-key high-key has a complex about being loved, this is set way before the show, and Gn! Reader. (Also Y/n isn’t used, which also surprised me, the author, LMAO)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Request Box: Open

Word count: 1760

A/N: Hi! Thanks for the request! I haven’t had a chance to write something that was originally my own idea in a while, so this was very refreshing! I’ve had this idea since I’ve watched the show so I hope you enjoy it!

I’m entirely up for making a small series from this oneshot, but I would need to know y’all’s opinion on it! (So don’t feel scared to let me know if you want some more of this idea in my Request box/the replies on this post!!)

Also Adam may be slightly OOC but please just chalk it up to him not yet getting his ego’s dick sucked 24/7

Anyways, I hope you all enjoy, let me know if you do!

Proofread but of course could have left mistakes!

You’ve existed for almost all of human existence, Almost.

You were the 4th being to be created during the time of Eden. But unlike the other 3, you weren’t human. In fact, you technically never lived before. An honestly hopeless existence, yet it was so beautiful in every way. But for what purpose? Well…

You were created shortly after Eve ate the apple, before she and eventually Adam committed the first act of sin that caused evil to latch onto humanity like a leech.

The reason for your existence was simple. To be Adam’s new spouse, except for when after he died. From the very moment Eve bit the fruit of temptation, it was already decided she would hold no place in heaven. Adam was given mercy due to him not possessing any knowledge of the fruit Eve had shared with him, he trusted her wholeheartedly. Which is exactly why heaven gave him mercy… no, pity would be a better choice of words.

Upon your creation you learned immediately of the happenings before your existence. About Lilith and Eve, and about Lucifer

And so, after Adam and Eve were casted away from the Garden, they continued to live their lives, fostering the existence of mankind for the rest of time. And when they eventually died, Adam was given pity while Eve was thrown to the wayside, the vast unknown.

You thought it was finally your time to experience existence with the one you loved, the one you were made for. Of course you never would know life as he did but surely your life never-after life could be just as meaningful as his.

How excited you were, how completely enamored by the thought of it. But there was a problem with that, Adam had grown into a new person, he was meant to of course, he was human. But he had grown selfish, abhorrent… insecure.

You understood why, to be betrayed by not one but two of his wives for the same person. You couldn’t possibly imagine what he could be feeling. Before you were to meet your future husband, Sera informed you that he had asked for a mask, and once on, he has refused to take it off.

That didn’t bother you, it’s irrelevant to your love for him. You've only heard descriptions of his features. Short Brown hair, gold eyes, bushy eyebrows, some scruff on his chin. All in all, he sounded perfectly fine, ordinary even. But even then it’s his choice to wear the mask, so you’ll respect it.

Finally, the time he arrived in heaven, and when Sera finally introduced you, his new spouse, the one to whom would be by his side for the rest of forever.

He rejected you outright.

“What?” Your breath hitched as you stuttered over the word, the sharp inhale of your lungs through your mouth flicked through the air.

Sera looked just as shocked as you but she quickly regained her composure “What is the meaning of this Adam?”

“If you think I’m going to let my life get fucked over by another one of your “gifts” well, you’ve got another thing coming!” He crossed his arms and shook his head defyingly. “I’ve already learned my lesson with those last 2 bitches.”

“Adam I’m sorry that happened to you but I would never-“ almost like lightning his finger shot to your mouth, shushing you.

“Save it, Sweetcheeks, I really don’t care what you have to say, so just stay there and look pretty, k?” His hand fell and grabbed the sides of your face, squishing your cheeks together, his LED mask flashing a sharp smile.

You saddeningly looked down at the clouds below you.

“Adam!” Sera’s voice sounded through the air, still soft but firm, she continued, placing a hand on your shoulder, “Divine judgment allowed you to be the first human soul in heaven, so I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I expect you to give your new spouse that same grace.”

Slowly your eyes looked up at Sera with a soft smile. Adam only groaned “Ugh, Fine but don’t be fuxking annoying, capiche?” You nod your head quickly.

“Very good, glad we have it settled.” Sera gives a quick smile, “now, I have some business to take care of so I’ll leave you two alone to get to know one another” With that, Sera flew away leaving the both of you alone.

The silence was thick in the air, the only sound being the occasional wind breeze blowing past. The sunlight creeps in through the clouds painting an orange sky above you both. In every sense of the word, it was perfect.

It was almost funny. You had waited so long to finally meet him, your true love, the one you were made for. All the things you dreamed about, the laughs you’d have together, the warm embrace of the person who you loved. But now… you didn’t know what to say…

“I’m… happy to finally meet you.” Your voice is quiet, almost non-audible. “I’ve been waiting for you since… well, forever…”

He doesn’t respond. He seems to be transfixed on something below you both. You train your eyes on whatever he’s watching only to see the dark cavernous abyss below you. Finally he breaks his silence.

“The fuck is that?” He asked pointing down, a sound of genuine intrigue hidden behind his abrasive voice

“That’s hell?” You stated confused “where would-be sinners will go to be punished, didnt you k-“ you suddenly realized that perhaps Adam really didn’t know what hell was. It was only created relatively recently, after Eve and Him ate the apple, of course he wouldn’t know. “it’s also where Lucifer-“

“Don’t fucking say his name.” Adam spoke, his voice rough in his speech. LED mask putting a harsh frown on his face. “Let’s get one thing straight M”Kay babe, if you’re my “new spouse” that’s something you should remember.” The “new spouse” was said with a tone clearly meant to mock you.

“Sorry…”

“Ugh, It’s fine, just don’t do it again.” He groaned before a wicked smile crept onto his mask “Sooo, that means he’s going to be stuck with all the wasteful beings of existence, HA fuxkin’ hilarious. Guess that makes them the losers and us the Winners!”

His laugh filled the air, the sound was like music to your ears, sure maybe it wasn’t really what you’d hoped he’d fine funny, but you loved it all the same but eventually his laugh died down

Silence again… in admits of all of it you suddenly was sparked with a thought “oh!” Adam looked confused at the random exclamation. “I had almost forgotten… I brought you something, as a welcome gift or was it a nice to meet you gift? Both? Eh, it doesn’t matter but the point is-“ you suddenly snap your fingers.

Golden light began shining, the light seemed like liquid hot magma as it moved and molded slowly into a shape. Light seemed to be overlapping and churning into itself, forming your desired outcome. With one final snap of your fingers, the gleaming gold liquid took hold, and quickly hardened to a solid.

The object that had formed quickly fell down, landing in your arms with a light thud.

“I’m still learning this creation stuff, so I’m sorry if it’s not perfect but-“ you hold out the object in your arms as an invitation to grab it “I learned from Sera that you liked to play guitar when you were alive, so I thought you might like to have one here…”

Adam looked at the instrument in your hands. The base color was gold, the neck was pearly white with gold strings. To be honest it looked more like a harp then anything, like if a guitar and a harp had a baby.

Silence again. Did he not like it? Did he hate it? You go to pull it back to you and apologize when suddenly it’s ripped out from your hands.

“Holyshit, this is sick as Fuck!” Adam immediately started playing some rifts on the new guitar. The sound wasn’t what you were expecting but you guess Sera was right about his talent with the instrument. The whole time his mask had a wide and sharp smile as he mimicked guitar sounds with his voice, the occasional laugh leaving his mouth.

“I’m really glad you like it” you say, a sigh of relief leaving your body.

Adam looked at you, one you missed. He saw how relieved you were, how nice you were being. No person who supposedly loved him ever gifted him something, well, one other did. Someone he trusted and loved more than everyone, anyone. But look how that ended, with them being removed from the garden, away from an eternity of happiness until he died. All from someone giving him what he thought was nothing but love, a gift.

But he could see that this was different, you were different. When Eve gave him the apple, she didn’t explain what it was or why she wanted him to eat it, even when he asked her she didn’t explain. But with you, you had not only given him something you knew he liked but also expressed the reason behind it. Yes, you were different, even Adam could see it.

“Anyways, thanks for the axe, I guess…” Adam for the first time was stunned, but quickly he continued “What was the thing that Sera chick said about me and “divine judgment” or whatever the fuck? That she gave me the “benefit of the doubt…”

You were a bit confused but continued listening, “I guess I should at least try to give you a chance, since you got me this sick ass guitar an’ shit.” Your face lit up, you about began to speak before you were, once again, shushed “B-B-But-” his finger tapped your lips with each repeated syllable ”-only a chance. If you betray me like those last 2 bitches then you’re done, got it?”

To say you were overjoyed would be an understatement, a smile quickly plastered across your face as you quickly nodded your head

“Alright good, so uh, what do ya say about showing me the best places to get a bite to eat around here, I could really go for some ribs right about now.”

“ I’d… love to, thank you Adam”

“Yeah don’t mention it Sweetcheeks” Adam quickly wrapped his arm around your shoulder and you two began walking.

Maybe you will get your eternity of happiness.you can only pray you do.

[aurorawritestoescape]

IN HIS ARMS || QZ!Joel Miller x f!reader || 5,2k

Summary: You meet a smuggler in the QZ and can't resist your attraction to him.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, a bit of fluff, unspecified age gap, Fedra soldier!reader, unprotected piv (wrap it up), creampie, mirror sex, degradation, rough sex, praise kink, size kink, reader really loves Joel’s arms (who doesn’t), manhandling, alcohol consumption, use of a morning after pill, mention of guns, mention of canon-typical violence. Reader has hair. Joel can pick her up. Pics are only for the mood, reader has no other specific physical descriptions.

A/n: this is written for PPCU Body Worship writing challenge, created by talented, sweet and beautiful @joelmillerisapunk 💖 I got ‘Arms’ and immediately thought of meaty, beefy QZ Joel. Smooches to my lovely beta @milla-frenchy 😘 Dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕 Love y’all! Hope you will like the story!❤️

MASTERLIST

“Let’s go.”

“Sure you need me there? It’s your deal, Ronnie. And you know you’re armed, right? Why do I always have to hold your hand?” you complain, while your eyes are scanning the crowd at a public hanging for any sign of disturbance. It’s not your favorite task but Fedra sends enough soldiers here to keep things under control so it usually goes smoothly. That’s probably why your friend Ronnie arranged a deal right in the middle of your shift.

“I’m nervous, ok,” he admits, glancing at you, “The dude’s fucking scary. Never worked with him before. But I’ve heard stuff. You’re just gonna stand there, that’s all. Don’t need to talk.”

You’ve known Ronnie since you were teens in a Fedra camp. Now both officers, you are still inseparable, though at this moment you’d prefer to be as far away from him as you could because in case you two get caught, you both will be a spectacle of the next hanging. Ronnie’s pleading eyes always work on you and the little weasel knows it well so you curse and follow him to the place of the meetup.

As soon as you see the smuggler, standing in a secluded spot far away from the prying eye, your heart starts beating faster. And not because he scares you. Yes, he’s huge and looks very unfriendly, thanks to his furrowed brows and the closed off stance which actually happens to be the culprit of your unexpected reaction. His pose accentuates the beauty of his arms as he’s crossing them in front of his chest. It’s a threatening sight, same as his gaze, but like a moth to a flame, you’re pulled to the man immediately. All thoughts in your head are replaced with only one - he’s fucking hot.

Ronnie slowly comes up to the man, feigning confidence.

“Who the fuck is this?” the smuggler asks, nodding at you with his chin.

“Just a friend. Don’t worry, Joel.”

“I ain’t the one to worry here, kid,” he gruffs, uncrossing his arms as his fists clench in a threatening gesture and you can sense the waves of panic, coming from your friend. “I prefer to do these things one on one. Don’t need an audience. Ya got me?”

“Yeah, ‘k. Next time I’ll be alone.”

“Hope so.”

Joel looks you up and down and you suddenly feel too hot. Standing a step further from him than Ronnie and not saying anything, you’re ogling the man with hungry eyes. Joel seems to relax and the men finally exchange the goods— pills for your friend and ration cards for the smuggler. They’re talking about the product, scheduling the next deal, and you should be on the lookout, should be attentive to the surroundings, like you always are, but your mind, as well as other parts, is fully focused on the stranger.

Joel’s hairy forearms are thick and strong and every little move makes his muscles flex and bulge out of his rolled up sleeves of the denim shirt. His shoulders are broad and the fabric, containing them, is strained to the limit. You’ve never been a biter in bed but suddenly you want to sink your teeth into his arms, lick them all over, glide your hands over the vast expense of his skin, grab them and feel them tighten around your body, encompassing you fully, while his cock stretches…

“Hey!” Ronnie exclaims, interrupting your horny daydreams, pulling on your sleeve and you blink at him, trying to shake away the visions of the man, doing filthy things to you.

“Let’s go!” he says for what appears not the first time, and you smile awkwardly, noticing Joel’s smirk. His arms are crossed again, but now he’s looking at you with a twinkle of curiosity in his piercing eyes, his heavy gaze lightened up.

You take a step away, following your friend, but Joel stops you.

“Sweetheart, wait!”

The pet name hits you right in the pussy and you pause and turn back, confused by why he’s calling you.

“C’mere,” the man motions for you to return to him with a shake of his head, his bear hands shoved in the jeans pockets.

“We’re in a hurry, man,” Ronnie frowns, thinking he’s coming to your rescue, but you turn to him and say,

“It’s ok. Wait for me over there.”

You have no idea what Joel wants from you, but you’re eager to find out. Not hiding his anxiety, your friend takes a few steps away from you and stands at the gate, glancing in your direction from time to time while his hand is resting on his gun.

“Yes? Joel, right?” You ask, coming up to the smuggler and using every last drop of your will not to leer at his mighty arms again.

“Yeah. What’s your name?”

You reply with a little smile and see a smirk tug at his plush lips when he asks, “Like what you see?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been starin' at me like at a piece of meat. No use denyin' it."

You avert your eyes, chewing on your lip. You probably should be embarrassed to be caught ogling the man, but life in this miserable world taught you to take what you want whenever you can. Especially if it's being handed to you.

"I'm not." You look back at Joel with defiance in your gaze. "I think you're hot."

Joel’s chest expands when he takes a deep breath, the shirt’s buttons hanging for dear life. His piercing eyes turn a shade darker as he asks,

"Wanna do somethin' about it?"

Your heart rate increases and the warmth of arousal between your thighs makes you shift on your feet.

"What are you suggesting?"

"Come over to my place tonight. Around 8. Ask your friend for the address. He knows."

You don't reply for a few seconds, making it seem like you're thinking about your answer, although your pussy has been aching since the moment you saw the smuggler so there's no way you're going to reject his invitation.

"'K", you reply, feigning nonchalance, while excitement is twisting your stomach.

“What?! Are you out of your mind? You're gonna see him?” Ronnie hisses at you, as you two are walking back to the square. “He’s dangerous! Do you realize that? He’s huge! Have you seen his arms?”

“Oh, I’ve seen his arms alright,” you reply with a dreamy smile, sensing butterflies in your belly.

“Fuck, you’re so stupid when you’re horny. If I find you tomorrow dead in a ditch, I’ll tell your lifeless face ‘I told you so!’”

“Jesus, man,” You giggle, playfully punching Ronnie’s shoulder. “I’ll be ok. I promise.”

The night can’t come soon enough. Still wearing your uniform, you rush to meet the man who's been occupying your mind all day. When Joel opens the door to you, you swallow loudly seeing him in the same denim shirt and dark blue jeans. You’ve been dreaming of his huge arms around your body, so your panties are completely soaked, and having had no time to change after your shift, you hope to slide them off as fast as possible.

“Hi,” you greet the man, stepping into his apartment.

“Howdy.”Joel closes the door and stands next to you, while his gaze is sliding up and down your body. You look around the apartment, getting a whiff of his scent— sweat with a subtle trace of whiskey.

“Are you from Texas originally?” You ask, glancing up at him, slightly intoxicated by his closeness.

“Yeah. Want a drink?”

He walks to the living area and you follow before leaving your guns at the door.

“What do you have?”

“Whiskey, vodka…water.”

“Vodka’s fine,” you reply, stepping up to a worn out couch and sitting down.

“Oh, are you a vodka girl?”

“I’m a ‘whatever burns’ girl, but vodka works faster on me,” you smile and Joel smirks, crossing his arms again. You swallow loudly, seeing his sexy tan forearms in the golden light of the setting sun. Fuck, you wanna touch them.

“Why d’ya need it to work fast? Doesn’t seem like you need any liquid courage.”

“Really?”

Joel goes to the kitchen and in a few seconds returns with a half empty Smirnoff bottle and two shot glasses. He plops next to you on the couch with a grunt and pours out the alcohol.

You drink yours in one go and Joel follows. The vodka burns and calms you down a little. Joel clears his throat before he speaks,

“This morning your friend was shaking like a leaf. And you… You were practically undressing me with your eyes, sweetheart.”

You smile and drop your gaze down to your lap.

“Well, Ronnie is a nervous guy and I’m …”

“A needy little slut?”

You shoot your eyes up at him and see a smug smile, tugging at his lips, as he awaits your reaction. You should probably feel offended or angry, but instead your core burns brighter at his degrading comment and your pussy flutters, as if proving him right.

He reads your reaction immediately.

“Oh you like that, huh?”

“What?”

“When I call you a slut.”

“I don’t mind,” you mumble while your mind is shutting down with every dirty word he throws at you.

“Yeah, you looked like a thirsty whore this morning. And I see that nothing’s changed.”

You’re barely breathing at this point, as waves of arousal ripple through your body, making you squirm in your seat.

“I…I just really like your arms.” Your gaze shamelessly slides over his body, so big and powerful.

“My arms?” Joel’s brows shoot up and he turns his head to look at his arm, resting on the back of the couch, as if trying to understand your attraction.

“Yeah,” you nod slowly, ogling the muscles straining his sleeve.

“Wanna touch ‘em, baby?”

“Yes, please”.

“So polite. Wanna call you a good girl but we already know that you prefer ‘a slut’.”

Joel chuckles and narrows his eyes, watching you for a few seconds, while you’re melting under his lustful gaze, sinking in the sticky pit of desire. Through the fog in your head you hear his voice, low but still powerful.

“How about we skip the pleasantries then and get to the thing you came for.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m gonna fuck you. And let you touch my arms.”

Your breath hitches and your body tingles all over. You can’t agree fast enough.

“Yeah, ok.”

“Do you always say ‘yes’ to everything, little slut?” he smirks, playing with you like a cat with a mouse.

You try to come up with a witty response but your mind is clouded with lust so you just shake your head with probably the dumbest look ever.

“Can I use your bathroom?” You mumble and when he points you in its direction, swiftly walk there.

You close the door in the little room and check your face in the mirror. It’s the same as every day except for your glossy eyes. You rinse your face, trying to come to your senses, look a little less horny but it’s all in vain. The desire overtook your body completely so you dry yourself and leave the room.

When you return to Joel, you find him on the couch in the same spot and in the same position. Only now he’s completely naked.

A shiver goes down your spine from a new surge of arousal, tightening your core.

You barely hear him, your mind is fully occupied by the image of this gorgeous, huge man, waiting to fuck you. Everything about him makes your pussy beat with the rhythm of your heart - his soft belly, his long, girthy, slightly curved semi hard cock, resting on his thick thigh, his broad hairy chest and muscular arms. Seeing them without the confines of the clothes completely shuts off your brain and you take a step towards him, mesmerized by his muscles, wishing to feel them already.

“Take your clothes off, baby.”

You hardly hear him, taking in every inch of his body.

“Girl! Undress. Fuckin’ hell,” Joel groans and you shake your head, waking up from a horny trance, and start discarding your clothes hastily, piece by piece while his dark gaze is set on you. You should be more graceful and seductive taking them off, but your aching pussy makes your movements rushed and determined. When you’re completely naked, except for your panties, you hook your thumbs into the waistband of the last piece of clothing, but Joel stops you.

He gets up and walks to you, his big cock in his veiny hand.

“Wanna do it myself,” he mumbles and stands next to you, at your side, so close that you feel his warm breath on your cheek and breasts, his naked chest brushing against your shoulder, his manhood poking your thigh.

“Pretty little thing,” he whispers, taking in your body, while his hand slides down your back, leaving chills in its wake. You raise your big eyes at him, your lips parted. “Pity you get so dumb though,” he chuckles and lightly squeezes your asscheek. His hand stays there while the other one cups your breast and grazes your nipple with his calloused thumb, making it stiff. You moan and he groans.

Joel’s palm on your ass moves lower, and reaches your pussy, covered by the wet panties. He slips his finger between your asscheeks and rubs your drippping hole over the gusset. You softly whimper and he plants a light kiss on your cheek, stroking your folds over the fabric.

“She’s been crying for me all day, huh?” he mumbles, placing his large warm hand on your belly, the other one still caressing your cunt. “Pussy so needy she shut down your whole little brain. Yeah, baby?”

All you can do is nod, your senses fully focused on the way his thick fingers are rubbing your aching cunt over the underwear.

“She must be cold, sweetheart, being in a pair of wet panties all day like that?” He coos at you.

“Yeah”, you reply, barely breathing, already feeling your orgasm build because of his light touches. “Didn’t have time to change. I have a sexy pair at home.”

Joel breathes out a chuckle, “I bet you do, little slut. Would love to see ‘em too one day.”

The only response you can give is a mewl.

He steps in front of you, his hand leaving your pussy, and you whine. Joel tsks at you and pinches your chin with his fingers to lift your face to his.

“Oh, my pretty bimbo, already cock drunk,” he laughs, locking eyes with you.

Joel’s so huge, you should probably be scared, but all you feel is a pathetic need to be completely destroyed by him.

“Lights are on but…fuck, you’re gone,” he mocks you, looking into your hazy blown out eyes.

“Listen to me,” he commands, as his fingers slightly shake your head, getting your attention. “How do you want it? Gentle or rough, sweetheart?”

“Rough,” you croak back without any hesitation.

“Good. Then do what I say and we gonna have a great time, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good little slut.”

Your breaths are short and fast as you’re blinking, starting at him like a mindless fuck doll. Suddenly, you gasp when he grabs the back of your thighs with his massive hands and lifts you, throwing your legs around his waist. You grab onto his broad shoulders and he carries you away from the couch and to the bedroom.

He drops you on the bed, old and stiff, but you don’t care. You have no time or ability to think about anything, because as soon as you’re on your back, Joel pins you to the lumpy mattress with his heavy torso and kisses you. He’s not asking for a kiss, he’s taking it but you willingly open your mouth, welcoming his hot tongue. A happy moan escapes your mouth, when you finally glide your palms over his huge arms. He slides your panties off and cups your pussy with his huge warm palm.

“Messy whore,” he mumbles against your mouth.

Joel’s assertive, passionate and as horny as you are, and you smile against his lips, enjoying his desire for you.

He begins peppering kisses along your jaw, your neck, leaving hickeys on his way to your breasts.

You whimper when his mouth finds your nipple and gasp when he nips at it. He licks the pain away and starts sucking on it while his hands are roaming your heated body.

You grab onto his shoulders and shift your hips under his arm. Joel’s slurping and growling, caressing your breast with his lips and tongue, but you crave more so you start grinding your wet pulsating pussy against his arm. Your movements immediately send you to the precipice of your climax. His muscles flex as you rub your clit against them, smearing your slick over his tan skin, and Joel parts from your tit for a few seconds to watch you use his arm to get yourself off.

“Look at this sloppy little pussy. Gonna need a shower after this. Or…,” he smirks and gets back to suckling your other breast.

Each motion of his muscles is helping you to come as you’re dragging your pussy up and down his heavy limb. Soon you throw your head back, dipping it into the pillow when a hard climax hits you and your cunt contracts around nothing, as euphoria is coursing through your veins, taking away the last of your clear thinking.

“That’s it— take it, slut— come for me — jus’ like that,” Joel mumbles against your trembling chest but you hardly hear him, so deep in the ocean of desire, all sounds around you are muffled.

The next thing you feel is his hands grabbing your shoulders and lifting you. Joel makes you sit up and wraps his heavy hand around the back of your neck.

“Look what you’ve done, messy girl.”

He nods at his arm, glistening with your cum and slick and then growls, “Lick it clean.”

With a hazy smile you sit on your heels, getting comfortable. Then you take his arm between your hands and reach for it. Your tongue slides over his hot wet skin and you flutter your eyes shut, reveling in the sensations of his firm muscles under your tongue and the earthy taste of your juices.

“Attagirl,” Joel praises you and slightly squeezes the back of your neck to make you move your head lower and lap up all the mess you’ve left on his skin.

When you finish, Joel lifts your head and sees you staring at his throbbing cock with empty but hungry eyes. It’s leaking precum generously and you almost drool looking at it. You should probably be nervous to take his huge length but all you feel is feral lust.

Placing his palm under your jaw, Joel tilts your head up and searches for your eyes.

“Damn, lookin’ so dumb right now. Lucky you remember how to breathe, little whore.”

He laughs at you and grabs your face, as his fingers dig into your cheeks, making your lips pout.

You whine and he pulls you into his chest. You hug him as if afraid to float away and he gives you a few moments of rest while you are panting, snuggling into his embrace after the shuddering orgasm.

Then he lifts your chin and locks eyes with you. Your breath hitches as you’re struck by his handsome face, which leans down and he kisses you again, gently and slowly, wrapping you tighter in his embrace. Then he asks,

“Why do you like my arms so much?”

You blink a few times, trying really hard to understand the question, drunk on his taste and the way he’s holding you, but when the meaning finally reaches your brain, you stumble over your words.

“I… they… jus’ so big. And … fuck, very hot.”

You feel his broad chest shake with a quiet laugh. “Ready for my cock, baby?” You nod your head with a soft mewl.

“Wanna watch my arms when I’m railing you?”

“Yeah, yes, please.”

Joel hums and gets up before manhandling you off the bed and leading you to a wardrobe. He’s holding you under your arms, noticing that your weak legs are barely able to move, still tingling after your orgasm. He places you like a fuck doll in front the wardrobe door with a mirror and stands behind you. He’s so big and broad that you can see his shoulders and arms perfectly in the reflection. Your gaze glides over your own naked body, and you notice a path of hickeys along your neck and breasts and your core ignites again at the sight of his passion. Then you look at Joel, his eyes are obsidian, the expression is carnal and hungry, and you moan, feeling his cock slap your lower back.

His gaze drops down before he pushes your legs aside with his knee, his thick fingers dig into your hips and he pulls your ass, making you stick it out. Trying to steady yourself, you brace your hands on the mirror in front of you, but he grumbles,

“Not the mirror, stupid. You’ll break it, cut yourself.”

You swiftly move your hands further apart onto the wooden surface.

“Sexy but so dumb,” he mumbles as his eyes return to your ass and his cock. You watch his face, serious and concentrated, and sense his tip prod your sopping hole.

“Fuck,” he curses and pushes his cock deeper, slightly bending his knees to insert it into your tight pussy easier.

You push your ass out more for him, already whimpering like a whore, as you feel your walls slowly part to accommodate his stiff cock. It stings but you welcome the sensation of his manhood spreading your pussy until he bottoms out and you both moan at the sensation.

“Ahh— she feels amazing, baby,” he grunts and you smile dumbly at his reflection in the mirror.

“Such a sloppy cunt,” he murmurs, starting to plunge his length in and out of you with a fast rhythm, “oh, yeah — yeah — yeah—.”

His fat cock is massaging your walls deliciously, kissing your cervix with every deep thrust and you mewl with pleasure and scratch the wooden surface of the wardrobe with your nails.

“Naughty kitten. Tess will kill you if you leave marks on her furniture,” Joel chuckles through heavy panting, squeezing your hips and watching your cunt swallow his glistening cock.

“Who’s Tess?” You ask, not really giving a fuck and he doesn’t reply.

Instead he grants you your biggest wish - he pulls you flush to his chest and wraps his arms around your torso from behind. Your hands immediately fly to grab onto his strong limbs. Joel’s right arm is under your breasts, slightly pushing them up. The other one is keeping you in place, pressed to your chest, between your tits, his giant hand on your throat. His thick fingers curl around your neck but he doesn’t squeeze it, just holds you close against his broad torso.

The sensation and the vision of his powerful muscular arms bonding you to him like that, make your pussy contract and Joel growls in your ear, his breath hot and wet,

“Squeezing me already? Fuck, you’re easy.”

You whine and Joel nibbles on your ear lobe and rasps,

“Hold tight, baby, it’s gonna be a wild ride.”

As soon as the words reach your ear, he begins rolling his hips and dragging his cock in and out of your tight pussy, hard and fast.

You grab onto his bulging muscles better, and as he’s increasing the pace, you’re scratching him with your nails, leaving white marks on his golden skin and whimpering.

“Yeah, take it, dumb little whore. Gonna fuck the last of your brain out of your pretty head.”

Your breasts bounce while he’s fucking you and you bite your puffy lips, trying to muffle your moans, but Joel commands against yout ear,

“Want you to be loud, baby. C’mon. Let them all hear how good im fuckin’ ya.”

You would do anything he told you this moment so your lips part and you let your pleasured noises out, as they mix with the sound of skin rhythmically slapping against skin and his animalistic groans.

Reveling in the sensation of Joel, pounding your crying cunt, you let your hands wander all over his forearms and shoulders, squeezing and scratching them slightly, wishing to memorize the feeling of their strength under your hungry touch. Your vision is shaking with every mighty thrust of his hips but you’re watching the reflection of you two closely, drowning in the image of this tall broad man using you like a mindless fuck doll, caging you in his powerful arms and tears well up in your eyes at how amazing it feels. Your mind and body are focused on this pleasure, suffering and worries of the reality are gone and the drops of pure happiness spill and fall on his arms.

Joel notices you crying and stops fucking you, swiftly pulling out and turning you around.

“What is it, baby? Did I hurt ya?”

His dark eyes, a second ago filled with carnal desire now worried and concerned, dart all over your face and body, searching for the reason of your tears.

You grab onto him and shake your head,

“No, no, i’m fine — feels so good - you feel so good, Joel.”

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” he breathes out, pulling you into his bear hug and rubbing your back with his warm hands.

“Please keep fucking me,” you mumble against his hairy chest and he barks a laugh before throwing you back on the bed, making you squeal with excitement.

Joel lies down and manhandles you to straddle him.

“Sit on my cock, little slut,” he commands, eyes darting between yours, reading your reaction.

“Yes, yes,” you mumble, wrapping your hand around his hot hard cock and lifting your hips, hovering over it. You don’t make him wait and immediately sink down on his weeping manhood, as your mouth falls open and your head tilts back.

Joel’s hands are holding your hips when you start riding him, and then snake up to your breasts to knead them, pinch and twist your pebbled nipples.

You run your fingers over his forearms from the elbows to his wrists and grab his hand, intertwining your fingers. Not pausing your lustful dance on his cock, you gently kiss his palm, his hand, then your lips glide down, leaving open mouth kisses over his wrist, the underside of his forearm and his elbow, darting your tongue out and tasting his salty skin. You lean forward, your nipples brushing his chest, and kiss his biceps, using your tongue, and Joel moans, watching you practically make out with his arm.

“Fuck, you’re hot, baby,” he groans while you’re lapping at his skin with your eyes shut. You’re softly whimpering at the sensation of his body, big and strong under you, his cock caressing your walls, making your pussy flutter around it, pushing you closer and closer to your second climax.

“Shit,” Joel curses, pulls your head off his arm and kisses you, while hugging your torso with his python-like grip. He’s holding you tight and you whine, not being able to move your hips and chase your orgasm. Sensing your impatience, Joel plants his feet on the bed and begins jackhammering his fat cock into your slicked up pussy, giving it to you rough and fast, not sparing your little hole.

You’re moaning against his scruffy cheek, your body shaking with his feral thrusts but Joel’s iron hold is keeping you in place.

“Usin’ you like a fuck doll you’re, yeah? Brainless little slut. Made just to make my cock happy. Perfect for me.”

His filthy words, leaving his mouth through gritted teeth, are barely audible because of the loud slapping of his body against yours and the squeaking of the old bed.

“Joellll…,” you moan, and after a few more thrusts explode on his thumping cock, caged by his strong arms, sobbing with heavenly pleasure flooding every inch of your body.

“Hnggg—shit—can I come inside?” You hear a gruff roar in your ear and with Joel fucking your brains out right this moment, you breathe out, “yeah, oh, yeah.” You crave to be full of him, drip him for days after, getting turned on just from the memory of him. As soon as you agree, Joel starts spurting his hot cum into your pulsating cunt, filling you up, emptying his balls into you.

You’re lying still, nuzzling his neck and taking everything he’s giving you, milking his cock to the last drop with your contracting walls.

Gradually intense ecstasy morphs into a pleasant satisfaction and you both bask in the afterglow of your orgasms. You feel almost high on endorphins, not used to such an amount of happiness in your veins, in your life.

Joel softens his embrace but still holds you, letting you rest and you almost doze off, lulled by his warm chest rocking you up and down like a giant wave.

“Don’t sleep yet, ya need to take a pill,” he gently shakes you, sleep heavy in his own voice.

“Oh, yeah…fuck, you came inside,” you murmur, blinking at him, as your mind fog slowly clears up.

“I have a Plan B, don’t worry.”

He moves you off him and lays you down on the bed, then gets up, making the bed squeak.

You can’t move your limbs even if you tried to so you’re lying there, feeling his warmth between your legs, kisses of the afterglow all over your heated skin and smile lazily when he returns to the bed with a glass of water.

“Look at you, as cock dumb as they get, huh?”

He plops down next to you and hands you the pill.

You sit up with a tired smile, swallow the pill and chase it with a few sips of water.

“Good girl,” Joel takes the glass from you and shakes his head when you murmur that you need to go.

“No way. Sleep here. They'll hang your ass if they catch you out and about at this hour.”

You turn your head to the window, just noticing that it’s completely dark outside, only the street lamps illuminate the room with a yellow light.

“Aww, you care about me, Joel? Don’t fall in love,” you giggle but your heart flutters as you look up at the man, so handsome and huge, looming over you.

“I’ll try,” he deadpans and shakes his hand, motioning you to scooch.

You shift to the other side of the bed and he lies down on his back with a grunt. You’re still sitting up, shamelessly admiring his naked body.

“Quit starin’,” he mumbles with eyes closed and pulls you down onto his chest.

You’re lying on his shoulder for a few moments and then whisper,

“Can you big spoon me?”

“Jesus…,” he sighs but turns on his side, scooping you in his embrace and you smile, closing your eyes as your hands gravitate to his arms, heavy and secure around you. You press your back into his warm chest and fall into a deep and peaceful sleep.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic!💖🌸

Masterlist

General tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @fruityreads

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[magneticecstasy]

clandestine ✤ joel miller part i — new horizons

series masterlist & foreword | ao3

moodboard is not an illustration of how reader should look, just for the ~vibes~

fic summary: it’s september 2016, you're in your final year of sixth form college and joel miller joins the teaching staff as your new history teacher. over the course of the academic year, boundaries are blurred, crossed and ruined when joel begins to reciprocate your insatiable crush on him; what should be so wrong just feels so right.

rating: E | pairing/AU: teacher!joel x student!fem!reader

chapter warnings/tags: (6.5k) this is an 18+ fic so mdni! dubcon (due to student/teacher relationship, both parties are consenting otherwise), age gap (reader is 18, Joel is in his early 30s), power imbalance, inappropriate relationships (teacher!Joel is not a good teacher), fetishization of new-adulthood (if you squint), some pervy!Joel, inexperienced!fem!reader is hornee™, pet names (Joel calls reader darlin’, sweetheart etc.), minimal description of fem!reader where possible, reader has hair and is generally able-bodied, otherwise undescribed where possible.

a/n: ahhhh the first chapter of my first fic finally out!! i won't lie i am so nervous to post this but reading other lovely fics from the pedro pascal cinematic universe™ written by some amazing people has inspired me to write and post my own. any feedback is greatly appreciated, especially as a new writer. i hope you all enjoy the teacher!joel brainrot as much as i do.💞

account tags (let me know if you'd like to be added): @sugadolly can't wait for you to read this! hope you enjoy!💓

Tuesday 4th September

8:44am

The calm corridor echoes with the sound of your shoes hitting the ground hard as you run to your registration period before halting suddenly.

“I’m here, Mrs Marvelley,” you holler at your form tutor as you tumble into her classroom in a rush and fluster. “I’m here before quarter to,” you pant, heavy rucksack in tow, having just bolted up two flights. You arrive just as she calls your name on the attendance register, narrowly avoiding a late mark that you were keen to avoid on your last first day of school.

She rolls her eyes, and mumbles something along the lines of “You’re lucky.”  

Usually punctual to form registration and lessons, you were delayed countless times this morning by classmates wishing you a belated ‘happy birthday’ for last Sunday, your 18th. Born at the start of September, you're among the oldest in your year, one of the first in your cohort to reach adulthood. Many of these conversations with friends animatedly recapped the events of your party the previous Saturday. The gathering was a typical teenage house party: no parental supervision, loud music, junk food, with a few bottles of booze and packs of cigarettes acquired on the sly through nefarious means, with way more people that you’d initially invited. Luckily, your close friends helped with the cleanup operation the next day, and your parents' trust in you remained intact and you stayed in their good books for the time being.

Realising the time, you part ways with your friends, each heading to your respective form classes, a wave of contentment washing over you. Unfortunately, someone had to go and ruin it.

Taunts of ‘look at her, MILF in the making’ , and ‘best time to start an OnlyFans is now, babe’ from a crew of boys you’ve never liked echo down the corridor. Their cruel laughter at their own remarks colour your anger a violent crimson. 

“Oh, get fucked ,” you seethe through clenched teeth, flipping a middle finger in their direction, all the while praying you won’t get caught for the foul language. Turning on your heel you swiftly retreat, eager to escape the confrontation.

A few metres down the corridor, you overhear the boys’ guffaws being cut off by a chastation from a voice that’s foreign to you. Rounding the corridors’ corner, you decide to hang about and eavesdrop on the hecklers’ punishment.

“Now boys, I know y’all don’t know me yet but I don’t think this is a great introduction for my first day here.” The voice is deep, gravelly, laced with an American accent that you guess as Southern—maybe Texan if you had to be precise. Must be someone new, maybe a teacher? A member of Senior Leadership? You’re sure you’ll find out during registration if you were to ask around.

“I-I-It was only a joke, sir,” one of the crew pleaded to him. Not so big and bad now, eh?

“Oh sure , sure.” The voice drawls, laced in sarcasm. “Funny ‘cause it was lookin’ like you were botherin’ a young lady.”

“Oh sir, don’t be like that, it was just banter,” another boy pipes up.

The unknown voice lets out a deep huff. “Do you need your heads checked? Y’all were spoutin’ some real sexist things, and that ain’t a joke, boys — it’s not ‘banter’ ,” the gruff voice now raised, seething. “Seein’ as your ‘jokes’ have now landed yourselves in after school detention tonight, I think ya’ll need to come with me to get your detention slips signed.”

The group of boys groan in unison and you hear one swear under their breath. Oh shit, they’re in for it, now.

“Hey!” The pitch of his speech deepens, harsh and guttural, a threatening aura now looming in the air. “Let’s not make it two after school detentions in a row for insubordination.” The boys are now deathly silent. “I recommend y’all shut your traps and follow me. I’ll email your tutors and let them know why you’ll be late for registration. What a disappointin’ start to the year, boys…” The husky voice trails in the opposite direction, still berating and scolding the group.

You’re itching to text your friends about the clash that just went down, but just as you’re about to hit send, the bell rings for morning registration. Shit. You tuck your phone away and hustle towards your form classroom, hoping to avoid a late mark.

9:03am

Your form group was small, fewer than 15. A few of them were familiar faces from your early years in primary school, while most were friends you had made during your time at the local high school. There were also a few new acquaintances from other schools in the area, including Chelsea, notably absent from your registration period this morning.

Despite only meeting her last year when you joined the college, she’d quickly become one of your closest friends. She was in your History and English Lit/Lang classes so you often spent time together, as well as studying and revising at each others’ houses, and over time your friendship blossomed. The first year of your A-Level courses were a journey for you both: you laughed together, cried together, comforted each other through the meltdowns triggered by the towering workload and disheartening feedback on essays you’d slaved over.

This morning’s registration period is extended by 20 minutes, seeing as it’s the first day back and there’s a lot to catch up on; new schedules to coordinate and potentially revise in the case of any timetable clashes. This was to be followed by a ‘Welcome Back’ assembly held in the main hall of the sixth form college, that you don’t doubt will be boring as hell.

Your head is buried in your new school planner, setting it up for the upcoming year, when you feel a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you are greeted by the beaming face of Chelsea.

“Chelsea! Hey!” you say, surprised but happy to see her. “Dude, you are so late.” You stand to pull her into a tight squeeze of a hug.

“Babe, I know —my car was being a bitch this morning, took forever to start,” she exhales, exasperated. She breaks the embrace, drops her backpack on the floor and sits at the desk next to you.

“Shows you for driving an absolute shitbox,” you tease, attempting to lean back into the rigid plastic seat.

“Hey, don’t talk about Gizmo like that, it’ll hurt his feelings.” Chelsea throws a mock frown at you. “Not like your hunk o’ junk is much better.”

“Guilty as charged,” you banter, arms up in mock surrender.

“ Anyway …Happy belated birthday!” she exclaims, pulling out a small, colourful badge from her bag. “I know I couldn't make it on Saturday, so I wanted to give you this now. You gotta wear it all day.”

You look at the badge; it is vibrant and cheerful decorated with hearts and stars, with a playful ‘Birthday Girl!’ written in glittery bubble letters. A mix of emotions washes over you. You are so pleased by the thoughtfulness of her gesture—Chelsea was always a giver—but a little embarrassed by the idea of wearing a badge in front of everyone on the first day back.

“Awh, Chelsea, you didn't have to…” you start, but she cuts you off.

“I know, I know, but I wanted to. You deserve a little extra celebration!” she grins, pinning the badge to your blazer proudly.

You feel a warmth spread through you. It is touching to know she had thought of you and made the effort despite missing the actual day. You glance around, noticing a few curious glances from your classmates. Embarrassment mingles with gratitude, and you smile at her warmly.

“Thanks, Chels," you say sincerely. “This means a lot.”

Chelsea flashes a wink. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

With that, you begin recalling the details of the altercation you overheard between the boys and the new staff member. You provide a concise rundown, explaining how the boys suddenly started harassing you, describing how this new, mysterious person defended you after you had presumably left. Chelsea is as astonished as you are to hear the entire story.

“Wait, you have no idea who it was? And he was American ?” Chelsea raises an eyebrow, then narrows her eyes, probing you further for details.

“Southern? I dunno. And, nope, sorry, no idea, hon,” you shrug, “I didn’t think to get a look at him. Didn’t want to get caught eavesdropping, y’know.”

Chelsea ponders, drawing out her words. “Hmm, interesting...”

“Do you know of any new teachers taking over this year?”

“Not a Scooby-Doo clue, mate,” her shoulders rising and falling in a shrug. She pauses a moment, lightly tapping the desk with her fingertips and pursing her lips. “ So … Did he sound hot?”

“Chels! You can’t say that!” You gasp, shocked at her question, hitting her arm playfully.

“Oh come on, I just wanna know the deets!”, she defends whilst punching you back in jest. “Did he sound old, young—you gotta give me something to work with?!”

“I dunno how to describe it, umm… he was…” you trail off, replaying the snippets of what you overheard like a movie. 

The voice was a rich, gravelly drawl that sent shivers down your spine. His tone had a weathered maturity, a deep, husky resonance that carried the weight of experience. There was a touch of warmth, even when he was angry, like a low rumble of thunder on a hot summer night, both comforting and electrifying. It was the kind of voice that could soothe a troubled mind or set hearts racing with a whisper. The kind of voice that you were desperate to hear again, that sparked your curiosity.

“It was, like, deeper, husky— I don’t fucking know , Chels!”, you attempt to surmise before breaking out into a giggle and your cheeks warming into a blush.

“A-ha! So, he was hot! You jammy bitch.”

“We don’t even know what he looks like, so we can’t say for definite if he is or isn’t hot yet.”

“Well if he sounds fit, he probably will be.” There’s a proverb in there, somewhere, if you look hard enough.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?”, you jest. Chelsea laughs and it’s infectious, both of you giggling at your wild hypotheses.

Your conversation is cut short when Mrs Marvelley calls for the class’ attention. She begins handing out your new timetables for the year, and you grab yours from her eagerly, hoping that it’s not terrible.

“These are your timetables for this year. I’ll give you a few minutes to check them over. If there’s no issues, head up to the main hall for assembly. If there are issues, you need to go down to the admin office and speak to Mr Jones. I repeat, you need to see Mr Jones.” She spots a hand raised amongst the group. “And, no , Dan, he won’t change it so you get Fridays off, no matter how much you beg and bribe him.” A few quiet snickers ripple across the class.

Looking at the timetable, your eyes are drawn to a different set of initials where you expect to find AW, for Mr Walker, one of your lecturers who seemed as ancient as history itself.

HIST/A2

JM

Rm. 93

A few of your other peers also spot the change too and break out into a slew of overlapping speculative discussions.

Is he dead? Wouldn’t surprise me—My sister heard he had to get a hip replacement, second one musta gave out finally—I guess Mr Walker ain’t walking anymore, hahaha, what? C’mon, it’s just a joke, Miss, be chill—Who’s JM? You reckon it’s a guy or a girl? I hope they’re nice, not like Mr Hall. He’s a dick—Can’t believe they haven’t sacked him yet. 

“You good? Everything okay?” Chelsea asks, standing to collect her belongings.

“Yeah, no issues here.” You follow suit, packing your bag to leave. “‘Cept Mr Hall is still teaching History.” 

“ Ugh , tell me about it. Let’s hope this fresh meat isn’t as much of a twat as he is.”

“That’s wishful thinking, Chels, but I got my fingers crossed. Anyway, time for us to be bored out of our minds for an hour. Let’s go.”

10:28am

As you’d predicted, the Welcome Back assembly dragged on for what seemed like millennia. You’d been sitting there that long that your ass had gone numb. Led by the assistant headteacher Mr Faulkner, it was the usual presentation, welcoming everyone back after the summer, a few announcement of extra-curricular activities commencing this week, with some interesting musical performances from the Music students and a refresh of the colleges’ rules, expectations and consequences: 

Try your best.

You are a representative of the College, in and out. Conduct yourselves in a manner that does not put the institution into disrepute.

You are in your last year now, make it count.

Surely, this all could have been in an email . It was basically the same trifle they spouted last year. 

Before you feel yourself fall asleep out of boredom, the last announcement catches your attention, and urges you and Chelsea to sit up in your seats.

“Before we end our assembly today and let you go to break, I have one last announcement—an introduction, actually,” Mr Faulkner announces, wrinkled hands clasped tightly together. Microphone feedback echoes awkwardly through the speakers. 

Shallow murmurs ripple across the hall. In sync, you and Chelsea flash each other a knowing look. This could be the end to the mystery that plagued you both all morning.

“As you may be aware, we had to bid farewell to our longest serving member of teaching staff, Mr Walker. Over summer, he underwent some surgery and he felt that it was in his best interest to retire after an illustrious 45 year career in teaching. He sends his best wishes for your year ahead and apologises for not being able to do so in person. We thank him for his many years at this College and wish him a speedy recovery.”

Chelsea leans to you. “ Jesus Christ, he doesn’t half go on, does he? Just get to the fucking point, man, ” she whispers before Mrs Marvelley quietly shushes her and raises a hand in a silent apology. You chuckle under your breath, silently agreeing with your friend. A shiver of excitement races down your spine, making your fingers tingle, a slow and steady anticipation building within you.

“I’d like to formally introduce you all to our newest member of staff to join our College. He is a former lecturer from across the pond and we are so grateful to have him join our department of Humanities and Social Studies. So please give a warm welcome to the stage, Mr Joel Miller.” A lulled applause breaks out across the hall. Mr Faulkner takes a step back from the mic and your eyes scan towards the front, looking for this ambiguous Mr Miller to join the stage.

And that’s when you spot him. Probably one of the most attractive people you’ve ever laid eyes on. The kind of person that makes your breath hitch, cheeks hot and heart skip a beat. You’re silently praying to a higher power he has an American accent as he climbs the few steps up to the stage.

Time feels like molasses as your eyes drink him in. His hair is a rich brown and pairs deliciously with his eyes, falling across his head in tousled waves. The boyish curls, a little dishevelled, frame his face perfectly and suggest a softness that beckons you to touch them. Though sparse in places along his strong jawline, the uneven growth of his facial hair adds an irresistibly raw, untamed allure, hinting at a blend of tenderness and roughness that you find insatiable. A textured beige blazer drapes over his broad shoulders, accentuating and hugging his physique with each movement. Underneath, you could see a burnt orange button-up shirt, which complements the warmth of his skin. An undone top button reveals a slight glimpse of his chest, firing your desire to see more .

Lost in him, your mind wanders as you envisage how his salt-and-pepper scruff would feel against the soft skin of your cheeks, peppering wet, sweet kisses trailing down your neck and body, and before arriving at the delicate creases of your thighs. Sweat drips down your back as your tummy flutters and tightens, and you cross your legs to seek any sort of purchase to relieve the building pressure in your core, a wetness beginning to pool in your underwear, cheeks blushing at the sight of him. Almost immediately you decide that you want him to absolutely ruin you.

A familiar voice drawls across the hall’s speakers, snapping you back to reality. You glance around to see if anyone noticed your reaction. Thankfully everyone is facing the front, focusing on the assembly.

“Uh, hi folks, thanks for having me,” Mr Miller utters into the microphone, a soft nervous smile blooming across his face. Bingo. Mystery solved at last.

You whack Chelsea in the side in an effort to get her attention and she whips her head round. It's him, you mouth silently, that’s the guy.

“No, shit. I told you he was gonna be fit.”

Saying he was fit felt like an understatement. He was immaculate, a commanding masculine energy radiating from him. To you, he's a masterpiece that's rough around the edges, sultry perfection with a touch of brooding reality.

“I ain’t one for public speaking so I appreciate y’all being so kind in welcoming me here today. And thank you to Mr Faulkner for that, uh, introduction,” he says, a soft chortle escaping his mouth. “I’m honoured to be joining such a prestigious department and hopefully live up to Mr Walker’s legacy. No pressure, amirite?”

He chuckles again, joined by a comforting wave of murmured chuckles from students around you. You’re transfixed, hanging onto every word he says.

“In all seriousness, ‘m looking forward to settling in, getting to teach history, doing what I love — thank you,” he finishes, punctuating the sentence with a slight nod. Taking a step back from the mic to allow Mr Faulkner to finally wrap up the assembly, you choose to ignore the assistant head and pour your focus entirely into Mr Miller.

Head tilting like a curious puppy, you pay close attention as he slides his glasses up his aquiline nose with his middle finger and runs his large hand through his hair, touseling his curls. You begin to fiddle with your delicate chain necklace, fingertips barely grazing the sensitive skin of your neck as a warm giddiness prevails over you causing your cheeks to burn harder. Jesus fucking Christ, he’s perfect.

“What? ” Chelsea whispers, poking her finger into your side. “ What did you say? ”

“Huh?” you murmur. Confused at first before awareness sets in, your eyes widen like a deer in headlights, realising what you’d whispered aloud. You’re about to respond and promise to tell her at break, when Mrs Marvelley's sharp whisper cuts through the air, causing you and Chelsea to freeze in your seats like statues.

“Girls ! That’s enough.” Arms crossed tightly across her body, she leans in to avoid drawing attention to herself as she delivers a quiet but harsh scolding. “Stay here at the end of assembly. You have detention for constant whispering. Now, be quiet . So incredibly rude,” she hisses. 

Avoiding Mrs Marvelley’s scathing eye contact, both you and Chelsea offer mumbled apologies, a mix of sorry Miss and won’t do it again . For fuck’s sake. Detention was the last thing you needed on your first day back.You’re kicking yourself for sitting at the end of the row instead of the middle, where you would have quietly gossiped without getting caught usually.  At least it was only technically 50% your fault with Chelsea involved, when you thought about it. You pray she didn’t overhear you gushing over the new teacher—the thought itself makes you feel nauseous.

The assembly rolls to a close at long last, and students and staff begin to file out of the main hall. In the hustle and bustle, you lose sight of Mr Miller and a feeling of longing waves over you as if you miss him already like a pathetic puppy. Meanwhile, you and Chelsea remain seated, bracing yourselves a stern lecture from your form tutor. You exchange glances every now and again, struggling to stifle your laughter despite your present situation. It’s always funny how being forbidden to speak makes everything seem so much more amusing.

11:07am

Mrs Marvelley escorts you back to her classroom at breaktime and delivers a scorned lecture as she logs the detention on her prehistoric computer, almost punching the keys of the keyboard. The computer was probably as old as you, if not older.

“Girls, I cannot believe that you were being so rude, whispering constantly like that. Every single time I looked over, you were just talking . You’re meant to be the good girls in my form class — really let me down today. Imagine what impression that makes on Mr Faulkner or even Mr Miller who’s new to this college, the pair of you gossiping like that.”

Neither you or Chelsea interrupt her, knowing better to just accept the scolding than to argue back. Admittedly, she’s laying it on a bit thick, it wasn’t like you’d committed any serious infractions or catcalled and harrassed another pupil like some people you know. It was just gossiping. All the same, you feel a pang of embarrassment in the pit of your stomach.

Mrs Marvelley twists her thin wrist to check the time on her watch.

“Alright ladies, you’ve got 10 minutes left of your detention but I need to pop out to speak to someone next door. It'll be a few minutes. Can I trust you both to stay here until I get back?”

You and Chelsea nod without saying anything. Mrs Marvelley leaves without a word and you’re both left to your own devices.

You fidget with a loose piece of thread on the hem of your skirt, running it through and round your fingers before pulling at it to snap it off. Readjusting in your seat, you let out a lengthy sigh. The previous arousal in your underwear feels a little uncomfortable now, both literally and figuratively. It’s not even lesson 3 yet and it’s been a helluva day , you muse.

“Mr Miller got you all worked up, eh?” Chelsea teases, nudging her leg into yours. It was like she read you like an open book.

“Don’t you start,” you warn, rolling your eyes, your slight irritation palpable in the sideways look. But she was right. You’d barely laid eyes on him all of 5 minutes and he was already driving you crazy. “Was it obvious?”, you ask quietly, bracing yourself for the worst possible answer that your new crush on Mr Miller was clear as day.

Chelsea’s familiar hearty laugh echoes through the room. “Only because I know you so well by now. Oh, and the fact you admitted that he was, what was it? ‘So fucking perfect’ ?” She teases, her fingers waggle in the air, forming imaginary quotation marks as she quotes you.

You groan with embarrassment. “I can’t believe I said that, I’m such a dick .” You groan again, louder this time, flopping into a pathetic lump on the desk, head buried into your arms. If the ground beneath you could split open and swallow you whole, you’d welcome it with open arms. You would prefer it actually than being stuck in college for the rest of the day.

Chelsea rubs your back, her hands radiating a warm heat as she circles your upper back, maintaining a consistent pressure. Usually when she rubs your back like this, you’re throwing up into a toilet the morning after a heavy night of binge drinking in a random field somewhere—the session hidden from your parents obviously—but it’s still comforting all the same.

“You’re alright, mate, honestly.” She insists, hands moving down to give attention to your lower back. “Nobody heard ‘cept for me. Hell, I barely heard you, but I got the message.” 

Peeking out of the lump, revealing your flushed face, your eyes meet Chelsea’s. You pout at your pitiful demeanour. 

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

There is one last thing you need to do to feel fully assured of yourself. You offer Chelsea your little finger. “Pinky swear?”

She locks her petite finger with yours and offers a tender smile, gently nodding. “Pinky swear.”

2:04pm

The rest of the day passed without any further mishaps. You had double Spanish followed by independent study and lunch before your last period - History with the enigmatic Mr Miller. Lining up in the corridor, it feels stuffy even when you remove your thick blazer and loosen your tie. The rhythmic tapping of your fingers against your thigh does little to settle the butterflies in your tummy. You’d made a tactical judgement by standing towards the end of the line; you were waiting for Chelsea and you didn’t want to seem too keen. The shrill ring of the bell pierced through the rustle and bustle of the corridor, both clouding your mind so much you barely take notice when the rest of the line heads into the class. Mr Miller is standing at the door welcoming your class in.

His eyes lock with yours and your heart does a flip. As you make your way into class his lips curve into a soft smile, inviting and warm, and you feel like the air’s been punched out of your gut. Shit. You return with a weak smile and enter the room before you pass out.

Usually decorated with replicas of historical artefacts, boxes of old dusty textbooks and old wall displays of work from students who’d long left the college, the classroom was bare, empty like a blank canvas. The desks had been rearranged from rows of tables into groups, allowing for four people to sit. You decide to take a seat towards the front, near to where you sat last year with Chelsea. She trails in not long after you and smiles with a ‘hiya’ under her breath.

“Well, this is different.” She says scanning the classroom, unpacking her bag before sitting in the seat adjacent to you. “Least it’s not as dusty with Walker’s junk everywhere.”

“His stuff wasn’t that bad. It was just too much of it.” You follow Chelsea’s lead and get your equipment out for the lesson. As you’re getting your notebook out, your elbow nudges your pencil case and its contents spill on the floor. 

“Fuck’s sake ,” you whisper under breath. Flustered, you’re about to get out of your chair when you feel a shadow over you.

“S’alright, I got it.”

Mr Miller looms over you before getting down to grab the contents of your pencil case from the floor in one swift motion. Since this morning he’s removed his blazer and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. The sight of his forearms, tanned, strong and just so masculine , makes your heart flutter, a quiet thrill running through you at the thought of those arms wrapped around you, entangled together.

“There you go, darlin’.” He says, holding them out to you, a soft laugh reveals his smile lines. “Saved you gettin’ up.” Taking the handful of pens out of his hand, you swear you feel electricity in the split second his hand gazes against yours.

“Thanks, sir,” you manage to say without squeaking too much.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” His velvety words dance across his tongue and you almost want to believe that he’s being this hot on purpose to torture you personally. 

Returning to his teacher desk he settles in the leather office chair and begins logging in and setting up his teaching resources. He completes the attendance register with no hitches; apart from the way he says your name has your head spinning. Satisfied that he can start the lesson, he rises from the table and stands near the board, ready to present, clicker in hand. 

“Alrigh’ folks, welcome to final year History, you’ve made it this far.” He leans casually against the wall in the space between his desk and the board before continuing.

“I’ll be level with you. It's period five on your first day back. It’s my first day. Your lil’ brains are probably information overloaded right now bouncing ‘round your heads.” He pauses and run his hand through his curly hair which is a lot more dishevelled compared to this morning. “I’ve had to meet almost too many people to meet within a day.”

He sounds gruff, like he’s worn his voice out from lecturing all day.

“Bet some of y’all are wondering how you’re still upright after the day you’ve had. Hell, I'm wondering how I’m still standing.” He chuckles, a rich, deep sound that seems to vibrate through you. A few from your class join in with a soft laugh. His irreverent humour puts your mind at ease and you appreciate his honesty.

“‘Won’t overload you with too many of the scary details of what’s going to happen this year but we’ll do an overview. That sounds good to y’all?” The class and you let out a mumble of agreement. “Let’s jump in then; this is your intro’ to The American Dream: reality and illusion, from 1945 to 2003.”

For the next half an hour, he shares an outline of what this year’s course will entail in terms of assessment: formative essays every few weeks to check your progress with course content, a historical enquiry assignment due in April, followed by your final exams in June. He goes on to describe some of the key events you'll study this year with confidence: the Cold War, the Civil Rights movement, the rise of popular culture and media, Watergate, the war on drugs, 9/11, and the U.S. invasion of Iraq. It’s quietly ironic that the college has asked him to teach on this module, and you wonder what Mr Miller’s perspective could offer when teaching some of the topics that he’s probably lived through himself.

The broad scope of subjects felt overwhelming looking at them in one go, yet it was the challenge you craved. History as a subject was one of your passions, even when it pushed your limits. A poor grade on a painstakingly crafted essay would upset you, but it didn't dissuade you either; it ignited a fierce resolve to prove yourself. Your old teacher Mr Walker was always so supportive of your interest in his subject, keen to hear your opinions and debate with you. His feedback on your essays was always fair, highlighting both the strengths and drawbacks in your analyses and opinions:

I like the way you’ve considered this, it enriches your main, overall argument. However, in paragraph 7, it feels a little weak and undersupported. Next time, you should consider looking at these sources I’ve suggested and how they may alter your argument. Good work on the whole — Grade: 20/25.

It was a shame that your work wasn’t appreciated by your other History teacher. Mr Hall's biassed grading, favouring certain students with A’s while giving you C’s and D’s, felt unjust. And it wasn’t because you thought your work was better; you’d heard through the grapevine that this particular group would pay seedy websites to produce their essays in all their subjects, slap their own names on the work and submit them. Others complained to Mr Walker about it but it fell on deaf ears, and lacked concrete evidence to prove the plagiarism so the issue never went further, despite it appearing to be an open secret. However on results day, your quiet determination paid off. You revelled in the sweet victory of an A, while the boys, once so favoured, faced the sting of D’s, E’s and U’s. You wondered if you’d be believed now if you brought the issue up again.

Throughout the lesson you earnestly take notes whilst you listen to his lecture, to jot down the important information and to show him that you’re listening intently, aching for a crumb of approval from the new teacher. The way he speaks commands the room, drawing the attention of the whole class, oozing a confidence that only comes with experience. Each word rolled out with a noticeable Texan accent, dripping with a natural, unforced charm. 

The introductory lecture draws to a close, to your disappointment. You could listen to him talk for hours.

“I hope I ain’t completely frazzled your heads, anyone got any questions?” Mr Miller offers a slight smile as he scans the room, his brown eyes meeting yours. For a second you feel his gaze on you, praying he doesn’t see your cheeks starting to warm for what feels like the hundredth time, your uniform feeling unbearable against your skin. As luck would have it, the bell rings, saving you and the class begins to pack up their belongings.

“Oh—before you go, I have this handout you need.” He turns to collect the stack of papers from his desk. In the meanwhile, you put your blazer on and start to clear away your things at an unhurried pace, waiting for everyone else to clear the room before you ask Mr Miller about what happened this morning with the boys. Chelsea’s ready to go, looking at you expectantly.

“Chels, I’ll meet you outside. I wanna ask him something.” She nods in understanding and offers a knowing wink as she leaves. 

The almost vacant classroom suddenly feels stuffy as if it will swallow you whole. Mr Miller has his back to you, shuffling and organising his already messy desk as you approach him.

“Umm, hi, Mr Miller…” you start, nibbling on your lip so hard you almost draw blood. You hear your blood pumping in your ears, heart pounding like a relentless drum.

“Oh, sorry darlin’ I didn’t realise you had a question,” he turns and sits, leaning back in his office chair, relaxed. “How can I help?” A dangerous question for your little wound up mind. I don’t know, maybe bend me over on that desk right there and fuck me so hard I forget my name?

“Uh, no, actually. It’s about something that happened this morning.” You say instead, taking a seat on the edge of the desk closest to his. Mr Miller’s expression changes, a mixture of concern and confusion, unsure of what you’re referring to. Thumbing the sleeve of your blazer, you begin to explain. “I think it was you I overheard dealing with a group of lads being a bit gross this morning…” you trail awkwardly, dropping his eye contact, hoping he catches on.

“Oh yeah, I remember now. What about it?”

“I just wanted to say thank you for sticking up for me, I—err—appreciate it.” 

“ Oh… ” Realisation washes over him and he sits up in his chair. “Those boys were bothering you , huh? I’m sorry they were being like that. Ain’t right to talk to a lady like that,” he murmurs, his finger grazing against his bottom lip. The way he says it, dripping with charm, makes your heart swoon.

“You don’t need to apologise for them, they’re dickheads, anyway.” You offer a soft chuckle, feeling a little awkward about the situation.

“Dickheads they might be darlin’, but they needed to learn a lesson on how t’be respectful. Guess they don’t teach that over here.” He shrugs nonchalantly and a slim smile appears briefly on his lips.

Leaning forward in his chair he perches elbows on his knees, his large hands interlaced, he catches your eye and looks at you intently. “They bother you again, you tell me, alrigh’? I will deal with them.” He murmurs, voice deepening, eye contact unwavering. “I’m serious. Any word or comment, you come to me .” 

Shit. I’ll come for you if you want. You swallow hard and you feel slick arousal begin to dampen your underwear again in response to his command. 

“Yeah, ‘course. I’ll let you know,” you try your best to sound unaffected by his commanding allure.

“Not a problem, darlin’. Now, get outta here and enjoy the rest of the day.” His smile is like a gentle caress, as warm as his gaze. He rises from his chair to see you out. You hop off the desk, bag slung over your shoulder and walk over to the door.

“One last thing,” he stops just short of the door, his tall frame towering over you. You look up to him; you guess he’s shy of 6 foot. He holds the pink, sparkly ‘Birthday Girl’ badge from Chelsea, still attached to your blazer, like he was inspecting it. 

Your mouth forms a small ‘o’ shape in realisation and you sigh softly, attempting to hide your embarrassed face before meeting his gaze. “It was my 18th on Sunday and my friend got me this because she missed it, and made me wear it all-day.” You let out a nervous laugh, realising how silly the situation was to explain aloud to your teacher.

A lingering smile tugs at his lips, his eyes flitting down and up your body. “Well,” he pauses, his voice dropping to a low murmur, his thumb brushing against the colourful badge before his hand grazes down your arm, sending a jolt through your body. “Happy birthday for Sunday, darlin’, I hope you got everything you wanted,” he coos.

You have to swallow hard to stop yourself from letting out a whimper in response, aching for him to touch elsewhere instead.

Your thoughts are spinning like a record of the things you can’t say right now; I want you for my birthday, that would be the best present. I want you to touch me, suck my tits, fuck me, make me cum before you ruin me. Make me feel like no one else has. I wanna make you feel so good, I wanna be good for you. I’ll be so good, I promise. 

“T-Thanks,” you stutter, breath hitching. You excuse yourself before you let illicit thoughts pour out of you and make your way to the car park to meet Chelsea. Your head is spinning, replaying the interaction over and over; the sound of his gruff voice, the way he looked at you, his light touch over your blazer, the way he had you like putty in his hands. It drowns yet excites you, teetering on edge between being turned on and utterly overwhelmed, the cruel truth dawning on you.

You have a crush on your teacher and you’re probably—definitely—absolutely fucked.

Thank you for reading this to the end! If you enjoyed please extend a like or reblog (with a comment if you'd like, I love reading them <3) to support writers, it helps a ton!💞

[creadigol]

Hello i just recently found this blog and i'm in love with your writing.

Can you please continue the hero x villain story with the criminal please?

I am so sorry for the long wait…but here it finally is! Thank you so much for the ask! I hope y’all like part 2! 

*Warning for slight flashbacks of a traumatic event, but nothing bad.

Part One here.

“Once again Detective, I have no answers to your questions, I have no clue where they are, and if you don’t leave my property within the next thirty seconds I claim the right to shoot you for trespassing.” 

 Hero heard the voice below them speak with little attempt at patience. Their eyes were heavy and their body felt like lead, but their ears seemed to awaken with no problem. Why would Villain be threatening to shoot Detective? Hero had thought the two tended to keep out of each other’s way. Wait, why was Hero asleep in the same vicinity as Villain in the first place? 

“I know you have them! All accounts place you following Hero into the house! Dammit Villain! What happened?” 

God, Hero had never heard Detective so worked up before. The man was usually made of stone, even in the face of absolute evil. Hell, Hero once saw the man play a game of russian roulette with a mob boss and win through sheer intimidation. How had Villain got him so worked up? Of course they were enemies, being on opposite sides of a moral code tended to do that…but they had never been outright hostile to each other. 

“Fifteen…sixteen…seventeen…” Villain counted. Hero could just picture them casually looking at their watch while unholstering a weapon. 

“Fine!” Screamed Detective. “But don’t think I won’t be back! I’ll not rest until Hero is found!” 

Hero heard the stomping of boot heels on the walk. 

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have lost them in the first place!” Villain yelled back. 

“Fuck you!” 

Hero fought to open their eyes. They moved their fingers and toes, feeling like they were some kind of mummy awakening after centuries of death. 

What was Detective talking about? Hero was right here. They had just finished up another case for them when…

The memory flashed before their eyes…the Criminal…the knife…that goddamn smile as Hero bled onto the kitchen floor…the fear…Villain!

No amount of lead in their veins could keep them down at the thought. Hero shot out of the plush bed with speed their body was not ready for. 

The window to their right was open, that must be how they heard the conversation at the front door, and Hero stumbled towards it. It took a moment, as their foot got caught in the exceptionally soft bedspread, but they made it. 

Hero stood to the side, not wanting anyone outside to see them in such a state of weakness…nor did they want Detective to see them…and looked out. Sure enough, this was Villains street…at least this was the street of their safe house. Hero had found it six months ago while following Villain after a deal gone wrong. They had just wanted to make sure Villain wasn’t too beat up…they ended up staying all night wrapping the Villains wounds. 

Hero assumed Villain would have changed houses after that. Guess not. 

Hero watched as Detective stomped angrily to his silver sedan. Now how had Detective found the safe house? And why did he not just raid the place? Why put up with Villain’s taunts if he knew Hero was here? 

Hero took stock of the room. It was a nice bedroom, rather typical. Blue walls and a matching white and blue quilt. There was a small dresser, night stand and desk that looked like they were bought together at the local Big Lots. Nothing expensive, like how Villain usually liked. Nothing gleaming of elegance or gilding. Nothing special…but comfortable. Actually really comfortable. And kind of cute. 

Nothing at all like Villain. 

A shuffling outside the bedroom door made Hero stiffen. The door opened revealing Villain, still muttering to themselves about ‘nosy, pain in the ass detectives’. Hero stayed frozen by the window. 

Villain was carrying a tray with a sup and bowl on it, something steaming from the bowl when they glanced at the bed and saw it was empty. 

“Shit!” They swung around frantically, somehow not spilling anything, and immediately laid eyes on Hero. 

“Hero!” Villain gasped. They placed the tray on the nightstand as the tension in their shoulders released. “What in the hell are you doing up? Do you have any idea wha…”

“Where am I?” Hero interrupted them. Villain froze. “What the hell is going on?” 

Villain’s eyebrows scrunched. “Hero…” They started. “Do you remember what happened? I mean, I understand if not…” 

“Of course I remember,” Hero snapped. “But that does not explain why I’m in your safe house or why Detective was here.” 

“Fuck. I knew his voice carried,” muttered Villain. They looked at Hero, seeming to take in their appearance, which Hero felt was probably not great. “You were stabbed Hero. It was bad…really bad. I had to heal you, but…” Villain gestured vaguely. 

“You redirected my body’s energy to heal the wound,” Hero finished. That’s why they were sleeping. That’s why they had no energy to spare. 

“You should still be out,” Villain said as they walked forward. “I estimated at least another week, if not more. Had planned on Doctor giving you an IV tonight.” 

Hero looked down at themselves and took stock of their appearance. Their hair was down, though that had happened during their scuffle with Criminal, and their arms were bruised. Finger prints littered their wrists and elbows. They lifted the front of their t-shirt and glanced at their stomach. Only a slight discoloration showed any sign of the life threatening injury they had received. 

“How long was I out?” 

“Four days. Detective’s been following me incessantly after they couldn’t find you in that damn house.” 

Villain had walked to only an arm's length away. Seeming reluctant to come any closer, yet holding themselves as if to reach out. 

“Followed you here I see,” Hero said. They traced their fingers over the discoloration on their stomach. 

“Unfortunately.” 

Hero let the shirt fall back down and only then comprehended their attire.

“Did you dress me in your pajamas?” Hero asked incredulously. 

Villain laughed, “Well your clothes were ruined and there wasn’t much else here.”

“You didn’t…” Hero gave them a look that promised quick vengeance should they hear the wrong answer to their question. 

“I was perfectly professional, I assure you. Nothing but doctoring on my part.” Villain clapped them on the shoulder. “You should get back to bed though. You still need time to recover.” 

Hero was feeling faint standing, so they agreed and got back into the bed. They got situated under the covers, but sat up by the headboard. Villain stood hovering for a moment before stepping back.

“Why did Detective need to follow you? Why not just tell him I’m here?” Hero eyed Villain as they fiddled with the covered steaming bowl, “Not like saving my life is very illegal. Unless you..you know.” 

Hero didn’t finish as they thought about Villain’s words to them before they passed out. 

Best not to look to your right though…you have too fair a disposition to look at Criminal now.

“Criminal’s alive,” Villain spoke as if reading their mind. “Did my best, but the bastard lived.” 

Hero felt their insides freeze. 

You really are perfect aren't you?

Let’s not prolong this dear. 

“They’re secured in the hospital ward of the prison.” Villain sat down on the edge of the bed and placed their hand over Hero’s pale one. “You got enough for the case while you were undercover. Better than a confession.” 

Villain made eye contact, “They’re never getting out Hero. And if they did, I would finish the job.” 

Hero smiled softly. “I have no doubt you would finish the job now if I asked.” 

Villain chuckled, “Wouldn’t be the worst job I ever took.” 

“But why Detective?” Asked Hero. 

“But why Detective what?” Villain said. They patted Hero’s hand and got up to go back to the tray once more. 

“Why lie about saving me?” 

Villain took the top off the bowl and Hero saw that it contained hot water and a white cloth. 

“Should have known you’d have heard that. Damn hearing.” 

“Why?” Hero pressed. 

Villain handed them a hair tie. “Because I don’t trust him. Or at least I don’t trust who he works for.” 

Hero pulled their hair into a bun. “Why?”

Villain swirled the cloth through the water a couple of times. Hero could smell what they assumed were salts or oils mixed in. 

“They never should have called you in,” Villain spoke.

Hero reached out for the cloth, “They call me in all the time.” 

The cloth stayed in Villain’s hand, submerged in water. “They don’t for the petty stuff.” 

“Well this wasn’t exactly petty. Criminal was the killer we’ve been looking for.” 

“Exactly!” The water sloshed with Villain’s outburst. “All the victims look like you. All the Criminal’s ‘types’ look like you. Every outfit, hair style, and mannerism was just like you. Criminal’s had an obsession for a while Hero and those bastards banked on it.” 

Hero faltered. 

“You’re saying they tricked me to get them?” 

“I’m saying something’s going on and until we figure it out you’re not safe to go back.” 

Hero went silent for a few moments.

“Damn.” They finally whispered.

Villain handed them the warm cloth. “Yeah…damn.” 

The scent infused water felt heavenly on Hero’s neck and face. They wondered if this was how Villain kept them clean while they slept. 

“So what do we do?” 

“You,” Villain pointed, “rest. At least for the next couple of days.”

“And you?” Hero handed the cloth back. 

“I’m going to pay the good Commissioner a little visit this week.” 

[inkpot909]

You Gotta Buy Them a Rose… (Kakyoin x Reader Headcanons)

↳ Headcanon list of how the other Crusaders advise Kakyoin on how he should ask you out. Gender neutral Reader with they/them pronouns. Everyone lives AU. Polnareff and Avdol are written as a couple because it’s canon.

A/n: This idea came to me late at night and I physically couldn’t stop working on it until I was done. The Crusaders are all disasters and Kakyoin is especially so for thinking asking them for relationship advice is a good idea. Hope y’all enjoy!

Warning(s): Canon-typical swearing.

There’s no point in denying it: Kakyoin’s fallen head over heels for you.

And although the feeling is a foreign one, it’s not unwelcome. Suddenly, all music gushing about a love dropping into one’s life unexpectedly makes complete sense to him. Every gushy line, every cliché- it all circles back to you in his mind.

Kakyoin’s confident… mostly.

While a part of him does fear rejection, his main concern is how to even approach asking you out. As much as those previously mentioned picture-perfect serenades remind him of you, they’re not exactly something to rely on. Especially not movies or TV shows.

He doesn’t necessarily want to wait for you to ask him, figuring that since he likes you, he should man up and ask himself. Truly, he does want to take the initiative.

So, he goes to the other Crusaders for advice. After all, they’re his closest circle of friends. At the very least, he knows he’d pull honest answers each of them…

#1: Joseph Joestar

Well… he is married, after all.

That was Kakyoin’s line of reasoning. It’s not a bad assessment to make. Sure, Mr. Joestar is a little goofy at times. But clearly, whatever he’s doing has got to work… right? 

Clearing his throat first, Kakyoin asked Mr. Joestar on what he thinks he should do.

The elderly man’s eyes lit up almost instantly, and a wide grin followed. His immediate excitement brought a smile to Kakyoin’s face as well, a little touched by the sincerity of Mr. Joestar’s glee.

So what went wrong? He started talking.

He began detailing how “delicate” the development of romance is. That he’s got to flirt and flirt and flirt and flirt. All while boasting about how Kakyoin went to the right person despite very clearly having no clue what he was talking about.

“Just tell me… what worked for you, Mr. Joestar?”

“Well, I flirted with her- that’s key. I won her heart with my smooth charisma. Then… uh… don’t remember exactly what happened after that. But! I know she nursed me back to health after I got injured and then we got married. Yeah… that’s pretty much what happened. I think.”

“Wait… you never asked Mrs. Joestar out on a date before marrying her?”

“No.”

“Have you asked anyone on a date before?”

“Yes… uh, maybe. I don’t really remember.”

Mortified; Kakyoin was absolutely mortified.

After sitting through Mr. Joestar’s lecture, Kakyoin politely gave him his thanks. With a forced smile, he told him he’d think over his advice.

The old man seemed pleased with that, at least.

Truthfully, the only thing Kakyoin thought over after the conversation was why on earth he asked a man who got married in the 1930s for relationship advice.

#2: Muhammad Avdol

Okay, okay… so Mr. Joestar’s advice wasn’t Kakyoin’s speed. That’s fine. It was sort of nice hearing about Mr. Joestar’s youth (Kakyoin’s doing his best to stay positive).

Honestly, he doesn’t know what he was thinking. Going to Mr. Joestar first…? Really?

Surely Avdol would give him better advice. He is much more levelheaded, and it’s likely in part due to that quality that his relationship with Polnareff is sailing smoothly.

Plus, the two didn’t get married after a couple of months at most! Now we’re talking.

Avdol seemed humbled at the question; grateful that Kakyoin trusted him enough to ask.

The two shared a laugh over Mr. Joestar’s goofy approach to giving advice. The two adults are old friends, and Kakyoin couldn’t help himself. He knew Avdol would get a kick out of it.

Afterwards, Avdol went on to offer his own wisdom on the subject. It’s as straightforward as it gets. His attitude on the matter is simply, “Just go ahead and ask them out.��

His reasoning is that worrying about waiting too long or fussing over the perfect moment is just going to cause more anxiety to fill his mind. He understood the worry; we were all 17 once. But (a bit ominously) Avdol warned he’d likely regret procrastinating.

It’s something Kakyoin definitely needed to hear.

Out of everyone, Avdol’s advice is the most reasonable. That said, Kakyoin can’t help but feel like he should still do something besides just asking. Because he genuinely thinks you deserve something sweet- something thought out.

He told Avdol this, and the Egyptian man hummed while tapping his chin. After mulling it over for a moment, he turned back to Kakyoin with a smile.

“Would you like me to do a tarot reading on it?”

#3: Jean Pierre Polnareff

Kakyoin’s getting desperate.

The tarot reading was interesting, though. According to Avdol, the odds are in his favor. That said, he’s not going to leave this up to fate only.

And there’s no wingman in the world better than Polnareff.

He’s known about Kakyoin’s feelings for you for a long time. Although annoying at times, the Frenchman is usually very perceptive when it comes to romance (in any relationship other than his own). He was the first to ever say something about it, much to Kakyoin’s chagrin.

When Kakyoin finally came to him for help, Polnareff was just as ecstatic as Mr. Joestar had been.

He’s quick tease the teen about it, going on and on about how it was “only a matter of time before you’d need my expertise.” The more he talked, the more Kakyoin regretted his decision.

That said, the redhead does admit that Polnareff brought up one interesting point.

“Environment.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s not so much how you ask them out- but where.”

Polnareff says that scenic surroundings certainly adds to the mood and may even heighten his confidence beforehand. Not only that, but taking you somewhere with the intention of asking you out shows implicit initiative. It shows care; which is something Polnareff is sure you’ll recognize.

The advice was quite sound, to Kakyoin’s surprise. At this point, he wasn’t expecting much. Too bad Polnareff- much like Mr. Joestar -was too busy boasting most of the conversation.

Towards the end of their discussion, Polnareff assured Kakyoin that it would all be good. He would know! He knows all about relationships. He did ask Avdol out, after all. Just as he said that, Avdol walked in with a raised eyebrow.

“You didn’t ask me out. I did; after weeks of you walking circles around me.”

Polnareff cleared his throat, and was damn near ready to start shoving Kakyoin out the door. “Okay! Thanks for the talk Kakyoin; remember what I said! See you later then!”

#4: Jotaro Kujo

“Good grief… why the hell are you asking me that?”

Honestly, Kakyoin has no idea himself.

What was he thinking? His best friend’s clear disinterest in romantic relationships is the reason why he went to the others in the first place. Why ask Jotaro for relationship advice?

Ask Jotaro for relationship advice… it doesn’t even sound right.

That said, Kakyoin’s still a bit bitter about it. If not, at least petty. He decided afterward that the next time Jotaro goes to him looking for advice, he’ll give him the same exact response.

[1800-fight-me]

City Streets

Aemond Targaryen x female!reader

Part Two - Castle Hallways

Rating: T

Warnings: Canon typical discussions of depravity? Idk there really aren’t any for this one y’all it’s fluff

Word count: Almost 1k

Synopsis: You accidentally bump into the prince on the streets of King’s Landing. 

Author’s note: I wrote this quickly this afternoon and only read it through once because this idea took hold of me and wouldn’t go away until I wrote it lol hope y’all like it! 

P.S. Here’s a link to my masterlist if you’d like to check out my other writing! My askbox and taglist are always open! Come interact with me! Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

Aemond Masterlist  

You had a list of things to get in the market today but you were almost certain you took a wrong turn. 

You discovered that you most certainly had taken a wrong turn when you realized you were on the street of silk. 

You pulled out your list as you walked and thought about the quickest way to get all your items so you could return back home and read the book that was calling to you. 

“Oof sorry,” you mumbled as you bumped into a hooded man as he turned. 

Large hands reached out and grasped at your arms to secure your balance and prevent you from falling. 

“Thank you,��� you said breathlessly as you looked up at the man.  

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked at the handsome man’s face and met his gaze. 

“It is fine,” he said, his voice like honey, with a nod and he let go of you. 

Your eyes roamed his distinct angular face and something seemed vaguely familiar about him. 

But surely you would remember seeing a man this beautiful before. And he had an eye patch, which was peculiar, as well as a scar that crossed his brow, beneath the eyepatch, and reached his cheek. 

He turned back to his companion but at the flash of white hair beneath his hood you grabbed his arm.  

“Wait!” you exclaimed. 

He turned to look at you warily. 

You grinned. 

“You are Prince Aemond, are you not?” you asked and his eye widened in surprise. 

He looked around to assure no one heard you as he secured his hood back over his telltale white hair and you giggled. 

“It’s true, isn’t it?” 

He pursed his beautifully shaped lips and nodded at you. 

His companion was still distracted as he spoke to a woman in a doorway behind the prince. 

“Good gods, I should curtsy, shouldn’t I?” you started to attempt to do so but again his hands shot out and grabbed your upper arms. 

“Please don’t. We are trying to go unnoticed,” he said very seriously and you nodded. 

“Well is there anything I can help you with?” you asked, and felt a pang of sadness as he released you once again. 

You were sure you would never feel this level of excitement again outside of the pages of your books for as long as you lived. 

He sighed and looked back at his companion who shook his head at him. 

“Perhaps. We are looking for someone. Do you have any idea where in the city men of depravity find themselves?” he asked and he seemed almost embarrassed to pose the question. 

“Here, my prince,” you said, confusion in your voice as you gestured at the building behind him. 

“No, someplace worse,” he said. 

“Surely you do not want to-“ 

“It is essential that we find this person,” he urged and you nodded. 

“Yes, I know where you may look, but I can only lead you most of the way. I will not go inside,” you said seriously and he nodded in understanding. 

He looked back at his companion and indicated his head at him to follow the two of you. 

You held your hand out and he took it in his large calloused hand and you led him through streets and alleyways towards the place in King’s Landing that you most avoided. 

You were close to the place when he suddenly hissed, “King’s Guard.” 

He pressed you up against a wall and buried his face in your throat. 

His companion ducked into a nearby alley and pretended to relieve himself. 

“Wrap your arms around me,” the prince ordered you and you were more than happy to comply with his instructions as the puff of his breath on your neck made you shiver. 

“Are they gone?” he whispered and his nose brushed your sensitive skin as he spoke. 

“Yes, they appear to be heading in the same direction as us,” you murmured back.

He pulled back enough to look into your face. 

“Perhaps we should linger a moment longer to ensure they do not notice us following,” he said. 

He saw the confusion on your face and he explained. “They are looking for the same person we are, so this is good, we must be on the right trail,” he said. 

You looked up at him, distracted by his gorgeous looks. “You are much more handsome than people say,” you blurted out. 

He smirked. 

“Let’s continue,” he said as he took your hand and allowed you to lead him once again. 

After a few more streets you stopped and he and his companion stopped with you. 

“It is that building there,” you said and you pointed ahead. 

His companion continued ahead as the prince nodded at you. 

“I do not know exactly what occurs there, but beware. I have heard it is truly awful. This is as far as I will go,” you said and he squeezed your hand before he let it go. 

“Thank you, my lady,” he said. 

“O-of course, my prince,” you said, in awe that a prince of the realm thanked you and called you a title you absolutely were not worthy of. 

“What can I do to repay you?” he asked and you shook your head. 

“Nothing, it was my pleasure,” you said bashfully. 

He reached for your hand and took it in his. 

He then lifted it enough to press his perfect lips to the back of your hand and you could not hide how flustered you felt. 

He smirked at you once again before he turned on his heel and left. 

You stared at his retreating form and knew this was a story no one in your life would ever believe. 

You squealed in happiness as you turned and headed off to finally complete your list of tasks. 

Everything taglist:

@spideysimpossiblegirl @dinandgone @ohpedromypedro @littlemisspascal @tombraider42017 @kirsteng42 @just-here-for-the-moment @salome-c

Aemond taglist:

@fultimefangirl @dumpsterfirecee @adderess @flowerpotmage @theold-ultraviolence @lady-phasma @aemonds-war-crime @schniiipsel​ @mommyslittlewarcriminal​

[okskz]

New Year, New Date.

mia + hongjoong

mia finally agrees to go on a date with hongjoong, making her decide what she really wants.

the update I hope y’all were waiting for. please feel free to leave some feedback, it’s always appreciated! remember, requests are OPEN!

[9th member of stray kids]

mia looked at herself through her vanity mirror that she had in her room. adding some final touches to her makeup. she was getting ready to out with hongjoong, finally agreeing on that date he had been wanting to take mia on.

to say mia was nervous was an understatement as it had been awhile since the girl went on a date. of course she had been on dates with changbin but none of them made her nervous like how she felt at the moment. if anything, her date with changkyun was the last one she could remember that made her feel this way. even then, she remembered the kiss her and changbin shared that night.

changbin.

mia let out a small sigh as she stared at the picture frame she had with the photo of them two, never realizing how hard she was staring at it.

they were still messing around in secret, she wasn’t even sure what to call it. changbin showed no signs on asking mia to be his girlfriend again. it didn’t bother her at first but as time passed and she her hanging out with hongjoong became more frequently, a tiny part of her thought it was time to move on from changbin. especially since a tiny part of her also began to develop small feelings for him.

mia already knew how hongjoong felt towards her. and the last thing she wanted to do was lead him on not knowing where she really stood with changbin.

but tonight was going to answer everything, on how mia truly felt and want she wanted to do.

the girl sprayed some perfume on her, being the final thing she needed to do and stood up to look at herself through her large body mirror that was placed in the corner of her room. she smiled at herself as she smoothed out her white knitted dress then placed a black coat around her.

now, here came the hard part. trying to leave without getting questioned from the boys.

they were all together in the living room. it being a night where they all came to one dorm to be with each other. some were chatting, while others played video games. typical night for them. it didn’t help that she had ti go through the living room to leave the dorm.

so with her being mia, she swiftly went through them. “going out, see you all later.” she said as she grabbed her purse, the attention now on her.

“woah woah what?” minho said first. “you can’t go out! you’re hanging out with us!”

“I never agreed to that.” mia chuckled as she crossed her arms. “plus you guys were sure having a lot of fun without me being present.”

“where are you going at least?” jeongin questioned.

“just hanging out…” mia chewed at the inside of her mouth, jeongin’s question making her slightly nervous. “..with some friends.” she lied.

minho let out a laugh. “you don’t even have friends. we’re your friends.” the rest of the group laughed.

“I do too!”

“right…” minho laughed again. “could have fooled me, you look like you’d be going on a date dressed up like that.”

hyunjin noticed mia’s face expression change from minho’s words. “well I’m just a girl!” mia slammed the door shut, wanting to leave the dorm as fast as she could.

“something is off about her.” minho said.

***

“do they really question everything you do?” hongjoong slightly chuckled. mia rolled her eyes as she walked next to him, the two strolling down a carnival.

“yes!” mia exclaimed. “they’re like the older and younger brothers I never wanted.” mia laughed. “but I wouldn’t want it any other way. I know they do it to be funny… sometimes. I do know I can rely on them to have my back though.”

the two were munching on some popcorn, deciding to have a snack first before getting on any rides.

“enough about them. I saw you guys are going to perform as coachella this year. how great is that?”

“the group and I still can’t believe it.” hongjoong grinned. “we’re very excited about it though.”

“it’s very exciting!” mia cheered. “I’m so happy for you all- oh my god, the carousel!” the girl’s eyes brighten from seeing the ride. she instantly grabbed hongjoong’s hand, dragging him towards the direction of the ride.

“I’m assuming this is your favorite ride?” hongjoong questioned as the two walked through the ride to find a horse to get on.

“mostly definitely.” mia answered. she found one that she liked, hongjoong helping her to get on it. “always has been since I could remember.” hongjoong got on the one next to her as mia looked around at the lights and seeing others get on as well.

“thank you for coming on this date with me.”

mia softly smiled at hongjoong as the ride began. “you don’t know the feeling I got when you said yes.”

“sorry it took so long-“

“no need to apologize, I knew you weren’t ready and I understand. now I’m just hoping I don’t mess up so you can agree to go on a second date with me.”

“we’ll see how the night ends.” mia winked. “so far so good.”

after the ride, the two got on a few more rides, mia becoming thrilled with adrenaline from the rollercoaster they had just gotten off from. “gosh, mia. I don’t know how you enjoyed that.”

hongjoong placed an arm around mia, playfully leaning against her. mia chuckled. “oh come on, it wasn’t that bad.”

the two walked around, strolling some more. the carnival games were coming into view and hongjoong slowly stopped when hearing the music, hearing a familiar voice. “hey, who’s that on the speaker?”

mia looked up at hongjoong confused until she heard the song, and it was in fact her voice. “that’s me!” she squealed, hearing s-class playing. they were too into the music until hearing a man from a game stand. “come on up and play! all you gotta do is knock these three sets of bottles down and you win a prize for your lady.”

mia blushed as she looked up at hongjoong. “you don’t have-“

“oh I’m going to!”

mia stood next to hongjoong. the boy looked very focused. as he threw the first ball and ended up knocking down the bottle. “yes!” he tried again for the second and knocked it down as well. mia cheered for him

but on his third try, he had no luck.

“try again?”

hongjoong nodded, giving the man more money to try again. except this time hongjoong didn’t knock any of the bottles down. he tried for two more times and still no luck.

“hongjoong, I think that’s enough. you’re going to spend all your money here.” mia chuckled.

“one more try!” hongjoong said. he was determined to win mia a prize.

“hongjoong-“

the boy placed more money down, shaking himself off before throwing the ball and knocking down the bottle. he succeeded on the second one. “one more, mia.” he chuckled.

“you got this, son.” the man said, smiling at him.

hongjoong took a second before throwing the ball and to his surprise, he knocked the bottle down. “YEAH!” he cheered, wrapping an arm around mia and slightly picking her up. “you did it!”

“alright, which one would you like miss?”

mia looked at her options and her eyes landed on a big, tan, teddy bear. “that one, please.” she grinned.

the man got it for her, handing the bear to mia. “you have one dedicated boyfriend.”

mia chuckled as she looked back at hongjoong whose face was turning red, shaking his head. “he’s pretty great, isn’t he?” mia played along, winking at hongjoong. he became even more flustered as mia walked next to him. “thank you for this, but you didn’t have to continue all those tries”

“I couldn’t have my date be empty handed.” hongjoong said as he swung his arm around mia. “I knew I had to win it for you.”

mia smiled at him once more, hugging on her new bear tightly.

“one last ride before we head home?”

mia nodded her head, agreeing. “ferris wheel?”

and that’s exactly the ride they got on. it was a two seater one and mia had placed her bear next to her as she sat next to hongjoong.

“I had a really great time today.” hongjoong said.

“me too. it felt a little nice being away from my group members.” mia laughed.

“so does this mean I can take you on a second date?”

“hmm.” mia hummed, she didn’t know what came over her, but mia decided to be a little bold with her next actions. “I’ll give you my answer after this.”

“after what-“ hongjoong was slightly taken back when mia pressed her lips on his, kissing him softly. hongjoong didn’t waste time from kissing mia back.

the kiss sent butterflies down to mia’s stomach, feeling so intense that it was a new feeling she never felt before. kissing hongjoong felt right and naturally to her. mia knew what she wanted.

they broke apart, mia smiling at him. “woah.” hongjoong said, catching his breath. “woah.” mia laughed. “you can definitely take me on a second date.”

hongjoong said nothing more, going back to kiss mia again as the ride continued to move, ending their date.

mia was ready to move on.

[c-h-e-r-r-i-e-s]

Kinktober - Choso

This is trash and I’m a raccoon.

I don’t know how to explain my feral behavior but this idea came to me thanks to a mutual who said they wanted more blood and I agree.

TW: Canon typical blood? Idk y’all it’s just gross. But there’s no bodily harm to reader. Hope this helps!

You dodge a blow to the head by a centimeter or 2. You’re fighting this stupid curse with Choso. His hands are covered in his own blood from his cursed technique. He usually stayed relatively clean but any time he had to pull a nebula out it was messy.

His hands coated in the sticky red liquid up to his elbows. Looking hot and kicking ass. Finally Choso takes the thing down. He runs towards you and instinctively wraps his hands around your waist not caring if he’s left hand prints on your shirt.

Full of adrenaline you pull him into your chest for a hug. He picks you up in the embrace and kisses you hard. Lips pressing together in the shared joy of the win.

Choso sets you back on the ground softly. Both of your gazes meet each other in a knowing stare. Both of you had agreed that it could be fun to use each other. He wanted practice and to feel good. You needed to blow off steam. It made for a few post battle fucks that we’re beyond compare.

This time you call Ijichi requesting a clean up on all this while you and Choso get to your home in a lusty haze.

——————

Routine setting in, you both head for the bathroom. Stripping while waiting for the water to heat up. All the while Choso’s hands are all over your body. Meeting in sloppy kisses when you can.

He presses your back against the wall and his hands meet your hips. Massaging circles into your skin with his blood covered hands. He knows you love this, he loves it. Your mostly white bathroom makes it look like a crime scene.

A hand print is smeared on your jaw as he kisses you. Cupping your cheek while his mouth hungrily sucks you in. Lips and teeth clash still high from the fight. Both of you pouring your energy into each other. Bodies pressed together, he stands over you and it’s like you’re trying to consume each other.

He’s already rutting into your stomach. In a practiced motion you’re playing with his dick, toying with the tip while he starts moving his lips down your neck. Sucking and licking the sensitive skin below your jaw.

“Choso please” you call in a hushed whine.

“Your wish is my command.” He stutters out. Reaching between your legs he guides one leg up. Holding it up with his arm by the bend in your knee. Other hand is playing with your clit now. There’s so much wetness from the blood on his hands but it feels so good. Sloppily he chases your high. His fingers run over your slit and teases your entrance.

You’re spread wide for him and all he wants is to do is see you let go. His warm kisses are on your neck and chest while he’s rolling your clit between two fingers. You’re hot from all the stimulation and the fog from the shower.

Just before you reach your climax he slides himself into you, slotting his cock in its home for tonight. He fucks you slow and deep while you’re both standing. One bloody hand comes to play with your nipple which sends you over the edge. Rolling the bud between his fingers and smearing red over the creamy skin of your breast. Letting out soft pants and moans while Choso is heating up every inch of you.

Your legs burn from the orgasm and the stretch, nipples and neck hot and flushed from his actions. Making you both feel so good with his length pushing in and out of you still.

You giggle a crazed laugh looking over both of your bodies.

“Fuck Choso we’re a mess”

“Shower” is all he says as he parts your bodies.

Stepping into the walk-in shower the heat of the water washes over you and there’s red tinted water running down the drain already. Choso grabs your waist from behind and starts splashing water to clean his hands and your neck. Sensually running his hands over the soft skin. Pushing you both under the hot spray of the shower his lips meet your skin again.

Eager to continue what you started , you rub your ass on his erection. Getting the hint he bends you over and pushes inside again. Connecting your bodies while the stains of the fight are washed away.

You use the wall to stabilize yourself while he fucks into you from behind. The hand prints on your waist are being washed away and the blood removed from his arms. All Choso is concerned with is chasing both your highs.

He gathers all your hair and tugs at it. Heat pools in you as you let out a hiss.

“God you look so good like this” he muses. Reverently rubbing circles in your lower back with one thumb while he drags himself out of you slowly. His hips snap back hitting your ass.

“Fuck meeee” you pant out at the harsh contact.

“Already am” he jokes in a breathy voice.

You let out a dry chuckle. His hands turn you around and run from your hips up your sides. “C’mere beautiful” he whispers against your lips as his now clean hands smooth over your cheeks. The wet hair that was sticking to your face is brushed away and clinging to your shoulders.

He reaches between your bodies to play with your clit again. Your body melts into his embrace as he pushes you against the wall. His strong arms pick you up and he presses back inside you. Intimately kissing feverish kisses and nips to your neck.

The shared intimacy of the moment makes your cheeks flush and your pussy gush. “So close Cho Please” you breathe out. He pulls at your nipple and kisses your mouth. The heat of the shower and your bodies together sending you over the edge. Your arms wrap around his neck and nails drag over his upper back. His hips stutter as he finishes inside you.

He gingerly sets you down, holding your waist for your stability. The rest of the shower is spent washing each others hair and ridding every crevice of blood and dirt.

Choso spends the night and cuddles you. The both of you wrapped up in each other and soft sheets. Sweetly fucking and ravaging one another through the night.

……….

@missphanosaur18

[pancakes4two]

SCANDALOUS GF IG PT 2 RN 💳💥💳!!💳💥!!

HI HI HI sorry it took me literally forever to do a part 2. hope this is worth the wait!!

PART ONE | MASTERLIST | TALK TO ME

people

100,211 likes

people You know I love you, babe.

Harry Styles and girlfriend Y/N L/N pack on the PDA after being spotted on a lunch date in Malibu. This comes just two weeks after the pair stirred up controversy for collaborating on a lingerie collection for Styles’ brand Pleasing. Hit the link in our bio for more.

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harryfan3 conveniently kissing in the middle of the street in front of a bunch of paps, nice

harryfan2 i don’t like who she’s turning him into.

harryfan1 this plus that childish ass ig post she uploaded last week? yikes

harrystan5 guys… can we please go back to having some class

harrygirl1 and we thought the olivia yacht pics were bad😭 now he’s making out in broad daylight

yourinstagram

Liked by harrystyles, emrata and 76,429 others

yourinstagram all i have to say

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emrata exactly 👏👏👏

yourbff at the end of the day she’s thriving

harrystyles 🖤

yourinstagram luuuuuuuuuuuv you 💋💋

Comments on this post have been limited.

harryflorals

80,827 likes

harryflorals Harry recently followed model Emrata on Instagram!

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harryfan1 uh

harryfan3 randomly???

harryfan4 i mean she’s not the greatest but i’d prefer her to y/n🫢

harrystan1 don’t get your hopes up😭 she’s like BFFs with y/n

harryforever he’s going on her podcast i have a friend who helps produce it lol

harryfan8 and what exactly does harry have to say on emrata’s podcast😭😭 that’s so random

emrata

Liked by yourinstagram, deuxmoi and 1,934,283 others

emrata Today on High Low w/ Emrata! I chat with Harry Styles about double standards and the difficulty of trying to correct a media narrative. Spoiler alert: he’s not too appreciative about the social media witch-hunt that’s currently directed at his girlfriend. Stream using the link in my bio.

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harryfan1 oh no. oh no. OH NO

harryfan7 i listened to the full hour podcast so y’all don’t have to lol. he basically told us to fuck off in the nicest way possible. when i get back home i’ll comment some direct quotes here

harrystan UHHHHHHHHHHH

harryfan7 he said: “It’s obviously hard when you’ve been in the public eye for so long, and people start to feel like you have some sort of obligation to them, or that they somehow know you on a deeply personal level and can dictate what you are or aren’t supposed to do. And that’s not to say everyone is guilty of falling into that mindset—certainly the vast majority of the internet displays nothing but kindness and grace. But I would be lying if I said it wasn’t disappointing to see the public reaction to… certain things lately. It’d be nice if those corners of social media could show a little more compassion, especially towards someone I love.”

harryfan9 honestly he has a point. like i’m definitely guilty of being harsh towards his gfs in the past but hearing him say that really put things into perspective for me

harryfan10 meh still think she’s problematic. yeah maybe we don’t know harry on a deeply personal level 🙄 but we’ve been fans of him for so many years and we know he typically doesn’t act like how he does with her. why is it wrong for us to comment on that?

harry’s instagram story:

TAGLIST: @crazygirlinthisworld @grapejuice-rry @b-reads-things @s8tellite @michellekstyles @vrittivsanghavi @alienorknight @flwrmuse

[multiphandommess]

Inanimate Anger

Requested by- @wosoobsessed

Request - Hiya ,when you get a chance would you be able to do a Natasha fic based on this video . https://youtu.be/aKEL1xiCWvQ?si=mXwOUTd0w9wm93Lc towards the end when she talks about like how angry she gets about like not being able to find a shoe🤣🤣🤣 I thought this would be funny if there was a fic based of the reader and Nat having an argument about Natasha blaming the reader for not being able to find her shoe before they go to dinner. And maybe it’s their oitnb cast wrap dinner so when they get there they are both like ignoring eachother cus they’re pissed off and then one of the cast members is drunk realises and interigates them about it. And then finally they make up and Natasha admits it was stupid to start an argument over a shoe and then the next day they are doing press and Nat talks about that argument while the reader is in the room. And the interviewer finds it really funny. so instead of Nat and the reader crying about it they laugh about it later on In bee 🤣🤣🤣

If you wanna get staticky to the part I’m thinking about skip to 18.55 cus it’s a pretty long interview I don’t wanna waste ur time 😂😂😂. Thank you tho !!

“YOU FUCKING PRICK!” was the first thing Natasha had said to me as I walked into her apartment to pick her up to go to the OITNB season 3 wrap cast-only dinner. We had been dating for about 6 months and I was baffled. Natasha had never yelled at me before and I was concerned, “Baby? What is wrong?” She was stomping around her apartment angrily, “Why the FUCK did you take my goddamn shoe?!” “What? Baby-” “Don’t call me that! You don’t deserve it, shoe thief! Fuck you!” She cut me off. “Natasha, we don’t wear the same shoe size. Besides, I just got here. What shoe are you looking for?” I replied, a bit concerned for my girlfriend. “My fucking boots! The black ones!” She said, continuing on her rampage. “The ones you wore when we went out for drinks with Laura and her husband, Ben? When we all got wine drunk? Maybe you just put them somewhere else-” “No! You fucking took them!” She said, cutting me off again. “Fuck you, Nat. I'm waiting in the fucking car. I hope you find your goddamn shoe in time,” I said. I was angry that she kept cutting me off, so I walked back down to my car, slamming the door to both her apartment and my car. 

10 minutes later, she got in my car. We drove in silence as we were both still pissed. We got to the restaurant and walked in, refusing to hold hands or any other physical contact. All of our fellow cast members were shocked, we were always touching in some way because my love language is physical touch. However, none of them said anything. As the dinner went on, we ignored each other and refused to talk to each other. Eventually, we all got drunk and Taylor was drunkenly rambling when she turned to us, “So, why are y’all pissy?” I looked up, “What?” She elaborated, “You guys are angry. You two won’t even look in each other's direction. And you guys typically steal each other's food or take sips of each other's drinks and yet, y’all have done none of that.” We were both speechless. “Um…” I started. “They took my shoes.” Nat finished. “No, I didn’t! Why would I even do that?!” I said. “B-because…w-well…” Nat said. “Exactly! I didn’t do shit! And you found them, did you not?” I said. “...fine, I lost my shoes, you didn’t do anything.” She admitted

A few weeks later, me and Natasha were at an interview. It was just her but she wanted me to come with her for moral support. I was sitting behind the camera and listening as I went over a script I had. They started to talk about mood swings and things that piss her off as she was clean from her addictions. This caught my attention. I stopped what I was doing and listened to what she said…and I nearly fell over laughing. I had to hold my hand over my mouth and leave the room as she began talking about her anger with inanimate objects and how she blamed it on other people. I stayed outside of the room until the interview was over because I was wheezing from laughing so hard. When she walked out, she saw the tears in my eyes and the fact I was still laughing. “Baby, are you ok?!” She asked, laughing as well. “I had no idea that that was just something you did!” I said, crouching on the floor with laughter. “I’m sorry, I should have let you know,” She said, pulling me off of the floor. I hugged her and pressed a short kiss to her lips, “It’s fine, just let me know next time you feel anger towards inanimate objects.”

[beautouslysandy]

Cars And Cupcakes

Steve Randle x GN!Reader

By- Sandy

Warning: A bit of language

Word Count- 492

Note- First time writing Steve, hope y'all like it!

-You and Steve are very different from eachother, he doesn’t mind getting messy and is disorganized you however are a very clean and neat individual, he isn’t very bright and you are a very clever person. I could go on forever but if there is something you guys can bond over it is cars and sweet treats. You love baking and aren’t to shabby at it, Steve loves your cupcakes.

“Okay…”You said softly as you carried a big brown box into DX

“Steve?!” You called as you set down the box carefully on the counter

“Y/N?” A familiar voice called in confusion

“Yes…”You replied as you saw Sodapop walking out of the garage. “Hey, Soda” You said with a smile, you going it was Steve but you obviously don’t say that

“You looking for Steve?” He asked with a smile

“Yeah” You replied with a soft smile “He’s back here working on car, come in” He said waving his hand towards to garage.

“Okay then” You said picking up the box and following Sodapop.

“Steve, Y/N’s here” Sodapop informs as he steps into the garage

You have only been back in the garage once, to fix up your car, or more so Steve fixing your car and you handing him the tools.

“Oh, hey babe!” Steve called joyful from under a car

“I have cupcakes!” You said with a cheery smile. You heard a bang from under the car “Shit!” You heard your boyfriend scream

“You good, Steve?” Sodapop asked with a painful face

“Yeah just hit my head on the engine.” Steve groaned as he wheeled out from under the car

He walked over after putting his tools back in the toolbox, he had a big red mark on his forehead.

“Oh god, I am so sorry” You sighed.

“Hey. You brought cupcakes, don’t be sorry about anything.” He said opening the box to show chocolate cupcakes with deep chocolate icing.

“My favorite!” Steve gleamed fist bumping Sodpop

You chuckled, you loved baking sweet treats for your boyfriend and surprising him with them. He always had the cutest face when he saw what kind they were, typically chocolate. “Thanks Y/N!” Sodapop cheered taking one

“Mhm, no problem Soda” You said glad Steve wasn’t going to be the only one eating them, if he did he would bouncing off the walls. “Hey! These are my cupcakes!” Steve said angrily

“Technically there Y/N’s cupcakes” Sodapop said laughing as he walked away eating the cupcake

“Thank you, Y/N! I love you!” He cheered as he took a cupcake or two and kissed you on the cheek

Your face got a little pink “You're welcome, where do you want me to place them, down?” You asked with a smile

“Over there, thanks babe.” He said sitting down a random stool.

“Your welcome.” You said placing the box down and heading over to Steve and placing a kiss on his cheek.

He kissed you on the lips “I love you.” is what he said after y’all’s lips parted.

“I love you too.” You said softly

“Wanna help me with the car?” He asked excitedly stuffing the cupcake in his mouth.

“Oh god, Steve. Yes I will help you with the car.” You laughed at your boyfriend childish ways.

Steve wheeled under the car agian and asked politely “Wrench, please” holding out his hand

“What’s that?” You asked confused

“Oh glory…” He chuckled

[vicsnook]

What Happened in Texas | Tim Riggings x Reader x Jake Seresin

word count: 3489

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI 18+

notes: Hey y’all! Hope everyone is doing well. Firstly, I just want to thank y’all for all the likes and reblogs ok my past works <3. I have been working on this two part series for a while and it’s finally finished! Like Wildest dreams, this will have two endings, one in which the reader ends up with Jake, and one in which the reader ends up with Tim. Both endings will be linked under their respective characters once posted. Hope y’all enjoy!! Don’t forget to like and reblog 🫶🏼. Lastly, I know the spelling of Seresin is different in both shows but for the sake of the plot let’s pretend its the same.

PART 1

Hangman’s family was having a big Fourth of July party and had invited everyone who worked with Jake so here you were about to board a plane to Austin, Texas. 

As you settled into your window seat, a handsome stranger sat down next to you. Usually, you’d be annoyed when a stranger puts their arm on your armrest but this time you didn’t mind. You reached for your headphones in your backpack only to realize they were a long way away in your apartment, still plugged into your laptop. 

“Let me guess, forgot your headphones?” asked the stranger next to you with an unmistakable Texas drawl. You nodded and smiled shyly at him. 

“I’m Tim,” he said, stretching out his hand for you to shake. You shook his hand and replied, “I’m y/n, nice to meet you.” 

“Pleasure’s mine. I don’t mind sharing my headphones darlin’ so long as you don’t mind watching the same thing I am.” He smiled, offering you one of his headphones which you graciously accepted.

“Thanks, Tim,” you muttered, turning your attention to the movie playing on the tiny screen in front of Tim's seat. 

—

As you landed in Austin, you handed Tim back his headphone. Both of you stood up once the plane was nearly empty and he handed you your bag from the overhead compartment. You smiled gratefully and then checked your phone to find a text from Hangman saying he would be there in about 40 minutes due to traffic. 

Rolling your eyes you disembarked the plane and made your way to the airport bar, grateful you didn’t have any baggage to claim. Looking up you caught Tim smiling at you from across the bar. You waved at him and he stood up and made his way over to you. 

“So, we meet again.”

“It would appear so, must be my lucky day” he replied, winking at you. You looked down to hide the blush that was creeping onto your cheeks. You downed the rest of your drink and ordered another one. The thought of being in a car alone with Jake was not something that excited you. You couldn't help but already regret coming. 

Tim told you about his ranch and how he was coming home from a business trip. You smiled, hanging on to his every word. Not long after though he told you he had to go and so you walked with him to the exit since Jake would be arriving soon anyway. As you reached the airport doors, you turned to Tim and thanked him for keeping you company. He said likewise and headed out to the parking lot. Leaving you to wait for Jake who thankfully pulled up not long after.

—

The ride was pretty quiet after the typical greetings. Jake casually hummed to the songs on the radio as you stared out the truck window at the fields, still thinking about Tim. You just couldn’t shake off something about him and regretted not getting his number. It didn’t matter now, you’d probably never see him again anyway.

“Hello? Earth to y/n?”

“Sorry, I zoned out, what’s up?” you said, raising your eyebrow at him curiously. He smiled at you and pointed ahead to a gas station.

“I’m gonna stop and get gas. Want anything?”

“No, thank you. How much longer til we’re there?” 

“About 15 minutes,” he replied as he got out to pump gas. You sighed, feeling ready to lay down on a bed and take a nap. Jake passed you a Dr. Pepper as he got back in and you smiled gratefully. Shaking your head you looked out the window trying to focus on the beautiful view and not on your memories with Jake. 

—

“Welcome to Dillon, Texas.” Jake smiled as he pointed to the water tower that you were driving by. You noticed all the national championship signs in the windows of the stores downtown. Jake sure wasn’t kidding when he said they were big on football here.

The dirt driveway was long, cows were inside the fences that lined up the road, and at the very end was a gorgeous ranch. As the truck came to a halt, you jumped out and looked around, mesmerized by all the beauty.

“You must be y/n!” squealed a woman from the porch who you recognized as Jake’s mom. You smiled as she pulled you into a hug. “I’m Nancy, Jake’s mama. It’s so nice to finally meet you, Jake’s told us a lot about you, honey.” 

“Only good things I hope,” you replied, following her into the huge house. “Of course. There’s a room set up for you right up the stairs to the left. Matty why don’t you show y/n to it?” she asked the man sitting on the couch. You smiled at her gratefully and followed the man up the stairs. Taking notice of all the photos of Jake on the wall. 

“This is it, By the way, I’m Matt, Jake’s cousin,” said the man as you shook his already extended hand and thanked him for showing you to your room.

Jake came in and set your bag at the foot of the bed soon after. “Make yourself comfortable. Oh and we’re meeting up with everyone in about an hour to go to the football game,” said Jake as you sat on the edge of the bed.

“What football game?” you asked. Jake grinned “It’s Friday night in Texas baby, we’ve got to go see the Dillon Panthers play.” The famous Dillon Panthers that he’d told you all about and whose shirt was somewhere back home in the bottom of your closet. 

You opted for a quick shower before leaving. The cool water felt great in the Texas heat. Even though your relationship had fizzled out a while back and not in the best way, you were glad Jake still tried to be nice. Quickly you headed downstairs when Nat texted that they were here.

Once outside, a pang of melancholy hit you. This could’ve been your life with Jake but fate had other plans. Nat pulled you out of your thoughts into a much-needed hug and whispered in your ear to ride with them to the stadium. You nodded and greeted Bob and Rooster.

“Y’all follow me to the stadium. There is a Hall of Fame building by it and I want to show y'all before the game.” Commanded Jake as Rooster turned the ignition.

“Sure thing, Bob here is gonna ride with you and we’ll take Y/N.” Nat told Jake as you slid in the backseat. His smile faltered for a second but he was quick to get into the truck and peel out the driveway before you could even give it a second thought.

—

You and Nat sang along to the radio while Rooster tried to follow Jake as best as he could. It didn’t help that the man drove like a bat out of hell but thankfully you all made it in one piece. 

Jake’s cousin, Matt was waiting by the doors for y’all and introduced everyone to his wife Julie before heading inside. Julie pointed out her father in one of the pictures,  he’d apparently coached Matt. Frowning, you bent down and stared at the picture of the 2006 champions, a familiar face poking out. 

“Hey Matt, who’s number 33?” you asked, trying to confirm your suspicions. “Oh, that’s Tim Riggins. Why?” he replied, staring at you curiously.

Everyone had now turned their attention to the both of you. “We met at the airport, that’s all.” You replied, turning to look at the next case and hoping that was the end of the conversation.

You smiled at Jake who was showing you a team picture from when his team won the national championship a couple of years after Matt’s team did. Following along you looked at all the memorabilia and listened to Jake go on about his glory days. 

As he reached the end of the hallway, everyone followed him out the doors and onto the stadium. Matt and Jake stopped to say hello to old friends so you and Bob decided to head for the concessions. The line thankfully was very short and it was a surprise to see who was working there.

“So we meet again, darlin,’” said Tim as Bob ordered popcorn and drinks for everyone. 

“It would appear so. You know, I’m here with Matt Seresin, he’s my coworker's cousin.” You replied, as you handed him cash for your stuff.

“Matty? I didn’t know he was in town. Can you have him come by later and say hi?” He asked, handing you your change. His hand lingering on yours a little longer than it needed to. “Uh, ye-yeah.” You stuttered. 

“Oh, and I’m throwing a party tonight too after the game. You and your friends should come. Matty knows my address.” He smiled, and you hollered yes in response as Bob was already dragging you through the growing crowd back toward the group. 

—

The Panthers were winning the game and Matt got up to go get a drink. You went with him and told him about Tim being at the concessions stand and the party. He agreed that everyone should go and you both parted before reaching the concessions stand as you had to use the restroom. 

The game ended not long after that and all of you gathered in the parking lot. Matt told everyone about the party and everyone agreed it was a good idea to go. So here you were now with Nat and Rooster once again, on the way to Tim’s.

“So, y/n, what’s this Tim guy like?” asked Nat, while fiddling with the radio trying to find a good station.

“Um, he’s nice. We met earlier today so I don’t really know much about him.” You replied, playing on your phone as she finally settled on a station.

You caught her eye in the rearview mirror and she gave you a knowing look. She always knew when you were holding back.

—

Tim’s ranch was beautiful. There was a line of parked cars all the way out to the gate. The party was in full swing as you all made your way in. Matt, Julie, and Jake split off to say hello to more old friends while Bob, Nat, Rooster, and you, headed for the kitchen to grab some beers. 

As you walked past the sliding door, you spotted Tim outside. He seemed to spot you as well since he got up and made his way to you. 

“You made it!” he exclaimed, pulling you in for a hug. “Sure did. Your home is beautiful, Tim.” You said while pulling away. He smelled like sandalwood and beer. A combination you didn’t know you liked until now.

“Want a tour?” he asked, motioning for you to follow him outside. “Sure!” you replied, following him.

He showed you the stables. Letting you feed a carrot to his horse. You involuntarily shivered as a breeze came through and he quickly took off his flannel and gave it to you. A blush crept into your cheeks as you took it and thanked him then you continued to follow him around.

The tour finally came to an end by the sliding door where it started. Bob waved at you from the other side when he spotted you. You waved back and then turned back towards the kitchen where Tim was. 

Time seemed to fly by as you and Tim sat on the couch and talked. Getting to know each other more and more. Both of you were unaware of anyone around you as it felt you were the only ones there.

“You know, I’m really glad you came tonight.” He said, leaning to set his beer bottle on the table beside you. “Yeah, me too.” You replied. His face was only inches away from yours as he set the bottle down.

You glanced down at his lips and then back up to his eyes. His hand reached up to cup your cheek and you closed your eyes. Feeling his lips on yours soon after. 

The butterflies in your stomach intensified when he deepened the kiss. Your tongues fighting for dominance as he leaned back and pulled you closer to him. 

Pulling away for air, both of you smiled at each other. It was only the sound of broken glass that startled you both out of the moment. Turning around you spotted Jake in the kitchen. His face stoic as he turned and walked outside leaving the broken beer bottle on the ground.

Shaking your head you turned back to Tim who was looking at you confused. “Um, so, where were we?” you asked, trying to break the tension. “Here, I’ll show you,”  he replied, pulling you in for another kiss. 

“Why don’t we go upstairs? Less chaos up there.” He asked, pulling away. “Sure,” you murmured, taking his outstretched hand and following him. 

You looked at the pictures on the wall as he led you down the hallway. Some with a guy you assumed was his brother as they looked similar. Most were just pictures of the ranch. 

He came to a halt in front of the last door in the hall and turned the knob. You followed him in and took in the room. There were wood beams on the ceiling, wooden walls, antlers, and right in the middle was a king-sized bed. The room looked like walking straight into a cabin. 

“Wow, this room is amazing,” you whispered, following Tim to the glass door that led out onto a balcony that faced the stables. 

He sat down on the rocking chair that was off to the side and tapped his leg. You felt your cheeks blush as you sat on his leg and his arms wrapped around your waist. 

—

The view was amazing and the silence was peaceful and not awkward. One of his hands abandoned your waist to play with your hair. Everything felt like pure bliss in that moment making you wonder how someone you’d just met could already make you feel like that. 

Tim kissed your neck softly, snapping you out of your thoughts. You turned your head and kissed him. You both kissed feverishly this time as if at any moment you’d each be gone. 

You’d never been the type for a hookup but that thought quickly faded away when Tim pulled at your hair and then kissed that spot on your neck that had you begging for more. 

As they say, what happens in Texas stays in Texas so when Tim stood up and led you back inside the room, you followed without hesitation. The back of your knees hit the bed and Tim laid you down on it.  Only pulling away from you for a moment when you both kicked off your shoes. 

Your hands explored his toned chest as you lifted his shirt off then pulled him back closer in between your legs. The music from the party faded away in the background as he took off your shirt and bra then took one of your nipples into his mouth while pinching the other in between his fingers. Your moans filled the room as he trailed kisses all the way down to your shorts.

Slowly he pulled them off, gazing at you. You felt your cheeks burn and so you looked away embarrassed. “Hey, look at me. You’re gorgeous, honey.” Tim whispered, his hand turned your face to him, his green eyes meeting yours.

You smiled and pulled him back up to you, running your fingers through his long hair.  He moaned against your mouth as you lightly tugged it. His hand toyed with the band of your underwear and you moaned against his lips as he finally slid them down and his fingers spread you open.

He slowly drew circles on your clit making you arch your back in pleasure. But you wanted more and as if he could read your mind, Tim eased two fingers into you while still rubbing your clit. 

“You’re so wet baby,” he whispered in your ear as his fingers pressed hard against your g-spot. You moaned in response but were quickly silenced by his kisses. 

You felt yourself getting close as you tightened around his fingers and he bit your bottom lip. “Cum for me” He breathed against your neck, keeping the rhythm in which he fingered you and played with your clit steady.

Your legs shook as you started to reach your orgasm. Feeling your back arch as Tim worked you through it. “You taste so good.” He said, tasting you on his fingers. 

“I want you.” You replied as your breathing finally leveled out. Tim smiled, “Yes ma’am.” His jeans and underwear hitting the floor soon after.

He positioned himself over you and then rubbed his tip against your entrance. You tilted your head back and moaned in pleasure as he slowly and fully slid inside you. His pace was slow to let you adjust to his size.

“Faster,” you begged, making him up the pace. Hitting your g-spot as he not only went faster but thrust harder into you. You knew it wouldn’t be long now til you reached your orgasm again as he continued to hit the perfect spot. 

“I’m so close, Tim,” you moaned, and his fingers made their way back to your clit. You dug your nails into his back as your vision blurred and your legs shook at your impending orgasm. His thrusts turned faster and sloppier and soon after he was pulling out and cumming all over your stomach. 

The room was quiet except for your shared gasps. Tim got up and quickly walked into the bathroom and came back with a rag. Helping you clean his cum off you. 

He handed you his shirt as you got up to use the bathroom and you graciously accepted. You splashed your face with water then wiped off your smeared mascara. 

Tim was waiting for you on the bed when you came out, arms stretched open. You settled into his arms and smiled to yourself as he kissed the top of your head. 

—

The clock beside the bed read 3 AM when you were startled awake by the loud knocking on the door. Tim was still peacefully snoring so you slid out of his arms as carefully as you could and quickly slid your underwear and shorts back on as you rushed to see who was on the other side.

“Jake,” you muttered, surprised that he’d been the one knocking. Your mind suddenly came back to reality as you realized your whereabouts and that you’d been sleeping for a while probably. “We’re leaving. Do you need a ride? Jake asked, his displease with you was evident.

“Um I’ll-” you began to reply but were cut short by Tim who had woken up and was now standing behind you in nothing but his boxers. “I can take y/n home if that’s fine with her.” He told Jake, wrapping his arm around your waist.

“I didn’t ask you, Tim, I asked y/n,” Jake replied, giving Tim a dirty look and then looking back at you. “It’s okay Jake, um thank you for offering but I’ll go with Tim.” You replied, knowing it wasn’t what he wanted to hear but you didn’t have the energy for a very awkward car ride. Jake nodded in response then turned around and headed down the hallway towards the stairs to leave, stopping at the top and shooting both you and Tim a glare. 

“Is it okay if I take you home in the morning or would you rather go now?” Tim asked. “We’ll go in the morning. It’s pretty late now.” You replied, following him to the bed.

“Shouldn’t we check that everyone else went home though?” You asked, still standing by the bed. He smiled at you before replying “Nah, they all have. The music’s turned off so Billy definitely has kicked them out by now.”

“Billy?” You asked. “Yeah, he’s my older brother. He lives in the other house by the stables.” He responded.

“Oh,” you replied, as you shrugged off your shorts and climbed back into the bed beside him. Laying your head onto his chest and trying to go back to sleep to no avail. Tim on the other hand was already fast asleep in minutes.

Your phone went off from where you had set it on the nightstand earlier. Picking it up you noticed 8 missed calls from earlier in the night. They were from Nat and Jake. 

There was also a new text from Nat that read “I hope you enjoyed your night and please be safe.” You smiled faintly and replied “Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.” then set your phone down and cuddled back up to Tim. This time quickly falling asleep.

(click here for next part Tim’s version)

(click here for next part Jake’s version)

[thelomlisfictional]

A Peculiar Woman

(Sherlock Holmes/Female Reader)

POV Sherlock (probably OOC)

"What a peculiar woman, at least more puzzling than any open cases."

NOTE: Decided to post my AO3 stuff (account has the same username as my tumblr), I have a second part to this but I honestly like how vague this is. However, I also totally get the frustration when you love the concept of a oneshot that isn’t continued so I’m not opposed to writing more of this, lmk what y’all think :D

FUN FACTS (about me and this fic): Henry Cavill is like my original celebrity crush so even before he was in Enola Holmes I was picturing him as Sherlock, but this fic is set in modern times cause I overthink stuff. It was going to be in the Enola Holmes universe cause I just love the romance/courting aspect (diehard Jane Austen fan), but I realized that to do this fic justice I would need to study the 1800s and I simply don’t have that much time. Anyways… I hope you enjoy!!!

A woman dressed in business attire strode into the room, quite boldly stating, “My client didn’t do it.”

Interesting, I did not think this man, more adolescent, could afford a lawyer. Alas, she was right; her client hadn’t committed the robbery.

“Are you Mister Stonnes’s lawyer?” Lestrade did always have a knack for questioning the obvious.

If not purely by her announcement of him being her client, she was also clad in a seemingly unworn business skirt and matching blazer, typical of a lawyer. Her eyes were piercing, even with cheeks flushed from exertion, her skin appeared soft. Oddly enough, the only makeup she wore was lipstick. While nice looking in a sense, one would not expect her to be a lawyer. Yet, something in her eyes was akin to a predator circling its prey.

Regardless, how would she possibly know Stonnes was not the perpetrator? Scotland Yard had yet to unravel the not-so-intriguing mystery. By the coffee stain on his shirt and the ill-set photo of him and his girlfriend on his lock screen, Robert Stonnes was on a late-night coffee run with his mistress when the robbery occurred. It always is quite funny watching others try to catch on.

Instead of wasting her breath on his foolish question, she remarked, “Even a blind idiot would be able to see that Mister Stonnes was in Addington during the robbery.”

Sure enough, she presented a receipt from Cranesbury Cafe at the time of the robbery and a USB. Her pitiful client looked comically hopeful; how could Lestrade think Robert Stonnes, so daft he would be unable to think his way out of a paper bag, had committed the robbery? The lawyer ignored the distasteful glare from Donovan as she told Lestrade the contents of the USB, security footage from the very same cafe. I must admit I like her technique of insulting the police while also doing their job for them. A clever one she was, or perhaps comparatively less idiotic. Even so, how did she get the footage? Lestrade at least had enough of a brain to look embarrassed as she dropped the exonerating evidence on the table and directed her client to stand. The almost giddy look she sent Stonnes was strange, very unlike one an experienced lawyer would make. What a peculiar woman, at least more puzzling than any open cases.

“What did you say your name was again?” Perhaps John had heard of her; he was more genial than I. He would know of this exchange immediately; I am sure this is far more interesting than his lunch date anyways.

“I didn’t. Good day, Mr. Holmes.” What an outlandish answer! She is indeed strange. She quickly began walking away as her client signed the necessary paperwork. While my intrigue was increasing, my chance of solving her was decreasing.

Following her, I prodded, "Your lack of answer shows one of two things: you are either rude, which I do not take you to be; or, you have no interest in networking. In which case you are a successful lawyer, your mannerisms and unworn clothes disprove that theory, stupid and inexperienced, possible yet improbable, or, not who you say you are, evidenced by the haste at which you are leaving. So what are you hiding, Madam?"

Now outside the building, she stopped midstep and turned with a sickly-sweet smile plastered on her face, "The name is Y/N, it has been lovely meeting you. If you would like to contact me with any legal questions, here is my card." Her words were laced with venom as she handed the card over. With that, she began walking again.

The grey card was blank except for her name and number, written in small golden font.

[ogdoadfates]

I’ll be here: #1 Now that I met you

Surprise! Random Highschool au fic! Y’all might’ve remembered me talking about wanting to read a fic where Korrin rips Syldor a new one, though it doesn’t happen in this chapter it will happen in this fic lol. Here’s the first chapter! and of course the AO3 link!

Korrin was a perceptive man, he likes to keep an eye and ear out for Keyleth even more so when Viyla went missing all those years ago. But with this extra vigilance he’s been able to observe not just his little girl but those who she befriends. Hear hushed conversations and see behaviors both great and concerning, particularly the twins stand out.

When he first met the two it’d been for a project the three of them had to work on together and it was rather obvious the two siblings would have rather been anywhere else, it’d concerned Korrin at first, worried that these two would somehow harm his daughter. Oh how wrong he’d been, those two are the most loyal and bestest friends he could have ever hoped for Keyleth.

The twins absolutely adore Keyleth. Vex gets her out of the house and out into the city, going to the mall and getting Keyleth to go and experience things teenagers typically do that Korrin knows she’d never do if not for Vex. In a way it’s like they found a familiar bond with each other that he’s not even sure the two of them have realized and gods does that bring a warmth to his old heart. For Keyleth to finally have another girl in her life that isn’t playing pretend to just hurt her later or just from the get go treat her like dirt, it’s a gift that if he was religious he’d give the highest praises to the gods for. 

It became apparent to Korrin that Vex wasn’t used to people like Keyleth, people who help and are kind just by nature with no strings attached, he remembers once seeing the poor girl freeze in place after Keyleth ran off outside to get in the car after getting and gifting Vex an old coat of hers. Not just any coat either, it was one of the more fancier ones Korrin had bought for his daughter a while ago which in all fairness was a blunder on his part, Keyleth never was one for fancy things but Vex is and Keyleth is rather perspective so to her it was a no brainer to give the coat to Vex once she admitted in an off comment that her coat was horrid.

He’ll never forget the young girl's face after that exchange, the utter bewilderment, a moment of vulnerability and then worry with a spec of terror when she glanced at him as if he was going to tell her she had to return it, that Keyleth wasn’t allowed to do that. It broke his heart and he had the feeling it wouldn’t be the last time these twins did that but in that moment all he could do was shrug and tell Vex that he’s glad that the jacket will finally be seeing some use.

Whereas Vex’s response was flight, looking and checking to make sure what she does won’t cause ire from him and fleaing in the quickest of moments, which he has to admit it took him a while to figure out that was what she’d been doing, Vax’s response was fight.

He’s a protective person and Korrin can’t blame him for it but it has led to some rather interesting situations. 

The first time Korrin witnessed it was when the two stayed over for dinner so that way the three of them could finally finish their group project. Korrin had made them dinner and let them eat on the floor where they were working and Vex had accidentally knocked over her soda onto the carpet, it was the first time he saw utter panic cross the twins' faces. Keyleth acted normal and went up to get a towel but when Korrins attention turned back to the twins he met Vax’s intense gaze, his eyes were a fountain of emotion, fear, anxiety, and protective determination as if he was worried he’d yell at Vex for a simple mistake. Vex herself apologizing over and over. It was concerning for the lack of a better word and Korrin just looked between the two, switching his gaze back and forth.

“It’s alright, mistakes happen.” His words don’t seem to install much confidence in them and his heart breaks just a little more. “You want to know a trick?” He says turning back into the kitchen and grabbing a few supplies, returning to see Keyleth with a towel drying off the floor best she can, looking a bit distressed by her friends actions till she sees him.

“This lil trick can stop stains from happening and in some cases even get rid of old ones.” He tells them as he gets over to the spot, Vax makes sure that whichever side Korrin’s on he’s between him and Vex and noting that Korrin coordinates his movements. He’ll let Vax do whatever he needs to do in order to feel that he and his sister are safe even if the notion breaks Korrin even more. 

The first time though that same protectiveness that Vax shows his sister, is shown for Keyleth? He’ll never forget.

He’d gone to pick Keyleth up from school and was shocked to find her and Vex fretting around Vax, who not only had a bloody nose but what seemed to be the start of a black eye. Korrin will admit he panicked a bit but oddly it seemed to work in his favor for getting the twins to trust him. He’d rushed the three of them to the nearest gas station to get some ice and supplies for Vax’s injuries, yes he had the supplies at home but good gods one of his daughter’s friends is hurt and he’s panicking.

Luckily his floundering lightened up the mood by causing the twins to laugh at him, realizing that he might’ve raised the dramatics which in turn makes them laugh harder and maybe just a tiny bit embarrass Keyleth.

It’s only later that night that he learns what happened. Apparently a guy had been bugging Keyleth for the past week and wasn’t letting up and he had tried to corner Keyleth before Vax got involved and a fight broke out.

It hurts his heart to know his daughter hadn’t told him about the problems going on in school but he can’t help the warmth and pride that swells in him that he now knows that Vax has his eye out for Keyleth.

Korrin isn’t sure at what point he decides to be there for the twins like a father should but at some point he did, the two have brought such joy to Keyleth’s life and are in themselves such wonders that he knew they deserved more. He’ll admit he doesn’t think he can provide all that those two need, half the time he doesn’t think he can provide his own daughter all she needs, but they deserve something more than the gnarled hand they were dealt.

[thatchainsguy]

We’re comin up on two years on testosterone and top surgery number two (a revision) here this month, so of course, I have some reflection. The thing is, my reflection typically comes out in art form, so I wanted to say something about the glitched self portraits I’ve been taking over the past couple of years.

It’s become some sort of weirdly cathartic practice in dealing with the weird process of Puberty 2.0 when you’re in your 30s. Instead of taking “progress” or “before and after” photos, I’ve been more into these warped reality images. That’s not to say I don’t have the photos that everyone says to take so that you can reflect back during those especially dysphoric days and see how much change has actually occurred. And I also have the doctor-mandated top surgery virtual follow-up photos that I loathe. Seriously hated having to take those every time a visit was scheduled. They’re in the hidden folder on my phone.

I just don’t feel like those things capture the experience well. That’s not to claim that my glitchy edits do, but they feel closer to the reality/unreality of moving into an existence that is highly controversial and polarizing. I don’t want my gender to be political, but it is. It’s both personal and public. It’s a very bizarre experience, and all my work over the past year has revolved around turning over this prism of experience and asking how I can convey it to others. The glitch photos are a small view of the bigger work.

I’ve done so much research. Academic, physical, emotional research into this subject. I do have a Patreon that houses the more formal archiving of this work. It’s there so that I can apply for grants and report my findings and get support from other artists and patrons. If you feel led and able to, I very much welcome the support over there. The money from Patreon pays for things like hiring a composer so that I have the rights to my own music, renting filming and training space, hiring costumers, choreographers, filmographers, all sorts of other artists! Art isn’t created in a vacuum or on an island, but damn if it don’t also cost money. The US is, well…y’all know. “Hostile to queer artists” is an understatement.

If you’ll indulge me, here’s an excerpt from my big project proposal that is slowly chugging along. (We have a composer on board and can pay him!) This hasn’t even been shared on Patreon yet! I don’t like the idea of Patreon being a pay-wall gate that queer people can’t access, so I will always make an effort within my ability to share things as publicly as possible.

Put simply, QUIET is two parts photography and one part performance, using my own trans body and chains to reflect on my queer lived experience and construction of identity.

The work that I propose here is a three-pronged project revolving around the multitudes I find to be true within my own body: “the conditioned body, the spiritual body, and the body I am destined to be.” (Jose Richard Aviles) I’m ultimately seeking to capture the essence of being all of these things at once, in one body, while also showcasing the nuance of the perceived body imposed upon mine. In this investigation, I hope to achieve the comparison of a fractured experience in its distinct parts with the wholeness of being greater than the sum of my parts.

I want to highlight the importance of noticing this juxtaposition for marginalized bodies and how the pieces that were not selected by us still inform the position we take in places in society, while also being present in a stream of collective pieces coming and going and becoming greater than our, or anyone else’s, present understanding. I want to create imagery that not only acknowledges the powerful self-analysis challenges that multiply-marginalized folks are faced with when those positional identities are held against the spirituality of our whole selves, but also imagery that is rich with a sense of wholeness and love for ourselves.

This piece is informed by my ongoing examination of the concept of the fallacy of stability: that change is the only constant in our lives, despite the capitalistic prescription for being frozen in time at the height of our efficiency. I hope to present viewers a more nuanced sense of understanding of where queer marginalized bodies exist in both a larger context of Western late-stage capitalism and heteronormative patriarchy, and also for my viewers who share my intersections of marginalization: some sense of hope and joy in seeing themselves and their lived experience represented.

Overall, viewers from any background should be held by a sense of yearning and longing, and most of all, quiet.