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a-babe-without-a-name · 1 day ago

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Sit Next To Me

Chapter 3: That’s Actually Very Unreasonable.

You had created two rules for yourself.

Rule One: You could do whatever you wanted. Get the degree you want, party when you want, cancel plans when you want, love who you want. Whatever you really wanted to do, you were going to do, anxiety and guilt free.

Rule Two: You could do whatever you wanted, except for have relationships with classmates. No sex, no dating. If they were on the same course roster as you, they were off limits.

Easy enough, right?

...Right?

Viktor x Female!Reader - 18+

A.N. Yay! Ch 3 is finally done! I pay Rugby and practice started up this week, which is a big reason this wasn't done a little bit sooner. But thank you to everyone for bearing with me and thank you SO MUCH for the support. I've received so many kind comments and messages, I'm so happy that I decided to actually finish and post this instead of letting it it in my google drive. Chapter 4 is coming, I'm not gonna promise when, but its on the way.

At the request of at least one person, I'm going to start a tag list in the replies of each chapter, lmk if you want to be added to that!

ALSO. Someone sent in a request and I am very excited about this. I wasn't planning on asking for requests, but I think it would be good for me to use those as a brain break from the main long form story. So if anyone is interested, feel free to send one shot or head canon requests my way! NSFW or SFW is fine! If you have questions, send an ask :) Anyways, I'll shut up now. Enjoy <3

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Waking up on Saturday was…difficult, to say the least. After spending the summer mostly sober, save for the occasional drink with your dad or joint by yourself, your body was not prepared for the previous night's substance intake. You felt grimy when you came to in your bed. Your skin sticky from sweat, your mouth dryer than all hell, and your brain felt like it had been shaken in a jar. Laying there, face in your pillow, the pros and cons of climbing out of bed tumbled around your head.

You decided that if it was before noon, you’d allow yourself a few more hours of sleep, otherwise you had to get up. Blindly you stuck a hand onto the counter at the head of your bed, knocking things left out from last night around until you found your phone. The bright screen made your temple pulse when you clicked it on.

12:01.

You dropped your head and groaned into the pillow. A deal was a deal, though, even with yourself. You gave yourself grace as you sat up in bed, looking around your tiny double dorm room. Bright light shone around the edge of the blinds, making you squint. Clothes were still scattered around your side, your hightops dropped haphazardly on the floor, not far from your shorts. You had barely managed to piss, brush your teeth, and put on clean underwear before knocking out last night. You could still feel what little makeup you had on last night smeared around your eyes. All of your pre-made plans to hydrate and clean up before going to bed were abandoned as soon as you set foot into your room.

Lest on the other hand, looked like a princess in her bed. Washed hair in two braids, fresh pjs on, and her trusty sleep mask covering her eyes. She even layed like a princess, flat on her back with her hands folded on her stomach. You envied her discipline for hygiene even when drunk.

You slid out of bed. Bracing yourself on the frame with a groan when your stomach flipped. Lest didn’t even flinch, she slept both like a princess and a log. You left on the clothes you slept in, wrapped a towel around your waist, and gathered your shower bag. First order of business was to clean up, because even one more minute of feeling like you were covered in a film of alcohol and smoke and you were gonna peel your skin off.

The shared hallway was aggressively bright, but fortunately empty. You were sure you couldn’t handle an awkward ‘on the way to the shower’ run in with a hallmate right now. You’d probably throw up on the carpet. Luckily on a well weathered first Saturday of the semester, the hall was virtually abandoned. Which also meant that the only single user bathroom on your side of the building was free.

You leaned heavily against the closed door, eyes screwed shut as you fought back the wave of nausea that came with your short walk. With your eyes closed you found the automatic light switch, pushing the button to shut the lights down. The frosted window let in just enough light to see without burning your eyes out. You hung up your things and started the shower, knowing it would take a while for it to warm up.

You took that time to brush your teeth, sick of the grit that lined your mouth. When you saw yourself in the mirror you couldn't help but to cringe. You were a wreck. The makeup around your eyes was worse than you imagined, smeared completely around your eyes in an intense racoon mask. Your hair was half out of the scrunchie you had pulled it into on the way home, hanging awkwardly on your neck. As you brushed your teeth, you tilted your head at the borrowed shirt realizing something off about it. You frowned at it in the mirror, trying to make out what the writing said. Whatever it was, it wasn’t Metallica. You spit in the sink and set your toothbrush to the side before pulling the shirt over your head. It didn’t say Metallica, it said Mozart in the Metallica font.

You snorted a laugh, “Jayce, what the fuck?” Folding the shirt up, you shoved it into your bag, hoping you'd remember to wash it with your laundry. When you caught a glimpse of your bare torso in the mirror, you froze.

Memories of last night came flooding back as you stared at the red marks scattered across your body. An unsteady line of hickeys connected one hip bone to the other, a few were splayed up across your stomach and in a cluster across your chest. There was even one framed by a perfect bite mark on the top of your shoulder.

“God damn…” You muttered, turning in the mirror in search of more. While you didn’t find any more hickeys sucked into your skin, you did find thin bruises on the sides of both your thighs from his fingers digging into your flesh.

You stepped closer to the mirror, ghosting your fingertips over the marks. You couldn’t help but shudder at the memory of his hands on you. You could still feel him against you, his lips, his tongue, his teeth. You gripped the edge of the sink, willing the thoughts away. It was a hookup with a stranger who’s name wasn’t even known to you. It wasn’t going to happen again.

Despite that fact, you thought of him in the shower until the water ran cold.

-----

Lest was awake when you made it back to your room. In the time it took you to shower she had managed to get dressed, make both herself and you coffee and frozen breakfast sandwiches, clean up your side of the room, and get the first season of Love Island up on your TV. She was stirring creamer into her coffee when you came in.

“Goodmorning,” You said, locking your door behind you, “How long have you been up?”

“Like, 45 minutes,” She said, setting the creamer to the side for you, “Were you in the shower that whole time?”

“Er, yeah, sorry. I wanted to shave,” You lied, a little surprised at how long you had actually been gone. You hoped Lest wouldn’t notice that you definitely had not shaved.

You dressed quickly. You and Lest had never been shy about changing in front of each other, but right now you had yourself angled awkwardly against your closet, praying to god she didn’t catch a glimpse of the love bites you were sporting. Luckily you managed to pull on a tshirt and sweats without her noticing. It’s not like you needed to hide from her, you usually told her everything as soon as it happened, but this time you wanted to keep it to yourself. At least for a little bit. You knew she’d have something, probably valid, to say about the complete unknown of the man you had sex with. She’d scold you on how dangerous it was and drag you to the health center to get tested for an STD.

“How’re you feeling?” She asked as you made up your coffee.

“A little like I was hit by a truck,” You shrugged, putting the cream away in your tiny fridge, “But I’ve definitely felt worse. You?”

“Better than I thought I would,” Lest told you, starting the show, “I didn’t drink much towards the end, and I didn’t smoke at all so I guess it makes sense.”

“You’re lucky,” You joked, climbing into bed with your coffee and breakfast, “We’re still doing nothing today right?”

“Oh, for sure.” Lest said nodding with wide eyes, “This is probably the last weekend we’ll be able to actually push homework off. Everything can wait until tomorrow.”

“Works for me,” You nodded, sipping your coffee and tuning into the trashy reality show you and Lest were hooked on.

You realized pretty quickly that all the gorgeous men and women and unhealthy relationships in the world wouldn’t distract you enough. You had figured post your incredibly long shower you’d be free of Pretty Boy, that the memory of him would ebb away. No luck.

By the time Micheal had been cast out of the Villa, you had managed to replay last night's events a hundred times in your head. It wasn’t just the sex that you were hyper focused on, it was every second you were near him. You kept thinking about how he looked in the kitchen, the way the lights moved over his skin and hair. The fact that even in the dark his eyes were still so bright and warm. You could hear the lilt of his accent in your head, all the words he said to you, all the things he called you.

What really stuck with you was how soft it all had been. How gentle and kind he had been with you. The way his voice sounded when he asked if you were leaving. How much you wished you had said no. This was going to haunt you for at least a week, you knew it would. You were preparing for it to be a very hard and very unfocused week.

Lest called you out a few times during the lazy afternoon, questioning your mental absence from the shared room. You brushed her off with excuses of exhaustion and nausea. You could tell she was worried, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell her. Eventually, not many hours after waking up, you let yourself fall asleep to the thought of his lips on yours.

-------

On Sunday you woke up well before the sun, thanks to your early bedtime. You stared up at the ceiling, willing yourself back to sleep, but as your room slowly turned from pitch black into grey tones you knew it wasn’t going to happen. Quietly you pulled yourself out of bed and got ready for the day. It was barely even six by the time you were finished getting ready, but you were restless. Scribbling a note for Lest, you left your dorm.

There was a time when you’d go on a walk before the sun was fully up every morning. It was when you enjoyed campus the most. The cold and quiet of it was comforting, it felt like home. Almost completely deserted at this hour. The only souls you ever saw this early were the landscapers, perfecting the small campus before the day began, and the occasional early rising professor walking a beloved campus dog. On a Sunday, though, it was truly empty.

You wandered without really knowing where you were going, you let your feet remember the familiar path they once took so frequently. The sun barely peeked over the line of trees and brick buildings, casting long shadows over the quad. Dew grayed the grass, evaporating where the sun touched it. Eventually you reached the flower garden nestled between the two original buildings of the campus. You settled on a cold stone bench, the dedication plaque so worn it was nearly unreadable.

You looked around the garden. The variety of flowers were in full bloom as the summer came to a close, each one tended to with great care. It was a sacred place on campus, for everyone. It was where most students had been introduced to the school, the garden being the meeting spot for all campus tours. During both matriculation and graduation, students paraded through it. The flowers were both a beautiful welcome and a bittersweet goodbye to those who chose Piltover for their education. It was impossible not to love it.

You sighed and picked at a patch of lichen on the edge of the bench. Remembering what else you used to do on these early walks, another habit you regretfully fell out of. You dragged your knees up to your chest and pulled your phone from your hoodie pocket. Your fingers were on autopilot as they navigated to your contacts.

It rang only once.

“Good morning Buddy,” Your dad’s voice was warming even through the phone.

“Good morning,” You said, leaning your cheek against your knee, “How are you?”

“I’m good, just getting ready to head out on the boat,” You could hear him shuffling around as he spoke. You could picture him, preparing for the day in the kitchen, “How are you? You’re up pretty early.”

“Working on a Sunday? That’s unlike you,” You joked, it was actually very like him, “I fell asleep early last night, couldn't go back to bed.”

“No, actually, not working today,” You heard the front door of your house open and close, “I’m headed out with the guys. The weathers going to be good for some deep fishing, today.”

“Oh good, that’ll be nice. I hope the catch is good,” You were glad he was taking time for himself, “Send me pictures if you get anything cool.”

“Of course buddy,” He laughed, you heard his truck start up, “Wait, so you went to bed early on a Saturday night? When did you become so boring?”

You scoffed, “Excuse me, are you mad that I am a responsible adult?”

“That’s not what I said!” He assured you.

“Yeah sure,” You rolled your eyes but smiled anyways, “Besides, it was friday night that I was out until three in the morning, rest assured I am certainly not boring.”

“Hm, okay,” He was quiet for a moment, “You’re making good decisions, I hope? Staying safe.”

You groaned at the implications of his words, embarrassed that they weren't actually that far off. He didn’t need to know that, though.

“Yes Dad, I am making perfectly fine decisions,” You half lied to him.

“Good to know. I’m too young to be a grandfather.”

“Ew,” You fake gagged, “Don’t say stuff like that.”

He laughed on the other end. It had been a week and a half since you saw him last, but you already missed the sound of him laughing, “How was your first week of classes?”

“Good,” You told him, “So far at least. I mean, it's the first week and I already have a good amount of homework to do, which sucks, but I think I can handle it.”

“Yeah, you’ve got this, though,” He assured you, never not confident in your abilities, “You always do. What classes are you taking again?”

“I have two envi-sci classes right now, one with a lab, a chemistry class with a lab, and I’m taking an Asian American Lit class, to keep myself from going crazy in the science building.” You told him, thinking about your particularly heavy science schedule, “I’m trying to switch chemistry classes, though. There's a smaller class with a…better professor. Not that my current professor is bad, it’s just that Heimerdinger is, like, the best professor here. I’d like to take at least one class with him. I’m on the waiting list.”

“Sounds like a good schedule. I’m glad you're taking a non-science class, it’ll be good for your brain,” He told you, “And I’ll cross my fingers you get into that class you want.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” You laughed, at this point you didn’t have much hope for getting in, but you could always try next semester.

“Hey, has your mom talked to you?” The question made you groan.

“No, why?” You didn’t particularly want to talk to her, not since her 2nd remarriage last summer.

“She called the other day and asked if she could have you for Christmas this year?” He was treading carefully, “I think you should.”

‘What? No way,” You answered immediately, offended at the idea that you would want to do that, “First of all, I’m not 15 anymore, neither of you get to have me, I can decide where I want to go for breaks. And second, Why would I want to spend break in Arizona with her child groom and his infant children?”

He was, clearly, not a child groom. Paul was 35, but in comparison to your mother’s age- 45- he might as well be a teenager. His kids weren’t infants either, 9 & 14, but, again, they might as well have been.

“Hey, I know, I trust you to make your own decisions, but I also know that you’ve developed a lot of anger recently with your mom,” He sighed, “I don’t want you to have a bad relationship with her your whole life, it’s not healthy.”

“Really milking those two years of psychology undergrad, huh,” You joked bitterly. Your dad would have been the best therapist in the world if he had finished school. Your surprise arrival put an end to that half dream instantly. He never resented you for it.

“I’m serious, buddy,” His voice was calm, urging you to be open, “It wouldn’t have to be for the whole break, just a couple days around Christmas. If you want to spend the rest of the time here with me you can, obviously. Just think about it?”

“Fine…I’ll think about it,” You pouted, he could convince you of anything, “But no promises.”

“Thank you, sorry for springing this on you right now.” You could hear chatter somewhere behind him, he was probably at the docks by now.

“It’s okay, sorry for being a brat about it,” You laughed softly.

“You’d be nothing without your attitude,” He teased, in the background you could hear someone calling his name.

“I get it from you,” That wasn’t entirely true, you and him both knew it, “But hey, I’ll let you go, sounds like you’re needed.”

“Yeah, the guys just showed up,” He admitted, “I can tell them to wait for a bit though if you want to keep talking?”

“Nah, it’s okay,” You insisted, checking the time, “I should probably go, anyways. Me and Lest are gonna go work on homework in a bit.”

“Okay, no problem,” He told you, you wished you could talk to him all day, you wished you were going fishing with him, “I’m proud of you, buddy, and I love you so much.”

“Love you too, Dad,” You said, trying to hold back tears, “Have fun out there, be safe.”

“Always am. Tell Lest I say hello for me, Love you.” He let you hang up the phone.

You wrapped your arms around your legs and buried your head in your knees, unable to hold back the sobs. You let yourself cry. You didn’t think this was how you’d start your morning, but it was fine. Almost cathartic in a way, to let yourself be sad about something as childish as missing your dad who was only a day. You knew it was fine and very normal, but it still felt immature. Regardless, you let yourself cry until Lest finally texted you.

-------

The rest of the day was just as unexpected. When you headed back to your dorm Lest had just started to get ready. You laid in your bed, scrolling through your phone until she was ready. In the hour or so it took her to shower, get dressed, and gather her school work, the weather took a drastic change. You had wanted to lay out on the quad and do work, but the soft sunny sky was full of clouds now, all threatening rain. Instead, you and Lest headed to the small coffee shop on campus. Here it was much harder to focus. You camped out at a table in the corner, despite this everyone who knew you or her came over to chat. Meaning the amount of work you finished was…disappointing, to say the least.

Then, due to the cafe's short Sunday hours, you had to relocate once again. At the overly polite requests of the baristas, you packed up and hauled off to the library. You wished you had come here in the first place. It was pretty much vacant this time of day and you and Lest set up in the quiet section, assuring no one would bother you even if they wanted to. Workflow was steady now, you managed to knock out one assignment after another. In the quiet of the library you were even able to focus on your textbook readings enough to take notes.

As the afternoon began to turn to evening and the library began to fill up, you were finally in the home stretch. Lest was on her last set of practice questions for her math class and you had one more reading and a chemistry practice test to do. You’d probably be back to your room within the hour. You opened up the practice test, determined to get everything done.

It was harder than you had expected. Some of the questions were fairly basic, things you knew from level one and even highschool chemistry, and there were a few that took a little effort but were fresh in your head from last semester. Almost half the questions, though, were questions that were completely foreign to you. You could make out bits and pieces of it in your brain. Some questions gently touched by your previous professors and others that you could make shaky assumptions on. You tried to remind yourself that this was a practice test for a reason, but the shitty score you knew would show at the end still bothered you. In the end you got 65%.

You opened up your email to check for submission confirmation before moving on to the reading. A recent message at the top of the box made you pause. You read it quickly once, twice, three times.

“I’m off the waitlist,” You told Lest, flinching when someone at a nearby table shushed you.

“What?” She whispered, leaning closer to see your laptop.

“I’m off the waitlist for chem,” You whispered back, opening up the class portal and accepting the offer.

“I thought you were in a chem class already?” She raised an eyebrow at you.

“Yeah, but I got into the class with the professor I actually want,” You explained, wishing you could be more excited than the setting allowed.

“Oh, that's…good,” You could tell she didn’t quite get it, but wanted to be happy for you anyways.

“Yes, it’s very good,” You laughed, pushing your chair away from the table, “and as a reward, I’m gonna go piss.”

“Babe, please don’t give yourself a UTI because you only pee after academic success,” Lest jokingly begged, rubbing the space between her eyebrows.

You couldn’t hold back a laugh as you walked away from the table, ignoring the dirty looks from other tables. You were thrilled, a class with Heimerdinger genuinely opened up a world of connections. He knew scientists in every field all over the world. Of course, as the dean of the science department, he was willing to help any student make connections, but it was definitely easier if you were in his class. You were so happy about this, you didn’t mind that the practice test you just spent an hour on was for a class you were about to drop.

You pulled out your phone, shooting off a text to your dad.

Got into the class I wanted! Thx 4 crossing ur fingers

He responded immediately.

Yay… that’s great, happy for you… wanna see the catch today?

You shook your head at the ellipses habit he refused to break. Such an old man.

TY!!! Yes obvi. Fish Now.

He sent back a photo of himself and one of the older guys he fished with holding an impressively sized mahi mahi.

Omg mahi this late in the szn is craaazzyyy, very jealous

You couldn’t help the pang of sadness that bloomed in your chest. Missing your dad intensely for the second time that day.

Yeah, me and the guys were surprised for sure…I got go, talk to you later?

Oki!

Love you Buddy

Love u toooo

You slammed into someone in your distraction as you hit send. The apology coming out of your mouth only made it halfway, your mind and body freezing up at the flash of chestnut hair and pale skin above you.

“Woah, watch it.” The guy, who you realized a second later was not in fact Pretty Boy, snapped at you.

“Sorry,” Your voice came out like a squeak, you cleared your throat, speaking louder, “Sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, it’s…uh it’s fine,” Not Pretty Boy said, looking down at you oddly, “Are you okay?”

You realized you were staring at him, studying all the ways in which he wasn’t Pretty Boy. Too stocky, face too round, hair too long, eyes a dull green.

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine, sorry,” You shook your head, stepping past him as you apologized again.

You hurried off to the restroom, face burning as you locked yourself into a stall. You had managed to keep him out of your head all day. You dressed without looking at the marks he left behind, you kept your mind busy with work and thoughts of your family situation, you barely even acknowledged the fact that you had a body.

And now after all that work, here you were, unable to think about anything besides him. You groaned and thumped your head against the stall door, knowing he’d be inescapable for the rest of the night.

You stared at your hand on your leg, fingers digging into the bruises under your jeans. You had set your book down for the hundredth time, barely halfway through the reading, distracted again. Every time you tried to read the words on the page, you wouldn’t get far. Unable to process any of the information you were looking at. It all felt like a different language. You could feel his hands pressing into your legs, his lips on your neck, accent in your ears.

Something hitting your forehead made you jump, startling you out of the daydream.

“Earth to struggling student,” Lest whispered, crumpling another sticky note and launching it at you.

You swatted the yellow paper away, frowning at her, “What?”

“Girl, where have you been this weekend?” Lest hissed, leaning across the table, eyebrows furrowed, “You’ve been weird ever since Jayce’s party. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You shrugged.

“Okay, liar,” She deadpanned, rolling her eyes, “What’s up?”

“Nothing!” You insisted, rifling the pages of your book.

She stared at you, blink her big eyes expectantly. At this point, she wasn’t going to give up.

“I hooked up with someone at the party” You muttered, not looking at her.

“What?” She gasped, ignoring the looks from other tables. She stood and took the seat next to you, pulling her chair close and leaning in, “When?”

“When I went to wash my top in the garage,” You told her, chewing on your lip, “I wasn’t exactly smoking alone,”

“Oh my god!” She squeaked, eyes wide, “You fucked someone in Jayce and Cait’s garage??”

“Shhh,” You placed a palm over her mouth, worried about wandering ears, “Be quiet, I don’t need the whole student body to know.”

She just blinked at you over the top of your hand, waiting.

“Yeah, in the garage,” You could feel your face getting hot.

“Did you guys… like, get a home run? Or only make it to 3rd base?” She raised an eyebrow.

“What are you? 12?” You scoffed, glancing sideways as you told her, “...home run.”

“Good girl!” She punched you lightly on the arm, “Wait, that’s why you’ve been so spacy? You’ve been thinking about your little garage escapade all weekend?”

“Lest, you don't get it,” You insisted, “It was, like, amazing. Quite possibly the best sex I have ever had in my entire life. Like, honeymoon waited until marriage but somehow still perfect at it kind of sex.”

“No way,”

“Yes way, bitch,” You said, raising your eyebrows at her, “yes fucking way.”

“Damn…” She stared down at the table, then quirked her head to the side, “Who?”

There it was, the reason you hadn’t told her as soon as it happened.

“Um, well…” You hesitated. Lest narrowed her eyes at you, you could see her mind scrolling the list of possibilities. You cringed, “I don’t exactly know.”

Lest gaped at you, “What?”

“We were both high,” You admitted sheepishly, “And kind of caught up with other things. Names didn’t come up.”

“Are you crazy?”

“He was nice!” You defended, “Like, so fucking nice.”

“That is so dangerous!” She scolded, more concerned than mad, “Did you use a condom?”

“Christ, Lest, of course,” You rolled your eyes, “I’m not dumb.”

“I know, but you said you were high,” She shrugged, “Just wanted to make sure I didn’t need to find a way to squeeze a crib into our dorm.”

“Twenties pregnancy is no joke,” You told Lest, trying to hold your face straight as long as you could before the corners of your mouth cracked upwards.

“Damn, so great sex guy is anonymous,” She sighed, “That’s kind of a bummer. He goes here right?”

“He said he did,” You told her, “That’d be an odd thing to lie about, right?”

“Yeah, well, maybe you’ll see him at another party?” She said, hopeful.

“Yeah, maybe,” You sighed, “I don’t know, it was so good I almost don’t want to do it again.”

“That makes zero sense,” she scrunched her nose.

“I mean, I fucked this guy once for, like, an hour.” You explained, “And he is all I’ve been able to think about for the past two days. Do I really want to do this again?”

“Well, if you make it a habit,” She offered.

“I don’t know,” You sighed, shaking your head, “It sucks, but I think it’s better if it doesn't happen again. I don’t think my grades could handle it.” You waved the book you had tried and failed to read for the past hour.

“Skill issue.” She shrugged, shutting her laptop, “Do you have to finish that reading tonight? I wanna get dinner.”

“Uh, thanks Lest, very cool,” You scoffed, rolling your eyes at her joke, “And I’m not going to be able to anyways. I’ll finish it before class tomorrow.”

“Okay good,” Lest said, standing and stretching her arms over her head, “I’ll get us Thai if you promise details.”

“Hm, you know, I’m not against trading my secrets for pad thai and mango rice,” You laughed, packing your stuff up.

Clasping her hands together she determined, “This is, like, better than Love Island.”

You just scoffed, shaking your head at her.

-------

As thrilled as you were to be taking Heimerdinger's class, there was one tiny drawback. It was your first and only seven am. You had managed four whole semesters of not having to be in a class until at least nine. That was very much on purpose, because dragging yourself out of bed at five in the morning was not your idea of a good start to the day.

As much as you wanted to skip past your first alarm and show up to class unshowered and in sweatpants, you figured that wasn’t the most professional first impression to make on the dean. So you got up like a good student. You took your time getting ready and double checking that you had everything you’d need for your two classes of the day, preferring to not haul back to the dorm between them. You had correctly calculated enough time to stop at the cafe on the way to grab coffee with a higher caffeine content than what you could make in your room.

There were quite a few seven am classes available, but given that you were over 30 minutes early, the halls of the science building were still fairly deserted. A few offices were lit up and some classrooms had TAs setting up for the day, but not much student presence yet. When you found the room the schedule had directed you to, you were pleased to see it was empty. It’d be easier to talk to who you considered the most intimidating professor on campus without an audience.

The classroom was small, but you knew the lab attached through a door at the back would be much bigger. Professor Heimerdinger was sitting behind the desk at the front, fidgeting with the desktop computer. You knocked on the doorframe to get his attention.

“Good morning Professor Heimerdinger,” You greeted, stepping partially into the room as you told him your name, “I was on the waitlist until last night, I wasn’t sure if they told you I had moved off of it.”

“Oh! Good morning, dear,” He beamed from under his impressively large mustache, moving away from the computer, “Yes, it was mentioned that there may be a change in the roster. I’m glad you were able to move up from the waitlist. Welcome.”

“Thank you,” You smiled, you had never been in the same room as the esteemed man, only ever seen him give speeches or in passing around campus, you walked over to his desk, “I’m also glad to be here, I’ve been looking forward to taking one of your classes. I’ve heard great things.”

“That’s very kind of you to say,” He walked around his desk and extended a hand up towards you. Due to his short stature you had to bend just slightly at the waist to return the gesture, “I’m glad to have you in class, your name is familiar. Are you acquaintances with Mr. Jayce Talis, by chance?”

You knew Jayce had been lucky enough to score Heimerdinger as his advisor and close mentor, you were surprised he had mentioned you, though.

“Yes, actually, Jayce is a very close friend of mine,” You told him, trying to hide a nervous laugh, “Has he been speaking of me?”

“Only good things, my dear,” He said, picking up on your anxiety, “I assure you.”

“Good to know,” You laugh, hoping it wasn’t too loud in the small space, “Thank you, again, I am really grateful for the opportunity to be in your class.”

“Well of course,” He told you, moving back around his desk as he spoke, “Have you been able to acquire the reading materials for the class?”

“I ordered the textbook last night,” You explained, “I should have it by the end of the week. I’m sure I can borrow a copy from a classmate for the time being.”

“No need, I have an extra copy you are welcome to use until yours arrives,” He pulled a dense book from under his desk, “It’s an earlier edition, though, so just be sure that you read the correct sections.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” You took the worn book, he also handed you a printed syllabus, “Was there reading for today? I could try to get some of it done before class starts.”

“Last week’s schedule became a little jumbled due to my being under the weather, so the first reading is due next class, if you would like to review the syllabus and schedule before class, you will be all caught up,” He explained. You couldn’t describe the relief this gave you, “We only met for one class last week, so you aren’t behind, but the class has already been divided into groups for the semester. I apologize that you were not here for the grouping. I allow students to choose who they work with, so if you see someone you know feel free to join their group.”

“Okay, thank you.” You nodded and turned to find a seat.

As Heimerdinger returned back to his computer, you set up in the corner of the room. The syllabus was fairly basic, but gave a good explanation of the Professor’s expectations. You were sure this wasn’t going to be an easy class, but you were also sure you’d enjoy the challenge. The only thing that was making you anxious was the fact that none of the students that showed up were familiar to you. You watched as the clock ticked closer and closer to seven, your knee bouncing under the table. You tried to distract yourself by skimming through the borrowed textbook, settling on a random section to pass the time with.

You were halfway through the chapter about asymmetric oxidation and reduction when a newer copy of the book was dropped on the table in front of you with a bang. You jumped, looking up in surprise.

“Hey stranger,” Jinx smirked down at you, nodding at your book,“Pretty impressive reading pace you’ve got there.”

“Jinx!” You stood, wrapping your arms around her, “I didn’t know you were in this class.”

“Ekko is too, he’ll be here in a minute,” She told you as you settled into your seats, the room was busy now, “Were you on the waitlist?”

“Yeah, this class was a bitch to get into,” You frowned, then realized something, “Wait, how did you get in? You’re a sophomore this year right? This is an upperclassmen class.”

She laughed sheepishly, shrugging, “Ha, well you know, nepotism isn't always bad.”

“No way, Silco got you in? You lucky bitch,” You gasped, but were not surprised that her dad, who happened to be a well respected professor in the business program, had managed to get her into a higher level class.

“Yeah, and Ekko,” She pulled the rest of her things from her bag, blowing a strand of freshly dyed blue hair out of her face, “You should have told me, I could have gotten you in, too.”

“Sorry, friend nepotism didn’t cross my mind,” You laughed, waving at Ekko as he walked into the room, “I’ll keep it in mind for next time, though.”

“Always got your back, babe,” Jinx gave an over exaggerated smile, all teeth.

Ekko slid into the seat next to Jinx, setting a coffee cup down in front of her, “Hey, where were you last week?” He laughed, extended a fist out for you to bump.

“Still on the waitlist,” You laughed, pulling out your things as other students began to settle into their seats.

“Glad you're here,” He told you, “You wanna be part of our group right?”

“Yes please,” You said with exaggerated begging,“I was worried I’d have to join people I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, there’s a reason I drag him into every class I take,” Jinx laughed, jerking her thumb over to Ekko.

“Yeah, I’m sure the fact that I always give you my notes has nothing to do with it,” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” She stuck her nose up in the air, giving him a side eye.

You couldn’t help but to laugh at them, their large personalities combined to make one big ball of loud and colorful and smart. You had spent a lot of your free time during your summer research with them. Jinx had convinced you to join their little band and you three terrorized the others with very loud and not so great music playing. You were excited to be in class with them. Looking around, though, you noticed that all the other groups consisted of at least three people, some of them even holding five.

“Are you guys a group of two?” You tilted your head, it would be odd for the Professor to let them do that in a class that seemed to be very group focused.

“What? Oh, no there’s three of us,” Ekko told you, “I don’t know if you’ve met him yet. It’s Jayce’s new roommate, Viktor. I don’t know why he isn’t here yet.”

You laughed, part of you still wondering if this was some insane joke that everyone was really really dedicated to, “Haven't met him, yet, but I’ve heard of him plenty of times.”

“Wasn’t he at the party on Friday?” Jinx asked, “He said Jayce had convinced him to go.”

“Jayce kept saying he was there, but I never ran into him,” You shrugged, “I’m still not convinced he’s real.”

“Yeah, you got us,” Jinx said, dead serious, “He isn’t real.”

“Wait what?” You side eyed her.

“Also we wrote gullible on the ceiling,” She rolled her eyes, you resisted the urge to look up, “Viktor is very real, I promise. He’s super smart too, like, almost as smart as me.”

“Always humble, babe,” Ekko said, patting Jinx on the arm, “Always humble.”

Class began then, Heimerdinger calling everyone's attention to the front of the room. You settled into the flow of it pretty quickly. You weren’t surprised that he managed to be an engaging professor. You’d sat through plenty of his speeches and presentations over the past two years, and never for a second did you find yourself bored during them. He gave a quick overview of what the next couple of weeks were going to look like and then passed around paper practice tests. You were a little disappointed to have to do another one.

This test ended up being somewhat easier than the one you had taken last night, only a few of the questions really escaped you. You could tell this was a test meant to gauge how much the class knew as opposed to how much they didn’t. You had just flipped to the last page when the door to the classroom opened. As much as you wanted to keep your eyes down and not contribute to the awkward stares you were sure everyone was already giving, instinct kicked in and you couldn't help but to glance up.

You froze.

There was no way.

This was not happening.

You blinked a few times, mouth hanging open as you watched Pretty Boy lean over Heimerdinger's desk, speaking too quiet for you to hear with an apology written all over his face. Your heart dropped all the way down to the center of the earth, your lungs dried out and you felt like your head was under waves.

When Pretty Boy turned around, his perfect amber eyes immediately landed on yours. Freezing, his eyes widened slightly in an expression you were sure was identical to yours. Poorly hidden horror. You looked away, eyes dropping to your paper, the grip around your pencil was tight enough to turn your knuckles white. You could hear him walking straight for your table, cane tapping along with his footsteps.

You furrowed your eyebrows at the table. Why was he coming this way? There were plenty of other seats. Was now the time to confront you? In the quietest classroom imaginable. He slid into the seat next to you.

“Hey Viktor,” Jinx whispered, glancing up before going back to her test.

Viktor. He was Viktor. Pretty Boy was the roommate you were convinced didn’t exist. The one you had just told Jinx you had never met. The reality that you had, in fact, met him very intimately was crashing down around you. You raced back through your memory, all the little dots that you should have connected immediately snapped together. The music he was listening to, the smoking, that he was even in the garage in the first place, the reason you hadn’t recognized him despite being in your year, the fact that you never saw him leave the house.

He fucking lived there. He was Jayce’s roommate. You had fucked Jayce’s roommate.

You could feel his eyes on the side of your face as these thoughts ran through your head. You looked up at him, his closeness making you dizzy, but not in a pleasant way like last time. His face was nearly blank, only the slightest pull to his eyebrows that didn’t give away any of his thoughts. You had never felt the desire to know what someone else was thinking, not really, not until this very moment.

Not knowing what to do, you let out a shaky breath and went back to your paper. The room was too quiet to speak to him, you could do nothing but endure the remaining time it took for everyone to finish their tests and hope you didn’t faint.

You were keenly aware of his presence next to you. Everything was taken up by Pretty Boy. By Viktor. You could feel the heat of his leg close to yours, you could smell the cologne he was wearing. The scratching of his pen as he started the test was the only sound you could hear. You felt like you were going crazy. At this moment you were sure you could have been committed to a state hospital. The words on the page blurred in front of you. You scribbled out incorrect equations a dozen times before Hiemerdinger finally concluded that everyone was done.

“I will review these and adjust our scheduled content accordingly,” He told the class as the tests were passed forward, “As an unplanned reward for enduring my data collection, please talk amongst yourselves while I battle with technology. I will begin today’s lesson as soon as possible.”

“Nice,” Jinx said to herself as chatter started up in the classroom, she turned to Pret- to Viktor, “Dude, where were you?”

“Sorry, I was stuck behind a school bus,” He told her, his accent was less thick than you remember, “it wasn’t a problem last week, I wasn’t prepared.”

“Oh, yeah, school just started this week for little kids,” She nodded, she was lost in thought for a moment, no doubt thinking about picking up Isha from school later. She snapped back to the present and told him your name, “She’s part of the larger group, I’m surprised you haven't met yet.”

His eyes met yours and when he said your name, you could have melted all the way to the ground floor, “It’s nice to meet you, are you…joining our group?”

It took you a moment to realize he was holding a hand out to you. You shook it, trying to be as firm as you could, but you knew your hands were shaking.

“Nice to meet you, too, ” You said, “Um, I can find another group if you-”

“No,” He said, too quickly, “No, that’s not necessary, I’m glad to have you work with us.”

You did your best not to read into that, “Glad to be here.”

“Heimerdinger wanted us to schedule an out of class work time,” Ekko told you, drawing your attention away from Viktor’s face, “We were thinking Friday’s right after class, since we won’t have lab.”

“That works for me,” You nodded, trying to settle into your chair and be casual.

“Cool, I’ll send a calendar invite,” He said, always the proactive one.

“You are friends with Jayce?” Viktor asked, tilting his head at you.

“Yep,” You nodded awkwardly, unsure how to talk to him, “Since freshman year,”

“Hm, interesting.” He mused.

You hated this. It was so uncomfortable and not at all like the last time you had spoken to him. Even aside from the fact that you weren’t fucking, the few words said were clunky and awkward. You were realizing that the drugs and alcohol you had consumed might have had something to do with the ease of conversation. It made you sad. You knew this was stupid. You knew you were being childish. You were an adult, sex shouldn’t be the cause of this unbearable awkwardness. You should be able to talk to someone you hooked up with, without being on the verge of a panic attack. Luckily, Heimerdinger’s technical difficulties came to an end. He drew back everyone's attention and put a halt to your terrible conversation. You turned away from Viktor, facing the front as the intro to advanced ochem lecture began.

The rest of class, thankfully, went smoother than you expected. Your group fell into a good rhythm, working together between bouts of notes to work on practice problems. Viktor was less tense, which let you relax a degree. He was more than willing to help you navigate your textbook, looking over your shoulder to check that you were on the right section. He even helped you find the reading for next class, tearing a piece of paper from his notebook and placing it in the pages. There wasn’t a lab planned for the day, so Heimerdinger continued his lecture well into the scheduled lab time. By the end of the four hours, you had written down almost ten pages of notes. Your hands ached.

“Apologies for the lecture heavy class, everyone. Having to cancel our first class last week meant I needed to catch everyone up” Heimerdinger said as he closed out the presentation, “I promise from here on we will utilize the last two hours as lab time. Have a good rest of your day everyone, I will see you on Wednesday.”

You scooped your things into your bag and slung it over your shoulder, “I’ve gotta get to another class, see ya around.”

You darted out of the door before anyone could reply. Your head was filled with too many thoughts. You took the stairs down, doing your best to organize the mess in your brain. You created a list. First, the things you needed to do, right now. Finish the reading for Asian American Lit, number one. Number two, go to your Asian American Lit class. Then, the things that could wait until after. Telling Lest about Viktor/Pretty Boy dilemma. Though, she would be mad that you didn’t call her at that very moment. Asking Jinx to add you to the group chat, meaning you'd have his number. Yeah, that you could wait on. Then the things you decided could wait forever. Number one, talking to Viktor. It’s all you wanted to do. And at the same time you’d rather spontaneously combust than confront that awkward conversation.

You were free of the overpowering AC of the science building for less than a minute before the task you decided never needed to happen, happened. Against your will, of course.

“Wait up!” Your steps faltered for a second at the sound of Viktor’s voice calling after you. You ignored him, continuing as if you hadn’t heard. He shouted your name, “I know you can hear me!”

You stopped staring at the hot sidewalk for a moment. No. You had somewhere to be, things to do. You shook your head without turning around and kept walking.

“If you take one more step, you’re ableist!” He shouted, out of breath.

You froze and turned slowly to look at him, jaw hanging open, “That is not funny.”

“Got you to stop didn’t it,” He panted, closing the distance between you, he knocked his cane against the side of your calf, “And, I do believe running from a man with a cane can be considered ableist.”

“First of all, I am not running from you,” You lied, looking up at him. You stepped a half inch to the side, using his shadow to block your eyes from the sun, “And second, if I happened to be running from you, it certainly is not because you use a mobility aid.”

“Okay Miss PC,” He rolled his eyes, “Doesn’t matter why, if I deem it ableist, it is.”

You opened your mouth to argue, floundering for what to say. You don’t remember him being this infuriating at the party.

“Exactly,” He said as you snapped your jaw closed.

“Viktor,” You sighed, “What do you want?”

He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, tilting his head at you. He gave a soft laugh, “I have been waiting all weekend to hear you say my name.”

Breathing would have been easier if he punched you. You blinked up at him, watching him watch you.

“I’m sorry, can I…” He looked around, noticing that other students were leaving the building as their classes ended. You two were standing in the dead center of the sidewalk and in the late summer heat his pale cheeks were already turning pink, “Can we just talk for a second, please?”

He didn’t wait for you to respond before he stepped off the main path and began walking into the flower garden. The dry gravel crunched under his shoes as he walked, the sound amplified in your brain as you followed after him. He settled under a latticed arch, the honeysuckle vines that snaked around it shading you both from the midday sun.

“I’m sorry,” You said, frowning at him.

“For what?” He asked, face confused.

For running away. For not asking your name. For leaving. For joining your class.

“I don’t know.” Was all you could manage.

“You know, apologies lose a lot of their value if you don’t know what you're apologizing for,” He narrowed his eyes, voice almost scolding.

“I..I know, I’m sorry.”

“You say sorry too much,” He laughed, shaking his head, he didn’t look upset, “It’s very American of you.”

“Well, I am American,” You pointed out, letting yourself laugh softly with him, “I’m sorry for that too,” You joked.

“Well, let me apologize?” He asked, “I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable in class, it truly was not my intention.”

That was an apology. A real and true apology.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” You shook your head, “Fuck, if anyone had a right to feel weird, it was you.”

He tilted his head in question.

“I mean, it was your class first,” You told him, “I just kinda…showed up.”

“Did you join the class because I was in it?”

“Well, no,” You laughed softly, “How could I have, I didn't even know your name.”

“That’s true,” He scoffed, “I regret that, by the way, I should have asked your name. Not very polite to ask after having sex with someone.”

“Eh, it happens to the best of us,” You shrugged, liking the laugh he gave you in response.

“Well, I am glad I know now,” He told you, eyes moving across his face, he smirked, “It’s a pretty name.”

“Hm, thanks, I like yours quite a lot as well,” You smiled up at him, the step closer he took didn’t go unnoticed, “It suits you, almost as much as Pretty Boy.”

“Thank you,” He smiled down at you, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“What?” You could tell there was something else he wanted to say.

“Can I take you out?” He asked, taking a nervous breath, “I know we kinda did this in a backwards manner, but I…you are very interesting to me, I would like to take you out properly.”

Your stomach twisted. Your chest felt like it was caving in.

“No,” You said, head shaking slightly as you offered a sad smile. The unexpected hurt that flashed in his eyes killed you.

“Oh, um,” He stumbled over his words, clearly taken aback by your refusal, he tried to step away, “Okay.”

“Hey wait,” You reached out, grabbing his wrist before you could escape, “Listen, it’s not you.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, begging you not to embarrass him any further with a cliche line.

“Really, I swear,” You urged, not letting go until he stepped back towards you, “I just… I don’t date classmates. I don’t sleep with classmates. Even if I want to. It causes problems, it makes class awkward, and I can’t risk my GPA just because I find someone attractive.”

He hummed to himself, nodding as he took in your words.

“So…” He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the same way he did when you were straddling his lap, “You’re saying you find me attractive?”

You resisted the urge to lean into his palm, instead you grabbed his wrist and pulled his lingering hand away from your face, “Don’t do that.”

“I’m confused, you’ve already slept with me? So what does it matter?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you. He was so fucking handsome you wanted to scream.

“Because, at the time, we weren’t classmates.” You explained like it was obvious.

“Okay, so let me get this straight, you will be in a relationship - sexual or romantic - with someone as long as they aren't an active classmate?” He asked, lip curling up in confusion, “But if they were a past classmate, or in our case, a future classmate, it's fine?”

“Exactly,” You shrugged, “I think that’s perfectly reasonable.”

“That’s actually very unreasonable.” He told you, “And also does not make much sense to me.”

“Well, good thing it’s a rule for myself.” You huffed, “You don’t have to understand, you just have to respect it.”

“So, if we were in separate classes, would you go out with me?” He asked.

“Probably, yes.” You admitted.

“But not now, because we are in the same class.”

“Yes, exactly.”

“So, if I ask you when the class is over, you’d say yes?” He leaned towards you, probing.

“Maybe.” You shrugged, “Who’s to say you won’t hate me by the end of the semester?”

“Well, considering you seem to be friends with the only people I know at this school, that would be rather unfortunate.” His voice lowered at the end, he was closer to you know. Very much within kissing distance. Right now there was nothing more you wanted than to feel his lips against yours. You know they’d be cool in comparison to the stagnant summer air.

You didn’t. Instead, you took a step back, and shoved your hand out into the distance between you, “Friends and classmates? Can you do that?” You asked, he studied your hand like the offer was written on it, then sighed.

“Fine, I can respect your rules,” He took your hand in his, firm and strong and cold, “Friends and classmates…for now.”

He moved his index finger softly across the inside of your wrist as he held your hand, goosebumps sprinting up your arm. You carried that feeling with you for the rest of the day.

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sweetiemiller · 5 hours ago

Text

MARRIED AT FIRST SIGHT. kind of.

Joel Miller!AU x Reader.

hi again! so im doing it! ive read over it a million times and if there’s any mistakes please do forgive me. but here’s the full chapter of the start of my spiteful fic lmao.

kidding. im actually really excited to try something different and being embraced by a lot of you has been so great. so thank you everyone who sent a nice word or even just liked the post!

this will probably NSFW at some point. im still deciding when and how it’ll happen in the story but it’s going to be a lot of fun. the POV’s will jump around from chapter to chapter.

thanks to @highinmiamiii sending me the fic i was looking for! thank you! like i said before this fic is heavily inspired by https://www.tumblr.com/tokkiwrites/771944052123959296/game-show-hostjoel-miller-x-contestant-f

and the enjoyment of au!writing. it’s so freeing and let’s us explore characters in different ways. everyone please go read this story, it’s so good and they deserve every single bit of support.

ill stop yappin now and just post it!!

warnings— swearing. referring to killing Tommy Miller (will happen a lot), little bit of fluff for now. future warnings to come!

enjoy—

Chapter 1.

Joel’s POV—

Tommy Miller is a dead man. Joel thinks as he promises to whoever and whatever is above and below that he will personally kill him with his bare hands.

Those same bare hands that are clasped together so tight behind his back as he stands at the top of the aisle. His eyes were boring into Tommy’s who is currently standing up from his seat in the front row with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Yeah. He’s going to kill him.

The lights and the cameras are starting to make the skin on his neck prickle. The people behind the camera’s making him feel tense as his eyes flicker around the room.

He can feel jaw ticking and clenching as his eyes keep looking around the room and catching a few of the eyes of seeing the unknown bride to be’s family are staring at him too. Looking… well, friendly enough. For now anyway.

He can see their eyes scanning him.

Up and down, up and down.

From his slightly greying hair that is just sprinkling through his thick coarse hair. Right down to the black patent dress shoes on his feet that a woman named Jane from production had brought him along with this black three piece suit.

He thinks he looks good. But—

He doesn’t really care and if he was asked to give an honest answer right at this second he’d say exactly that. However, for the first time in a long time he willing to admit that he doesn’t look that rough around the edges.

Which is good, because in about 30 seconds his new wife is about to walk down the aisle.

Not legally of course. But for the sake of the show, he’s contracted to act like it is.

26 seconds.

Why Tommy thought that signing him onto goddamn Married At First Sight he’ll never understand. But the promise of a new Harley-Davidson Sportster Iron 883 and 60% of whatever income from the promotion the construction company will get from being on the show is more than enough to go along with it.

For now anyway.

14 seconds.

He just hopes whoever you are, you’re not one of those absolutely insane people who go on reality television just to cause drama. Because he will walk, cameras and contracts be damned.

He’ll buy his own Harley.

If he’s lucky he’ll get matched with someone who wants to promote their business as well and maybe they can come to some sort of agreement about this whole thing.

9 seconds.

Because who actually goes on a television show to look for love? Who genuinely believes that anyone could even fall in love under these conditions. Cameras. TV therapists. A group full of people who are desperate for their 10 minutes of fame.

It’s just not realistic.

5 seconds.

Joel snaps out his thoughts as he spots Tommy giving him a look. A look that Joel knows means, ‘Dude’, his eyes flicker back and forward before Joel realises what he’s saying. You’re coming down the aisle—

1 second.

Joel hears the doors cracking open and the music starting as soon as his eyes meet the huge white double doors at the end of the room. His hands clenching again as he keeps his focus on the door that’s opening and revealing who he is going to be stuck with for as long as he can handle in this absolutely ridiculous situation his brother has landed him in.

He see’s you walking through the doors. And he genuinely feels his breath get caught in his throat as he see’s your face for the first time.

Your eyes almost immediately meet his as you walk into the wedding hall with who he presumes is your mother. An older woman who’s eyes don’t even attempt to look at him, focused on you.

You look nervous. Terrified even.

Which, to his annoyance, makes him feel something in his chest as he watches you slowly making your way down to him.

He has to admit to himself. You’re genuinely beautiful.

And with that thought, all of a sudden he feels himself starting to panic. He realises wasn’t really expecting to find you attractive. He was fully preparing himself to be putting on his best face and foot forward during this process. His mind focused on that moment he has his first ride of his new Harley-Davidson the entire time.

But now, he’s going to have to focus on that damn bike to stop himself from doing anything goddamn stupid.

The closer you get to the bottom of the aisle, the harder he’s having to hold back a glare that is itching to aim straight for Tommy. But he doesn’t. Because he knows his pain in the ass little brother is going to have an even bigger shit-eating grin on his face now that he’s seen you.

It’s not until you’re kissing your assumed mother on the cheek and whispering something to her that he finally see’s you up close for the first time. His eyes feeling like they’re bouncing around his head as he takes you in.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph— he’s fucked.

The hair. The eyes. The nose. The goddamn lips. The white dress.

It’s not at all what he was picturing. He was fully imagining you and expecting you to go all out and look like princess cake topper. The show is paying for everything after all.

But no, you’re dressed in a long flowing silk dress. With little cap sleeves and the front of your dress making your tits look round and soft—

He has to stop.

He opens his mouth to say something, anything. But you’re already beating him to it with the sweetest voice he’s ever heard.

“I like your suit,” you say, the words falling from your lips like they were dragged out of you. Which admittedly— is very cute.

He lets a short puff of air escape his nose as he doesn’t quite laugh but, almost an amused look crosses his face as he looks down at you.

“I like your dress,” he says back, quietly but loud enough for you to hear. Or that least he hopes you do. Because he does like your dress, he likes it a lot actually, which surprises him.

He’s not a man to even care about dresses. Or anything stupid like that. A woman is a woman, he doesn’t care what they’re dressed in. But this dress on you? He’s struggling. Badly.

He watches you blush a little as you look down at your dress, running a hand over the front of it. The silk moving under your finger tips, almost hypnotising him for a moment before your soft laugh breaks him out his trance.

“Thanks. They gave my mom free reign in the dress shop,” you say with a soft, nearly genuine smile as you jut your thumb over your shoulder towards the woman who was walking you down the aisle now sitting in the front row behind you.

Ah, so he was right.

Joel smiles a little as he nods his head at your mom, being respectful for as long as he can handle this experiment.

Oh God he’s going to have to actually interact with your family.

He looks back at you, watching as your other hand is clutching your bouquet of sunflowers so tightly he’s actually a bit worried the stems might snap in half right here.

“She has good taste,” he says as his eyes travel back up to your face. He feels something twist in his chest again as he sees how nervous you look, and before he can open his mouth to give you just a little reassurance.

Knowing that the cameras and lights are probably making you just as nervous as him, someone clears their throat. Making you jump a little as his head turns almost too quickly to the sound tensing up a little until he see’s it’s just the very real officiant for this very real wedding.

God, what is he doing?

He hears her asking the both of you if you’re ready to begin and he just nods. He looks down at you and taking the chance to grab your free hand just right there. Temping him already.

He smiles a little bit as he sees the warmth spread on your cheeks and your almost wide-eyed facial expressions looking up at him.

Beautiful. He can’t help but let the thought sit at the front of his brain for a moment.

“You ready?,” he whispers to you, his own eyes going a little wide too from how fast his heart rate is going as he tightens his grip slightly as he watches you nod and breath out a soft, yeah.

He nods back as he turns back to the wedding officiant, taking a deep breath as he tries to focus on what the woman is starting to say, her very real speech.

Oh sweet Jesus, he needs to read the vows that Tommy wrote him.

This is going to be a nightmare.

#joel miller #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller smut #mafs!joel miller #made my own tag lol #writing

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sergeantbarnessdoll · 1 day ago

Note

Hi!! Can I please request a Steve Rogers x fem!enhanced!reader where she had been kidnapped by Hydra when she was a teenager after they assassinated her SHEILD agent parents, and she was held in the same place as Bucky ever since then and he took care of her as much as he could like she were his little sister. Now present day, as an adult, she escapes Hydra when SHEILD/Hydra falls? (Bucky def helped). He told her it’s very important that she finds Steve Rogers, that he’ll keep her safe (buck didn’t want to force her to be on the run with him). She has the power to turn invisible, teleport, and send (an invisible) blast through her hands that sends people flying. And that’s how she finds herself wandering outside the Avengers HQ (which they kinda go on the defense because they don’t know who she is). Poor woman is absolutely jumpy and terrified and sends all of them but Steve flying away from her and she turns invisible and just curls in the ground in fear 🥺 And Steve is the only one who can get through to her and calm her down and convinces her to come inside, a gentle arm around her? (He’d be so gentle!!) and she tells him what happened to her, where she came from and how bucky told her to find him

Anyway, she only feels comfortable and safe around him for the longest time, he’s there to help her through her nightmares, help train her, hold her close when she’s feeling scared. They both fall In love!!

Safe With Me » Steve Rogers/Captain America

Pairings: Winter Soldier x Teen!Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Steve Rogers x Female Reader with the Avengers

Summary: Bucky helps you escape HYDRA and tells you to go find Steve so you’ll be safe.

Warnings: Fluff, Angst (not Bucky and Steve), language, HYDRA, murder, blood, kidnapping, crying, nightmares, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the beautifully descriptive request @kpopgirlbtssvt 🩵

A/N #2: Italic text is flashbacks and nightmares. Y/M/N stands for your mom’s name and Y/D/N stands for your dad’s name.

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

“Mom! Dad! I’m home!” You announced when you got home from school, walking in the house.

You didn’t hear either one of them so you assumed they were still at SHIELD. You walked to the living room, only to find the dead and bloody bodies of parents. Your eyes widened and you opened your mouth to scream, but someone put a cloth over your mouth. You kicked and screamed, trying to get free of who was behind you. You soon grew weak and passed out from inhaling the fumes of chloroform.

You woke up a couple hours in an unfamiliar building and room. You squinted your eyes to adjust to the light in the room. You looked around the room to gather your surroundings. You quickly realized that you’re in some kind of lab. You went to stand up, but couldn’t. You looked down at your arms and legs to see them strapped down to a chair.

“Oh good! You’re awake!” A man’s voice said.

You looked up to see a man in a suit, a man in a lab coat, and a couple men in all black clothes.

“I’m Alexander Pierce.” He introduces himself.

“Why did you kill my parents?” You asked, completely bypassing his introduction.

“I wouldn’t think of it as killing. Think of it more as getting them out of the way.” Pierce says.

“Why though?” You asked, your voice cracking.

“That’s easy. Since they’re out of the way, we have easy access to what we want.” He says.

It didn’t take you long to realize that he was talking about you.

“You’re going to be our new experiment and assist the asset during missions.” He explains.

Pierce looks at the man in the lab coat, nodding at him. He nodded back. The man in the lab coat approached you with an IV with some kind of liquid in it. You began to panic and tried to get free of the restraints, but it was no use. You yelped when the needle pricked your skin, tears rolling down your cheeks.

Many months later, you started to develop powers. You weren’t sure what kind of powers they were trying to get you to develop. Whatever it was, hurt every time and you didn’t like it. You just wanted it to stop.

“How’s she doing?” Pierce asks Brock Rumlow.

“She’s getting nowhere.” Brock tells him.

You fearfully stood in front of an HYDRA agent. You were told to get your powers to work, but you’re not sure how to do that. Before you knew it, the agent charged at you. Your eyes widened and you covered your head with your arms. You somehow turned invisible when you did that, impressing everyone in the room. They gave you nods of approval. You uncovered your head and you reappeared.

“What the hell?” You mumbled to yourself.

Pierce approached you and put a hand on your shoulder. You looked up at him.

“Good job, Y/L/N.” He compliments.

“Th-Thank you?” You say more like a question.

“That’s just a start. You’ll get use to it the more you develop your powers.” He says.

A few weeks later, you learned that you were also developing teleportation powers. Those powers weren’t too bad to learn. You were a quick learner with those.

“You know what to do.” Pierce says.

You took a deep breath before doing anything. You held your hands out in front of you and made a circle in front of you. A portal to another room appeared in front of you. You looked back at Pierce. He nodded for you to step in the other room through the portal and you did.

“You’re getting better and better, kid.” He says as you came back in the room you were originally in.

You thought the only powers you had were invisibility and teleportation powers, but that’s not it. You also have some kind of invisible power that comes out of your hands that comes out like a blast and sends people flying. You didn’t know what those powers were called. You just assumed they were similar to telekinesis powers or something like that.

“You’re impressing us more and more everyday, kid. You’re ready to start training with the asset.” Pierce says.

You were led to a room that looks like a gym, but it’s a room that’s used for training. The asset, as he said, was already in there. He’s tall, has long brown hair, blue eyes, and a metal arm.

“This is the Winter Soldier. Asset, this is our newest experiment.” Pierce introduces you two.

You shyly waved at the man. He nodded his head at you. Pierce walked out of the room, leaving the two of you alone in there. The Winter Soldier couldn’t help but notice how young you look which concerned him. A kid like you shouldn’t be in a place like this.

“How old are you, kid?” The Winter Soldier asks.

“15.” You tell him.

His eyebrows rose up when he heard your age. You’re too young to experiencing something like this. You don’t need to be here either.

“What’s your name, doll?” He asks.

“Y/N.” You tell him.

“I’m Bucky.” He kept his voice low so no one outside of the training room heard him. “I’ll protect in here.” He says softly.

You smiled and nodded.

Over time, you and Bucky developed a sibling relationship. You two learned more about each other. Bucky protects you the best he can. When you two go on missions together, he does most of the work while you are somewhere safe so you don’t get hurt.

YEARS LATER

You always go on missions with Bucky- the Winter Soldier, but this time you didn’t. You were sure why you couldn’t go on the mission with him. You asked them why you couldn’t go with him and they told you that you weren’t needed on this mission. Then they locked you in the cell they kept you in.

There wasn’t anything for you to do in a cell that had nothing but a bed in there. You laid on the bed and stared up at the ceiling as time passed. You jumped when you heard the sound of metal breaking. You scrambled to sit up. The door opened, revealing Bucky. You smiled and felt relieved when you seen him.

“We have to get out of here.” Bucky says.

Bucky grabbed your hand and led you out of the cell and out of the HYDRA base. You didn’t question him. You just followed him. When you two were outside of the base, Bucky put a backpack on your back.

“What’s in the backpack?” You asked.

“Clothes and snacks.” He says.

“Where are we going?” You asked.

“You are going to find a guy named Steve Rogers. He’ll help you and keep you safe.” He says.

“Who’s Steve Rogers?” You asked.

“My best friend and Captain America.” He tells you. “Now go.” He says.

“What about you? I can’t just leave you here.” You say, your eyes tearing up.

“I’ll find somewhere to hide. Don’t worry about me, doll.” He says softly.

“But I want to stay with you.” You say, your bottom lip quivering and tears flowing down your cheeks.

“I know you do, but you can’t. You’ll be safer with Steve.” He says.

Bucky pulls you into a tight hug, a couple tears rolling down his cheeks. He kissed your forehead before looking in your eyes.

“I love you, doll.” Bucky whispers. “You will always be like a little sister to me.” He says softly.

“I love you too, Bucky.” You whispered back, your voice cracking. “You will always be my big brother.” You say softly.

You started running. You took a look back to see Bucky running in a different direction. You hated this. You didn’t want to leave the person closest to you. Bucky is like the older brother you never had.

After a few days of looking for Bucky’s friend, you managed to find him. You found him in a building called the Avengers Tower. You wandered around the building, trying to figure out how to get inside.

“There’s a woman outside of the building.” Jarvis informs the Avengers.

“Who is she?” Tony asks.

“I’m not sure, but she looks suspicious.” He says.

Everyone grabbed their weapons, getting prepared for you to come inside the tower. You managed to find the entrance and went inside of the building. You quickly found an elevator and got on it.

“She entered the building and is coming to this floor.” Jarvis informs everyone.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. You stepped off of it. You were met by the Avengers with their weapons pointed at you. Your eyes widened and you rose your hands in surrender, not trying to cause any trouble.

“Who are you?” Tony asks with his blaster aimed at you.

“I-I-I don’t want any trouble.” You stuttered, not answering his question.

“Why are you here?” Natasha asks.

“I’m looking for someone.” You answered.

“Who?” Thor asks.

You kept fumbling with your words. You knew who you were looking for, but you were so terrified that you forgot how to form any words. That’s when you heard the sound of a gun being cocked and Tony’s blaster. You held your hands out in front of you, forgetting that you had powers for a second. The next thing you knew, the Avengers got blasted by the invisible power that comes from your hands and sent flying all over the room, except Steve. Your eyes widened. You didn’t mean to do that. You didn’t know what to do, except run. Steve ran after you with his shield.

You found a hallway and hid down there. You leaned against the wall, sliding down it. You pulled your knees up to your chest and turned yourself invisible so no one could find you. You started crying out of fear. Steve followed the sound of your crying. It led him to the hallway you’re in, but he didn’t know where you are in the hallway, due to your invisibility powers.

“Show yourself.” Steve says as he cautiously walks down the hallway.

You know you shouldn’t reveal yourself, but you did it anyway. You reappeared. Steve found you sitting on the floor against the wall with your knees pulled up to your chest.

“Why are you here?” Steve asks you.

“I’m- I’m looking for someone.” You tell him.

“Who are you looking for?” He asks.

“Steve Rogers.” You answered.

“That’s me.” He tells you. “Why are you looking for me?” He asks.

“I was told to.” You say.

“By who?” He asks.

“Your friend Bucky Barnes.” You tell him.

Steve’s eyes widened when you said Bucky’s name. He set his shield against the wall before crouching down in front of.

“Did Bucky send you here as himself or as the Winter Soldier?” Steve asks.

“Himself.” You answered. “He told me you two are best friends and you’re Captain America. He said you’ll help me and keep me safe.” You tell him.

“If you don’t mind me asking.” He begins as he sat down next to you. “How do you know Bucky?” He asks.

“Him and I met in HYDRA when I was 15. He’s like an older brother to me. HYDRA killed my parents who worked for SHIELD, kidnapped me, and experimented on me.” You explained.

“Who are your parents?” He asks.

“Y/M/N and Y/D/N.” You tell him.

The memory of seeing your parents dead bodies on the living room flashed in your mind. You couldn’t help but start crying again. Steve wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer to him.

“I knew your parents. I worked with them a lot. I’m sorry to hear about what happened to them.” Steve says.

You know you don’t Steve, but you quickly started trusting him.

“Bucky was right to tell you to come find me. I’ll help you and keep you safe.” He says.

“Really?” You asked, sniffling and looking up at him with teary eyes.

“Yes.” He confirms.

You smiled at him and hugged him. Steve hugged you back.

Over the next few weeks, you got settled in the Avengers Tower with Steve’s help. Steve stuck to his words. The Avengers aren’t too thrilled about the idea of you living there after you accidentally blasted them with your powers. You were standing next to the door of the lounge room when you heard Steve and the Avengers talking.

“Why is she still here?” Tony asks Steve.

“Bucky told her that I’ll keep her safe and that’s what I intend on doing for her.” Steve says.

“You know, he’s not much of a friend if he tried to kill you. Even ask Wilson and Romanoff. They were there.” He says.

“That was the Winter Soldier not Bucky. He was under HYDRA’s control.” He says, defending his best friend, even though he’s not there.

“Give the man a break.” Sam speaks up. “Bucky wants to make sure his little sister is safe so he sent her to his best friend.” He says.

“How do we know Barnes or HYDRA didn’t send her here to kill us?” Tony asks theoretically.

“Bucky wouldn’t do that.” Steve says.

“Besides, if she wanted to kill any of us, she would’ve done it anyway.” Clint chimes in.

“She may have a track record with HYDRA, but she doesn’t look like the kind of person who would kill anyone.” Wanda says.

Your eyes teared up. You couldn’t help but let that theory get to you. You finally walked in the lounge room, fiddling with the strings on your -Steve’s- sweatshirt.

“None of that is my intention.” You say.

Everyone went silent and turned their attention to you.

“You don’t need to explain yourself, Y/N.” Steve says softly.

“Yes I do.” You say.

You turned to Tony.

“What you think I’m going to do is not true. HYDRA didn’t send me here to kill you guys. I would never do anything like that. Bucky, who’s like a brother to me, sent me to find Steve so he can keep me safe. I wanted to go with Bucky, but he thought it would be better if I’m in Steve’s care.” You explained. “As for me blasting and sent you guys flying across the room with my powers, that was an accident. I didn’t mean to do that. That was out of fear and I apologize for that.” You apologized.

A few tears rolled down your cheeks by the time you were done talking. You left the lounge room and went back to your bedroom. Everyone in the room stayed silent and felt bad for you. Steve went to your room, only to find you crying softly. He sat down on your bed next to you and rubbed your back.

“I’m sorry if you heard any of that.” Steve says softly.

“I heard all of it. I understand why Tony said those things, but it hurt my feelings and to hear.” You say.

“Don’t listen to him.” He says.

You sniffled and sat up. Your face is wet with tears and your eyes are red from crying. Steve grabbed a tissue from the box on your nightstand and gently wiped your tears away. You couldn’t help but smile when he did that. Steve took a moment to admire your beauty.

“You’re very beautiful.” He murmurs softly.

You smiled and looked down, blushing uncontrollably. Steve gently lifted your head so you were looking in his blue eyes. He leaned in and kissed you softly and passionately. His lips felt soft against yours. There was so much love and passion in the kiss that it took your breath away. He pulled away and put his forehead against yours, looking deep in your eyes.

“That was my first kiss.” You admitted.

“I’m honored to be your first kiss.” Steve says with a smile.

Steve pecked your lips softly a few times before you two laid down on the bed. He covered you two up with a blanket and held you close to him. You laid your head on his chest, slowly falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

You weren’t sure how long you have been asleep. You’ve been tossing and turning in your sleep for the past few minutes. Your hands held onto the blanket tightly. You were also mumbling in your sleep.

“What about you? I can’t just leave you here.” You say, your eyes tearing up.

“I’ll find somewhere to hide. Don’t worry about me.” Bucky says softly.

Steve turned on the bedside lamp and turned to face you.

“Sweetheart, wake up.” Steve gently shook you. “You’re having a nightmare.” He says softly.

You gasped loudly and scrambled to sit up, breathing heavily. You looked around the room to gather your surroundings. You then broke down in tears when you didn’t see Bucky. Steve wrapped his arms around you, pulling you onto his lap.

“You’re ok. You’re safe with me.” Steve whispers.

“I miss Bucky.” You say, your voice cracking.

“I do too.” He says softly.

Your crying died down after a few minutes and you fell back to sleep.

“Hey! You said you’d go it easy on me.” Steve playfully jokes.

“I told you I wouldn’t use my powers and do it your way. So technically I am going easy on you.” You giggled.

A couple weeks later, you and Tony managed to work out his differences with you. Steve has been helping you train. Actually, you two are playing around at the moment.

“You know, you can go a little harder on me. I can handle it. I am Captain America after all.” He says.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Stevie.” You say jokingly.

You did a move Steve taught you. Actually, Bucky taught you years ago. Steve is just helping you improve it. You kicked his feet out from underneath him and he fell onto the mat on the floor. You shocked yourself when you did that.

“Woah. That was cool.” You say, still shocked.

“So it’s cool that you knocked me to the ground?” He jokes.

“N-No! I was just- I never done that before. Actually, I’ve done it a couple times.” You babbled.

Steve reaches up and pulls you down to the floor with him. Actually, you landed on top of him.

“I’m not mad. I’m impressed, sweetheart.” He says.

You two stared in each other’s eyes. You and Steve got caught up in the moment and one thing led to another and Steve kissed you.

“I don’t think Bucky would approve of this if he found out.” You giggled softly.

“It’ll be our little secret.” Steve whispers and playfully winks.

Steve stood up and helped you up.

“Can I tell you something?” You asked nervously.

“You can tell me anything, Y/N.” He says.

“I’m in love with you.” You tell him. “I’m not just saying that cause we kissed a couple times. I feel a connection between us and-” Steve kissed you to get you to stop blabbing.

“I’m in love with you too, sweetheart.” He whispers and smiles at you.

“Really?” You asked.

“Yes.” He answers, kissing you again. “I love you, darling.” He whispers.

“I love you too, Stevie.” You whispered back with a smile.

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

-Bucky’s Doll

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ruporas · 2 years ago

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i've been wondering- what do you think of vash and ww's relationship to pain? do u have any thoughts on it??

cuz i was just thinking like. obviously they're both extremely resilient and don't care much if they get hurt in the process of achieving whatever, but like... as for the pain specifically, i have to wonder.

cuz i'm reading trimax for the first time and toward the end of the sand steamer mess kite basically asks if vash even feels pain. and i mean... he has to, since not that long ago he just hit the floor with a dramatic blood splatter lmao. but like.

is he just suppressing visible reactions? or does he just not feel pain unless it's above a certain level?

and i wanna know about ww too if you have thoughts, i just haven't gotten that far in trimax :')

forgive me if my wording is all over the place, i havent been very elegant in my words Lately, but i am always down to talk about specific shit involving vash and wolfwood,

if we're just talking physical pain, yeah, i think they feel pain normally!

For Vash, he is the master of repression throughout Trimax, so I think naturally, he keeps a strong face no matter the level of hurt, whether on the outside or inner. It's just in his nature to not allow others to worry about him by pulling through with a fake smile or in some cases, he feels like he deserves the pain inflicted on him so even if he's getting pulverized to shit or threatened against his life, he'd default to a silence as opposed to screaming in agony that might make people think he isn't feeling anything. It's probably also second nature for him to no longer yelp or cry at pain after the amount of years he's spent getting hurt, but i think this only applies if he isn't emotionally involved in a fight (which is rare, but it happens in ch. 38).

In terms of physical pain, he seems to feel it like how regular humans do. I've thrown together some examples where he goes owchie owchie owchie that aren't too spoilery:

The Emilio scene is kind of why I don't think he's just playing up the theatrics of feeling pain, though I do think he would on some occasion, especially since he roleplays with children all the time. Verbally saying "ow ow ow" could potentially be an instinctive reaction too or maybe a source of comfort. But yeah!! I think Vash has always been able to feel pain and it's not like being a plant has lessen his ability to do so. Any resilience built is tacked on due to him being alive for 100 years and being a guy with a clear painted bullseye on his entire figure that ends up getting him shot and scarred.

In the end, the pain that gets to Vash the most will always be on an emotional level rather than physical, but Vash is such a genuine person and so present when it comes to other people that even if it's a pain he can take, it'll still hurt him terribly in more ways than one.

For Wolfwood; I think in general, those under the Eye of Michael have a strong resilience to dealing with pain due to the regen potions and the amount of training forced on them. I don't think we ever get the full description of what exactly those in EoM endured throughout their younger years, but we saw WW get shot at an early age in chapter 12 and we can assume it happened more than once. Over and over again until he won't even flinch against it just like how killing without hesitation was attempted to be drilled into him. I don't really know how it works scientifically… but I fully believe that he's mostly numbed to the physical sensation of it and it's the psychological part that gets to him more. Wolfwood himself is a naturally skilled fighter too, not that that really has anything to do with his dealing with pain, but I think his focus and attention on a battle and his stubbornness to win kicks an adrenaline that allows him to ignore the pain.

Though, his body also gets sore and tired just like any regular human does and there's this instance where he goes owie too:

(While NOT as much as Tristamp WW does where he's cracking a cold one every goddamn minute, I do think Trimax WW has gotten used to taking regen pots and thus, can afford to be careless and not give a damn.)

So, physically, technically in canon, they don't really have anything that specially makes either of them unable to feel pain, but just as you said, they're incredibly resilient. And ultimately, the both of them are affected emotionally/psychologically that hurts them more than the physical aspect of it, considering how physical pain is almost a daily chore for them to deal with (Vash being hunted for sport for majority of his life + Wolfwood being involved in experiments/killings for majority of his life.)

I think Trigun in general, while showing physical pain being a strong factor of hurt for regular people like us constantly seeing civiilians get beat up or shot, it tends to boil down to the multiple varieties of pain when it comes to those who deal with physical pain often (Gung Hos, Vash, EoM members).

I didn't know where to put these comments but here are extra thoughts:

They're both evidently really good at hiding their pains or any mark of vulnerability. They both could have a hole in their chest and go days without anyone else noticing so long it isn't killing them.

They're both pretty reckless during battle, but I think for Vash, he already tries to avoid violence at all cost and thus, do in a roundabout way lessen his own chance of getting hit in hoping to not stir that violence against another. As a result, I think Wolfwood can be way more reckless and ends up getting hurt more unnecessarily as a result of it.

They both are capable of healing at quick rates so I'm sure that allows the pain to feel more temporary, less of a risk to sustain, and to further hone in not caring too much about getting shot. That only applies for themselves individually though because every time they see each other get hurt, they're always so so worried despite knowing the other will be fine.

i'm pretty sure i repeated myself like 800 times, but i hope this Answered the question SFGMSDKGSMDKH i also tried to be vague enough in my wordings and focus only on the beginning-ish of trimax so to not spoil! i hope u enjoy ur reading of it!!

#asks #thank you for sending this and for your curiosity on my silly thoughts #honestly i dont think this is very coherent but i hope it is at least comprehensible. if im like. missing or wrong about anything #feel free to lmk.....#i do think its so crazy though that vw both understand the other is not like a regular person by any standard #and like sure vash knows sees and breathes in the fact that wolfwood /is/ human but he also can't see ww as just Another human #bc that human is entrusted with his back and does a good ass job protecting it. ww is like #super abnormal to him but in a positive human way--#but where im going is that both of them know that about each other but still are so concerned all up with each other #Never once faltering in worrying about each other. granted theyre both so haunted by the amount of people theyv seen die and are thoroughly #afraid of that same thing happening to each other regardless of each other's monstrous capabilities of surviving but theyre just so #protective in some way as a result.#anyway i am sleepyg....

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mybiasisexo · 17 days ago

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Hey friend, can i be vulnerable in your blog?

I gotta admit it hurt a little to see kyungsoo making time in his busy schedule to go to his friend's fm and his pop up store but not to go see suyeol at smtown where he supposedly left in good terms and all (unlike cbx) like lay traveled all the way from china just to see them and he couldn't do a 30 minute drive on a sunday?

Also he released his solo lightstick and it felt like getting rid of the last thing linking his solo career to the group

Idk I'm sorry for being dramatic, i don't hate him or anything it just felt like a lot in the current situation and after seeing only suyeol fighting for their lives to keep the name of the group alive ngl it was pretty sad and the promise of a new album in this economy seems kinda unreal but I'm holding to it

I'm sorry if this is annoying i just got very emotional this past weekend after seeing all that and i wanted to talk to someone about it ❤️

Yeah I totally get that 😔. It does feel like out of all the members ksoo feels like he’s distancing from the exo name the most. Like when he dipped he was GONE 🏃‍♂️💨!!

I know it’s nothing personal with the boys tho. I genuinely think the members all love each other deep and their friendship will never falter!!!!

The whole light stick thing…I understand where you’re coming from I do I do. It makes sense to me. He’s establishing himself as a soloist and it’s the next step for sure esp if he’s planning to tour soon. The only thing that really bothers me is his bitch ass solo stans 🙄🙄. This ain’t a victory for y’all!!!!

Yeah the timing was v bad. Us exol are v sensitive with these kind of things so again I completely get where you’re coming from. It was def bittersweet seeing just suyeol on that stage 😥😥. And it does feel like they’re (and yixing my fucking HORT) the only ones fighting to keep exo alive 🥺

And girrrrl that cb??? I’ll believe it when I see it. They’re the new Rihanna to me 🙃

You’re not annoying!! I’m glad you felt safe enough to share this with me! And like I said, being hurt by the members choices is not a bad thing! It’s actually v normal cause these men gonna do everything BUT what we wish they’d do smh.

I’ve mourned the exo we’ve known for years now so I feel like I’m v numb to these things. I guess it’s just one of those things we have to come to terms with. Exo isn’t dead but…they’re not the same 😔. And it suuucks but this is our new reality 😭

#I hate being an exol lolololololol #gonna become a solo stan 😗✌🏾#….#never mind I was gonna say idk which member BITCH !!!#…#it’s Kai duh!!!#anyways thank you for sending this and feel free to send an ask my way whenever!!!!!#ask #anon

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astrhae · 2 years ago

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Hello! I’m late to finding out that you wrote the Anastasia/ tangled au that’s been LIVING in my head for WEEKS, and I just want to say it’s one of the most beautifully written things I’ve ever read and just… I adore everything about the phrasing and the imagery and the way all the references fit together and literally everything about it and that I’m so happy to hear you’re writing chapter three <3

akskdskdsk hi hello!! i'm so glad you're enjoying the fic so much 💙 --- i've been listening to the broadway anastasia soundtrack again and feeling so many things about wylan and the lyrics: halfway between where I've been, and where I'm going // In between wondering why, and finally knowing

it sums up so much about wylan and there's so much to unpack there, and i have almost all the dialogue written for the third chapter, but here's a little snippet for you :)

Wylan tilted his head. “You believe in Saints?” “I don’t believe in Ghezen,” Jesper shrugged. He wasn’t sure he believed in blessings either, but it felt like running in circles: everywhere he tried to run, the memory of the Prince was there, haunting, taunting. “That wasn’t what I asked,” Wylan said, stubborn. The lessons had paid off – Wylan did sound like a Prince. But Jesper had never been good at listening to Princes. Shaking his head, he picked up his hat again and put it on, letting one side drag down more than the other, more than was fair. “Lesson thirteen, princeling,” he replied, “we don’t always get what we ask for.”

#asks #jazzythursday #thank you for sending this it made my day 🥰#people asking me about this fic is 90% of the motivation i need to finish the third chapter <3 #the other 10% is spite because i WILL finish it #currently trying to get my regency au brainrot out the way first #also the lyrics are from the song crossing a bridge #and there's something about the parallels with the books #where wylan does what he needs to so he can finally know #what his father really thinks of him #anyway #feel free to scream with me about them ANY TIME #wesper #six of crows #fic: with everything to win

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icantalk710 · 5 months ago

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📱😪

#well glad i finally stopped overthinking for three days and sent the damn text #i get if things are super hectic with work and everything immediate i do--but if we've still been feeling each other we'd still find a way #to connect?#i thought dinner with him went well a few weeks back--and would've gone better at mine if not for shitty super (big stressor) halfassing a #roof leak repair job in his closet making him have to go handle that after it rained a little during dinner #but we kissed goodbye saying we'd hang labor day and i told him to text me once home or about how the leak goes and he never did #but okay things were stressy and he forgot no worries #labor day came and i followed up day of not having heard from him and did an afternoon in the park after not hearing back #he apologized the next day saying he was going through a lot and i understood and said i'd still like to help take his mind off things--nada #he works weekends so i sent him a doggo video on IG to help some and checked in the next Monday asking if we did still want to hang again #and that i'd missed him--he apologized last Tuesday saying work was chaos and that he was two-weeksing his part time job #i understood and asked what he planned on doing from there to have us talking--nothing #but he did see the doggo video finally and said 'thanks for the doggo c:'#i did also have a free evening on thurs from a day off with mom so i low-presh said 'hey if you wanna hang?' and nothing #last thing was i asked on Sunday how his week was going and nothing #what confused me is that through all this he would still pop into my IG stories and like things which makes me think 'interest'#but i'd low-pressure like or comment a thing on his and i wouldnt get anything #and also still kinda seeing him on the site we met on with a guy leaving him a bj review a few weeks ago... which #it's fine it's been two dates so sure--but i'm also v much wanting to do things with him too and i'm kinda right there??#so all this to say that i felt like i had to just see if we are doing okay given it's been hard to tell #...but i did so much overthinking on how to phrase it the past 2-3 days before finally sending it #saying that if we are i'd like us to connect a bit more and that maybe Snapchat could help with that #[we probably should've traded SCs already 🥲]#anyway we'll see how that goes but idk as much as i've liked our chemistry i kinda feel like--to quote The Drums' 626 Bedford Ave--#i dont get near what i've been givin'#(space considerations for the hecticness aside ofc #so if we can communicate a bit better that'd be nice but could also gear toward an end so we'll see with the ball in his court #anyway thanks for reading that pre-bed vent #you're now imagining a corgi about to go paddling on a boat as a treat :)#🥱

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gravegoer · 3 months ago

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Take a hint. ୨୧

sevika x oblivious!reader ♡ PART 1 [feel free to send requests, asks etc! i respond to everything :) + i defo need to make a badass reader x sevika to make up 4 this

PART 2 HERE , masterlist here

• How could you have possibly made it this far all by your lonesome in the undercity?? Almost oblivious to anyones advances, threats etc. Your last minute judgement has to have come in clutch many times.

• Having said that; obviously sevika is going to raise an eyebrow as you walk past her,

• She sat in her booth, playing a game of poker with two conspicuous-looking men (to say the least.) A cigarillo hung from her thick lips and smoke puffed out of her nose as she glanced up.

• A man follows you (cocky fella) spewing nonsense about how he so badly wanted to get to know you and how "you should come grab a drink with me, all on my tab sweetheart."

• She shook her head; this didn't snag her attention, as the man was a regular, always harassing the prettiest woman he could find at the bar. What did snag her attention was your response.

• "Oh...sure! Why not ?" You laughed, undoubtedly carefree and unaware of the man's advances. Now, this THIS is what made her lips curl downward into a sneer.

• How could someone be so stupid. Seriously. What part about this guy didnt scream "creep." Were there not flashing red lights going off in your head telling you to turn the other way and make a run for it?

•Although this wasnt normally the kind of thing she bothered to pay attention to she continued to keep an eye on you as you walked toward the bar with him.

• However, the game of cards draws her attention away from the two of you. The man to her right groans at her card selection before shuffling through his.

• This was going to be another easy cash night, huh? She thought, her eyes wandering back to where you sat. The man next to you is now a bit too close for comfort.

• "I dont see you 'round here often missy" The man drawls, smirking at you. His fingers traced the rim of your glass slowly, barely missing your fingertips.

• "Yeah im...im not around here often.. tonight jus- " You were cut off by his hand on yours.

• "A pretty lady shouldnt be out at night all by 'er self, who knows what might snag 'er up, yeah?" His grip on yours was just a bit too tight.

• "Thats true..I was going to head home soon anyways. Thank you for your concern." You half smiled at him, now feeling the uncomfortable tension between you.

• The man took your smile as a green light to do whatever the fuck he wants and he leans in closer to your face. Before he can even bring his lips within the radius of your face the slam of metal separates you two.

• A mechanical device whirrs between you, parts clanking and activating: acting as a barrier. Your drink spills onto the floor, just narrowly missing your leg.

• You look up to see the weilder of said device glaring straight foward, not looking at either of you. Although her lips settle into a tight line; disdain etched into her (quite stunning) features. You could feel the heat of her body just inches away from yours.

• "Um...were we in your way-" You are cut off by her unexpectedly deep angry tone.

• "Lance, get the fuck out of here." She spat, now turning her head to look at him. Ah so thats his name.

• Her body was turned to face yours, her large frame mostly blocked your view from Lance, but it was pretty obvious he up and left without a word of retaliation.

• You eyed her questioningly scanning her lean (buff) frame.

• "You dont know a man thats trying to get in your pants when you see one?" She spoke firmly, turning her head to you.

• "I dont think he was.." You recalled all the events in the past five minutes and sighed internally "Mmfuck"

• Sevika took a draw of her cigar, watching you piece everything together, "So you really are stupid? I thought you were playing dumb." She scoffed.

• She couldn't lie. You were beautiful. It's a shame that all the men in the bar have probably eyed you at least once since you walked in. This thought made her lips twitch downward.

• "Bartender," Her voice booms "Get her another whiskey."

• Sevika ordering for a woman?? Absolutely unheard of. She means buisness. The bartender quickly grabs your drink offering a smile (that looked more out of fear than anything else) to Sevika.

• All the regulars know she only comes to the bar to either: A) Gamble B) Drink or C) beat someones ass. And despite her rough demeanor her actions were uncharacteristically...nice?

• "Thank you," You smiled up at her "I need to get better at that kind of thing"

• She slid into the barstool next to yours, where Lance had previously sat. "Is this your first time in the undercity? If not im suprised you havent been killed yet"

• Her question went unanswered as you watched the spread of her legs when she sat down, she has thick; definitely toned thighs. You swear you can see the muscle even with her pants on. Your eyes travel upward to look at her ever so slightly visible abs-

• "Hey, do you have nothing going on up there?" She sneered at you, now getting up from her stool. She was quickly irritated.

• "Im sorry, but you're gorgeous. Whats your name?" You ask, catching her gaze as she stood.

• She makes an incredulous expression for a second before going stone faced again "Be careful with what you say to strangers"

• Your drink arrives and she nods her head towards it before walking away, not leaving any room for you to thank her.

• Right as you're about to stare at her confident walk back to her booth a voice interrupted your thoughts, "Thats Sevika, Silcos second hand man." The bartender spoke.

• He knew you werent new, you had been coming for several years, but only casually. The only reason you stook out to him was because of you're genuine kindness when you spoke to him, not demeaning or demanding drinks.

• In return he usually warded off the men and women trying to snag you up and take you home.

• At his words you turned to look at her, but she was already staring back at you. Her gaze dark and almost hungry. You shivered at that, breaking eyecontact first.

• You didn't feel like drinking any longer, aching for the warmth of your home. You took a sip of whiskey and waved at the bartender before hopping off your stool to start towards the exit.

• You passed Sevikas booth on your way out, the men at her table eyed you and one wolf whistled loudly.

• Sevikas' eye twitched as she waited for you to exit the vicinity. She made note of the bell ring when you opened and closed the door to the bar.

• She wasted absolutely no time to jump on the man who wolf whistled, grabbing him by the collar and delivering an unforgiving punch to his face with her mechanical arm.

You definitely would be meeting again.

short authors note :) this is my first fic in FOUR YEARS so be patient with me guys ... anywho.. PLEASSEE send asks im begging, i crave to write right now. Im mainly writing for sevika and female characters ! But ill do anyone. ask me about fandoms ! (im in many) and ill write for basically any ask me for part 2 !! KUDOS AND COMMENTS ARE VERY APPRECIATED

comment to be added to my taglist :)

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jyoongim · 1 year ago

Note

THE WAY U WRITE THE OLD RED DEMON MAN IS JUST SO NEKEKDKEOWB

Might I just add onto the seemingly continuous alastor requests. I'd love to see Alastor x Reader where reader is in heat and Al finds it pathetic but takes pity on them and helps anyway bc like poor thing can't even get their own instincts in control they're obviously hopeless

warnings: 18+!!!NSFW

You thought when you died you would be rid of hormones.

Periods were a pain while living, but this is was worst.

When you were alive, your periods plagued you with mood swings, random cravings, and pain.

Now that you were dead, you didn’t experience the dreadful red flood and raging mood swings; no. Now all you felt was unbelievably horny and needy.

And you hated it.

You usually carried yourself with confidence and elegance.

You usually liked to help around the hotel and were generally friendly with everyone.

You grimaced as you woke up to feel just how drenched your panties were. I really need to stock up on new underwear you thought as you tossed the ruined panties into the hamper.

You usually spent your heats alone and could hide in a hole until you felt normal again. You usually could control yourself well enough til you had enough free time to ease the tension between your legs.

Or until you found a poor sinner.

Weeeeellll that was hard when you lived in a hotel with a ton of shit to do. You really didn’t want to hear Angel’s jabs as you dragged some unfortunate soul to endear your sex rage.

You sighed, hopefully you could get through the next few days without embarrassing yourself completely.

So far so good you thought as you went about your day doing whatever activity Charlie had you do with the group.

Every touch and scent didn’t send your cunt into a tingling frenzy; yes you had to change your panties a few times but nothing crazy.

That was until you were around Alastor.

Your body practically buzzed whenever the tall red demon was in your vicinity.

You first chalked it up to that it was because you did found him attractive and simply thought it would go away.

But your cunt begged a differ.

You squirmed a bit on the couch as Alastor took a seat beside you, clenching your thighs to ease the uncomfortable throbbing.

It didn’t help that he smelled amazing.

Alastor smelled like evergreens how y’all ever smelled Christmas pine??? That shit is delicious!!!!

And you didn’t realized you had took a deep inhale of him until he turned to you

”Is everything alright my dear?” He asked, eyebrows raised.

fuck how were you going to tell him you wanted to bury your nose into his neck and just SNIFF?

“O-oh I’m f-fine…i-its just you smelled nice?” You wanted to facepalm.

He blinked at you before letting out a laugh “OOooh why thank you my dear” that shit eating grin widened, voice dropping a slight octave“I must smell very enticing if you’re sniffing at me” his eyes narrowed slightly.

A shiver ran through your body and you swear you were leaking through onto the couch. You wanted to die of embarrassment.

“I-I just never noticed before that’s all” You said shrugging, trying to ignore the fact that his very voice was affecting you.

Charlie had ended whatever the hell you were doing and you quickly made your way to your room, causing some confusion.

You were usually a social butterfly with the gang. You never not chat away with Angel as he told the wild shit he did on set.

“Has got to be that time of the month” Angel commented as you almost sprinted out the room. Charlie and Vaggie gave confused looks ”what?” He sighed “You know…” nope not a clue.

”She was a human remember? Every so often her pussy basically shreds itself to bits”

Charlie gasped “So she’s hurt? Shouldn’t we do something?” Angel laughed,shaking his head “Nah we can’t help. But she'll be fine. Just give her a few days and she'll be normal again”

Alastor was in the background listening, the smile on his face sharpened, you weren’t hurt or bleeding, but there was definitely something that could be done.

You snarled as your vibrator died and tossed it. You groaned as your clit continued to throb. You had thought four orgasms would have did the trick but nope you still had the irritating itch.

You didn’t own a dildo because it was pointless.

it wasn’t the real thing.

You wanted to cry. This was your first heat while you’ve been at the hotel and you didn’t just want to drag a stranger here.

You had more control than that.

At least that’s what you thought.

You had locked yourself in your room as you tore your room to bits. The walls were shredded, pillows and sheets drenched in slick and your poor toy was in pieces.

Panting, you curled in a corner and tugged at your hair, squeezing your eyes tight as tears began to pool in your eyes.

You hated this.

You hated how it felt like you didn’t even feel like yourself.

Hated that you couldn’t even control your own damn bodily function.

Hated how your body desperately wanted to be filled.

You would give anything to make this horrid feat of yours go away.

“I would have never thought to see you in such a state my dear”

You froze at the voice and jerked your head to the source.

Alastor.

He was standing at the entrance of your bedroom, a smirk on his face as he took in the state of your room.

”I must say, it. Is rather entertaining to see your lack of control” he said as he approached your curled form.

He crouched down, feigning a concerned look before a clawed hand seized your hair and wrenched your face til your noses were bumping against each other.

”did you think I couldn’t smell you?” He growled “You smell just like a bitch in heat”

You whimpered as his lips ghosted over yours “I-I’m sorry”

His scent was surrounding you. It was a drug. Assaulting your every nerve with each breath you took.

He smelled so good

please

”Please” you whispered as your cunt buzzed, tingling from his clos proximity and in hopes he would have mercy on you.

Alastor sucked his teeth at you. What a pitiful thing you were…

With a deep breathe, he stood and walked over to your ruined bed and sat. You watched as he sat his mic down and removed his coat. Yanking at his tie, he unbuttoned his shirt and looked over at you with narrowed eyes “Well? Do you want to continue to ruin your furnishings or do you wish to satisfy that brazen desire of yours?”

He widened his legs and your eyes honed in on how he unbuckled his pants.

Your throat tightened and you found yourself crawling over to him, no regard that you were naked.

Kneeling between his legs, your hands soothed up his thighs as your rubbed your head against his crotch.

Alastor lifted your chin for your eyes to meet his. Your eyes were blown out and you winced as his grip tightened.

”I pity you my dear, reduced to wanton whore, but don’t fret…Ill help you through your heat” a thumb ran over your pouty lip.

Your cunt clenched around nothing at his words.

You damn near drooled as he adjusted himself to pull his cock free from its restraints.

It was big, in both length and girth. It slapped against your face, causing you to hum at the weight of it.

You nuzzled it, nose gliding along his length before softly pressing kissed along it. When you came to his mushroom tip, you didn’t hesitate to suck at it. Alastor sighed as you gave the head of his cock kitten licks.

Head clouded with desire, you slowly bobbed your head along his length, taking him whole as you gagged once you reached the hilt.

You eased him out your throat and with a sickening pop, you admired as his spit-covered cock shined. You opted to jerk him off slowly as you buried your nose in his ball, inhaling his scent.

Alastor’s hand found your hair and guided you away from his cock, bringing you to climb up his body, until your smoldering heat was rubbing against his cock as he pressed kisses to your shoulder and neck. A gasp tore from your throat as he nipped at your jaw.

”On fours my dear”

Clumsily, you scrambled to follow his instruction. You must not have been to his liking because he pressed your head til your cheek was flat to the bed, back in a deep low arch, thighs pressed to your stomach and spreaded wide with your ass and cunt exposed to the air.

You would have blushed in embarrassment if you weren’t so turned on.

A hand glided down your back, causing you to shiver and then jolt as a harsh slap was planted on your ass, before it soothed over the burning cheek.

Alastor kneaded your ass before sliding his fingers down to your cunt.

Your slit was swollen and your clit, puffy with need.

You were dripping.

He dipped a finger inside you, testing how wet you were.

Soppy.

He added a second, your cunt greedily welcomed his fingers with ease, giving into resistance.

He chuckled “What a greedy cunt, sucking in my fingers like a cock”

You whined when he took his fingers out, already missing the feel of something inside you.

Alastor took his cock and rubbed it against your cunt, coating himself in your slick.

”I am going to fuck you to your little sinful heart desires and you are going to be grateful of everything I give you. You are going to take every bit of my cum until it spills from this cunt and then again and again until I have bred you so thoroughly. Do you understand slut?”

You were breathing heavily, trembling in excitement.

With a single, sharp thrust he filled your cunt, earning a soft cry from you.

”Do you understand?”he hissed through clenched teeth.

”Y-Yes A-Alastor”. you whimpered, eyes clenched shut in pleasure.

”Good girl”

He drew back and thrusted into you again

And again

He had set a slow, but rough pace. Thrusting his cock deep into the soft warmth of your cunt with each drag.

Soft moans filled the air as he buried his cock inside you.

It felt so good.

He reached depths your finger couldn’t quite reach.

And it was amazing.

”A-Ala-stor Aah! Aaah! Hah!” You pushed your hips against his, mewling loudly as he grinned his cock into you.

”Youre pathetic ” He laughed, eyes watching his cock disappeared inside you, giving you a hard thrust at his words.

”Nothing but pathetic slut who can’t control their own body”

His grip on your hips pulled you flushed against him, making you take him til his balls was nestled against your slit.

”You probably would have spreaded your legs for any poor sinner, just wanting to be fucked dumb” Your body rippled as his thrusts got harder.

Your cunt only got wetter.

He noticed as he seemed to sink even deeper into you, as if your cunt loosened to welcome him

”oh? I bet you would have liked that wouldn’t you? So out of sorts with need that you would have just anyone bred this cunt”

He growled at the squelching noises from your cunt, you shook your head in denial.

No. No you wouldn’t haven’t done something like that.

”N-no I-I wouldn’t-” You cried out as his finger ghosted over your swollen clit.

”You would have been happy to bend over and offer your cunt to anyone, as long as you had a cock fill you” Alastor continued before a cruel, deep laugh erupted from him

”But instead you sought me out. I had no intention in satisfying you, but what a gentleman would i had been if I ignored a lady in need?” You felt him lean over, hips never missing a beat as he sunk his teeth into your shoulder.

”Oooh how fortunate you are my dear”

You were suddenly flipped onto your back. Hair sprawled around you like a halo, your chest heaving as he pushed your knees to your chin.

Your lidded eyes watching as he slide his cock between your pussy lips, bumping your clit. He grabbed your wrists, using them as leverage as he thrusted back into you, the new angle making your throw your head back with a broken cry

”FuuuuuUccckk Ah Ah AH!” His hips dug into the underside of your ass as he pounded your cunt.

Alastor hadn’t lost composure the entire time he fucked you.

He watched as you fell apart, your hips wiggling to accommodate to his harsh administrations.

Your cunt took him so good. A white, creamy ring formed at his base as he scraped against that sponges nerve inside you.

You welcomed him gratefully. Letting him wrench pleasurable sounds from your pretty lips.

Pushing your raised legs apart, he lowered his weight on you as he slammed his lips on yours, swallowing your moans. Your tongues danced as he rocked into your body.

The sounds of him ruining your cunt pushed him to fulfill your primal desire.

You felt that familiar blaze of heat take over your body as Alastor fucked short rapid thrusts into you.

Every brush of his abdomen against your clit had your cunt going haywire.

You were going to cum.

Alastor was going to make you cum.

You moaned at the thought

You were gonna cum on his cock

And he was gonna breed you

Breed your soppy cunt

and you were going to let him

”please….” You whined into his mouth

Fuck the very thought had your body buzzing.

”please what?” he purred

Your head was reeling, foggy with the need to be filled.

A hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing

“What are you begging me for slut? Hmm?” His strokes were hitting harder and deeper.

”You want me to breed your cunt? You want to me to fill you up so good that all you’ll ever think is how my cum belongs inside you? What do the little slut want?”

Yes you wanted all of it.

You wanted him to fuck you so good, you wouldn’t even think of wanting another cock from his.

You wanted him to fill your cunt to the brim and then fuck it back inside.

You wanted him to breed you like the little slut you were.

To breed you til he had his fill.

Your instincts had practically took over, fuck sanity.

”Mhmm! I want it. I want you to Ah! I want you to fill me with your cum! Please please breed me Alastor” You whined, feeling your belly clench as your orgasm hung over you, promising sweet relief.

The hand around your throat, tightened causing you to gasp as he spoke into your ear, voice deep and purring

”Youre gonna make yourself cum on my cock slut”

your hand flew to your clit to flick fast circles on the bud.

Alastor’s thrusts quickened, growls pouring from his lips

”Who’s a filthy little slut?”

”M-Me”

”Whos a pathetic slut that’s gonna take my cum?”

”Me!”

”Fucking slut gonna let be breed her dumb”

A sob tore from you as your orgasm washed over you, he fucked you as you milked him, hips angled to thrusts so deep you’re sure your cunt had molded into the shape of his cock

”hah hah aaah fuuucckk fuck fuck Al-Alastor!”

You saw white as your mouth opened in a silent scream only for him to swallow the whine in your throat.

”That’s it you pathetic slut take it. Take my cum. That’s a good girl. Let me breed this sweet cunt cher” your hips raised as he sunk into you and with a deep groan, he cummed into your spasming cunt, making sure to thrust deep enough he hit your cervix as he painted your walls white.

Whether conscious or by instinct, you gave him a ditzy smile, eyes glazed over as you slowly rubbed your clit, whimpering. Holding eye contact with him, a soft pout graced your lips

“Again”

You truly were a pathetic, needy little thing.

But don’t worry pretty Doe, Alastor’s going to make sure you

satisfied and stuffed to your heart’s content

It was going to be very interesting for the next 36 hours…

@markster666 @alastorsfawn @senseichaos @alastoralltruist @dasimp777 @imgonnadielaughing-blog @thewinchestah @strawberrypimp666 @tpks @stygianoir @polytheatrix @prosciuttosblog @angelltheninth @peachedtv @yourdoorisunlocked @kiralaufeyson84

#Hazbin hotel smut #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #hazbin alastor #alastor smut #alastor x reader smut #jyoongim #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel #alastor x you #alastor x you smut #Alastor x you #alastor imagine #hazbin x reader #alastor

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headkiss · 1 month ago

Text

it’s christmas (this is gonna be a nightmare)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve puts a little too much pressure on himself to make this holiday a magical one. or: 4 times steve messes up your first christmas together, +1 time it's perfect.

word count: 7.4k

content: established relationship, one injury (no blood!), some kisses, a lot of steve's thoughts, and a love confession <3 fluff all around!!!

a/n: a full length fic!! it's a christmas miracle!! thank you to the anon who sent the ask that inspired this fic and to all of u for being here. i love u, happy holidays <3

⁺̇◍̇̇̇⁺̇̇̇⊛̇̇̇̇⁺̇̇̇◍̇̇̇⁺̇

Steve Harrington doesn’t know too much about what exactly a perfect Christmas looks like. He has his parents to thank for that.

What he does know is that this year has to be just that: perfect. Because this year he has you.

Though you went to high school together, you and Steve properly met in the summer. Right at the beginning of it, where the evenings still have a chill of wind but the sun cuts through it with welcomed warmth. Robin convinced him to take her to the flower shop just outside of town, and you’d been behind the counter to greet them.

Robin recognized you, and she chatted your ear off while you helped her pick a bouquet with the sweetest smile Steve had ever seen and he felt like an absolute moron for never having noticed you before at school. But he noticed you then.

He’d forced Robin to wait for him in the car while he stayed back, bought you your own bouquet of flowers from the store as if you weren’t the one who’d made them, and asked you on a date. Steve fumbled the whole way through, pricking himself with a rose thorn and cussing mid-sentence, but you still said yes.

You’ve been together ever since, and Steve feels incredibly lucky for it. Lucky for how kind you are, how well you fit in with his friends, how much the kids (Max, especially, though he won’t call her out on it) like you. Lucky for being allowed to grab your hand, to kiss you whenever he wants.

And, on the nights you stay over that grow more frequent with each month, lucky to have you fill the space in the Harrington home that usually feels so cold and empty.

So, maybe the holidays make him extra sentimental, maybe he cares a little too much about making sure it’s the best damn Christmas you could have. Maybe, for once, he’s actually looking forward to it all.

Robin startles him into the present — leaning on the counter at Family Video — with a stiff poke to the cheek. “Dude, I can literally tell you’re thinking about her by the look on your face. It’s kinda gross.”

He scoffs at her, even though he probably was making a face. “Sounds like jealousy to me, Buckley.”

“Shut up, if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even know each other! I deserve compensation.”

Steve hangs his head dramatically. Robin is never letting that go. Ever.

“My friendship isn’t enough for you?” Steve says, placing a hand over his heart, “You wound me.”

“You annoy me,” she says, flicking his arm.

“Ow- whatever. You’ll be free of me in like five minutes.”

Steve checks his watch just to be sure. Robin’s closing by herself today, and while Steve would normally just stay and bother her anyways, he’s got plans that involve you and takeout and napping together on his couch.

As if the thought conjures it, you walk through the door, the bell jingling cheerily above your head, Steve’s car keys dangling from your fingertips. (Yes, he lets you drive the BMW.)

“Thank God,” Robin says when she sees it’s you. “Please get rid of him, he’s getting on my nerves.”

You smile and walk towards Steve, who immediately tosses an arm over your shoulders and pulls you in close, stamping a kiss to the side of your head.

You turn your head to the side and look at him, “What did you do?”

Steve gasps, “Me? Honey, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

You send him a wink, and Steve grins. He fucking loves having you with him, being able to speak without speaking. Your hand grabbing his and squeezing says I missed you, his squeezing back says me too.

“Okay, please remove your public displays of affection from the store and leave me alone with the overplayed Christmas song radio station, thank you.” Robin announces.

“Don’t miss me too much, Robs. I know it’ll be tough,” Steve says, guiding you forward.

“Good to see you, Robin!” you wave on your way out.

“You too!” And just before the door closes behind you, Robin’s voice rings out; “You’re my favourite half of the relationship!”

Your smile widens. Steve is the best thing that’s happened to you, and his friends becoming yours is one of the greatest bonuses you could ask for. It’s like his life made room for you as simply as the ocean’s tide pulls in and out. Gentle and certain.

He catches the keys when you toss them to him, and Steve’s mood just seems to lift and lift on the drive back to his place with you in the passenger seat, Christmas lights lining the streets glowing on your cheeks.

Yeah, he thinks, this Christmas is going to be perfect.

That weekend Steve calls you and tells you to be ready by noon and to dress warmly. He doesn’t tell you much else besides his usual ‘see you soon, honey’ or ‘miss you’ murmured sweetly through the phone.

As instructed, you’re dressed in a pair of jeans and one of your favourite knitted sweaters, your brown leather jacket overtop and socked feet stuffed into your Doc Martens. Though you feel plenty warm, Steve will probably fuss over you and hold you close for body heat anyways. And, well, you’d never be opposed to that.

Steve’s BMW rolls into your driveway exactly one minute past twelve, and by the time you walk outside to meet him, he’s already standing on the passenger side of the car waiting to open the door for you.

“Always a gentleman,” you say, kissing him quickly on the cheek.

You slide into the seat that’s become yours for the most part, and Steve ducks down to kiss you properly on the mouth before pulling back, “Mm maybe not always.”

He closes your door and you laugh lightly, your face a little warm even though he’s been your boyfriend for months now. You don’t think you’ll ever be unaffected by Steve Harrington’s charm, ever be used to it being aimed at you.

Of course, you knew of him in school, but knowing the real thing, the kind, caring boy who’d been buried under King Steve back then, is probably the greatest gift you’ve ever had.

Steve drives with one hand just above your knee, his thumb running back and forth over the stitching in your jeans. Still, he doesn’t tell you where he’s taking you, his only hint was to “pay attention to the radio station.”

It’s playing Christmas music. Like that narrows things down a whole bunch.

You chat the entire way. Steve asks you how the flower shop is doing (“Poinsettias are flying off the shelves”), you ask him who he got for the group’s secret Santa this year (“Max. I’m going to need your assistance”). It’s so easy to talk to him, to laugh and joke and not have to worry about what you say or how you come off.

You never knew being with someone could be so easy until Steve.

Eventually, he pulls into the long driveway of a farm. A Christmas tree farm, to be exact, if the wooden arch you drive through is to be trusted.

“What are you planning, Harrington?”

He shrugs, his hand squeezing your knee, “Thought we could pick out a tree together. Put it up at the house. My parents aren’t gonna be around — shocker, I know — I figured we’d do it together. Make it our own.”

Steve pats your leg before letting it go and putting the car in park, his palms dragging over his thighs like he’s suddenly nervous.

“Our first Christmas tree,” you say quietly, almost to yourself, a smile creeping onto your face. He really is sweet. “I love it. Let’s go adopt a tree, Stevie.”

He flashes you a smile before getting out and jogging around the hood to open your door for you. You’ve learned to wait for him to do it since you’ve been together. The last time you tried to open your own door he made you close it again just so he could be the one to open it.

Before, you’d never really cared about that sort of thing, but Steve has single-handedly raised your expectations.

He grabs your hand and leads you towards the classic red and white barn, following the signs painted simply with a tree and an arrow pointing you in that direction.

When you turn the corner and see the selection of trees, however, Steve pauses.

There are maybe seven trees left, none of which are very impressive upon first glance. Their branches are skinny and the pine needles leave a lot of space to see through them. It’s safe to say these aren’t the Christmas trees Steve was hoping to surprise you with.

He was sure there’d be something better left, at least. And he’d been wrong. Minus a point on that perfect Christmas, he supposes.

Still, he walks you to the selection, the farm’s employee greeting the two of you as you walk up; “Hey y’all. Good afternoon!”

“Hey man,” Steve starts, “you wouldn’t happen to have any more trees left, would you?”

“Sorry folks, this is all we’ve got. Most people like to get ‘em early.”

Steve’s hope dwindles, and you can see him deflate a little bit.

You, however, don’t mind one bit. You tug on his arm to get his attention, and Steve turns to look at you, brown eyes shining like honey in the sunlight. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “Even the little trees need homes, right?”

He shakes his head with a small smile. It’s cute, he thinks, the way you tend to talk about plants as if they have feelings. You do it when you tell him about the flowers you sell, too.

“Right as usual, honey,” he decides. “Pick your favorites.”

So, you wind up with two small Christmas trees rather than one full one, and there’s a small victory in it when you and Steve strap them both to the top of the BMW without too much of a struggle.

Another victory when you sing along to ‘Last Christmas’ and hold out your fist as if there’s a microphone in your grip to get him to join you. Admittedly, it isn’t a very good rendition, but Steve loves it all the same.

You have a way of turning things around for him, even without knowing it.

When you get back to Steve’s, he brings both of the trees inside and sets them up before bringing down the bins of ornaments and lights from the attic. He only shouted once when a spider crawled over his hand.

Having two trees makes it easy to turn decorating into a lighthearted competition. You both claim one as your own and decorate them with string lights and tinsel and ornaments. Steve’s mom would probably have an aneurysm seeing them used so haphazardly.

Though by the end, your tree is definitely prettier, Steve still feels like he’s won something as you lean your back against his chest and his arms cross over your own, keeping you there.

As a kid, he wasn’t even allowed to do the decorating. Mrs. Harrington had to make everything look picture perfect, and Steve’s hands didn’t help with that. Not according to her.

Today couldn’t feel more different from those memories of his childhood.

“Yours is better,” he tells you, chin perched on your shoulder, his voice low in your ear.

Objectively, it probably is better (your prior experience with arranging plants was an advantage), but you don’t actually care about that.

Today felt like a little glimpse into the future you and Steve could have. It’s easy to picture it: your own apartment, buying decorations you both actually like, setting it all up together every year.

“I think they’re both brilliant,” you say.

And while today wasn’t what he was picturing, wasn’t what he’d hoped for with his ideal holiday in mind, Steve finds that he can certainly live with that. Your adorable little clap when you’d finished decorating was enough to cement it.

It’s only one thing. He’s got plenty of chances to be perfect later, he guesses.

Steve dips his head and kisses the top of your shoulder over your sweater.

You stay over at Steve’s that weekend. You’re both off work, and you find yourself spending your days (and nights) off with Steve more and more.

In the morning, you blink your eyes open slowly, naturally. No alarm set, your boy wrapped around you. It’s how you’ll spend every morning someday.

The sunlight sneaks through a crack in the curtains, cutting a line across Steve’s blue bedding. You squint at it, shifting onto your back gently. Steve’s arm remains slung over your waist as you move, his knee against your leg. You roll your head to the side to look at him, a smile creeping over your mouth at the way his cheek is smushed into the pillow, his lips pouting and hair a mess over his forehead.

Mornings have easily become your favorite time to spend with Steve. He’s cuddling you in some way every single time without fail, even when he wakes up. His voice is all low and gravelly from sleep and it feels like an honor to get to be the one to hear it like that. Usually, you spend an hour in bed with him after waking up. Laying together, talking, kissing. Sometimes (often) more.

You’d stay put right now if you didn’t have to pee so bad.

Slipping out of bed without Steve noticing proves a challenge, his arm tightens over you in his sleep, his brows scrunching. You whisper a soft “I’ll be right back.” He mumbles something incoherent, but his arm relaxes and you’re able to sneak away.

On your way back from the bathroom, you pause and take a peek out the window. You gasp happily at what you see: snow. A bright, white layer blanketing the ground sparkling in the sunlight.

You turn back to the bed and let yourself fall to it with a bounce, earning another grumbled protest from Steve, but there’s no way you’re going back to sleep now. You trail a hand up his arm to his shoulder, giving it a small shake, “Stevie, wake up.”

“Hm?” his eyes scrunch before opening. “What happened, honey?”

“It snowed!”

“Yeah?” he huffs a laugh at your excitement, his hand searching for yours in the sheets.

“Yeah, and it’s so pretty. We should go out before it melts.”

“It’s winter, sweetheart. Not gonna melt that fast.”

“Steve.”

“Okay, okay,” his hand leaves yours in favor of wrapping itself around you again, and he uses it to tug you close again. “Just five more minutes.”

His nose is pressed to the top of your head, and he breathes you in, smiling to himself. Mornings are Steve’s favorite, too. Only when they’re spent with you.

Secretly, he’s also happy about the snow. He was hoping mother nature would be on his side so that he could check yet another holiday item off his list with you. Hopefully one that will turn out nicer than the tiny trees you’d ended up with.

It’s definitely more than five minutes by the time you get Steve to get up and out of bed. You attempt to get him outside right away. He stops you with a: “No snow-related activities on an empty stomach!”

So, it’s a rushed breakfast of bagels and coffee provided by Steve, and then you’re gearing up and heading into the back yard.

The cold bites at your cheeks, and the tip of Steve’s nose is pink within minutes, but you love it.

There’s a snowman built together, snow angels made that get ruined when Steve rolls himself on top of you and steals a kiss or five. Naturally, all there is left to do is have a snowball fight.

You start it when you’re still on the ground, a hand sneaking into the snow to grab a handful and pressing it to the back of Steve’s head. He gasps, and you take the opportunity to push him to the side and get up.

“No fair!” he calls. “I was distracted and you went for the hair.”

“Your fault for not wearing a hat, babe,” you laugh.

“Oh, you won’t be laughing for long, honey. You’re in for it.”

And just like that, you’re running around like kids in a schoolyard, hiding behind trees, slugging snowballs at each other and cheering when you manage to not miss.

Steve silently thanks mother nature or the universe or whatever made it snow for the wide smile on your face, your eyes shining with mirth.

At one point, you’re suddenly distracted by something in the trees, and the snowball is out of Steve’s hand before he sees you start to look towards him again.

It hits you square in the face.

A quick “Ow” comes out of your mouth, though it really doesn’t hurt that bad. Your first reaction is just to let it slip, but Steve’s heart sinks to his stomach.

“Shit, honey.” He runs over to you and cups your face in his hands, his mittens soft against your skin as he brushes the snow from your face. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t tryin’ to get you in the face.”

Minus another point, for sure. Perfect Christmas: -2.

“I know, don’t worry,” you tell him, because he clearly is worrying.

“You okay?” he checks. He literally winces when you sniffle, frowns when he sees the way your eyes water. “Honey. I’m sorry.”

“Honestly, Steve, I’m fine,” you reach up and grab his wrists, squeezing them over his jacket. “I’m only crying ‘cause it got my nose. It doesn’t actually hurt.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” you assure him. “Didn’t you used to play sports in school? Thought athletes had better aim.”

“I was a swimmer, baby. No projectiles involved.” He smiles softly when you laugh, but he can’t stop himself from asking one more time. “You’re really not hurt?”

“It’s just a bit of snow, Stevie.”

His eyes run over your face anyway before he nods. Then, he dips forwards and lightly kisses your cheek, the other, the tip of your nose, and your mouth.

“Well now I’m certainly all better,” you say against his lips.

Steve pulls back but doesn’t go far. “I think this snowball fight is over.”

“Buzzkill,” you tease.

He bends down and picks up a handful of snow before shoving it in his own face.

“Steve!” you laugh.

“There, now we’re even,” he says, snowflakes clinging to his lashes.

You let him lead you inside after that, his arm draping over your shoulders, yours hugging his middle as you walk across the yard.

Once you’ve both shed your layers of coats and boots and hats and mittens, Steve takes you upstairs and runs you a bath to warm you up. He apologizes another two times when he looks at your face for too long, and you have to kiss him to stop him uttering another ‘sorry.’

Hell, if it’s gonna make him this sweet on you, you’d probably take a snowball to the face any day.

Eventually, when the bathtub is full, a layer of bubbles over the surface, you coax Steve into joining you. He leans against the side with you between his knees, back settling into its home against his chest, his chin resting atop your head.

Steve runs his hands over your shoulders, presses kisses into your hair. All along he’s reminding himself that the next thing will go right. He won’t be throwing anything, at least.

The next weekend Steve calls you again. He asks you to be ready in the evening this time, but still keeps things vague other than the fact that you’ll be outside and need thick socks.

You have a pretty good idea of what he has in mind, but he’d called it a ‘redemption date’ over the phone and even though you truly don’t think he has anything to redeem himself for, you don’t want to spoil his plans, so you play along.

He comes to the front door when he picks you up this time, knocking gently as if you hadn’t been waiting for him by the windows.

“Hi, honey,” he drops a quick kiss to your lips, “had to come and approve your outfit. Don’t want you getting cold and stealing my jacket again.”

He’s lying, really. Steve fucking loves draping his own jacket over your shoulders and seeing you pull it tighter around you. When that happens, he braves the cold, but he figures that probably won’t be smart for spending hours outside.

“Aww, but yours is so much warmer than mine,” you pout jokingly.

Steve simply grabs your thickest jacket from a hook by the door and holds it out for you to slip your arms into.

As suspected, he drives you to a skating rink. He chose one a town over from Hawkins, where they have twinkle lights strung above the rink and rainbow Christmas lights lining the boards. Steve smiles when you gasp lightly in delight at the sight of it. The brightness cutting through the already dark night sky.

Steve guides you over to the skate rental booth first, bumping his hip into yours when you attempt to pay for the rentals. “As if. My idea, my wallet.”

“You don’t even let me pay when it’s my idea, either.”

“Well, that’s just chivalry, babe.”

You roll your eyes at him and thank the man behind the booth when he hands you both your skates. As you walk towards the lockers and cubbies set up nearby, you lean up and kiss Steve’s cheek, his light stubble scratching your lips.

“Thank you for this,” you say.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he tells you. “Though I should warn you that I’m not very good at this.”

“What? You, not good at something? Please.”

“No, seriously. I’m like bambi on ice.”

You laugh and shove his shoulder weakly, “Don’t worry. I’m probably even worse.”

Steve grins. So far, so good. This one will be perfect. Well, as perfect as it can be considering his skating skills.

You sit on one of the benches and Steve puts both of your shoes in one of the cubbies. He ties his own skates first before kneeling in front of you to help you with yours. He knows how to tie them, at the very least.

He helps you slip your feet into the skates first, then tightens the laces on one before peering up at you and checking, “Feel okay? Not too tight?”

“It’s good, Steve. I feel like Cinderella.”

“A perfect fit! She must be the one!”

“Dork.”

“That’s prince dork to you.”

Steve finishes up with your skates, squeezing your ankle before setting your foot down and standing back up.

On the ice, neither of you are very graceful. You hold onto the boards most of the time, and Steve stumbles and nearly falls every few strides, but you’re laughing and having fun, so who cares?

So what if you get lapped by multiple people on the rink, including children? So what if you get some side eyes for being too slow or in the way? Neither of you can bring yourselves to be bothered.

Best of all, Steve keeps a hold on your hand the entire time. He literally saves you from falling with his grip on your hand squeezing and pulling you up straight.

However, your hands being clasped also means that, inevitably, when one of you goes down, you both do.

It happens after a decent amount of laps; your toe pick catches on a dip in the ice and it’s all it takes for you to lose your balance. Steve somehow twists himself to catch the brunt of your fall.

He expected that to come with some pain, a couple bruises, maybe. Instead, his wrist twists painfully against the ice as he falls, as if he’d tried to catch himself with it, and he can’t help the hiss of pain that comes out when he lands.

“You okay, honey?” he asks you.

“Of course I am. I landed on you, Stevie. Are you okay?”

He tests his wrist out by flexing it, wiggling his fingers, and he tries to hide it but he winces when he does, a sharp pain shooting up his arm. “M’fine.”

“Bullshit, I saw that wince, Harrington.” You manage to get back up on your feet and hold out a hand for him to grab, “Up, I’m taking you to the ER.”

“No, no. I’m good.”

“Steve.”

“Baby.”

“Come on, you don’t want to make it worse, do you?” you urge him. “Plus, I’ll only keep worrying and bugging you about it until you let me take you to the doctor. Your wrist is already swelling, babe.”

Mostly because he doesn’t like the thought of you worrying about him, Steve agrees.

When both of your skates are off (your doing, this time) and given back to the booth, you reach into Steve’s coat pocket and grab the keys to the BMW. He doesn’t protest, and that alone tells you he must be hurting more than he’s letting on. You even manage to open your own door for once.

Steve’s quiet on the drive to the hospital, his hand resting limply on his leg. His brows are furrowed, his eyes squeezing shut every so often when a burst of pain comes. You do your best to avoid any pot holes or bumps along the way.

Once there, you make him sit in one of the waiting room chairs, “I’ll get the check in forms and everything. Stay put, yeah?”

“Your wish is my command,” he says, trying to joke. His voice wobbles a tiny bit, though.

It’s at least an hour of waiting before someone can see him (and that’s including your many pesterings to the front desk). You don’t mean to be a bother, but you’ve never seen Steve injured in any serious capacity, and it’s messing with your head.

He took the weight of that fall to make sure you wouldn’t get hurt. The way he pays attention to things like that is one of the many reasons you love him.

You love him. You haven’t said the words to each other yet, but you’ve felt them for a long time already. It’s hard not to love Steve Harrington.

Finally, the doctor takes him back, and you follow. After an x-ray and some prodding, he determines that it’s a sprained wrist and that he should keep it wrapped for a few weeks to make sure it heals. They give him a prescription for some mild painkillers, too, for the first couple of days.

You breathe a sigh of relief knowing it isn’t broken, but Steve’s shoulders are still slumped.

He’s in pain, sure, his wrist now wrapped up in a tensor bandage, but really he feels defeated at messing yet another thing up. Third strike.

Steve lets you guide him back to the car and drive back to his place. You’ve decided you’re staying the night to take care of him, and as much as he hates looking weak or feeling useless, he’s glad to have you around.

You dote on him back at home, grabbing an ice pack from the freezer after making sure he’s settled on the couch, throwing a frozen pizza in the oven, bringing him meds and water.

“Honey, it’s just a sprain. Please stop fussing and sit with me.”

His brown eyes shine a little, and you could never say no to him when he looks at you like that.

You sit beside him and he drops his head to your shoulder, your hand coming up to play with the strands at the nape of his neck, scratching his scalp gently. His uninjured hand rests on your thigh and squeezes.

“Best painkiller ever,” he says.

Steve has convinced himself that nothing could possibly go wrong this time around.

His plans for today involve staying at home, just you and him, no outside forces to deal with or avoid. So much less potential for failure. That’s what he thinks, at least.

Steve knows nearly every piece of you, so, obviously he knows you like to bake. You’d made him a cake for his birthday, and every so often you bring him other treats from home. Naturally, that meant that there was no way he was leaving out Christmas baking.

He’d considered doing gingerbread houses, and then remembered that the last time he tried that in a competition with the kids, his house was nothing more than a messy pile of gingerbread slabs. One with a bite taken out of it.

So, considering his past failures this holiday season, he’d settled on something that he thinks — hopes — is really hard to mess up: sugar cookies.

His mother’s collection of cookbooks had never been used for more than decoration until now. Steve searched through them until he found a recipe, wrote down the ingredients, and bought them at the grocery store to make sure he had everything.

In school, he never did much studying, but he reread the hell out of that recipe in order to get at least this one thing right.

The tensor bandage is still wrapped around his wrist, which is fucking annoying, really. He has to adjust it every day, and it’s hard to do with a single hand. He much prefers when you do it for him, sealing it with a featherlight kiss.

Worse, the thing still hurts, and you refused to let him drive and put more strain on it than necessary, so you took the bus and walked the rest of the way to his house.

He’s got all of the ingredients and tools laid out on the island when you ring the doorbell. “Hurry up, Harrington, it’s freezing!”

Hurry he does. He lets you in and helps you unwrap yourself from your bundle of a scarf and hat and mittens and jacket. Steve dips in to kiss your cheek, your skin cold against his lips. “Wouldn’t have to freeze if you let me come get you.”

“I don’t want you hurting yourself for no reason, I’m fine,” you grab his uninjured hand and kiss the pads of his fingers, “and I like these hands.”

He smiles at your words, smug, “Yeah, I know you do, honey.”

You shake your head at him, but you’re smiling all the same, “I take it back. Your ego is getting too big.”

“Nooo, it’s just the right size,” he winks.

“Don’t you have plans, Steve?” you ask, changing the subject. “Getting a little off track, aren’t we?”

“Later, then,” he says, taking your hand with his good one and leading you to the kitchen.

You pause at the entryway of the kitchen, scanning over the things on the island, two aprons Steve must’ve dug up from somewhere hanging from the knobs of the cabinets.

“Tada,” he says, “we’re making cookies.”

“This might be my favourite one yet, Stevie.” You walk over and grab one of the aprons, leaving the other (a pink floral number) for Steve. “I’m in charge, though.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says, taking the other apron without a complaint. “This is your kitchen today, chef.”

“Mm. That has a nice ring to it.”

“Chef honey,” he says, planting a kiss where your neck meets your shoulder, breath warm even through your shirt.

You get started after that. Predictably, you make a mess with flour on the island and mixing bowls strewn about the surface. You get distracted with a bit of a flour war somewhere in there, Steve smudging it onto your cheek, you onto the tip of his nose.

When it’s time to roll out the dough and cut out the cookies, Steve grabs a handful of cookie cutters from one of the drawers, setting them onto the counter with a small clang. They’re all holiday themed. Candy canes and snowmen and Christmas trees.

“Someone’s prepared,” you say, bumping your hip against his.

“I run a serious establishment here, baby.”

“I thought I was in charge.”

Soon enough, after sneaking bites of raw cookie dough and cutting out as many cookies as you could manage, they’re placed into the oven, the timer set.

You end up in the living room, a random channel playing on the TV while the cookies bake. It starts innocently enough, just sitting next to each other, shoulders and thighs pressed together.

Then, Steve’s good hand wanders, starting above your knee and moving up and up until he’s squeezing the top of your thigh, tracing patterns with his thumb. When he speaks a husky, “Come closer?” how could you ever say no?

So, somehow, you’ve ended up straddling Steve’s lap, his injured hand resting loosely on your waist, the other pressed in between your shoulder blades to keep you close. Yours are in his hair, running through the strands, tugging even.

It grows heated fast, and all of a sudden you’re making out like a pair of teenagers, Steve urging you to press further down in his lap, to writhe there while his mouth works yours until it’s all you can think about. All you can feel.

The room feels warmer, Steve’s jeans tighter over his lap, your chest bumping against his, hearts racing. Even just kissing him feels better than anything you’ve ever had in the past.

He kisses you like he’s starved everytime, sometimes a ravenous hunger, like now, or, when he’s gentler, something tender and soft. A sweet tooth.

The cookies are long forgotten. The timer sounds and nobody hears it. You would keep going forever, if you could. But then there’s the smell that hits your nostrils. The smell of something burning.

“Steve?” you say against his mouth.

“Uh-huh?” he breathes.

“Do you smell that?”

He pulls back, and it’s immediately after you say the words that the alarm goes off, piercing through the air, killing the mood, much to your dismay. Even more to Steve’s.

“Fuck,” he groans.

You’re both rushing to the kitchen then. You, fumbling off his lap, him beating you to the kitchen and frantically taking the baking sheet out of the oven and turning the thing off. You grab a towel from the counter and start fanning beneath the alarm to get it to go off, and when the cookies are dealt with, Steve joins the efforts.

Eventually the thing stops beeping, and you both rest your arms. The room still looks a little cloudy, the cookies black at the edges.

Steve doesn’t say anything, only rests his elbows on the island and slumps his head, defeated.

He’s so frustrated with himself. Not for kissing you. No, he could never be mad at that, but at the outcome of his final attempt at a holiday date going south again.

You frown at him, walking over and placing a hand on his back, rubbing gentle circles. “Steve? You okay?”

“I just- I messed it up again.”

“Hey, I’m as much to blame as you are. It takes two to tango, as they say.”

He huffs a weak laugh, picking his head up and twisting to look at you. Your pretty face, eyes nothing but kind. Fuck, he loves you, and he just wanted to show you that. To make Christmas as magical as it's supposed to be.

“I really wanted it to go well, you know?”

You realize then that he’s not only talking about today. That he’s been putting this pressure on himself all month to make plans and something has happened every time. You don’t blame him for that, if anything, it makes your heart ache with adoration.

“Steve, it doesn’t matter to me. Things happen, it’s okay,” you kiss his bicep lightly. “I’d rather things go a bit wrong with you than to have them go right with someone else. You are the best part.”

“I-” love you, he almost says. But he doesn’t want the first time to be like this, in a room that still stinks. “You’re the best part for me too, honey.”

You decide that next time, it’s your turn to do something for him.

Steve comes home from work on Christmas Eve, eyes tired and feet hurting despite having worn relatively comfortable shoes today.

He’d tried to get the day off, tried to be able to spend it with you in bed for hours and hours and not getting up until the afternoon. Keith had other plans for him.

He even tried to dramatize his wrist injury. Still, he was forced to go in.

Walking up the driveway, Steve sees the glow of lights inside filtering through the curtains. He’s fairly certain he hadn’t left any on, but he also knows he’s often wrong about these things, so he shrugs it off and goes inside.

There’s noise coming from the living room. Crackling of the fireplace that he barely ever uses, music playing quietly, and then he hears you humming along.

“Honey?”

“Yup, it’s me!”

You know where the spare key is, Steve’s the one who told you the information and encouraged you to use it, but you’ve often been too nervous to do so. Not today, it seems.

While Steve was at work, you’d set up your plan for him.

He follows the sound of your voice without much of a thought, a moth drawn to a flame. When he turns into the living room, he stills.

There are strings of warm white Christmas lights hung about, the fireplace is actually housing a fire, and in front of it is a fort made up of red and green and white blankets and pillows. Some plaid, some with snowflakes, all Christmas themed.

“Did you do all of this?” he asks, walking slowly to where you stand by the fort.

“Figured it was my turn to organize a date, don’t you think?”

“Baby. This is all really sweet, but wha-”

You cut him off, “Uh-uh. Let me explain.” You reach for Steve’s hands, and he meets you in the middle willingly. Suddenly nervous, you shift your weight on your feet. “I thought we could do presents a little early.”

His brows scrunch, “But Christmas is tomorrow.”

“Please?” you ask, squeezing his hands once.

And, really, Steve would never say no to you. Especially not when you’re saying ‘please’ all sweet and delicate like that.

“Okay,” he says. “Yours is in my room. I’ll go grab it. And change; I smell like Family Video.”

“‘Kay, Stevie.”

You kiss his cheek before he goes for good measure.

Steve is confused the entire time, wondering what it could be that you’re up to, but he does as he said he would. You’d been wearing a set of pyjamas (one he loves on you; a soft baby blue pair of shorts with a matching sweater), so he goes for one of his pairs of plaid pants and a plain t shirt before grabbing your messily wrapped gift bag from where he’d hidden it under his bed.

Back in the living room, he finds you now settled on the ground of the fort, which you’d lined with fuzzy blankets and the biggest of the pillows. His gift is sat beside you, a gift box wrapped in a lovely bow. Your skills of wrapping bouquets are transferable, he’s learned.

He joins you, sitting across from you, but close enough that your legs tangle and knees bump.

“You go first,” you tell him.

“Okay,” he scratches the back of his neck, handing you the gift bag. “Let me explain it before you say anything.”

That grabs your attention, but your plans aren’t about his present to you, really, and you know you’ll love it no matter what because Steve knows you better than anyone.

You lift out tissue paper first, uncovering multiple different things inside the bag, also wrapped. It pieces together as you go. A toothbrush, toothpaste, a hairbrush, your entire skincare routine, a couple of pyjama and underwear sets.

“It’s so you don’t have to bring an overnight bag every time you stay over now. I, um, cleared out a couple of drawers in my dresser and the bathroom.”

“Steve,” you look at him, heart squeezing. It’s so thoughtful, so him, and you surge forward you wrap your arms around his neck and breathe into his skin, “I love it. Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Perfect.

“You really think so?”

“Of course I do,” you sit back into your spot. “You know I hate carrying things.”

“I never let you carry anything, honey.”

“Exactly,” you nod. Now, you hold out his gift for him to take, “Your turn.”

You watch Steve’s hands as he tugs the bow undone, then lifts the lid of the box.

Nestled inside are four delicate ornaments. A Christmas tree, a snowman, an ice skate, and a plate of cookies. One for every date he’d planned for you.

Steve frowns at them, not because he doesn’t like them, but because he doesn’t quite understand where you’re going with this.

“I thought it was time we started collecting our own ornaments. For our place, one day,” you tell him.

“They’re lovely, but honey you- you really wanna remember these things?“ he shakes his head, more at himself than you. “I messed ‘em all up.”

“There’s one more thing in there,” you say quietly.

The thing you're nervous about. A thing you’ve never said out loud before.

Steve finds it beneath one of the ornaments, a small piece of paper folded up. When he opens that, his heart stutters in his chest. Written in your handwriting are three words: I love you.

He blinks away from the paper to look at you, though his thumb continues to trace the words absentmindedly. “Honey-”

“I love you, Steve. Okay?” You shift closer, kneeling at his side, your hands coming up to frame his jaw, your fingers kind against his skin. “I don’t care that things didn’t go how you planned. I mean, I would rather you didn’t require an ER visit, but the point is that I don’t need things to be perfect. And I know you’ve been hard on yourself trying to make them so.”

He lets go of the paper and reaches up to grasp your wrists, his thumb finding your racing pulse. His uninjured hand holds on tighter than the other.

“Thank you for trying for me,” you continue, “for caring. But no matter what happens, things are perfect for me. Because I get to do them with you. Got that, Harrington? You’re perfect, and I love you, and-”

He shuts you up with a kiss. It’s a simple but firm press of his lips against yours, but it says enough.

“I fucking love you too, honey,” he says, his forehead against yours, lips only a breath apart. “You saying all of that it means — you mean a lot to me.”

“Yeah, well, I meant it.”

“I know you did,” he nods. Steve pulls back the tiniest bit to be able to see your face fully, his sweet brown eyes locked on yours. “I wanted our first Christmas to be perfect, and I didn’t wanna let you down, but you’re right. They were perfect, because you’re here. And I love you for bein’ here.”

“As long as you’ll have me,” you say. You push his hair off his forehead before letting go of his face and sitting back, “Why don’t you give those ornaments a try?”

“On those trees?” he asks, eyebrows lifted, voice joking.

“Steve.”

”Okay, okay.”

He picks up the skate first. Surprising, considering that one had ended in a physical injury for him, but you say nothing and watch him walk over to your little trees by the window. You join him, sitting on the arm of the couch nearby while he scans over the tree.

“Pick a spot, handsome,” you encourage. “There’s really no wrong answer here.”

He goes to hang the first ornament, hand wavering before setting on a branch.

“Well, maybe not-” Steve tackles you onto the couch before you can finish. You dissolve into giggles as he pokes at your ribs, his head on your chest.

Steve’s done keeping score.

Perfect Christmas. That’s it.

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thank you so much for reading!! if you enjoyed please please consider leaving a comment and/or a reblog and letting me know what you thought! it would mean a bunch of<3

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington blurbs #steve harrington requests #steve harrington request #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve x reader

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fluentmoviequoter · 2 months ago

Text

Bradford Has a Princess

I used one of the amazing Tim Bradford ideas posted by @nevereclipse for this!! I hope you like it and it's along the lines of what you were thinking!☺️

Pairing: Tim Bradford x younger(24-26y/o)!fem!reader

Summary: Tim Bradford is whipped for you, treats you with nothing but the best princess treatment, and when his fellow officers call him out on it, he realizes how he truly feels about you.

Warnings: fluff! princess treatment and Tim being a SOFTIE™

Word Count: 1.6k+ words

You blow your hair out of your face before you tug it painfully behind your ear.

“Easy,” your boyfriend mutters, reaching over carefully. He gathers your hair much gentler than you had, pulls it loosely behind your ears, and uses the hair tie he wears around his wrist to secure it. “Better?”

You hum before you say, “Thank you, Tim.”

His hand moves down your back, resting comfortably against the base of your spine. After you finish your project, you take a paper towel from the nearby roll and wipe your hands.

“Need anything else?” Tim asks.

You smile over your shoulder as you rest against Tim’s chest. He’s older than you, and though some people might frown upon your relationship, you love him, not only because of the selfless way he treats you. Tim places his arm around your shoulders, then uses his free hand to pull your hand closer to him. He traces his thumb over your knuckles, then looks at your nails as his calloused palm holds you like you are the most precious thing in his life, in the world.

“I can make you an appointment at the nail salon you like,” he offers. “Tuesday?”

Tim shifts his hands, running his fingertips up and down your palm as he smiles.

“I can wait,” you answer. “I actually saw a kit online that lets you make your own nail art. Maybe I should try that next time.”

“Send me the link.”

Tim kisses your temple, then twirls the ends of your hair around his fingers. He decides he could spend forever here and wouldn’t even care what his friends thought about it.

“Tim!” Angela calls. “We’re all going to Andre’s.”

“Actually,” he begins.

“No, you skipped out the last three times, you’re coming with.”

“No arguments,” Nyla adds. “We might even make you pay.”

Tim sighs, his shoulders dropping as he nods. He follows them out of the station and is unsurprised to see Lucy, Nolan, Aaron, and Wesley waiting in the parking lot.

“Tim, you’re coming too?” Wesley asks. “I thought you’d finally sworn off fraternization.”

“Ha ha,” Tim deadpans.

“Can I ride with you?” Aaron asks. “My car’s getting a new wrap and Wesley’s backseat is a little tight with the carseats.”

Tim doesn’t answer but doesn’t say no, so Lucy nods and encourages Aaron to go. Aaron climbs into Tim’s passenger seat and buckles his seatbelt without a word.

“Oh,” he exclaims as Tim backs out of the space. “Who’s the Dior lip gloss belong to?” He lifts the tube out of the floorboard and recognizes it as part of a set his mom has. “This is expensive, they must be missing it.”

“She knows it’s here,” Tim grumbles, extending his hand to take it.

“Your sister?” Aaron guesses as Tim places it in the center console. He sees several other items, like a scrunchie, a receipt, and powder.

“None of your business,” Tim snaps. “Why are you getting an expensive car wrapped, anyway?”

“Because I can.”

Tim and Aaron fall silent, Tim thinking about you as Aaron wonders if the others know about the woman taking up space in Tim Bradford’s truck and in his life.

During your next date night, Tim opens the door for you, then wraps his arm around your waist as you enter the restaurant. He moves to his left to stand slightly behind you as you wait to be seated, and you smile over your shoulder at him.

At your table, Tim pulls your chair out for you, but you stop before you sit when someone says his name. You turn, and Tim’s shoulders tense beneath his blazer.

“Angela,” he greets tightly. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m on a date,” she answers with a smile. She looks at you before she asks, “And you?”

You sense the tension and interrupt to introduce yourself. You provide your name and shake her hand, then look to Tim.

“My girlfriend,” he tells Angela. “We’re on a date, so…”

“I’ll ask more later then. I mean that Timothy, you have a lot to tell me.” She turns toward you again and says, “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

Alone, you take Tim’s hand across the table and apologize for interrupting him and his friend. He promises that he wasn’t bothered by that and assures you that he wasn’t avoiding introducing you on purpose but was just surprised. You fall into easy conversation, as usual, and the date is over far too soon.

When the waiter leaves the check on the corner of the table, you ask, “Going Dutch?”

“Going insane if you think I’m letting you pay for a date,” Tim mumbles before speaking up to say, “My treat.”

Tim offers his blazer before you walk out into the windy Los Angeles night, and you wrap your hands around his arm as he leads you to his truck. You’ve never felt as loved and as cherished as you do with Tim Bradford.

As you enter Tim’s house, he uses your joined hands to pull you back toward him. He dips his chin, gesturing for you to sit on the couch, then lowers to the table before it. With a gentle touch, Tim runs his hands down your leg, from your knee to your ankle. After he hooks his finger under the strap of your heel, he pulls your foot up, resting your calf on his knee to unhook the small buckle against your ankle and remove your shoe. He repeats the process with the other shoe, then lays his hands on your knees and leans forward.

“Hi,” you whisper with a smile.

Tim smiles in the proximity, then runs his hands up your legs to rest on your thighs.

“I love you,” you add.

“I love you,” he replies before he moves beside you on the couch, cups the back of your neck in his hand, and pulls into a kiss that proves it.

Tim stops mid-step as he enters the roll call room the following morning. Angela and Aaron are perched atop the tables to watch him with matching looks.

“What?” Tim asks.

“You have a girlfriend,” Angela says.

“That I’m thinking you bought Dior for,” Aaron adds.

“Who are you and what did you do with Timothy Bradford?”

“Yes, I have a girlfriend, and I bought her some makeup,” Tim admits. “What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal?” Aaron repeats incredulously. “You, Tim Bradford, are whipped.”

“He took her to an expensive restaurant last night,” Angela tells Aaron without looking away from Tim. “I bet he footed the bill, too.”

“There is no reason to be discussing this at work,” Tim points out. “So, drop it.”

“Drop what?” Lucy asks from the doorway.

One word, Tim mouths to Aaron. Aaron nods, but Angela smiles. Tim knows he has no power over her, but when she changes the subject, he sighs and nods once. She’ll bring it up again when he least expects it, but for now, the ‘news’ of his ‘being whipped’ for you is contained. He isn’t ashamed of you, of course, but some things need to be private.

Immediately after walking into Tim’s house, he kisses you so hard that you can feel the sticky texture of your lip gloss as it smears from the corners of your lips and onto your chin. When he pulls back, holding you up as you blink at him, breathless, he uses his thumb to wipe away the shiny mess he made.

“I missed you too,” you say.

“I was told today that I’m whipped,” Tim replies.

You furrow your brows, and Tim taps his knuckle against your forehead and smiles as he shakes his head. You relax but hold his side as you wait for more information.

“Aaron and Angela know about you, and he told me I was whipped. I realized that he’s right.”

Terrified that Tim is about to break up with you after this realization, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. He huffs and tugs it free.

“I am more in love with you than I ever dreamed of being capable of. So…”

Tim is clearly trying to find the right words, and you smile as you offer, “Incandescently happy?”

“Completely and incandescently happy,” he agrees. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Tim smiles, then notices he disturbed your outfit with his sudden affection. He tugs the ridden-up fabric down over your hips before dragging his fingertips along your upper arm to fix your top.

“Remember when you bought me the makeup wipes?” you ask.

Tim nods and inquires, “Do you need them?”

You try to contain your smile but fail. “No, you just proved you can take off lip gloss without them.”

Tim tugs you closer, hooks his arms under your hips, and lifts you up. You gasp in surprise before gripping his shoulders. After he carries you to the kitchen and sets you on the counter, he takes your shoes off and stands between your legs.

“Should I make dinner or are you going to keep distracting me?”

You tap your finger against your jaw and pretend to ponder the question. “That depends… will your friends still be okay with this relationship when they find out you’re a cradle robber?”

“Maybe I should give you back then.”

You pout, and Tim kisses your forehead before he turns away. He passes you a bouquet of red roses, then sets a glass of your favorite beverage beside you. It’s the response you hoped for, and after you gently place the flowers aside, you pull Tim closer by his collar and smile against his lips.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford fic #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #tim bradford fluff #fem!reader #hanna writes✯#the rookie x reader #the rookie abc

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eviiesstuff · 18 days ago

Text

"You say it's big, but you take it."

Hi loves, this is my first time properly writing one of these, so feedback is totally welcomed. I take requests if you have anything specific for the next one, and it would be appreciated so I have more inspo on what to write, so feel free to leave one. Hope you enjoy! :)

!Minors DNI!! 18+ mature content!

Your new partner Joel is all you could possibly want and more. But he becomes even more to you when you see what he hasn't shown you yet.

Warnings;

(ingestion of alcohol, swearing, sexual/dirty talk, smut, fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex)

(No Outbreak Joel, Sarah is not present in this scenario)

The smell of fresh air compared to the sweaty and sticky air in the club was almost god-given as you stepped outside, a cold breeze fluttering against you, cooling the damp and hot skin.

Time had flown by, and 2am had approached. You weren't the type to abandon your friends, but after they became too drunk to function and nearly threw their own guts up on your shoes, you simply called them an uber hoping at least one of them were sober enough to direct the group into the car. You watched as they drunkenly piled into the car, babbling on that they would pay you for the ride. They weren't going to be anytime soon.

You sighed, watching the Uber pull away into the road and disappearing down the street. You would've gladly hopped in if there was room, but unfortunately not.

"fuck," you cursed quietly.

Home was nearly half an hour away, and by the god awful feeling of the ache in your heels. It was clear that the walk back was not happening, and neither was the 175 dollars you would have to pay for an Uber home as it was so late. Your fingers worried over the hem of your dress, thinking of a solution to your current lack of transport.

Joel.

Was it too late to call? 2am might be a stretch for him. Your thumb hovered over his contact on the phone screen after you entered the phone app, but you clicked on it anyway, not like you had any other choice at this point. The trill of the calling sound had happened many times, and hope was slowly easing away after each ring came and went.

"Hello?" His voice sounded somehow lower than usual, seemingly full of fatigue. A sense of relief came over you as his voice filled your ear. "Hey, I didn't wake you, did I?" You answered with an edge of worry to your voice.

"s' all good sweetheart, what's wrong?" he replied, his choice of gentle tone putting you at ease. You paused, biting down harshly at the skin of your lip. "I know it's late, but I'm kinda stuck outside the bar with no way to get home.."

"Y' need me to come n get you?" he practically finished for you, "Yeah basically," you offered.

A soft grunt came from his end of the line, like he was getting out of bed. "Send me your location, I'll come n get you," he said after a short moment. A smile spread to your lips. "Thanks," you whispered.

"You got it baby," he replied before the call was abruptly ended. You finished messaging him with your location before you clicked the phone off. Minutes passed, the ache of your feet grew in your heels, as well as the shiver from the briskly chilled air. It didn't take longer than 15 minutes to pass before you recognised a certain shined navy pick-up beginning to slow down as it advanced towards the side walk outside the bar.

You slowly walked over as it came to a stop, watching as Joel leaned over the centre console to open the passenger door before you got there, to which you happily slid into the leather seat, taking in the heat of the car gratefully. "Late night?" he asked with a smidge of amusement at your look of slightly drunken drowsiness. "Clearly," you muttered, leaning your head back against the leather rest behind you, eager to feel the relief of sitting in a warm space. You heard him huff a laugh, "alright just askin' " he protested. A hand came to your dress covered thigh, though you could still feel the heat from Joel's skin over the fabric. Watching his strong hand softly squeeze the flesh there, fingers flexing and moulding around the skin, the veins present on the back of his hand bulging more than usual. The feeling and the sight makes something stir quietly inside of you.

His grip doesn't waver when the truck pulls away from its parking space. "Yours or mine?" You hear him ask in a murmur.

"Yours."

The car ride can't seem to get any faster, as if it wants you to feel even more tortured. Joel's hand hasn't left its place since it got there, fingers grazing slightly higher, bringing the hem of your dress with it, causing the skin of your upper thigh to appear. His thumb dares to push its way between your inner thigh, dragging it in a sweeping motion against the skin absentmindedly. Your eyes flicker to him, gazing at his stern side profile as he drives, staring at the curve of his nose, and the sharpness to his stubble covered jaw, which clenches every now and again.

His thumb trails between your two legs, rubbing at the skin on the inside of your thigh, and you dare to squeeze the both of them together. It's as if he doesn't notice, or he simply isn't fazed when you do. His hand annoyingly doesn't move any further, and disappointment clouds your mind. Its as if he knows your thinking about it, can't help not teasing you in the process. He side eyes you, noticing your defeated expression, and the corner of his lip tugs upwards into a subtle side smirk, turning back to the view of the road.

You thank the Lord as his driveway and house come into view, and he pulls up infront of the garage. You breathe a sigh of relief as he retreats to get out the truck. However you immediately miss the warm feeling of his hand on your skin. The passenger door opens, and his hand is on you again, placing itself on the small of your back to guide you up the driveway. "Thanks for pickin me up," you whispered against his firm shoulder, resting your cheek against the soft sleeve of the t shirt he sported. His lips came to your temple, and you closed your eyes, feeling the sensation of him pressing a chaste kiss against it. "No problem baby," he replied, the soft vibration of his drawl in your ear making you nearly shiver.

The scent of wood faintly fills your nose once the both of you step inside, and you take notice of the crackling flames inside the Woodburner pride of place against the wall of the living room. Joel's house always felt comfortable, the man loved his wood burning.

You shrug off your jacket, and it's placed on the sofas arm. "Y' have a good time?". Joel is buisied in the kitchen, pouring an amber liquid into a thick glass. "Yeah," you replied slightly dazed. You simply watched, shamlessly staring at his back which looked as broad and imposing as ever, the rolled sleeves of his shirt struggling to hold in the muscle beneath, the skin slightly bulging out of the hem.

Everything about him was just so big. You'd thought a shameful amount of times about how big he could be elsewhere, but those thoughts had been passed to the back of your mind. Sure, you and Joel had fooled around, but it was early days in what you had going on. You were yet to discover other things about him, that you wished you knew, you really wished you knew.

After finishing the alcohol in a matter of seconds, he turned away from the counter, and you averted your eyes from his muscles. Your head gradually tilted upwards as he came nearer. Soon enough his hands braced at your waist, sliding one to your back as his eyes fell to your face. "Y' wanna go to bed?" he murmured, his eyes flickering all over your features.

You were tired, sure. But not tired enough. "Not yet," you replied, curling your hands around the fabric of his shirt, subtly tugging down to ask him to lean down. He caught on, pressing his forehead against yours, before he dipped down and his mouth pressed to yours. The kiss lasted for a gracious moment, his hands roaming and grabbing at any bare skin he could get. You felt his tash graze on your upper lip, but you didn't care, you had much bigger things swirling around in your mind.

His lips broke from yours, and you took a breath of air alongside him. He noticed your look, eyes silently begging for something he hadn't caught on to, lips slightly swelled and parted for more, so much more.

His finger trailed across your jaw, upwards to your lips, smoothing his thumb across the softness of them. "What t'is it baby?" He drawled.

"Joel," you whispered, instinctively leaning into the touch of his fingers, as you looked up to him. "Mm?"

"Y'need to tell me, or I can't help you sweetheart,"

"N' that's what I wanna do," he added.

You hesitated, taking in the gentle expression he held, his eyes boring into yours fiercely.

"I want..I want to do more," you responded, "More than what we've been doing,"

He hums in response, dragging his thumb into your hairline, pushing the baby hairs that fought against the style you'd done, carding his fingers through the strands. His eyes are thoughtfull as always, staring down at you deeply. "Yeah? that's it?" he asks, to which you nod a little to fast.

His gaze travels across the expanse of your face, neck, and the beginning of your collar bone. "So fuckin' beautiful, so perfect," His lips brush against your jaw, placing short yet purposeful kisses that continue down your neck, feeling the damp spots appear on your skin. You sigh at the sensation. He eventually captures your lips again, pulling you into a kiss that begins painfully slow, but he wastes no time, gently gripping the back of your head to apply even more pressure to the kiss, his lips slotting and moulding against yours, tongue sliding against them, and you let him in with greatfullness.

The feeling of his tongue breaching your mouth, eagerly licking into it makes you moan softly, slipping your fingers into his hair, dragging them through the locks ontop of his head, pulling delicately at the roots to which he grunted. Your tongue joining the kiss as it clashed and swirled against his hungrily, lips becoming slightly sore from the sheer pressure of the action, yet it felt awfully good. "I'll give you everythin baby, everythin you want," he whispered between breaks, the both of you gasping for air against the heat of the kiss, your body desperately pressing against the firmness of his chest, his sturdy arms caging you in in response.

His hand moved to the zipper of your dress, breaking from the kiss momentarily to give you a look of ask. "Please," you urged, pressing your hips firmly against his as even more of a 'yes'. He groaned softly, eyebrows creasing at the action. He pulled at the zipper, sliding it down enough so he could push the straps of your dress down, whilst hiding his face in your neck as he slathered kisses all over your skin. "Oh-" you gasped, inhaling sharply as he slid the top of your dress from its place exposing the lace of your bra. The sight making him sigh once he lifted his face from your neck, eyes travelling hungrily over your breasts covered by the bra.

His arousal deepened, and you felt it clearly through his jeans, gasping softly at the feeling of his hardness against your clothed cunt. It simply made you want more faster. "Joel-" you urged. "I know baby," he replied, still marvelling at the sight of your breasts before him. "Joel- let's go to bed," you encouraged, to which he pressed another kiss to your lips, and again. "The bed can wait," he retorted, hands bracing at your hips, acting as a guide to push you to the couch, looking up once you hit the couch, watching him stare you down, a stare that caused fluttering throughout your body, warmth growing rapidly in your stomach. Not a moment later he's caging you in, arms either side of your head as you fumble with the buttons of his shirt, kissing his lips sloppily as you go.

Your no longer drunk only on alcohol, but on Joel. His smell of the masculine cologne that emitted from his neck. His large hands gripping at your flesh, broad shoulders crowding your whole self. it was all too much and not enough all at once. You unbuttoned his shirt keenly, sliding it down his shoulders to expose the tanned skin of his bare torso, your eyes flickering down to the prominent v line that disappeared underneath his jeans, which had become significantly tighter. You almost moaned at the sight of him half bare, trailing your hands along his smooth skin, feeling the toughened and firm muscle under your fingers. "Joel," you uttered, grasping at his fore arms to pull him closer.

"I know," he replied, "I know darlin' "

Your hips pushed upwards against his, desperately seeking some friction as you grinded your hips against his. He groaned as your clothed cunt made firmer contact with his crotch which was painfully hard by now. staring down at you with a fierce amount of hunger behind his eyes, pupils blown wide with lust and need as he gazed at your half exposed chest. Tugging at the fabric, your dress slipped further down your body, and he eagerly grabbed at your bra, one handedly unclapsing it at the back. "y' want me to touch you baby?' he murmured, smoothing his hand across the valley of your now bare breasts upon the whine you emitted. "God- Please," you urged. "you gotta tell me sweetheart," he responded, his face visibly twisting in pleasure at the sight of your perfectly shaped breasts, his hand big enough to take one in his hand, kneeding the soft fat of them as he watched your lashes flutter excessively and listened to the gasps that left your lips. "Gotta tell me what you want,"

"touch me please" you replied, looking up to him through your lashes, purposely pressing yourself against his erection growing heavy in his jeans. You could practically feel how big he was through the denim, see the shape of his dick through the fabric. You felt yourself growing increasingly aroused, wetness collecting between your thighs, feeling it dripping and dampening the flimsy cloth of your panties and shuddering at the feeling.

Joel hummed in response, "Can I take his off?" he asked softly, gesturing to the dress halfway down your waist. "Please," you whispered, nodding eagerly. You watched as he slid the fabric further down, his hands dwarfing your waist as they travelled down your body, until your dress was off, leaving your soaked panties the only source of cover. Joel groaned lowly at the sight of the wet spot on the lace cloth. "You're so damn wet already," he mumbles, "So fuckin wet, all for me?"

"All for you," you whined, watching him slide the flimsy underwear down your legs, and your body is all bare for him to see. "so pretty, so fuckin pretty," he praised, hands gripping at your hips, one slipping down to graze your inner thigh, "You want me to touch you? touch you here baby?" He asked, gently swiping his thumb up and down your pussy, gasping lowly at the feeling of how dripping you were for him. "Yes- Please god," you pleaded, your hips bucking up into his touch, "Don't stop Please," you begged, shuddering at the feeling of him thumbing at your clit.

"I won't darlin' your doing so good, so damn good" he praised, marvelling at the sight of your glistening cunt that was no doubt aching for him to touch more. His fingers circled around your clit like he loved it, completely engrossed in the sweet sounds you were making.

"that's it baby-" he murmured, watching your face contort with sheer pleasure as he circled his finger around your entrance, feeling it dripping with arousal. You let out a choked moan as he pushed a finger gently into you, stopping when it reached the knuckle. "Oh fuck- joel," you whimpered, "Fuck," you whispered, the sight of his large and calloused finger sliding in and out of your pussy made you moan, feeling so full by just one of his digits. "Good girl," he praised, his other hand traveling upwards to cup your breast, kneeding the soft flesh as he set a pace of sliding his finger in and out of your dripping entrance, moments later adding a second. Your cunt clenched around the size of his now two fingers entering you at a staggering speed, you craned your head down to capture the sight below, Joel's large dampened fingers slipping in and out of your pussy as his thumb rubbed against the most sensitive place on your clit. Gasping and clenching helplessly, the warm feeling deep in your stomach grew, filling you with esctasy.

The sensation was so big, so much that you felt close already, your whines becoming more louder as you reached that euphoric feeling you were chasing. "Joel, God im gonna-fuck joel!" you cried out desperately. "thats it, cmon baby," he urged, his fingers relentlessly fucking into you, not giving you any relief, not that you wanted any anyway. you gave a strangled moan, struggling to catch your breath as the warmth in your stomach grew and grew, and it finally snapped, gripping onto Joel's bicep for support as a indescribable feeling of pleasure washed over you.

Your body shuddered as you came, your cunt clenching and fluttering around his fingers as he watched your eyebrows knit together in pleasure, eyes closed as you moaned at the feeling of your orgasm. "Fuck," he groaned.

His eyes marvelled all over you, gasping lowly at the sight of your glistening pussy before him. Damp, sweaty skin shivering from the aftermath of your orgasm. "Fuck baby," he commented, hand rubbing at the soft flesh of your thigh encouragingly.

Your hands tugged on his biceps, urging him into a kiss as you came down from such a high. Your tongues roughly intertwined as you grasped the back of his head, yours and his damp skin clashing and smoothing together. His hands swept round your back, gently gripping the skin. The both of you pulled away for air, and you looked up to meet his eyes.

Half lidded eyes flickered up to meet yours, his styled hair had come loose, tumbling over his forehead as it stuck to his skin, lips swelled and parted in breath. "I wanna feel you," you whispered between pants. His eyes studied yours for many seconds. "Fuck-" he mumbled, giving you a swift once over before his hand came to the back of your neck. "yeah? " he drawled lowly, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

The buttons of his jeans soon came undone, and he discarded them swiftly as they came down his legs. Not much was left to imagine when you saw his hardened dick against his boxers, the sheer size behind the dark fabric causing you to shiver.

The more skin uncovered, the more you yearned and ached to feel him, to wrap your hands around his broadness. To have his hold you firm against him whilst you took in every single sensation. You audibly moaned at the thought as he rid himself of all clothing, staring at the sight infront of you.

He was so big, beyond what you imagined, your mouth felt wetter than ever before. The muscles of his stomach and the prominent v line that drew the path to his dick were unbelievable. His dick was hardened, thick and glistening at the head with pre-cum, enough to make your mouth water. "Joel," you uttered, grabbing at his shoulders once you had took him in, but it still didn't feel like you'd looked enough. "I know sweetheart," he replied, sitting back into the couch as you swung a leg over his, his hands finding your hips. "You sure?" he suddenly interjected, giving your sides a encouraged squeeze as you nodded. "m' sure," you replied a little dazed, feeling the wetness gathering between your thighs once again.

You felt his dick against your cunt, and the both of you gasped. Joel rose from lying back on the couch to meet you, desperate to properly wrap his hands around your middle. Almost immediately, you lifted your hips. Watching as his cock came even nearer to your entrance as you lowered yourself down. The head of his cock breeched you, and you gasped as the sensation, his dick nudges inside of your dripping cunt, and you gladly let it. Joel groaned as he felt and watched you sink down onto him, welcoming your pussy as it clenched around him immediately. "Joel-" you choked out, biting down on your lip harshly once you reached the hilt. "So fucking big," you groaned, and he huffed a laugh. "You can take it baby trust me,"

"trust me, just relax," you hear him whisper into your neck, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the skin on your shoulder.

His hands pressed against your hips, uttering a curse as you began to move, rocking your hips weakly against his. "Fuuck," he whispered, watching your face stirred with pleasure as you moved up and down on his cock with a quickened pace, the hands on your hips guiding your moments encouragingly. "So good baby," he urged, groaning as your cunt clenched around him. Your whines filled the air, the sounds heightening when his cock hit a particular place inside, sending a indescribable feeling down your thighs, and a chill spreading down your spin.

Joel watched as your tits bounced in a soft motion at the movements, so perfect looking, just like the rest of you in this moment. "That's it sweetheart," he said, capturing your lips in a searing kiss right in the heat of the moment, pressing you against him as you rode him. Your nails scratching at his back, clawing at the skin. Your head was in the clouds, moans muffled against his lips as his tongue ran against your bottom lip, kisses sloppily shared. That familiar feeling was building in your stomach, the warmth beginning to heat up, swirling. "M' close," you whined between kisses. clenching your thighs around his legs to hold onto him tighter. "I know baby,"

The sounds filled the room, skin slapping together, quickened and desperate pants and breaths, groans and whines that grew louder as the two of you became significantly closer. Joel raised his hips up to meet yours with every bounce you did on his cock, beginning to fuck up into you, fingers digging into your skin daring to leave bruises from the pressure. Your eyes rolled upwards, lips parted to form an 'o' shape as he fucked up into you. The size of his dick was overwhelming, filling you to the near brim with pleasure, smacking against that one place deep inside that made you groan and curl your fingers into his hair, shuddering at the relentless pace of his thrusts.

"good girl," he lowly reminded, his perspirated skin pressing against yours, even firmer with every motion. "knew you could take it," you hear him groan into your skin as he grew closer and closer, you knew by the act of his thrusts becoming sloppier and his moans becoming more strangled.

You came probably harder than you had ever before, crying out from the sudden snap of your orgasm, launching a burst of pleasure all at once as you writhed and clenched around his dick still pushing in and out of you, but Joel wasn't far away from his either way. He groaned shakily as you felt him swiftly pull out just after he got you through your high. You shuddered as you felt him leave you, immediately missing the feeling of him being so far and deep into your pussy. Seconds later thick stripes of white painted your stomach, and the both of you collapsed on each other, bodies heaving and panting as you both came down from your high's, Joels arms still cradling your back tightly, hands smoothing up and down your warm and damp skin.

He looked ridiculously good even now, the small collection of fine lines coated with a sheen of sweat, and his eyes slightly weary as he looked you over. "okay?" he murmured, smoothing back your unruly hair, to which you nodded.

"Joel?"

"Mm,"

"we can go to bed now,"

Thank you for reading! Make sure to leave a like, or give your requests, would be very much appreciated. I will start writing for other characters and will release a list soon on who i will write on. Thanks lovely's <3

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #joel miller smut

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