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seventeenpins · 10 months ago

Text

a slight miscalculation - pt. i

pairing: Joel x F!Reader

word count: 8.3k

summary: Sarah is off to college, and Joel is about to be living in an empty nest. They road trip out together, and as she spends her first night in her new apartment, he's staying in a nearby hotel. Letting go of his inhibitions for the first time in a long time, he tumbles into a one night stand that becomes very complicated, very quickly.

content/warnings: smut, age gap, mycologist!reader, dick sucking, implied pussy eating, fingering, no outbreak au, reader likes to hike, reader also infodumps, joel miller has a big cock, he also has anxiety, reader has anxiety too, and a cat, reader is in early 20s--exact age not established, one (1) use of daddy, alcohol and weed consumption, joel is a diligent condom wearer, set in present day, discussion of girl scout cookies, joel is sweet and soft and hasn't been eviscerated by the death of his daughter

a/n: I'm intending this to be about five parts. This may change, but right now it's looking like five. I've been struggling to write for a while, unable to focus, but I think I'm back at it? as always, your feedback is hugely appreciated, and i'm kissing all likers and commenters and rebloggers deeply and with tongue 🩷

check out pt. ii

For the first time in nineteen years, Joel is completely adrift. Sarah's starting college in just two months.

It's the kind of realization that hits him like a bucket of ice water, a sudden shock and then an unpleasant trickling of anxiety wrapping about him in nasty tendrils. And then he feels guilty, because he's so, so happy for Sarah because he knows that she's thrilled, but fuck she's gonna be two time zones away and now what's Joel meant to do on Thursday movie nights when he's here without her?

It's terrifying, and it's new. And it's not that he's new to anxiety. He's usually anxious, and he has the Sertraline on his bedside stand to prove it. But if his general anxiety baseline usually hovered around a 6.4, where he was at now far surpassed a 10. It felt exponential, and totally exhausting.

When he voices his fears to Tommy, to Joel's horror, Tommy just doubles over in laughter.

"Jesus, Joel," he wheezes, wiping fake tears from his eyes in exaggerated movements, "You looked so serious I thought you were gonna say you'd killed someone."

Joel scowls. "The fuck you laughing for?"

"She's going to college, it's not like she's dying!"

"How'm I gonna be there for her? What if she needs me? What if-"

"Joel-," Tommy pats him gently on the shoulder, "She can always call you, and you can always call her. And we both know she's got a good head on 'er shoulders."

Joel snorts in concession. "Yeah, yeah. Better than yours and mine put together, and then some."

"Exactly." Tommy agrees, "And if there's ever anything that really goes wrong, you got me. We can drive out together and make sure she's okay."

Joel nods and feels the tiniest bit of tension leave him. One step at a time.

Just over nineteen years ago he found out he was about to be a dad. Suddenly, he had a purpose. Having a kid at twenty-two wasn't something he'd ever intended, but somehow he knew he loved his baby girl from the moment he knew she was a possibility. He spent a solid seven months running around, hustling, doing everything he could to get the very best for his kid. He'd take on doubles, working himself to the bone to make sure they had the best crib, and the best stroller, too. He was thrilled and terrified and so, so green.

Now, his heart feels so big he doesn't know how to handle it. His baby girl is an honest-to-god adult, moving out and going to college, and he has no idea what he's gonna do with his time now.

He has work, of course. But beyond that? He's really gotta to widen his circle, he realises, because who's he gonna hang out with? His brother?

He'd only just turned forty-one and had absolutely not come to terms with an empty nest--the few friends from high school he'd kept in touch with were so much further behind than him. The ones that had kids had them later in their twenties and thirties, and now they're raising middle schoolers while Joel's kid is a real fucking person, leaving home and everything. All the scrapping and saving he'd been doing since before Sarah was born–for his little girl to be able to follow any dream she chose–it was finally paying off. The precocious young woman she is, she graduated early and spent nearly a year working retail to save up some cash. She'd applied to colleges all across the country, and a few international ones, too. Joel had been crossing his fingers for months, hoping she'd choose something near Austin, but cheered with her all the same when she got her acceptance letter from Oregon State University. The previous summer, just before she'd started her applications, she and Joel and Tommy spent a miserable, wonderful week hiking round the Pacific Northwest. She fell in love with it, and the university offered a few of the majors she wanted to consider.

Joel didn't know what he'd do with his baby girl so far away, his life, his reason, but he sure as hell wasn't gonna tell her that. He will not clip her wings. His baby's gonna change the world and he's not gonna hold her back. He is, though, gonna require regular phone calls and check-ins and god they grow up so fast.

"Y'all should road trip out there," Tommy suggests one night over the dinner table.

Joel knew the conversation of how Sarah would get to the West Coast would come up, and it oughta be sooner rather than later. He was half afraid that she wanted to head out on her own, that she didn't need her dad anymore. Worried she would say she wanted to get a plane ticket, or take the Amtrak all the way to Corvallis. But he knows he needs to loosen his grip a little, so he braces himself when he turns to her.

"What'dya think, Sarah? You wanna be stuck in a car with your old man for a cross-country trip?"

Sarah rolls her eyes, but her face breaks into a grin. "Can we, Dad?"

This was too good to be true, he knew, but he wasn't gonna give up one last opportunity to spend some time with his girl till winter break.

"Course, baby," he tells her, and that flicker of anxiety quells just the tiniest bit.

The next few weeks fly by, and the knot of anxiety in Joel's chest feels like it's consuming him from the inside out. He's taken some time off, more than Sarah or Tommy can remember, but he's constantly trying to suggest ideas for activities to Sarah. For the most part, she's a good sport, understanding how much it means to her dad. She took pity on him, and let him drag her to places that ideally she would've gone to when she was little, but she humored him and he appreciated her dedication. He did his best to step back when she was heading out to spend time with friends--her time here was limited, after all, and she was always a social butterfly.

There are five weeks till classes start, four weeks, three, two, and in the blink of an eye, they're loading up the truck with all of Sarah's things, and Tommy is hugging Sarah goodbye, teary eyed. He gives Joel a hug, too. Joel would never admit it, but fuck he had really needed that hug.

They would take the scenic route. Make a memorable trip of it. Joel would make sure she settles in safe and sound, and then he'd head home.

6am Sunday.

You wake with a start. It's just over a week before term starts and your entire body aches. Fuck, you think to yourself, definitely overdid it with that last hike.

(The hiking part wasn't itself a problem, but one of the trails had washed out. You thought you'd found your way, but the "easy" three and a half mile hike took about five hours, leaving your calves bruised and your heels blistered.)

You roll over in your hotel room bed and, at the sound of a slight yelp followed by a gentle thud, realise with a sudden start that you just catapulted your cat off the corner.

"Shit, sorry goblin," you tell Spatula, who glares up at you with disdain as he licks at his paw. You reach down and, despite your inadvertent cat launch, he immediately rubs up against your fingertips and lets you scratch behind his ears.

"I'm sorry, baby," you soothe.

He meows, loudly. Howls, really. You take it as an apology accepted.

You sit up properly and look at your phone calendar. Nothing immediate. You don't need to get keys to your new apartment till tomorrow, nor do you meet your roommates till then–they're both moving in today, and moving is already horrible without having to navigate around the belongings of two other people. No, thanks. You can afford one more night at the hotel, and it'll make everything go that little bit more smoothly tomorrow. Besides, you have a bit of reading you'd like to get through, maybe stock up on non-perishables till you have a full-sized fridge, and get to know the city just a little.

You move gingerly, testing the ache in your muscles as you unfold yourself from the position you've been sat in and pull yourself from the bed. It hurts, but not something that won't be fixed with a little movement.

A plan forms. First, a walk, to try and loosen up your tight muscles. Then, errands. You have a whole list, with everything categorised by store, but then you enter IKEA and exit fifteen minutes later, only to find that five and a half hours have passed and it's evening now.

How was it that IKEA harnessed such a malicious power. How could anything harness that?

You need a fucking break. And a goddamn drink.

"Hey Dad," Sarah calls from the adjacent bedroom as Joel sweats, hauling another box towards her. The drive has been good, but it has been long. His legs ache. His back aches. There are parts of him that he didn't know existed that now ache.

"Yeah?" he calls back.

"Are you sure you're okay with me staying here tonight?"

Joel lets out a breath. He wants to be okay with it. And there's no way his nineteen year old would want to hang out with her dad when she could be spending the very first night in her brand new apartment. But he also wishes she wanted to spend one last night, hanging out in a hotel room with her dad. They could watch shitty movies together. Make the most of the final night before this cataclysmic shift.

But no.

That'd just be him being selfish. He can handle a night by himself. He's gotta handle a whole lotta them soon enough.

"O'course baby," he nods, hoping the smile he's plastered on his face looks totally genuine. "But we're still doin' breakfast in the morning, right?"

She nods, vigorous, and then waves her phone around. "I was looking up places! There's a diner called Tommy's," she laughs, "Wanna try that? 9:30?"

"Let's do it," he smiles, and this one is a little less forced.

"How much more do we have?" Sarah asks, nodding towards the box Joel's still holding.

"Last box," he grunts, "What else can I help with?"

He places the box down and lets out a slight, almost silent whimper. Sarah catches it, though.

"Maybe you should take it easy the rest of the day, Dad," she tells him, "We both know you have old man back."

He rolls his eyes but nods. "Guess you're right," he shrugs, "That my cue to take off?"

Sarah blushes but turns to him sheepishly. "Yeah, I-"

"No need to explain," Joel assures, "I know you must wanna get unpacked and settle in, get to know your roommates an' all."

She jumps up and, almost startling him, wraps her arms around him in a bear hug.

"Love you, dad," she grins, and she squeezes just a little tighter than usual.

He squeezes back, and they both pretend there aren't tears in his eyes.

As you step through the doors of the hotel bar, you decide you like it. The lighting is comfortably low. It's not loud, but it's not quiet, either. Colorful bottles line the shelves, the light of the filament bulbs glinting off the glass in rainbow prisms.

You take a seat at the bar and give a nod of thanks as the bartender passes you a small menu. It's unsurprisingly extortionate, hotel bar and all, but it'll do.

"Old fashioned, please," you tell the bartender, who nods in response. A minute later, he hands you a glass, delivered with a twist of orange and a cherry on top.

With your first sip, you feel your shoulders start to relax and some of the tension loosen from your body. The warmth of the burn envelops you and your stress starts to unravel, leaving only the buzz feeling good.

You order a second, and as the glass is handed to you, a voice to your right catches your attention.

"This seat taken?" a man asks.

You shake your head and offer a quick smile, gesturing towards it, "All yours."

"Much obliged," he nods, and slips into the backless stool next to yours.

The bartender comes over and passes him the same menu, but without looking at it he asks, "Could I get an old fashioned?"

You smile and catch his eye, tipping your glass towards him. "An excellent choice," you praise, "Though if you don't have a sweet tooth, I'd recommend asking Jeff there if he can go easy on the simple syrup."

"Oh yeah?" He asks, and then he leans in conspiratorially. "T'tell you the truth, I do have a bit of a sweet tooth."

You raise an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

Suddenly, he breaks into a grin and it's dazzling.

"Yeah," he laughs, "I've got cookies stashed in secret locations all through my house."

You raise an eyebrow. "If I keep 'em in my pantry, my brother'll find 'em and eat 'em all," he explains, "But ever since my kid was a girl scout, I always get cravings for girl scout cookies, so I buy an armful o'boxes and try and preserve 'em throughout the year, till I can replenish."

"What's your favorite girl scout cookie?"

"Caramel deLites, hands down."

"Oh yeah?"

"Absolutely," he nods.

The bartender, Jeff, sets the man's drink down with a clink. You catch one another's eye and both erupt into a fit of laughter.

You're not even sure what's funny. Maybe it's just been a long day? Maybe the whiskey was getting to you?

Whatever it is, it feels good.

The man takes a sip of his drink and lets out an aaaahh and it's goofy and charming and then he extends his hand.

"Joel," he tells you, "Joel Miller". You shake his hand, introduce yourself, and then take a sip of your own drink.

"So, tell me about yourself," you smile, "You coming from out of town?"

"Yes ma'am," he nods, "Come up here from Austin."

"Texas?"

Joel nods.

"That's a long trip."

"Yeah," he laughs, "It really is."

"So, you're a nice Southern boy, huh?"

"Well," he swishes his glass and tries to bite back a smile, "I don't know that I'd go quite so far, but my mama did raise me to be a gentleman."

"That so?" you ask and his blush deepens.

"I... have been known to get up to some trouble, but I like to think I've mellowed in my old age." He gestures at the beautiful little smatterings of silver at his temples, and you cackle.

"Okay, that's hot," you tell him and he chokes, but you keep going, "Old age, though? What are you, like, forty?"

He exhales, chagrined. "Forty-one."

You roll your eyes. "That ain't old."

"It feels it sometimes," he smiles, "My kid is grown. My little brother's married with a kid of his own on the way. My back hurts, pretty much all the time."

You snort. You also notice, without trying to look, that he doesn't have a wedding band. Doesn't have a tan line for one, either. Interesting.

"But more than that," he continues, "I guess I feel- I don't know. A little... aimless?"

"Yeah," you nod, and you let the moment sit. "I get that."

He lets out a little breath, and then turns back to you, focused.

"What about you? Where're you from?"

"Oof," you exhale, "All over. Spent a bit of time on the East coast. The Midwest. Lived a few months in the South, even," you tease as you bump your shoulder into his and he laughs. It's a surprisingly familiar gesture, but miraculously comfortable.

"Ever make it to Texas?"

"Naw," you shake your head, "My time in the South was all in Mississippi. After that I moved out to California, and I've been slowly working my way up the West Coast."

"And what have you been enjoying about the West Coast?" Joel asks.

"The mushrooms," you grin, and Joel frowns.

"Like, the kind you get in a little baggy from the dealer down the street, or-?"

"No," you laugh, "Or, well- Okay, sometimes. Gotta say it is great out here for that, too. But I mean fungus as a whole--mushrooms, mold, yeast, lichen. But I'm most interested in mushrooms. They're just really fuckin' cool, and there's so much we don't understand about them. And, they're delicious."

"Huh," Joel ponders, "T'tell you the truth, I've never thought much about mushrooms, besides enjoying 'em as a pizza topping."

"Most people don't," you agree, "But fuck, like-- Okay, so we know there are over five million types of fungi on Earth, but we've identified less than two percent of them. Some fungus aids decomposition. Some fungus is bioluminescent. Some are known worldwide for their delicious flavours, and others are known by the slow, horrible ways they kill you."

Joel raises his eyebrows, and suddenly you feel a little self conscious.

"Sorry, I do this," you laugh, rubbing at the back of your neck, "I get very excited about fungus and manage to alienate everyone around me."

You half expect him to stand up and walk away.

Instead, though, he leans in closer. "Don't apologise," he tells you, "I'm learning something new. Tell me more?"

"No, I should stop. Otherwise I'll never stop talking," you wince.

"How about just one more fungus fact?"

You sit for a minute, pondering. "This is- well, I guess this is one of the reasons I find fungus so fascinating. So, fungus can't photosynthesise the way that plants do--they can't produce their own food from sunshine, and water, and carbon dioxide. Instead, their mycelium-- they're these thread-like networks--they branch out beneath the earth, seeking out food, growing in the direction where it can find the nutrients it needs and breaking down organic material all around them, sometimes living organisms, as a parasite, and sometimes dead organisms as a decomposer, or both. And it's just- It's this hidden world, that exists right beneath the surface even in some of the extreme places on earth, temperature-wise. And most days, we don't even think about it."

You punctuate your thought with a large swallow of your drink, which is half-watered down now that the ice is melted, and doesn't hit quite as hard as you'd hoped, but then you look up at Joel and he's smiling at you, pensive, and--

"That's- That's actually really interesting."

Before you can respond, though, Joel glances at his watch and balks. It is getting late. "Shit," he shakes his head, "I think I oughta call it a night," he says, pulling back. "Early morning tomorrow, and if I stay at the bar I'll just keep drinkin'."

Fuck. That's a dismissal. Of course you went on too much about mushrooms. You'd fucked this up. You'd thought this was going well, but now it felt like a bucket of cold water was dumped over you. "Oh," you nod, matching his posture, and try to swallow down the sudden wave of disappointment. "Of course. Have a good night, Joel."

Joel stands up and then looks you up and down, considering. It's not brazen, but it isn't shy, either. And then understanding flashes across his face.

"Wait- Sorry, that's not how I meant it." He reaches out towards you and you melt into his touch. "I'm messin' this up." He chuckles, but it sounds pained. "Now look, I don't wanna make any presumptions. And I'm really hopin' I'm not coming off as some--dirty old man. Jesus, I haven't done this in a while. But I'm in room 308."

Your eyebrows shoot up. What you'd taken for disinterest was just--nerves?

"I reckon I'll be awake for a while yet. You're welcome to... drop by."

The disappointment melts, making way for a fluttering in your stomach.

"Twenty minutes," you assure him, "308?"

He nods and he brakes into a sheepish grin, shedding what you now realise had been something of an anxious wince. "308."

You watch him leave. When he's out of sight, you toss back the rest of your watery drink and go to pay your tab, but Jeff tells you it was already settled. You thank him and tuck your shaking hands in your pockets. You feel an electricity running through you as you take the elevator up.

When you get back to your room, you hop into the shower, just to freshen up--you keep your hair dry but scrub your body. Once you're clean, you brush your teeth.

Stepping back out of the en suite, you survey the hotel room. Spatula is lounging on the corner of the bed, entirely uninterested in your movements. You top up his dry food bowl and place a kiss between his ears before slipping out.

When you knock at Joel's door, you hear a slight rustle and clatter and then the door swings open, Joel's staring a little wide-eyed, like he didn't actually expect you to show. He's wearing grey sweats and a Johnny Cash t-shirt that looks like it's been around nearly as long as you have. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, an anxious tell that's desperately endearing.

"C'mon in," he smiles, and you step in, closing the door behind you.

You reach out to cup his face, delighting in the feeling of coarse stubble beneath your fingertips. Your first kiss is chaste. You both lean forward and press your lips to one another gently, exploring.

Then, you let out a little moan and Joel shudders. Heat surges between you, and his hands are cradling your head and brushing your cheek and he's pinning you against the closed door. You're kissing again, nothing chaste remaining, learning the taste of him, his rhythm, the crashing waves of give and take between you.

You wrap one leg around him and smirk when he lets out a throaty groan as you grind against his hard cock. You're pretty sure he's not wearing underwear, the thick bulge seemingly unconstrained in his grey sweats, the whole length pressing against your thigh.

Your head falls back and you let out soft, breathy noises as his lips trace along your collarbone, up your throat, and against that tender little spot behind your ear. When he puts your earlobe between his lips and presses his teeth gently against the skin, your knees go weak and he chuckles, strong arms wrapping around you, holding you up.

"Bed?" he asks, and you breathe yes and then, with a yelp and a throaty chuckle, you're lifted up and spun around and both tumbling into the duvet.

You're grasping at each other, desperate to keep your hands on one another. The only times you part is when you undress, and even then, you're helping each other--pulling the hem of his shirt over his lifted arms, pressing into him as he reaches around and moves to unhook your bra, but then he realises you're not wearing one and lets out a groan, his thumbs brushing alongside the tender skin along your ribs, moving gently as if to cup your breasts, but then he pulls back.

Normally you might wait, do this part slowly, draw out the tease just a little bit longer.

Tonight, though, you're ravenous.

As you fiddle with the buttons of your pants, you tug at the drawstring keeping Joel's sweats on his hips. The bow comes loose in one smooth motion, and he lifts his hips and you pull the sweats down.

Your mouth immediately waters seeing him bare, laid out for you. You watch a bead of precum drip down the head and pool on his belly. The coarse hair of his happy trail glistens with it. He's thick, uncut, and looks painfully hard, his cock head ruddy. "Fuck, you're beautiful," you tell him, and his cheeks redden but he grins. It's boyish, the way he grins, and devastatingly charming.

And, what you're saying is true. His body is gorgeous, something you wish you could sketch. Soft flesh over hard muscle, visible tan lines where his chest and shoulders are noticeably lighter than his arms. The muscles and veins along his throat are driving you absolutely fucking insane as he swallows and looks up at you.

He's got freckles on his shoulders, too, and without thinking, you lower yourself down to kiss at his shoulder. He shakes, just a little, and lets out the most beautiful gasp. It's addictive, pulling these noises from him. You follow the curve of him, giving him a taste of his own medicine--tracing feather-light kisses along his collarbone, up the tendons of his neck, behind his ear. You can feel the blood pulse in his veins as your lips brush along him. Joel goes from panting lightly to full on groaning, rutting his hips up towards you and, frustrated, meeting only air.

"Can I taste you?", you ask, and Joel lets out a half-strangled sound and nods, vigorous.

You scoot back, lower yourself, poke out your tongue and, without any preamble, lick at the slit of his head, tasting the salty, tangy precum.

Joel tips his head back and groans and you decide to be kind. You grasp onto his hips and take him in your mouth, slowly sinking down, inch by inch by inch and now you can feel him at the back of your throat, your saliva dripping down the shaft and collecting in the hair between his thighs.

You bob your head up and down, taking him deeper with each thrust, but your throat is full and there are still inches to go. You relax, doing everything you can to take him deeper, and he starts to thrust up gently.

You let him fuck into your mouth but release one of his hips, allowing him to move as freely as he needs and freeing up your hand, which you shove into your underwear, rubbing furiously at your clit.

It doesn't take much to lose yourself in it, to focus only on the sensation. You're so wet, slick coating your fingers, making the glide that much smoother as you touch yourself. Joel tastes so good, too, the intrusion of his cock the most delicious thing, feeling the way he shudders when you moan, the way he moans when you shudder.

"Fuck-" Joel gasps, and then there's a hand guiding you gently off of him.

You raise an eyebrow. "You okay?"

He swallows, hard, and nods. "More than okay. Felt too fuckin' good."

"Oh yeah?" and you lean down, as if to take him back in your mouth, but he chuckles and pulls you back again.

"It's been... a while. For me. And-" He drags his palm down his face, wearing an almost pained expression. "Christ, you just look too fuckin' good down there, mouth stretched 'round me while you touch yourself. An' it feels too fuckin' good, too. I ain't ready for this to be over yet but if you keep lettin' me fuck your throat like that it's gonna be over real quick. And I wanna feel that pretty pussy myself."

You sit back up and he pulls you towards him so you're straddling him.

"You gonna fuck me, Joel?"

"Yes," he breathes, "Yes, baby, please-"

You do an awkward wobble and then stand up, shedding your pants and letting your panties drop, stepping out of them, one foot and then the other, and the way he's watching you is addictive. He watches you with beautiful eyes, drinking all of you in, and suddenly the moment has changed into one of those quiet, intimate moments where you both exhale a laugh.

You straddle him again, and lean down to kiss him, and the electric current surges up. He grabs you by the jaw, meeting your desperation. His lips on yours are exactly the balm you need and you can taste the whiskey on his breath.

"Feels fucking good," you tell Joel as you slide up and down his length. He's not penetrating you, not yet, but the lips of your pussy are spread and you're gliding along him, feeling his head at your clit and thrusting back till you're nearly seated on his balls.

He watches you, nearly unblinking, drinking it all in. Then, he lets out a groan, and half-sits up, suddenly focused.

"Shit," he closes his eyes in frustration, "I don't have any condoms. Shit shit shit-"

You push him back down and kiss him again. Then, you hop off the bed and sift around in your jean pockets.

"Ah-ha!," you exclaim, once you've found your treasure. Joel raises and eyebrow and you wink. "Saw they were selling them in the lobby. Figured it might be a good idea."

"Shit," Joel laughs, and presses his lips just to the side of your mouth. "Clever girl," he tells you, and a shiver goes up your spine.

He leans to help, but you shoo him away and he watches, entranced, as you neatly open the condom wrapper and, with a small amount of difficulty, roll it down his cock.

"Feeling okay?" You ask him, "Shit, I shoulda gotten the Magnums. Is your dick okay? It's not being choked to death by an inappropriately sized rubber, is it?"

Joel snorts. "We'll manage," he says, and then he grips you by the hips, lines himself up. He draws his knuckles along your cunt and groans, "Fuck, so goddamn wet for me-" and, the moment you look at him and nod, he holds the head of his cock against your drooling lips and presses into you.

It's a big stretch as he lowers you down onto him, the intrusion almost painful, but before you can even take a breath, it melts into absolute pleasure. You've fucked people with longer cocks before, and you've fucked people with girthier cocks before, but never have you fucked someone with a cock that's both this long and thick and it feels like you're being split in two and it's perfect and you realise, with a sudden flip of your stomach, he isn't even fully seated inside you yet.

Then, you manage to focus on the words Joel is saying-that had really just been background noise for the past ten seconds or so-and suddenly you're tuning back in for "Tha's it," his voice low and hoarse, surprisingly gentle, "Good girl, takin' this cock so well, look at you."

His brow is furrowed and he's looking at you with such dark eyes, nearly black, the pupils are so blown. "Just a little more, that's it, just one more inch, you can do it, christ, look at you, takin' all of me."

His tone is reverent and it sets a fire through you. You can feel more slickness build and drip out of you, and from the way he moans, you're certain he can feel it too despite the condom.

"So fuckin' wet," he groans, "Soakin' my cock- grippin' me so nice-Fuck--"

He leans towards you and cradles your head in his hand, kissing you hard.

When you both pull back, you know your lips must be kiss swollen and red. His are--they're soft and bright, and you want to eat him whole.

"You're gonna be the death of me, woman."

He's thrusting into you lazily, holding you in place, but you need more, you need all of him.

You push forward and move his hand from your waist to your clit. As you manoeuvre him, his nostrils flare, and you'd wonder if he was angry, if not for the way you felt his cock stiffen even further inside of you. You start to move your hips, to rub up against the thumb on your clit, and to feel every fucking inch of him.

Urged on by the way he groans, you start to ride him, properly. Holding each other close, you fuck down onto him and he leans back, awed.

"Enjoying the show?" you ask.

"Damn- right- I- am-," Joel breathes, every word punctuated with a shuddering breath after you drive back down onto his cock, "Jesus- you- look- so- good- like- that."

You like being watched. Being admired. It sent an extra thrill through you, and your hips stutter, just a little, and now you're following a new, faster rhythm.

"Fuck, that's it, baby-" he praises, "Shit, yes- bounce on it."

You lean forward and kiss his throat, and then he makes this noise, half-strangled and beautiful.

"Shit, honey-- honey, honey, hold on-," he holds you still and you're glad he has, because your brain hadn't quite processed his words.

He's looking at you so earnestly.

"Baby, if you keep ridin' me like this I am gonna blow my load in the next twenty seconds and I don't wanna end this quite so soon."

You hum, a moment of consideration. You stare into his eyes, and part of it is calculated seduction, but another part is getting genuinely lost in the way he looks at you. The crinkles round his eyes. The way he seems able to focus on you, in a way that feels as frightening as it is exhilarating.

"How about this," You smile, "You get yours, and then you can eat me out till I get mine. And if you're ready to go again by the time I've come, we can see where we're at then. Hmm?"

You see a bead of sweat trickle down his temple, and take a moment to appreciate how much he's clearly trying to control himself.

After a moments of avoiding your eye, he looks at you again and he looks utterly wrecked. "You- talkin' like that?" He shakes his head and tries to even his breath. "Fuck, I nearly came right there."

"It's okay," you soothe, and you cup his jaw and resume you movements, riding him like you had before. "You can come if you need to-" your fingertips stroke the stubble of his chin, "You're close, huh? It's okay, daddy, you can let go."

Joel lets out a strangled noise and busts immediately.

You savor the way it feels, the pulse of his cock as he spills into you. No, into the condom, you correct yourself, but you can always pretend-

After his balls relax and you can feel him start to get soft, you hold the condom down as you pull yourself off, and you're nearly unseated when there's a sudden squelch noise that sends you both into tumbles of laughter.

It takes a while to calm down, and you find yourselves heaving, tangled in the sheets, and wrapped up in each other. The condom is hanging limply on Joel's now-soft cock and it's oddly cold and gooey as you accidentally roll against it, and that sends you both off again.

"Fuck," Joel snorts, and tugs at the condom, starting to roll it off his length, "I'd almost forgotten the weird texture of a used condom. Fuckin'... Slug-like."

"That-" you declare, "Is visceral. And I hate it. Thanks."

He snorts, and you suddenly have a question.

"Condoms not making too many appearances in your life?"

"Not many, no."

"What, you usually fuck raw?"

"Just haven't been sleepin' with anyone," he shrugs, nonplussed.

"Well, I gotta say, the good people of Austin have been missing out."

Joel shrugs again, and it comes off as casual, but you notice the way his ears tint pink. "Just- not been something I did. But now, I guess, I can. And with way less guilt."

"Why guilt? Are-" you venture, dread pooling in your stomach, "Are you married?"

His eyes flit up to you sharply, and then soften immediately. He lets out a breath and shakes his head. "No. Nothin' like that. I was married, but I've been divorced nearly twenty years now."

The tightness immediately uncoils and you realise how tense you were only a moment ago. I am not a cog in the machine of a collapsing marriage. Thank fuck.

But now your curiosity is piqued. "So... why the guilt?"

"Sorry, I- I really didn't mean to get into it. I'd rather not get into it. It's- complicated."

"Of course," you shrug, and it isn't a problem because this is just a hot fantasy hookup that you'll remember fondly, and it'll be wonderful masturbation fuel for probably the rest of your life, but you don't wanna make the poor guy go into his life's trauma, especially when he's looking at you so fucking earnestly and you are actually really fucking fascinated but no, you would not let this become a problem.

"Thanks," he says, and then steps out of the room. You hear the clang of the bin as he steps on the pedal, then drops the condom, takes a piss and washes his hands.

"You hungry?" He asks, and you realize very suddenly, you're absolutely famished.

"Yes," you jump up and he laughs when you run, bare-assed and shameless, over to the corner of the room filled with brochures and traveller info and finally, you raise it in triumph when you find it, the list of nearby takeaways.

"Okay," you look at the list, "There's one place at the top of the list here that's apparently highly rated, but I actually have plans there soon and I wanna wait till then to eat there. Hope that's okay."

Joel comes over to you and rests his head on your shoulder. "No problem."

"But... alright," you continue. "There's pizza. Or... more pizza. Or, look--there's a Southern-style place, that'll make you feel right at home!" Joel pokes you in the side and you swat at him as he grunts a laugh.

Suddenly, a warning sound starts playing on loop in your brain. It was dreadfully domestic, wasn't it? This was an absolute stranger you'd just met in a hotel bar? But... it also felt... nice? And it felt nice in ways that you'd never found yourself enjoying before. Even with long-term partners. Maybe because this was so low-stakes, you reasoned, such an inevitably temporary situation, so you weren't putting the same kind of pressure on yourself.

As soon as you think that, the eternal curse of overthinking shows itself and you suddenly feel desperately self conscious. Before you can pull away and make some excuse, though, Joel's arm wraps around you and his thumb starts rubbing little circles into a tender bit of skin between your hip and your tummy. The anxiety spiral you'd been teetering on the edge of suddenly vanishes.

"How about-," he nods at the list, "Pizza?"

After Joel calls in your order, the pizza delivery service tells you to expect your food in about thirty minutes. You remember you have a little box of edibles. You ask Joel if he minds if you take one, and he doesn't. You offer him one, and he automatically declines, but then as he starts to explain, he pauses and pivots, goes "Wait, actually. Yeah. Why not?"

A freckled kid who looks no more than sixteen pulls up with a short stack of pizza boxes and a two liter bottle of root beer. He raps awkwardly on the door after exactly thirty five minutes, and it swings open.

The room looks utterly wrecked, clothing strewn along every surface. Joel answers the door wearing a robe, his entire face smelling of sex, and his moustache still shining with the slick of your release.

"Thanks, kid," Joel nods, and hands him a small wad of cash. The kid eyes him and shrugs. "Keep the change," he tells him, and the door swings back shut.

The edibles have hit beautifully. You're both blissed out, comfortably hazy, lost in the sensation of bare limbs on bedsheets and the flavors of the pizza and it's assorted sauces. You lay together on the bed, paper plates strewn between you. In the background, an X-Files rerun plays.

"Ooh!" You sit up as you catch the premise of the episode, "I love this one! See the goo? There's a giant fungal... entity.. that's working on digesting them, and giving them hallucinations as they die."

"You and mushrooms, huh?" Joel laughs, but then looks back at the episode and contemplates the viscous yellow goo. "Jesus christ," he frowns, and sniffs, now contemplating the mushrooms on his pizza slice.

You spot his glare and snort. "I think you're safe."

He takes another bite and shakes his head as if to clear it.

"I'm getting tired," he admits.

"Me too," you agree.

"No pressure, but in case it wasn't clear, you're welcome to stay the night here."

"That's sweet," you tell him, and think it over. "If I took you up on that, would you be offended if I slip out early?"

Joel raises a brow.

"I have a cat," you explain, "And I'm working on moving into a new place, and meeting a friend for breakfast, and then I need to check out after breakfast because I won't be able to get my keys for the new place until the breakfast but I can't take my cat to a diner-"

You take a breath.

"Basically, I've got a bunch of things I need to do in the morning, but if you don't mind me slipping out around, maybe, 5-ish, then I'd love to stay."

He stares at you.

You regret saying as much as you said. You don't need to over-explain yourself to this actual stranger. He doesn't care. There's no reason for him to care. He's probably in it just for the fuck, and it was fun and if you stay then there's a chance the two of you will wake up at some point in the night, still horny and lustful and you might fuck again and you'd be lying if you said that wasn't part of the draw. You realise, though, you'd also be lying if you said you didn't care what he thought of you. All of a sudden, you are overwhelmed with caring what this man thinks of you.

How fucking inconvenient.

"I wouldn't be offended at all," Joel chews, swallows, wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin and speaks again. "What's your cat's name?"

You don't know what you'd expected he'd say, but it wasn't that. You buffer for a moment. "It's- Spatula."

"Spatula?"

"Yep." You feel foolish.

"Huh. Spatula."

A silent moment between you.

"Got any pictures?"

You weren't expecting that, either. "I... do? Do you want to see them?" He nods. You pull out your phone to scroll through.

Joel, suddenly scrambled around for his phone, too. It was late and he hadn't checked it for hours. Had it been on silent? What if Sarah had called and he'd missed it?

His panic eased when he saw he had only two notifications. Both from Sarah, but neither were bad. He hadn't been neglecting any crises. The first text was a selfie of Sarah and an unfamiliar person, which she'd texted to him with the caption New roomie!! The second contained an address to the place they'd have breakfast tomorrow along with Just wanted you to know I've invited a friend to join us tomorrow morning! Is that okay? Realized I should maybe have checked with you? 😬

There was an ache in his chest. He wanted to keep her to himself, get to spend one last day, just the two of them. It was the start of a whole new chapter, but more than anything, he wished he could hold onto the moment for just a second longer.

But Sarah was stressed, he knew this, so he wasn't gonna make it worse and put this burden on her. He could handle it. He had to handle it. He typed back- No problem, baby. Can't wait to meet your friend.

After a moment, he followed up with another text. Gonna turn in now. Good nite!

The less he texted right now, the better. He did not want Sarah to know anything about the night he was having.

His screen lit up a moment later. Night Dad! He takes a deep breath and wills some of the tension away.

He slips his phone aside and you scoot into bed next to him.

"This," you announce, "Is Spatula."

Joel scrolls thru, his brows raising higher with each image.

With a single nod, he opens his mouth and instead of speaking, he collapses into laughter. It comes out a wheeze- "I-- I know this won't make any sense, but your cat looks just like my goddamn brother."

You're laughing now too, both of you almost hysterical, even though you have no frame of reference. You cherish the absurdity.

Then, Joel pulls up a picture on his phone and shows you, and now you're doubling over again because his brother looks exactly like Spatula.

You don't remember falling asleep. You curse your body's internal clock because you wake up right at 5am, and even though you know you should get up and leave, you wish you could have just a little bit longer.

It's such a comfortable way to wake up. One arm is folded under your pillow, and the other is slung over Joel's hip. He's asleep, snoring softly, and strands of his hair are mussed along his forehead. Your hand is holding his tummy, but you realise there's something pressing against the heel of your hand, and then realise, with a delicious jolt, that he's hard and straining against his boxers.

It's so fucking hard to get out of that bed, but with enough barely-effective reminders--you're gonna fuck up your whole day if you're late, gotta make a good impression, Spatula's gonna be so disappointed if you're late with his breakfast--you manage to bully yourself out of the warm and wonderful bed containing blankets and absolutely fantastic dick, and you tiptoe through the room, dress quickly, and, after making a note and leaving it on his bedside stand, you slip out.

Joel wakes up with a jolt, and then rolls over to see that the alarm clock (which he dared not contemplate the number of times he must have snoozed) was telling him it was 9:13.

He was late. Really fucking late. And then the panic made his brain spin faster and that's when he noticed the note on his bedside table.

I had a really good time If you're in town for a little longer, don't be a stranger?

It's followed with your name and phone number, and a rather detailed mushroom sketch across the page. He wasn't sure what kind of mushroom it was, but it was beautiful, and clearly hand-drawn, and for whatever reason you'd decided to tear it out of, presumably, your sketchbook? And you gave it to him, and he's gonna read that note and replay last night for the rest of his fucking life. It felt incredibly precious. He placed it in a book so it wouldn't get creased or folded. Made sure it was all contained and neat, totally flat in between the pages.

Then, he dragged himself out of bed and into the shower.

After scrubbing the smell of sex off of his entire body, he dresses quickly and checks his watch again. 9:28.

He texts Sarah and lets her know he's a few minutes behind. She responds with an eye roll emoji.

Joel settles in his truck and pulls up directions. It's only a few minutes away. He won't be too late.

When Joel steps into the diner, he's charmed by it. It's old school, with a checkerboard floor and bright red vinyl seats. He scans the room till he spots Sarah in a booth in the corner. She's laughing over a hot chocolate, and her friend must be in the seat opposite her.

He catches Sarah's eye and she grins at him, waving him over.

You've been at the diner about fifteen minutes, and you and Sarah are already getting along beautifully.

You'd met on a university message board and had become fast friends, but meeting someone in person was always a little terrifying. On top of that, you'd already committed to spending at least one (academic) year with this person, so you were damn sure gonna make it work.

Sarah waves over her dad. You can't see him yet, the back of the booth too high.

But then he's standing right there.

You already have a hand outstretched, but when he sees you and you see him, your stomach flips and dread runs through you. All the color drains from his face. He looks like a deer in headlights, and you'd be surprised if you didn't look the same.

Sarah looks between you, not quite concerned, but definitely confused. Sarah smiles and tries to diffuse the situation.

"Hi dad!" She grins, "This is my new roommate! Well, the other new roommate--the one in the picture, their name is Ellie, they weren't able to make it this morning. BUT. Breakfast seemed like a great time to hand off keys!"

Joel is still frozen and white-faced. Your brain whirs, and you know you've just fucking catapulted yourself into a disastrous mess, but you do your very best to save face.

Reaching your hand out further so he can't possibly miss it, he gives into some familiar social instinct, takes it and you shake. You think of his hands, how they dragged along your body last night, touched you, felt you, wrecked you.

You introduce yourself. He nods, avoiding eye contact.

"Joel." He grunts. "Miller."

Sarah frowns at him, but turns back to the menu.

This- was unexpected. Problematic. Arguably, really fucked up. All of those things and more. But it'll be fine.

All throughout breakfast, you repeat that to yourself, letting the words bounce around your head. It will be fine, you repeat your mantra, it will be fine, and you try not to feel too hurt at the way Joel's avoiding eye contact as if simply looking at you will cause him unimaginable disgust.

Everything will be fine.

Note: The fic's premise is loosely based on the book Mistakes Were Made which is a fucking excellent sapphic romance novel that utilises this trope. Would strongly recommend the book if you're into smutty queer stories.

#joel miller smut #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel miller x f!reader #ok i gotta be honest i was stoned out of my mind for writing most of this #but mostly sober for editing #thank u for bearing with meeeeeee

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tarysande · 3 months ago

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There are a couple more Garrus-Vakarian-related hills I'm willing to die on.

Maybe this particular bit of fanon has faded over the years, but there used to be a lot of insistence that Garrus is young and somehow inexperienced when he meets Shepard. Canon doesn't really support this. Turians start their mandatory service at 15. Garrus has at least a decade of experience. Even if he's 2-4 of years younger than Shepard (according to Patrick Weekes), he's got at least as much field experience as she does by dint of the difference in turian and human "enlistment" ages.

Garrus is really damn good at his job at C-Sec. You don't give the Case of Investigating the Rogue Spectre to a greenhorn. You give it to your best, most tenacious agent. Pallin may not always approve of Garrus's actions, but that doesn't actually stop him from putting Garrus on the tough case. Also, we don't know much about how C-Sec works but we do know a bit about how the turian hierarchy works, and we know C-Sec was essentially a turian initiative. That means it's a meritocracy where failure reflects on the superior, not the one who failed. So, in roughly a decade (Shepard's 29 in ME1; I always think of Garrus as about 27), Garrus has not only done shipboard military service, but he's also risen to be one of C-Sec's top investigators; Pallin wouldn't risk having Garrus's "failure" reflect poorly on HIM otherwise. I'd say that actually makes Garrus as remarkable in civilian law enforcement terms as Shepard is considered to be within the ranks of the Alliance military.

Of course Garrus was scouted by the Spectre program. And honestly, if his dad hadn't stepped in, I think Garrus would have become a Spectre, no problem. Especially for a turian, he's cut from precisely the cloth the Spectres would be looking for: extremely skilled, extremely capable, and--most importantly--he's a turian not just able but willing to work outside the chains of command that turians are taught from birth to revere and be loyal to above all else. This is the reason Pallin is leery about Spectres: he's a good turian. Good turians follow straight lines; they don't carve out their own paths.

Garrus's dad's not dumb, and he's not cruel, and he, too, rose to the top of the C-Sec hierarchy. He took one look at his kid, I think, and said, "I love my child, but I'd say it's a 50-50 chance he ends up a shooting-first-asking-questions-later Spectre like Saren Arterius, and I don't want to see that happen." Yeah, he uses his parental influence to try and jam square-peg-Garrus into round-hole-C-Sec and Garrus resents him for it, but there's no way he did it just to stop his son from getting his way or because he doesn't like Spectres. I expect Vakarian Sr. had to clean up more post-Spectre-interference messes than we can possibly imagine. But we also know he and Alec Ryder were pals later.

So the importance of what Garrus learns from a Paragon Spectre Shepard is this: You can't just do what you want and claim the ends always justify the means. That's what Saren does. Over and over again. Garrus's code and his idealism and his sense of justice and his ability to work alone should make him a great Spectre, actually, but he needs Paragon Spectre Shepard's actions to show him the lesson he tells her he's learned during ME1: "If the people I'm sworn to protect can't trust me... well, then I don't deserve to be the one protecting them." (And the seed of Archangel was planted.) I think for the first time he realizes that even though he believes his sense of justice to be correct, it doesn't matter for shit if he can't show others why that's so. And that's where the trust comes in. (Also, ow, the extra level of importance this gives their exchange where she tells him she trusts him and he tells her she's about the only friend he has left is... a lot. Cool, cool. I'm totally fine. Nothing to see here.)

When Shepard asks him what happened on Omega, he replies, "My feelings got in the way of my better judgement." Something tells me that this never happens to "good" turians, which just makes the line so much more devastating. And although the lesson some might take away from this is "feelings bad; no feelings ever," the "grey" that Garrus has to learn to deal with is precisely the grey of recognizing feelings, validating them even, but not acting on them until they've been examined. (Which is why my Shepard stands between him and Sidonis; she doesn't give a shit about Sidonis. But Garrus has refused to process his own feelings of failure and self-loathing, so they have to take the therapy session to the Citadel and deal with it there.)

Ahh yes. The mountain range of character analysis.

#mass effect #garrus vakarian #femshep #paragon shepard #thinky thoughts #mass effect meta #long text post #i have no idea if i'm repeating things i wrote about more than a decade ago but oh well lol #october is for talking about mass effect i guess #happy birthday month to me

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j1998v · 9 months ago

Note

WAIT WAIT WAIF OHMYGOD HOLD ON I NDZ I NEED A MOMENT WAIT BKLDTO HOLD ONON HODL UP IM CRYING WAITF;;;;

ough what abt dadspy headcanons? like yk how spy is scout's dad and allat (platonic ofc)

Spy as a Dad Headcanons 🕵️‍♂️

When scout first found out he had an actual identity crisis.

He started avoiding Spy, and was in denial for a long time.

I have this thing that Spy didn’t know that Scout was HIS KID until he actually got to know him, then he realized

Even though Spy acts like an asshole sometimes, he still cares. So he’s going to watch his son from far away. Very far away.

Buying rich people clothes for scout and then just saying “It’s because you have no taste.”

Scouts gonna take a long time to warm up to Spy as a dad, but once he does, he’ll stop being annoying to spy.

Scout thought that his dad was Tom Jones for MONTHS (basically canon)

Spy didn’t want to leave scout and his mom, but he felt like he had to so that he could keep them safe.

Im sorry that it was so short, this is all I can think of but enjoy!!

#OP IM THINKING ABOUT THIS SO HARD #OHMYGOD #IM NOT NORMAL ABOUT SPYDAD THIS HAS ME ROLLING IN TEARS #YOUR JONOUR THATS HIS FATHER. AND THATS HIS SONG. YOUR HONOUR THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCHMUCH #THEY BROKE THEIR OWN RULES FOR EACH OTHER UR HONOUR #SPY LET HIS WALLS DOWN AND CARED FOR HIS SON AND SCOUT STOPPED ANNOYING HIS DAD OHMYGODU #OP ILY #SPYDAD OHMYGKD #SPYDAD #MUFFLED SCREAMINGS OF THE DAMNED #SCOUT'D CALL SPY “DAD”.... im crhing #ohmygid I love themu so. much #or would it be da? idk I dont speak boston #this means scout is french but shhh look at them #im crying so hard scout'd be so clingy and spy despite letting out a long sigh would still agree to whatever scout's asking for omg #theyd play baseball togeyher......... IM GOING TO KILL MYSELF #rbs

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theonottsbxtch · 1 month ago

Text

PREACHER'S DAUGHTER PT4 | MV1

an: so this slight bit more angsty if anything so you've been warned, also i find it funny that for someone who is not christian i know so much about this religion because i was born and raised in the uk and was a scout. that last part meant they shoved christianity down my throat with a gun, newway

wc: 5.7k

warnings: mentions of domestic violence, body image issues, slight steam

part one | part two | part three |

The church was quiet that afternoon, sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows in kaleidoscopic patterns. The scent of old wood and faint incense lingered in the air as Max held their son, Theo, in his arms, cradling him with surprising ease for someone who once joked that he wasn’t "the baby type."

Theo was dressed in a tiny white onesie and matching cap, his round cheeks rosy and his wide blue eyes staring up at Max, completely unbothered by the world around him.

“He’s so calm,” Max murmured, glancing at her as they walked down the aisle together. She was radiant, holding the christening blanket her aunt had gifted them, her hand brushing against his arm as they moved toward the altar.

“He takes after you,” she teased softly, smiling. “You always seem so calm on the outside.”

Max chuckled under his breath, adjusting Theo slightly. “That’s just because I hide it well. Inside, I’m panicking about every little thing.”

Her aunt walked a few steps behind them, her smile warm and proud as she watched the young family. Danny was there too, looking surprisingly put together in a blazer that didn’t quite match his slacks but worked well enough. He held a small silver baptismal cup he’d insisted on buying for Theo.

When they reached the altar, the pastor greeted them with a kind smile, his voice gentle. “It’s a beautiful day for this, isn’t it?”

Max looked over at her, and she nodded, her smile soft but full of emotion. “It really is.”

The ceremony was simple and intimate, just as they’d wanted. The pastor spoke about the importance of love and family, his words resonating deeply with everyone in the room.

When it came time to pour the water over Theo’s head, Max passed the baby to her with careful hands, his fingers brushing hers. Theo squirmed slightly but didn’t cry, his tiny hands clutching at the air as the cool water touched his skin.

“Theodore Max Emilian Verstappen,” the pastor intoned, blessing the baby with a gentle hand on his head. “May you walk in faith and love all the days of your life.”

Her aunt dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, and even Danny seemed unusually quiet, his gaze fixed on the scene in front of him.

When the ceremony ended, Max turned to her with a look of quiet awe, his hand resting on her back as they stepped away from the altar. “He did good,” he said softly, glancing down at their son.

She smiled, brushing her fingers over Theo’s soft cheek. “He really did.”

Afterward, they all gathered near the back of the church, taking turns holding Theo and snapping a few pictures. Danny held the baby awkwardly, his large hands looking almost comical against Theo’s tiny frame.

“I never thought I’d see the day, man,” Danny said, his voice full of affection as he looked at Max. “You’re a dad. And a damn good one, too.”

Max grinned, his arm slipping around her waist. “Thanks, Danny. Couldn’t have done it without her, though.”

Danny handed Theo back to her, and she cradled him against her chest, her heart swelling as Max leaned in to kiss her temple.

Her aunt stepped forward then, wrapping them both in a hug. “You’ve made a beautiful family,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m so proud of you, darling.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away, nodding. “Thank you.”

Max cleared his throat, his voice rough. “We’re just getting started, but… yeah. I think we’re doing okay.”

She turned to him, her smile radiant. “We’re doing more than okay.”

As they walked out of the church together, the sun shining down on them, Max tightened his arm around her and glanced at their son. Theo yawned, his tiny fist curling against her chest.

Max couldn’t really ever believe this was his life.

The apartment was a quiet chaos, the kind that came with a newborn. Bottles sat drying on the counter, a stack of laundry waited to be folded on the couch, and the faint smell of coffee lingered in the air. Max shuffled through the living room, Theo nestled against his chest in one arm, his other hand running through his dishevelled hair. He was running on fumes, a few hours of broken sleep stretched thin across work and baby duties, but he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

A knock at the door broke his train of thought. He frowned, glancing at the clock. It was too early for Danny to swing by, and they weren’t expecting any deliveries.

Still holding Theo, Max made his way to the door, unlocking it with one hand and pulling it open. His expression hardened instantly when he saw who was standing there.

Her mother.

She stood in the hallway, clutching a handbag tightly in front of her, her expression a mix of hesitation and determination. She looked older than Max remembered from the last time he’d seen her—her face lined with worry, her posture stiff.

Without a word, Max reached out and closed the door in her face.

“Nope,” he muttered, locking the door for good measure.

He turned on his heel and walked back into the apartment, Theo still snoozing against his chest. His jaw was tight, but he knew this wasn’t his call to make.

In the bedroom, she was curled up on the bed, her hair loose and her head resting on her folded arms. She looked up as he walked in, her face softening when she saw him with the baby.

“Hey,” she said sleepily. “Everything okay?”

Max adjusted Theo carefully before sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked at her for a moment, unsure how to say it.

“Angel,” he began, his voice low but steady. “Your mother’s at the door.”

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and unexpected.

Her eyes widened, and she sat up slowly, pushing her hair back as she processed what he’d just said. “She’s here?”

Max nodded, his gaze softening as he watched her. “Yeah. She didn’t say anything. Just knocked. But… it’s her.”

Her breath hitched, and she looked down at her hands, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. Two years. Two years since she’d last seen or heard from her mother, and now she was just outside their door.

“Do you want me to tell her to leave?” Max offered gently, his free hand reaching out to rest on her knee.

She shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “No… I’ll talk to her.”

Max studied her face, his concern etched into every line of his expression. “You don’t have to, you know. Not if you’re not ready.”

She looked up at him then, her eyes steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside her. “I am.”

Max nodded, leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

She took a deep breath, gathering her strength, and slid off the bed. As she walked toward the door, Max watched her go, Theo still cradled against his chest.

“You’ve got this, Angel,�� he said softly, pride and love in every word.

She nodded without looking back, her hand already reaching for the doorknob.

She opened the door slowly, revealing her mother still standing there in the hallway. Her mother’s posture was still just as rigid, her grip on her handbag white-knuckled as though she’d spent the entire time trying to decide whether to knock again or walk away.

“Hi, Mum,” she said, her voice steady but guarded.

Her mother’s face softened, the slightest smile forming. “Hi, sweetheart. Can I come in?”

She hesitated for a moment before stepping aside. “Sure.”

Her mother walked in, her eyes immediately scanning the apartment. It wasn’t flashy, but it was warm and homey, filled with small touches of personality: framed photos on the walls, a baby blanket draped over the back of the couch, a bassinet in the corner.

Max was standing in the living room, Theo tucked securely in his arms. His expression was unreadable, but the protective way he held their son spoke volumes.

“Coffee?” she asked, gesturing toward the kitchen.

Her mother nodded. “Yes, please.”

She moved to start the coffee pot, keeping her hands busy while her mother sat stiffly on the couch. Max didn’t move, his eyes fixed on her mother like a hawk watching its prey.

“So,” her mother began, her voice tinged with the usual air of judgement, “I heard through the grapevine at church that you had a baby. Was anyone going to tell me, or was I just supposed to find out from strangers?”

She set the mugs down on the counter with a clink, her jaw tightening. Before she could respond, Max spoke up from where he stood.

“We’ve been a little busy raising him, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Her mother’s eyes flicked to Max for the first time, narrowing slightly as if sizing him up. “You must be Max.”

“That’s me,” he replied dryly, bouncing Theo lightly in his arms.

Her mother ignored his tone and turned back to her daughter. “I’d like to meet him properly,” she said, her voice softening as she looked at the baby. “Can I hold him?”

Before she could answer, Max cut in, his voice sharp. “It is not holding my son.”

She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at the way Max referred to her mother as it. The corners of her mouth twitched, but she managed to keep her composure, though her mother didn’t miss the faint smirk.

Her mother’s face fell into an exaggerated look of hurt, tears immediately welling up in her eyes. “I’m your mother. Don’t I deserve to hold my grandchild?”

Max didn’t flinch. He simply stared at her, his hand resting on his hip, his expression unmoved. “You want me to feel bad? You watched her get beat for years and didn’t do a damn thing to stop it. So no, you’re not stepping a foot near our baby.”

Her mother’s crocodile tears dried up almost instantly at his words, her expression shifting into something more calculating. She opened her mouth to argue, but one glance at Max and she seemed to think better of it.

Her daughter finally stepped forward, coffee mugs in hand, and set them on the table. She sat down across from her mother, her voice calm but firm. “Mum, I think you should leave.”

Her mother blinked, startled. “But—”

“No,” she interrupted gently but decisively. “This is my family now. If you want to be part of it, you’ll have to accept that things are different. That I’m different. And if you can’t, then there’s nothing else to say.”

Cutting her off before she’d even finished her sentence, her mother cut in, giving her daughter a pointed look and said, “I heard you even managed to get him to step foot in a church.”

Before she could respond, Max’s head snapped up, his brows lifting in mock offence. “He is right here,” he said, his tone dry but laced with amusement.

She laughed softly, shaking her head as she walked over to take Theo from Max’s arms, but the corners of his mouth twitched in that way they always did when he was holding back a grin.

Her mother raised an eyebrow, her judgmental gaze shifting between the two of them. “You know,” she began, folding her arms across her chest, “you can come home now. There’s no need for all of this.” She gestured vaguely around the apartment, her tone dismissive, as though their entire life together was an inconvenience to be corrected.

Her daughter stilled for a moment, cradling Theo close as the weight of those words settled over her. Then, without hesitation, she raised her chin and said firmly, “I am home.”

Max straightened at that, his gaze locking on hers, pride radiating from him like a steady warmth. “Damn right you are,” he murmured, his voice quiet but resolute, though he didn’t look at her mother when he said it.

Her mother’s face twisted slightly, her discomfort evident. “You’re sure this is the life you want?”

Her daughter smiled down at Theo, then glanced up at Max, who was watching her with that same unwavering confidence he always had.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” she said simply.

Max stepped closer, standing behind her protectively, Theo still secure in her arms. Her mother’s gaze flicked between the two of them before she finally stood, her movements slow and deliberate.

“I’ll think about what you said,” her mother murmured, her tone almost begrudging.

“You do that,” Max said flatly, watching as she walked toward the door.

She closed the door behind her mother with a sense of finality, leaning against it for a moment before turning to Max.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“You don’t have to thank me, Angel. Nobody messes with my family.”

She smiled, holding Theo close as she looked up at him. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” he replied, his voice full of warmth. “Now let’s forget about her and focus on what really matters.”

She nodded, already feeling lighter as she looked down at their son, safe in her arms.

That night Max stirred in the middle of the night, instinctively reaching out to the other side of the bed. His hand met only cool sheets, and his heart skipped a beat. He blinked into the darkness, his eyes adjusting as he realised she wasn’t there.

A quiet noise drew his attention. He sat up, his ears straining, and caught the faint sound of sniffling. Throwing the blankets aside, he stood and padded toward the source of the sound.

The sight stopped him in his tracks.

She was sitting on the floor, knees drawn to her chest, her face streaked with silent tears as she stared at Theo sleeping peacefully in his crib. The soft light from the nightlight cast a faint glow over her, highlighting the anguish in her expression.

“Angel?” he whispered, his voice low and tender as he crouched down beside her. “What’s wrong?”

She didn’t look at him right away, her gaze still fixed on Theo’s tiny chest rising and falling with every steady breath. When she finally turned to Max, her eyes shimmered with fresh tears, her voice breaking as she spoke.

“How could anyone hurt something so innocent?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “How could anyone look at a baby and see anything but… pure love?”

Max’s heart cracked at the pain in her voice, and he reached out to cup her face, his thumb gently brushing away a stray tear. “Angel…”

She shook her head, her words tumbling out in a raw torrent. “I think about what he did to me, Max. The yelling, the hitting… And I think about Theo. About how small he is, how he trusts us completely. How could anyone ever look at their own child and think they’re evil?” Her breath hitched as she wiped at her face with trembling hands. “What did I ever do to deserve that? What did I ever do to make him hate me so much?”

Max sat down beside her, his back resting against the wall, and pulled her into his lap. She melted into him, her face buried against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her.

“You didn’t do anything,” he said, his voice steady and low, a quiet anchor in the storm of her emotions. “You hear me? Not a damn thing. That’s on him, not you. Never you.”

Her tears soaked through his shirt as he held her tighter, his hand stroking up and down her back in soothing motions.

“Look at me,” he murmured after a while, tilting her chin up gently. His eyes were fierce, steady as they met hers. “You’re nothing like him. You’re the best mum Theo could ever have. You’re kind, patient, loving—you give him everything you never got. And I swear, Angel, no one will ever lay a hand on him. Not while I’m breathing.”

Her lip quivered, but she nodded, clutching at him like he was the only thing keeping her afloat. “I just… I don’t want him to grow up like I did,” she whispered.

“He won’t,” Max promised, his voice firm. “Because you’re breaking the cycle. You already have. Look at what you’ve built, Angel. This is your family. Your home. Theo is safe because of you.”

As Max held her, her breathing evened out, but her grip on his shirt stayed tight. She leaned her forehead against his chest, her voice barely a whisper.

“I’m scared, Max.”

He tilted his head down to look at her, his hand still stroking her back. “Of what, Angel?”

She hesitated, her eyes flickering back to Theo’s crib. “Raising him. I’m scared of forcing my religion on him, of turning into my dad, of…” She took a shaky breath. “What if I make him feel like I did? Scared of failing, scared of not being good enough? I don’t know how to do this without screwing him up.”

Max shifted so he could see her face fully, his thumb brushing gently over her cheek. His voice was steady but firm, filled with the quiet conviction she’d come to rely on.

“Your dad used religion as an excuse, Angel,” he said carefully. “To control you. To hurt you. That’s on him, not you. Not the religion. You’ve never been like him, and you never will be.”

Her eyes filled with tears again, but she blinked them back, her lips trembling. “What if I don’t know how to navigate this? What if I don’t teach him right? What if I push too hard or not enough? And… what if he doesn’t want to be Christian?”

Max exhaled softly and leaned his forehead against hers, his hand cupping the back of her neck.

“Then he doesn’t have to be,” he said gently. “But that’s not something you have to decide for him. All you can do is give him a safe place to figure out what he believes, what feels right to him. You’ve already broken away from the way you were raised. You’re letting him grow up in love, not fear. That’s the difference, Angel.”

She closed her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks again, but this time there was a hint of relief in the way her shoulders relaxed.

“But what if I mess up?” she whispered.

He smiled faintly, his lips brushing against her forehead. “Then we figure it out together. You don’t have to have all the answers. That’s why I’m here, remember?”

Her lips curved in the tiniest smile, and she let out a shaky laugh. “What did I do to deserve you?”

Max grinned, pulling her a little closer. “You loved me when no one else did, Angel. That’s all I’ll ever need.”

She rested her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Theo stirred softly in his crib, letting out a tiny coo, and they both looked over at him.

“We’ll figure it out, Max,” she murmured. “We’ll make sure he’s safe and loved. That’s all that matters.”

Max nodded, his voice low but resolute. “We will. I promise.”

That morning the light filtered softly through the curtains, and the quiet sounds of Theo stirring in his crib filled the room. She stood in front of the mirror, brushing her hair and tying it back with practised precision. Max leaned against the doorframe, watching her quietly.

After a moment, he spoke. “Why don’t we come with you today?”

She froze mid-motion, staring at his reflection in the mirror. “To church?”

He nodded, stepping further into the room. “Yeah. After last night, maybe it’d be good for you—for all of us.”

She turned to face him, uncertainty etched across her face. “Max, you don’t have to do that. You’ve never…” She trailed off, struggling to find the words.

“I know,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “But you’re my family now. If you need this, maybe I do too. Besides, it wouldn’t kill me to sit through one Sunday service.”

Her lips parted as if to argue, but then she closed them, her expression softening. “Are you sure? I mean, you’d have to bring Theo too, and he can be fussy, and…”

Max smirked. “Angel, I can change an engine in my sleep, I’m sure I can deal with a baby in a Church. And, hey,” he added with a teasing grin, “I figure the building won’t burn down if I step inside.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes. “Fine, but I don’t think you have anything to wear.”

He tilted his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oh, don’t I?”

Before she could respond, he walked to their shared wardrobe and pushed aside her dresses, rummaging toward the back. With a flourish, he pulled out a neatly pressed button-up shirt and a pair of dark slacks.

Her jaw dropped. “Where did those come from?”

He grinned. “Had ‘em stashed back here just in case. Didn’t think I’d ever need ‘em, but, y’know, marriage changes a man.”

She stepped forward, inspecting the outfit with a laugh. “Max Emilian Verstappen, you’ve been holding out on me.”

“What can I say? I like keeping you on your toes.” He leaned in, brushing a kiss to her temple. “Now, hurry up and get ready. Can’t have you showing me up too much.”

They got ready together, her fixing the buttons on his shirt while he fastened a tiny bow tie onto Theo. The baby squirmed, babbling happily as his parents fussed over him.

Max stood in front of the mirror, fidgeting with his cuffs. “How do I look?” he asked, spinning around dramatically.

She looked him over, smiling warmly. “Like the handsomest man in church.”

He smirked, pulling her in for a quick kiss. “And you, Angel, look like the most beautiful woman on the planet.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she swatted at him playfully. “Alright, alright. Let’s get going before you make me blush any more.”

With Theo in Max’s arms and her holding her Bible, the three of them headed out the door as a family, ready to head to Church together.

The small church was already buzzing with quiet conversation and the shuffle of feet as the congregation settled into their pews. The moment they walked through the doors, the heads began to turn. Not just because of Theo babbling softly in Max’s arms, but because of Max himself.

He was impossible to ignore—towering in his pressed shirt and slacks, his sleeves rolled up just enough to show his forearms, and his messy hair somehow still looking effortlessly charming. He scanned the room, slightly uncomfortable but standing tall for her sake.

She didn’t miss how some of the wives in the congregation shot lingering glances in his direction, their eyes flicking up and down appreciatively. It took everything in her not to smirk.

They slid into a pew near the back, Max settling Theo on his lap as she tucked herself against his side. The service began with a hymn, her voice blending beautifully with the others. Max didn’t sing, but he listened, his gaze drifting to her every few moments.

It wasn’t long before she caught sight of them—her parents sitting a few rows ahead, her mother’s hat tilted just so, and her father’s rigid posture unmistakable. The knot in her stomach tightened briefly, but then Max’s hand found hers, squeezing it reassuringly.

She glanced up at him, his steady presence a reminder of how far she’d come. Her lips curved into a smile, and she gave his hand a grateful squeeze back. Her family might have been there, but for the first time, they felt like a distant thought.

As the sermon began, Max kept Theo entertained, bouncing him gently and making silly faces. She noticed the subtle glances from the wives again, and this time she couldn’t help herself. Leaning over, she pressed a soft kiss to Max’s cheek, lingering just long enough to make sure it was noticed.

Max turned to her, eyebrows raised in amusement. “What was that for?” he murmured quietly.

She gave him a sly smile. “Just wanted to remind everyone who you belong to.”

He huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Angel, you’re trouble.”

It was Max’s idea to head to a diner after Church to “celebrate” his first ever Sunday service, as though he were a child who needed rewarding.

The small diner was bustling with life, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling griddles filling the air. Max had chosen their usual booth by the window, settling Theo into a high chair next to them. The baby busied himself with a teething toy while they waited for their food.

The plates arrived, steaming and tempting. Max had gone for his usual burger and fries, while she’d chosen a hearty plate of pancakes and eggs. For a while, everything seemed perfect. She smiled at Theo’s delighted coos and laughed softly at Max’s commentary about the service, how much better it was compared to the greasy spoon near the shop.

But as the meal went on, her smile started to fade. She couldn’t help the creeping thoughts that had been nagging her since church. The wives—polished, graceful, and put-together—flitted across her mind. Their elegant hairstyles, perfectly pressed dresses, and glossy makeup stood in stark contrast to her simple ponytail, minimal makeup, and the faint exhaustion she knew lingered in her eyes from late nights with Theo.

Her appetite waned as the thoughts deepened. She picked at her pancakes, moving pieces around the plate but not actually eating.

Max noticed almost immediately. He paused mid-bite, glancing at her untouched food, then at the faraway look in her eyes. “Angel,” he said softly, his tone laced with concern. “What’s going on?”

She blinked, startled out of her thoughts. “Huh?”

“You’ve barely touched your food.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his full attention on her. “You okay?”

Her instinct was to brush it off. She forced a small smile, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s nothing, really. I’m fine.”

Max’s brow furrowed, not buying it. “You sure? You’ve been quiet since we got here.”

She bit her lip, fighting the urge to spill everything. She didn’t want to seem silly, especially over something so trivial. Instead, she nodded. “Yeah, just got lost in my own head for a minute. It’s no biggie.”

Max didn’t push further, but the flicker of doubt in his eyes told her he wasn’t convinced. Still, he let it go, giving her a small, encouraging smile. “Alright. But if something’s bothering you, you tell me, yeah?”

She nodded again, this time reaching across the table to give his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I will. Promise.”

He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze in return before leaning back in his seat, focusing on Theo, who was now enthusiastically banging his teething toy against the high chair tray.

She watched them interact, the tender way Max wiped a bit of drool from Theo’s chin and adjusted his bib. Her heart swelled with love, yet the self-doubt lingered, shadowing the edges of her thoughts. She couldn’t help but wonder how to reconcile these feelings with the life they’d built—a life she adored but sometimes felt she didn’t quite measure up to.

By nightfall, the apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of the baby monitor. Max had just finished putting Theo to bed, lingering by the crib for a moment to run his fingers gently over his son’s soft hair. A deep contentment filled him as he padded back toward their bedroom.

The door to the shared bathroom was slightly ajar, light spilling softly into the dim room. He was about to call out to her when he paused, his steps faltering as his eyes caught her reflection in the mirror.

She stood in front of the mirror in just her bra and underwear, her fingers tracing the faint silver lines that stretched across her lower abdomen. The stretch marks from her pregnancy. Her other hand moved to her side, pinching softly at the curve of her hip, then sliding to her stomach. He watched as she sucked in her breath, holding it, as though trying to envision a different version of herself.

A wave of heartbreak and frustration welled up inside him. He didn’t understand how she couldn’t see what he saw—how every curve, every mark, was a testament to the life they’d created together.

He stepped into the bathroom, his bare feet silent against the tile, his shirtless form reflected in the mirror behind her. “Angel,” he said softly, his voice careful but carrying enough weight to pull her out of her thoughts.

She startled, her hand dropping from her stomach as she turned toward him, her cheeks flushing. “Max! I didn’t hear you come in.”

He crossed the distance between them in a few steps, his hands coming up to rest on her shoulders as his eyes searched hers. “What’s going on?” he asked gently. “I noticed you didn’t eat much earlier, and now I walk in on you doing… that.” He tilted his head toward the mirror. “Talk to me.”

Her lips parted, ready with a dismissal, but his gaze held hers, steady and unwavering. She sighed, lowering her head for a moment before looking back up at him. “I was just thinking about how the women at church looked at you today.” Her voice was quiet, tinged with vulnerability.

His brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his features. “What about it?”

“They’re all so put together, Max,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “Their hair, their clothes, the way they carry themselves... and then there’s me.” She gestured vaguely toward herself. “I don’t look like them. I don’t feel like them. And I started… I don’t know, comparing myself. Thinking about how I’ve changed since Theo, how I…” She trailed off, biting her lip.

Max’s jaw tightened as she spoke, not out of frustration with her but at the sheer absurdity of her words. He reached out, cupping her face with both hands, his thumbs brushing lightly over her cheeks. “Angel, stop,” he said firmly, but his tone was tender. “You’re beautiful. You’re everything. They can look all they want because at the end of the day, I’m yours. Only yours.”

Her eyes glistened, but she shook her head slightly. “You say that, but I don’t feel it sometimes. I see these stretch marks, this extra weight—”

“And I see the woman who carried my son,” he interrupted, his voice thick with emotion. He pulled her closer, pressing his forehead to hers. “I see the woman who turned my life around, who made me believe in love, in family, in myself. Those marks? They’re proof of how strong you are, how much you’ve given me.”

She let out a shaky breath, her hands coming up to rest against his chest. “You really mean that?”

He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, his gaze burning with sincerity. “With everything I’ve got.”

Slowly, he leaned down, brushing his lips against hers, tender at first, but as her hands slid up to his shoulders, the kiss deepened. His hands dropped to her waist, pulling her closer, his fingers splaying against the softness of her skin.

“Max…” she murmured against his lips, her voice a mixture of hesitation and need.

“Let me show you,” he whispered, his voice low and filled with promise, lifting her up onto the counter.

Max kissed her once more, this time deepening the kiss, his hands cradling her face as though she were something precious and fragile. The heat between them built rapidly, their breaths mingling in soft gasps. His fingers trailed down her jawline, along her neck, and over her shoulders, pausing to trace the delicate strap of her bra.

Her hands gripped his shoulders tightly, pulling him closer. He took a step forward, wedging himself firmly between her knees as her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. His lips moved to her jaw, then down to the sensitive spot just below her ear, drawing a soft moan from her lips.

“Max…” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion and desire.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers, both of them breathing heavily. His hands slid down her sides, over the curve of her waist and hips, before coming to rest on her thighs. Slowly, he lifted her off the counter, holding her steady as her feet touched the floor.

“Look,” he murmured, his voice rough but tender as he turned her toward the mirror. She hesitated, but his hands on her waist grounded her, keeping her in place. “I want you to see what I see.”

Her eyes darted to her reflection, taking in the way her flushed skin glowed under the bathroom light, the way her lips were swollen from his kisses, and the unmistakable desire in his expression as he stood behind her, his chest pressed against her back.

He reached for one of her hands, guiding it gently behind her to rest against the unmistakable hardness beneath his boxers. “Feel that?” he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear. “No one else could do that to me, angel. No one. Only you.”

Her breath hitched as her fingers instinctively flexed, earning a low groan from him that sent shivers down her spine. His free hand slid to her stomach, tracing lazy circles just above the waistband of her underwear.

“Every time I look at you,” he continued, his voice a husky murmur, “I lose my mind. It doesn’t matter what you’re wearing or if your hair’s a mess. You—just you—are everything.”

Her reflection showed the way her eyes fluttered closed as his hand dipped lower, slipping beneath the thin band of her underwear. His touch was slow, deliberate, teasing, as though he had all the time in the world to show her exactly how he felt.

Her knees threatened to buckle, but he held her steady, his grip firm yet tender. “Max,” she whimpered, her voice barely above a whisper.

He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, his lips lingering there. “Let me show you,” he murmured again, and this time, she gave herself over completely, trusting him to erase every doubt and replace it with nothing but love.

there is a part five but i cba to tag it lol, you'll find it as preacher's daughter tag <3

taglist: @sinofwriting @le-le-lea @vanicogh @iamred-iamyellow @rayaskoalaland @spookyanamurdock @iimplicitt @hellowgoodbye @maximuminfluencerstarlight @lottalove4evelyn @piceous21 @ladscarlett @leclerc13 @linnygirl09 @labelledejourr @cmleitora @fortunapre @felicityforyou

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thehistoriangirl · 6 months ago

Note

Hi!

Could you write something for Viktor in this Father's Day please??

Thank you so much, have a great day 🖤

Hi anon! For sure :3 I hope you like it

Little Genius

Viktor x Fem!Reader---1.4K----SFW

Tags: Established Relationship (they're married) | Pregnancy | Fluff | Viktor would be such a great dad yall can't change my mind | Happy Father's day to all who celebrate :3 | This is not proofread at all bc Father's Day is over in less than an hour i'm sorryyyy ;---; |

Viktor felt your head nudging against his side, making him lower the book he was reading since yesterday—since you had finished it without waiting for him to read it out loud. A small betrayal Viktor washed away with your extra long session of kisses after dinner.

He reached to turn off the lamp, your hand brushing his before he could pull the tiny rope. Golden eyes took in your alert face, body wiggling closer to him so Viktor could rest his right leg over your hip.

His hum reverberated in your whole body due to the closeness of your cheek and his chest, heart beating content as you melted against the soft touches, the nonsensical patterns he drew against the thin, worn-out fabric of your pajamas.

“Not tired yet?” he asked, looking at the clock hung on the wall almost reaching midnight.

“I want to show you something,” you said, fiddling with the loose threads of his favorite blanket, the one he packed from his house in Zaun and kept in Piltover, even now.

He mourned the sudden loss of your warmth once you incorporated in your elbows, reaching for the nightstand on your side of the bed. Though curiosity made his golden eyes twinkle as your fingers scouted the insides of the last drawer.

“What is it?” Viktor peeked over your shoulder, seeing your hand gently cradling a small, white box tied close with a golden ribbon. “Are you going to propose, my love? Because I’m sorry to tell you this, but I beat you to it around two years ago,” he chuckled, rubbing with his thumb over the golden band decorating a finger in your left hand. Soft, slightly dry lips kissing the reverse of your palm once you glared playfully at him.

“You’re not funny,” you said, thought your curved lips testified completely the opposite.

“I hate to argue with the love of my life, but I am. Otherwise I wouldn’t have win you over.”

“Well, what if I say that you win me over with your terrible jokes?”

Viktor feigned a deep betrayal just like they were represented in the Opera House; hand clutching his shirt over his heart, closing his eyes while his face twisted in a grimace of hurt. “Your words break my heart.” His hands enveloped your waist, pulling you against his chest. “You better have a plan to wound up my poor heart. Your devote lover is very sensible.”

You beamed at him, eyes crinkled in crescents. “I do have one.” Wriggling against his tangled hug, you sat with your legs crossed, settled right in front of Viktor, putting the box on his chest. “Open it.”

The mysterious object was covered with a layer of paper, and for a few moments all that it could be heard inside your shared room was the wrinkled paper being pushed away to reveal the gift.

“Huh?” Viktor frowned, his fingers brushing the softest fabric as he raised the clothing out the box to see it against the light of the bright, golden lamp.

A vivid, burnt yellow bib made of crochet in a pattern oddly familiar for his own baby clothes kept inside a bag under his mother’s bed back in Zaun. The lettering read: Papa’s Little Genius.

He gazed at you, founding your expression of pressed lips about to burst into giggles. “My love?”

“Do you know what day is today?” you said, brushing the empty box away to straddle his hips.

“Sunday?” He could barely articulate any words with your comfortable weight pressed against him.

You lowered over his chest, nuzzling your nose in the crook of his neck and nibbling on his ear just for the fun to see his pale skin flush deep crimson every time. “It’s Father’s Day,” your voice sent shivers down his spine, goosebumps traveling all over his body as his body torn between your allure making pool molten desire down his stomach, and his brain scrambling around by your shushed words.

“Father’s…” he said, holding your shoulders as he looked down toward you and over the bib resting on the pillow next to him. His golden eyes opened, a gasp hitching his already quickening breath. “Are you… you… I… we…”

You burst out laughing, your vision became blurry with the halo of tears pooling in your eyes. “Yes...,” you whispered, as if it were such a delicate thing, a dream, almost, that if talking too loud about it would make it disappear. “You’re going to be a Papa very soon.”

His teary eyes matched yours as he hugged him flush against him, taking in the smell of your hair, how perfectly he feels blessed at just basking in your presence. And now, not only had you given him your whole body and soul and heart. No, you were about to give him a legacy—a future carved in his blood and flesh.

A child.

His child.

His rough fingerpads caressed your cheeks, wishing to take in every little detail about this moment so he could treasure it for eternity.

“I thought I was the luckiest person in the whole world when you accepted to be my spouse, but now?” He laughed, wiping your tears away. “Now words can’t describe how I feel knowing that you’re carrying our baby.”

Viktor chuckled, his smile that one of a child’s that had just discovered the wonders of life for the first time. His hand cradling your belly.

“Hi, little one,” he muttered, almost afraid to cause a bad impression to his unborn baby. Fingers gently caressing the soft skin under your shirt. “I’m your Papa. Hi,” Viktor repeated, finding himself in a loss of words. “I… I promise I’m going to read a lot of books about parenting, and that I’m going to come up with pretty toys for you, and I promise that I will make daily time to play with you… and sing to you… and tucking you to bed,” his voice broke, a knot straining his throat. “I don’t know anything about being a father, but I promise you I will be the best for you, little one.”

With a groan, he sat on the bed, lowering his head to kiss your belly, hands interlocked in the small of your back. “Only the best for you and your stunning mother. I hope you look just like her,” he said with a chuckle. “Though I will struggle to ground if that occurs… hmm, just be easy on me, alright?”

He looked up at you, eyes full of wonder and pure, unfiltered adoration.

“I just know about them, but I already love them so,” Viktor confessed, caressing your hair, his hands pulling down your chin so his lips could encounter yours. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” He mumbled between kisses of all kind—as soft as the brush of a feather, bold ones with his teeth biting your bottom lip, his tongue exploring your mouth in a slow, sensual dance. “I love you. I love you both,” he corrected, patting your belly.

“Do you like the bib?” you hummed, and he laughed. “Your mother scold me a lot because I kept getting lost while knitting the pattern.

“I knew I recognized that style.” He scanned the bib, arching a playful eyebrow toward you. “Little Genius, eh? Pretty high standards, don’t you think?”

You roll your eyes, swatting his chest lightly. “You say that as if you won’t let them see all your blueprints and chalkboards full of equations the moment they’re born.”

Viktor’s heart fluttered at the thought. He would have to babyproof his studio—and for sure his child wouldn’t step inside the lab without a full-body protective uniform, but the thought of sharing with someone else besides you about his vision of the world and the place he had in it made him feel like he was inside paradise.

A personal goal to make this world much happier, and safer, and fairer.

His baby’s world.

“I love you,” he said, kissing your whole face with delicate kisses that poured out everything words could never express. His devotion. His love. Everything. “I will never be able to pay you back for this…this miracle.”

“I don’t want you to pay me back,” you said, hands resting over his quickly-beating heart. “I love you, too. And your love for both of us is more than enough.”

He smiled widely, showing you that grin you adored so much, that made you melt and wish you could, too, give him the whole world.

“How lucky I am,” he hummed, settling you against his chest. “To have my whole universe safely resting in my arms.”

#viktor x reader #arcane viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor arcane #arcane viktor #arcane viktor x you #viktor arcane x you #viktor fanfic #viktor x you

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ottosbigtop · 2 days ago

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king what do you think of comic #7 :D

I JUST finished it like 30 minutes ago so i definitely need to reread it a couple hundred times like i did iwth the other ones but. Highlight moments

PAULING NAME REVEAL. That was awesome

pauling and engineer are FRIENDS they are FRIENDS and he wants to make sure she does the right thing but hes not going to stop her from doing what she wants

Pauling and spy are also friends. I like htat :)

the spy face reveal made me like leave my seat and pace around my room. He looks exactly how everyone expected him to look but the fact that they did that at all was so unexpected.

ZHANNA AND SOLDIER HAVE KIDS !!!!!! LOVE WINS!!!!!!!!

i love scout being a single dad i think thats beautiful. I wish his mom had shown up in the final panel.

on the whole i think it was just a very solid conclusion . It did exactly what it was supposed to and it tied things up, which i did not expect at all. i like that the answer to what the Administrator was doing was.. not all that much, really. At the end of the day her goals were just as aimless as any of the Manns. It definitely feels more like an epilogue than a full issue, and with that theres kind of some lingering disappointment that there wasn’t more to the comic after 7 years of waiting, but ignoring the wait time, i think it did what it set out to do well. In all its clunky and unserious tf2 glory.

If there’s one critique i could give, i would say i really wish we had more of the mercs interacting with each other. We didnt get to see them meet up with Engie properly again which felt kind of underwhelming and for the most part they just kind of did a lot of standing around, behind or next to Pauling. like, it was a good ending, but definitely more for the Administrator and Pauling and the Mann characters stories, not reaaally great for more content of the mercs. But they’ve all been a sideline to Pauling as shes been the mc through most of this really. Its not necessarily new to want more of them dicking around, but i still miss it.

at the end of the day. 10/10. God this style is gorgeous. Im SO happy they moved away from the style of the 6th edition to get closer to the style that was more like what makani did in the other previous issues. And im glad we dont have to stare at a grey box on the comics page anymore yearning for issue 7.

#Team fortress 2 #team fortress 2 comic #tf2 comic spoilers #tf2 comic 7 spoilers #tf2 spoilers #asks :0]

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carlos-in-glasses · 4 months ago

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Rhythms

120k, 17 chapters all written, E, updates on Sundays on Ao3.

TK swoons when he discovers a sentimental scrapbook full of notes he and Carlos have left for each other – but he also unearths a book of poems that closeted teen-Carlos wrote about his struggles, including a few dedicated to his high school crush. An adorably mortified Carlos recalls the stir he caused when he was published anonymously in the high school paper, and everything he went through to write his wedding vows for TK years later. With TK as a hype-man, maybe Carlos can embrace his creative side again.

Read on Ao3

Chapter 1 - Love Heart: The day after TK and Carlos’ first wedding anniversary, TK is sent home from work sick. Back at the loft unexpectedly, he makes a surprising discovery about Carlos.

Chapter 2 - Club Can't Handle Me: In 2011, sixteen-year-old Carlos is both in the closet and in his high school’s wrestling team – and it’s all a bit too much. Perhaps against his better judgment, he turns to poetry and makes a decision that will change his life.

Chapter 3 - Crossroads: Daydreaming about his wedding vows mid-drive, Carlos gets pulled over for a traffic violation – and Gabriel isn’t happy. Reunited with TK, Carlos might be lost for words, but he finds another way to express his love and desire.

Chapter 4 - The Wrestler: Carlos’ poems are published – and he quickly learns there’s no putting the genie back into the bottle.

Chapter 5 - A Gay Fantasia: In the aftermath of being abducted by a serial killer, Carlos reflects on recent events and resumes work on his wedding vows.

Chapter 6 - La Tormenta: Carlos is devastated when Scott gets a girlfriend, and he finds himself in another snowballing situation.

Chapter 7 - Soulmates: When TK has a Huntington’s disease scare, Carlos finds he knows exactly what to say. But will it help him with his writer’s block when it comes to his wedding vows?

Chapter 8 - Man of Mystery: It’s the day of the Lake View High School Talent Show – and will the real Shadow Poet please stand up?

Chapter 9 - Crush: In 2011, it’s make or break for sixteen year old Carlos at the talent show. In 2024, TK becomes the hype man Carlos had needed over a decade ago.

Chapter 10 - From Behind: A couple of weeks before the wedding, Carlos is still working on his vows when a deeper rift develops between him and his dad. In 2012, seventeen year-old Carlos is spiraling after coming out to his parents.

Chapter 11 - The Other Wrestler: TK decides to lift Carlos’ spirits by learning how to wrestle.

Chapter 12 - Carlos Reyes Will Be Okay: At Gabriel’s funeral, Carlos regrets saying no to reading a poem in tribute – but during the wake, he finds himself under a whole new pressure. Later that night, he realizes the vows he’s worked so hard on for TK cannot be spoken yet.

Chapter 13 - The Closet: Despite some good news, Carlos ends up in the doghouse with his mom and with TK.

Chapter 14 - Once in a Blue Moon: Reeling from his confrontation with Andrea, Carlos seeks advice and admits a secret.

Chapter 15 - Raining on Prom Night: In May 2012, chaos erupts at Carlos’ senior prom.

“I was just remembering–” Carlos says, “The first time you stayed for a while after one of our hookups. It was, like, the third time we hooked up, I think. I asked if you wanted tea and cookies and you looked at me like I’d said the weirdest thing ever.”

TK’s exhausted, puffy face breaks into a dazzling grin. “You were being such a Boy Scout.”

“But then you said yes and you ate half the cookie jar.”

“You called me the Cookie Monster.”

“That was the first time I really made you laugh.”

“Tea came out my nose.”

“It was beautiful,” Carlos says, pausing then to qualify: “Your laugh.”

TK gazes up at him, his clear green eyes large and shining. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

“The first time you made me laugh was when we were dancing at the honky-tonk.”

“Hey!” TK swats his arm. “I was trying my best!”

“You were so goofy,” Carlos chides. “I just loved it. I loved you.”

Read on Ao3

#Tarlos #Tarlos fic #Tarlos fanfic #911 lone star #gay fanfiction #Rhythms #poet fic #cig fic #my fic #Thank you so much for reading! I'm so excited about this fic!

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harunayuuka2060 · 8 months ago

Text

Vil: Did you manage to resolve the issue?

MC: Yes. It was a bit difficult at first, but the client listened in the end.

Vil: …

Vil: You shouldn't have disclosed that you used to work as a concierge.

Vil: Now everyone is bothering you.

MC: *smiles* That's better than doing nothing.

MC: I'm not here for relaxation anyway.

Vil: …

Vil: Anyway, I received news from Dad. A director, who is a friend of his, needs a stand in.

Vil: And he wants to hire you for this.

MC: Huh?

Vil: What do you think?

MC: …

MC: Is physical appearance a requirement?

Vil: He didn't specify. Although he might need you for doing action stunts.

MC: …

MC: Alright.

Vil: Hm. Great. We'll be meeting him this afternoon to discuss it.

MC: Okay.

The casting director: *after seeing MC for the first time* Oh my seven…

MC: …

The casting director: Their face, their eyes, their built… *turns to look at Vil’s dad* Oh, Eric! Where did you find such a fine specimen?!

Eric: *chuckles* They're a friend of Vil.

The casting director: *turns to MC again* Do you have any experience in acting?

MC: …

MC: Yes. But it was a long time ago.

The casting director: Oh? How come I've never seen you in any movie?

Vil: They usually played as a double at that time, especially for action scenes.

The casting director: A double? With this gorgeous face?

Eric, MC, and Vil: …

The casting director: Oh sweetheart, you are straight out of a fairy tale!

MC: Um…

The casting director: Everyone! We found our protagonist!

The staff: *cheers*

MC: …

MC: *smiles* We might've some misunderstanding—

The casting director: Thank you so much, Eric, for bringing me this one!

Eric: *chuckles* You're welcome.

Vil: …

Vil: Dad.

Eric: Er, I didn't know she was looking for someone to be a protagonist.

Vil: …

Vil: *has managed to convince the casting director to do a screen test first before deciding on MC*

The casting director: MC, don't be nervous. Okay?

MC: *nods*

The actress: Good luck. *smiles kindly at them*

MC: *smiles back* Thank you.

The casting director: Okay! Let's roll the camera!

Vil: …

The casting director: Action!

MC: *looks at the actress with a gentle gaze* *then subtly smiles*

Vil: …

The actress: …

The actress: *ends up blushing*

The casting director: Cut! Cut! That is perfect!

Vil: …

The actress: I-I’m sorry.

MC: *feeling slightly embarrassed* It’s alright.

Vil: …

Vil: Looks like you'll be doing separate work now.

MC: Yes. But I won't still be neglecting my duties here.

Vil: …

Vil: Have you told the news to Che’nya?

MC: Yes. *smiles* He was really happy about it.

Vil: …

Vil: I haven't congratulated you yet. Let's have a toast?

MC: It's already late and you have an appointment tomorrow.

Vil: You're right.

Vil: Let's do it tomorrow then.

MC: *smiles*

MC: Why are you still awake, Che’nya?

Che’nya: I wasn't able to call you all day, nya~.

MC: Yeah, I'm sorry. Something unexpected happened.

Che’nya: That you got scouted for a movie and received the protagonist role?

MC: …

MC: How did you know?

Che’nya: Nyaha~ The actress you practiced with is Neige’s co-star before!

MC: I see.

Che’nya: Congratulations nya~.

MC: *smiles* Thank you.

Che’nya: When will the taping start?

MC: In the next couple of weeks.

Che’nya: Hmm… Does that mean you have to stay there longer?

MC: Hm. Yes.

Che’nya: …

Che’nya: Nya love~

MC: Hm?

Che’nya: I miss you nya~!

MC: *chuckles* I miss you too.

Che’nya: *squeals* So sweet~! Bye-bye~! *ends the call*

MC: *smiles*

Neige: How did it go?

Che’nya: Nya love has no idea we're here!

*Both of them has arrived to the airport*

Neige: Oh Che’nya, I told you to inform MC.

Che’nya: Nope! I'm surprising my spouse! :3

#twisted wonderland #twst mc #twst chenya #twst vil #twst neige #twst vil and mc series 1

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solid-white · 10 days ago

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Tf2 details that a lot of people get wrong PT 2:

[Previous post]

The Administrator INCLUDING miss Pauling often severaly underestimate the mercs intelligence and capabilities, so much so that Demoman and Soldier got away with being friends for months (or they hid it THAT well, I wouldn't put it past Soldier).

In the last post, a lot of people were saying that Demoman was over 30. I'd like to argue that Demoman is at least in his late 20s during the WAR! issue, though he was in his 30s during the gravel wars and later comics too. But let's agree to disagree before people get annoyed at me for getting a characters age wrong, let's say he's between 29-36.

I keep saying this and I'LL KEEP SAYING THIS! Scout KNOWS who his dad is, there's so much evidence, and he's WAY smarter then most people give him credit for. I made an analysis about the Meet The Scout video and the fact he took down almost HALF of the blu team means he's CRAZY strategic AND I'LL KEEP GLAZING THAT MF. HE IS CLEVER.

In the last post I said Engineer has green eyes. I was wrong about that, the image I used was a fan model. He's always wearing goggles so what his eyes look like are unknown. Though I've been told he doesn't have any eyes sculpted into his model, other people say they're blue.

Spy's character is what the fandom thinks Scout is like. He loves destruction, laughs whenever something wrong happens, and you'll see him smiling whenever something chaotic is going on. He's the original chaos gremlin and I want more depictions of him being like that.

I didn't know the term last post so I called Soldier racist (since he doesn't care who you are as long as you're American). It's called xenophobic, which I didn't know was a thing. So thanks for the correction.

Medic isn't as strong as people depict. He gets his ass beaten A LOT, both in game play AND in the comics. He likes to observe the battle happening then he does fighting. But he DOES have muscle, so he's just a weak fighter.

Miss Pauling would NOT cover for their asses if she found out the mercs were dating the other team. Even if she finds it cute, she's more loyal to her boss then to her mercs. Before someone argues about whatever Heavy and Medic have going on and why she hasn't figured it out yet (which is definitely canon theres no way its not), this correlates to the other fact about her underestimating the mercs.

Miss Pauling also isn't a lesbian, that was just a joke the creator made and even then, Jay Pinkerton said himself that would be too simple (which I agree with). But people only listened to the lesbian part and not the tweet above it. Don't get me wrong, lesbian Pauling is funny but don't treat it as canonical.

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 scout #tf2 miss pauling #miss pauling #tf2 demoman #tf2 spy #tf2 heavy #tf2 medic #heavymedic #medic x heavy #red oktoberfest #tf2 the administrator #the administrator #tf2 soldier #tf2 engineer #tf2 zhanna #zhanna x soldier #zhanna

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angelfrombeneth · 7 months ago

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THE HOTEL - A . DONALDSON

Sexual Content Ahead

Art Donaldson x Fem!Chubby Gymnast Reader

Summary: The US Open wasn't just a tennis event, it was a dating pool and you were definitely successful this year.

Warnings: SMUT 18+, use of Y/N, P in V, Art is a munch, Art and Y/N yearning for one another

Note: If you have any suggestions for ANY sort of fic, do send me an ask. I do check them 💗

US OPEN 2006

Tashi had her final today. You were extremely excited. You had taken time off training to visit her. She didn't know you were coming and she was going to be so stoked.

You and Tashi have been friends for 13 years, both of you growing up together at such a young age. You watched her ease into the tennis scene to become the amazing player she is now. Likewise for you, she had watched you grow as a gymnast and the excitement you both had when you got scouted for the Olympic team in 2004, as you began training towards the next Olympics which was 2008.

Both of you bonded over your love for your own sport. Both of you dipping into eachothers sport and helping eachother train.

You walked into the area Tashi's mother said she'd be. You smiled, walking past the many rushing tennis managers and people. You didn't understand much about the logistics behind it.

Your low rise white shorts, clinging to your figure as you sported the matching cropped jumper and wore your bikini top below. It was a very hot day conveniently and you being a fashion obsessed girl, you had many outfits. Your belly button piercing shining with the sun that peak through the windows within the hallway as you stalked closer to the room she was in.

You knocked on the door, clutching your bag as you smiled.

'One minute!'

You heard, as you hear clamoring on the otherside of the door.

You watched as the door flung open to reveal your best friend as you smiled brightly at her.

"Y/N! YOU CAME!" She squealed jumping forward and hugging you tightly.

"Of course I would!" You hugged her back smiling as you both pulled away. "This is the fucking US Open, of course I'd come to see your final".

"I was worried you'd be too caught up and I didn't want to bother you" She smiled as she ushered you into the room.

You shut the door behind you, smiling as you sat upon a free chair, crossing your legs. "Tashi you never bother me. Your like a sister to me of course I'm going to support you. You are always there for me"

She smiled, sighing as she sat back in her chair. "God, its not that I'm nervous. I'll definitely win" You chuckled as that comment. "I'm just... I don't know, I don't want to let people down"

"Tashi. Shush. You are literally amazing, you have a fanbase already. You are going to do amazing" You smiled at her.

"Thanks Y/N. God, how have you been! How's training been?"

"Its been great, I'm really getting into the rhythm of everything especially because the Olympics are so close now only 2 years. I'm definitely nervous but I'll be prepared" She smiled at you, her eyes glistening as she watched you speak with such excitement about your sport.

"Any boys" She smirked, raising her brow.

"Don't be silly, I'd never date a gymnast, can't mix work and pleasure" You both laughed. "What about you? Any boys?"

She shook her head. "You know what my Dads like. No ones good enough for me"

"He's not wrong" You shrugged.

Tashi rolled her eyes, a light chuckle leaves her lips as she looked to the clock. "I like this" She smiled leaning forward and touching the velvet material of your shorts.

"Thank you! It's actually something they got made for the team" You turned around, revealing a tiny embroidered logo on the back of the jacket 'TEAM US'

"Ooo love it. I need one of these" She smiled.

You peered to the clock, smiling as you stood up, grabbing your bag. "I'm going to get to the stands. You'll do great out there" You smiled, your hand upon her shoulder as you leaned forward to kiss her cheek.

"Oh I know" She smirked at you.

"That's my girl!" You cheered, as you opened the door, waving at her before making your way out towards the court.

It was a very hot day today, extremely hot. The sun was beating down on you like you were in hell and being burt alive. Perfect weather for tanning you definitely thought multiple times.

You made your way to the stands, smiling at Tashi's family as you waved to them. Opting to sit closer to the centre of the court to watch the whole game play out. You took your place, settling your legs over one another and your bag in your lap as you pulled your hair up and clipped it with your clear claw clip.

You closed your eyes, sighing as you leaned back slightly, basking in the gentle beat of the sun as you pulled your sunglasses down. Tapping your foot against the air as your flip flop slipped up and down on your foot but perfectly balanced so it never fell off.

You relaxed, enjoying the beat of the sun but you felt a shadow cast over you. A pair of shadows.

You opened your eyes and pulled up your sunglasses as you looked at the two men stood above you.

"Are you Y/N Y/L?" The brunette one spoke.

"Yes" You smiled.

"I told you!-" He turned to his blonde friend as they both sat next to you.

"Its a pleasure to meet you. I'm not a huge gymnastics fan, but you are amazing at what you do and we'll obviously your Tashi's best friend" The brunette said.

"Tashi fans, I see" You smirked, sitting up as you looked to the two of them. "Do you want to sit?"

The blonde's face looked shocked while the brunette smirked, the two quickly sitting beside you.

"Wow. You really are an angel" The blonde one spoke.

"Thanks" You chuckled, a pink hue covered his face as he nibbled at his lip, looking down.

"So your both here to watch Tashi?"

The brunette nodded. "He's never seen her play and I was telling him he needs to. She's like the hottest woman alive" He blurts out, pointing to his friend, which made you chuckle.

Before the blonde could protest, the announcers voice filled the stadium. His eyes were focused on you as you turned to look at the court watching as Tashi's competitor entered.

"Whats it like?"

You turned your head to look at him. "Whats what like? Being friends with Tashi?"

"No, being an Olympian"

You were taken back. Most people who were into tennis would ask you what's it like being friends with Tashi. Not asking much about you. It didn't bother you because they shared a common interest - Tennis. But sometimes it did irk you.

"Oh- Its um.. its really amazing. Its such a blessing I'm very grateful" You smiled. He smiled at you, as both of you turned to watch the court as the crowd roared as Tashi walked out.

You focused on the game. Watching as Tashi darted across the court. She was truly amazing at what she does. You could hear mumbles from beside you from the two boys which made you chuckle. The way their eyes never left Tashi. Little did you know, the blonde took any chance to glance at you.

"COME ONNN!" Tashi screamed as she hit the winner. The scream didn't startle you as it had become a tradition whenever Tashi wins. You smiled brightly, clapping. You knew she'd win.

Her eyes darted to the stands as she found you, smiling to you as you picked up your hand and waved.

You smiled, sighing as you stood up. The two boys beside you staring up at you. The blonde's eyes never left your face, the way his gaze held on your features was mesmerising. Whereas the brunette, his gaze faltered as he glanced up and down, checking you out.

"Will I see you boys later at the Adidas party?" You smiled down as them.

"Um I d-"

"Yes! We will see you there!" The brunette cut off his friend as he nudged the boy.

"Great, I look forward to it" You gazed at the blonde, nibbling on the corner of your lip as you smiled at him. "See you later" You shimmied past the boys.

You skipped down the stairs, towards Tashi's family greeting them as you arrived.

ADIDAS AFTER PARTY

You and Tashi were dancing together. You two were big party girls, you planned to go to college together and live the party girl life - but with you getting scouted you wouldn't go to college but Tashi vowed she would. You would visit and you two would party hard together.

Tashi wore a beautiful strapless blue dress, as her hair hung low on her shoulders as she twirled around in the Royal blue.

You wore a little black dress, probably not entirely appropriate but you were always the slightly more scandalous one when it came to outfits.

"We've got some admirers" Tashi smirked, as she twirled you round as your eyes locked upon the two boys from earlier. You span back around, smiling at her as the two of you danced very raunchy upon one another. "I saw them sat with you at my match, the blonde one seems to be enamoured"

"He's so fucking cute Tashi, I can't get over it" You smirked, turning around and pushing your ass against Tashi's front as you slowly dropped to the floor and got back up so effortlessly. "The brunette one fucks with you. Alot"

"He's definitely my type. Seems very assertive" She smirked. You laughed as she took your hand and pulled you over to the seating at the side.

The pair of you sat and watched as the boys gravitated towards you both.

"You were amazing- I'm P-"

"I know who you are" Tashi smiled. You looked at her, confused because you didn't know who they were. "Fire and Ice right?" Then it all clicked. You had watched them a few times before with Tashi.

"Of course you know us" Patrick laughed.

"So which ones which" You smiled, pointing at the two of them as you leaned into Tashi. Which one was the fire, and which one was the ice. You do wonder.

They both chuckled at the two of you. You couldn't help but notice the way Art's gaze lingered on you even if he was talking to Tashi. She noticed it also.

The four of you engaged in light conversation before you were interupted.

"Tashi, sorry to bother you but we need you for pictures baby" Tashi's dad smiled.

"Sorry guys, hope you enjoy the party though!" Tashi smiled, taking your hand as she pulled you away with her.

The rest of the party went by quite quickly, you and Tashi enjoyed yourselves and you were glad to have been there with her.

You held your heels in your hands as you giggled, walking down the stairs to the house with Tashi in hand.

"I can't believe she had the audacity to even speak to you after doing that" You laughed.

"Hey!-"

You both turned to the voice, noticing Patrick and Art sat on some chairs in the corner. The two of you walked towards the boys.

"Hey? I thought you guys would've went home. You have a final tomorrow" Tashi spoke.

"Oh we both know how it's going to go"

"Its just the juniors"

The two boys spoke over eachother as you and Tashi raised and eyebrow at eachother.

"Do you both smoke?" Patrick asked the pair of you.

"No I can't, because of training" You shook your head

"No, why. Do you two?" Tashi asked as the two nodded.

"Come to the beach with us" Patrick pleaded.

"We really have to get back, but it was nice meeting you boys" Tashi smiled.

"Come to our room. Your in the same hotel as us I'm assuming. We are in room 206" Patrick peered to the both of you. A cigarette hanging from his mouth.

You chuckled, the way Art was so tentatively listening as his gaze pierced yours.

"We have beer-" Patricks only barging chip as he stared at the two of you.

"Goodnight boys" Tashi chuckled, the two of you walking away.

THE HOTEL

You weren't going to go. But the second you both got back you rushed to change into something comfy but also sexy. Tashi was confused by your action but you pleaded her to go. You had to see that blonde again.

"Y/N, he's going to Stanford with me. You can see him again then-"

"No Tash- He was giving me the 'fuck me eyes' I can't let this one slip through the cracks" You snapped. Pulling on the shortest shorts of your life as you slipped your chest into the tightest and most flattering bikini top you had.

Tashi laughed, changing into some shorts and a jacket as she looked at you. "You like him hm"

You nod as you looked at her, pulling your jacket on but stopping the zip so you can perfectly see your breasts.

She shook her head laughing as the pair of you both slipped on a pair of slippers and exited her room.

You both listened as you knocked once more. Hearing the boys scramble behind the door, mumbling to one another as you heard things being thrown around.

The pair of you stood up straight as the door flung open as they both stood infront of you. Your eyes instantly gravitate to Art, stood in his stanford tshirt and shorts.

"Do come in" Patrick ushered the two of you in. You noticed his absence of a shirt as he opted for a more freeing feel. You can't help but think how this is him all over.

The four of you sat on the floor, a lone can of beer in the middle as you and Tashi smiled at the boys.

"So.. how often does this happen" Tashi peered to the two boys.

"What?-" Art questioned

"Going for a pair of best friends. You get one each right" Tashi raised her brow.

"Not as often as you think" Patrick shrugged, opening the can and taking a swig of beer.

"You see, Patrick has a girlfriend"

"I do not" Patrick snapped at Art.

You smirked, amused by the two boys infront of you.

"So you have a girlfriend and what about you." Tashi looked at Art.

"Well Art, he's between ladies" Patrick smirked.

Art instantly hit Patrick, shaking gis head as he peered to you. "Now don't say that. It makes me seem like some sort of- what is it-"

"Player?" You raised your eyebrow.

"Yes that. Which I am not" He grit his teeth towards Patrick.

Tashi continued to talk to the boys. You opted to sit and listen. You couldn't help but let your eyes trail upon Art's figure. The way his muscles peeped from the shirt as you nibbled at your bottom lip. Fuck you were getting hot and bothered just looking at him.

"And he was just sat there.. just covered in it. He looked like a kid who spilt milk all over himself" Patrick laughed.

You were watching Art closely, the way his cheeks tinted pink as he got embarrassed. You were really paying attention to the story - you were too busy checking him out. But you know it was something about jerking off.

You felt movement beside you as Tashi stood up, looking around as she sat upon the bed. Smiling down at the three of you.

"Come" She looked at the group.

"Which one of us-" Art started before Patrick scrambled to her side.

You watched as Art didn't flinch. Didn't move. He sat on the floor still, looking at you. This made you smile. Finally someone who was interested in you.

You stood up, dusting yourself off as you sat upon the bed too, beside Tashi as you took Art's hand pulling him up with you.

You peered to the side, noticing Tashi and Patrick already making out with one another - rather aggressively.

Art sat beside you, his bottom lip caged in by his teeth as he stared at you. His eyes focused on yours, no wandering gaze at all.

You slid your hand around his neck as you leaned in, placing your lips onto his softly.

Quickly the two of you moulded together. His hand snaked it's way to your hip as he held you softly, pulling you closer. Your legs kicked up and hung over his as the the two of you deepened the kiss.

Your lips, moving against one another. His tongue darting into your mouth as it swirled around. You couldn't help but nip at his lip. The kiss was quick but very passionate. It gave you butterflies to say the least.

He pulled away, pushing your hair aside as he sucked on your neck. His lips suctioned to the skin as he kissed down it. Leaving slight red marks peppered across your neck as you softly sighed. A light moan leaving your lips.

Your eyes trailed to Tashi as she peered to you, smirking as she basically controlled Patrick's every movement.

Your gaze didn't linger long as Art nipped at your ear, causing you to let out a soft yelp as he tugged as it, before pulling away.

You stared at one another, lips plump, swallowen and covered in eachothers saliva as you panted softly.

Tashi clasped her hands together loudly standing up as she looked at you. "We should get going"

You looked at her, slightly dazed as Art's hand softly interlocked with yours. You stood up, standing beside Tashi

"But what about your number-" Patrick spoke.

"You'll have to guess" Tashi smiled. You looked at Art, a silent exchange before you and Tashi exited the room.

You hated Tashi for cutting that short. You wanted him. You wanted to run back and have more. Take him where he stood but Tashi said the wait would make him want you more.

During the night, you got up, slipping out of the room quietly as you walked down the hall. You found yourself yet again outside room 206.

You knocked on the door, instantly regretting it and going to turn around to run off, but the door opened.

"Y/N?" Art looked at you. His hair slightly disheaved like he had been sleeping. The room pitch black behind him.

"Oh- You were sleeping I'm sorry. I just- Had to see you" You toyed with your fingers.

A breathy chuckle, left his mouth as his hand touched yours as he smiled at you. "God you are truly breath taking" He sighed, his hands fit on your hips as he pulled you closer, his lips landing on yours once more.

It was rough and passionate, but still pleasurable. Your arms made its way around his neck as you pulled him closer. Your tongue toying with his as the kiss became sloppy and needier.

Art backed up into the room, as you kicked the door shut behind you. Darkness engulfing the two of you. You both chuckled as you navigated your way to the bed, feeling around for any sort of object as your eyes adjusted to the lack of light.

You fell back against the plush of the bed, breaking the kiss as you peered up at him. It was dark but you could still see just how perfect he was. You peered to the side to notice a sleeping Patrick beside you as you looked back to Art.

"Don't be too loud" He smirked, lifting you up and throwing you down higher up the bed. He crawled ontop of you, caging you in as you both smiled at one another.

"Do you get off on this? Your friend being right there?" You whispered, your arm around his neck as you pulled his closer to you.

"I'm not going to wake him up and kick him out. Took him ages to finally get to sleep he was jerking off for hours after you both left" He whispered back. You chuckled, as your hands tugged at his shirt, pulling it off as you pulled him in, kissing him once again.

Art pulled away, stripping himself of his clothes as he kneeled before you in just his boxers. You quickly stripped yourself of your shorts and jacket, throwing them across the room as you tugged on the knot of your bikini top letting it drop off.

"Fuck-" Art bit his lip, pulling the bikini off you as he left it sprawled on the bed beside the two of you. His lips travelling down your body, sucking and nipping at the skin. Leaving countless of marks but due to the darkness you wouldnt know till morning.

Art gripped your plush thighs tightly, groaning as he lowered his face between your legs. His mouth, sucking the fat of your thighs as he definitely left dark hickeys between them. His groans as he nipped at the flesh. Your hands found its way into his hair as you tugged at it, biting your lip to suppress your moan.

"You make me so fucking hard.." He groaned, kissing your lower stomach as he bit your panties, pulling them down with his teeth. "Fuck me.. you are sculpted by a goddess..." His hands found its way to your plush stomach, kneading the flesh as he licked his lips.

Art's lips trailed up your thigh, kissing and nipping at the skin as he tugged your panties off and dropped them to the floor.

You stared down at him, biting your lip as you saw his silhouettes move within the dark. He stared up at you, as his head perfectly positioned infront of your core, smiling as his lip sucked under his teeth as a slightly blush crept onto your cheeks.

"Mhmm.. You ready?" He smiled at you, that gorgeous golden retriever type smile. Art had you in his fucking clutches and you were melting, melting badly for this boy.

You nodded, rendered speechless by his movements. A light chuckle left his lips before he dove in - his tongue lapping over your folds as you threw your head back and reached to grip at his hair - gasping.

"H-holy fuck-" You croaked out a whisper as your back arched against the bed, your hair tugging at his locks but pushing him futher into you.

His tongue worked magic on you, swirling over your folds, diving into places that haven't yet been touched. You have never felt this way before, not even your hand could do this.

You were constantly taking long gasps of air as you whined quietly. Art's large pale hands, reached round both your thighs, squeezing the plush flesh harshly as he continued to devour on you.

You couldn't think, the way he was pampering, being attentive you were cared for and feeling good. Your breath began to quicken as you bit your lip, sighing. "Art- I'm close-" You croaked as your leg began to shake as you drew closer to your climax.

Art pulled away for a brief moment which had you overwhelmed - especially how close you were. But before you could protest he was leaning over you, his lips crashed onto yours as his fingers dove into you, fingering you through your high.

You pulled away, mouth hung open as whines fell from your lips, your hand tightly gripping his bicep as your toes curled as his fingers pistoned in and out of you. Your eyes rolling back as your whole body twitched as you came against his finger. "Ffffffuck!-" You choked.

Art wore a smirk, he was proud of himself, making you cum and making you so weak. He withdrew his fingers from you, instantly connecting with his mouth as he lapped his tongue around them, peering down at you as you watched him.

"Sweet. Just how I like it" He smiled, as he kneeled back on his legs as he looked at you.

After composing yourself you sat up, looking up at him as your hands rested upon his thighs.

"S'good" You smiled, your hand sliding up over his bulge as you kneaded your hand into it as your eyes never left his. Your eyes trained on his, glistening with that needy look.

Art flinched for a second, his eyes rolling for a brief moment as he took in a sharp gasp.

You both froze at the rustling of the crisp sheets beside you, both looking to Patrick, who had turned over, face now facing the two of you but still peacefully at rest.

"Don't worry about him" Art chuckled, dipping down and capturing your lips.

"Mhm- I'm not worried but what if he wakes up.." You pulled away briefly, his hand on the back of his neck as you peppered pecks onto his lips.

"Then he can watch me fuck you" He smirked, gripping at your thighs as he pressed a long kiss against your lips. He quickly kicked off his boxers, smirking as his hand worked on his length, pumping it a few times as you layed down getting comfortable against the bed.

"I know your fucking flexible Y/N, so let's play around with that" He chuckled, taking your legs and spreading them. You smirked at him, allowing him to pratically fold you out into the splits. His eyes glistening as he could put you into whatever position he desired.

"Fuck me.. you're making me harder" He laughed, his finger running up your folds, an instinctive jerk of your body as he lips cocked up into a smirk as he pushed himself into you, the pair of you sighing in unison.

Art's hand gripped both of your calfs either side of you, holding them down as he caged himself above you, as he began to slowly thrust gaining a rhythm into you.

Your hands flew to his bare chest, sighing as you bit your lip, your finger dipping between the crevasses of his chest as he rutted into you. You body bucking against the thrusts as you suppressed your vocals as you hummed.

Art leaned down, his lips capturing yours once again as he kissed you. Needing, you kissed him back, his grip on your calfs loosening as he moved his hands to either side your head on the pillow. Your legs instantly caging around his body, your arm around his neck and a hand on his face as the pair of you kissed. Your legs pulling him closer... further into you, as his hips needily snapped into yours. The sensation, the feelings of his body needily snapping against yours for any sense of friction from you - drove you insane.

Tangled up in one another, the pair of you continued to whine and moan as Art continued to thrust at a comfortable pace into you. It was good, it was nice. But you wanted more. Craved more.

Gripping his shoulder, you whined as you slowly maneuvered yourself to straddle yourself ontop of the man. Sliding him under you as you caged your plump thighs either side of his hips as you were still sunked down on his length.

"What are you doing?" Art sighed, his hands instantly gripping your waist as his head dove into your neck, nipping at the skin.

"Mhm- wanted to... ride you" You sighed, your hips rolling against his as your breath hitched. Your hands gripped to his shoulder as your back arched, your chest leant to Art's face.

His gaze on you never left, as his mouth slacked open as he fitted it over your breast. Sucking so feverishly on the skin as you let out a soft whine. His tongue lapping over your nipple as your breast occasionally popped from his lips.

As you grinded down against him, gripping his shoulders tightly still as a string of soft moans left your mouth - Art's mouth would toy between sucking and licking at your breast, constantly trained on the supple skin as hos ehes were always fixated on you.

"God you are so fucking beautiful" He sighed, pushing his face into your breasts, your hands wrapping around his neck as bounced up and down on his cock. Maneuvering yourself to slip up and down his length, your whole body bouncing with each movement.

You eyes, occasionally snapping to Patrick's sleeping figure beside you - going through scenarios in your head of what would happen if he woke up and saw his friend balls deep in you.

You heard a snap, your head snapped back to Art's as he smiled, taking his hands as he cupped your face inbetween them.

"Don't look at him. Why you looking at him? Look at me" He spoke, his hips harshly snapping up into you with each short phrase. You gasped, gripping his shoulder as your body recoiled against the thrusts.

Art noticed the quick obedience, smirking at this, his once folded legs were now unfolded, spread apart below you as he comfortably sat, gripping your hips as he began to snap his hips up into yours. Your body bouncing down against each thrust, his eyes trained on the way your breasts would bounce harshly with each snap of the hip.

You gasped, a loud moan leaving your throat as your hands pressed down harshly against Art's chest. His thrusts deep and curving up into you were sending you spiraling. You were close, you felt yourself getting hotter and htoter as the body below you, watched you attentively- small grunts and whines leaving his lips as he carefully listened to the sound of your skin slapping back down against his with each thrust.

"Art- I'm close-" You grit your teeth, your hands pressed onto his chest as you gasped.

"Good.. because so am i-" His hands gripping your waist before pushing himself up with his core, your body flying back to lay against the bed as he positioned himself above you. With no warning, thrusting aggressively into you, your legs flailing about as you let out a load moan, his hand flying over your mouth, as he held your hip up with the other. Your back arched against the mattress as Art, leaned above you, letting out soft whines, his face scrunching as he continued to piston into you.

"Fuck- fuck- Yes there!-" You moaned from behind his hand.

Art let go of your mouth, gripping your waist as his pace sped up completely, his head thrown back as he tried to control his whiney moans to be as quiet as possible as his thrusts began to grow sloppier.

"Oh yes- fuck me- right there!-" You yelped, clawing your hands forward to his chest as his hips snapped into yours once more as you both let out a rather loud moan in unison. Your body, twitching against his, as his cock twitched inside of you. You both pratically holding your breath as you both climaxed.

Sighing as his grip on you loosens, as you relax into the mattress below. Art's hands planted either side of you, as he slowly drew himself out to push himself back in slowly, looking down watching as both your juices collected at the bottom of his shaft as he grunted, dragging out the pair of your's high.

No words were exchange in that moment, just the sound of pants and slightly wetted skin, before Art pulled out, leaning back on his thighs as he peered down at you.

The pair of you, smiling, before you sat up, wrapping your arms around his and pecked his lips softly. You just stayed there briefly- in one another's arms. You don't know how long for, you were just comftable.

Eventually, you got up. Grabbing Art's phone as you put your number in. His hand gripping your wrist as his needy gaze locked onto yours.

"When will I see you again-" He whispered.

"When you want to" You smiled, handing him back his phone with your contact open on the screen. His phone, lighting up his face as a small smile appeared on his lips.

His grip loosened as you grabbed his shirt, throwing it over your naked body as you gathered your clothes before exiting the room.

You didn't know if you'd see Art again, despite giving him your number - it was about to be a long while till you heard from him again.

When the time was right, your paths would align again. Hopefully.

~~~

Thank you for reading this piece, I hope you enjoyed it. Please do heart this post if you enjoyed it and comment/send an ask if you have any suggestions for anything else.

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#art donaldson #challengers #challengers art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art x reader #mike faist #angelfrombenethfics

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