#ok but. do you all ever think about that one year gap they have in their ages | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

goldsbitch · 4 months

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Just don't talk-

-if you can't hear me. p2 to Just don't talk

summary: Enemies to lovers on steroids. Lando can't stand Y/N, the first female driver in F1. He also can't stand not having her with her clothes on.

warnings: minors do not interact, biting, cursing...just generally don't take this one too seriously

It would have been too obvious by the media teams to put Lando and Y/N together in a video out of the blue without any obvious reasons. The brands were not connected in any way and had a completely different online strategy. But serious damage had been done by the two at their last joint interview, so there was a meeting between the teams and F1 media and the request to have them paired up together at a next bubbly F1 video was bargained for and agreed upon in exchange for some favors.

There was a long and very detailed briefing for each of them. At the end they even received something resembling a script. They were both quite good at public speaking and charming the crowds, but it only worked on a spontaneity and intuition base. They were far from actors and the more instructions they received, the more mad it made them, each one in a different way, of course, because hell would freeze over before these two had found something in common. Lando had to fight the urge in him to slam the doors on all of these people. All this media planning was making Y/N dizzy. Had it been anyone else, she'd be slaying this like a pro. But for some stupid reason the PR teams were just not going to let them go and bury their little feud down. She thought this was a bad idea anyway - nothing good could come out of this.

And yet, there they were. Getting ready for the shoot in an F1 hospitality centre, with twenty other people, mostly film crew members. The two barely looked at each other, let alone said hello, just casually pretending the other one is invisible. The director really tried to get them hyped up before the shoot, resulting in one of the most awkward silence the poor lady had ever had the misfortune to have on her set. Only once she gave up and excused herself pretending to be adjusting the camera shot, did Lando shoot a quick look at Y/N. She'd already been looking at him. In that one look they shared their own hidden amusement, obviously enjoying having people being thrown into awkward situations because of their own incompetence to manage each other. At least, this was what Y/N was thinking. Lando was thinking about the gap between her thighs. And only she saw the way his eyes shot down shamelessly to her chest and giving her a quick approving look, probably non verbally complimenting the way hot the race suit covered her chest tightly.

"Who does a whisper challenge in this day and age anyway?" was an unspoken thought that many people shared while getting ready for yet another whisper challenge video to complete the collage of several driver from different team duos, one of which being the pair that was secretly playing with each other under the bedsheets every other night.

Finally, after final touch ups, they were sitting on a couch, across each other and as far away as the couch allowed. That was a conscious decision, as their bodies were becoming so familiar to the proximity and contact, that they had to actively stop each other from mimicking each other's gestures. "Ok guys, I understand this might not be the most comfortable thing you ever did, but we will have to push through it. Lando, will you be ready to introduce the video concept?"

"Yeah, sure," Lando sighed, trying desperately not let anything he that was actually on his mind slip his mouth. Like for example how stupid this was.

He turned his full on youtuber style speech mode on within seconds, actually shocking Y/N.

"Welcome everyone, we're here with F1 and today, we'll be trying a cross team whisper challenge - you never know with whom you'll be sharing a team in the next years anyway!" he said, having the first line vaguely memorized.

"Cut," said the director immediately after that first line. "Thank you Lando, that was some great energy," she dug deep into her professional training and started on the one thing that was positive. "But, the line should be something like "because we rarely get to know one another", your version is opening up place for some unwanted speculations. And, Y/N, you were obviously not ready, as your expression in more of a shock that excitement." It took them five more takes on this before the director made a note mentally to shoot a back up version with a different driver pair.

All the questions had a weird undertone. They were competing more than this situations required. People normally laughed during the takes - Lando was an expert on this, he did videos like this with Oscar often, and he gave him almost nothing to work with. He still managed. Not with Y/N. Tension grew over time. Y/N got almost all of her guesses on the first go. When it was his time, he was opted for staying silent than taking a wrong guess, so she had to repeat everything three times at least. Nobody in the room was having fun. The media interns present were terrified of having to present this at their next meeting and were already trying to find the most upbeat song to pair this up with in their group chat. Few more questions to end this nightmare of an afternoon for everyone.

"Would you like drive with me or do you prefer Oscar?" Lando's face was blank. Not giving any reaction. Y/N took a deep breath and looked to Lando's eyes once again. Same look as she had that one time he tied her up. Frustrated. "Would you like drive with me or do you prefer Oscar?" Still nothing. Dry. She smiled and repeated, loudly as if that was to help. "Would you like drive with me or do you prefer Oscar?" Lando finally responded. Without a beat. "Would you like to ride with me to see who comes first? Brain reads what the mind wants. One would think silence does not have a volume. Anyone present in that room on that day would know better. There were levels to silence and this was a loud one.

Now, innuendos were fairly normal theme in whisper challenges. And they were fun, little things to spice a lonely afternoon for those who were watching. But there was just something in the chemistry these two had that you could not just laugh it off or go on the "will they won't they" route. Aggressive undertone overcame any other vibes. There were two other lines for Lando to guess, he did not get any of them and the whole shoot was quickly wrapped up after. Both of them exited, again, without a word to anyone. Y/N was fuming internally. She texted Lando to come and see her immediately. So her dressing room it was.

"What the fuck, Lando?!"

"Hello to you too, miss fun," he responded, annoyed as ever.

"Don't. Just don't."

Communication was definitely not something they'd win contests at.

"You're exhausting me! I'm like...so mad!"

"Eloquent. You should write poetry. Would be treat to read," he responded, unfased by her outburst.

"Fine. Fuck you then," she lost it completely, anger and frustration built up in her finally taking the best of her. He thought she was mad? He hadn't seen mad. She could not care less of what he thought of her. When she got closer to him, he thought she was going for a kiss. Instead she grabbed him arm and bit him hard. Shock wave ran thought Lando and he froze in the spot. She held her teeth in long and firmly. Shock was quickly replaced by pain, a lot of pain. He played a hero for few moments and then gasped. She stopped with the first sound he made. He stared at her, shocked, confused and weirdly turned on. The pain turned into adrenaline high. A really strange high. He quickly looked at his arm and saw a bruise forming, marking the shape of her teeth. She had a proud look on her face, finally getting it out of her system.

"Great. Better now. Hope it stays on for weeks."

With that, she walked away, leaving confused and dazed Lando behind in her dressing room. He could still feel her teeth in and the adrenaline as if he had just drank three double espressos in one sitting. Why was this turning him on. Why was anything she did the hottest thing anyone ever did. And how the fuck was he suppose to cover this up. He had a photoshoot scheduled for tomorrow. And when was he going get to fuck her again?

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heavenlyfay3 · 3 months

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Sweet Like Sugar

Rick Grimes x reader

cw: smut, p in v, age gap, fingering

Rick was always so sweet to you he was the only one of your dad’s friends that you actually liked he never asked anything of you like the others did when they came to your house

the other two would always boss you around tell you to get them beers not ask basically demanding and of course your dad didn’t pay attention to it or care for that matter

Rick was different he didn’t ask or demand instead he told them to have some respect and he got up and got the beers himself he’d even apologize to you and sweeten you up by calling you that nickname that was only known by the two of you “Sugar”

He’d only call you that when no one was around when he'd ask you questions he didn’t actually care to get the answer too he just wanted to watch you to look at what he couldn’t have but craved so bad he wanted to look at the way your lips moved when you talked only for a second imagining them around his hard-on

not only are you too young you're his best friend's daughter although you’re an adult he’d still feel wrong about it but was he wrong was he really? Deep down you feel the same about him you’d hate to say it out loud but you wanted and craved him just as much as he did. you wanted to feel him inside you even if it was just his fingers

Not to mention that boyfriend of yours you only dated cause your friends kept asking when you'd get one and your parents liked him even though you didn't really he was an ok person but he wasn’t Rick. you'd never let him get farther than kissing you told him you were waiting till marriage really you just weren’t attracted to him

You were too busy thinking about Rick to find another guy attractive

no one noticed when he walked past you in the kitchen pressing his bulge against your ass and softly grabbing your hips to get to the fridge it was the hottest day of the year and your dad decided to have a barbecue of course Rick was invited and he needed a drink to cool down

no one noticed when it was just the two of you in the kitchen and he hugged you almost too tightly and almost for too long his strong arms wrapping around your frail body chest to chest his bulge pressing against your stomach his face in your neck taking your scent in for as long as he possibly could

no one noticed after you accidentally spilled lemonade on your cleavage and went to the bathroom to clean yourself up Rick followed you moments later you weren't expecting him to but you were hoping it was like he could read your mind or your body

"Mr.Grimes?" you called his name ever so sweetly but he hated it he hated when you called him that "Rick" sounded way better coming from those sugar-sweet lips of yours

"What did I tell you about that sugar?" he said with his eyes switching swiftly between your cleavage and your lips. he moved closer to you encasing your body between him and the bathroom sink

"m'sorry Rick i-i just got nervous when I saw you" You placed your hands on his arms that were on both sides of your hips and looked up at him with innocent eyes

"why have you been teasing me all day hhm sugar?" he asked looking for an actual answer Rick was a grown man he didn't like to be teased he liked it when his women said what they wanted so he could do exactly what they asked of him

in truth, you didn't actually mean to tease him although you did particularly pick a short sun dress that hadn't fit for years and that showed your tits in the best way you also bent down in front of him to get a beer from the cooler outside for your dad and you did look up at him with a sly smile biting your lip when he hugged you in the kitchen but you didn't mean to tease him right?

"you trying to frustrate me?....get my cock all hard for you and then do nothing bout it?"

"n-no sir i didn't mean to I swear I-" Before you could finish your sentence Rick slammed his lips against yours he was tired of talking he wanted you all day he was going to wait until everyone at the barbecue left to pretend to be a little too drunk to drive home and ask your dad if he could crash on the couch just to sneak up to your bedroom and have his way with you

He couldn't take it anymore if you were gonna be a tease he was gonna have you in the bathroom. As he kissed you one of his hands snaked around your hip and pulled you close the same way he did in the kitchen his other hand made its way to your thighs parting them for you to open your legs and give him access to your aching cunt

to his surprise, you weren't wearing panties. after the hug in the kitchen, they were soaked and you took them off upstairs in your bedroom you were gonna put on a new pair but you got distracted your mom called you back downstairs to help her with something

he felt heat coming from your needy cunt as you opened your legs for him and he stopped the kiss and looked into your eyes "No, panties Sugar?" he asked amused

you were embarrassed to admit he got you soaking wet without even touching you inappropriately just with his hands on your body "i- um th-they were too wet"

"oh really?" he asked as he palmed your pussy and rubbed the tip of his finger against your hole earning a gasp from your lips. you threw your head back as his hand started its attack on your clit using two fingers to rub it softly and slowly tease you just like you did him.

you'd never been touched like this by anyone but yourself even then you couldn't satisfy yourself to completion Rick's hands felt so much better than yours they were bigger, rougher and he definitely knew what he was doing "mhm Rick please i-i need more"

"More? you've never even had someone's hand on your pussy and you're asking for more?" he teased and teased you god did you regret doing it to him "please Rick" you begged

He took his time playing with your pussy going back to kiss you again as his finger slowly made its way to your hole stuffing it inside you thrusting you whined and whimpered even though you got more it wasnt enough you needed his cock

He inserted a second finger and curled them both as his other hand came up to your hip guiding you to sit on the bathroom counter and you did also putting your leg up giving him more access

you’re moans got louder as he used the position to rub your clit with his thumb and curl his two fingers inside you “oh god” you gripped his shoulders

“that’s my good girl soon you’ll be able to take my cock”

the two of you snapped out of the daze you were as you heard banging on the door luckily Rick locked it after following you “Y/n?….you okay you’ve been in there a while”

it was your boyfriend he had came at the worst possible time and Rick wasn’t letting up His fingers thrusting into your wet cunt earning a mix of a moan and gasp from you “i’m-i’m alright babe i’ll be out in a minute” “babe?” Rick mouthed at you he found it childish

“uh okay just come find me when your done okay?” your boyfriend said behind the door “yea okay” you made sure you heard his footsteps walk away before returning your attention to Rick and he was unbuckling his pants

The sight of his cock had you breathless you knew he was big but not this big it was about 9 inches veiny and thick there was no way you could take him

“Rick, holy shit” you said looking down at it “don’t make my ego bigger than it already is Sugar” you felt like he wasn’t taking you seriously he knew you were a virgin you told him even though you didn’t mean to you just blurted out one day

“why do you think i’ve been fingering you huh? i wouldn’t have wasted so much time if you weren’t a virgin”

“mhm okay j-just be gentle” Rick lined himself up to your hole and you gripped his shoulders tighter in their spot as he slowly pushed himself inside you taking a second with every inch. you took a breath as he did and ignored the pain as he grabbed your jaw and placed sweet kisses all over your face whispering that it was gonna be okay that it was gonna feel good soon

and it did he saw how your scrunched eyebrows relaxed and how the hands gripping his shoulders started to let go and move down his arms he started thrusting into your sopping wet cunt the sounds it made filling the bathroom

“Fuck” you moaned out he grabbed your hips as he slammed his hard cock into your hole over and over again every fascination every late night thinking about you with his hand around his shaft nothing could compare to the real thing

“that’s it baby, just like that” he said praising you as you moaned and whimpered you were getting too loud and you hadn’t even noticed he moved a hand from your hip to cover your mouth

“listen to you, you’re so needy whining like that around my cock you’ve been begging for this haven’t you?”

you could barely hear Rick you were too focused on the way he was making you feel him finally fucking you like you’ve wanted for so long it was so much better than you imagined you were too focused on the way he was holding your lips as he attacked your pussy now all red and swollen

Your slutty moans echoing in the bathroom, Rick prayed that no one would hear how he was good he was fucking you. “come here, Sugar” he said as he wrapped your arms around his neck and wrapped his around your body pulling you into a hug as his thrusts got sloppy and deeper thrusting up into you he was so close but he didn’t want to cum before you

you held Rick tight and moaned in his ear telling him you loved him as your legs started to shake and your mind went blank

a/n:this was not supposed to be as long as it is i honestly didn’t even plan on writing it..it literally came out of nowhere i was gonna start punishment or pleasure pt2 but i obviously got distracted

#smut #fanfic #rick grimes #rick grimes smut #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes fanfiction #the walking dead #rick twd

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just-some-random-blogger · 1 year

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Go Walk

Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: "For the record," I mutter under my breath, "if this was Coachella, I wouldn't have ever driven off with a grandpa."

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: Fem!reader, age gap w joel (≥10), chaotic mom!reader, petty!joel, baby girl!ellie, married couple fights™, angst?, fluff, slice of life, typos etc.

A/N: @sloanexx ito na. i snapped. indulge. also i havent proofread this so (: indulge in typos <3 I also cross-posted this on my AO3 <3 so yea lol Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace Technical p2 "Editorial"

The silence beyond the tires whirring on asphalt was cut by two words, "do it."

I ignore her.

"Do it."

I turn over my shoulder and stare at Ellie.

"Do it," she repeats as I look front, "it's just us and skeletons."

I roll my eyes, "ok."

"What? There were, like, 10 skeletons outside."

"You managed to count them all?" I cross my arms and look out from my side of the car.

"I did actually."

I lick my lips, eyes flickering to the driver who could not care less about our conversation.

"Do it."

I huff through my nose.

"Do it."

Joel's eyes flicker to the rear view mirror.

"Do it."

I shift in the front seat of the car.

"Do it," Ellie mutters louder, "Do it. Do it."

"Ellie, I swear to go-" I start.

"Do i-"

"Shut up," Joel grumbles

"..."

The tires scrape against the road. Ellie and I tense where Joel relaxes. His elbow goes on the side of the door, he leans his head in one hand while the other stays on the wheel.

I look to the rearview mirror. Ellie is looking at me. She mouths, "do it."

I press my lips and steal a look at Joel. He looks exasperated. I will get into trouble for this. But then again, when is he not exasperated, and when do I never not get into trouble?

Click. Off goes my seat belt.

Ellie's lips part.

Click. The window to my right goes down.

Ellie grins.

Quickly, I fold my knees and push myself up on my seat. I stick out my head and torso, flailing my hands up and out of the window. I shriek with glee. My hair flies back. Wind catches in my mouth. It's exhilarating.

Ellie cheers from the inside.

Rip. I am ripped back in, my shirt fisted in an iron clasp, my eardrums hammered by curses and growls laced with a Southern drawl, my eyes widened even through my squint of discomfort.

"ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE? WHY ARE YOU LETTING YOURSELF GET SUCKERED BY 12-YEAR-OLD?"

"I'M NOT TWEL-"

"It was my idea."

"That's what she wants you to think!"

"Hey!"

"Joel--" I huff.

He pulls away, closes the windows from the main panel, then grips both hands on the steering wheel.

"I was talking to her about going to Coachella," I trail off.

Joel scoffs, shaking his head, then turning back to me to give a gnarly stank eye, "does this fucking look like Coachella to you?"

I turn away from him and lick my teeth, "obviously it doesn't."

"Come on, Joel, she was just feeling sentimental," Ellie says, "it's nice not to be so--"

"Well, she better stop being sentimental real soon or it's going to get us all killed."

"Alright," I pinch my fingers together, "I'm sorry I did it, okay. But I already did it, there's no point in-"

"No!" Joel snaps, turning to me for a second, "you don't get to say that to me after pulling a stunt like that!"

"Joel, it's fine. I won't do it again-"

"No, it's not fine! What if someone heard us and comes-"

"No one's going to foll-"

"YOU DON'T KNOW THAT!"

"Ohemgee is that a truck following after-"

"Ellie," Joel growls, "I swear to g-"

"EXACTLY!" Ellie squeals, "NO ONE'S HERE!"

"I'm trying to keep you morons alive and you're purposefully making it harder!" Joel hisses.

I suck in a breath and place my hand on his arm, "Joel. Ok. I know-"

"It's not a big deal!" Ellie crosses her arms and leans back, "we're in the middle of nowhere for miles. You said it yourself."

"Ellie," I scold.

"Well," Joel huffs as he catches sight of our destination, "it will become a big deal once something bad happens, won't it?"

I recoil at his actions and huff. Ellie and I make eye contact, then I roll my eyes. I turn to the window, "for the record," I mutter under my breath, "if this was Coachella, I wouldn't have ever driven off with a grandpa."

Ellie slaps her hands on her mouth.

The tires skid. I shoot forward, held back only by the seatbelt I didn't even realize was put back on me. The engine hums and groans. Joel's knuckles turn white.

I turn to him. He grinds his teeth. My eyes widen as I turn to Ellie. We both chew our lips.

Joel slaps his hands on his lap as he turns to me, "by all means then," he motions, "feel free to walk."

Ellie's jaw slacks as she looks between us.

"What?" my upper lip curls.

Joel unlocks the door from the main control, "you can go scream at a tree and reminisce about Coachella outside the car."

I scoff and make a face of disbelief, "you want me to get out?"

Joel's face hardens. He doesn't respond though.

I trace my bottom lip with my tongue as I nod my head, "okay then."

"No don't lea- why are you getting out!" Ellie cries.

Thump. The door closes.

Skid. The tires grind against the asphalt as Joel drives off and Ellie twists to look at me from the backseat. Her eyes are wide, "YOU'RE ACTUALLY LEAVING HER."

"I gave her a choice," Joel notes bitterly.

"YOU ASKED HER TO LEAVE!" Ellie snaps.

"I said she was free to walk, and she chose to walk!" Joel counters.

Ellie turns back front and tugs at Joel's arm, "STOP DRIVING!"

Joel does not budge nor respond.

"JOEL!"

"She's a big girl," he quips, "all high and mighty with her attitude," he grumbles softly then raises his voice, "it'd do her good to walk back to base."

"You're an asshole!" Ellie says, crossing her arms.

Joel does not respond. His eyes flicker to the rear view mirror. He lets out a breath.

The moment they arrive and Joel parks, Ellie bursts out the door and begins to walk off.

"Hey!" Joel calls as he gets out of the car, "where do you think you're going?"

"To wait for her," she eyes him, "asshole."

"No," Joel marches to her and grabs her arm, "you're not going to walk to he-"

"I'm not going to walk to her!" Ellie snaps, pulling out of Joel's grip, "I'm just going to wait for her by the lamppost!"

Joel's attention darts to the broken, mossy lamppost, then to the barely visible figure, slowly inching forward from a distance. He turns back to Ellie then turns to the car, "fine. Help me put the things inside first."

"I'll do it la-"

"You'll do it now," Joel commands as he, himself, begins to unpack the supplies they managed to get.

Ellie grumbles and begrudgingly follows, "asshole."

By the time I arrive to our base, I smile at Ellie who dashes over to me and gives me a hug.

I can't help but laugh at her as I hug her back, "you're acting like I came back home from war."

"Joel's an asshole for leaving you," Ellie says against our embrace.

We pull away. I brush her baby hair back as she hooks her arm around my waist. I ask, "did you tell him that?"

"I also gave him the finger," Ellie says to me as she does the gesture.

"You shouldn't have done that," I drape my arm on her shoulders as we walk back, "he'll be all sulky about it."

"He deserved it," she retorts, "what if something did happen?"

I shake my head, "Ellie."

"No- I know... but what if-"

"Joel wouldn't have left me if he wasn't sure I'd be fine," I gesture to myself, "and I am. Call him a caring douchebag."

Ellie sighs, "he's so dramatic."

I let out a high pitched sound.

She snorts as she kicks a rock and then turns back to me, "nah, you're so right. You definitely are the dramatic one between the three of us."

"Hey," I raise a brow at her as I crush her into me, "you're the one that complains about doing the dishes."

"Well-"

"As if you weren't the one that eats the most."

"Hey, I'm a growing child!" she pouts, "and I, for one, think that I should only wash the dishes that he use."

I hum, "maybe you should walk then, because you can't drive."

"That's so not the same thing."

I shake my head and narrow my eyes, "it is, actually."

We make it inside the abandoned house we had been staying at and immediately, I look around for Joel.

"He's fixing the car," she begins to mime, "and doing the thing with the tube and the stick and-"

I raise a hand, "I got it."

"I personally think he's making an excuse so that he wouldn't have to talk to you right now," Ellie says as we head to the kitchen.

I smirk at her, "you reckon he'll make me sleep on the floor?"

Ellie laughs, "geez, I hope he doesn't. It's fucking freezing."

We begin to unpack some of the food we got.

"He's be a mega-asshole if he did," she makes a half-amused face.

I scrunch up my nose and nod.

"But if he does, I'll let you sleep with me, even though your a blanket hoarder."

I raise my hands up, "it's not like I can control that."

"You also have an iron grip, so I can't even pull it back on me," she tilts her head.

"Again," I open a can of beans, "I can't control that."

"You also move a lot when you sleep."

"Can't contro-"

"I change my mind," Ellie makes a face, "you should just get on your knees and beg..." she raises a finger, "or whatever it is you do when you're on your knees."

I release a breath.

She raises her hands and pulls her head back, "hey, two consenting adults."

"Okay," I quickly change the subject, "you know, I was thinking of fainting halfway through the walk, but then I figured I'd freeze to death before Joel came for me. Also he'd use it against me if I ever use the fact I used to jog a lot before as a reason to bring me on his 'solo' runs."

Ellie thinks for a moment, "that could work though, the fainting."

I snort, "what, should I faint just as he walks in the room?"

I dramatically throw my head back and place the back of my hand on my forehead, "he'd freak if I did."

Ellie and I giggle.

"If you faint, I'll put your body in the dumpster," Joel says as he walks in, pushing past me to something from the counter, then walks back.

Ellie and I purse our lips tightly as we watch him leave the room.

Once he's gone, Ellie and I begin to giggle again. She mutters, "asshole."

Later that night, after tucking Ellie in and kissing her good night, I went outside where Joel was still working on the car.

I shudder at the cold and wrap my arms around myself, "the jig is up, it's time to go to bed."

"I'm almost done," Joel mutters.

I roll my eyes, spotting the food I gave him, stagnant and cold in the place I put it hours ago, "you said that already."

Joel wipes his hand on the back of his pants then grunts. He circles from the front of the car to the driver's seat and starts the engine.

I breathe in deeply and huff, "you want some help?"

The car starts, then abruptly stops. Joel then closes the door and shoves something in his pocket, "I'm done." He walks to the open hood and bangs it close. He grabs his plate of food and begins eating as he walks past me.

I huff once more as I trail off after him.

"I made some tea," I mutter, "it's probably an piss cold now but-"

"Piss isn't cold," Joel retorts with a mouthfull.

I rub my eye.

We reach the kitchen, and by that time, Joel finished half of his plate. I give him a look as I watch him eat, "fucking hell, Joel, calm down. No one's going to take that from you."

"It tastes shit," he mumbles.

"Yeah," I cross my arms, "it was bearable when it was hot."

Joel shoves some more food in his mouth. I grunt, "and you didn't even wash your hands!" I chastise, walking over to him to push him to the sink.

Joel grunts as he moves to the sink against his will. He chews with full cheeks as he washes his hand in the miracle sink that had water.

He swallows before he mutters, "motor oil poisoning is the least of your problems, babe."

"Oh, yeah," I cock my head to the side as I hand him box of soap, "seems like it's at the top of your list, actually."

Joel finishes washing his hands before he averts his attention back to his food and mutters, "you're at the top of my list."

I watch as he stuffs his face again then walk up to him to pat his shoulder, "consider me flattered, big boy."

Before I could walk off, I am held back by my arm. I turn to Joel. His chewing slows. He releases his hold on me and leans on his palms, "stay."

I turn back to him and wrap my arms around myself.

Joel finishes the last of his food, thankfully, at a slightly slower pace.

I rub my arms as the cold nips at me.

"You want my jacket?"

I shake my head.

Joel adjusts the collar of his jacket, "you sure?"

"What is this, a romcom?"

Joel shrugs, "you tell me, you're the writer."

I lean my hip on the counter as I gesture at him, "this seems more like an apocalypse to me."

"Huh," he finishes the last of his food, "I wouldn't have guessed."

I purse my lips into a soft smile as Joel begins to wash his plate, "a dash of horror... maybe some farce."

The sound of water fills the beat of silence.

"Is Ellie asleep?"

I grunt, "I kissed her goodnight cause you were still brooding."

He doesn't respond. Joel finishes washing his plate. He puts it away and wipes his hands on a towel. He and I look at each other in silence.

Joel puts the towel down then mimics my stance. He leans back on the sink. I rub my arms. He crosses his.

I roll my shoulders back, "so."

"So," he repeats.

"Is this your way of saying you're still mad at me?"

"I'm mad at you?" Joel tilts his head.

"I don't know, are you?"

"Am I?"

"Joel."

"Would I want to stare at you if I were mad at you?"

I knit my brows, "is that what's happening?"

He looks at me.

"You're looking at me cos I'm hot?" I raise my brows and motion, "I haven't showered in days."

"Neither have I."

"Trust me, I can tell."

A moment passes. I cross my arms, "Joel-"

"Fine," he sighs, "I'm still annoyed at what you did."

"Okay. Which one?" I pucker my lips in thought, "the screaming or the old man joke."

"What do you think?" Joel deadpans, crossing his arms.

I walk up toward him and grab my chin in fake thought, "hmmmm, the second one."

I stop when I am directly in front of him and lean close to his face, "I don't actually think you're a grandpa."

He blinks.

I chuckle and reach out to his face. I rub his cheeks with my thumb as I kiss him. For a moment, I can feel him melt against me. I feel it in how he sighs and leans closer. When he doesn't reach out for me, I pull away and huff at his furrowed brows. I will the tension away as I stroke them.

He really wasn't about to let this go.

Joe stands up straight only to lean his forehead against mine, "scream like that again, I'll make you scream then gag you."

With that, he pulls away and walks off. I just stand there.

"Come on," he calls, "I'm stuck with you tonight since Ellie doesn't want you sleeping next to her."

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller fic #the last of us #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fic #the last of us fluff #joel miller smut #the last of us x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fluff

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

Text

comfort & chaos | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | chapter four: 2/22/22

summary: carmy receives bad news that changes his life forever, while you're relationship with him comes to a head. (the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you)

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+ only), death, grief, mentions of suicide, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, drinking & smoking, suggestive language

word count: 5.5k

listen to: hurting kind - del water gap | robbers - the 1975 | hostages - the howl & the hum

a/n: i need therapy after writing this. so sorry bbs love you all. ok but fr, i thought that i was going to write a smut scene that was not going to be hot bc we know it's canon that carmy does not fuck and then it ended up being really hot and i'm once again asking for therapy.

read: chapter three

2/22/22

Something happened. Can you come over?

That’s all the text said. It’s all that needed to be said for you to drop everything you were doing and hop on the subway. Your heart is pounding in your chest as you imagine every single worst case scenario possible. Carmy had given you little context in regards to what this was about, and you almost regret not asking as your mind runs rampant with possibilities. Not that he would’ve given you an answer. Something about him seemed different. He’d never sent that urgent of a text.

Not even when the restaurant was slammed and he needed you to come in on your day off.

Something happened.

The words continue to echo in your head until you reach him.

You're at Carmy’s doorstep faster than you ever thought your feet could carry you, and when he opens the door for you, your heart breaks. He’s wrecked. His face is a flushed red, though you don’t think it’s from crying, and he looks like he hasn’t washed his fuckin’ hair in days. You take in his somber expression, like all of the joy he’s ever experienced has been sucked out of him.

Carmy steps aside, allowing him into your apartment.

He mumbles something you can barely hear, gesturing towards the couch, so you follow him, taking a seat on the crappy couch you’ve come to love. He stares at the floor, his eyes cold and empty, as you sit in silence.

It’s you who breaks it, bursting at the seams with anxiety.

“Carmy, you’re scaring me,” you say softly.

He keeps his eyes fixed on the floor as he licks his lips, swallowing as he opens his mouth to say something. It’s a few moments later that he’s finally able to put two words together to tell you what happened.

“It’s Michael,” is all he manages to get out. You can hear the break in his voice when he utters Michael’s name, and you’re terrified of what he’s going to say next.

“Your brother?” you ask, secretly hoping he won’t say yes.

You feel your stomach drop.

Carmy nods slowly, “Yeah.”

He takes a few beats before saying anything else, his head swimming. On one hand it doesn’t feel real, and if he doesn’t say it out loud, maybe it won’t be. There’s a part of him that still thinks this is some cruel, sick joke that Mikey cooked up, just to fuck with him.

But he knows it’s real. He could hear it in the way that Sugar’s voice broke on the phone. He could hear it in the way that Richie practically screamed at him to stop being such a fuckin’ cuck and come home. He knows it’s real, because for the first time in years, his mom’s called him.

Must be Sugar or something calling from her phone for her…. ‘S gotta be, he thinks to himself.

“He’s-,” Carmy starts, before stopping again. Carmy looks away, in the opposite direction of you, focusing his eyes on something outside of the window.

He can’t look at you because if he looks at you, he might lose it.

“He’s dead.”

“Oh Carmy,” you gasp, your heart wrenching in your chest as the words leave his mouth. You reach out to touch him, but he flinches, pulling away from you.

“No,” is all he says through gritted teeth.

You cannot touch me. You cannot make me feel better about this because I’ll have to feel worse about this, is what he wants to say.

“The fuckin’ asshole shot himself on the State Street bridge. I don’t-, you don’t get to make me feel better about this,” he snaps, his tone almost a warning.

“Fuck,” you sigh, sitting up straight and leaning towards him. He may not want your comforts, so you’re going to give your presence. He had asked you to come over after all, right? “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he says, coldly.

His response is jarring, leaving an unsavory taste in your mouth. You understand that he’s just gotten the most unimaginable news, but it doesn’t sit right with that he’s taking it out on you either. Is that why he invited you over? To be his punching bag? Instead, you decide to pivot to crisis control-mode, hoping to remedy some of the animosity he’s harboring.

“Okay, well, I’ll call Kate and let her know that you can’t come in tonight, if that helps. Just so you don’t have to-,” you suggest.

“Why would you fucking do that?” he yells, snapping his head towards you as he finally turns towards you. You can see it in his eyes: how angry and devastated he is – at Michael, at what happened – and even though you know it’s not personal, it stings all the same.

“Because!” you shout back. “Carmy, you just found out-... something terrible. I just don’t think you should-.”

“Yeah, well you don’t get to tell me what to do. You’re not my mom and you’re not my girlfriend so,” he’s quick to retort, rebelliously.

You scoff at him, shaking your head in utter disbelief.

“You’ve got some fucking nerve, Carmen,” you cut him off with a yell. You know he’s hurting, but this is where you draw the line. “I’m well aware that I am not your girlfriend, but I am your friend, and I care about you.”

You’re right.

He knows you’re right.

He knows he’s being a dick, but it’s like he can’t stop his own rage from spilling out sideways as yells:

“Well, if you don’t want to be here, then get out!”

“Stop it!” you cut him off, venom in your voice.

Carmy looks at you, his bloodshot eyes wide with utter despair.

“You called me, Carmy. So shut the fuck up and let me fucking help,” you lower your voice, bringing the confrontation between the two of you back down.

With his eyes fixed to the floor, his mind zoning out to numb the pain, he manages to get out, “I don’t want to-. I need to go to work tonight.”

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” you plead softly, yet firmly.

“Yeah, well, you don’t get to make that decision,” he dismisses.

He’s right. You don’t.

“Yeah, okay,” you sigh, giving in.

It’s a horrible idea – for Carmy to go into the restaurant – but you know he’s going to do it anyway.

“What can I do for you in the meantime?”

“I just-, I don’t think I can be alone right now,” he mumbles, averting his eyes once again. “Can you just like… sit here with me? Till we gotta go?”

“Yeah.”

The afternoon passes slowly, and you feel like the both of you have been lit on fire – only a matter of time before you burn his whole place down. As you’re getting ready to leave, Carmy sprints into the bathroom, emptying what little contents he has in his stomach into the toilet. You’d been aware that he’d been having some trouble – throwing up before work – but he’d refused to see a doctor. Another decision he’d made clear wasn’t yours to make. What you weren’t aware of was that it had gotten this bad.

Like you’d imagined, going into the restaurant had been a mistake. It hadn’t taken long for Carmy to blow up at a line cook, mid-shift, over an undercooked duck breast. Sure, it was a big mistake, but Carmy had sent the line cook home after making a very public example of them. After the event, Tim had urged Carmy to take a break, offering to expedite for a few, while you rushed him into the walk-in.

“Hey! You can’t do this shit. Not here. These people look up to you!” you chastise him.

“He’s a fucking idiot! How do you undercook a fucking-,” Carmy yells, his face twisted into a look of disgust.

“Carmy!” you shout, stopping him mid-sentence.

You both know this is not about the duck breast.

You share a moment of silence together, the cold of the walk-in leaving goosebumps on your skin. You lower your voice, a quiet and intentional demand leave your lips as you instruct:

“Listen, I’m going to give you five minutes to fuckin’ lose it in here, and then you’ve gotta pull it together and finish dinner service, okay?”

He nods in response, his lips pressed together in a thin, tight line. You watch him pace a few times, before he clutches at his chest, his breathing becoming more uneven.

This is why coming in had been the worst idea ever.

“Carmy, are you o-?" you start, genuinely worried about him. You feel like your head is spinning. Carmy is losing control and all you can do is watch.

He holds out a hand, as if to stop you from coming any closer, so reluctantly, you leave him to it, closing the door behind you. The sound of empty storage containers being thrown across the walk-in fills your ears, as you close the door to the walk-in behind you. You feel like your heart is caught in your throat and watching him go through this is more painful than you could’ve ever imagined. You take a deep breath before returning to your station, keeping your head down for the rest of the shift.

Dinner service is pure chaos as Carmy undulates from unbroken focus to volatile and unpredictable throughout making the evening hell for the rest of you. The tension is thick, and it’s as if everyone is walking on eggshells around him, more so than normal. By the time it’s over, you insist on walking Carmy home. You make a stop at your favorite deli near his apartment to pick up a quart container of matzo ball soup on the way.

“You gotta eat something,” you encourage, the silence in his apartment deafening.

You’re met with silence as he stares blankly at the table in front of him, his spoon dipped into the soup. Instead, you sit with him, watching him take a few sips of the broth, while the actual food in the soup goes untouched. He doesn’t have the stomach for it.

He doesn’t know if he has the stomach for this either.

All of this. Any of this.

You eventually give in, packing up the soup to put in the fridge for another day, even though you know he’ll probably just toss it when you leave. Just when you think it’s time for you to go, he stops you with the most tender touch to your arm, as he asks:

“Stay?”

His eyes are watery, and although he’s going to let himself cry yet, he looks more vulnerable than he’s looked all day. How could you say no?

“Yeah,” you agree.

You change into one of your favorite t-shirts of his and the pair of sweatpants that he always seems to give you as you get ready for bed. He doesn’t even wear them anymore, as if he knows they’ve become your favorite… as if they’ve just become yours. You spend the evening with the TV on, not talking, just sitting in each others’ company. You watch as he smokes a cigarette inside, stress-running a hand through his slicked back hair from his shift earlier.

Tonight feels heavy.

Tonight is heavy.

Before bed, you fill up a glass of water for him, before placing it on his bedside table. Carmy lays on his back, staring up at the ceiling, as you crawl into bed with him.

He’s too afraid to his close his eye, because if he closes his eyes he’ll picture it: the State Street bridge, Michael….

How could he? he thinks to himself, the bitter taste of betrayal welling up at the bottom of his throat.

You close your eyes, trying your best to fall asleep next to Carmy – something that feels like an impossible task when you can practically hear him thinking out loud beside you. Instead, the two of you just lay there, frozen in silence. You’re not sure how long you’ve been doing it for when you feel Carmy shift closer to you.

He turns to you so tenderly, practically folding himself into your body, earning the smallest gasp of surprise from you. You’ve never seen him like this as he buries his face into your chest, his body shaking against yours. It’s then that you realize he’s crying, and you know it’s highly likely that this is the first time he’s cried since he heard the news.

“Carm?” you whisper, unsure if he wants you to acknowledge it or not.

“Carmy.”

But he doesn’t respond. He just cries.

So you let him.

“I’m so sorry, Carm. I’m so sorry,” you whisper, over and over again.

You stroke his hair, wanting nothing more than to ease the pain of your best friend, but you know there isn’t much you can do. Instead, you let him cry, running your fingers along his scalp and through his delicate curls, desperate to give him any kind of comfort you can. This is breaking your heart. You fight the tears coming to your eyes because this is so not about you right now.

Carmy’s body shakes against yours as he finally lets go, surrendering to the huge waves of pain and grief that crash and pull him under. He feels like he’s being taken under a riptide, never to see the surface again. He knows he’s been wildly unfair to you and as he weeps against your body and he’s not sure what he’s done to deserve someone like you.

Someone who chooses to say, even when he’s being a dick.

Someone who cares enough to fight with him.

Someone who cares for him like this.

When he finally looks up at you with bloodshot eyes and swollen lips, all he can think to do is to kiss you.

It catches you off guard as he surges forward, pressing his lips against yours, that for a moment, you let him.

But reality hits and you’re afraid he’s gotten too carried away, swept up in a moment of grief.

“Carmy, stop it. You’re not-, you’re not okay right now,” you murmur, pushing him away.

He leans his head against your chest again with a sigh, letting out another sob, almost as if he’s given up on the idea. You feel like he’s put you in an impossible position. You’d have been lying if you said you didn’t want to – hadn’t thought about kissing him before – but this felt wrong. He was vulnerable, and you know you’ll both regret it in the morning.

“I’m sorry, Carm,” you apologize quietly. “I just feel like-, well I’d feel like I'd be taking advantage. I don’t think we should.”

His silence only makes you more nervous, beginning to over explain yourself.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I-, I do. I just… I don’t want you to regret it because… because you’re upset right now and cause you more-.”

“Please,” is all he says, cutting you off mid-sentence. With the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the sun, the moon, and you hang the stars, you’re not sure how to say no.

Carmy leans in to kiss you once more before whispering mere inches away from your lips:

“Please.”

He presses his lips against yours again, immediately regretting his past self for not doing this sooner. He’s never tasted anything sweeter than you, and the way you kiss him back seems to bring all thoughts flooding his brain to a halt.

In between kisses you manage enough self control to stammer out, “Are you- are you sure? Is this really what you-?”

“Yes,” he replies, as if it’s a declaration.

“I’ve wanted this for so long. Just-, please,” he pleads, murmuring your name into the soft kisses he begins to leave across your collarbone. “Just wanna feel good.”

“Just wanna feel good,” he repeats.

You surrender, letting go of your own ambivalence as you focus on the way his lips feel against your skin. It’s then that you realize what absolute fucking idiots the two of you had been for the past few years by ignoring this thing between the two of you. For a moment, you’ll tear down the walls, the rigid boundaries that you’ve kept to help you compartmentalize your relationship with Carmy.

There’s no possibility of hiding from it when his body feels this good so close to yours.

The truth is that you are fully, wholly, and stupidly in love with each other.

“Yes,” you parrot.

With your confirmation, his mouth is back on yours, as you’re pulling him on top of you, deeper into your shared passionate liplock. He wonders why he’s denied himself the pleasure of having you, for this goddamn long. His tongue slides against yours, a tender hand moving up to cup your face. The way his name sounds tumbling out of your mouth sends him into a frenzy. It feels absolutely intoxicating and he can’t get enough.

Carmy’s hands begin to wander, fingertips sliding at an experimental pace underneath the hem of the t-shirt you’re wearing. You shudder against his touch, gasping as you anticipate where this is going.

Carmy raises his head to look at you, not sure if it’s a good thing or not.

“This okay?” he asks you, concern evident in his voice.

“Yeah,” you nod, giving him permission. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” he whispers.

And then he’s kissing you again, dragging calloused fingertips up and down your torso underneath the shirt, hesitantly making their way to where they’d like to be. You’re not wearing a bra, he realizes, as his fingertips find soft, supple skin at the rounded bottom of your breast. He follows the shape of it, before bringing a cautious palm up to grab hold of the fullness of your breast. You arch into his touch, encouraging him further. Carmy takes his time exploring your body, giving you the lightest touch as his fingertips graze your nipple.

“Can I take this off?” he questions, only willing to move forward if you say yes.

You nod, breathlessly, “Please.”

You watch as he sits up, pushing the hem of your shirt up over your breasts, revealing your bare body to him. He has to hold back a groan, swallowing hard.

Carmy stops what he’s doing, in pure awe of you, as he marvels at you. He can’t believe this is real: that you’re here, laying in his bed, allowing him to do the things he thought could only live in his head.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” are the words that tumble out of his mouth and you think you may cry.

“Touch me,” you whisper desperately, begging him to come back to you.

“Touch me, Carmy.”

Carmy lays his body over yours, and you spread your legs wider, allowing him to fit perfectly between them. He begins to roll his hips against yours as he returns his attention back to your bare breasts. He drags his fingertips over your erect nipples, following his touch with his mouth.

He practically groans as he wraps his lips around one of your nipples, earning a strangled whine from you as his hot, wet mouth engulfs you.

“Carmy,” you moan, arching into him.

He’s rolling his hips against your clothed core on pure instinct, as he takes his time, now exploring unfamiliar territory with his lips and his tongue. You find a good rhythm as he continues to drag his mouth over you, grinding your hips into his underneath your remaining clothes. He’s surprisingly good at this – something you hadn’t expected considering he’d let you know he didn’t have much experience when it came to dating. You assumed that that meant sexually as well.

As Carmy moves to your other breast, you feel one of his hands snake under the elastic waistband of your sweatpants, lifting his hips so he can feel you. You know you’ve soaked through your cotton panties from the anticipation, and it goes right to his dick as he feels just how wet you are. He doesn’t have much experience with this, but he’s seen in porn. He begins to rub circles across your clothed core, while he busies his mouth with exploring your other breast.

But he’s not quite where you want him.

“Wait,” you say, stopping him.

Had he just gotten caught up in the moment?

Did you not want to go this far?

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks you, a concerned tone in his voice.

“No,” you’re quick to reassure him, shaking your head. “No, I just-.”

Instead of explaining, you reach down to grab his hand, guiding him just a little higher up to your clit. He presses the rough pad of his index finger against it, finally touching you where you need him, gasping to let him know that he’s found the right spot. His eyes are locked on you, watching your face change as the new spot you’ve shown him brings you more pleasure than he could’ve imagined.

He practically groans into your mouth when he hears the way you whine his name, and he swears he’ll do anything to hear you say it again.

“There?” he asks you, rubbing tight circles across your clit.

“Yes,” you pant, growing wetter with every touch.

Carmy pulls away just for a moment, daring to touch you underneath your panties. You’re so wet for him, and he thinks he may lose his mind as he slides his index finger in between your folds curiously.

“Take them off,” you practically demand.

“Hm?” he hums, lost in the way you look at him with hooded lids and pupils blown out with pure desire.

He’s never been this guy.

The guy that gets the girl.

He never knew he could feel like this guy, but here you are, begging him to undress you.

“I said take them off,” you repeat yourself, more desperate this time. You take a lighter approach with what you say next, the smallest giggle in your voice. “And while you’re at it, we gotta get you naked too.”

“Yeah,” he says, with the kind of conviction he’d say ‘heard’ with.

He’s stripping off his shirt, and you’re sliding your pants and underwear off with him.

“I have a condom in my emergency kit,” you say, the both of you busy shedding your clothes.

“Yeah?” he asks you, relieved to hear it. He hadn’t thought that far yet.

“Yeah, hold on,” you reply, getting up from the bed.

Carmy thinks he may pass out as he watches you stand, giving him a full view of your naked body. You disappear only for a moment, before returning with the small emergency kit you always keep in your backpack. It’s equipped with all the ‘just-in-cases:’ tampons, panty liners, safety pins… condoms. You pull out a single condom before returning to the bed. Carmy’s kneeling on the bed, and you mirror his body language, doing the same.

“What would you like to do?” you inquire softly.

As turned on and hot for him as you are, you want to make sure that he still wants to do this. He finds himself surprised at your question, not sure how to answer it.

“Think we can just pick up where we left off?” he asks you.

“Yeah,” you reply.

You place the condom down beside you on the bed, before leaning in to press your lips against his again. He inhales as you kiss him, his tongue immediately sliding against yours as one of his hands goes to the back of your head, pulling you closer to him. He’s surprised as you pull away from him, beginning to leave hot, open mouthed kisses down his neck, his chest, and he hisses in anticipation as run your hands down his muscular abdomen, following with your mouth.

“Hold on, I uh-,” he stutters out, as he anticipates where you’re going with this.

You pause, sitting up tall as you kneel, your body across from his.

“I just uh… if you do that, I don’t know if I’ll last long,” he admits, a blush running across his cheeks.

“Yeah, no. Totally cool,” you reassure him, before crashing your lips against his once again.

As you tangle your tongues together once again, Carmy begins to lead you down towards the bed, pushing you back, and climbing on top of you. He still has his sweatpants on, so you begin to bring your hands down to them. He hisses as you cup his rock hard erection, pleasantly surprised by what you feel.

“Wanna take these off?” you ask in between kisses.

“Yeah,” Carmy nods, sitting up for a moment.

You wait with baited breath as he strips his sweatpants off, wondering if he’s as thick as he feels. You’re practically pulsing, squeezing around nothing as you finally see him, Carmy, your best friend, fully naked.

God, he’s beautiful.

How had you not noticed how physically attractive he was?

It’s not that you hadn’t noticed. It’s that you hadn’t let yourself think about it.

You reach over to where you left the condom, handing it to him. Carmy takes it, a blush running across his cheeks as he rolls it on, still in disbelief that you’re about to do this. He returns to you, laying his body over top of you as you space for him once again between your legs. He’s hesitant to give you his full bodyweight as he gives you a long, passionate kiss. And before he knows it, you’re reaching down to stroke him, and he’s thrusting into your hand, his breath becoming heavier and heavier.

You feel him as he presses his tip against you, rubbing it up and down before pushing into you. You both gasp as he gives you shallow thrusts, testing the waters, thrusting deeper into you with each one.

He pauses, exhaling as he’s fully inside of you. You’re pulsing around him, practically causing him to lose his mind with the way you feel alone.

“Fffffuck, you feel good,” he moans, trying not to cum right then and there.

He begins giving you shallow, hesitant thrusts, unsure of himself. He wants to make you feel good. And he’s also terrified that this is going to end before it’s even properly started.

Carmy stops again, pausing within you.

“Sorry, I just-.”

“No, it’s okay. Take your time.”

He’s nervous. You can tell he’s nervous and that he’s trying not to cum.

“How about… I take control?” you suggest, hesitantly. “And that way, if you need me to stop we can um… well, you can just tell me.”

“Uh… yeah,” he agrees with a nod. “Sure.”

Clumsily, the two of you switch positions, making sure he knows you’re okay with this. As he lies on his back, staring up at you, you straddle his hips, giving him the smallest smile. You reach down, guiding him into you once again. You gasp as he fills you, his thick cock stretching you, especially in this position. Carmy’s hands go to your hips as he watches you take him.

“You feel really good too, Carm,” you finally say, your hands moving to his chest to brace yourself as you begin shifting your hips forward and back at the most unbearably slow pace.

Carmy thinks he must be dreaming as he watches you ride him. His hands slide over your hips, wrapping around your body so that he can touch your butt. He’s practically digging the pads of his fingers into your hips as you begin moving over him at a faster pace.

“Shit… you’re really good at this,” he groans, as you lean down to kiss him.

You giggle against his lips, and whatever thoughts he has in his head disappear. Carmy begins thrusting up into you, his hands on your hips encouraging you to move a little faster as you kiss him. You’re moaning his name, whining as you feel every single inch of his cock slide against your walls, becoming more and more breathless by the minute. Your gasps turn into moans, getting higher in pitch as you go. His hands are guiding your hips, taking some control back as you grind against each other.

“Carmy,” you cry out as he thrusts his hips hard into you. “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna cum.”

“Yeah?” he asks. You nod, breathless, as you bury your face into his chest.

He holds your hips down, pinning you down against him as pushing his hips into yours.

“You wanna switch?” he asks, breathless. “Can I-?”

“Please,” you reply eagerly.

You switch positions once more, and as Carmy guides himself into you again, you can tell he’s much more confident than last time you’d found yourself in this position. You wrap a leg around his waist and he holds you there, beginning to move his hips against yours again. He works his way up to a rapid pace, his face turning red as he does, and you’re writhing underneath his body, whispering the dirtiest things into his ear with every single thrust.

“Holy shit, Carmy. You feel so goddamn good too,” you praise him. “God, you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Yeah?” he manages to get out in between grunts.

“Yes. Please let me cum,” you beg him, as he hits that spot inside of you, earning another loud cry.

“Don’t stop.”

He’s surprised to learn that he likes it when you beg as he tangles his fingers with yours, pinning you down so that he can fuck you. With your hand in his, so close to your climax, you let slip:

“I thought about this too. I’ve wanted this for so long too, Carmy.”

“Fuck,” he howls as he drives into you, his sole purpose to earn more praise from you. To hear you cry out his name. To give you what you’ve been begging for.

You angle your hips upward so that he can go even deeper, hitting all the way to the back of you. You’re grasping at his back, his arms, his biceps, hanging onto any piece of him that you can as he shudders, letting out the most guttural sounds. You’re squeezing around him, as he takes you to your high. The feeling of you cumming, squeezing around him like your life depends on it drive him wild, and he’s fucking you through it, the feeling of your orgasm bringing him to his.

As you finally come down, you pull Carmy in for a searing kiss.

“Holy shit, Carm,” you say, breathlessly.

“Yeah,” he pants against your lips.

Even if just for tonight, all feels right in the world.

This feels right.

The light of day is sobering. Before Carmy’s even had a chance to open his eyes, the events of the day before come flooding in, running in vicious circles around his mind: the phone call from Sugar, Richie screaming at him… and then….

Fuck.

He’d crossed the line with you.

He doesn’t know whether to be mad at himself or devastated that he fucked up, considering he’s sure as hell not going to let himself feel anything about Mikey yet.

Michael.

Michael’s dead.

And he might’ve done the one thing he swore he wouldn’t do – the one thing that he’d been afraid of: that he might just lose you.

As you stir in bed next to him, slowly blinking your eyes open, you turn over on your side. Carmy’s sitting on the edge of the bed and you can see Carmy’s stuck in his head. While you’d let yourself surrender to whatever that was last night, you knew today was different.

“Hey,” is all you say, hugging Carmy’s bed sheets closer to your naked body.

“Um… listen. We don’t have to-,” you begin, searching for the right words. “Let’s just forget about this, okay? I don’t-. You’ve got a lot going right now and-.”

You take a breath. You know the two of you can’t be together right now, even after your revelation last night.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

Carmy swallows, fighting back the emotions that begin to swell in his chest.

He feels sick to his stomach.

But he doesn’t want to do this in front of you.

“Yeah, no. We can… we can just forget it,” is all he gets out, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“You sure?” you question.

He takes a beat before answering:

“I don’t want to lose you either.”

And even with the declaration you’d made – the promise to forget since neither of you could afford to lose each other – things had become different. In the weeks following, your communications with Carmy were less than normal. While you understood he was processing, grieving, he’d withdrawn from you, and it hurt more than you had the words for.

You’d check in, making sure he knew you were here for him if he needed to talk. But he put his head down, working night after night at the restaurant, cold, stoic, and checked out. You worried about him. And you also knew that you both needed some space from each other.

Some days you regret it – sleeping together – and other days, you don’t. You think that maybe everyone had been right about the two of you all along – that this had been inevitable. But it happened under the worst timing, the worst circumstances and you miss your best friend. You wish, in some ways, that two of you could just go back to normal.

read: chapter five

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila @cool-girl-is-hot @nunya7394 @galaxyprincess51-blog @carmensberzattos @blue-weekends @rexorangecouny @ridingthehotmessexpress @the-nursery

#carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto headcanon #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #comfort and chaos #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #smut sunday

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star-suh · 6 months

Text

Love for Sale

Lee Sangyeon x Male Reader

cw: top sangyeon, college au, pwp, age gap (sangyeon is 30 and reader is 20+), sex toy, blowjob, fingering, window sex, frottage, spit as lube, sir kink(?), facial, implied multiple rounds, happy ending (but not that kind of happy ending 😏).

—

y/n was struggling to pay his college, his part-time job was no longer enough. one day while looking at the profiles on a dating app he saw one that caught his attention, the most handsome man he had ever seen, he tapped the profile displaying all his personal info "sangyeon huh?.. and he's looking for a sugar baby… interesting".

y/n send a “hello” which was answered almost immediately by sangyeon "hello handsome." y/n decided to be forward and wrote "i’m interested in the sugar baby thing. i really need the money.", “well then i suppose you know how this works” replied sangyeon…

sangyeon sent y/n the address of the hotel and the room number so they could meet there. “ok y/n you got this” he declared, slapping gently his right cheek. y/n hasn't had sex in over a year so he's a little nervous "damn" he shouted in a low tone "have i prepared myself well?" he asked himself as the elevator went up, "what if he fucks me but then doesn't pay me?" millions of scenarios came to his mind until the elevator doors finally opened bringing him out of his thoughts. walking slowly y/n looked door to door looking for the correct room number... "it's here... it's fine y/n do it for the money" he sighed.

y/n knocked on the door, a few seconds later it opened revealing the sexy man behind it "welcome" he greeted "sangyeon, nice to meet you" he extended his hand to shake y/n's "oh... hello haha it-it's y/n". sangyeon laughed when he saw the boy, "wipe your drool," he joked, murmuring a "cute” very quietly that y/n didn't hear.

"well, let's do it" says y/n causing a smirk to appear on sangyeon's face "so eager, aren't we?" the older grabs y/n by his chin, guiding him towards his lips to give him a kiss. lips clashing together, their tongues exploring the inside of each other's mouths sharing the saliva between them. sangyeon's hand went down y/n's pants unbuckling the belt and then discarding it along with the underwear, he continued going down until he touched something metallic "umm what is this?" he broke the kiss to look. "uhh it's a plug... i thought that since you're a busy man you wouldn't have much time so... i prepared myself before coming here..", "how thoughtful" the older smiled, kissing and licking the younger's neck.

y/n sat face to face with sangyeon, bringing both cocks together with his hands and began to rub them, the friction causing a delicious heat. y/n could feel how sangyeon's cock was growing in his hands getting bigger and thicker "sir you have a fat monster cock" he moaned.

the top grabs the other by the shoulders moving towards him, putting his lips close to the other's ear and with a low and sexy voice he whispers "and you're going to have it all inside you soon”.

"that's it, spit on it, cover it all with your saliva" sangyeon demanded and the other male just obeyed starting to suck his cock, trying to leave it as wet as possible using his tongue to smear the saliva all over his shaft with a little going down to his balls and dripping from there. “i think this is enough sir” y/n talked with his mouth still stuffed.

y/n sat on sangyeon, feeling the pleasant contrast between the cold saliva and the hot dick he was about to ride. moving his hips up and down feeling every vein of that fat cock. sangyeon's satisfied face let y/n know that he was doing a good job "that's it, keep it up" the top groaned, his huge veiny hands groping y/n's ass cheeks then using them to guide him to speed up his movements. these movements were so erratic that at one point sangyeon's cock came out of the hole with a 'pop' sound. “you're doing a good job” praised the man fingering the used hole.

sangyeon tapped y/n's thigh twice to get him to stand up, he grabbed his hand walking towards the window. “no one will be able to see us from here" he murmured, biting the other's ear. y/n was being pressed by sangyeon's huge frame against the window, watching as his dick hit the window every time sangyeon gave a hard thrust, staining it with his pre-cum "shit you're leaking a lot... apparently you like the idea of being seen huh?”. y/n shook his head saying no, “what was that? you're saying no but your body says otherwise”.

y/n was a mess of moans and embarrasment, he couldn't deny the enormous pleasure that sangyeon was making him feel, he was reaching places that no one else had reached before, opening him to new experiences and sensations. "you make me feel so good sir sangyeon, i want more" the younger begged. "believe me, from now on you're going to have a lot more of this" said the other, inserting his fingers into the abused hole along with his cock, overstimulating the boy so much that he came untouched, his cock splurting cum that landed on the window, " a masterpiece" the taller laughed, "now be a good boy and kneel in front of me" y/n obeyed and waited there with his mouth open and tongue out as sangyeon jerked off, his loud moans reaching y/n's dick directly making it hard again. “shit” he moaned spilling his seed on y/n, covering his face and part of his chest.

both share a kiss “it looks that your friend wants more” y/n tapped on sangyeon's still hard dick making it bounce, sangyeon's sexy smirk appeared again “round 2?”...

months have passed since the first meeting between the two of them, what started simply as a money-sex relationship ended with both of them catching feelings for each other. on one of the few dates where they had dinner, sangyeon decided to take the first step and confess his feelings for the other, however he was prepared to be rejected. “i think i love you too" those simple words filled the older's heart with so much joy that he just screamed with excitement, drawing the attention of the other customers "i'm sorry, keep enjoying your food" he apologized and the only thing y/n did was laughing at him feeling secondhand embarrassment. nowadays the couple is very happy, knowing that they have each other for the rest of their lives.

#lee sangyeon x male reader #sangyeon x male reader #lee sangyeon x male reader smut #sangyeon x male reader smut #male reader #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut #smut #male reader smut #sangyeon smut

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meshlasolus · 7 months

Text

Your Beauty Never Ever Scared Me

Dbf!Joel Miller x College!Reader

A/n: Listen… I don’t have any excuse for ditching my other three active series except for tiktok made me do it… That, and the CLM series by @macfrog has ascended me to a new level of crazy and I just needed an outlet for it somewhere. Another shoutout to @theatrelove3000 who keeps putting up with my dbf joel shenanigans, they are indeed insane.

Warnings: girl this whole concept should be a warning but anyways… age gap, some fluff, light smut, uncomfortable situations with readers father… probably some editing mistakes bc ya girl is tired ok its 2am

Please be kind to this chapter, I actually like it, despite the horrors.

Decided on the song ‘Mary On A Cross‘ by Ghost for this one bc it fits ig.

MASTERLIST

Age gap is approximately 15 years or so, reader is over 21 and joel is about 37

"I think I'd probably only slow'ya down," you chuckled, looking to Sarah who seemed to read the displeasure off your face from your dad's offer. "I'm studyin' to be an archeologist, dad. I don't know nothin' about framin' and all that house buildin'..."

Maybe it had been your dad's idea, but he wasn't the one who planted it into his own head. Joel subtly turned to you and cooly uttered a response.

"You could work on interior stuff with me."

It had been almost three days.

You looked out the window to the front of your house repeatedly to try and remember it clearly. The drive home, the kiss, and how abruptly it ended with a promise to see each other around. You thought about it so often you almost wondered if it happened the way you perceived it, if any details had been skewed in your mind simply because you wanted to keep it there, fresh, untouched. Maybe he thought of it differently... but maybe he didn't.

"Did you bring home the stuff I asked ya?" Your dad came into the kitchen with a smile, embracing you with a side hug and turning to help you unpack the groceries.

"Course' I did, Pa," you handed him the bag with the six-pack of bud and the other one full of snacks.

It was the first Rangers game night, and as per tradition, that meant the company of the next-door neighbors. It had been a while since you'd been around to enjoy it, but now that you were back, there were quite a few more reasons why you were on edge to now participate. It would look weird if you came up with an excuse not to be there, and you knew that. You also knrw that you'd gotten into a rather complicated entanglement with your father's closest friend, and weren't sure what the outcome really was.

Had that driveway light not spooked you both apart, and had that little black stray cat not made an appearance, how far would it have gone? Things were pretty heated, but even still. Would he have said something? Maybe along the lines of 'I've known you since you were sixteen, and this isn't appropriate at all.'

You didn't have time to think about it, you were set to work on helping your dad cook dinner for the soon-arriving neighbors. Dinner and a baseball game, once a relaxing and enjoyable time to bond with your dad, now turned into an anxiety fest where you were convinced you'd have to walk on pins and needles around every topic.

"So," your dad piped up from his silence at the stove, stirring the pot of chili he'd been prepping. "Joel told me he gave you a ride 'few nights back."

You knew it was harmless, and that he wasn't asking for any reason, other than that he was probably curious. You hadn't seen Joel in a while, not since two Christmases ago. Your dad had driven up to Dallas to spend both Thanksgiving and Christmas with you last year, and you didn't come home for summer break given an internship opportunity. You must have seemed different to the man in some way. All grown up.

"Yeah, gave me a ride n' saved me at the bar," you chuckled, trying to seem playful and unsuspicious about the encounter.

He seemed to be confused, his brows furrowed and a funny look on his face.

"Whad'ya mean he saved ya?" he of course was continuing to speak all the while dumping his favorite spices into the pot of chili, looking across here and now to keep engaged.

"Just scared off some weirdo who couldn't take no for an answer," you let a sweet and genuine smile fall across your features, but didn't let it get out of hand. Your relationship with your father was airtight, and he could read you pretty damn well. You weren't going to give anything away, not with what was potentially on the line.

"Glad he was there," he replied with a chuckle, sending you a soft glance. "Never thought you'd have grown up so fast, now I gotta carry a shotgun whenever we go places. Fend off the wild beasts."

His jokes were only so funny now, because in this situation, you knew he wouldn't hesitate to shoot Joel if he found out what had happened. All in the nature of protecting you, but it made you sad to think of the situation that way. Joel wasn't just another weirdo following you around at a bar.

"It's only because I'm so pretty," you did your best to respond lightheartedly, making a quip that would soothe the silence. "And I believe that's yours and Mama's fault, givin' me the genes and what not."

You'd finished chopping a nice garden salad by the time the doorbell rang. You ran upstairs to change your shirt to the Jersey your dad bought you for your birthday, claiming it was good luck for the team. Truth be told, you didn't wanna be downstairs when Joel and Sarah got here.

Sarah was here, too. Her, you could easily handle. You were almost hoping that she would be in a rather talkative mood, that way the attention could be swayed to her inconspicuously. You doubted Joel would even try to talk to you, anyway.

"Lovebug, come on down, Millers are here!" Your dad shouted up, even though he saw you run upstairs right when the doorbell rang to change your shirt.

"I'm comin', hold on," you replied sassily while heading for the staircase.

You got to the bottom and had to take a breath before turning the corner into the entryway. Joel stood there with a sweet smile to you, and you tried your best to hold back the one you wore. It was too bright, too happy to see him. All despite your nerves.

You were quickly embraced by Sarah, whom you paid immediate attention to.

"My lordy, girl," you held up your hand by your shoulder to show the height difference, "last time I saw you, you must've been this tall."

"Dad tells me I'm growing like a weed," she tossed a finger over her shoulder to where he was standing, and you gave him a small glance and a smile.

"Us daughters do have a tendency to grow up," you laughed, slinging an arm around Sarah and pulling her along to the kitchen as your dad and Joel did the same behind you.

Why had you been so anxious? Joel is happy to see you. He makes causal conversation with your dad, but he catches your eye every chance he gets. His expression doesn't change, except for the tug of his lips in a smile that's barely there. Joel doesn't smile too often, except apparently when you and Sarah are around.

It doesn't take long for everyone to get situated with their food at the table, playful banter between Joel and your father filling the air as you made less rambunctious chatter with Sarah.

She's doing pretty well since last you saw her. She was always a bright girl, but as she grew it became more apparent that she would probably excel further than anyone in her graduating class. You were sitting across from a future valedictorian, you were sure.

You'd tried to ask her about her out of school interests before your dad interrupted with a question.

"How about you, lovebug?" He watched your eyes flick over to him with a turn of your head. He added context, given you hadn't been listening to them earlier. "Are you gonna look for a summer job?"

You really should, if you're being honest. There's not much work in your aspiring profession located here, but you weren't as lucrative as you used to be, given your educational expenses.

"I've thought about it," you tilted your head back and forth, and your dad seemed to need more from your answer. "I need to earn some cash before I get back to Dallas, but I'm not really sure where to apply."

Sarah seemed to know where this was going before you did. She'd been around the last time your dad was begging Joel to find some help for the contracting team they worked with. But surely your dad doesn't expect you to build houses, does he? Your dream job is to dig holes in the ground, not fill them in and put homes on top.

"We got some spaces to fill, you should come work with us 'few months. The pay's good and you don't have to stay on long, probably just till the end of July."

You gave him a look, and he instantly knew you weren't interested, but you figured you'd try and justify your reasoning. It was an argument either way.

Maybe it had been your dad's idea, but he wasn't the one who planted it into his own head. Joel subtly turned to you and cooly uttered a response.

"You could work on interior stuff with me."

Did he just-?

"S'not much more fun than what your dad's been doin,' but at least it's out of the sun, and easier to learn."

You were almost dumbfounded. Your dad offering you a job that potentially could give you heat stroke with your lack of experience seemed like the worst idea in the world... but working on interior projects? With Joel of all people? Well, that didn't sound so bad.

You didn't want your dad to catch on, of course. Being so protestant of his suggestion, but then falling right into it as soon as Joel was the one to offer would be a dead giveaway to some sort of favoritism to his best buddy. It simply wouldn't look right.

"What kinda interior stuff?"

He smirked. The motherfucker was smirking. He knew you'd changed your mind, but couldn't exactly just come out with it. He understood, but it was still slightly amusing to him.

"Flooring, cabinets, countertops... 's things like that," he explained, knowing you really didn't care what all it entailed. He was still happy to play along. "S'not as fun as archeology, but it pays alright."

You nodded, acting as though you were turning the thoughts over in your head.

"Well, if you're sure I won't mess it up, I'd be happy to try it out," was your final response. You figured it left some leeway in case your father became suspicious, but gave a good enough answer to end the conversation on.

"That's my girl," your dad clapped a hand on your shoulder in excitement. Truth be told he would very much enjoy your presence on a work site. "I'll go ahead and call Eddie in the morning, let 'im know I found someone to replace Charlie for interiors."

It was said more to Joel, you figured, because you didn't really know who either of those people were. He'd nodded to your dad, taking a sip of his beer and then looking back to you. You smiled sweetly, nobody catching it but the one it was meant for.

"Game's gonna start soon," Joel spoke aloud, drawing everyone's eye to the clock over the stove.

Sarah cleared her throat before jumping in on the conversation.

"About that," she looked to her dad with the same puppy dog eyes she used to use against you. He was just as poor at saying no to her when she pulled those bad boys out. "Sammy texted me to ask if it's okay to stay over at her place tonight?"

Joel sighed. He knew that no matter the attempts he made for her to like baseball, it wasn't her thing. It was summer vacation, and he had no reason to say no, so he didn't.

"Is she coming to pick you up?" He began, fishing his keys out of his pocket to drive her if need be. The girl lived five minutes away, he'd be back only a few minutes after the game started, but he didn't really want to leave.

"I can ask her," she pulled her phone back out of her jeans, opened her screen, and checked her messages.

"No need, I can take you," your voice rang out, standing from the table and taking your bowl to the sink. It was a genuine offer, but it was also to get out of the house and process what just happened with the job situation.

Joel was the first one to stand up with you.

"You don't have to-"

"It's fine," you cut him off, leaving no room for discussion. It was lucky he liked you, otherwise, Joel Miller might have put up quite the argument for such a small dilemma. As was his way, of course. He huffed, but accepted he had been overruled.

"Thanks, then." It was mumbled, but there was gratitude in it.

"We gotta hop over to ours real quick and grab my stuff," Sarah told you, waiting for you to return from the kitchen before beginning to head out through the front door. You'd grabbed your keys off where they hung on the wall before going behind her.

"I'll be back soon," you called over your shoulder into the house, and got a chirped 'alright' reply from your dad.

You walked out passed your driveway, seeing the light flicker on as you both went passed the censor on the ground.

"Y'know, I didn't think you'd have caved so fast on that job thing." She had piped up once you were almost to her porch. You found it only slightly funny that she chose the exact topic which had been swirling in your mind since it happened.

"Not sure I really wanna do it, but your dad made it sound better than every time my dad's talked about it, guess he just convinced me," you chuckled, playing it off in a way that she absolutely was about to use against you.

"That's another thing," she turned to you as she backed into the house through the door, only turning once she was inside. "Since when are you friends with my dad?"

She said it in a joking tone, but having known a few things she didn't about interactions that occurred between you and her father, you felt constricted to answer seriously. Probably with a lie if need be.

"I've always gotten along with your dad," you gave her a confused look, accompanied after by a playful smile.

She grabbed her backpack and opened it, checking to make sure she'd taken all the school stuff out before starting to shove things in, her charger, headphones, etc.

"Yeah but... you're just all young and cool and stuff," she shrugged, turning around to walk towards the staircase. "My dad is all old and boring and only talks about baseball."

"Thirty-seven isn't old, babe. My dad is two years from fifty, and I don't even think he's old, yet. Boring? Maybe..." you reasoned, hearing her laugh before she sprinted up the stairs, giving you time to think of some answers before she asked any more questions. Had she really caught onto you that fast? You didn't think you'd acted noticeably. If Sarah was able to see it, then maybe your dad did, too. You needed to be more careful, in that case.

Sarah returned a few minutes later, her backpack now stuffed and her pillow under her arm. You nodded out the door and headed back to your driveway to open the door for her, seeing as though her hands were full.

The drive after Sarah had been dropped off felt so much longer. Maybe it was just your thoughts, or maybe you consciously drove slower to avoid getting home too quickly. Your dad was waiting, but above that, Joel was there, too. Probably sitting back on the leather couch, relaxing with his feet kicked out on the floor. He usually leaned onto the armrest with his elbow, and held his face against the hand it supported. You'd noticed it years ago. He only ever spoke up when your dad did, usually in reply to him.

He was content simply watching the game in the presence of a friend. It was endearing.

When you pulled into the driveway, you had come up with an excuse to not remain downstairs for the duration of the game. It was too risky, and you weren't apparently as good with self-control as you'd thought you were.

You went inside and hung up your keys on the hook, immediately passing the living room on the way to the stairs.

"Hey, lovebug, you missed the top of the first," your dad called. He knew you liked baseball, so if you were to lie and say you didn't want to watch, he'd know something was up.

"Y'know, pa, I think I'm just gonna watch it upstairs, I forgot I still got some stuff to unpack," you peaked your head into the room to respond, and saw that Joel, just as you had pictured, was sitting in his most usual position on the couch, feet out on the floor, arm up with a hand holding the side of his face.

"Can't you do it later?" Your dad pleaded, but you knew, seeing as how your father occupied the recliner, you would have no where else to sit but on the floor or next to Joel. You didn't trust yourself with that.

"I could, but I might fall asleep if I wait too long."

He sighed, throwing an arm in your direction and shooing you away. He wasn't annoyed, but he'd admit he missed watching these games with you. It had been like a tradition, but if Sarah wasn't here either, he wasn't gonna make you stick around.

"Sure you don't wanna stick around? We could use your lucky jersey down here," Joel piped up, lifting his face from his hand and giving you a pair of soft eyes. That was exactly the reason you would not be staying. He didn't even realize how much he affected you, but you'd make sure he did at some point. Maybe you could just tease him a little.

"You're right, it would be a shame to take the lucky jersey with me."

You walked behind your dad's chair, out of his sight, and tauntingly stripped the jersey over your head, revealing the tight black tank top beneath it, just like that night at the bar. Joel's jaw clenched and his eyes turned darker, even under the bright light of the flatscreen in the living room. You never took your eyes away from his as you slung him the jersey.

"Hey pa, can I get you anything from the kitchen before I go upstairs?" You leaned over the back of his recliner, looking at him upside down. He chuckled and shook his head, trying to move your hair from obstructing his vision.

"We're all good, lovebug," he spoke in addition to his physical response, his laughter dying down as you stood back up. "Come on down if you change your mind."

"I'll probably be down later," you spewed a half-lie. You weren't sure if you would be or not, especially if Joel was still lurking in the living room.

You gave those brown eyes one last look before heading straight upstairs.

You grabbed your remote and flicked on the TV. It was already on the right channel, so you tossed the remote aside onto your bed and flopped back into it. You didn’t actually have anything left to unpack, but they would never have known.

Your phone buzzed beside you, and you lifted the screen to your face to see a text from an unsaved number:

Missin you down here…

You’d never put Joel in your contacts, because in highschool, your friends thought it was weird to even text or call him regularly, but you had his number for years, always just as a backup. You’d known it by heart, now, and nearly had it memorized back then, too, for the times you needed his help.

I’d come back if there was an open seat.

A bit sassy of a response, maybe, but you were hoping he’d understand the hidden meaning behind it… Although, Joel didn’t usually pick up on those things very easily.

Open seat right next to me

Yeah, that’s why I’m up here…

You huffed, realizing it wouldn’t be that easy. The three little dots indicating his next response was on the way slightly nerved you. Maybe he took the last text you sent the wrong way. You didn’t mean it to sound badly.

What’s that supposed to mean?

Means that I can’t keep my hands to myself.

You quickly rectified the situation, although you might have gone too far. He was taking far too long to answer, now. The little dots that before nerved you would now be your saving grace if it meant he would just fucking respond, already. You dropped the phone on your chest, raising up and down in a scattered rhythm while you wiped your hands over your face. Your phone vibrated over your shirt and you immediately opened it.

I can’t either. Stay up there.

You breathed out a sigh of relief. He was thinking the same things you were, and likely was under more stress for it, given he sat right across from your dad, responding to his comments about the game here and there. Your dad had no idea what was happening right under his nose.

Wasn’t thinking about leavin.

This little back and forth went on, the majority of the game, in fact. It was more-so about the plays then on, because you didn’t have anyone to talk to up here.

Joel thought it a bit funny, your dad would say something oddly specific about one of the players, and then you’d text him right after saying the exact same thing. You’d been a product of watching baseball with your old man for just about ever.

“I’m thinking about gettin’ some tickets over the summer for a game or two. They’re always cheaper in them group packages, you n’ Sarah should come along,” your dad was barely paying any attention to the words he spoke, but they came flowing out anyway, clear and cool. “Could be fun.”

Joel knew that there was only so much group interaction he could handle with you, and you with him. It stands to why you’re upstairs, an he’s down here, fist wrapped tightly around your lucky jersey. All out of your father’s sight, of course.

“It could be. Don’t think Sarah’s much for baseball anymore, though.”

He’d hoped that your dad would drop it. Halfway through his third beer, he hoped the man was a little more than tipsy, and maybe didn’t even mean the words he was saying.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t still tag along,” your dad was definitely still sober enough to keep it up, although the way he spoke became slower. Maybe he was getting sleepy.

“I’ll think about it.”

His response was followed by a hum, then a lull of silence that endured the rest of the game. He sat all the while and thought about his predicament a bit more.

He couldn’t stop thinking about you. It was insane… like you’d leeched yourself to the inner workings of his mind and he wouldn’t be able to pull you off without hurting himself, too. You were just upstairs, and had been texting him. You were within his vicinity, and yet… so unreachable.

He’d wished for you to be down here, or for him to be up there with you. Obviously, that wouldn’t go too well with the man sitting next to him, but he’d be asleep soon. If he could just touch you again, just kiss you one more time, maybe his cravings would be satisfied and he could go about his days… but what would happen if he kept feeling the addictive urge to do more? What if he was never satiated enough to quit you?

The game was called, and you’d texted him a small ‘victory’ at seeing the Rangers had won.

It was wrong, and the presence of his friend beside him was a constant reminder that you were his kid, and he would have a final say. Even though you were an adult, he understood this was completely taboo, and you should be off with guys your own age... but he’s made up his mind about the thoughts spinning in his head.

He didn’t respond, though. Your dad stood up out of his chair, his arms stretching outwards with a loud yawn as he took a few steps forwards, clapping his hand down on Joel’s shoulder.

“I hate to kick you out…” your father joked, a low and tired chuckle under his words.

“It’s alright, I got some stuff to sort out anyway.”

They started making their way towards the door when light but fast footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs.

Joel turned quickly, a smile on his lips and in his eyes when he saw you trying to catch your breath after sprinting down here.

“Leavin’ already?”

They both laughed heartily. As if Joel hadn’t been here almost three hours, most of which you spent upstairs. Your heart was beating far too fast for your liking, but there didn’t seem to be a way to stop it. Now that you were present again, in the room with him, you didn’t know what else to do.

“Your dad’s half asleep as it is, if I stay any longer I’ll send ‘im into hibernation,” Joel’s response made you giggle softly, although you withheld most of the laughter, because in all honestly, it wasn’t that funny, and you needed to learn to control yourself.

“He’ll be over next week, we’ll talk about gettin’ you into that job.”

You nodded, turning back to Joel as your dad opened the front door. What were you supposed to do? You couldn’t hug him, could you? That’s too much… maybe just wave, or maybe-

He held his hand out… for you to shake it. A hand-shake. Yeah, sure, fine.

You shook it, but he pulled you in half way, tapping your back once and then letting go.

He just bro hugged you. This man just-

He turned and did the same to your dad, giving you one last glimpse as he stepped out the door. Your dad closed it behind him and you were almost clean out of words to say. That had to have been the strangest interaction you’ve had.

“I’m beat, love-bug. I’m gonna head to bed,” he slung an arm around your neck and kissed the top of your head before turning and going down the hall to the stairs. “Don’t be up too late.”

“I won’t, just got a few things to do.”

You waited approximately ten more seconds before running to the garage door, going as quickly and as quietly as you could through to your front yard. Joel was still on his porch when you got out there, but was about to go inside.

You ran out to the sidewalk in font of his house and called out to him, all the while still barefoot.

“Hey Miller,” you crossed your arms, watching him turn around and lean in one direction. “Did you just bro-hug me? Or did I imagine that?”

He stepped closer to the edge of the porch, leaning against one of the wooden beams closest to him.

You slowly walked up to him, tilting your head to side as you observed his stance. he looked rather good. Hair tousled, body adorning a black t-shirt and some dark jeans. He was a sight, even in the dark light of the neighborhood.

“I reckon I oughta’ try again?”

"Seems like the fair thing to do."

“You’re takin’ your sweet time, baby,” he irked, grabbing gently under your elbow and pulling you up onto to porch once you were close enough.

You smiled to him, and wrapped your arms round his neck, over his broad shoulders. He pulled you close, tucking a head into your shoulder. The anxiousness you felt before fell apart, the rapid beating of your heart slowed, because you were comfortable. You felt immense peace in his arms like you’ve never felt before.

He backed away too soon, but still kept you relatively close to him.

“Was that better?”

“Yeah, I’d say so.”

There was a moment of silence, of contemplation, but it wasn’t stiff, and it wasn’t awkward. It was just there, a nice and pleasant quiet, and you standing still with Joel Miller on his porch.

“You wanna come inside a while?”

Sarah wasn’t home, and wouldn’t be till morning. Your dad was probably passed out in bed by now, leaving the opportunity completely open. You had nothing to lose, no risk to be had.

“Yeah, I think I will.”

He didn’t let you go, he just walked you both backwards until he was able to reach the door, reaching with one hand to open it before stepping slightly to the side to allow you entrance first.

“Ever the gentlemen,” you smiled, walking inside before he followed you in.

“Gotta make up for all that nonsense earlier,” he closed the door, taking your hand and walking to the kitchen. He pulled out a stool at his counter and let your hand fall to your side as he made his way to the fridge.

He pulled out two beers and uncapped them with the tool hanging on the side of his fridge. You think you remember your dad buying it for his birthday one year. You can remember sitting in this exact seat many times before, actually. Never alone, though. Never just you and Joel, and nobody else near.

He slid you one beer an you smiled at him in thanks, taking a sip.

“Last time you had one of these, I didn’t know if you liked it or not,” he gestured to his own bottle, drinking some and setting it down on the counter.

“I don’t know, I think it’s growing on me.”

He looked straight to you, leaning both hands on the edge of the counter. You leaned forward, mimicking his more stern face of features before he said anything else.

“I didn’t wanna say so with your dad around, but you look awful pretty tonight,” he spoke the compliment smoothly, but he had to drop his head after he said it. Seemed that giving you compliments alone in the night was something of a struggle for him, since he was blushing still even when he looked back to you.

“I seem to be feelin’ a lot prettier as of late whenever I’m around you. Think you’re just good for my self esteem,” you paused, leaning back onto the stool to take a drink of your beer. “That, or it's just nice to be complimented by a handsome guy like yourself.”

He didn’t seem to believe you. His scoff was loud and heard immediately after your compliment returned to him.

“You think I’m handsome?”

He’d always thought he was average. Maybe even slightly below. As he got older, that notion grew until he felt that maybe he was beyond trying for a woman on behalf of his looks. Perhaps there were women from time to time that would agree to a date, but there were none since Sarah’s mom who actually stuck around, not until you… but you were different as far as relationships go, because technically, you shouldn’t even be considering one with him.

“Absolutely, I do. Why wouldn’t I?” You were curious, because he was clearly attractive. Maybe you’d spent too much time around the more traditionally preferred young men in dallas, but something about Joel intrigued you that never did with anyone else. Maybe it was the forbidden aspect of what you two were doing, but before that, it was something else. He was rough and rugged, and good looking in a mature way that the boys your age couldn’t mimic if they tried. Those dark brown eyes with little crows feet at the edges every time he smiled were a dead give away to his age, but it was so appealing somehow.

“Don’t know. Guess I’m just old,” he spoke, trying to hide the insecurities that phrasing brought about. He was too old for you, he shouldn’t be sitting here with you you alone and calling you pretty, and yet…

“Maybe that’s a good thing. Too many boys my age are still very immature these days.” And it was very much true. Too young, too immature, and too stupid to see what’s in front of them and really appreciate it. Older men have a tendency to take care of the things they have, because they know that with time they can lose them.

“That so?”

“Mhm.”

“They don’t even realize what their missin’ out on, do they?”

You shook your head in reply. Nope. Not a single one of the younger guys you’ve dated has treated you with the care you know he could. He’s always treated you with care, before… why would that change now?

“They probably figure there’s a million girls linin’ up after me that they can take a shot at,” you raised your eyebrows and drank some more. Maybe it was just a thought of some past experiences, but this beer was tasting better and better to you.

“I pity them,” he said nonchalantly, without really thinking about it.

“Who, the girls? I mean, I kinda feel bad, but other times, I think we all know what we’re getting ourselves into n’ we just try to ignore the red flags.”

It was meant as a joke, but he was being genuinely serious.

“No, the guys. I pity ‘em.”

“Oh, do you?”

“I do,” he nodded, thinking of the right words to say. “They lost you, didn’t they? Biggest mistake of their lives and they didn’t even know. Pity ‘em just for that.”

You didn’t know what to say. You figured the wide smile you wore was doing a fine enough job, but he wasn’t looking like he had anything else to voice yet.

“You think I’m somethin’ special, Joel Miller?”

He set his bottle down on the counter and walked around it to stand right in front of your barstool. He took both your hands and pulled them to his chest, just holding them there and looking to you with the sweetest expression you’ve ever seen from him. He’s so different than what you remember in your earlier years. He used to be so stoic and serious. Sometimes even a little grumpy. Guess time changes things.

“I wouldn’t be gettin’ myself into sum’ this crazy if I thought anything else,” he mumbled it almost, but he definitely meant it. His words rang true in every aspect of the implications they made. This was crazy, it was very unlikely in the first place, but even still, it was happening. Neither of you backed down, neither of you said no.

“If it helps, I happen to think you’re pretty damn special, too.”

He didn’t respond, just leaned closer towards you, nudging his nose against yours, before letting your lips meet in a kiss. it washed rushed and hazy like the last time. It wasn’t forceful or fast or anything of that sort. It was gentle, and it was meaningful. All the years he’d known you, but never like this. You knew this attraction was new, but it was still real. You wondered how many women pined after him over the years, only for you to now gage his attention when clearly no one else did. The man’s been single since Sarah’s mom left, and otherwise, you didn’t know him to be much of a ‘dating around’ kinda guy. Standing here with him, now, you felt such excitement in knowing he’d pursue you, the off limits woman, over anyone else. It was a true victory, or at least you thought so, sitting on a stool in his kitchen while he kissed you softly, his thumbs going over the backs of your hands that still lingered in his.

When the kiss broke, you inhaled deeply, the scent of him so close to you, surrounding you. He was like a warm blanket you just pulled out of the dryer. He was comforting, and soft, and his skin was currently hot to the touch. You could only hope that you had something to do with that.

“Baby,” he breathed, hands letting go of yours and finding a new home at your waist. You left your hands on his chest, feeling his heart rate fluctuating. “Gotta know something before this goes any further…”

You hummed in response, still trying to even your breath intake. He backed away a few inches to be able to look you in the eyes correctly. He’d spent enough time with you in the past to know if you were telling the truth, and he was going to use it just this once to his advantage.

“What we’re doin’, you sure you’re okay with it?” He knew better than to jump into this without clarification. “Don’t want you feelin’ pressured if you’re not.”

“I want this,” you spoke softly, just loud enough that he could hear. “Promise.”

You had thought you’d been the instigator to this, if memory serves you correctly. Even still, you know now that whatever happens, he won’t take it somewhere you don’t want it to go. This show of good faith was something you could put trust in him over. He’s a good one, you always knew that.

And again his lips were on yours, differently this time. It was a bit more hasty and fervent like the first time, but there was still something different from then that you couldn’t quite decipher.

You absent-mindedly opened your legs and he instantly came between them, letting your bodies become flush with one another. His hands ran up and down your sides, every once and a while dipping to your hips and somewhere below on your thighs.

There was a heat between them that you didn’t realize was there until he came so close to touching it. He never actually did, though, and you were both endeared by and upset about it. He was the one making that heat spread, he can’t just leave it there… but he’s testing his limits, and you think it’s respectful that he is.

He doesn’t want to cross any lines… as if this entire entanglement has not already done that. This situation in every sense of the definition, has crossed the line. Him hugging you that tightly on his porch, him inviting you in after dark when it’s only you and him alone, having a beer with some very personal conversation, and now making out with you in his kitchen. They all crossed the line of what should happen between a man and his best friend’s daughter.

“Tell me to stop,” he mumbled against your mouth, almost as if reading your mind. His hand on your thigh drifted between your legs, just barely caressing the heated pool sitting there, waiting for him. It was still very reserved, and you had to buck against his hand for more friction, but at least it was something.

The taste of him somehow made it worse, the feeling growing inside you without an end in sight. The arousal was evident, but you weren’t sure he would be able to do anything about it, yet. You could tell it was weighing on his mind, what was okay for him to do, and what wasn’t. You would beg him if you had to, you just needed more.

He had an idea, one that could allow both of you to explore this dynamic easier, and one that could potentially keep him from overstepping like he was afraid to.

He removed his hands only for a minute, bringing yours up and over his shoulders before he settled his back down below your ass.

“Hold on,” he told you, lifting you from the seat and walking until he got to the living room. From there, he let the space guide him until the back of his knees hit the edge of the couch. He sat almost abruptly, and when you relaxed your weight onto him, you felt the stirring between his legs as well. You moaned into his mouth at the mere size and feeling of it, beginning to slowly grind down onto him. He encouraged your movements, and used his hands to guide your hips as you went, back and forth, getting into a rhythm.

“That’s it, baby,” he praised, tearing himself away for a moment to expel his breath from his lungs at the new feeling. Your head fell against his, and suddenly it was the movement of your lower half taking you over.

He let his hands move over your body a bit more freely, now, but still careful not to make any harsh movements, or grab in places he felt he shouldn’t linger too long. He knew you wanted this, but something inside him questioned how comfortable you really felt… that was until you started doing the same, roaming his body with your delicate touch, making him feel like the most important man in the world. You could have sworn you marked the exact moment he snapped, rolling his hips upwards into yours shamelessly. It was so deliciously addicting, the feeling of his body pleasing yours, and vice versa. His rough and sturdy hands, though still gentle, ravished any part of you available to him.

The air between you was hot and thick, and you could swear that by breathing it in, you were drawing even more arousal into your body.

The motions kept going until there was a quickening of pace brought on by you both simultaneously. You couldn’t mark a distinction of when it increased, you just knew that the speed you were going wasn’t where you started. All you could think of was that your spend was fast approaching, and you wondered if his was, too.

“Gettin’ close,” you murmured, barely able to get the words out for the moans that slipped passed your lips. “M’gonna…”

He heard you, and understood. Truth be told, he’d started getting hard since that moment on the porch, so this was just nothing but sweet relief to him. He kept on, trying to meet you at your finish.

“Let go , baby.”

You had no qualms about being told twice when it came to him. You gave it up easily, the muscles in your body contracting when you felt the wash of utter ease through every inch of you. He tensed beneath you, but relaxed with a groan of relief right after, and you could feel his length twitch in his jeans.

You just dry-humped Joel Miller on his couch. Like a horny teenager. What the fuck.

The dawn of realization was cut short by his hand softly coercing the back of your neck, bring your lips back for him to claim as he did earlier. Soft, and gentle, no rush, no heat. Just that feeling between you both that started this mess.… and it was indeed a mess.

“You wanna stay over?”

Tags (open):

@justanothersadperson93 @moonchild-warrior @hopplessilse @brittmd115 @michilandcof @untamedheart81 @just-someone-broken @joelalorian @xybil @yvonneeeee

If i tagged you wrong, or you want to be taken off at any time, just lmk!!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel the last of us #dbf!joel miller x reader #dbf! joel miller #joel miller age gap #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal

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riality-check · 1 year

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steddie prompt! steve struggling with his dyslexia and feeling like he isnt smart enough compared to eddie and the kids?

In an effort to, in his words, "convert him to the light side," Dustin had given Steve an armful of what he deemed "essential reading" and sent him away to "learn the ways of the Force."

If Steve didn't like Star Wars so much, he would've made fun of that little nerd.

But, honestly, he's a little grateful. With no more monsters to slay and it being way too cold to venture outside of his house to go swim or play basketball, the books fill up a good chunk of time.

Too good a chunk.

It's taking him way too long to get through them.

He didn't try The Hobbit or Lord of the Rings because those looked way too intimidating. Dune's first twenty pages were boring as shit, and Ender's Game was a lot, to say the least.

So, he's been making his way through A Wrinkle in Time.

Slowly making his way through it. Too slowly.

Steve has been quickly reminded about why he hasn't voluntarily read a book since elementary school, and why he stopped reading the required books in high school.

It's hard. Reading sucks.

He doesn't know how other people get through it when the letters don't make sense and seem to switch, like how "b" and "d" or "f" and "t" look way too similar.

"Whatcha readin'?"

Steve looks up from the book - god, it's probably taken him at least an hour to get through chapter one, hasn't it - to find Eddie in the doorway of the living room.

Guess he's taking advantage of the spare key, Steve thinks to himself, but he's not mad about it, not even a little.

"A Wrinkle in Time," he says, holding up the book so Eddie can see the cover.

Eddie lights up. "Oh, I love that book! I think the last time I read it, I was in, shit, maybe fourth grade?"

Steve knows he didn't mean it, but damn. That hurt a little bit.

He can't even get through a book Eddie read when he was in elementary school?

"What part are you at?"

Steve tucks the book against his chest so Eddie doesn't see how the bookmark isn't very far in. "Not very. Just met Mrs. Which. It's kind of hard to get through-"

"Oh, yeah," Eddie nods. "It took me, like, three days."

"- because the letters keep switching."

Eddie frowns. "What?"

"The letters," Steve says. "Like, they're moving a lot for this book. I don't know why."

Eddie looks at him blankly.

Oh.

"Does that... not happen for you?"

Eddie shakes his head.

Steve huffs out a laugh because of course this would be a uniquely him problem. Of course people like Dustin and Eddie and the rest of the party would like reading, because of course they would be able to do it right.

"I guess I really am stupid."

"It took me three tries to get through my senior year," Eddie says seriously, putting his hand on Steve's shoulder. "Does that make me stupid?"

"No," Steve says instantly. It doesn't. Just because Eddie wasn't good at school doesn't mean he isn't smart. He's a brilliant storyteller and musician, and both of those take brains.

Steve doesn't have a hobby that takes brains because he just... doesn't have enough. Plain and simple. That's how it's always been.

"Ok, then you're not stupid for having trouble reading," Eddie says like it's the simplest thing in the world.

"But-"

"But what? We're all gonna struggle with something. For me, it was school. For you, it's reading. It's why we've got other people to fill in the gaps."

Other people don't fill in the gaps. Steve does. Steve stretches himself thin, makes sure he's everywhere at once to make sure the kids and Robin and Eddie are okay.

No one else can do that because. Well.

Steve has to be irreplaceable somehow. He's gotta be necessary somehow.

This is the only way they need him.

"Get out of your head, martyr," Eddie says, reading his mind. He's not as good at that as Robin is - Steve doesn't think anyone will ever be able to read him like Robin can - but he can still do it.

It's weird, just like Eddie is. Steve's learned to love weird over the past few years.

"Do you want me to stick around?" Eddie asks.

"You can stay, if you want," Steve says.

"I always want to stay with you," Eddie says, and damn if that sentence doesn't take Steve's breath away. "But I figured I'd ask."

So, Eddie lays his head in Steve's lap as Steve dives back into a world of tesseracts and space and time, and when Steve tilts the book down and points to a word that just isn't making sense, Eddie reads it for him.

He doesn't comment on how often he hears the pages flip.

#sorry this sat in my inbox for SO LONG #but i hope you like it anon!!#this was really fun!!#anon #asked and answered #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #stranger things ficlet #stranger things #tw internalized ableism #ria writes #dyslexic steve harrington

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yikimiki · 1 year

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Bbbbbrrrrrr ok how about some toxic relationship headcanons (mayhaps w make up sex?) forr Sukuna, Toji, Geto, Megumi if you accept multiples otherwise I'm be happy w/ whichever you'd rather write for !

Since it’s four characters I’ll write one big headcanon for each ♥️

⚠️ warnings: toxic/abusive relationships, smut, dark content, gaslighting, mentions of violence (not directed at reader), fem!reader, crying, make-up sex, possessive/jealous behavior

💕 toji: the absent gaps of your relationship makes you more anxious than you’d care to admit. Toji is there one day, showering you with love, with the most amazing sex, and then he’s gone for the next couple of months like you were nothing but a good time. You only know he’s alive when he shows up again at your door, dirty and needy, and takes your body like it’s his second nature — he always takes and takes, but never gives. He uses your house, eats your food, shatters your heart and leaves without an explanation. Toji fucks you deep, possessively, with the tone of a man who is used to violence, and you can do nothing but allow him to take it. “You’re all mine, pretty girl,” he mumbles one night, and you’re not sure you believe it. You ask him to stay, like you always do, but he ignores it — like he always does. “If I ever see you with someone else… fuck, I’ll kill him on the spot. You’re all fucking mine.”

💕sukuna: like the certainty that the sun will rise again tomorrow, he’s sure that you’re going to be his forever — so for you to dare (try) to break up with him… well, that just goes against everything he has planned. All the years by your side gone, crumbling to dust, because you think you know better than he does. Sukuna makes sure you’re going to remember this, that you’re not going to try anything funny again because: “You’re fucking mine forever, you understand? You’re the air that I fucking breathe,” He says, groaning as you clamp around him, tears staining your eyelashes. You’re broken down underneath him, whining and apologizing, but he doesn’t care. You have to learn. “Don’t you ever leave me again, baby, because I’m not letting you get away. Ever.”

💕getou: there’s a bloody, metallic taste on your mouth as he kisses you when he gets home, and you never ask why. You know Getou gets into fights sometimes, and he tells you they’re all because of you. He tells you that he hates the guys at your work, hates that you talk to other men — because he’s everything you’ll ever need — and hates that you flirt (yes, flirt) with them. Like they’d ever have a chance with you. Getou always says that you’re too slutty, even if you cover up, even if you promise you won’t talk to anyone else. Then he says you’re just pretty and stupid, that you don’t know what you do to people. “But I’ll protect you forever, princess,” he says, and you know from the blood on his face that he’s serious about it. “Just never forget who you belong to.”

💕 megumi: he’s quiet and direct with you, and that is a double-edged blade when it comes to Megumi. Sometimes, it’s good to know what he’s thinking, no secrets between you two, but then you step out of line and Megumi makes sure that you remember his words forever. “You know you’re going to be alone without me, right? No one is going to deal with your whiny, dramatic behavior like I do.” He speaks calmly like the wind, but it hurts, it hurts so bad that you cry and ask him to leave you alone. You don’t even know what you did wrong, but he doesn’t care to answer. “Quit it. I’m just being honest, not my fault you’re so annoying. Come here.” And you do. You always fall into his arms, into his bed, because it’s the only place of comfort that he allows you to have.

#jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu megumi #Megumi #Toji #getou #sukuna #sukuna smut #Megumi x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen #Toji smut #getou smut #angst #jjk angst #x reader #x you

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idksmtms · 4 months

Text

You Are Not One of Us (Poseidon x Norse Goddess!reader) - Part 1

Full Request

AN: OMGGGG my first request! And it’s an absolute banger too??? I feel like a queen, I truly do.

I know the original request was more about Marvel-based Norse mythology but I’m not a Marvel fan so I went with original Norse mythology! Hope that’s ok!

-Also yes, this is a place where we pretend the Hades-Persephone myth isn’t as messed up as it actually is and is a sweet love story instead, fuck off-

-I know Hestia is supposed to be a virgin goddess and never marry but like… I’m thinking of a cute hearth goddess and how she could love Hephaestus and I want that for them-

Final PS. that corner pic of Toby Stephens doesn't fit the rest of the aesthetic, I know, but I saw it while searching and it had me quivering so I had to add it.

Summary: Zeus and Odin have brought peace to the worlds of the gods. With peace comes love. But all is NOT fair in love and war.

Word count: 6,187

Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, age gap (even tho they both thousands of years old), god racism?? Idk they act like “foreigner gods” is a bad thing, lusting, liking the fact that he looks older (is this a warning???), (please let me know if I missed any)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians characters. I do not claim to own any of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so.

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

It was the dawn of a new era when Kronos was thrown to Tartarus. His evil had touched more than just the world of the Greek gods, sending ripples through the very world of mythology itself. Though the worlds of the Norse and the Grecians were thousands of miles away, their gods had often met on the battlefields. A multitude of stories, now lost to time, told of the wars of snow and sand, told of the loves made and broken between viking idols and spartan gods. But upon the ‘death’ of Kronos, the new king of the gods found himself in a forgiving mood. Odin too, having given up so much for wisdom, realised the best way forward was to have peace in all aspects under his control, once and for all.

The two gods met deep in a forest exactly halfway between what is now Greece and Norway, a forest that eventually became the town of Vlasim in the Czech Republic. No one other than the two kings knows what was said in order for the peace pact to be made, but they left with promises of order, friendship, and an invitation for the Asgardians to visit the stronghold that is Mount Olympus.

When Zeus returned with this news, they all rejoiced and began ensuring Mount Olympus looked better than it ever had before. After all, they still needed to outshine these other supposed “gods”. Hera took charge of ensuring the entire place glowed, already beginning to argue with Demeter on how the flowers would look best. Aphrodite was already picking out her best dresses and sprucing up her hair, Artemis and Apollo hopping off to go hunting for some creature that would show their true prowess to the Asgardians (secretly hoping they would make it back in time). Dionysus was left in charge of the entertainment, though he was quickly focused only on providing wine for the entire table, and Hephaestus and Hestia found comfort in quiet corners of the room, watching all the chaos unfold. Hades had been unbothered, promising he would show up with Persephone when the Asgardians arrived and nothing more before disappearing in a puff of smoke back to the underworld and no doubt the loving arms of his wife. Poseidon was… well he didn’t know how he felt. If he was honest, he was beginning to feel old. Life as a god wasn’t all it was cut out to be, and it had been dragging a bit recently. His millennia of existence were beginning to catch up to him and he wasn’t sure how to jumpstart his enjoyment again. He had even taken to wearing an older form recently, a man still in his prime, but one with the wisdom of a thousand years subtly showing itself in the lines around his eyes and mouth. A man still corded in muscle but with the stockiness, width, and strength of one who had had one hundred lifetimes to hone it. This seemed like exactly the kind of thing he needed to reintroduce excitement to his life. Though Zeus had not included him in the peace talks, he was happy to be part of the governing that came after, to help maintain the peace between the gods. For once he felt he could happily commend his brother for a job well done.

And he was excited to meet these new gods, apprehensive too of course, but… excited. It would be a good opportunity to measure themselves up to the others in their world, to truly decide if they were as invincible as they believed they were. Poseidon believed it was important for the gods to have a wake-up call every now and again to their fragility, and he was sure this would be one of them.

Across the world, in the realm of Asgard and the halls of Valhalla, ale was poured and songs were sung as the gods rejoiced. Odin sat on his throne high above the others as some danced, some fought, some feasted, and some passed out from too much of everything too soon. Odin watched over them all with one of his rare smiles, a hand resting atop the one Frigg had placed on the arm of his throne. Even Loki, occasional friend, occasional enemy, had joined for this celebration. He was proud of what he had achieved, of the worthy sacrifices he had made, to not only bring him eternal wisdom, but to bring peace between two races of gods. Odin turned to Frigg, leaning down to kiss her cheek. She blushed, turning to him and pressing one on his cheek in return.

“Everything is well?” She asked, caressing his cheek just under the eye he had given up.

“Perfect,” he sighed, then looked back out to the dancefloor where his children now pranced jokingly.

Thor laughed heartily as he began to chug from his mug, froth spilling over the sides of his cheeks as his friends clapped and cheered. Loki even smiled, though he was more caught up in trying to continue his conversation with the little goddess sandwiched between her brother and him. Odin’s youngest child, the newest addition to Asgard, giggled at her brother’s antics and the clever commentary the god of mischief whispered in her ear. She was still young by the standards of the gods, having only seen a thousand sun cycles, and she was treated as such, cherished by all who looked upon the daughter of Odin, the goddess of love, so loved in fact, that Odin had chosen to bestow his own title of god of war onto her. The goddess of love, and war, Y/n Odinsdottir.

You were excited for this trip to Mount Olympus. You had been aware of the Greek gods since your birth but you had not had the opportunity of meeting them in battle. Being only a thousand years old meant you had been coddled for five hundred of them, and though you had been given the title of goddess of war, you still felt you had to earn it. Balancing the powers of love and war was a struggle you were still learning. You had spent the last five hundred years trying to choose the right warriors to bestow your blessing upon, the right vikings to give the power of love (the second being especially difficult as you had only felt familial love thus far). This would be an opportunity to learn from these other gods, to not only enjoy a new era of peace but to build on your own skills.

Odin, Frigg, and Thor enjoyed your excitement, watching with smiles as you pranced about in different dresses wondering which would be the best to wear, brushing out your hair and carefully pinning the dark blue tresses into an updo. Though you often changed the way you looked (shapeshifting came with the job of being a love goddess for all mythologies it seemed), you never changed the blue hair. You had quickly grown fond of it, and the natural movement of hair in that colour reminded you of waves on the ocean, a particular favourite spot of yours. Even past the blue hair, you often wore blue dresses in varying shades, simply because you had come to love the ocean, and thus the colour blue. The other gods often remarked that love was not black nor white, rather it was blue.

On the eve of the grand meeting of the gods, you had sat beside Loki in a stone alcove high above the feast hall of Valhalla, watching the slain heroes rejoice for another evening. Though it was in Loki’s nature to be a trickster, you had come to enjoy his company and often seeked him out when you were bored or nervous. He knew the history of the gods almost as well as Odin, and you enjoyed the way he told his stories with exaggerated voices and dancing movements. You loved learning about all that had happened before you, all the battles the gods had fought, the relationships they had made, long before you were even a thought in Odin’s head. On a night like this, when you had too much energy to just while away the hours, you found Loki and begged him to tell you a story. You were still young, and possibly your power as a love goddess had an influence too, but he found he could never quite say no to you.

“Alright, little goddess, settle in, for tonight I tell you a story of love and perilous heartbreak, a story that involves lovers who should never have met, lovers who had no business being together, and who fate punished for it,” Loki began, eyes sparkling as he gazed deep into your own. You shivered and nodded, excitement and just a hint of fear tickling your spine. You sat back against the stone wall and brought your knees to your chest, resting your chin on top of them and waiting for Loki to begin again.

“So many years ago that neither you nor I were even a thought in the dust, one of the aesir fell in love with a goddess of another land. Though their names and abilities are lost now, we know that the aesir was one of our strongest, almost indestructible. The goddess was special in her own right, among her own people, and these two great clans warred for many centuries. Years and years were spent slaughtering each other’s families, using human battles as their own, bleeding each other dry until there was barely anything left to call them gods.

During one such battle, this aesir had broken through the front lines of the opponents, but was stopped dead in his tracks when he laid eyes upon a beautiful goddess helping to heal what she could. He was enamoured by her, so enamoured that for the first time in any battle he was nicked by an arrow.” Loki paused, seeing the way your eyes widened and began to get teary, and he smiled gently. “Do not worry little goddess, it was only a small cut, and he was able to heal, but the true wound was in his heart. He wanted to find this goddess, to be near her, to love her, and yet every day he had to fight her people, without fail.

One day, he decided to stay back while the others fought, and he snuck over to the other side to try and find his goddess. He disguised himself as a butterfly and fluttered around their camp looking for her. Again, when he found her he was struck dumb by her beauty, and instantly changed into his true form in front of her. She was terrified, and she almost began to yell for help, but he begged her not to. He promised her his life, his very essence as a god, if only she would give him a chance to show her how much he had come to love her. Of course she was apprehensive at first, he was the enemy after all, but she allowed him this.

The aesir took his knife, cut his palm, and dripped his blood onto the ground. With the first drop, he created a new flower and named it Linnea, for her. With the second, he created a flurry of butterflies that would follow after her wherever she would go, do whatever she wished of them. And with the third, he created a thin gold thread. He took one end of the thread and tied it around his wrist before offering the other to her. He said that if she took it, he would bind himself to her, soul to soul. That if she loved him back, they may be separated, but the gold thread would tie them together forever and wherever they may be, they could always follow it back to one another. The goddess, won over by his utter devotion, accepted his offering and promised to love him back until the end of her days.

Each night they separated to their own camps, connected only by the gold thread, and each day while the battles and the war raged on, they would sneak away to far off places to be together and live in a happiness their people couldn’t seem to find. But all was not well for the lovers, for the Norns had spun their threads and knew that the price of their love was one no god could ever pay. And so, one day when the lovers snuck off, a god from this other clan who had been promised this goddess’s hand in marriage decided to follow. He saw this ultimate betrayal and sounded the alarm. Both lovers were dragged back to their camps in shackles, the aesir and the other gods unsure of how to punish them.

The eldest of the aesir knew what must be done. The lovers could never be together, it was simply impossible, and he spoke with the leader of this other clan in a moment of truce. They were both in agreement, and the elder was sent off to complete this task. He ventured to Yggdrasil and found Urðr, Verðandi, and Skuld. He had Verðandi remove any memory or thought of the goddess from the aesir’s mind. He had Urðr remove any trace of the goddess from the aesir’s fate. And he had Skuld remove any future with the goddess.

When this was done, the elder returned to the camp and found the god to see if the Norns had worked true. He had no memory of the goddess, and seemed returned as he was to the aesir. On the other side, the same had happened to the goddess with her own fates, any trace of the god removed from her thoughts, memories, fate and future. Everyone thought all was well and normalcy had returned, but both god and goddess felt the eternal tug of a gold thread wrapped around their wrist that no one but them could see. Both attempted to follow it but it seemed to never have an end. They would stand in front of each other, and look straight through the other, never able to see one another again. Forever they were cursed to wonder why they were pulled toward something they could not see, something they would never be able to find.” Loki finished with a sigh, looking at you as you sat curled up against the wall opposite him. You were frowning, tears collected at the corners of your eyes and lip trembling.

“I didn’t like that story,” you mumbled, shaking your head and wiping at your eyes. “What was so wrong with them loving each other?”

“Little goddess, we are terrified of the things we don’t understand. We don’t understand love, we don’t understand why it evades us but not those we hate. We don’t understand why it makes us love those we do not want to love.” Loki began to stand, brushing off his legs and shirt with a shrug.

“Then… then none of you understand me. You are all terrified of me. I am the goddess of love, am I not?” You asked, looking up at him with fearful eyes. But Loki just smiled and patted your head.

“You help us understand love, little goddess. That is why we need you, because without you, we would all be even more lost. Imagine that,” he smirked and chuckled, then walked away, mumbling something about readying for the journey to Olympus.

When the Norse gods began to arrive on Olympus, the Vanir entering first, the gathered horde of Greek gods and goddesses and spirits began to mumble and talk among themselves as they judged the foreigners that now walked among them. The Grecians felt their dressing was superior, their peplos were so white that they would burn the eyes of a human. The gold edging was pure and shined as if it was freshly polished and not thread. The purple cloaks they all donned would bankrupt every village in the human world just to get enough dye to make it look that bright. They were… amused? Intrigued? Maybe even disgusted by the fashion of their guests. They all wore varying shades of red. They had either thin linen garments with animal furs draped across their shoulders and arms, or donned thick tunics of sheepskin and wool pants with leather belts decorated with axes and swords. Both groups were… apprehensive to mingle.

Zeus and Hera sat on their thrones and looked down on their guests, nodding greetings as they watched for Odin and Frigg. Poseidon and Hades sat on their own thrones to the side of their brother. Hades was turned to the side and conversing solely with Persephone who stood just behind his throne, leaning onto it and smiling down at her husband. Poseidon just sat back and watched the gods enter the grand hall, resting his chin on his hand and trying not to yawn with boredom.

The entrance of Odin and Frigg could not be missed. As they crossed the bridge into Mount Olympus, they were surrounded by the Aesir. Odin held Frigg’s hand, both dressed in traditional Viking fashion. Frigg wore a modest woollen strap dress in a shade of red so deep it looked like she had bathed in blood. Her grey eyes were smudged with black on the lids and her hair was braided on both sides and tied back, resting on a black fur stole draped over her shoulders. Odin was dressed completely in black, from his eyepatch to his tunic and sheepskin pants. But his cloak was of the pure white fur of a bear, the edges dragging on the ground behind him.

Thor followed behind his father, dressed as a common viking, but with Mjolnir dangling from his wrist, shiny and almost glowing. Baldr walked beside him, a simple white tunic and black pants comprising his outfit. But it was his hair that was the talk of the audience, so pale and white that it seemed to glow itself. He was a handsome creature, youthful and majestic, with a muscular body and a gentle smile. The muses began to giggle as they watched him walk past.

It was after Thor and Baldr had separated to stand beside their father and mother, that little gasps and whispers began to pervade the air. Behind them had walked Odin’s youngest child, wearing a dress of blue that draped over your body like water. It looked like it had been made of the thinnest netting all gathered and crushed together then draped over your body in the fashion of the Greeks. The fabric was so light near the top that it looked like the very froth of a wave, and darkened as it flared out behind you, the hem almost as black as the deepest trenches of the sea. Like your mother and father, you had draped a fur over your shoulders, hoping to appease your people. You had wanted to blend in with the Greeks, had wanted them to feel respected (you were entering their home after all) but you still wanted to look like a viking.

The Aesir walked forward as Zeus stood from his throne, followed slowly by his brothers and Hera. He smiled at the approaching group, waiting until they were just in front of the thrones before speaking.

“Welcome, all, to Mount Olympus,” his voice boomed, and a small flutter of claps sounded from around the crowd. “Thank you for joining us, and for ensuring peace between our peoples for the rest of our eternity,” he smiled, and Odin bowed his head in thanks, letting go of Frigg’s hand to hold both of his own in front of himself. “Please, converse, rest, enjoy the sights of Olympus and partake in the refreshments,” Zeus gestured his arms to the tables of ambrosia that stretched so far that even the gods lost sight of their ends. With that, he sat back on his throne, and waited for Odin and Frigg to approach.

Hades took the opportunity to grab Persephone’s hand and try to slink off but the goddess just chided him and forced him to sit back in his throne as she went to see her mother. Hel chose this moment to approach him and the two began a stilted conversation about their individual worlds of death. Hephaestus and Hestia, who had taken up to joining together in situations of unfamiliarity, sat together in the corner, whispering among themselves. Apollo found company in Bragi, though both instantly began speaking in verse to try and prove who was the better poet.

Artemis, Ares, and Athena had crowded Thor and Tyr and were all in different positions of trying to look dangerous, unamused, and intrigued at the same time. Aphrodite had pounced on Baldr, but found competition in the muses who had already made their way to surround him, and soon found herself flirting with Freyr. Hermes and Loki too had found delightful conversation with one another, full of ideas of thievery and trickery.

And Poseidon was… enamoured. Since the moment he had laid eyes on you he had not taken them away. He had slowly sat back down in his chair, worried that if he stayed standing his knees may give out. You made a god weak. You were beautiful, ethereal, magical, beyond anything even the gods could think to conjure. And your dress… oh that dress, had you chosen it for him? Had you arrived with a mind to capture his very essence? Because it started with that dress. You looked the very soul of water, the very thing that made a world impossible without it. Your hair, your luscious hair, so blue that it reminded him of his palace, of the places deepest in the sea where he felt truly at peace. And the small smile on your face as you meandered between the different groups of gods conversing, slightly shy of your place, but not unhappy. It was the smile of a fresh pearl, one that shined under even the dimmest of lights.

Poseidon watched you walk about, not entering any conversation but not shying away from listening to the others speak. Your pretty face never once dipped into a frown, and he felt like he would never truly catch his breath if he could see you in his line of vision. It took every bit of his godly power to force his eyes away, and he was both angered and thankful when some god (who seemed to be the only one who looked as old as he probably was) walked up to his throne and began conversing about fish.

You were so happy that Njord had listened to your little prompt to go speak to the god of the seas, because it meant he finally pulled his eyes away from you, and you could begin to watch him in return. He had been the first of the thrones you had looked at, and the only one you truly cared about now. His eyes were such a dark blue that they reminded you of the ocean, of your favourite place in the ocean in fact, and they seemed so… knowing, as if one look at another told him everything he needed to know about them. His form was majestic, stoic and strong, with broad shoulders and thick arms that made you desire something you had never desired before. You wanted him to hold you. You wanted him to wrap those arms around you, to run your fingers over those arms. Were you bewitched? Were you cursed? Even his hair made you feel desire, those beautiful locks of hair that resembled celestial bronze, neat yet still unrestrained with a particularly unruly strand falling onto his forehead. You wanted to run your fingers through that hair, to feel if it was truly as soft as you imagined, to press your nose into it and inhale the slightly salty scent that surely clung to him, that you had come to love as much as the sight of the ocean itself. You wanted to feel his beard on your cheeks, under your palms, to know if the white hairs that threaded through it were any coarser than the others, to know what it felt like to have a man’s face in the palms of your hands. Your entire being felt as if it was on fire, and the more you stared at him, at the slight signs of age that showed themselves in the lines by his eyes and mouth, the more you felt it burn inside you.

Someone cleared their throat to your right and you gasped, whirling on them as a blush branded itself on your cheeks, as if your body wanted to betray your thoughts. You smiled, hoping to cover up whatever embarrassment may have shown on your face, and gazed at the god before you. He was about your height, if not a little taller, with a grin that reminded you of Loki’s. His hair was black and combed back smoothly in a rather regal fashion. His eyes were black too, you noticed, so black that you couldn’t differentiate the pupil from the iris. You smiled brightly at him, bowing your head in greeting when you noticed the little wings that protruded from his shoes.

“My goodness! Your shoes!” You exclaimed, gasping and pointing at them with a delighted little laugh.

“Yes,” he laughed along, “they help me travel quickly when I am tired, though they do often have a mind of their own,” he joked, and you laughed loudly. He had a sweet voice, one that would sound happy even when he was sad. “I am Hermes, son of Zeus, what is your name?” His eyes were sparkling and you found you enjoyed it.

“I am Y/n of the Aesir, goddess of love and war,” you introduced yourself, holding out your hand to him. Hermes held it as if it were a precious gift and pressed his lips to your knuckles. You had never felt so regal.

“Ah, yes, Odin’s youngest, I have heard of your prowess on the battlefield.” Hermes was surely a charmer, you thought, and you smiled brightly, a tinge of pink to your cheeks.

“You flatter me, I am still unproven as a goddess of war, though I suppose I do plan a strategy well,” you smiled cheekily, shrugging nonchalantly and holding your hands behind your back as you swayed girlishly.

If there was one thing you were proud of, it was your ability to fight. It was the reason your father had given you this title, your cunning ability to break down your opponents in all sorts of ways, to plan out a fight before it had even begun. Simply put, you were good at it, you could defeat Tyr with ease now, and even Thor had become no challenge. While you still struggled with the love side of your godly abilities and duties, you could always rely on your fighting.

“What about you, Hermes? What are you the god of?” You asked, tilting your head in question.

“Many things, trade, luck, travel, and thieves,” he answered breezily, though his smile betrayed his pride. “I am the herald of our pantheon, the messenger of the gods.”

“Well you are very important then, for where would we be without our messengers?” You told him sweetly, and all he could do was nod. His chest filled with warmth and he knew he had to be careful or the affection that now bubbled inside of him would erupt from his mouth.

“You are wise as you are sweet,” he simply replied, and you just smiled brightly before turning to face the group and stepping slightly closer to his side.

“You remind me of Loki, though he is not a brother, I see him as such,” you told him, and a small pang hit him in the stomach. You had already passed him off as a brother it seemed. But Hermes just shook his head to himself and smiled at you again, leading you toward a display of flowers just to the side that was one of Demeter’s favoured experimental projects. He was tenacious, if nothing else, and he would eventually get you to enjoy his company as something more.

Poseidon had ended up enjoying his conversation with Njord (who was surprisingly intelligent and rather engaging when conversing about fish) but when the god had left him he instantly began to look around for you. Any good mood was squashed when he saw you walking off arm in arm with Hermes, and a thunderous look settled across his face. Somewhere on earth a storm began to brew. Luckily, you didn’t walk far, and he was able to watch over you from his throne, though his mood had already soured, and continued to sour the longer you stayed attached to Hermes’ arm.

Hades, who had finally rid himself of Hel’s company, Hestia and Hephaestus from their corner, and even Dionysus from his seat at the ambrosia table with a jug of wine bigger than his head watched Poseidon. He was acting rather odd, and they could all now see why. His eyes had not left the girl-goddess since she had arrived, and he was miserably failing if he was attempting to be subtle. They had noticed the goddess watching him in return, the pink tint on her cheeks and the sparkle in her eye, and a teasing giggle seemed to build in all those watching. How poignant for Poseidon to fall for the goddess dressed like the sea. Hades stood from his throne and made his way to his brother, sitting on the arm of his throne and smirking at him.

“I will admit, brother, that she is beautiful,” he told Poseidon quietly. The god of the sea snapped his head to his brother, and scowled.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” he answered simply, but Hades just laughed, patting Poseidon on the shoulder.

“Oh brother, you truly do not understand the art of subtlety, do you?” Hades raised an eyebrow and Poseidon stared at him bewildered. “You have watched that one since she arrived and done nothing but that. And goodness, the way you watch her! Have you never seen a woman?” Poseidon shrugged his brother’s hand off of his shoulders and had the decency to look slightly sheepish. He had assumed no one would notice. Hades noted the slight shame in his brother’s expression and sighed, smiling gently.

“Do not worry, I will tell no one, though I may not have anything to tell as she does seem to be enjoying Hermes’ company,” he added teasingly, and Poseidon growled at his brother’s back.

He was distracted by a commotion that had arisen near where Hermes and the goddess had stood. Now a group had gathered around them, fluttering with whispers, and he was too curious not to know what was going on. He walked swiftly from the throne, standing just behind some of the minor gods in the group and peering over their heads.

“So you are a goddess of war, your brother has said?” Ares asked, hands on his hips as he stared down at you. You smiled up at him, nodding your head.

“The goddess of war and love,” you told him. Athena and Aphrodite, both stood just behind Ares with their arms crossed over their chests scoffed.

“A goddess of war and love? Must not be good at either,” Aphrodite murmured, voice snarky and loud enough to be heard by everyone. Athena smirked, hiding a chuckle behind her hand. You frowned at this, looking toward the two goddesses, but Ares just moved so you would be forced to continue staring at him.

“She is a guest, do not be rude,” Hermes spat, but Ares and Aphrodite just waved their hands in twin moves of dismissal.

“I am the god of war, she is the goddess of love, we have the right to ask questions of a guest who resembles us so closely,” Ares smirked at Hermes, but he was quick to return his gaze to you. His eyes were like fire, hungry and angry, ready to burn whatever he looked at.

“So, what exactly do you do? Do you make enemies fall in love and end wars?” Aphrodite snarked, tilting her head and staring at you like you were just something annoying that had flown into her path.

Poseidon wanted to intervene. He was desperate to come to your defence, to have the waters flood Olympus and drown each of them until they were nothing but salt in the sea. But before he could step forward to your aid, he saw the subtle changes in you. He saw the way your eyes hardened, any trace of the happiness and gentleness with which you had treated everyone thus far disappearing. He saw your back straighten just a tad more, your shoulders pushing back and your balance shifting just slightly forward onto the balls of your feet. You clenched your teeth together for a moment before relaxing your jaw and looking up at Ares.

“Would you like to fight me?” You asked simply, folding your hands in front of you. Ares began to laugh, a deep guffawing laugh that had him bending backward and puffing it into the sky. Aphrodite tittered, pressing her fingers to her mouth and turning to the side as her laugh tinkled into the air. Even Athena smirked, though she didn’t say anything nor laugh, just a widening of her lips and a slight disbelief at your stupidity in her eyes. “Is there a problem?”

“You have just asked to fight a REAL god of war, child, what am I to do other than laugh?” He replied, throwing his arms out and gazing at the crowd.

“Careful, brother,” Hermes spat, but you just placed a hand on his arm, stoic expression not changing.

“You could fight me,” you answered simply, beginning to tie your hair back. “Unless you do not believe in yourself, REAL god of war?”

Ares snarled, baring his teeth at you before stepping back and throwing off his purple sash. It would only be a hindrance to his fighting ability. You smiled, broad and bright, and a longsword appeared in your hand. A glorious weapon, with a handle of white bone carved from a broken fang of Fenrir. The blade was black like onyx, but fashioned from the strongest metal the dwarves could find and forge in Nidavellir. It was your favourite. You spun it in your hand lazily, inspecting it for a moment before turning to look back at Ares. Your eyes flashed blue, so quickly that if anyone had blinked they would have missed it. Then, with a smile so gentle you seemed you could never hurt a fly, you attacked.

It took you no more than five minutes to have Ares on the floor, your sword pointed at his throat. You were swift like wind, clanging your sword against his before twisting around him and kicking the back of his knee and then the other to flip him over as he fell. Not a hair out of place, you smiled down at him, pressing the point just a little into the skin of his throat before pulling it away completely and sending it back to Asgard. Ares stared up at you with eyes so wide you thought they would pop out of his head. He was winded, puffing on the floor as he tried to figure out where he was, what had just happened.

“How did you…” Hermes stared at you, mouth wide open.

“I told you! I’m good at strategy. He is cocky, and he underestimated me. He believed I was being cocky, and thought that when I saw him with his sword I would be apprehensive. He did not expect a swift beginning attack, nor did he believe I would risk trying to go for an obvious place like the back of the knees. To know your opponent is to be able to defeat them. Simple.” You smiled at Hermes, shrugging and turning away from the crowd to venture around the flower display and find one you hadn’t seen yet.

Ares sat up, Aphrodite gulped, and Athena turned away, walking off. The entire group began to whisper about what they had just witnessed, the story spreading to all the gods and spirits quicker than a wildfire. They slowly dispersed, leaving Ares on the floor with Aphrodite gently patting his shoulder in a sad attempt at comfort (which he shoved off as he stood and stormed away).

Poseidon watched all this and waited until he had walked back to his throne to let himself smile. He leaned back and replayed the fight in his mind, chuckling at the way you had stomped on the back of Ares’ knee with your delicate shoes. Oh he was absolutely enthralled by this goddess, and he didn’t even know your name yet…

Taglist: @josxkl1m

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jhoneybees · 6 months

Note

Hey there! I absolutely adore your work and I was wondering if you could write a fluff piece with 70s E? I’m thinking, 1975/76-ish. The reader is wayyy younger than him (like, early twenties), and he’s sort of insecure about being “too old” for her? Something real cute and fluffy? Thank youuu! ☺️

Ahh!! My first ever request!! Thank you for requesting! I love this idea so much, made my heart clench :(

I really hope you like it!

____________________

Too Old

Elvis and you have been dating for a couple of years now and your relationship is quite publicly open, especially the obvious 20 year age gap but that doesn't stop you two from loving each other. You adore Elvis in every way and same goes for him, you two couldn't have asked for another lover in the whole world, you both love eachother so much.

The newspapers often ramble on about the age gap you two have and he knows he should just ignore it but Elvis can't help it to think maybe he's too old for you, thinking he can't catch up with you and your young antics. The thought of dating a 40 year old man while you're in your early twenties does seem a little much but the love you have for your boyfriend is all that fills your mind. Having to slow down for Elvis so he could catch up is something you really don't mind doing, you would be sad if he misses out on anything.

You two are usually quite open with your thoughts and feelings but Elvis worrying about his age is something he doesn't want you to know, the thought of him being an old man as he watches you from the couch, dancing with your friends at a party or squeezing your thigh gently as you sit on his lap whilst chatting with the others about things that he doesn't understand in this new generation made him feel so insecure.

One night after a party, Elvis stumbles into the TV room, sitting himself down on the couch and grabbing the remote to flick through the channels on his TVs as you get yourself ready for bed upstairs in the bedroom. That stupid thought of his age is really getting to him, he thinks of you possibly leaving him to go find someone more suitable for your young age is eating him alive. His thoughts get interrupted by you calling his name, he calls for you in a tired tone “In the TV room” Your walking turns into a skip making your way to him, seeing Elvis watching a random dramatic soapy on one of the TVs, you quietly sit beside him. His arm wrapping around you so you could rest against his chest, you let out a content sigh as your hand slips through the low V cut shirt Elvis has on to feel his soft chest hair. The silent moment made you smile, the cosy ambience of being in Graceland watching TV with Elvis was something you have always dreamt of doing as a teenager but a prickly feeling made you come back from your daydreaming, a feeling that something was wrong with Elvis. He has been quiet this past week but you just thought he was just tired which he usually is but you realised maybe there's something else.

Looking up to see Elvis' face blank with a hint of sadness as his blue eyes stare at the television. You carefully sit up and ask him “Feelin' alright?” Earning a quiet hum in return. You frown slightly “Are you sure Elvis?” Elvis' eyes that were glued to the TV looks down at your hand that sits on his thigh, he looks up at you noticing you worryingly watching him. Giving you a soft smile, he nods “I'm alright honey, don't worry about me” with a slow nod you reply with a “Ok” kissing his cheek softly before returning to the position you were in before.

After a few minutes of reappearing silence you begin talking about something that you and your friends have been babbling on about and Elvis just replies with quiet hums and uhuh’s. He doesn't understand what you're talking about so he hesitantly interrupts “I-i'm sorry honey but could ya explain that?” You nod as you obediently sit up making Elvis' hand slide from your hip to your knee. “It's about the Beatles! Lucy was tellin' me about how she went to one of their concerts and told me how much she loved it” Elvis nods, a thought running in his head that maybe he's losing his musical touch and everyone is losing interest in him now.

You continue to babble on, not noticing Elvis' eyes drifting away from you and giving his troubling thoughts attention. Your talking comes to a halt as you watch Elvis look down at the carpet, your eyebrows furrow “Elvis darling…” turning his head to look at you with your fingers on his chin, he smiles weakly “ M’sorry y/n got carried away” he chuckles unconvincingly “what's on your mind?” You ask. Elvis gulps and looks down from your eyes before he gently moves your hand away from his chin, caressing the back of your hand with his thumb. He sighs “I'm too old for you…” your eyebrows furrow even more, shaking your head as you bring your other hand to cup his cheek “Elvis sweetie..” he can't bear to look you in the eye “You always wait for me to catch up on ya…on this young generation” you knew Elvis gets insecure about himself a lot and it really breaks your heart, you want him to see what you see of him in your eyes. A loving man that gives you all his love that you never asked for. “Honey, I don't mind waiting on you… it means the world to me for you to join in on the fun” you smile nervously, he shakes his head “better to just leave me and go find someone younger” you shake your head frantically and a sad “No..” leaves your mouth. Cupping both of his cheeks forcing him to look you in the eye “How could I ever leave you? You're my baby, my honey, my love” He gulps again as he listens “We may have a big age gap but I don't care about that Elvis, I really don't…all I care about is loving you, taking care of you, waiting on you. I'd do anything..” your voice begins to crack, the nasty thoughts that were plaguing his mind disappear as he hears your devotion for him. “Doesn't matter how old you may be I will always love you no matter what” Elvis smiles softly “You mean it?” You nod in return “I swear on my own grave” he looks at you in awe “I love you so damn much..” he says just above a whisper “I love you too, daddy” making him genuinely laugh.

____________________

#elvis #elvis presley #elvis fans #70s elvis #elvis imagine #elvis presley x reader #my heart is aching

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rubydubydoo122 · 20 days

Note

could you talk more about fanon vs canon tim drake? i havent gotten too far into the comics yet but have seen a lot of him (mis?)characterized by others

Just a preface, I'm not gonna crucify any Tim fans who find themselves writing these tropes, because it is fandom, and everyone's allowed their own interpretations of the character, I'm just personally not a fan of these takes on Tim because in my mind they just don't make sense for the character. If anyone has differing opinions, feel free to (politely) explain them to me, because I'm happy to hear them.

Ok, so much like Fanon Dick Grayson, there are two versions of fanon Tim Drake.

There's version A.) where where he's one minor inconvienience away from becoming a supervillain (I understand where this one comes from and I don't HATE it) and there's version B.) where he was criminally neglected as a kid and is infantalized (This version of Tim I Loathe)

I'll start with version A. I see where it comes from. Mainly the Red Robin 2009 run, but we have to remember that Tim was grieving pretty much everyone close to him during that era. He was being self destructive because of that grief, and yeah, grief changes a person, but Tim is the type of character who would still turn out good despite all the hurt handed to him. Oh! But Gun Batman-- Tim actively chose against being that. He would rather kill himself than let himself become a version of Batman who went against everything Batman stood for. I know there are multiple storylines where Tim meets and evil future version of himself, but those versions would constantly be like a weight on him to be good. All in all, if I had to choose between the fanon Tim Drakes, I would choose villain Tim Drake, as long as it's done in more of a character-study way rather than a 'He deserves to go evil, as a treat' because it's an interesting take with the right motives.

Now onto Version B. Loser Tim Drake. The reason I Loathe this version of Tim is because it usually involves Characters Assassination of the characters around him. Ok, so do I agree that Tim Drake was somewhat neglected? Yes. But goddamit, the way I see Jack and Janet portrayed, you would think that they were running from the feds or something. They were good people, just bad parents. Maybe a little immature to raise a child, but it wasn't to the point where they would probably need to call CPS. Neglect isn't black and white, and the Drakes fell into that grey-- which I personally believe to be a lighter shade. You do have to remember that a lot of Tim's introduction was written in the 90's where parenting styles were a lot different compared to Today. Still, they sent him to boarding school, meaning they made sure that some form of adult was taking care of Tim AND a lot of people try to make Jack Drake out to be the villain for stopping Tim from being Robin, and blackmailing Bruce for it, but... It's What Any Sane Parent Would Do? I'm 18, but I know if I ever had a kid, and then fell into a coma and then woke up and found out that my Kid was fighting crime in one of the most CRIME RIDDEN CITIES alongside my middle-aged neighbor who dresses up like a furry I WOULD CALL THE FUCKING COPS. But enough about the Drakes. Because not only does Loser Tim Drake assassinate their character, but why is 17 year old Tim the victim when it comes to 10 year old Damian-- "Oh he tried to kill him' They're both trained by assassins. They're both trained. They're both Trained. Why Is a Junior/Senior in high school hurt by the actions of a 5th grader. I have a similar age gap with my younger brother. We have had pretty brutal fights and the next day we're fine. I'm not going to get into "Attack on Titans Tower AUs" but I will say this, Every Time I Start To Read One Of Those, I Lose Half Of My Hair Because of How Bad the Characterization Of Both Jason And Tim are. Please, Read, The, Comic. Jason Wasn't Trying To Kill Tim. If He Was, Tim would Be Dead. ANd Tim was Snarking Jason Through The Entire Confrontation. Lastly, Why Has DICK 'BAMF' GRAYSON TURNED INTO TIM"S NUMBER ONE OP????!!!! DIck IS LITERALLY TiM's ChiLDHOOD HEro!!!!! NoT BAtMAN, DICK GRAYSON. And like, not only that, Dick and Tim are the most brotherly. I'm Begging, Please go read a 90's comic. Why is it, the only time I see Dicks Manipulative side in fanon, It's in opposition to Tim? I bet it's bc of Teen Titans Go. I bet the only Tim and Dick interaction they've seen is TTG Robin going "No BOdy cARes AbOuT TiM DrAke"

Sorry that ended up becoming rant-y, and less objective. Since actually reading comics, fanon Tim Drake gets on my nerves.

#tim drake #anti tim drake #not anti tim drake #anti fanon tim drake #batman #batfam #dc comics #bruce wayne #jack drake #janet drake #justice for the drakes #dick grayson #damian wayne #jason todd

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emilysholster · 10 months

Text

Satisfied (David Rossi x BAUAgent!Reader) Pt. 1/2

Summary: the tension building between you and Rossi becomes hard to ignore when he invites the team over for dinner

Tags: mentions of breakup, reader is in denial of feelings (but not for long 😼), flirting, unspecified age gap, so much tension that it’s basically edging at this point, also i made assumptions about the layout of his house ok, (fem!reader)

Translations: buonasera (good evening), bella (beautiful)

A/N: sorry I split this one into two parts just because it was getting so long <3 also please note I try to write the reader as neutral as possible, since it’s something I appreciate in fics as a woc myself. that being said, please point out to me if you ever feel that language I use in a fic is not as neutral as it could be in terms of skin colour, body type, etc.

Read Part Two

Maybe it was because you and your boyfriend of the past few years had just broken up, but it felt as though the energy between you and Rossi had been different as of late.

To be fair, you’d always found yourself drawn to the famed agent; not because of his reputation, but because you genuinely enjoyed being around him. Rossi was great at pushing you to be the best you could be and to think outside the box. He also had a knack for knowing exactly how you were feeling at a given time, often being the source of reassurance when you were down.

And all of these things still stood, but lately it was becoming more difficult than usual to keep your feelings for him strictly professional. At times, it felt as though you and Rossi were communicating things without words.

There would be instances where you could feel his eyes on you from across the room, without even looking at him. Other times, you’d be looking over details of a case together and he would somehow find a way to have a hand on you, whether it be on your shoulder or on the small or your back.

Even Emily had noticed the shift. She said as much when the two of you were out for lunch a few weeks ago.

“Hey what’s up between you and Rossi? Is that finally happening?”

You looked up at the brunette in alarm. “What? What do you mean?”

Emily gave you a look, telling you she was seeing right through you. “Look, I don’t know exactly what it is, but what I do know is that he seemed particularly interested that day when you were telling me about your breakup.”

At your incredulous look, she went on. “He was pretending to read a file in his hands 6ft behind you but it was obvious he was eavesdropping, Y/N.”

Emily smirked. “Deny all you want Y/N, but I see you fighting that smile.”

Despite all this, you still tried to push your feelings aside. He was a senior agent and you were technically the newest of the team, having been on it for about two years now. And who’s to say he wasn’t like this for the other team members? Maybe he just had a habit of taking people under his wing. It didn’t mean anything.

So, this was what you told yourself when Rossi’s eyes stayed on yours for a beat too long as he invited everyone over for dinner. It was what you told yourself when he said ‘see you tonight’ as he passed by your desk on his way out earlier today. And it was what you kept telling yourself when you reached Rossi’s house and rang the doorbell, stomach filled with butterflies.

It seemed like you were the first to arrive, as the other team members’ cars were nowhere to be seen. The door opened, and Rossi smiled when he saw you. “Buonasera, Y/N.” He greeted, ushering you in.

You were welcomed by the scent of the agent’s famous cooking, your mouth already watering. You could hear the soft sound of Italian music coming from what you presumed to be the dining room, making you smile to yourself. The man knew how to create ambiance.

“Is that a gift for me?” Rossi asked, turning to where you stood in the foyer.

You looked down at the cream coloured orchid plant you held in your hands, having momentarily forgotten it. “Oh! Yes. A housewarming present, since it is my first time here.” You handed the pot to the amused agent. “Your house is lovely by the way.”

“How nice, thank you.” He smiled softly, holding the plant up so he could admire the flowers. “If I’m remembering right, Ancient Greeks believed orchids to be symbols of virility, love, and passion.” At this, his eyes met yours, and you could feel your cheeks warming.

“Interesting,” you smiled, hoping it wasn’t obvious that you knew that already. A smirk played about Rossi’s lips as he placed your gift on the table in the foyer, just as a timer in the kitchen rang out. “Excuse me a second, Y/N. Make yourself at home, please.” He said over his shoulder as he walked over to the kitchen.

You began unbuttoning your coat as you walked to the dining room, shrugging it off and leaving you in the simple black dress you wore. You hung the coat behind a chair before noticing some pictures that were hung up on the wall opposite to you.

You walked over to study them closer. There was a black and white one of two people you assumed to be Rossi’s parents. His father had the same rich dark hair and build but his eyes and smile were clearly those of his mother.

Another photo was of a younger version of him standing with a team of people, probably from when he helped found the BAU. The one next to it was of him and Hotch, likely taken after solving a case.

You heard Rossi’s footsteps approaching and turned to see him holding two glasses of wine. He paused a few steps away, and you watched as his eyes roamed over your figure in a way that made your skin burn. “Look at you,” he said, almost to himself.

You smiled, grabbing a glass from his outstretched hand. “I like the photos you have up here.” You said, looking back at the framed pictures as he stood next to you.

“Arguably from my better days,” Rossi chuckled. You turned back to face him at this admission, surprised.

“Really? I would beg to differ,” you quipped, watching him as you took a sip of wine. Rossi’s gaze flickered down to your lips as you licked them.

“Would you now?” If you weren’t mistaken, there seemed to be a hint of suggestion in the older agent’s voice. You registered just then how close you two were standing.

Before you could come up with an intelligible response, the doorbell rang. Rossi gave you a knowing smile before leaving to answer it.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. Taking a large gulp of wine, you entered the kitchen just as Rossi and Emily did.

Emily raised a brow once she saw you, a devilish grin on her face that went unseen by Rossi. “And here I thought I was early.” She seemed delighted by your flushed appearance and the death glare you shot her way.

The rest of the team arrived fairly soon after that: Hotch, Reid, JJ, Morgan, and lastly, Penelope. Rossi served his famous lasagna for dinner, followed by tiramisu for dessert. It was clear he was proud of what he made and he revelled in the team’s praise.

Derek clutched his stomach after the meal. “Rossi, man. I think I’m gonna be in a coma after this.”

“I second that,” JJ laughed.

The team moved over to the living space, settling on the couches as they chatted away. You noticed Rossi carrying some dishes to the kitchen and decided to stay in the dining room and help clear the plates from the table.

A hand came to rest on the small of your back while you stacked the plates, startling you before you realized it was Rossi. He leaned in close to your ear. “What did you think of the food, bella? I’d like your personal review.”

You turned around to face him, now positioned in such a way that his hand rested on your hip while you leaned against the table. “And why is that?” You asked, smirking up at him.

“No reason,” he said, though his tone wasn’t convincing. “Just tell me.”

You giggled, leaning back slightly against your hands as they gripped the table. “It was delicious, Dave, really. You’re an amazing cook.”

Rossi seemed pleased with your answer. “And were you…satisfied?” This time you were sure he was alluding to something else.

You felt your throat go dry. He tilted his head as he studied your face and you felt the hand on your hip tighten its grip almost imperceptibly. “Well?”

Maybe it was the wine and the brimming tension of the evening that made you respond the way you did. “Almost.”

If you hadn’t been watching Rossi’s eyes intently, you would have missed it, but you swore you saw them darken. “Is that so,” he said lowly, his lips hovering near yours. You felt your your skin warm under his gaze, your face inching towards his.

“Hey Rossi, Y/N,” Derek called, startling the both of you into springing apart. “Quit cleaning and get over here. We’re playing poker.”

Your heart raced as you were abruptly reminded of the team sitting a few feet away. Thankfully, the two of you were obscured by a wall between the dining and living areas.

Rossi let out a deep sigh, expressing your mutual disappointment at being interrupted. He gave your hip a meaningful squeeze before heading over to where the rest of the team sat, with you trailing behind him.

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