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corazondebeskar-reads · 3 months

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no quiet on this earth

Joel Miller x f!reader

originally for Febuwhump 2024 Day 10 - killing in self defense | Febuwhump masterlist

words: 2.8k

summary: You and Joel run into hunters on patrol.

-- I'm a fucking menace, and this is Joel & reader from "you know you never stood a chance" (spoiler warning). BUT this can be read as a standalone. I just can't seem to help myself/let them go.

warnings: established relationship, jackson, patrol partners, hunters, Joel and reader both kill hunters, canon-typical violence, graphic descriptions of violence, lots of blood, oral (m receiving), p in v unprotected, creampie, feelings, guilt/trauma, trauma response, a little hurt and a LOT of comfort, Joel takes care of you, one (1) ass slap, pussy/clit spanking

dividers by @saradika-graphics

They had been waiting for you. Not the biggest group of hunters that’s come ‘round, but there hadn’t been any signs. It was supposed to be an easy half-day route.

It was also your first patrol with Joel.

You’re already off to a rough morning. He’s settled back into Out There Joel, gruff and tense, and you’re already feeling useless again even though you know you can handle it now.

You’re on horseback, you with a gentle brown mare that you’re a little irritated about. Penny is notoriously slow and usually used to teach people to ride. Tommy taught you to ride ages ago, but Joel fucking insisted.

“Ain’t havin’ you have to deal with a spooked horse our first time out.”

“Our first time. I’ve been out loads of times,” you grumbled. He leveled you with a look so stern that you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t start with your smart mouth,” he said. “Only way this works is—“

“If I do what I’m told. I got it. Same shit, different place.”

To say you’re pissed would be an understatement. You thought after all the shit you’ve been through that he’d trust you now. And you’ve gotten quite good with your revolver and halfway decent with the rifle.

Now, out here on the trail to the safe house, neither of you has said a word. Just like the good old days. Y’know. If they had been good.

You’re nearly there when they make their move. They don’t have guns, thank fuckin’ god, but there are five of them and two of you.

It becomes quickly clear that they want the horses. Joel makes quick work of the first hunter that lunges for him.

One comes at him from each side, and you’re too worried to notice the other two do the same to you.

One grabs the reins and the other tries to yank you from the saddle. Your boots are stuck, and they don’t seem to particularly care if they break your legs during the extraction.

You free your feet, boots left behind, and let the brick house of a man pull you down. He doesn’t care much about your landing, so when you hit the ground, you grapple for your revolver.

His partner yells, and he spins back to you, a huge fist aiming for your face. But it doesn’t connect, because your bullet does first.

He was close enough that it would have been near impossible to miss, which also meant that his stupid body landed on you, turning your clothes into a sponge for his blood.

Joel’s rampaged through the others by now and turns to take down the one trying to abscond with your horse.

But he doesn’t make the shot, because he freezes up when he sees you.

“Get the fucking horse,” you yell.

He swears and loads the rifle, one neat bullet into the head of the escaping hunter. He hadn’t fully mounted your mare yet, and his corpse crumples into the soft spring soil.

Joel whistles and Penny takes her fucking time to come back, giving him a very unimpressed look and shaking her mane.

He heaves the dead man off you. “Where?” he says sharply, eyes darting all over your body.

“Nowhere, Joel, I’m fine,” you say.

He’s already dropping to his knees, hands gripping and patting every inch of you before cradling your face. “You’re sure?”

“I mean, I think so. Unless I’m in shock, but I guess we’ll find out in a little bit.”

“Not funny, sweetheart,” he mutters, doing another check, slower this time and more thorough.

You let him. You feel kind of funny, dizzy almost, but mostly just… muted. Like the world around you is muffled and you’re suddenly hyper aware of how blood is turning tacky and your jeans are stiffening as it dries.

“Hey,” he snaps.

You’re pretty sure that means he was already talking to you, and when you look up and meet his eyes, they abandon their irritation for concern beneath furrowed brows.

“Sweetheart, listen to me,” he says, voice low and slow. It draws out the Texan twang and loops you in. “You’re okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you. You did what you had to do, okay?”

“Okay,” you echo, but the word sticks in your throat, tasting of copper.

“Say it.”

“I did what I had to do.”

You’ve done as he said, but he looks more worried for it.

“Alright, c’mon. I’m gettin’ you home.”

“But—“

“Rethink that, baby. I ain’t in the mood to argue.”

“But we were supposed to—“

“Yeah, and plans fuckin’ change. We’re going back. Tommy and I can come out and deal with the bodies later.”

He stands and pulls you up, though you follow willingly. You hover where you stand as he pulls a rope from his bag and tethers it to Penny’s lead.

“What’re you doing?”

“Want you on Oakley with me.”

“I can ride,” you snap. “I’m not fucking hurt.”

“I know,” Joel says. “But you’re gonna ride with me.”

“Don’t start this shit,” you say, mortified when your voice and hands are trembling. “I can handle myself.”

He spins around, fury written in the curl of his lip. “I fuckin’ know that! I don’t give a shit. You’re riding with me, end of fuckin’ discussion.”

You open your mouth, ready to bite back, but he seizes you by the shoulders and shakes you a little.

“Don’t you fuckin’ get it? It’s not about you,” he snarls. You’re crushed against him before you realize it’s an embrace. “You’re gonna fuckin’ ride up here, so I know you’re okay.”

“Oh,” you whisper, leaning into him. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he says, but the fight is already leaving him. He presses a kiss to the top of your head before he lets go. “Now get on the damn horse before I put ya there myself.”

You think you deserve credit for only hesitating a little, tempted to see if he really would. But his jaw ticks and you heave yourself up onto Oakley. Joel swings himself behind you, caging you in as he takes the reins.

“You’re so fuckin’ stubborn,” he gripes.

“I learned it by watching you,” you say, voice pitched in mockery of the vague memory.

But instead of irritation, something akin to relief flashes across his face. “Yeah, s’that right?”

“Uh-huh.” Now that everything has calmed, you’re exhausted. He can tell because of course he can. He knows you too well.

“C’mon, lean back. I got ya. Not gonna let you fall.”

You don’t sleep, not really, but you fall into something between the light and dark. It’s blissfully absent of reality. You’re only aware of the soft sunshine, the sway of the horse, and Joel.

Joel, your Joel, is everything right now. All encompassing. You’re surrounded by his warmth and smoky musk, masking the chill and tang of the stains on your skin.

His heart seems to beat in time with Oakley’s hooves and the steady pace he encourages keeps you lulled in this safest place.

“Holy shit, what happened?” Carl asks at the gates, almost loud enough to knock you from your peace.

“Nothin’ too serious, she ain’t hurt,” Joel’s smooth tone settles you back down. “But do me a favor and get the horses back? Send Tommy my way in a while. I’m gonna take her home.”

Home. It sounds so nice. But you’re already there, you want to tell him. There’s nowhere you’d rather be than right here.

You must actually say it, because he chuckles. “Okay, sweetheart, but I can think of somewhere I’d rather be.”

It hurts a little before he leans in and murmurs in your ear.

“I’d rather be in a warm bath with ya. That sound better than stayin’ put?”

“Oh,” you say. “Yeah, you’re right. Way better idea.”

He makes good on his promise when you get home. While he draws the water, he peels your ruined clothes off and sits you on the bathroom counter to rinse the blood into the sink.

You sit very still with your eyes clenched shut as he cleans you.

“I know,” he murmurs. “First one’s the hardest.”

You can’t quite stopper the whimper.

“This is part of why I don’t like ya goin’ out there. I can’t protect you from this.” The admission costs him, but he seems to decide it’s worth it when you look up at him.

The tub isn’t really big enough for both of you, but he makes it work, long sprawling limbs propped up to make room for you against his chest. You lie on your side, both to make more room and to press your ear to his chest and listen to his strong, tender heart.

He holds you there, hand gentle on your head and the other around your shoulder until neither of you can pretend the water is comfortable still. More importantly, his cock’s been pressing against you for a little while now, and you’re unable to ignore it anymore.

You roll over on your stomach, legs bent a little funny to fit, but it’s the right angle to press a kiss to the fat mushroom head that you love so much.

“Sweetheart, you don’t need—”

But you just give him a look, because he knows better, he knows you’d never do anything you don’t want to. And he knows how often you crave it, how your throat aches for it.

He raises his hands in surrender. “I sure as hell ain’t gonna stop ya.”

With the convoluted seating arrangement, you’re able to swallow down his length, working your throat open in the way you’ve grown to know well. It’s a lot at once, but the way he groans is worth the effort.

You choke and gag a little, but neither of you are really bothered by it. Quite the opposite. And you’re grateful for the way the thoughts you don’t want to face are knocked from your brain each time he ruts deeper.

Too soon, though, he’s pulling you off, spit thick with precum stringing between him and your lips as you whine.

“C’mon, let’s get out. I gotta have more of you.”

You don’t dry off quite as much as you’d like, but you’re probably going to need to change the sheets anyway. He can’t be bothered to let you towel off properly, picking you up and setting you on the bed before crawling over your body.

He kisses you, ferocious but hesitant, and you trail your hands up his arms, basking in the way he encompasses you for the second time today. His soft, powerful body leaves no wiggle room, practically pinning you down with his bulk.

Except he’s holding himself up, tense. And the gentleness of his tongue and distinct lack of nipping teeth in his kiss is grating.

You turn your head to break apart. “Stop acting like I’m gonna fall apart.”

“I—”

“Oh, don’t even. It’s like you think I’m going to break if you touch me.”

“I didn’t want to make it feel like…”

“I know,” you say, softer. “But I want to feel you, Joel. I don’t want to feel the ghost of it… him. Please.”

“You wanna feel me, sweetheart? Want me to be a little rough with ya?”

“Unless you’re too tired. S’it past your bedtime, old man?”

He doesn’t fall for the taunt, but he pretends to, and you’re deeply grateful as he snarls and bites at your breast before licking and sucking at your nipple, taking it between his teeth and shaking a little.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan, hand tangling into his hair. He wears it a little shaggier these days, and you find you like it long. A lot.

“Think you can take it just like this?” he says around your other nipple. The hand that isn’t holding him up has reached down to his cock, rubbing it against your clit until you squirm, and then dragging it down your slit. “You’re fuckin’ soaked. I think you can take it.”

He doesn’t wait any longer than the first little nod of your head before he flicks his hips, parting you, forcing your body to make room for him. It takes a second thrust to push all the way in, and you cry out as he stuffs you full.

It hurts so good. It’s just the edge you need to feel awake again. The world is no less fuzzy but the haze is pleasurable and electric instead of the numb fog that refused to dissipate.

“That’s my girl,” he says.

It floods you with warmth. You think maybe the sappiness is leaking through, that he can see how stupidly in love you feel.

Or, you know, it’s actually leaking, since you’re apparently fucking crying. You can’t really begrudge yourself for it. It’s been a hell of a day.

“There you go,” he murmurs, the gentleness of his voice playing second to the harsh slap of his hips and the tight pinch of his fingers on your breasts. “Let it out, sweetheart. Let me help you.”

His pace, somehow, intensifies, the brutal snap of his cock blunt against the softest parts of you. He pushes your legs to your chest so he can shove his way in deeper, and smacks a harsh hand against your ass from his new vantage point.

He grips your hip with one hand and lets up on your tits, only to show no mercy to your clit. He skips over the gentle circles and soft strokes, instead pinching and tugging. He wrenches two orgasms from you before he eases off.

“Hold your pussy open for me,” he grunts.

You look at him with wide eyes. How can he still be finding ways to shock you with depravity? The two of you have to have fucked every which way, and yet. You slide a hand down but he shakes his head.

“Both of ‘em, baby. Nice and wide.”

Your cheeks are burning as he lifts up onto his knees, pushing your legs apart to watch as you spread your lips wide. For a moment, he’s mesmerized by the push and pull of his cock splitting you apart and the way it comes out a little slicker each time.

“Look at that,” he says, a smug smirk spreading. “Fuckin’ creamin’ all over me, sweetheart. Now hold still.”

Before you really process the order, still dying from how hot his filthy words are, he slaps your clit. You jerk and let go, crying out more in surprise than pain.

“Put your fuckin’ hands back,” he says, and you obey.

Your whole body is on fire, maybe. He brings his hand down sharply again and again, making you hold yourself spread wide for him to use as he pleases.

It doesn’t really surprise either of you when you come. He finally knocks your hands away from your cunt and leans back down over you, hips stammering sloppily.

“Can I—” he chokes out, and you’re nodding so hard it shakes your brain around. He digs his fingers into your hips. “C’mon, sweetheart, one more. Gimmie one more while I fill you up.”

He goes to reach for your clit, but it doesn’t matter. As soon as he starts twitching and pulsing inside you, you come, eyes rolling back and fingernails digging into his biceps.

When you’ve both settled, there’s something bright in his eyes, something wild and dangerous. He sinks his teeth into your collarbone and doesn’t pull out. His softening cock isn’t much smaller than it is erect, and he stays buried deep in you, eyes trailing over your face.

“What?” you say softly.

“I thought… thought I fuckin’ lost you today.” His voice is gruff but tight.

“You didn’t, Joel. M’right here.”

He kisses you, and it’s not gentle exactly, not like earlier, but it’s tender and demanding. His hands grip you and roam, not pursuing pleasure but just to have his fill of you, to feel your body warm and alive beneath him.

When he breaks away from your swollen lips, he presses a kiss to your forehead. “You did good. I don’t like it, but you did good. I’m not gonna ask you not to go out again, but—”

“I’m gonna ask Tommy if I can have a break,” you say, pursing your lips. “I’m not a coward, but I don’t know if I can do that again.” You’re burning again, but this time with shame.

“No one expects you to. It doesn’t mean you’re a coward. You’re tough, sweetheart. But y’ain’t a killer.”

“I am, though,” you whisper.

“Stop. Yes, you killed that man today. But you had to. It was him or you. You’re a survivor. But I’m going to make damn sure you don’t have to be anymore, alright? We’re safe here, now.”

You let out a ragged sigh and try to relax back into the pillow. “Okay,” you agree. You can tell he needs it. How scared he was.

At least for now, you’ll let him protect you from this.

*title from "Death For My Birthday" by Say Anything

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #jackson!joel #joel miller fic #the last of us fic #joel miller smut #the last of us smut #fic: you know you never stood a chance #fuck it we'll call this a surprise deleted scene lmao #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday10

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 6 months

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Last Chance Lost Fic- FOUND

Stiles is coming to terms with his sexuality and he keeps contacting Danny as a gay mentor? Stiles is having a sort of secret relationship with Derek- where they don't talk about it but it is more of a physical relationship.pretty sure Stiles was a virgin and it started off with Stiles blowing Derek and then calling Danny to see if it means something. It was a short fic with sterek getting together.

@eerieen says it could be this one!

Shifts by gryvon

(1/1 I 15,077 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles has what he's always secretly wanted - he's in a relationship with Derek and he's one of Derek's betas - but all that gets turned upside down when Gerard kidnaps him and his unexpected baby.

#teen wolf #lost fic #anon #last chance lost fic #kidnapping #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #danny mahealani #mpreg

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feroluce · 16 days

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Lucid Dreamer (1/2)

part 2

Gepard notices that it's been. Quiet lately. Like weirdly quiet. TOO quiet. He hasn't seen Sampo Koski in almost a week, which is about the longest he's ever been absent. And he is NOT worried. He's not! So what if they've been getting along more lately! So what if Gepard sometimes looks for him in his favorite hiding places! So what if he's been dreaming about blue hair and green eyes! It's nothing!!

But they're….strange, these dreams. Gepard doesn't usually remember what he's dreamt. It's out of his mind seconds within waking up. But these stick with him, they won't leave him be, they feel different somehow.

He dreams of Sampo bringing food to the frontlines and eating breakfast in his tent with him. Sampo always sneaks him extras. He dreams of chasing Sampo through the alleyways, Sampo sometimes letting himself be caught, Gepard sometimes catching him, and trying to ignore how it feels more like a game now more than anything else. He even dreams that Sampo tags along with him on one of his few civilian days. Sampo runs errands with him, prattles about inane bullshit while Gepard picks out groceries for the week, drags Gepard into some bakery he's never been to but he thinks Serval mentioned once.

And sometimes, it feels so close to reality, that Gepard half expects to see Sampo, shamelessly swaggering into the frontlines with all the guards' breakfast like his wanted poster wasn't only recently taken off the walls of Belobog. He's disappointed when it's always someone else instead. He tells himself his disappointment is ridiculous and if Sampo wants to go prowl around the Snow Plains or wherever he is, then fine. It's not any of his business.

…But it IS his job to investigate any unusual criminal activity relating to the frontlines. And the frontlines are Sampo's usual haunting grounds, and this is unusual activity, and Sampo IS technically a criminal, so it is absolutely part of his duty to look into this - is what Gepard tells himself the entire tram ride down into the Underground.

Natasha tells him he's gone, and Gepard has to steel himself. He knew Sampo made enemies wherever he went, there are a lot of people who would love his head on a platter, but he didn't think-

Natasha corrects him that she means literally gone. As in off-planet. Sampo always leaves her a note before he goes anywhere, so she knows not to expect any supply runs from him. He should be back in exactly two weeks. Thank the Preservation.

Gepard goes back home. He waits.

The uneasiness doesn't leave him.

"Where did you go?" Sampo stops dead in the middle of some story about Seele, and how you'd think someone with as blunt a mouth as her wouldn't have so much trouble asking a woman out, even if that woman IS the Supreme Guardian, and stares at him. He nearly fumbles his cigarette.

"Ahaha, what do you mean, I'm right here?" Sampo smiles at him the same way he always does. Gepard has no idea why he asked. It just popped out. He can never tell when Sampo is lying, anyway.

"I don't know. I feel like I haven't seen you in a long time." Gepard idly mouths at his own cigarette. He almost never smokes, but he wants to ration their stocks of Blizzard Immunity, and it helps with the cold. It's seemed colder lately, for some reason.

Gepard flicks his lighter once, twice, sighs at the third time because a metal prosthetic and thick gloves make the damn things so difficult. Sampo reaches over and wordlessly kisses the end of his cigarette to Gepard's, lighting it. "Thank you."

Nothing happens for almost a full 30 seconds. Something churns behind Gepard's ribcage. Because Sampo never leaves a "thank you" hanging. This is the part where he gives his spiel about how helpful and kind he is and Gepard either brings up how long his rap sheet was before Bronya helped clear his name, or just stares deadpan because seeing Sampo squirm is weirdly satisfying.

"…I'll be back in one more week."

Gepard jolts awake in his cot, mouth dry and eyes bleary.

The hell.

The next dream he has, Sampo looks tired. Sometimes he seems normal. Sometimes he says strange things, like how he wishes he'd gone to some restaurant in Belobog. Ate his favorite food more recently. Brought something with him. Gepard asks why he can't do that now. Where would he bring something? Sampo only shrugs. His rebuttals have less energy.

Gepard doesn't know if he wants to dream more, or less.

He ticks down the days on his calendar. Natasha hasn't told him any different. She promised she would if she got any kind of message. Sampo returns tomorrow, from whatever vacation or seedy business dealings he's been off having. He is not excited about it. He is not looking forward to it. He's not!!

Gepard falls asleep late that night, unable to settle. He dreams again.

He's alone. There are tons of people everywhere, the frontlines are always crowded. But he's alone. They all pass right by him as though he were a ghost. Gepard starts to walk before he realizes his feet are even moving.

He checks the trashcans in the dead end alley. He checks the supply crates that someone always stacks too high because they don't feel like finding more space for them. He pauses to check the soldiers that march past him, watching their footprints in the snow.

He finally finds Sampo on the rooftop along the northernmost wall, the one that looks out over the plains, towards Everwinter Hill, towards where the Stellaron had once been kept. With a full moon and an entire land of white snow, Gepard can almost see clear out to the horizon.

"Found you." Sampo stiffens, and Gepard is almost prepared for him to sprint off the roof. He doesn't. But he doesn't relax either. Gepard sits down next to him and stares out at the wastelands.

"…I fucked up." It wasn't what Gepard had been expecting. Sampo never 'fucks up,' Sampo just gets into incidents that are entirely, supposedly, not his fault and that he just happens to always be within the vicinity of.

"What did you do now?" It must be really bad if Sampo is coming to the Silvermanes for protection.

Instead, Sampo ignores his question completely. "See out over there? Right on the other side of that mountain. There's a safe house that way. It's hidden under a lot of snow and dead trees, but it's there. And in that safe house is a box full of letters. I need you to deliver those letters for me."

Gepard's brow furrows. It's a weird favor to ask. Sampo would never tell anyone where his hidden safehouses were. It defeated the whole purpose of a hidden safe house.

Something is wrong, something is really really wrong.

Gepard turns back to look at him again and startles, all of his questions dying in his throat, because the entire left side of Sampo's head is suddenly matted down, dark and sticky, his skin is dyed red red red-

"In three more months, there's gonna be something big happening." Gepard grabs Sampo's hand and it feels slick and warm against his palm. "I won't be here. So I need you to do my end of things for me." Gepard tries to keep hold, but something is fading, something is slowing, the sun is coming up but the colors are all wrong, everything feels like encroaching fog, Sampo's hand slides right through his. "I was gonna come back with my mask to finish setting the stage, but…" Gepard makes a frantic grab for Sampo's wrist, the air twists, he comes back empty-handed. "They have you. And you're the Iron Wall of Belobog. So it'll be ok."

Gepard finally manages to find his grip, snatches the front of Sampo's dark wet jacket and yanks him forward to hold onto him, and this close up, he can see it better, his colors are bleaching out, leaking outside the lines as if Sampo will become part of the background, as if he's fading into the strange fog that's been closing in on them. His fingers are already starting to feel empty again.

"Wake up."

Gepard jolts awake, uncurls his hands from where they're fisted in the blanket, scrubs the dampness off his face. Breathes. Breathes. Breathes. Today is supposed to be the day.

He throws on his civilian clothes, and he goes down to the shipyard the IPC had built. He finds a spot where he can see every person that returns to Belobog, and he waits.

And he waits and he waits and he waits.

No one he recognizes appears.

#sampard #gepo #hsr gepard #hsr sampo #gepard landau #sampo koski #honkai star rail #hsr #blood #my fics #lucid dreamer #there was more to this but it didn't feel right included here so part 2 tomorrow maybe?#I just think Penacony being the land of dreams presents some FASCINATING possibilities like showing up in other people's dreams #the end of masquerade duet killed me just beat me dead #Sampo going through all this trouble just to protect Belobog...#poor Ray got such an earful that night haha #In the Penacony dreamscape someone can change their appearance however they want but I think in this case where one of the dreamers AREN'T-#-on Penacony it would take more concentration to keep that illusion up #and if someone were say. hurt and badly bleeding. it would start to fall apart eventually as they lost their concentration.#but oh my heart #Sampo being away and missing Belobog so badly he shows up in his friends' dreams just to do the same mundane shit they always do...#He probably showed up to everyone #he sat around and kept Natasha company in her clinic. he pestered Seele until he provoked her into asking Bronya on a date.#he played one last song with Pela and Serval. he told them he'd always kept his old bass guitar.#he took Hook out on one last joyride on his scooter and he even let her sit up front and steer like she'd always wanted.#and he stood around to shoot the shit with Gepard #he got to go do things like run domestic errands together with him. as if they could have been something more than what they were at the en #it was nice to get the chance to do all that #it was nice

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mugentakeda · 5 months

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iroh azula antagonism is sooo important to me guys i cant ever read azula redemption fics cus none of them include their insane beef. its such a lonely world out here. can u even imagine how nuts it wouldve been if she found out abt the white lotus. i need to talk ab them dude

i like to imagine the trip back to the fn after ba sing se zuko didnt talk to iroh at all while he was in the brig because he was so in shock and still reeling that iroh outright betrayed him and his family and nation for the avatar. those three years iroh spent with zuko on the ship encouraging him meant what now? "why would he banish you if he didnt care" meant what now that you helped what would undo the banishment evade me?

and azula has never been above gloating, even over the most pathetic scum. so she makes sure to head to the brig the night they depart, her exhausted brother conked out in his quarters none the wiser, mai and ty lee flanking her. and even though the mission had been to capture the avatar dead or alive, theres something about looking down at her restrained uncle whod been working the whole time to get zuko (who has an unending list of faults but is loyal above all else and had been trying his hardest to fulfill the terms of his banishment even while being a wanted criminal to their nation- something she will not overlook) to betray their nation is somehow more satisfying by tenfold than looking down at a restrained avatar.

she knows just how hard iroh takes losing. he lost ba sing se and a son years ago, and here he has lost ba sing se and a son once more. or a boy his senile, trauma-riddled mind has convinced him is his son. her uncle bet against her father by trying to turn his son against him for whatever traitorous and foolish reasons he has and frankly shes just overjoyed to have him out of the way once and for all, because azula is a dragon just as much as iroh and she will always strive to protect her blood, because irohs the one who let zuko into that war room in the first place, because what right does he have to allow her foolish brother that couldnt keep his trap shut to save his life in a situation like that and then have the audacity to try and turn him against them when zuko even being in ba sing se (instead of working under azula along with mai and ty lee like he shouldve been) was all his fault in the first place? she hopes freeing zuko of him stings unlike anything else. she hopes if that sting manifested in reality it would take the shape of an ugly stamp right across his face and haunt him for the rest of his days in his self made prison.

and then iroh can say that zuko had no choice BUT to be loyal above all else because if he wasnt thats a death sentence from ozai. and then azula can say that thats wise of her father then because if that wasnt how it was then their whole family would be an infested nest of lying cowards like iroh. mustve been something her dad learned from his dear old brother. and what can iroh even say to that

#honestly i dont like fics that have iroh have bittersweet memories of ozai or hold deep down love for him because hes his brother.#like the way i see it iroh was alr old enough to leave the palace and fight by the time ozai even came along #he probably wasnt even there when ozai was born. The age difference left no chance of fair competition and ozai HATED it #yes i do think a lot of him pitting azula and zuko against each other is projecting #he gives his oldest no chance of winning to make himself feel better for how his older brother gave him no chance of winning #theres NO LOVE between them yall #what ozai did to zuko just made iroh genuinely Loathe ozai. like he was so despicable it kicked irohs ass out of his own apathy #IDK. azula is so normal though i think she can be allowed to torment iroh. As a treat.#atla #avatar the last airbender

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harleyification · 1 year

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Can I talk about Avatar for a second?? Lemme talk about ATLA/ALoK for a second.

Like, so, I have many, many...many....grievances and hangups about A:LoK. I have tried to watch it twice, and while the first season is okay, the second season made me so mad that I dropped it. Twice. I have not watched the third season or got to see Gays In Action in 4k, because I was that disappointed.

I remember a hell of a lot about ATLA...but I can barely remember anything about Korra. That’s mostly due to my disappointment, but the fact remains that I barely remember the show, after watching it twice, and it’s the latest installment. That being said, I remember one thing that stuck out to me most....

Vaatu.

I am so, SO disappointed that they really just!! Made up this AMAZING concept of an Avatar counter-spirit, and they were just like!! “Oh yeah, his concepts are chaos and darkness, he’s EVIL, dudes.”

The one thing in the world that could possibly rival one as strong as the Avatar, would have been Another Avatar. They could’ve done something amazing with that!! They could finally have a balancing act!! A great leadup to this bigger enemy, with a twist at the end - like how ATLA did it with Ozai, with Aang refusing to kill him and instead taking away his bending!! The outcome wasn’t expected, but it still led to the same ending, with a better meaning behind it because it didn’t force Aang outside of his boundaries!! But...LoK didn’t have that. It was “Here’s this sketchy guy, we all Know he’s sketchy, but LOOK, THE TWIST IS THAT HE’S SKETCHY!! BUT ON A MORE EXTREME LEVEL!! Haha!!”

The only thing that LoK managed to twist was the lore of the world, by expanding on the Avatar, how it came to be, and by introducing a spirit of EQUAL POWER to the Avatar. I love Wan’s and Raava’s story, that isn’t my problem with this twist. My problem lies in the fact that Vaatu was merely made to be the Evil Avatar Spirit, in a world where balance and equality mean everything. I think Vaatu being the spirit of Chaos and Darkness would’ve been so cool to explore, if the creators had time to explore him - because Chaos and Darkness aren’t evil, they’re nature. What is morality anyway to a spirit?? Why make an Evil Spirit?? Why not explore WHY Vaatu is the way he is rather than say he just is??

Does that mean that Tui and La are merely good and evil, then?? They’re supposed to represent Yin and Yang, quite literally. Is Tui, the moon, evil simply because they can only thrive in the darkness?? Is La evil, because the sea is unrestrained and takes innocent lives, being a chaotic force?? Shouldn’t Tui and La be CLOSE, or at least GRATEFUL to Vaatu for giving them the darkness they need to remain balanced?? I don’t know too much else about the spirit gods in Avatar, so idk if there’s a Spirit of the Night, but my point still stands - the moon can’t prosper without darkness, and the ocean needs the moon. How can that be constrained to an idea as simple as “evil”??

Was La in the wrong or the in the right for destroying those fire nation ships, for taking control of Aang, for taking Zuko’s crew away from him after their other half died??

I just think that the world of ATLA/ALoK would have been so much better if Vaatu wasn’t just...Evil Bad Guy Spirit. The balancing act would’ve been restored if there are two Avatars (and Raava should be seen as something that can become Too Much - too much light, too much serenity/complacency, too much order means that there’s no room for self-identity, chance, risk, and the ability to look inward. If Raava can go too far, but be held back by their Avatar, then why can’t the same be held for Vaatu??). For a world that says that balance and equality is the true guide to peace, it seems really, really desperate to keep only one Avatar.

Vaatu would have been an excellent twist, if he just wasn’t so one-sided, and if it was anyone else but goddamn Unalaq.

That being said, I think Tui, La, and Vaatu (and maybe Wan Shi Tong, that giant Owl bitch) would’ve been/should be Ride or Die.

#Vaatu #Avatar #avatar: the legend of korra #avatar: the last airbender #Vaatu Headcanons #Lamenting the fact that I dislike ALoK despite trying so hard to love it #FUCK THE MCU AND TONY STARK THIS IS NOW A MULTIFANDOM ACCOUNT #No shame in having 20+ fixations!!#This is mainly me complaining about the writing choices used for Korra but also #This is me pointing the potential in Vaatu #BITCH GIVEN THE CHANCE I WOULD BE A DARK AVATAR #MY EYES WOULD GLOW RED!!! THATS SICK AS FUCK!!#ATLA #ALoK #I read Avatar fics for 3 days straight and YES it was mainly Zukka

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crimeronan · 2 months

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writing princess AU eda's relationship with luz is becoming increasingly hilarious. she's so convinced that hunter is A Problem (TM) for luz, with absolutely ZERO EVIDENCE. eda like "do you want me to kill that guy for you?? because it sounds like he sucks and i will totally kill that guy for you" while luz is like "....i have.... literally never said anything negative about him.......?"

eda talking to raine like "damn it seems like the golden guard sucks. do you want to kill that guy" and raine like "eda. i cannot express enough to you that that is Also a baby,"

#much 2 consider.#the reason i havent finished the fic yet is bc im still figuring out the exact shape of the last chapter. but. much 2 consider.#there's a good chance it'll involve hunter and luz having a fight & then luz accidentally crying about it in the owl house #to which eda is like. you REALLY aren't going to let me have hooty eat him????????#hunter voice: i literally only want whatever is best for luz #eda voice: yeah okay belos dad 2.0. pound sand #toh #princess luz au #eda clawthorne #horrible mindscape trauma pals

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beardedjoel · 10 months

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closer | part eight

joel x f!reader. non-apocalypse au

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3

chapter summary: slowly but surely your relationship with joel is growing, and much to your surprise, he’s acting more like a boyfriend than you would have expected. 8.2k words.

chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI, age difference (joel is 42 and reader is 25), soft!dom joel, joel being so boyfriend this chapter, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, rough sex, implied masturbation?, relationship feels ~

a/n: thank you all so much for the love on this story, it makes me so excited to keep writing for you all <3 i absolutely love this chapter so much i’m beyond feral for joel

Joel rolls over and glances your way, watching the peaceful expression on your face as you sleep. He sighs, looking at the gentle rise and fall of your chest for a few moments. You’re sprawled out, laying on your side with one leg flung over in his direction and the other almost hanging off the bed, and your hands tucked under the pillow, cradling them near your face. You look properly passed out, getting the rest you deserve after the way you took his cock last night.

He’s finding that despite the deep, tiring satisfaction he felt, he couldn’t get back to sleep. The urge to curl you up into his arms hit him, and he debates it for a moment, worried about waking you up, before reaching over and wrapping an arm around you and across your back. You stir only slightly, scrunching your brow a little bit before snuggling into him and drifting back off. Joel smiles unabashedly at how adorable it was, fighting the desire to wake you up by gently kissing every part of your face and running his hands over your body.

You’d been so happy when he said you should stay the night - he could see the way your eyes lit up even though you’d tried to control your face as much as you could. It made his heart ache, the way you got excited about being with him, the sweet look you’d had when he made you dinner last night, like you can’t believe that someone would do that for you. He wanted to see that look every time he did something for you, to keep surprising you and treating you like nobody else did. It was intoxicating just to be laying with you, and even more so to recall how you were so… open with him in this same bed just hours ago. So fucking sexy, so willing to be his.

He admitted to himself that half the reason he couldn’t sleep right now was just how willing you were, and that worried him. He felt a little guilt and a twinge of sadness when you’d described this thing between you two as casual. He couldn’t give you anything but that, he knew, without screwing up your life. What would a 25 year old just starting her life be doing stuck with someone like him? You’d only be ruining things for yourself, he thought. Maybe you’d meet someone right for you and start your life at some point, but the selfish part of him wasn’t letting you go just yet when you look so perfect like this in his arms right now.

He decides to give in to the urge he was having and kiss the top of your head, working his way down to your forehead. You let out a sleepy, mumbling sound, twitching a bit as you come to.

“Morning,” Joel says quietly, kissing one of your still closed eyelids. A small, tired chuckle exhales from your nose and you peek the same eye open at him.

“Grouchy when woken up, remember?” you mumble, your voice a little hoarse with sleep.

“I can probably fix that,” Joel says, positioning himself on top of you now and kissing you neck. You inhale more sharply, your body responding quickly by arching into him a little bit. Joel roams his lips downwards, flicking his tongue along the curve of your breast, then inward towards your nipple. You’re in a half conscious state and this almost feels dream-like, feeling his lips and tongue exploring across you, down your stomach, then kissing the top of your sex. Joel’s body nudges your legs apart and he settles himself between them.

“Joel…” you moan quietly as his tongue flicks right at the top of your slit, then slides downwards. He licks softly, and it feels perfect as you drift in and out of consciousness still, your body relaxed under his mouth as he laps up all the wetness you’re giving him.

“Tastes so perfect, baby,” he mutters, and you almost don’t hear him from under the sheet, so you pull it down a little over your body. The warmth of his mouth being so delicate on you right now quickly builds a tingling sensation right in your core, and before you even realize, you’re gently jolted awake with the rolling waves of pleasure going through you as you climax. You whimper as your hips shudder lightly into his mouth, quiet moans slipping out of your lips until your orgasm subsides. You relax back completely into the bed as Joel lays next to you again.

“Much less grouchy now,” you slur a bit with the combination of sleepiness and the post-orgasm cloudiness in your mind.

“Good girl,” Joel coos. “Get some more sleep.” You feel a light kiss on top of your head before you slip away again.

When your eyes open next, you’re alone in Joel’s bed, completely tangled up in the sheets. The sunlight is streaming in more brightly now, and you see you must have gotten a few more hours of sleep. You roll over and stretch out a bit, then sit up and glance around the room. You smile when you see Joel has carefully draped your dress and underwear over a chair for you, and it grows when you see he’s also left a t-shirt of his right next to your clothing for you. You slip out from the sheets and pad over to the chair, sliding the oversized Texas themed shirt over your head and looking down at it. You lift the collar up to your nose and breathe in - fuck, this smells so much like him you feel like he’s wrapped around you.

You walk into the bathroom to pee, and you notice a packaged toothbrush set out on the counter. Your mouth hangs open for a moment, touching the box gently, before you break out into another small smile to yourself. Had he really been thoughtful enough to leave this out for you?

You quickly brush your teeth and try to fix your hair to the best of your ability, but not before getting a good laugh at it in the mirror - it looked like you did exactly what you did last night.

Now that you aren’t in a rush up to the bedroom like last night, you walk slowly down the hallway leading to the stairs, inspecting all the random art and photos hung on the walls. Many of them are family photos, or fishing, nature, hiking, that type of thing. Once you’re at the stairs, the smell of coffee and cooking food hits your nose and you try to quietly tiptoe down the stairs, feeling a little awkward.

Joel’s in the kitchen, standing at the stove with a mug of coffee in one hand, and a spatula in the other. He has on just a white tee shirt and athletic shorts, and he looks over mid yawn to see you walking in.

“Was just about to come wake ya for breakfast,” he says, your favorite lopsided smile on his face again. “Man, look at you,” he sighs, his eyes giving you a once over as you wear only his shirt. You give him a shy smile as you approach closer, then wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your body to the side of him. He turns off the stove, seeing that the eggs are ready and then faces you, pressing your body against the counter.

“Good morning,” you say quietly. “Did I dream you tried to wake me up by going down on me?”

Joel chuckles, a satisfied smirk on his face. “You’ll never know now, will you?”

Your eyebrow curves up and you shake your head a little. “Well, it was much appreciated,” you tell him with a wry smile.

“Oh, you’re welcome,” he replies, leaning down to kiss you again. “C’mon, let’s eat.” He guides you by the hips to sit at the kitchen counter before sliding you a mug of coffee and a plate with a fried egg and toast on it. You lick your lips, already salivating and realizing just how hungry you are after last night.

“Want anythin’ in your coffee?�� Joel asks as he serves a plate for himself.

“Usually I have those fancy flavored creamers,” you laugh a little, “But just milk and sugar is fine.” Joel nods as if he’s taking a mental note, and pulls out milk and sugar for you. He pulls a stool to the other side of the island so he can sit across from you while you two eat. He can’t seem to stop smiling while he watches you splash milk into your coffee and stir in a spoonful of sugar.

“What?” you finally ask, a sarcastic bite to your tone.

“Nothin’, you just look mighty good in my shirt, sittin’ at my counter after I fucked you half the night.”

“Joel…” you gasp a little, looking down at your plate suddenly. A smile spreads across your face as you soak in his words, reliving the sexy moments you two shared yesterday. “Thanks for breakfast,” you say.

“Of course,” Joel says, still not taking his eyes off of you with a smile on his face. “Hey, I wanna ask you something.”

“Okay, sure.” You feel a little nervous pit in your stomach start to grow at his words.

“On July Fourth I usually have a cookout here. D’you think you’d want to come? And your parents? Feels weird not to invite them if you’re comin’.” Joel takes a bite of his food and watches you curiously, waiting for your answer.

“Oh, yeah, of course I’d want to come. My parents would probably be thrilled you invited them.” The nervous pit in your stomach continues as you think about being with them at the same party as Joel. You’re really not sure just how apparent it is on your face that you’re completely infatuated with this man.

Joel’s face lights up a little. “Good, I’ll invite ‘‘em then,” he says. “Mostly lookin’ forward to having you there, though.”

“Oh really?” you smile a little. “Even if you can’t touch me? Or kiss me?”

Joel frowns a little. “Only downside to being sneaky, huh? We’ll just have to take care of things beforehand then, won’t we?”

You shoot your eyebrows up a little at him. “Is that so?”

“Got plenty of spots we can have a quick fuck before the party starts,” he says, his voice going down a little lower as he looks at you from under his eyebrows with a smug grin. He moves off his stool and approaches you, his tall form looking down at you as you stay seated. “But for right now, I don’t have to take my time,” he breathes out, wrapping his arms around you as you turn on the chair towards him.

You try to stand and meet him, but Joel grips you as soon as you lift yourself off the stool, and hauls you up so that you’re sitting on the counter. He steps between your legs, leaning down to kiss you deeply. You moan at the sensation as his tongue dips into your mouth and starts to hungrily take in the way you’re kissing him back. His hand splays onto your thigh, slowly working its way up, and finally pushing underneath the hem of his t-shirt that you’re wearing. You arch a little into it, the anticipation already eating you alive as you feel your clit aching for him from just this small touch. As he reaches right between your thighs, his breath hitches for a moment and he pulls his lips off of yours.

“Fuck, you’re not wearing any underwear?” he murmurs as his fingers sink further and feel in between your folds. You move your hips a little into it, grinding onto his hand and squeezing your legs around him.

“Thought you might enjoy that.” You smirk, going back to kiss him more. He gives an approving noise as his mouth opens for yours again, kissing you while he rubs his fingers around your clit in slow circles.

“So wet already, sweet girl. Do I really do all that to ya?” He says as he continues exploring between your legs with his fingers.

You nod, eyes half closed with desire as you meet his stare. “Mhm, everything you do gets me wet,” you tell him.

“Want me to make you come right now?” he says, tantalizingly low and seductive. It’s already making you feel so damn needy for him.

“Mhm,” you breathe out again. Joel uses his other hand to grip your chin, holding your stare.

“Be a good girl and ask nicely,” he says quietly, refusing to up the pace on his fingers and dragging them up your slit excruciatingly slow. It’s enough to make you feel like going crazy, so close to a release, but the way he’s teasing can’t get you there.

“Wh-“ you try to ask, a shudder going through your body at the crazed need you’re feeling for him interrupting your sentence as he tightens his grip with the hand that’s resting on your hip.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” he asks, a new and unfamiliar bite to his voice, but you find a new throb pulsing in your already aching clit at the way he’s being so… dominating right now.

You shake your head quickly. “N-no, Joel. Please make me come, please,” you beg, the last word barely a whisper as your hips are absolutely writhing under his hand.

“There you go, sweet girl,” he groans out, pressing his body close to the counter and moving his fingers a little faster before sinking a finger inside of you and pushing it all the way in, going immediately for where he knows you want him most. He presses right on the perfect spot, and circles your clit in tight circles with his thumb. You yell out at the sudden sensation, hips bucking forward into it and you cling onto Joel’s shoulders.

“I’m close already, oh god I’m so close, Joel,” you manage to say in between your whimpers for him.

“Makin’ it too easy on me, baby,” Joel groans with a satisfied smile, his fingers threatening to slow up their movements.

“Don’t stop,” you pant, before adding a quick “please.”

He doesn’t stop, but instead pushes a second finger in and you moan loudly as they both press in on your g-spot at the same time. You make a pitiful, groaning sound as you feel your climax right there, like you’re right on the edge, about to fall off. Joel leans down and bites onto your shoulder lightly, then trails his mouth to your hard nipple, sucking on it and giving it a light bite through your shirt. That completely does you in and you yell his name as your orgasm rolls through you, hips shuddering onto his hand, covering him with your slickness while your cunt tightens around his fingers.

“Fuck… fuck, Joel, my god,” you cry out as the waves of pleasure keep hitting you for longer than usual. The pressure on your g-spot isn’t going anywhere, Joel’s fingers still pressing periodically on it, helping you ride through the aftershocks of your climax.

“Your god,” he teases, his voice rumbling onto your nipple as he pulls his mouth off briefly.

“Yes,” you reply, breathless, as you begin coming down from everything. You take a moment to regain control of your breathing, but you want more from him already - you need to feel what you felt last night. “More,” you say quietly, reaching forward to tug on Joel’s athletic shorts. Joel’s hand cups his bulge, rubbing it slightly and he lets out a little groan.

“This is what you want, huh?” he teases you, gripping his cock a little tighter. You feel your thighs want to clench together with need just seeing him clutching the outline of his large shaft. Your eyes can’t tear away from that spot as you breathe out a yes for him.

“Need to feel you inside me again,” you say, sliding your hands into the sides of his waistband, pulling down, and he lets you. His hand moves off of his cock, allowing his shorts to pull down over it and expose the length of him to you. Your eyes harden a bit with determination, ready to take him in his entirety again. You slide your hips forward urgently, resting yourself right at the head of his cock. Joel smirks at you and grabs under your hips, his fingers digging in as he anchors you to the counter. He’s hesitating and it’s making you crazy, so you grab his face, and attack his lips with yours, giving him urgent, passionate kisses.

“Baby, I don’t have a condom,” he says right into your lips, and you know he’s right to try and be responsible, but you couldn’t give two shits right now. You want his cock, to feel all of him sliding in and out of you, filling you with his cum.

“I don’t care,” you say, brushing your lips on his again. “I’m on birth control, and I would have told you already if I’m not clean,” you mumble out, desperately writhing your hips against his cock. He still pauses for a moment longer, seeming to debate it. “Please, Joel, I want to feel your cum leaking out of me after you fuck me senseless. I need it.” You’re whining, you know, but Joel likes it when you’re this desperate for him, begging for any part of him.

He doesn’t say anything yet, but he speaks volumes when he thrusts his hips forward, his cock pushing inside of you suddenly. You gasp at the feeling of him entering you and groan out pleasured noises as he pumps in and out a few times, pushing his cock further each time. You’re still sore from yesterday, so this is a new sensation, to have him re-stretching the already sensitive spot, but it’s only heightening the experience for you.

“Oh yeah? Want me to come deep in that pussy, huh?” he finally answers your words from moments ago.

“All I want,” you manage to get out despite the way you’re being completely undone right now. His fingers dig harder into your hips, pulling you to him with each fast, hard thrust of his body. You clutch onto his shoulders, pulling yourself even deeper onto him.

“Lemme see you play with yourself,” Joel says suddenly, glancing in between your bodies at the way his is connecting with yours. One of his hands leaves your hip and pinches your nipple through your shirt, sending your eyes fluttering a little bit. You quickly slide your hand down, landing it on your pulsing, aching clit and beginning to rub.

“That’s it, baby, make yourself feel good while you take my cock like this,” he says, unable to tear his eyes away from the way your finger is now rubbing quickly on yourself. You extend the reach of your fingers, letting one graze along his cock every time it pulls out of you.

“Oh, sweet girl, you’re doin’ things to me with the way you’re movin’ that hand.” Joel sounds more desperate, his movements more frantic as you continue circling your clit and feel the tingling, pleasant build up of your climax inside of your core.

“My cock hungry, cum hungry little thing, you want that so bad don’t you? Tryna make me come so hard into your little pussy,” he punches out, grunts filling the spaces between his words while he thrusts himself into you. His words bring out another moan from you, trying to push your body closer despite the little space left to close between you two.

“Fuck, Joel, I’m gonna come,” you cry out suddenly, feeling your climax overtake you with one perfect movement of your finger on yourself combined with Joel’s words. You’re leaning your head into his chest, moaning loudly as you feel every bit of pleasure rocking through you while you tense up around him.

“F-fucking sweet girl,” Joel chokes out, his hips starting to buck forward quickly. “Gonna come deep inside you just like you want,” he says, and then he follows through on his word, pushing himself all the way inside of you where the warmth of him spills into you.

“Oh yes, fuck yes,” you whimper as you feel how deep he is, how undone he looks by your cunt squeezing around his cock, and the way it feels to know his cum is filling you. You’re still brushing your finger over your clit, and before you realize, another climax is working its way through you, less intense this time, but still mind boggling compared to anything else you've had. You shudder onto Joel as he’s finishing his climax, and he rides you through it, stroking your hair.

“That’s it, come again for me baby, so, so good,” he murmurs close to your ear. You finally relax your tense muscles and lean back from him slightly, trying to catch your breath. You look him in the eyes and he peers back at your glassy, just-fucked expression and feels a joyful tightness fill his chest, knowing he’s the one making you feel like this.

“I have terrible news,” Joel says suddenly, sliding out of you. You almost whine out loud at the sudden emptiness inside of you. You look at him, bewildered, waiting for him to go on.

“I’ve gotta go to work soon,” he tells you, and you frown dramatically at him. He brushes his hand along your hair, tucking it behind your ear. “Wanna hang out while I get ready?”

You nod and your smile lights up a bit, ready to see Joel in his element at home. You follow him back upstairs where he invites you into his shower, and you shyly agree.

“I can’t believe I’m sayin’ this, but if you're gettin’ in here with me there’s no funny business. I’m already runnin’ behind,” he says as he strips off his shirt and tosses it onto the bathroom floor.

“You sure you can handle that?” you ask wryly, standing with your back leaned on the counter across from the shower.

“Me? I’m more worried about you, baby,” he smirks.

“I can handle it,” you say with an indignant tone, putting your nose up in the air a bit more to show you’re serious. Joel simply lifts his eyebrows at you and peels off his shorts and briefs in one motion, piling them with his shirt on the floor. You swallow at the sight of his half hard cock right in front of you.

“That’s not fair,” you say, frowning and starting to pull up the shirt he gave you off of your body.

“What’s not fair, huh?” Joel’s eyes roam over your now naked body, and you swear you see his cock get harder out of the corner of your eye.

“You’re practically hard, and I’m supposed to be adhering to no funny business?” you exclaim, following him into the shower.

“Can’t blame me if showerin’ with a beautiful girl gets my cock a little hard, can you?” he says with a little laugh. You roll your eyes and step under the warm water with him, but you make a little noise in agreement to what he said nonetheless.

“This’ll be good practice, for the times we’re in the same room and not able to fool around,” he says, winking at you as he lathers up a washcloth for you two to use. The thought of smelling like Joel’s soap all day makes your heart leap a little bit, and you smile to yourself lost in that thought for a brief moment.

“Don’t remind me.” You frown. “I’m not looking forward to it.”

Joel turns you around and starts lathering your back with the washcloth, then working his way down your arms. “I promise I’ll more than make up for it when we can,” he responds, and you can practically hear the satisfied little smile he has at the thought. You feel heat building in your core and try to stuff it down.

“Mmm,” you moan a little as he moves along your back, “You can’t be saying stuff like that.”

Joel huffs a little but continues sudsing you, bending down to work the washcloth all the way down your body. When he goes in between your legs with it, sliding up your thigh, he peers up at you with his eyebrows raised, and you dutifully ignore his attempt to try and get your attention.

He stands back up, and adds more soap to the washcloth, starting to clean himself. “Good girl, resisting me,” he says with a smirk and you tense your jaw, grinding your teeth a little to take the edge off. You decide to distract yourself and squeeze a dollop of shampoo into your hands and reach up, beginning to work it through Joel’s hair. He looks slightly surprised at first, but he melts into it quickly, letting out a small, pleasured groan.

“Oh, sweet girl, you’re too good to me,” he mumbles as you scrub his scalp slowly. You can see in your periphery his dick has only seemed to get harder, and it’s becoming painful to ignore it, but you steady yourself and focus on this other form of intimacy you’re trying to give to him.

“Rinse,” you say gently, tilting his head back underneath the stream of water and combing the suds out of his hair with your fingers before adding some conditioner for him. He just silently enjoys the process with his eyes closed and it makes you smile, being able to make him happy in some way that doesn’t involve anything inherently sexual.

Once you’re done washing his hair, he wraps his arms around you and holds you under the stream of water with him for a few moments before turning the shower off. He kisses the top of your head, dripping water onto your face.

“Here,” he says, handing you a fresh, fluffy towel, and you wrap it around your shoulders, snuggling yourself underneath it. It smells so good, like Joel, like his home, and you wish this scent could just envelop you all hours of the day. Joel purses his lips in a side smile at the sight of you wrapped up the way you are.

“You’re cute, y’know that?” he comments as he quickly attempts to fix his hair in the mirror, his eyes meeting yours through his reflection.

You let out a small scoff and pop your hip a bit. “Cute, huh?”

“You can be cute and the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen at the same time, you know,” he replies, sensing your being offended at being reduced to cute, like you’re some kind of kid.

“W-what?”’ you stammer out, completely blindsided by him calling you the sexiest woman he’s ever seen. There’s no way that’s possibly true, right? Joel is already on his way out of the bathroom, as if he said something completely casual, standing at his dresser with just the towel around his waist. You stand in the doorway, drying yourself off still as you watch him, still stunned.

“What?” he asks, seeming genuinely confused. He’s pulled on a pair of briefs and is working a pair of jeans up his legs now.

“What you just said, Joel.” You know your tone is much more serious now, but you feel a dull roaring in your ears you can’t ignore as you mull over if Joel could truly mean what he said.

You see him turn slowly towards you, standing shirtless as a wide smile creeps onto his face. “Baby, you really don’t believe that?”

“I believe that you would just say that to me to keep me falling at your feet or something,” you drop the towel on the counter and cross your arms, suddenly feeling irritation rise up at him. He stares for a long moment, his eyes looking your body up from your feet and then resting on your own eyes.

“Oh, darlin’, you should know,” he says, taking a few steps towards you. “I don’t say anything I don’t mean,” he continues, almost reaching where you stand frozen now. “Especially when it comes to someone like you.” He leans down and brushes his lips against yours lightly, not allowing a full kiss to form between you.

“S-someone like me?” you ask, feeling a little shaky now.

“Yes, someone like you, sweetheart,” he says, his towering form now standing against you. You slowly lower your arms to your sides, and he puts a finger on your chin, tilting it up, assessing you with narrowed eyes. “If you could see what I see...”

You want to throw yourself on him, kiss the life out of him, and simultaneously push him away for how much he makes you feel for him. Nobody has ever said anything like this to you before, and you think you actually believe him. This isn’t just a ploy to keep you around, eating out of the palm of his hand, he really thinks you’re the sexiest woman he’s ever seen. The thought is absolutely mind boggling, and you feel gratitude washing over you that things have worked out like this with Joel.

“I… I believe you now,” you squeak out. “It was just hard to believe when I’m… well,” you shrug, not sure how to complete the sentence. He glares at you, but only out of frustration that you aren’t seeming to understand what he’s telling you.

“Guess I’ll just have to make it more clear for you, baby,” he says, but noting the time, he steps back slightly. “Next time I see you. And all the times after that.”

You don’t have any plans to see Joel tonight, so you decide to spend some time with your parents. You feel like you’ve been neglecting them, completely thinking with your pussy these days, so they’re glad to hear you wanting to have dinner and watch something together. They go on about how excited they are to have Joel start working on the bathrooms and you remain as neutral as possible, stating it’ll be nice to have things freshened up in there.

“We’re so lucky to have him next door,” your mom fawns, and your dad nods in agreement.

“Can’t get more lucky than a contractor next to a house that needs work,” he says.

“Also, he’s so handsome, don’t you think?” your mom asks, turning to you as takes a bite off of her fork. You pause, maybe for too long, but know you have to say something.

“I… guess…” you choke out, trying to will your cheeks not to color. Why the hell does your mom want to know if you think Joel is handsome? It’s likely that she’s just trying to make conversation, but the chance that they suspect something sends a quick, intense wave of nausea through your stomach.

“Beth, you’re making her uncomfortable,” your dad chides her with an amused look.

“I’m just saying, he’s a good looking man, and he lives all alone in that house. It’s just odd that he doesn’t have someone at his age.” She shrugs, frowning a little bit.

“People have all kinds of reasons not to be romantically involved with someone, mom,” you say, trying to remind her to think outside of the box and avoid any suspicion from them at the same time.

Your mom considers it and nods a little. “Yeah, true, it just struck me, I guess. He’s a very sweet guy,” she concludes, and you hate to say that her words are sticking with you. Why is Joel single? He’s obviously a catch - charming and attractive, and very good at pleasuring a woman. He also has a kind, helpful soul on top of it all, and it’s mind boggling now that you think about it that he’s not been snatched up by someone. You fight the pre-emptive jealousy of whoever that might be someday, thinking it couldn’t possibly be you.

You spent the rest of the night in a little bit of a blur, heavily considering this new string of thoughts you’re attaching yourself to. It’s late, and you head back to your apartment yawning after watching a movie with your parents. Your phone buzzes on your bathroom counter while you brush your teeth and you reach over, smiling to see it’s from Joel. He hasn’t been very communicative today, and you yet again didn’t want to seem too clingy, so you hung back from messaging him anything despite your fingers itching all day to pick up your phone.

Joel: Hey baby, how was your day?

You feel a tug on your heart as you carefully read over each word from him.

You: Just okay, I was feeling tired most of the day. Seems like I didn’t get enough sleep ;)

Joel: I have a feeling that might end up being a problem for us

You: Not a bad problem to have 😏

You: How was your day?

Joel: Long… crazy work day

You: Could I make it better?

Joel: I’m pretty beat, what did you have in mind sweet girl?

You: Hold please...

You scramble out of your bathroom, once again sifting through your underwear drawer to find just the right pieces for what you’re going for. A lacy, sheer black bra and matching thong catch your eye and you quickly shed your pajamas, changing into those instead. You learned from last time you sent Joel dirty photos what poses and angles seemed to look good for you, so you hold your phone at a slight angle, catching both your cleavage and body down to your panties in the shot as you perch yourself on your bed with your legs tucked under you. It’s a very innocent, yet sexy pose with your legs slightly open, and you have a hopeful feeling it’ll make him absolutely crazy. Several minutes later you’re shooting Joel a text with the photo attached.

Joel: Oh sweet girl…

Joel: Now what am I supposed to do with that, huh?

You: I just want you to relax after a long day and come to that photo, imagining yourself between my legs, fucking me like you did last night

Joel: Fuck, baby, you look so hot

Joel: You manage to look more perfect every time I look at the pic

Me: Are you touching yourself yet?

Joel: Naughty thing, of course I am

Me: Feel free to reference that any time you miss me

Several minutes go by, and you wait for any update from Joel, biting your lip nervously. Finally, your phone pings on the bed in front of you.

Joel: Thank you, baby. Just what I needed

You smile, feeling warmth swell in your chest that you were able to make his day somewhat better. You stifle another yawn, realizing just how late it is combined with your lack of sleep from last night.

Joel: Good behavior will be rewarded 😉

You: Looking forward to it

Joel: Get some sleep, we both need it

You: Goodnight 😘

The next morning, you get an email from your new job, which gives you an official start date about a month and a half from now, and you smile eagerly as you read through the details. You’ve been loving all this down time, but you kept extremely busy during your years at school, so it feels odd to not be as productive as you’re used to. You’re trying to enjoy it while it lasts, though, knowing that there’s going to be a lot of details to work out once you start working at such a brand new company. They’ve even sent along some things you can start working on for them marketing wise, and you’re glad to have a distraction for a while.

You stretch your neck, leaning back from your keyboard a while later as your phone buzzes. You see a text from Sofia, confirming details of her visit to see you coming up, and it makes you smile, unable to believe you’ll be seeing her so shortly. You are definitely feeling the urge for much needed girl time with her. The other text is from Joel, who you know is well into his work day right now. He’s asking you to meet up with him on his lunch break, and while you’re excited he wants to see you, it’s not a message you were expecting at all. You hastily reply to confirm the plan, asking him where to meet and when. He says a park nearby where he works, and you can’t help but feel like this might be your first semblance of a date together. You immediately scold yourself for even thinking it, replacing the thought quickly with the fact that he probably just needs to get off or something.

You put on something casual, jean shorts and a cropped t-shirt before heading out to meet Joel. He’s waiting for you, leaning against the side of his truck when you pull into the parking lot next to the park. He looks a little worn down, but still so good, in a shirt that shows off his muscled arms and dark wash jeans. He looks up from his phone and smiles crookedly once he notices you parking next to him.

He greets you right as you open your car door and stand up with a deep, toe-curling kiss while he leans you back into your car. You moan a little into the unexpected but welcome passion behind it.

“Hey, baby,” Joel says, finally pulling his mouth off of you.

“Hey,” you say, eyes wide and mind still digesting what the flurry of Joel that just happened to you. It felt so fucking good to kiss him in public like this, where nobody knows who you two are or that anything needs to be hidden about this. He reaches forward, taking your hands into his and squeezing them both. “What the hell is going on, Joel?” you laugh a little.

“I missed ya, simple as that,” he says with a shrug, dropping one of your hands but holding onto the other as he leads you over to his truck where a cooler sits in the bed of it. He grabs it, continuing to lead you along, and truthfully, you’d follow him anywhere after a kiss like that. You two settle onto a nearby bench, the cooler perched on the ground below Joel’s feet. He pulls out several sandwiches, then various vegetables with hummus, two sodas, and two waters.

“Thought you might like your hummus, and I didn’t know if you drink soda, so… I brought both,” he explains as you stare at him placing all of these items on the bench in between you.

“You packed all of this before even asking me to meet you?” you ask. Your heart clenches unbelievably tight at him once again being so thoughtful.

“Had a feeling you’d say yes,” he replies with his lips twisted into a little smirk, and you press yours together, fighting the huge smile that’s forcing its way onto your face. You hate it when he’s so right about you like this.

“Yeah, I suppose that’s fair,” you quip back, reaching for the vegetables first. “Today any better so far?” you ask him, dipping a carrot in some hummus and biting down on it.

Joel considers for a moment. “Much better now,” he says, looking you up and down quickly. “And after last night.” His eyes flash a hint of desire at the recollection and you bite your lip, slightly embarrassed to be talking about your sexy photos in the light of day. You just look down at your lap where you’re currently staying hyper focused on the next dip of your carrot in the container of hummus. Joel leans forward, which catches your attention enough to look up and into his dark brown eyes.

“Next time, take it with nothing on at all, baby,” he half whispers, and your eyes widen slightly as your lips part, unable to respond.

“Uh, noted,” you finally say, cracking a smile.

“Atta girl,” he says, offering you a wink. A few comfortably silent moments pass as you two eat your lunch together before Joel speaks again. “What’s goin’ on with you, hm?” he asks, tilting his head curiously.

“I actually got to work this morning,” you say brightly, “I got an email from the start-up with some stuff I can start working on, so I’m officially on the payroll.”

Joel smiles brightly back at you. “That’s great,” he says, and you get the sense that he’s truly happy for you, his eyes shining with a bit of pride and excitement. “You one of those workaholics though? I’m never gonna see you again?”

You scoff lightly and laugh. “No! Well, maybe a little bit. But I just like being busy. You may not think so, only seeing me lounge around my parents’ house for the last few weeks, but I swear I’m a hard worker. I just needed a break.”

“Don’t have to defend yourself to me, baby,” Joel says sincerely, looking completely unbothered. “Y’know I like you just the way you are. You do what you need to do.”

You ponder his words for a moment as you chew on a bite of the sandwich Joel made for you. “Thanks… really,” you tell him. It’s not often you hear those words thrown your way, that someone likes you just as you are, and it shoots a warm but painful feeling deep down into you that he might really think that way about you.

“Hey… can I ask you something?” you ask, much more timidly now. It’s now or never, you think to yourself.

“Shoot.”

“This might sound weird, or accusatory, or something, so I’m sorry, but… why are you single?” You immediately regret saying it, but your mom really got in your head last night and you knew you’d be pondering the possibilities endlessly until you got the guts to just ask him. You’d even gone so far as to consider him having a secret family that lived in another house, and he only lived next to you part of the time while his wife and kids lived on unsuspecting of his infidelity. It was not your proudest moment in the middle of the night last night, you think upon reflection.

A look of true surprise flashes across Joel’s features before he returns back to neutrality. “First off, you continue to do nothin’ but surprise me,” he laughs a little, “But secondly, it just happened, I s’pose. Had a pretty long relationship a few years back, but since then, I had to focus on work, growin’ this business with Tommy when we were at our most busy, so it’s just ended up this way.”

“I see…” you say, treading carefully, finding it hard to look him directly in the eye right now. “How long? The relationship, I mean,” you finally add. You hear Joel let out a small, scoffing laugh, but he answers you anyways.

“A few years. Five, to be exact. It’s old news, though.”

“Old news…” you say quietly, fidgeting with your hands. Pushing down the jealousy towards this ex-girlfriend who had Joel wholly to herself for five fucking years, you try to compose yourself.

“Yes, darlin’, old news.” He smirks when you catch his eye. “You jealous, sweet girl?”

“Wh- no. I’m not jealous. Just… curious,” you lie.

Joel lifts an eyebrow but accepts your lie for now. “Whatever you say,” he tells you, looking smug.

“What if I was…?” you dare to ask, your voice unable to go higher than a mumble.

“If you were… I’d tell you that I’ve never come so hard to a photo of anyone as I did to that one of you last night, darlin’.” His eyes look right into yours, no hint of deception or over exaggeration in them at all. It makes the breath feel like it’s been sucked right out of you as you lose yourself into the beautiful, dark color of his irises.

“That’s supposed to make me not jealous if I was?” you say with a hint of sass in your tone.

“It should. You do somethin’ to me, angel,” Joel says casually, as if it’s not the big confession you’re taking it as. His use of this new pet name catches you off guard as well, and you feel like a fish popping your mouth open and closed, trying to find the right words to reply. Joel’s face suddenly turns from sweet to devious when he notices your reaction.

“What? You liked that new name, huh?” he asks, a cocky, confident grin on his face that makes you feel even more embarrassed that you still don’t know how to act in front of him half the time. You try to nod, but Joel catches your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him. “Do you?” he asks more sternly.

“Yes,” you breathe out. “I- I like anything you call me,” you say, your chest heaving slightly at the sudden intensity of the moment.

“Good, angel,” he says with a knowing wink as he releases your chin. You feel on the verge of shaking just from that small interaction, and you know with finality that Joel has the ability to undo and redo you a million times over in any given moment, a power no man should have over you, and yet you just can’t help yourself. He’s officially wormed his way into your head in a permanent way, taking over your thoughts, your actions, everything. You hate the word obsessed, but you can’t seem to find another way to describe the way you crave being around him, wishing to know everything about him, having him buried deep inside you any chance you get.

Despite the way that moment threw you off completely, you manage to have a relatively normal conversation for the rest of your lunch together. You ask Joel about what his contracting company is currently working on, and it’s more projects than you’d have expected. You’re proud of him for managing it all so well with Tommy, and how successful they are in the area. He wants to know more about why you chose to work in the field you do, and you don’t necessarily have a good answer other than you chose marketing because you like the creativity it allows you while being able to feel like you’re helping people in some way. Joel seems to like that answer, commenting that his first impression of you aside from the physical attraction he had was that you always seemed like a polite, helpful girl. It makes your cheeks fill with warmth, of course, remembering the first conversation you had with him where he pointed out that same thing. Joel’s eyes glance at his watch suddenly and he groans, announcing with a grumble that he has to get back to work.

“No poutin’ now,” he warns as he pulls his lips off of yours at your car when he says his goodbye.

“I’m not,” you retort, but in a whiny tone that isn’t helping your case.

“I’m serious,” he says, “Don’t make it harder for me to leave than it already is.” He’s got his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you tightly, his fingers tracing absentminded movements along your hips and back.

You nod, but you wet and then bite your lip and Joel’s eyes flick down to your mouth, followed by him taking a long inhale. “Stop,” he demands, but you widen your eyes and tilt your head to the side.

“Or what?” you tease, wetting your lips another time.

“Don’t be a brat,” he grinds out, and you see his jaw set a little tighter.

“Or… what?” you say again, feeling a jolt of excitement zip through you.

Joel leans down and takes your bottom lip into his mouth, sucking hard and then sliding his tongue across it. You nearly burst into flames, and feel the need for him coursing through you with this one little action. “You really want to find that out?” he says in a low rumble. His grip tightens a little as his fists grip onto your clothing, bunching the fabric into his palms. “You know what happened last time you were a little bratty tease.”

“I do,” you say simply, the implication heavy behind the words, hopeful and daring to repeat the events of the other night where he smacked your ass so hard you still have faint marks from it.

“Christ,” he breathes out suddenly, able to snap himself out of it and release his grip. “Insatiable girl,” he murmurs, his lips close to your ear now. He pulls away reluctantly and you look up at him with wild, doe-like eyes as he puts a small amount of distance between you two.

“I’m leaving,” he announces, his voice tight and unconvinced it’s even possible for him to leave you right now. He finally takes a few steps back from you, allowing his mind to break free from the desire threatening to overtake him.

“But if you don’t come over tonight, I know where to find you and take what I want,” he concludes.

Fuck, you think to yourself, you’re absolutely counting on it.

#@ god when is it my chance with joel #fic: closer #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader

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laundrybiscuits · 1 year

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Eden actually likes her name. When she thinks about the muslin-draped horrors she could’ve gotten stuck with, like poor Suzie, she feels guiltily glad she dodged that bullet. If she’d been the one who had to shoulder the impossible burden of being named Suzie, who knows how she might’ve turned out.

Eden is a word that could go a lot of ways. It’s almost as good as Lilith or Isis or something. It’s the kind of name that could be sexy, in the right hands. The kind of name you could say on stage: ladies and gentlemen, introducing the one and only Eden—

That’s where the picture stalls out, though. Eden Bingham is pretty awful, no matter how you spin it. She wants to pick a stage name like some glamorous Hollywood actress, but she hasn’t decided exactly what she wants yet. She thinks it would be real elegant to pick something French, like…like Verne.

There’s a battered paperback tucked under her mattress at home, where sticky, prying little fingers can’t get at it. She’s not a fast reader, but she’s read it about a million times by now. Sometimes when she can’t sleep, she’ll take it out and just squint at it in the moonlight, tracing her fingertips over the faded elephant on the cover. It’s a story about some guy who was so bored he decided to travel all around the world, and nobody stopped him. He could just go. He didn’t have any kids or anything that he had to take care of or look after; in fact, there was some guy whose whole job was to look after him.

For a little while, Eden thought about borrowing the main guy’s last name, but Eden Fogg sounds kind of old and stuffy. She could take the French valet’s name, but she’s not completely confident she knows how to pronounce Passepartout, and she’s terrified she’s going to say it wrong and nobody’s going to take her seriously ever again.

The author’s French too, though, and his name seems a lot easier to handle. So, lately she’s been looking in the mirror and saying Eden Verne, hi my name is Eden Verne real quiet to herself, just testing it out. She’s not sure about it yet, but it’s definitely better than Eden Bingham.

Eden Bingham is just a handful of years away from Edie Bingham, who spends her time looking after a house full of kids and wears shapeless floor-length dresses. But Eden Verne could be someone who travels and wears exciting makeup. Eden Verne drinks and swears and smokes, and she never has to deal with kids ever again. Beautiful, sophisticated men and women alike despair for love of her, but she never lets anyone stay more than a night.

Anyway, she doesn’t have to figure out if she can carry off Verne yet, because the stupid boy she followed halfway across the country introduced her to his friends as Eden Bingham, so she never got the chance to decide if she was going to say something different. She probably wouldn’t have, but—maybe she would. Maybe. She’ll never know.

The thing with Argyle fizzled out pretty quick. He’s cute, and making out with him is fun, but he doesn’t ever seem to want anything real out of life. Eden can’t understand him at all, and worse yet, she’s pretty sure he doesn’t understand her. When they’re high, they communicate just fine giggling about the cosmos, but that’s not enough. She’s sure there’s supposed to be more, even if she’s not entirely sure what that means.

She broke up with him on an impulse, and sometimes she regrets it. He’s a good guy. He’s not like any other guy she’s ever known. He’s willing to drive clear across the country, which is what she liked about him to begin with. Maybe that’s as good as it gets for her.

But she can’t take it back now. It’s not even that she thinks he’d say no, necessarily; she just can’t handle the idea of trying to walk back something like that. She’d die of humiliation before the words made it out of her mouth.

So Eden’s just here, in Hawkins, staying in her ex-fling’s best friend’s step-dad’s spare room because it’s still marginally better than having to hitch home to Utah. Argyle is planning to drive back to California in a few weeks, so she’s going to just ride with him then. In the meantime, she’s going to have a nice, quiet vacation in Indiana, doing whatever it is Midwesterners do in the summer, and then she’ll go home and nothing at all about the life of Eden Bingham will have changed.

#eden bingham #so yeah this is the robin rarepair I mentioned! I don't want to talk too much in the tags bc I want to see if I can sell it via narrative #obvs this is the same story as the matchmaking snippet I posted last night but I don't think it follows directly #I just wrote it & it seemed like a pretty self-contained thing so here u go #(also I'm kinda assuming this post is not going to be too popular given it has zero ship content and is about a very minor character haha)#(which is fine! that's just how fandom works! maximum engagement is not my goal I'm just here to try stuff out)#anyway there's a pretty good chance this'll get rewritten once I have a better handle on eden's voice #fic: somewhere sometime somehow

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sflow-er · 2 months

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S2 Walty snippets series [complete]

With the final season of Young Royals almost upon us, I've been taking stock of my fics and decided to scrap the second chapter to Like you better. There is always a chance of me returning to it someday, but I don't think it really brings anything new to the fic.

That means my little series of S2-compliant Walty fics is complete, and since I never made a proper series post, here's some shameless self-promo (ft. comment quotes):

Sflow's S2 Walty snippets

S2-compliant Henry or Walty fics. The first two are consistent with each other, the last one is separate. Any of them can easily be read as a standalone. Henry is ace as always in my fics, but the depiction of his asexuality and the nature of his relationship to Walter varies.

Bright ideas: ~5k, T, platonic Walty "I love how no matter how short this little one-shot is, it still has a complete narrative structure (--) I giggled from start to finish"

Henry's motivation for rowing has been on a downward spiral all winter. He gets a little lost inside his head trying to avoid punishment for being late, until Walter tells him to get home for something exciting. Cue an awkward walk-by when Wilmon are trying to have an important talk, some related thoughts, a discussion with Walter, and an invitation for Wille to join some ridiculous shenanigans.

OR: A missing moment/scene expansion for s2ep2 (written for YR week 2023) that shows us what Henry was up to before, during and after the locker room scene. My attempt at crack.

Like you better: ~2k, T, queerplatonic OR romantic Walty "I didn't know I needed queerplatonic fanfics that much. It makes me so happy!"

After the masquerade ball, Walter comes home to Henry, who is newly recovered from a migraine attack. A bit of talk about girls, their friendship, and Henry's recent revelation of his asexuality ensues. Along with some cuddles.

OR: A super fluffy missing moment between Walty at the end of s2ep4. Can be read as either queerplatonic or romantic, your choice!

Last chance: ~7k, T, romantic Walty Not consistent with the other parts of the series! "beautifully crafted (--) second chapter was amazing and gentle and like being hugged through my phone screen"

As Henry and Walter's friendship takes a romantic turn, Henry decides to take the last chance to come out to his best friend before everything changes.

OR: A first kiss + coming out/ace talk + getting together fic set after S2 (written for Ace Awareness Week 2023). Contains discussion of past acephobia, previous sexual experience (not very specific), and aversions (French kissing specifically mentioned, the rest are up to the reader's interpretation). A more sex-favourable take on ace Henry than my other fics (sex doesn't happen in the fic, though). Also, Walter is explicitly gay in this one.

#young royals #young royals fanfic #young royals fic #henry young royals #walter young royals #walty #ace fic #s2 walty snippets #ace henry #aspec henry #asexuality #bright ideas #like you better #last chance

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becca-alexa · 1 year

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Baby, It's Cold

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’re snowed in with no heat, so you suggest sharing body heat to keep from freezing - but how far will things go between you and Steve?

Word Count: 6.3K

Content Warnings: p in v sex, general smut, cursing, consensual touching

Author’s Note: feedback appreciated!! i don't have much experience writing stuff like this, and i figured practice makes perfect 💗

It was a miracle Robin had managed to snag the cabin - who in their right mind would ever rent out an entire villa in the woods to a bunch of twenty-somethings? It was unheard of, or so she claimed, because none of them could get her to shut up about how well she'd haggled for the place, how she'd bartered with the owner over coffee and used her mile-a-minute voice to confuse them into signing off on them staying the weekend.

The place was far, far outside of Hawkins, an urgently-welcome retreat for all of you after what had proved to be the most difficult year of your lives. Nancy, Robin, Jonathan, Argyle, Eddie, you and Steve - you'd all made plans to meet up and drive over together; Eddie had given his van a well-needed tune up specifically for this trip, so that it could handle everyone and everything in one go. But, as was quickly - annoyingly - becoming the norm with your group, your plans fell through… sort of.

"What do you mean, you're stuck in Indy?" Steve tried to keep his voice down as he balanced the payphone receiver against his ear, hands shoved into the pockets of his jean jacket as he braced himself against the cold. "Robbie, we've been planning this trip for weeks-"

"I know, I know!" Robin hurriedly replied; you tried not to giggle too loudly as Steve rolled his eyes. "But Nancy had this thing she needed to pick up, and Eddie had offered to drive us, then Jonathan and Argyle wanted to tag along-"

"What, so you didn't think to tell me about your little day trip?" Steve dragged a hand through his styled hair, shifted from one leg to the other, slapping a hand against his thigh in exasperation. Can you believe her?, he mouthed to you, biting back a grin when you shook your head.

"Just go with [Y/N]!" Robin insisted - and in retrospect, you'd realize she'd insisted a bit too intently, but you weren't thinking of that now.

What you were thinking of was how in Heaven's name were going to survive the entire three-hour drive up to the cabin, alone with Steve Harrington.

Your best friend, your bat-wielding protector, the sole object of your desires - Hell, he was the only crush you'd ever had, and even after so many years, your affections for the man still ran as deep as ever.

"Robin says they'll meet us at the cabin tomorrow." Steve asked, holding the phone away from his face as he turned toward you, head falling to the side, hair bouncing over his face. "That okay with you?"

"T-That's fine." You reply with a nod, staring at the lock that had fallen over his forehead, and you prayed he hadn't picked up on how your voice had cracked.

"You owe us, Robbie." Steve replied gruffly, but you knew there was no bite to his words. "Seriously this time."

"Sure, sure! Whatever!" Robin hurriedly replied; from where you were standing, you could barely make out what sounded like Argyle… shouting at someone? "Drive safe!"

"Rob-" The line went dead, loudly buzzing in his ear; Steve groaned as he all but slammed the receiver against the payphone, his brows furrowing as he began to lose himself in his thoughts. You took a step toward him, bridging the gap that'd been left between you; your fingers were soft as they brushed over his skin, trailing over the soft hair covering his forearm, pulling him out of his own head.

"Steve, it'll be fine." Your voice was quiet, and you hoped it'd calm him down - the last thing you needed was Steve driving up a rugged, unfamiliar mountain upset. "We'll try calling again when we get there, okay?"

He nodded, blinking at the warm smile you gave him - your smiles were always warm, always gentle, but every time he'd be graced with it, he'd remind himself not to get too excited.

You smiled at everyone like that, he'd convinced himself, desperate to believe it were true, that the look of pure sunshine on your face wasn't just for him - because how could it be?

It was, but that's another story.

You walked to his car, your pace picking up to a jog as the bitter cold sunk through your clothes. Steve beat you to it, holding the door open for you.

"Ever the gentleman, huh?" You teased, climbing into the seat and pulling the heavy thing shut behind you.

Had you hesitated just for a moment longer, you'd have caught how Steve burned at your words, how he'd licked his dry lips nervously as his mind froze up, hands trembling as they fisted at his sides.

You weren't the only one with a lingering crush.

Taking a steeling breath, he walked over to the driver's side, hands cupped over his mouth as he shut the door, working desperately to stave off the chill biting at his fingertips.

"Ready?" The car roared to life beneath his hands, the sound a welcome comfort ahead of your long journey; you cranked the heating up to the highest setting. Again, you smiled at him, fuzzy and soft; he smiled in return, and he pulled the car out of the gas station parking lot and onto the main road.

You'd been driving for hours.

"You find it yet?" asked Steve, glancing at you for what felt like the millionth time as you scanned the map creased and wrinkled atop your lap, your brows furrowed in concentration as you traced your finger over one of many wiggling lines.

"There should be a road up ahead on the left…" You mumbled in reply, flipping the map upside down, this way and that. Should you have brought a compass? "Maybe the right…? No, wait, definitely the left."

"You sure?" Steve asked hesitantly - he'd driven through more open country roads and empty spatterings of woods than he could remember; in the dark, he couldn't even tell he was driving uphill.

"You don't trust my cartography skills, Harrington?" Your lifted your brow, your tongue sticking out of the corner of your pressed lips. "Take the next left, then it should be at the end of the road."

"I trust you, but this baby's only got so much gas." You laughed at him, clear and pleasant, his smile widening at the sound of it. "Here?"

"Yeah, turn here."

The car jumped as it crossed off the main road and onto the dirt, leading up the side of whatever mountain you were on; Steve's hand flew out to hold you down before he could think to stop himself, and you clung to him as the jolting continued on, both of you only relaxing when the cabin finally came into view.

And, boy, was it a view.

"Robin got us this?" You exclaimed, gaping at the expansive cabin before you, eyes sparkling as Steve turned the interior light on. "This is amazing!"

"It's a cabin." Steve shrugged, and your head snapped to look at him - he sounded… unimpressed? "What? I think it's nice." You rolled your eyes at him and climbed out of the car; he followed closely behind, insisting he carry your bag, ignoring your protests against it altogether.

As though the outside of the cabin wasn't impressive enough, the inside was lavish enough that even Steve was taken by surprise. Two floors, six bedrooms, wall-to-wall log paneling, a massive fireplace across the main living room stocked to overflow with cut firewood.

"'S it still just nice?"

"It's really nice."

The both of you explored the space, running from room to room, gawking at the luxurious kitchen and the equally-massive wraparound deck leading out from it. And, having taken in your fill, the two of you begin making dinner - rather, Steve was making dinner and you were relegated to chopping and slicing duty, the conversation between you lighthearted and teasing.

Midway through your simple stir-fry dinner, seated in the kitchen, you were the first to notice the change in the weather.

"Steve," You nudged him, and he gave you a questioning look, stopping mid-chew to look at whatever you were pointing at. "It's snowing!"

"Huh." His brows furrow, his gaze dropping to nothing. "The weather report didn't mention snow."

"It shouldn't be too bad, right?" You tried to reassure him - and yourself, too - as you followed his train of thought. "They'll make it by tomorrow, for sure."

"Yeah, for sure…" Steve didn't sound too convinced, but you didn't push the conversation further. Seeing as how he'd made dinner, you volunteered to do the dishes. And, ever the good friend, he'd kept you company, even drying off and putting away whatever you'd finished washing.

"Steve, I said I was doing the dishes…" You huffed, pulling the damp towel slung over his shoulder and giving his chest a light-hearted swat.

"What, I'm not allowed to help?" He danced around you, snatching back the towel, and you swiveled around to reach him; he lifted the towel far above your head, well out of your reach, laughing as you tried to jump for it.

"Steve Harrington, give that back!"

"Just let me-"

Stricken mid-sentence, the lights flickered.

You froze - you both did, Steve's arm an instant vice as he held you against his chest. Neither of you spoke, neither breathed as you listened for the tell-tale sounds of danger, of an unholy nightmare resurrected. You buried your face into the solid safety of his chest, clinging to his shirt as his eyes scanned the room. Several painful, heavy minutes passed before you slowly began to feel him relax, his hold on you loosening ever so slightly.

"Let me go check the power…" he mumbled, his reluctance palpable as he left you alone, all but running down the hallway to where he'd remembered seeing a breaker box. Throwing it open, he flicked through every switch, yet the cabin remained shrouded in darkness.

Shutting the panel door, and rounding the corner back into the kitchen, he narrowly missed being hit across the eye by the empty vase you'd commandeered as a weapon.

"Whoa! Watch the face!" He jumped back, falling out of your swinging range. "The power's out. Snow must've knocked down a line or something." He explained, voice assured, and you sagged in relief at his words, hands visibly shaking as you set the vase back atop the counter. Without missing a beat, Steve stepped toward you, taking your hands in his own, enveloping them, his touch silently pleading you to look at him.

"Hey," His voice was buttery-soft, gentle in a way he only ever used with you. "There's nothing here. It's just us."

You shake your head, swallowing dryly, your head falling to your chest as you steadied the erratic beating of your heart. "Y-Yeah, you're right."

Steve nodded, calling forth every fiber of his being to let you go, to lose the warmth he'd found in your touch. Together, you'd made the most of things - you remembered seeing a box of candles in one of the closets, a pack of matches tucked away between them all, and in no time at all, the living room was bathed in the flickering, golden glow of over a dozen flames. You sat atop the supple leather couch, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you watched Steve light the logs in the fireplace.

You were cold, your hands tucked against you, the tips of your toes already feeling numb - and from the way Steve rubbed at his arms, he'd felt it, too.

"Should we… uh…" You tried to ask, your own embarrassment shriveling your words before you could get them out, hands shaking as you tugged anxiously at your fingers. "I-I mean, it's cold, and the fireplace-"

You gave him an exasperated look, but Steve - bless his athletic soul - wasn't following.

You groaned, dragging your hands through your hair as you blurted out, "We should sleep here."

"On the floor?"

"Yes, Steven, on the floor." You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his shock. "We can take a couple blankets and make a bed. It'll be warmer here than in the bedrooms."

Steve turned away from you, staring into the cackling fire. To you, he was considering what you'd said, his expression pensive, almost blank - to him, he was failing to quell his boiling panic at the thought of having to sleep with you… beside you? Whatever - either way, you would be much too close to him and he was not prepared. There were only so many rooms - and therefore only so many blankets - in the cabin, so he knew you wouldn't be able to make two separate beds.

He had to sleep with you.

"I-I mean, you're right…"

You gave him a confused look. "...But?"

Steve took a deep breath, turning back toward you, and he swore you could see the way his heart pounded in his throat. "No, nothing." He stood up, brushed off his jeans, tried for his best smile - which came through as more of a lopsided grin, but that's beside the point. "Let's get those blankets, huh?"

Between the two of you, you were proud of the bed you'd made, cozy under the pile of blankets and pillows; splitting for a minute, you both readied for bed, changing into your pajamas, brushing your teeth in the kitchen - Steve sensed your lingering unease at being in there, so he stood closer to you than he normally would, his hand finding the small of your back as the two of you walked back to the living room.

"Which side do you want?" You asked him, suddenly feeling shy at seeing him in nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants and an old Hawkins Phys-Ed shirt - and, unbeknownst to you, your clothes were having the same effect on him, your oversized shirt reaching your knees like an old nightgown.

"Doesn't matter." He pulled at the drawstring of his pants, suddenly intent on looking everywhere but at you. "I'll sleep like a rock, anyway."

You snorted a laugh and crawled into your side of the bed. "Yeah, and you'll keep me up all night with your snoring."

"I do not snore!" Steve exclaimed, and you laughed even harder at him, obviously having touched a sore spot. "I don't!"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Steve." He gave you a withering look, and you collapsed in a fit of giggles - nervous giggles, but he didn't need to know that. He shook his head at you as he crawled in under the blankets, close to you yet still keeping a respectable distance.

"Candles stay on?" He knew what your answer would be, but he asked anyway, his chest tight as you nodded.

"Unless it bothers you-"

"Doesn't bother me, sweetheart." He froze, his breath catching - he'd overstepped. Called you the wrong thing, gotten too comfortable. He waited for you to shake your head, to roll your eyes at him and turn around.

But, nothing came.

Steve watched, hands itching from the ferocity of his fraying nerves as you nodded, quieter than usual, curling up on your side as you continued to face him. He laid on his side, toward you, hands bunching the blanket up to his face as he tried to relax - not that he'd be getting much sleep around you, but he could pretend, for your sake.

Minutes pass, the soft sputtering of the candles a soft harmony to the loud, almost rhythmic cackling of the fireplace. Even in the muted light, you notice Steve trembling beneath the blankets.

He was cold.

"Steve?" you whispered, moving closer to him, the sudden drop in temperature making your stomach flip. "Steve, are you okay?"

"Hm…?" His eyes are slow to open, his voice much more tired than it had been mere moments ago; he'd curled up tighter - you just barely felt how his knees were tucked up to his chest. "What?"

"You're shivering." You continued to inch closer, your body all but touching his, and for the life of him, he couldn't remember how to move. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I was fine before…" he grumbled, shaking his head, his jaw clenched to keep you from hearing his chattering teeth. "'M fine, just go back to sleep."

You gave him a hard-pressed look, gaze narrowed at the top of his lowered head; before you could convince yourself to do otherwise, you began to fumble about beneath the blankets. Steve cracked an eye open to watch, only to catch you flinging your shirt somewhere off to the side.

He swallowed audibly, his mind racing - and crashing - as he felt your arms envelope him, your chest pressed to his with only the thin barrier of his shirt between you.

"[Y/N], w-what are you-"

"Body heat." Your answer came quickly, much to his surprise, your hands leaving smoldering trails as you rubbed them over his back. "You need to stay warm, Steve."

He nodded, two thoughts about you dominating his mind:

You were much more selfless than you gave yourself credit for.

You weren't wearing much of anything under that shirt.

He tried to think of something to do, something to say, but the unfiltered heat radiating off of your skin was too enticing, too overwhelming. He tried getting closer to you, chasing your warmth, but something felt off; something was holding him back.

In a flash, he'd tossed his shirt aside, the aged fabric landing somewhere near yours.

"Steve-"

"Body heat, right?" God, he hoped he didn't sound too breathless. "We can keep each other warm."

You weren't about to fight that logic, were you?

He shuffled closer to you, arms settling loosely around your waist, the frigid feeling of his hands trailing over your bare skin sending a shiver through you. Between you, you'd moved your hands up - almost as a buffer, ridiculous as that seemed. But, now you were in a new predicament - your fingers wove through the matte of hair on his chest; you could feel each curl, each wisp as he breathed, your touch both featherlight and branding. His head fell to your shoulder, and his arms tightened over so slightly around you.

"How are you so hot…?" Steve asked; his head shot up, and you were given an excellent view of the blush spreading up his neck as he quickly amended, "Warm, I mean. Shit, I- You're really warm. N-Not that you're not hot-"

You giggled, the movement brushing your chest against his, pulling out a gasp from somewhere deep within him that he'd just barely managed to catch. "You're not half-bad yourself, Harrington." Feeling you relax, he tried to do the same, leaning further into you, the scent of your citrus shampoo lulling him into a pleasant sort of halfway-sleep.

"Uh… H-Hey, Steve…?" He could hear your voice, distant and somewhat muffled, and he grinned against the comfort of your shoulder. "Steve, are you awake?"

"Yeah…?" He peeled open his eyes, pulled away enough to look at you, confused for only a moment as he tried to follow the way your gaze flicked to the space between you - and when he did, he stopped breathing, his stomach dropping to his half-thawed toes as he sprang away from you, his scalding face clear in the candlelight, hands pressed tightly between his legs.

"Shit! I- Goddamnit, [Y/N], I didn't… I swear, I wasn't-"

You watched on, stunned silent as Steve worked himself into a whole-hearted frenzy, shaking as he desperately tried to explain away why he'd gotten hard sleeping with you.

"Was that… is it my fault?" You couldn't help yourself - here you were, sharing a bed with the man of your dreams, who'd gotten painfully aroused with you in his arms. Your words were barely above a whisper as you continued, "Are you like that because of me?"

Part of you wished you'd disappear, another thinking of what you had within arm's reach that could be used to tear your own tongue out because who in their right mind asks something like that? You stared at him, lip worried between your teeth, eyes catching the light like a million stars in the night; Steve realized he was at an impasse - you both were.

It was now or never.

"Yeah, I… I am."

Nothing could have prepared you for his answer; you felt as though the floor had collapsed beneath you, turned to quicksand and swallowed you into its grainy depths.

"Steve-"

"I like you, [Y/N]."

You couldn't help the gasp that tumbled past your lips, nor could you quell the sudden flood of tears swelling in your eyes. His words flew around in your head, dominated your thoughts, demanded every ounce of your attention.

I like you.

"[Y/N], don't… don't cry- Shit, I didn't…" He'd moved back to you the instant he'd caught the first tear, his arms wrapping back around you - he'd kept his hips turned away from you, the angle awkward, but you didn't notice. "C'mon, baby, I'm sorry-"

You shook your head, your breathing hiccupped, stuttered as you wiped at your dripping face. To his surprise, you'd laughed, the sound as wet and sodden as it was bubbling.

"Steve, I'm not… I'm not upset." You tried to tell him, reassure him, meeting his concerned gaze through glossy lashes.

"But, you're crying-"

You took his hand in both of yours, held it between your bodies like a tether between souls; he could feel your pulse through your palm, quick and solid and strong.

"[Y/N]-"

"I like you, too, Steve."

He barely believed what he'd heard - you liked him? You'd reciprocated his feelings? The crush he'd been achingly, lovingly nursing since high school was… mutual?

"Y-You… You do?" He hated how insecure he sounds, how hesitant and uncertain he was; you gave him another blinding smile, dropping your hands as you pressed your bare chest to his.

"I do." You thank the Heavens above that your voice hadn't wavered - he heard you clear as day, the fluttering he'd feel whenever he was near you now a full-on avalanche of jittery emotion. "I… uh… I have for a while now."

"Really?"

You nodded, hiding your face into a lump of bunched-up blanket.

"How long have you…?"

"You first." You insisted, your stomach in knots at his shy smile.

"Since freshman year, at least." Steve replied smoothly, his confidence returning in drips and splashes - it was better than nothing, he'd conceded. "Never thought you'd give me a chance, though."

"God, I've liked you since, like, fourth grade…" You'd groaned into the blanket, goosebumps running over your body as you caught his soft exhale.

"Seriously?" He couldn't believe it - you'd been hiding your feelings for him for almost a decade?

How had he not noticed?

You'd pulled your head up from the blanket pile just enough to look at him, and you both collapsed into a fit of nervous, giddy laughter, the little space left between your bodies shrinking away. Steve was the first to settle down, staring into the depths of your eyes with the look of a man drowning in his love; he brushed a lock of hair behind your ear as your legs tangled together, his rough and pleasantly scratchy against yours, and he waited for you to quiet down before asking,

"Is this alright?"

His hands were at your hips, his thumbs running over the thin elastic band of your underwear. So elated were you, you'd almost forgotten about his… situation.

Almost.

Calming yourself, you shifted, slowly pressed your body to his - your hips firm against him - as you nodded, cheeks pink as his rock-hard length throbbed against your stomach.

"[Y/N]?"

"Steve, I…" You couldn't bring yourself to ask for what you'd wanted - but, God, did you want to. Lord knows you did. Your head fell to his chest with a quiet groan of frustration, but he understood all the same.

"[Y/N], look at me."

You lost yourself in the endless depths of his eyes, your only thought to keep breathing as he reached for your hand.

"If you don't want to, tell me to stop."

He watched every flicker of emotion on your face, every expression, every feeling play out in vivid detail; he brought your hand - so small in his own - to the throbbing between his legs, his eyes fluttering shut as you wrapped your fingers around him, holding him through the soft material of his sweatpants.

"God, Steve…" You whispered, giving him an experimental squeeze, your body sweltering with heat as he moaned - it was quiet, just barely louder than an exhale, but you'd heard it all the same.

You had done that to him, brought him to this, and you ached for more.

"Take it off." Your tongue poked out to swipe at your lips; he swallowed at the movement, every nerve in his body alight, aflame at the feeling of your hand around him. "Please."

He didn't need to be asked twice.

In a single movement, Steve pulled off his pants, chucking them somewhere across the room; you gasped as you realized he wasn't wearing anything underneath, naked as the day he was born.

You looked at him, he nodded, and your hand was on him again.

God, Steve thought, his head pressed to your shoulder, breathing heavy as you began to stroke him, it's never been this good before. All you'd done was touch him, and he could already feel himself begin to unravel, his stomach coiling with his building release.

You stared down between you in open-mouthed awe, feeling the weight of him in your hand; he actually keened when you'd brought your other hand to cup him, pushing his hips into your grip, chasing more of your touch - of you.

"B-Baby…" He barely recognized his own voice from how weak he sounded, his hand shaking as he wrapped it over yours, stilling your movements. "Baby, please, I… I can't-"

Your hands flew off of him, raised up to your chest, a pang of fear seizing your chest at the thought of having hurt him. Were you moving too fast, your grip too tight? "Steve, I-"

"No! No, sweetheart, it's… It's not you, I swear." He pulled you close, buried his nose in your hair, his voice quiet with embarrassment as he continued, "If you keep doing that, this'll all be over way too fast."

You giggled at him, your smile broad and beaming as he moved away to look at you, going stiff in more ways than one as you brought his hand to your chest; he could feel the thrumming of your pulse beneath the softness, keeping pace with his own.

What, like you hadn't heard about his boobies monologue from Robin?

You felt his fingers twitch against you, desperate to squeeze, but he held himself back, restrained himself.

"I won't break, y'know."

God, you were going to kill him, he swore, shaking his head, a nervous grin stretching across his lips - and it was then that he paused, his hand stilling over you as the shameful realization dawned upon him.

He hadn't even kissed you yet.

Where's your game, Harrington?

He'd gone shy on you again, you noted, feeling how his breathing turned slow and deep. "Steve?" You brought your face closer to his, hands at his jaw, thumbs caressing his cheeks as you urged him to look at you. "Steve, do you-"

"Can I kiss you?"

Your silence stretched out for what, to him, felt like hours. Had he pushed you too far, assumed too much? Was kissing too personal for you? His first instinct was to backtrack, to make amends, and he hurriedly mumbled, "I-I mean, it's fine if you don't-"

"Do it, Steve."

Your words were clear, demanding in a way that made him shiver in anticipation. Slowly, carefully, he trailed his hands over the softness of your waist, pulling you flush against him, his length trapped between your thighs.

"You want me to kiss you?" He needed to hear it from you, needed you to say it, to know you wanted this just as much as he did.

"Please."

Of all the times you'd imagined kissing Steve, of daydreaming about what he'd feel like, nothing could compare to the real thing; you melted against him with a sigh, arms settling around his neck as you pulled him impossibly closer, every pore on your body screaming for this moment to go on, for him to kiss you like this forever.

And for Steve, kissing you was a miracle - he'd long since resigned himself to wanting you from afar, to watching you from the sidelines, content with the way things were. He didn't think he'd ever gather enough courage to confess his feelings to you, terrified of losing one of the closest friends he's ever had. But, now?

Now that he's tasted you, he's insatiable.

He was the one to deepen the kiss, to lean into you, press his body against you, throbbing between your thighs and hissing as his sensitive head caught on the fabric of your underwear. You pulled his hands back to your chest, his tongue tracing over your lip as you pulled off the lacy thing and tossed it aside.

Your kiss had started saccharine, gentle, coy, but it had devolved into something carnal, primal, fueled on by years of pining and longing and want.

"[Y/N], can I…? Can- touch you?" Steve panted, his words beginning to fail him, his hair already damp with sweat as it fell over his eyes. You pull one of his hands away from your chest, biting back a moan at the feeling of his calloused palm dragging over your nipple; you guided him between your legs, your breathing labored, eyes clenched shut.

When he touched you, you screamed.

Painstakingly, sobbingly slowly, he worked you open, his pride growing tenfold as he felt how wet you were, how slick his fingers were quickly becoming as they moved over you - and all because of him. He brushed his fingers lightly over your clit, his touch barely a touch at all, yet it drove you nearly to the brink of insanity.

"S-Steve…!" you cried, screamed, no longer caring about the volume of your voice as you ground your hips against his hand, fingers clawing at his back. "Mmm…! Fuck, Steve…!"

"Talk to me, sweetheart. How's it feelin'?" The closeness of his voice, of his lips pressed to your ear did absolutely nothing to veer you away from the edge of ecstasy you were barreling toward. You could feel him circle a finger around your dripping entrance, teasing you, your body writhing atop the blankets.

"S… Steve, please…!" You shook in his arms, your face buried against his chest as you begged him for more - and when he finally pressed his finger into you, you both moaned.

You were so hot, so tight, around his finger, sucking him in, your velvety walls pulsing against him - he could feel his cock weep as he imagined what it'd feel like to be inside of you.

"Hmm…! A-Ah- Shit, Steve, I…!" Your head began to swim, your breathing rough as he worked you, one hand holding you by the hip while the other thrust into you, his thumb pressing down on your throbbing clit all the while.

"Where you at, baby?" he panted, his focus breaking away from the sinful squelching coming from between your parted legs.

"'M close, Steve… Fuck, I- I'm so close…!" You threw your head back, your body arching off the floor as Steve's kept his pace steady, looking very much satisfied with himself as you fell apart in his hands; with a final, trembling moan, you collapsed, panting for air as the sweet thrill of aftershocks shot through you; absentmindedly, you could feel him slide in behind you, holding you against his chest, hands moving idly over your sex-warmed skin.

Still, even in the rose-colored haze of your mind, you knew you wanted more.

"[Y/N]?" Steve watched as you turned around in his arms, pulling him into a sloppy, wet kiss. It didn't take much for him to turn to putty in your hands, and he offered no resistance as you nudged him onto his back, legs straddling his hips. "Fuck, baby, I…" he breathed, eyes wide as his gaze moved over you in reverence - bathed in the candlelight, flushed from the bliss he'd given you, he swore you never looked so beautiful.

You moved your dripping core over his cock hesitantly - unlike Steve, you had no prior experience to draw from. Did it feel good when you pressed down on him? When you sped up? Slowed down? You stared at where your bodies connected, not realizing Steve's eyes had clenched shut, sweat beading down his brow as he tried to keep himself from losing it.

"Sweetheart, please, I…" Steve moaned, his hands leaving you to drag through his hair. "You're killin' me-"

"Yeah?" you panted, pushing more of your weight down onto him, your heart soaring at the litany of curses that fell from his lips - and even a few that weren't in English. "How's it feel, pretty boy?"

At the name, you felt him jump against you, and you swore on your mother's life you'd never seen him flush so red.

It was as though the very room had gone still, the snow outside ceasing to fall, your breath catching as you lifted yourself off of him; holding him in your hand, you lined him up with your entrance, your eyes shut as you tried to calm your nerves, but you paused at the feeling of hands running over your sides, gentle and soft against you.

Steve looked up at you, cheeks bursting with color as he held you steady, an unspoken question clear in his eyes.

Do you want it?

You nodded, your lips breaking into a smile as you kissed him - and all at once, you pushed yourself down, crying out at the feeling of him stretching you, filling you.

He was big, and you were loath to admit that the rumors you'd heard about him all throughout high school were true - he deserved to be called "King Steve".

You fell against him, shaking at the sudden intrusion as his hands soothed over your back, your waist, your thighs, your face, guiding you down onto him, whispering praises into your ear.

"You're doin' so well, baby. You're so good to me, taking me like that… Fuck-!"

You were struggling to breathe, face pressed against the crook of his neck as you waited for the pain to melt away - and Steve waited with you, peppering your face in kisses, his hands smoothing over your hair.

"Do you want to stop?" he asked, his voice softer than silk, his concern washing away the lingering traces of your discomfort. You shook your head, biting your lip as you pulled away from him, wiping at the moisture clinging to the corners of your eyes.

Steve felt his stomach drop. "[Y/N]-"

"I'm okay." you reassured him, your voice all but gone, eyes fluttering shut as you settled back against his hips - he'd buried himself completely into you, the feeling of you enveloping him almost too much. He waited for you, for your sign that it was alright to move - because once he started, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop.

You accustomed yourself to the feeling of him inside of you, thick and hard and throbbing. "S-Steve…" you moaned, your hands steadying yourself against his chest. "You can… You can move-"

And you fell over when he snapped up into you, breaking out into fits of bright, sparkling laughter.

"[Y/N]!" Steve couldn't help but laugh, too, feeling your walls squeezing around him. "Baby, you alright?"

You nodded, still smiling as you threw your arms over your heated face.

"Keep going, Steve…" you sighed, peeking at him from between your fingers - and his heart swelled, leaning over to kiss you stupid as his hips pounded into you, one of his hands moving down to your clit, rubbing you in time with his thrusts.

He wasn't going to last - he knew he wasn't - but he'd be damned if you didn't finish before him.

Your mouth fell open with a wanton moan, hands fisting the blankets at your sides as he gripped your hips roughly enough to bruise, his pace already beginning to falter. He kissed you everywhere he could reach, covering you in his love, his breathing coming out in grunts as he felt himself nearing his end.

"Baby, I- I'm so fucking close-"

"Steve, I- Ahh…! I can't…! Steve, please, I'm…!"

And you reached your peaks together, screaming as you throbbed around him, as he painted you with his release, your bodies sticky as you collapsed onto the blankets, chests heaving for air as you floated back down from the Heavens.

He was the first to speak. "You still with me?" Steve asked, still winded as he rolled onto his side, his hand moving up to roll a lock of your hair between his fingers - you still smelled like citrus, like sunshine and light.

But now you smelled like him, too.

You turned your head to look at him, eyes lidded, your grin blissfully lopsided as you kissed him - gently, sweetly, relishing the feeling of his chapped lips, of the warmth of his breath over your face. "I'm still with you, Steve."

"Yeah?"

"Always."

He pulled you into his arms, his face pressed to your neck; you nudged yourself against him, exhaustion settling over you both like the falling snow.

Before you'd drifted away, you heard his voice, quiet and meek as he whispered, "I love you."

Your hands moved over his chest, and you kissed him one final time before falling into oblivion, your sigh of, "I love you, too." barely slipping past your parted lips, Steve chasing after you.

#becca.fic #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve x reader #stranger things smut #if any of you read my encanto fic you would know how disastrous my last attempt at writing smut was so i figured practice makes perfect #and i swear i'm still writing Ride the Lightning i just needed to get this off my chest #feedback appreciated <3 #also just imagine if you will robin and the gang arriving the next afternoon all aware of what likely went down #and when they find you two AWFULLY close they all know their little plan succeeded #the group has been trying to get the two of you together for years and figured this would be the best chance

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tending-the-hearth · 1 year

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okay but what if echo did testify in the senate.

what if it was broadcasted live, all over the galaxy, because they believed riyo would be proved wrong.

what if echo's words are sent out and heard by everyone, everyone listening, for once, to a clone, a clone who tells a story of horrors, of experiencing things no natborn could ever dream of surviving, of running and taking his family with him, of the desperation to provide his sister, the youngest of them all, with a life far, far away from war and harm, of watching, feeling, hearing his home destroyed, and being able to do nothing about it.

(fully imagining a scene similar to hevy’s testimony in @meridiansdominoes’s fic, just echo staring down every single senator around him, making sure every single one of them hears the words that he's saying)

omega would be standing with riyo, hidden away from the cameras, of course, but watching her brother with the brightest, most awe-filled eyes

rex, sitting in the warehouse with hunter, wrecker, and tech, watching echo and trying not to cry, because that's one of his boys up there, defending every single one of their brothers, protecting them.

tucked away, their children fast asleep, cut and suu listen, cut unable to stop the bittersweet smile as the brother he barely knows pours his heart out and tells the story of the clones.

somewhere, hunkering down, a deserter hiding, cody hears his echo, hears his ad, and all he feels is fierce, burning pride for him, and wonders about what the ramrod, reg-following shiny would think of himself now.

maybe crosshair hears the broadcast, watches it tucked away in his bunk, alone and exhausted, staring at the face of his ori'vod, and something starts to stir, something that makes his heart yearn just a little for his siblings.

and maybe, just maybe, hidden away on some isolated planet, there’s a trio of clones sitting in darkness.

one of the clones isn’t even listening to echo’s words, only his voice.

a voice he hasn’t heard in years.

far away from coruscant, fives shares a look with tup and dogma, and makes a decision.

they’re helping their brothers, continuing the fight they started.

#star wars #the bad batch #the clone wars #cody and rex are echo and fives' buirs i don't make the rules #but yeah #echo jumped at the chance to testify to the senate #so GIVE ME THE FIC OF ECHO TESTIFYING AND CALLING EVERYONE OUT #that last bit was completely self-indulgent #YES i like thinking of aus where fives steals tup and dogma from kamino #and the three of them survive #YES i know it's unrealistic #but LET ME DREAM OKAY

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corazondebeskar-reads · 5 months

Text

you know you never stood a chance - chapter eight

you know you never stood a chance series

eight: in this world, it's just us

series masterlist | prev chapter | epilogue

Joel Miller x f!reader

Words: 4.8k

Summary: Joel and Ellie return to Jackson.

Warnings: vaginal sex, oral (f receiving), like one spank, cum eating, Joel is mean/bad with feelings (but he gets a little better!), this is not canon compliant, no use of y/n, description of injury, two idiots at the end of the world learn to communicate, author is ugly crying because this is the end

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

They’d told you last night, of course, when Joel and Ellie showed up at the gates. Tommy had come to your door himself. When he knocked in the middle of the night, you had assumed the worst. Not that the real news made you any less anxious.

They were planning on having a little welcome home dinner, nothing fancy, but something fun for the kids. Maria thought maybe it was a good time to take Alice up on her offer to babysit, since she’d have to get used to it sooner or later.

But then Alice volunteered to help do the cooking, and Maria wasn’t sure who else to ask.

“I’ll do it,” you said immediately.

She raised an eyebrow at you, which made you squirm. “Don’t you think you should be there?”

“Nah, I’m sure I’ll see Ellie around,” you said, giving her an overly-fake smile that clearly said, “don’t.”

“Uh-huh. That’s your call. But if you want to volunteer for diaper duty…”

“I’d love to. You should go, have some fun.”

“You sure you don’t want to come? Ellie was askin’ if you’d be there,” Tommy says.

“No, I’m sure. Y’all go on and have a good night. I promise we’ll be okay here,” you say, with little baby Alé cradled in your arms.

Tommy sighs and pinches his forehead in a way horribly reminiscent of his brother. And, of course, “It’s just—” he says, “I know y’all didn’t exactly part on good terms, but my brother, he’s got a weird way of showin’ he cares and—”

“Tommy,” your tone is warning. “For the last time, it wasn’t like that.”

“I saw y’all kissing,” he blurts.

You’re honestly surprised he kept his mouth shut for the last six months.

“No, you saw him try to make himself feel better after I got mad. Ain’t the same thing. Now y’all go on, go do whatever old married couples in the apocalypse do for a good time. And don’t tell me about any of it.”

They each kissed the baby’s forehead before they left, Tommy promising one of them would be back soon.

It’s heading toward summer, the nights not quite so chilly anymore, so you swaddle Alé and go to the rocking chair on the porch. The street is dark, though you can see the soft glow of the mess hall in the distance.

It’s not so dark that you don’t see him walking. His gait is off, not quite a limp, but you’d know that shadow anywhere—the broad shoulders, the puff of hair, the way he seems to hunch into himself to hide away.

“You’re going the wrong way,” you say before he can set off with whatever stupid thing he was about to say.

“Nah, I’m not.”

“Dunno if you heard, but they’re throwing you a party. You’re kind of supposed to be there.”

“So’re you.”

“Nope, I’m babysitting. Got better things to do tonight than look at your ugly mug.”

He shakes his head, standing now at the bottom of the porch steps. The single lamp flickers across his face, drawing shadows where the stress and age eat away at him.

You look away, down to the baby and the peace over her tiny face, softly breathing through dreamless sleep. Or whatever it was that babies dream about.

“Look—”

“Joel, if I wanted to talk to you, I would have shown up.”

“I’ll just keep comin’ back.”

“I’ll tell Tommy.”

“You can’t threaten me with my own brother.”

“Ok, I’ll tell Maria.”

“Damn,” he shakes his head. “You got me there.”

“Go away, Joel. Go enjoy your party.” It’s softer than you meant it to be, and when his eyes catch yours, you know he didn’t miss that.

He gives you a nod, jaw ticking, and walks away. You want to feel victorious, and you do; it just stings all the same.

Maria comes home after an hour and a half. She’s got impeccable timing, as Alé has just begun to stir and realize that you are, unfortunately, not her mother. Nor do you have milk to offer her. Her little face rubs against your shirt while she begins to wail.

“You got a sixth sense about that,” you tell Maria.

She laughs. “Guess I do.”

“It’s kind of neat,” you say. “Like even after decades of technology and convenience, our bodies still know what to do.”

“It is,” she says absentmindedly, and she’s looking at you in a way you do not want to be looked at right now, so you gather up your jacket and your book.

“Okay, cool, hope you had fun, good night!” You make it as far as opening the screen door before she stops you.

“He come by?”

Your mouth drops open. “You betrayed me!”

“Of course I didn’t. Seriously? It was Tommy.”

“That little rat.”

“You wanna go tell him off? He’s still down at the hall.” She’s got a glint in her eye again, the one that makes you feel both laughed at and cared about.

“You’re not funny,” you say, shaking your head and rolling your eyes.

“It was an accident. He did good when Joel asked about you, but then he asked about Alé.”

You laugh, something warm and fond in your chest, even if your heart keeps ticking up a notch. You turn the knob of the front door.

“They liked your gift.”

Damn it, how does she keep doing that? You pause your escape and look up at her, finding honesty there.

“Ellie liked it?”

“They both did,” Maria says, and tells you how several of the townsfolk had, in fact, not liked it, but Joel and Ellie sure did.

You weren’t sure you were actually going to give it to him, time and irritation having grown into anxiety over it. But other people were giving housewarming gifts, and to be fair, you had made it for Joel.

The quilt was folded neatly and tied with twine. Most of it was an array of colors, working with what scraps could be spared. Maria had assured you that keeping folks warm was always a good use.

He hadn’t noticed, at first. She thought maybe he was having some kind of attack, actually, when Tommy told him it was from you. He had gone oddly blank and frozen for a minute. After he came back to himself, he had run his fingers over the worn, soft fabric, and then cleared his throat and moved on.

Ellie didn’t. She was chilly and pleased as punch to have a blanket. When she unfolded it to spread across her lap, she burst out laughing.

“The hell’s the matter with you?” Joel asked her.

She was laughing too hard to breathe, let alone answer him, so he stomped over.

You had saved all the white squares to spell “fuck you” in block letters across the middle of the quilt.

For a moment, he stood there, just staring at it. But between the way it made his chest feel like it was full of bubbles and the way Ellie was now pointing at his dumbfounded expression and laughing so hard she was crying, he couldn’t help it. He joined her, absolutely fucking falling apart in hysterics.

“No way,” you scoffed at Maria when she reached that part of her retelling.

“Yeah. He lost it. Scared some of the kids.”

It doesn’t take him long to notice. He figures he still had an internal sensor wired to be aware of your presence. A safety feature turned bug.

You’re leaning against the wall across the room, just watching. Taking them in from a safe distance. Ellie sees where he’s looking and jumps up, running over.

She throws her arms around your neck and hugs you. You hug her back, the rush of relief at her well-being overtaking you.

“I’m glad you’re still here,” she says

“I’m glad you’re back. And you’re okay?”

She nods and opens her mouth, then looks around at the hall full of people.

“S’ok, you can tell me everything tomorrow.”

“Promise?”

“Sure thing, kiddo. I’m on patrol in the morning, but I’ll find you after.”

“No, you’re not,” Tommy says, coming up behind you and clapping a hand on each shoulder. He’s looking over Ellie’s shoulder, where Joel hovers on the other side of the room, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Ain’t this your party? Go have fun,” he says to Ellie.

You watch as she bounds over to Joel and points to you, like he hadn’t seen you first.

Tommy gives your shoulders a squeeze and leans in close. “Look, I know ya said you weren’t scared, but you look it. You don’t gotta tell me anything, but if you need me to keep him away from you, just say the word.”

Not for the first time, your heart clenches with fondness, and you duck out of his grasp so you can turn to face him.

“Don’t worry about me,” you say, trying to put as much earnestness into the words and your eyes as you can.

“M’serious. He’s my brother, and I love him, but I know he’s not always done the best things and—“

“Hey.” The sharp tone of your voice stops his rambling. “Thank you, Tommy, seriously. But I promise it’s fine.”

Joel wasn’t going to bother you again. He wasn’t. But then he caught Tommy shooting him a suspicious look over your shoulder, and he can’t stop himself from making his way over.

Tommy’s telling you about your shift change tomorrow, something about having to swap someone to cover for Sam, which turned into a whole mess of scheduling. You’ve been bumped to dinner duty, which is fine by you anyway.

You don’t get to tell him that, though. Something flickers across his face, a wrangled mess of hurt and happiness. It’s the only warning you got.

“Y’ain’t over here botherin’ her, right?” Joel says gruffly.

You roll your eyes. “You two are somethin’ else.”

Tommy rubs the back of his neck, but Joel says, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You spin around to stare him down, arms crossed over your chest. “It means I don’t need either of you playin’ bodyguard, but especially not you.”

“If ya came here just to yell at me, let’s go outside.”

“Fine,” you snap. You hadn’t, actually, but then again, he’s always done this, crawled up under your skin like a tick.

And so you find yourself in a sick copy of six months past, standing and glaring at Joel outside the mess hall, arms folded across your chest.

“Well, go on then,” he says.

You open your mouth to say something mean, anything really, but what comes out is, “Is Ellie really okay?”

He opens and shuts his mouth. “Uh, yeah,” he says, and rubs the back of his neck. “She will be. She’ll be pissed if I tell you everything without her, but we had a real rough go of it, coupla close calls.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, seeing their mangled bodies from your nightmares. You take a deep breath and find him watching you with a pinched brow and a deep-set frown.

“And you? You’re okay too?” you say.

“Yeah, a’course. I’m fine.” He pauses and scratches his beard. “Look, m’not sorry.”

“Fine.” You turn to walk away, to go back and grab your things and get out of there before Tommy can see that you’re upset.

“Now, just hold on a minute,” Joel says, jogging to follow after you. “You hear me out.”

“No thanks. I don’t need an excuse, Joel. We don’t owe each other a damn thing.”

“Can you just stop bein’ a stubborn brat for two goddamn minutes? I’m tryin’ to tell you something.”

You spin around to face him with a nasty sneer you hadn’t worn the whole time Joel was gone. “Maybe I don’t want to hear anything you have to say to me.”

He pushes you up against the wall. It’s not rough, but he’s got a firm grip on your shoulders, and for one fleeting moment, you think about yelling for help. He must see something in your eyes because he drops his arms to his sides and steps back.

“Wasn’t gonna—I wasn’t gonna hurt you.” He mumbles the last bit to the ground, can’t look you in the eye, can’t see fear on your face for the first time.

“Wait,” you say as he turns to leave. “I know you weren’t, Joel.” You can’t look at him either, voice quiet. “I’m just not used to people touching me like that anymore.”

“I’m not—I swear—”

“I know. Joel,” you sigh and look up at the stars, wishing you believed in any higher power to ask for a little guidance. But you don’t; you’ve seen enough that all you trust is your own two feet on the ground and the whole damn Miller clan.

You scuff the toe of your boot in the dirt. “Why’re y’all like this?” you grumble.

“What?”

Whoops. You hadn’t actually meant to say that out loud. You sigh again and look up at him. “We can’t fight. I don’t want Alé to think her uncle and auntie can’t get along.”

“Auntie?”

“Yeah. Your dumb ass left me here with your brother as a watchdog. What did you think was gonna happen?”

Truth be told, he didn’t know. Didn’t really know Tommy anymore. “That’s good,” he says after a moment. “I’m glad ya weren’t alone.”

“Oh, I tried. He’s a persistent little fucker.”

He looks up at you and sighs, shaking his head. “I’m still not sorry,” the words come out fast, like he knows he’s got thirty seconds before you run away again. “Nearly died too many damn times. Don’t think I could’ve gotten us all out alive.”

You’ve thought about this moment more than you’d like to admit. Thought about the things you were going to say, the cruel ways you could dig between his ribs and pry. Thought about slapping him in the face, even. But in the end, you’re too tired of it all to consider any of it.

“If you wanna talk, let’s go someplace and talk.”

It catches him off guard. You feel spitefully pleased that he doesn’t know what to expect from you. But it stings a little, too.

You end up going back to his place. Tommy had wasted no time helping get things set up for them to have a home, hopeful that it would keep them there.

You make tea in his kitchen, using the things he didn’t know he had. He accepts a mug of it, even though it’s decaf.

“Too late for you to be having caffeine anyway,” you scold when he grumbles.

He sits down across from you at the dining table, mug wrapped in both hands. You take a moment to look at him. He looks more than six months older. He’s gone grayer, and there are new scars, new marks on him that you don’t recognize.

He looks away from your scrutinizing, tapping fingers against his mug, and shakes his head. “I ain’t got a thing to say for myself. I’m not sorry I left you here, but I am sorry I hurt you.”

Your mouth runs off without you. “Holy shit. Who are you, and what’ve you done with Joel Miller? An apology?”

But he doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t roll his eyes and call you a brat. Instead, he looks down at the table and purses his lips.

It makes you shift in your seat, legs turning automatically to angle for a better escape route. “Hey,” you say, swallowing hard. You wait until he looks up. “It is what it is. I didn’t have any delusions about what this was.” You gesture loosely between you.

“I mighta.”

You feel a lot like the time your sister pushed you off the diving board at the neighborhood pool, limbs flailing until you landed flat on your stomach in the water. “Run that by me again?”

“I got it in my head that you were mine. And then I didn’t like that much, so I told myself I was doin’ what was best for both of us.”

It’s your turn to purse your lips, but you don’t look away, afraid that if you do, he’ll stop talking.

He sighs again. “Look, I ain’t good at this. But I care about ya, okay?”

“Joel—”

“I know you’ve got a life here, now. Don’t know if you’ve got any room in it for me. But Ellie knows it’s my fault you didn’t come, so don’t go pushin’ her away, okay?”

“Joel—”

“And I know you got close with Tommy. I’ll just meet up with him somewhere you’re not, tell him he’s gotta warn you if I’m comin’ over or something.”

“Joel!”

He shuts his mouth, eyes wide.

“God, when you get going, you get going. I don’t think you’ve ever said so many words to me in a day, let alone one sitting.” It’s not what you meant to say. It’s never what you mean to say, and usually, you don’t care about your runaway tongue, but right now, you really want to say the right thing.

You’re not so far. He’s shutting down quick, you can see the walls going back up as he works his jaw back and forth.

“Joel,” you try again, softer. “You don’t have to do all that. I care about you, too. I spent so long trying not to that when you gave me an excuse to hate you, I jumped on it. I’m not any good at this, either.”

He watches your face carefully, peeling his fingers away from his mug and reaching the hand across the table. His warm hand slides between your own and your mug. He cradles it, your right hand in his left. Your breath catches.

You stare at where you connect, his broad palm covering yours. There are fucking butterflies in your stomach, like you’re a fucking teenager. Your ears and the back of your neck burn as you have to bite your lip to keep from grinning.

“What’s so funny?” He starts to pull back.

You tighten your grip and hold on, giving in to the urge to smile. “Not laughin’, Miller. Just,” and you shake your head. “We’re too damn old to be so stupid about this.”

He shakes his head, jaw twitching, before his own smile peeks through. “Y’ain’t wrong.”

You sit there for a few minutes, the silence warmed by your still-steaming tea and clasped hands.

“I know you said we don’t owe each other anything,” he says slowly. “But I was thinkin’ maybe I owe you a better kind of apology.”

“Oh yeah? You gonna get on your knees and grovel for me?”

His smile curls into a dangerous smirk. “I’m gonna get on my knees, but you’re gonna be the one beggin’, sweetheart.”

“Don’t make promises you aren’t going to keep.”

He pulls his hand from yours and takes both mugs, dumping them down the sink while you protest. But you don’t whine about it for long, because he turns and quirks an eyebrow at you. “If you’d hurry up, I was plannin’ on making good on that promise right now.”

You let him pull you up the stairs, trying to leave your anxieties behind on the landing. He’s kissing you before the bedroom door is shut, sliding his hands up your shirt to hold onto your bare waist.

“This okay, darlin’?”

You nod, bumping your nose against his in your eagerness to recapture his lips. You think he meant to go slow, but it doesn’t work out. Neither of you really know how, anyway, though you think maybe you’d like to learn.

Once he has you peeled out of your jeans and tee, he sits you on the edge of the bed and goes to make good on his promise.

“Wait,” you say, even though the last thing you want him to do is stop.

He freezes, worry written in the lines of his face.

“You can’t really be on your knees like that, Joel; they’ll be so swollen tomorrow.”

“S’worth it,” he grunts, trying to bat off your hands where they’ve wrapped their concern in his shirt.

“Nah, get up here,” you say, tugging until he eases himself back up.

“Fine, I got a better idea anyway,” he says, laying back on the pillows and pulling until you straddle him. “Get up here, sweetheart.”

You feel like you’ve come down with a fever, body gone hot but shivering from the cold. “Um, what?”

He shakes his head, mostly at himself. Of course you don’t know what he wants; he’s the only person in this godforsaken world that’s eaten your cunt.

“Come sit on my face, baby. Let me taste you. And no, y’ain’t gonna hurt me, just get up here.”

You shuffle forward until he loses his patience and yanks on your hips, jerking you forward so you have to catch yourself on the headboard. It works out anyway since he doesn’t give you any time to settle before he’s pulling you down. He licks right into your cunt, not wasting any time, before licking up to suck at your clit.

You cry out and apologize as your hips jerk forward.

“S’good, baby, take what you need,” he says, hot breath against your cunt before he gets back to work. He has you falling apart in no time, greedily lapping at everything you offer.

“Anyone touch you while I was gone?” he growls, nipping at your clit.

You cry out and grind down into his mouth, but he pulls back a little and slaps your ass.

“I asked you a question.”

“No, no one,” you gasp, trying again to reach his mouth.

He rewards you with his tongue, licking and sucking and biting until you give him another orgasm.

“Why’s that, pretty girl? Surely you could have fucked your way through this town by now.”

“Don’t—ahh—didn’t want anyone else.” His mouth has you confessing like your mama used to insist on when you were little. Admitting your most shameful secrets in the dark room. “Never did.”

He leans back to talk again, and you whine, a truly desperate, pathetic enough sound that he forgets what he had to say and gives you what you want.

He doesn’t quit until your thighs are shaking with the effort. He taps your leg to get you to slide off and immediately flips your positions so you’re caged under his body.

You bring your hands up to his biceps, gliding them over his broad shoulders, and cup his face. He leans down, pressing his lips to your forehead as he slides into your warm, welcoming cunt. He pulls his head back a little to watch as he presses inside, drinking up the way your mouth falls open in a silent gasp, muscles tightening against the stretch.

“Shh, baby, just relax. You can take it,” he kisses down your neck as he whispers. “I know it’s been a while, but that pretty little pussy can fuckin’ take it.”

You’re trembling under him, twitching and writhing as he kisses and bites across your collarbone and down to your breasts. He works himself deeper, sucking on your nipples until you cum again, muscles loosening just enough until his cock is buried to the base.

“Fuck,” he bites out, gritting his teeth and grinding into you. “Fuckin’ hell, I missed you.”

He catches the look in your eye and cuts you off. “And not just your cunt, either, smartass.”

You grin, and he kisses you, licking inside like he can wipe away your smugness.

You break away and kiss his neck up to bite his earlobe. “You fuckin’ like it.”

The look he gives you is overwhelmingly fond. It feels like something cracks inside your sternum.

“Yeah, I do,” he says.

You bury your face in his neck, biting down on the tendon on a particularly rough thrust. “You can’t just say shit like that, Joel. You’re gonna make me think you like me.”

“I don’t know how else I gotta say it, baby. I like you.”

You whimper, and he doesn’t press you to respond. Doesn’t need to. Instead, he brings his hand down to worry at your sore clit, brushing gently as you arch up, squirming both toward and away from the overstimulation.

“One more, gimmie one more,” he demands, pace increasing. Your body, as always, listens, and as your cunt grips him, he pulls out to spill on your pussy, coating your coarse curls in his spend.

He doesn’t leave you time to wonder if he’ll go back to cleaning you up now that there’s running water. He slides down, crouching, and licks your combined mess before climbing back up to kiss you and share the salty tang of your pleasures.

He doesn’t leave you time to wonder if he’ll kick you out, either. “Stay,” he murmurs against your lips. “Please.”

You nod, letting him melt you into the mattress with his soft touches.

He gives you his shirt to sleep in, his possessive post-orgasm brain demanding to mark you further. Unfortunately, he didn’t think it through, because that’s when you see it.

“What the fuck is that?” you ask, pointing at the still-pinkish scarring.

“Oh, that’s nothin’,” he says, arms dropping to lay across it in maybe the least casual way you’ve ever seen.

But you’ve got something sharp behind your eyes, something calculating. “You said you were fine.”

“I am fine. Quit your worryin’.”

“Fine, don’t tell me. I’ll hear it from Ellie tomorrow. Unless you want a chance to give me your version of the story.”

He groans and covers his face with both hands. “Fine. I fell and had a run-in with a bit of rebar. But I’m fine now.”

“You keep sayin’ that, making it sound like you definitely were not fine at one point.”

He thinks you’re going to be mad all over again, that you’ll say there was something you could have done, had you been there.

“I was fine until I wasn’t. We got it out, Ellie stitched me up, and we rested until I was better.”

“And the part you don’t want to tell me?”

“It got infected. Sepsis or some kind of bacteria. It wasn’t… it didn’t look good. Honestly, I don’t remember much of it.” He chances a look at you, and the tight feeling in his chest starts to creep in.

“Joel,” you whisper. You purse your lips, eyes scrunching, and take a shaky breath through your nose.

“Darlin’, please. I don’t—I can’t do this right now. Ya can’t cry like this right now.”

You close your eyes and take a few breaths. “Okay. But promise you’ll tell me everything another day?”

“I promise. C’mon, lay down.” He tugs at your wrist, and you let your body follow, curling up to his bare chest.

“It doesn’t hurt?”

“Nah, I’m tellin’ you. It’s fine now.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head and then helps himself to another at your lips. “Stop that,” he says when your eyes well up again.

“M’sorry. It’s just been a helluva fuckin’ day.”

“I know, baby. But you can rest now, okay? I got you.”

You don’t have to look far to find Ellie in the morning. She’s sitting at the kitchen table when you come down in just Joel’s shirt and your panties. Luckily, it’s long enough to cover everything, but you both freeze for a moment, staring at the other’s wide eyes.

“Come on,” she groans. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me? One night. You couldn’t go one night?” She’s thrown a hand over her eyes.

“I’m not naked, you drama queen,” you say, setting the kettle on.

“It’s so gross; he’s so old,” she groans.

“I’m not that much younger,” you remind her.

“Yeah, but you’re like, cool and stuff.”

“Sorry, honey,” you say, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pressing a kiss to her hair. “I’m not that cool, either.”

She lets her head fall against the table. “Nope, can’t do it. I’m going to the mess for breakfast. Please, both of you be dressed, and like, six feet apart when I get back.”

You just laugh, digging through the cabinet for clean mugs as she grabs her bag and flees.

“What’s all the ruckus?” Joel asks, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist while you pour the tea.

“Oh, just traumatizing the teenager all over again.” You crane your neck to press a kiss to his cheek, but he catches you and steals it from your mouth instead.

“Be careful,” you murmur. “I could get used to this.”

“I fuckin’ hope so,” he says, “‘Cause I could get used to this. Pretty girl in my shirt makin’ me a drink.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, exactly like every day when I lived in your apartment.”

“Well,” he holds you a little tighter, kissing up your neck before resting his chin on your shoulder. “Maybe not exactly like that.”

epilogue

This is the end, y'all. I love you, and thank you so so much.

*title from "As It Was" by Harry Styles

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #you know you never stood a chance series #the last of us fic #the last of us smut

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