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didhewinkback · 2 months

Text

ii most wanted

a post engagement road trip for the something old kids aka i cannot stop listening to this song and ended up writing 2k words of smut about it

word count: see above, warnings: see above

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The wind was whipping through your hair, the sun streaming in through the windshield, old 70s rock on the radio. The leather of the car seat felt like it was sticking to every inch of your skin but you didn’t mind. The weed you smoked made everything move in slow motion, all your senses heightened. Everything feeling loose, easy, free. Your hand making waves out the window through the wind, up and down in an addictive pattern.

A warm palm slides on your thigh, his thumb moving up and down before squeezing and you all but melt into the seat, turning to look at him. He smiles over at you before looking back at the wide, empty road.

“Y’ good?” he asks, lips twitching up into a smile.

“So good,” you say back, laughter bubbling over your words, heart skipping when he laughs with you. You can’t pinpoint what’s funny and maybe nothing is. It’s just… everything feels so warm and right and real. You turn back to look out the window, marveling at the open roads, the way it's just you and him for miles.

“Look good like this.” he mumbles, voice barely audible over the wind.

“What, stoned?”

“Nooo,” he laughs, shaking his head, wide grin on his face as he looks you over once more. “Meant y’ look happy. Relaxed. Look nice with that ring on your finger.”

You hum, holding up your hand with said ring on it, thumb twisting over the band, back and forth, taking a moment to admire it in the light.

“It’s a good one, innit?” you say and you can see the way his eyes roll even behind his sunglasses but he still grabs your hand and pulls it towards his mouth, thumb brushing over the ring once before pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“Your man did good, huh?” he says, releasing your hand to slide his back on your thigh. You slide your hand into his hair and he preens, leaning into the touch.

“Yeah, my man did.” you say and he squeezes your thigh, a soft smile on his lips as you rake your hand through his curls, taking your time to study his profile. The cut of his jaw, the line of the beard he’s been growing out. God, he’s nice to look at. He looks good behind the wheel, too, the flex of his arm as he casually holds the steering wheel, legs splayed wide, his lips moving as he softly sings along to the radio.

You’re struck for a moment at the view, at this man you’ve loved for most of your life, at the ring he proposed to you with gleaming against his hair and you think you want to have this view for the rest of your life. To get to be by his side till the day you die. You can feel it wash over you, almost bowling you over. Knowing he wants the same.

Your hand slides down his hair, playing with the curls at the nape before resting on the back of his neck, his muscles jumping at the touch before you squeeze once and he hums in appreciation. A deep sound from the back of his throat and - oh.

It’s been warm all day but you suddenly feel a rush of heat from the inside out. Your eye catches on a bead of sweat falling down the side of his neck, tracing along the tendons until it pools into the collar of his t-shirt and you’re suddenly parched, desperation flooding your veins, overwhelmed by the need to taste, to touch and be touched. You could blame the high but you know it’s him, it’s always him.

You dig your thumb into the muscle where his shoulder meets his neck, the spot that’s always bothering him. His hand tightens on your thigh for a second before he groans when the muscle starts to give way under your touch.

“Harry,” you choke out, your voice reedy and he hums in response. “Pull over.”

He snaps his head to look at you, confused, before he does a double take, brows shooting up behind his sunnies as he reads what must be obvious need all over your face.

“Y’ serious?” he asks incredulously and you nod fervently, shifting in the seat. “Baby, we’re in –”

“The middle of nowhere, we haven’t seen anyone for miles.” you cut him off, quickly undoing your seatbelt and sliding over on the bench seat, ignoring his muttered “jesus” as you press so against his side, his arm going across your lap as a makeshift belt, hand gripping your outer thigh. His eyes flicking between the road and you and you can see the swallow he takes before you’re leaning in to press your lips against his neck, taking your time to kiss along the skin.

You keep one hand on the back of his neck, the other sliding down the front of his shirt, twisting in the hem before teasing at the waistband of his jeans, sliding down to palm him, biting down on his neck when he inhales sharply.

“Please,” you mumble against his neck, squeezing him once more, his hips twitching up to chase the touch. “Unless you want to keep driving and I can just -”

You go to duck your head down but he stops you, hand tight on your thigh as he sputters out a “crash the bloody car if you do that” that has you laughing into his neck.

“Jus’ hang on a mo’ - let me -” he can barely string a sentence together as he drives for a bit longer before pulling off the road onto where there’s a dip in the tall grass, in between two cypress trees. You watch as his shaky hands throw the car into park, waiting until he pulls the keys out of the ignition before you’re turning his head towards yours to capture his lips in a kiss that has him moaning into your mouth.

You kiss him once, twice, three times before he’s pulling back, mumbling a “let me get these -” and pulling his sunglasses off and throwing them on the dash before his hand wraps around your neck to pull you back in. Your tongue darts out to lick at the seam of his lips before he’s opening up, the first touch of his tongue against yours wrenches a moan from the back of your throat. His hands move up and down your sides, squeezing occasionally before they slide to your hips, shifting you both until he’s in the middle of the seat as he pulls you into his lap.

You slide your hand up into his hair, getting a steady grip as you kiss him with everything you have. His hands feel like they’re everywhere, all at once, sliding up and down your sides before they slide around your back and down, grabbing a handful of your bum as his tongue glides over yours. Everything is warm, perfect heat as arousal pools in your stomach, slowly losing your mind with every drag of his lips.

He wrenches away from your mouth, panting as he catches his breath, his blown out eyes darting all over your face.

“Want me so bad y’ made me stop the car, hm?” he teases and you’re not even thinking of a comeback before you’re nodding and leaning back in.

You kiss him slowly, taking your time to lick into his mouth, goosebumps erupting at his soft moan, the way his hands grip you tighter, the high making you feel everything ten times deeper. He knows just where to touch you to make you sigh into his mouth, his hands sliding up and down your thighs before resting back on your arse, the other sliding up your shirt to cup your breast. He’s gentle until he’s not, squeezing hard and laughing against your lips when you bite down on his in retaliation.

You lose yourselves in each other, each taking turns to take over, mouths and hands exploring as you please. It’s when he’s got his hand on the back of your neck, controlling the kiss with an expert flick of his tongue that you can’t help yourself and grind down against him.

“That’s it,” he says when he pulls away, one hand falling to your hips to encourage their roll as he kisses along your jaw. “Go after it, baby.”

“Need you naked,” you whisper, pulling his head back up towards you to kiss him again. “Need you - backseat.”

He nods, pressing a searing kiss to your lips before pulling away. You climb off him and gracelessly climb over the backseat, breathless with laughter when you watch him do the same. He cups your jaw, kissing you deeply before pulling away.

“Get naked,” he murmurs and you both pull your clothes off as quickly as possible, hands banging against the roof and sides of the car, grunts from when you accidentally kick each other as you’re pulling your jeans off. He makes to hover over you before you shake your head, pushing him back against the seat so he’s sitting up as you straddle him, feeling his hard length right against your core, his eyes wide as he looks up at you, his hand coming up you cup your cheek.

“Baby - someone could see you.” he mumbles and you simply respond with a roll of your hips, making him bite down on his swollen lips, his hands sliding up your thighs and resting on your hips.

“Want them to,” you say, reaching down to curl your hand around him, pumping a few times to watch his neck go taut as you line him up with your center. “Want them to know I’m yours.”

“Jesus- fuck ,” he grunts out, his eyes rolling up into the back of his head, his head tipping back to rest on the top of the seat as you sink down on him in one fell swoop, his grip like a vice on your hips.

You’re not so sex stupid to actually risk getting caught - you’re on an abandoned road in the middle of Tuscany - but there’s something about the idea of someone seeing you that’s clearly working for the both of you. You move your hips forward and back, getting used to the stretch as he leans forward to press a line of kisses down your sternum towards your chest, hands sliding up your back as he sucks a nipple into his mouth and gropes the other, soft hands and tongue making you melt.

“How’s it feel?” he mumbles against your chest, switching sides to your other breast as you roll your hips, both of you moaning at the sensation.

“Good. Full.” you mumble, almost delirious in your pleasure, sparks shooting up your spine each time you roll your hips just right. “So full.”

You pull his head off your chest and back up to your mouth to capture his lips in a kiss as you start to find your rhythm, what was once rolls of the hips become full bounces up and down, making him groan against your tongue. He pulls back, one hand falling to grip at your ass as he rests his head against the seat, brow furrowed as he watches you fuck him.

“Y’ so beautiful,” he says, eyes dropping down to where you’re connected. “Fucking - drenching me. In the backseat - shit.”

Your head grazes the roof with every bounce but you can’t be arsed to care, not when he’s looking at you like that, pure want and desire in his eyes, beads of sweat dripping down his chest, his butterfly glistening in the sun. He’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen and he’s looking at you like you’re everything and nothing, nothing has ever felt better than this.

“Y’ so good to me,” he grunts out, eyes following your every move. “Love you like this. So fucking hot.”

Fire licks up your spine, your rhythm getting sloppier as his words hurtle you towards your finish. You can barely catch your breath as you dig your nails into his shoulders, grabbing his wrist and pulling it up to your face, sucking two of his fingers into your mouth.

“Fuck. Y’ close, huh?” he asks and you nod around his fingers. “Let’s get you there, baby. Want you to come first, want y’ to come around me.”

He pulls his hand from your mouth, leaning up to kiss you deep, his hand dropping to your clit, drawing mind-numbing circles that have you crying out against his mouth, your hips driving against his more aggressive than ever.

“That’s it. Go after it for me. Want y’ to come, my gorgeous girl.” he mumbles against your lips, pulling back to watch your face with brows furrowed in concentration as he flicks your clit just so and you explode around him, feeling like you’re burning from the inside out as you come, moaning out his name as he doesn’t let up until you stop fluttering around him.

You don’t stop your hips, continuing to grind against him despite the overstimulation, your hand latching on to the back of his hair to kiss along his jaw.

“Need you to come,” you gasp out against his jaw, moaning when he groans and grips you tighter. “Want you to fill me up. Want to feel it.”

“Shit - baby. Fuck. I’m -” He bites down on your shoulder, hands falling to your hips as he rocks his hips up to meet yours, thrusting once, twice, and coming, moaning against your skin as you feel his release coat your walls, fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you against his chest.

The two of you breathing deep, panting as you try to catch your breath. He kisses against your collarbone, his hand coming up to brush your hair back behind your shoulder as he leans in to kiss along your neck before leaning back against the seat, looking well-fucked with rosy cheeks, a soft smile on his face as his chest heaves.

“Got my balls all over the upholstery,” he says and you bark out a laugh as he laughs with you, both of you shaking with it. You lean back to ease him out of you, his hands helping guide you as you slide off his lap and sit next to him, your hands immediately reaching for each other, fingers interlocking as you roll your head along the top of the seat to look over at him.

“Just fucked you within an inch of your life and that’s the first thing you say?” you ask and he huffs out a laugh.

“Y’ did, didn’t you?” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Can’t believe you just fucked me in the backseat. That was the hottest thing to ever happen to me.”

“Shut up,” you laugh.

“‘M serious. You’ve got no idea what you look like when you’re looking at me like that. Like ‘m the only thing that matters.” he shakes his head, taking a deep inhale before rolling his head to look over at you, deadly serious, his voice rumbling out like gravel. “Makes me feel like I’m on fire.”

He leans over to capture your lips with his, kissing you so slowly, so carefully, you can feel the fire burning in you once more, the fire that never quite goes away with him.

“I love you so much,” you murmur against his lips and he inhales sharply before kissing you harder, letting go of your hand to bring both hands up to cup your face, holding you in place while he drags his lips against yours.

“Love you too, baby.” he mumbles, kissing you once before pulling back. “Lay back for me. Gonna make you feel how you make me feel.”

“H, you already - oh” you cut yourself off with moan as he sucks a kiss behind your ear, at the spot on your neck that always drives you crazy as he gently pushes you back against the seat.

“Then we can smoke some more, make some sandwiches and take a nap.” he says, lips dragging against your skin. “No rush, yeah? We’ve got time.”

“Yeah,” you say, melting against the seat as his lips find yours once more, his hand sliding down your body until it falls between your thighs, making you gasp against his mouth. “We’ve got - we’ve got time.”

You lay back, eyes drawn to the way the sun reflects off his naked back, the pattern his lips draw against your skin making your eyes flutter shut as he presses his fingers into you. Your mind is still hazy but nothing has been more clear. This is all you want. It’s him, it’s him, it’s him. Till the day you die.

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a/n: no ones dying btw its the song lyrics just wanted to make that clear. havent been able to finish writing someting in literal months, have requests in my inbox for not this, but here we are. my blog, my rules. not sure anyones still interested in reading this but i wrote it so im posting !

taglist:@tobesolovelysstuff, @louyoursins, @daydreamingofmatilda, @jojo-blog53, @marzhshaim, @devilsqueen722, @just-happiness-only,@lomlhstyles, @feestyles, @spock4presidnet, @sunshinemoonsposts, @indierockgirrl, @jerseygirlinca, @kissitnhekitchen, @goldnrry,

#something old #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #how am i typing these words out again #this story grew in my brain and i simply could not resist it #didnt really edit this #omg ryan just post it

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zedif-y · 2 months

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omg!!!! joel + "afraid" maybe???

Joel isn't afraid of water.

He grits his teeth, forces a smile when Grian looks over at him, head tilted in question. He shakes his head.

" 'm good," is what comes out of his mouth, casual as anything. "Don't wanna get wet."

Which is true, you know. He's not lying. He's just... Kinda not feeling the whole swimming thing right now. Even though he said he would. Multiple times.

...Nothin' wrong with that. A guy can change his mind, can't he?

Grian looks unimpressed, "You went to a beach party to people watch?"

Ugh.

"You went over here to judge?" Joel fires back. An itching something creeps under his skin. "I'll put sand in your wings, Grian, don't think I won't." Grian huffs.

"Someone's tetchy today," He mumbles. He stretches his wings, large swaths of red feathers that catch the sun, "Whatever. Call me if you need me, I'll be over by- Mumbo, are you sunburnt already?!"

Joel watches him go, amusement on his lips as Grian runs off. He lets out a breath.

Why'd he agree to this, again?

("Hey," Impulse says. "So, the other hermits and I were planning something, and we were wondering if you'd wanna-")

("Yes," Joel blurts out, then— "I mean no- I mean! What're- what's the plan?")

(Joel fights a wince.)

(Nice save, idiot.)

(But Impulse just smiles—thank the gods—and goes, "Well, it's nothing fancy or anything. Just a hangout at the beach. Grian found this awesome spot-")

And Joel promises he was listening. He was. It's just, you know. Exciting? 'Cuz he's one of the new guys and it's a whole new server to get used to and they actually want him to hang out, and that's great and he's got plans for builds, farms, and, and.

Maybe, just- maybe. He wants this to work out. Really wants this to work out. Wants to be here to stay.

Because like— Joel's a Hermit now. A real, bonafide Hermit, even though it doesn't feel real. Even if it hasn't quite sunk in yet.

So. You know. What's the harm, right?

("I'll be there," Joel says at last, grinning in a way that he hopes is casual and not painfully eager. "When's it happening?")

Joel can't help but wonder if this is turning out the way he wanted it to, though.

The heat prickles at his skin, leaves him sweating and uncomfortable in his rolled up shirt and pants. He fans himself with the front of his shirt, just watching the others pass the time.

Hermitcraft's got a variety of members— Jevin laughs as xB drenches Keralis in a spray of water, halting when sand is thrown his way in return. ("You know that sticks to me!") Xisuma's in swim trunks and his usual helmet, fanning himself with his hands like it'll stave off the heat. Tango doesn't even break a sweat.

Something worms into his chest, an ugly, twisting feeling that curls around his lungs.

Joel grimaces. Oh, what the heck.

Biting his lip, Joel looks down at his chest, under his shirt. He doesn't exactly grimace, but there's nothing happy about his face, either.

Again, ugh.

Joel sighs, shaking his head. He goes back to people watching, ignoring the prickling discomfort under his skin. This is fine. This is fine.

At the corner of his eye— Pearl stands by the side, cracking jokes with Etho. They're both still wearing jackets. It makes something in Joel unfurl, just a little bit.

He tears his eyes away before they spot him.

The thing is— Joel doesn't, like, hate himself or anything. Not anymore, or at least not right now. And he's not afraid of water, despite how intensely he stared at the sea. It's just, it's...

Joel chews on his lip, picking off dried skin. The small tears bleed, droplets of blood on his tongue as he licks them away. He barely realizes he's doing it— and by the end, his lip twinges a little, reddened and sore.

Sweat makes his clothes cling to his skin. Joel wishes he hadn't agreed to any of this at all.

"You got room for one more?" A voice asks, jolting him out of his thoughts.

Joel turns to look— "Zedaph," He says, surprised. He scoots over his (frankly, way too large) beach blanket, "Yeah, I've got- yeah. You can sit."

Zedaph grins, "Just Zed is fine," He tells him, sitting next to Joel.

He's not in his usual getup right now, Joel notes. Not that he'd know. He's only talked to the guy twice, seen him in meetings. But something about the lack of a cardigan, although understandable, strikes Joel as a bit off— it's like seeing your teacher in casual wear outside of school. Makes sense, but it's kinda weird.

"You gonna swim?" Joel asks, just for something to fill the air. By the water, Scar gets pinched by a crab. Joel snickers.

Zedaph watches on, amused. "With how hot it is, I feel like I already am," He huffs. He rifles through his inventory, a pink fan appearing in his hand, "But no, I don't think I will. It's a nightmare on the wool."

Joel hums, makes sense.

"How about you?"

Joel frowns— he doesn't mean to, it just kinda happens— and says, "Uh, dunno. Maybe? I don't-" He makes a face. "I said I would, but now 'm not sure."

After a beat, Zedaph shrugs. "Well, you've got time," He says at last, and that's that.

They settle into people-watching, for the most part. Just watching the other Hermits bask in the sun, laughing and splashing around as the day goes on.

It looks— it looks fun. It looks so fucking fun.

Joel grits his teeth, the hand gripping the front of his shirt tightening without his notice. What the heck. What the heck.

Frustration gnaws at him, eyes caught on the way they all carry themselves, loose and carefree. Not at them, obviously, it's at his stupid, like, brain—

Joel lets out a breath, deep and measured.

He wanted to come. He said he'd come, join in and swim and whatever else. But now he's here and he's sitting in the shade and not even talking to Zedaph because he can't get a hold of himself, too worked up over nothing as he agonizes over the fact that his shirt is clinging to his skin and it's wrong and it's weird and it feels like, like.

Joel lets his gaze drop to the sand at his feet.

It feels like if they knew, if they saw him the way he saw himself, then they'd, like, regret inviting him here. Or something. Here being the server and the world and not just beach party.

Which, which is stupid and he knows this, but it's so hard to shake— like, how did he even get here, again?

Joel bites back a groan. Today is an awful day to have blummin' imposter syndrome.

For goodness' sake, now he's sulking.

After a while, Zedaph speaks up.

"Are you alright?" He asks, eyebrows drawn together. Joel wants to evaporate on the spot.

He shakes his head, then grimaces. Now he's acting like a toddler.

"Oh," Zedaph says, looking a bit lost. Joel can relate. "...Thirsty?"

Joel blinks. "Huh?"

"Sorry," Zedaph's cheeks flush pink, shaking his head, "I'm not very good at this. D'you want to talk? I can listen if you want."

Joel thins his lips, weighing his options.

He thinks that in another world, another time he probably would've just kept this to himself. 'Cuz he can handle this, he's not a kid. But somewhere along the line— the line of repeatedly bottling shit up, having it rattle and shake and eventually explode— he sort of. Well.

Maybe he realized that that doesn't work. Anymore.

So, "It's stupid."

Joel winces. Great start.

"I mean, it's not. I guess. It's just, new guy jitters, you know?" He tries to explain, watching as understanding dawns on Zedaph's face, a knowing smile that puts a balm on the static-y feeling in Joel's veins. "I'm sorta freaking out about, everything? Even the ones that don't make sense."

His cheeks burn red, "Like the way I'm all sweaty and gross and— I kinda don't want people to see, my body—?" He cuts himself off, his face pinched like he swallowed a lemon. "It's, you know. Not just because of gender things, but it is kind of that, but it's... Gods, Zed, just tell me they aren't gonna kick me out."

The last words come out in a rush, high-pitched and not squeaky as they tumble past Joel's lips. Zedaph blinks.

"Before I joined Hermitcraft, I was falling through the sky with my own sick on my head," Zedaph starts. Which. "Before that, the first ever thing I did was dig a hole in the ground and call that my home. And make an egg farm. But mostly the digging."

Joel tries very, very hard to find where this is going. (A fool's errand, from what he's heard about Zed, but still.)

"When I was asked to join Hermitcraft, my first thought was— really? Me?" Then, he laughs. "But they were serious! And I even asked Tango, then, if it was some elaborate prank. But it wasn't! They really wanted me on here!"

Zedaph gestures around them, "It's easy to get caught in your head, I get that. But we know what we're doing—" He pauses. "When it comes to this, at least. When the Hermits invited me, they knew what they were signing up for— vomit and worms and holes in the ground. And possibly a hint of death and malpractice. Of all sorts."

The knot, slowly unraveling in Joel's chest, starts to loosen up.

Somehow. What was that about death?

Zedaph nudges him, "So lighten up, yeah? Nobody's getting kicked out." Joel manages a smile.

"Thanks, Zed-"

"I mean, if people got kicked out for being sweaty and gross, there'd be no one left!" Zedaph leans in to stage-whisper, "What, you think Impulse didn't sweat in season 9? With all that lava?"

Joel snorts, "Point taken."

Zedaph grins. He leans back, resting on the base of the palm tree they've settled under.

"Take your time to figure out if you're swimming or not," Zedaph tells him, purple eyes glinting under flecks of sunlight. "But nobody will mind if you just stay here. Promise."

Joel nods. This time, smiling comes easier.

"Okay," He replies. He lets out a breath, watches as the sun shines down on the beach, "Thanks, Zed."

"Not a problem."

---

(Joel doesn't, in fact, end up swimming.)

(He watches the sun set on the horizon, eats barbecue at the makeshift grill Skizz brought. It's only the best thing he's eaten all day.)

(Joel laughs at something Gem said, so hard that his lungs kind of hurt.)

(Sitting around a bonfire, shirt smelling like smoke, his anxieties lay forgotten, for now.)

(Joel doesn't swim. Maybe he won't for a while.)

(But there will be more opportunities to try.)

#THEY ARE NOT ALL GOING TO BE THIS LONG. PART OF THIS IS OLD WRITING AND I JUST ENDED UP FINISHING IT SKLDJHGSDG #joel smallishbeans #zedaphplays #zedaph plays #hermitcraft #hermitfic #hermitblr #mcyt #mcytblr #ryan's writing #ask games #anon #hermitcraft season 10 #hc s10

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